After a month in Bolivia's constitutional capital, the time had come to move on. Sucre was an incredible temporary home, but Bolivia is huge and diverse, and we didn't want to miss out on the treasures of its other regions. So, after a detour through the Salar de Uyuni and Bolivia's barren southwest, we relocated to La Paz for a few weeks.
The best bird's-eye view of Bolivia's capital can be found at the top of the Recoleta hill. The climb is arduous, but worth the effort. At sunset, the "White City" is even more beautiful from above than from street-level. Just head due south from the city center. As long as you're going uphill, you're on the right path.
Most people don't realize that Sucre is technically the capital of Bolivia. La Paz has become the country's largest and most important city, but according to the Bolivian constitution, Sucre is still the official capital. And the Casa de la Libertad is the country's most historically significant building.
Don Francisco Argandoña and his wife Clotilde Urioste Velasco were among the most important members of late 19th Century Bolivian society. He had made a fortune in the mining industry, and owned a private bank. She was the daughter of a wealthy Spanish family, and dedicated her life to helping orphans. On a diplomatic tour Europe in 1898, they called upon Pope Leon XIII, who pronounced them the "Princes of the Glorieta". They accepted the honor graciously; it hardly mattered that Bolivia didn't have a monarchy.
We were introduced to Sucre's general cemetery by Roger, a kid who works there as an informal guide, during a half-day tour of the city we wrote about earlier. The beauty of the cemetery surprised us, and we soon went back for more pictures and to explore at our own pace.
We've lived in quite a few countries, but I don't think we've ever encountered such compelling faces as in Bolivia. The people here, while often shy about getting their picture taken, are almost always courteous and happy to talk. Here's another random batch of images we've taken in Sucre during last few weeks.
It's no secret that Bolivians love their hats. Especially among campesinos, a smart hat is an essential part of the wardrobe, and every region in the country has a particular style. Decorated, thin black caps covering the ears for the Tarabuqueños, round bowler hats for the people in Sucre, shallow pale-colored hats for those from Tarjia.
We expected to have an incredible time in Potosí, and the highest city in the world didn't disappoint. Potosí has a rich history, still evident in its plentiful churches, but today is awash in poverty. The massive Cerro Rico casts a shadow both literally and figuratively over the city; the deaths of millions of indigenous workers has left a wound in Potosí's psyche which will never scab over. Here are our final visual impressions of this amazing city.
Henry, the guide for our 3-day hike around Sucre, was originally from Potosí. We told him that we had plans to visit his hometown, and he enthusiastically rattled off a number of recommendations. Churches, neighborhoods, shops... "But no matter what", he said, suddenly turning serious, "make sure to get a bowl of k'alaphurka". We were speaking Spanish, and I'd had a few beers. I could have sworn he said Cara Puta. "Really, Henry? You want me to go into a restaurant and order a steaming hot bowl of "Whore's Face"?!"
Disillusioned by the horrors of Cerro Rico's mines and the callous greed of their families, a number of Potosí's young women renounced the world by entering into the Convent of Santa Teresa. They would never again step outside its walls. We were pressed for time, and told our guide that we wanted just a quick tour. But the convent's history was simply too fascinating, and we ended up spending about two hours inside. Santa Teresa was established in 1685, providing a home to a sisterhood of Carmelite nuns. It's still active today, but its numbers have dwindled significantly, and most of the immense complex is now a museum.
