Sky Holds the Sun

Today marks the Aymara New Year, so Sarah and I took advantage of the long weekend, and headed to Bolivia’s largest city, Santa Cruz de la Sierra. An influential autonomy movement that has typified the region in recent decades coupled with its distinct tropical, almost Caribbean feel (in spite of being landlocked of course) made Santa Cruz an intriguing place that I had yet to visit.

Dreary-eyed and cranky from the 10-hour bus ride from Cochabamba, I was somewhat dumbfounded at how depressed and gloomy the country’s so-called “economic capital” was. Sure enough, by 10:00 AM, the sun came out in full force and I opened up to my new surroundings. With the increase in humidity also came my curly hair – something of a distant memory in the dry Cochabamba climate. I was uncomfortable but ready to explore downtown Santa Cruz.

The following afternoon, we decided to check out the elusive sand dunes or lomas de arena located about 30 minutes outside of town. What’s interesting about these dunes is that they are entirely out of place, situated in the middle of sweeping tropical wetlands. Something of a geological enigma, no one really knows how they came to be.

We hailed a cab, agreed on a price and were off. I won’t be able to recount what happened next nor aptly describe the character that was our taxi driver Alfredo.

The next thing we knew, Alfredo was pointing every which way and magically transformed from a regular taxi driver to an erudite impersonator of a tour guide with vast knowledge of the history, politics, economics, and culture of Santa Cruz. The man loved to talk and he also mysteriously looked like an indigenous version of my grandfather Zaida!

On the way to the sand dunes, he drove us directly by the regional prison (!) that looked like an antiquated 1940s jailhouse out of The Shawshank Redeption. I was giddy as we drove by (Sarah shaking with nerves) thinking, “There’s no way this would be in a guide book.”

As we entered the state park, the road and landscape quickly turned wild. I chuckled to myself at the fortuitous situation.

Alfedo, a man we met through pure chance, would not stop chatting. Jovial yet wise, Alfedo trudged his 1997 Toyota Carolla through the increasingly sandy road, nearing the still distant dunes. All of a sudden, we came to a halt and were stuck. A shovel was miraculously in his trunk and we began digging our way out (Don’t worry, I got in there and helped out). Again, as I watched the 60 something year-old man burrow, I couldn't stop puzzling over who the hell this guy was!

Once the car was dug out, we plowed forward. When we couldn’t go any further because we'd surely get stuck again, this time for good, we were still some 3 kilometers from the dunes. Having come all this way, Alfedo insisted, like a fearless boy leading the neighborhood crew on an escapade, that the three of us bushwhack through the thick brush until we arrived at our destination. Conversation topics along the way included the history of German Mennonites, beginner English lessons, international economics, and his long-lost British lover. Indeed, the beauty of the dunes was well worth the trek.

While downtown Santa Cruz was great fun to explore, it seems that often times, the potentially dicey experiences that one does on whim end up being the best of memories.