Giant Pantanal cranes,
(White with black heads and a narrow red featherless neck ring)
Pose, as cranes do,
And seem to announce,
`Welcome to the Pantanal`.
The jungle is alive with sounds;
Screetches, trills, hissing and chortles.
It is every shade of brilliant green.
The ivy covered foliage along the river
Is dotted with flowers;
Hybiscus, morning glories, bird of paradize.
Enormous jungle trees tower behind.
The sliver of moon and a zillion stars
Give way to the morning light.
High wisps of cloud float in the clear light blue.
Throughout the day, the sky darkens.
The clouds build and in the late afternoon
A burst of thunder and rain
Disappates the intense heat.
Just for a moment
The mosquitoes rest.
For three days,
We walk in the jungle.
We ride horses.
We go in boats.
We travel in the back of trucks,
In the day time and at night.
We watch.
We listen.
We breath.
Occationally, we retreat to our dark cold room,
That is deliciously free of the heat and the bugs.
The sounds of howler monkeys
(Much like a super highway)
Start and end each day.
We watch them swinging through the canopy.
A young one rides on its´ mother`s yellow back.
Large black ones dangle from
Hands, feet or tails.
Despite our searches,
We don`t see any jaguars, ant eaters or iguana.
We do see many camen.
From tiny to two meters.
They lounge along the river`s edge
And then slither into the water.
Only their rounded dark eye arches
showing above the surface.
Herd of carabaris,
(Large brown river pigs)
And groupings of black South American river rats
(Also the same size as large pigs)
Parade along the rivers edge
Or munch on the hyacynths in the water.
Two giant South American river otters make an appearance.
As does a deer
And an armadillo.
Overhead,
In the trees,
And in the water
Are birds.
Some like the Pantanal Crane are unfamiliar.
But many look like kingfishers, hawks, hummingbirds
Woodpeckers, herons or egrets.
I am enthralled with all the jungle birds.
The toucans;
With their fuzzy black heads
And colourful eyes
And enormours colourful bills.
The Parrots in all sizes and colours.
The brilliant green ones disappear completely in the green foliage.
The parakeets that swoop
Across the river in pairs;
Flashes of blue or red.
The large white osprey like bird with its´
Slicked back black toupay.
He has adopted us or
Us him.
The tiny inch long ground feeders
In yellow, green and red.
And an unexpected jungle highlight
Turns out to be the cameraderie
amongst our fellow travellers.
They`re from all over the world
And mostly half our age.
We talk religion, ethics,
Books, nonsense,
Mosquitoe bites and politics.
Cold beer and good conversation
Has never tasted so good.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Train of Death
Our Lonely Planet Guide and rumours
Told us of giant mosquitoes filling the train cars,
Layers of dust coating all the sleeping passengers,
Crowds of people and contraband packing the aisles,
Derailments, break-downs in steamy jungles,
Even the name:The Train of Death.
In reality the train ride was okay.
It was long, (more than 14 hours)
And it was very rough.
Occationally the train stopped
And peddlers and begging children would fill the aisles.
Occationally the police would check passports, tickets and luggage.
But mostly we slept in air conditioned comfort
Through the jungle on the way to Brazil.
Told us of giant mosquitoes filling the train cars,
Layers of dust coating all the sleeping passengers,
Crowds of people and contraband packing the aisles,
Derailments, break-downs in steamy jungles,
Even the name:The Train of Death.
In reality the train ride was okay.
It was long, (more than 14 hours)
And it was very rough.
Occationally the train stopped
And peddlers and begging children would fill the aisles.
Occationally the police would check passports, tickets and luggage.
But mostly we slept in air conditioned comfort
Through the jungle on the way to Brazil.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday
Yesterday, we caught a seven person van back from Samaipata to Santa Cruz. It was cozy- there were ten adults crowded in! Luckily we did have a good driver though and so we avoided the terror that we had on the way to Samaipata. Part way back, in a mountain valley, near a stream and steep rock cliffs, all the traffic had to stop for 45 minutes for road work. Immediately the vendors appeared-- People carrying bowls and baskets and coolers. After a vendor had walked further along, the ground would be littered with all the wrappers of whatever people had bought. Is this just my ethrocentricity showing??
I did do four quartersheet paintings in Samaipata. Painting on location in an unfamiliar country is fraught with nervous worry. People tend not to want their image painted and the buildings tend to be flat and brown on the outsides with anything interesting- flowers, washing, pigs etc., all tucked inside inner courtyarts. And in a high valley, with altidude the lighting is often flat. Anyways, once I have a subject and a spot and I am plunked on my little stool (compliments of Shelley Austin of Sea Shell Design) then I´m usually just fine and I enjoy myself. In a few minutes, I´m usually surrounded by admirers watching my entertainment. The other day, when I painted in the main square, one of the post carnival cleaner-uppers became my front man. He gathered folks around me and then proceeded to point at everything in my painting by touching it with his nail on a stick. All the while, I continued to paint!
The day before, I had about a dozen kids for the afternoon. Most stared with big dark eyes but one little girl was a lively chatterbox with an enormous smile. She rushed home and came back with her ¨Learn to speak English book¨ She annouced Ït is five oclock!" " No" I laughed, "it is three oclock" and we proceeded to chat for the afternoon. By the time she introduced me to her mother and father :¨"Joy, Mother Father" she knew my brother and sister´s names and ages and lots of other random details.
In Santa Cruz, the city is trying to clean up after canival. Most of the buildings need repainting because of all the paint guns. A huge workforce is rewhitewashing the buildings and cleaning the streets. We are also back to the constant horn honking. One chap was crossing himself as he drove by the cathedral, at the same time he was laying on his horn to help more the traffic along! The sidewalks are crowded. Among the brown skinned dark haired Bolivians, there are some skinny, fair skinned, blue eyed menonites with dark severe clothing and sour expressions. Also there are a few nuns wandering around in their habits (and using the internet cafes). So often I´ve seen a short Bolivian girl from the back, with long black braids, wearing a straw hat, and a knee length gathered skirt with an apron tied over and I´ve thought of Anne Shirley. Then they turn around and I see their old wrinkled faces and hands and I realize that these are not young girls! Jim and I always smile and coo at Bolivian babies and kids. It usually backfires. When the babies are old enough to really look at us, they usually recoil in horror and they cry and scream. They find our ¨"üniform" of battered hats, tee shirts, shorts and our old white faces just so different.
Later today we are catching the Train of Death towards Brazil and by tomorrow we will be leaving Bolivia for another year! I have some buns to eat, some bottled water, our bug suits, insect repellent and a cheery disposition ready for the trip!
I did do four quartersheet paintings in Samaipata. Painting on location in an unfamiliar country is fraught with nervous worry. People tend not to want their image painted and the buildings tend to be flat and brown on the outsides with anything interesting- flowers, washing, pigs etc., all tucked inside inner courtyarts. And in a high valley, with altidude the lighting is often flat. Anyways, once I have a subject and a spot and I am plunked on my little stool (compliments of Shelley Austin of Sea Shell Design) then I´m usually just fine and I enjoy myself. In a few minutes, I´m usually surrounded by admirers watching my entertainment. The other day, when I painted in the main square, one of the post carnival cleaner-uppers became my front man. He gathered folks around me and then proceeded to point at everything in my painting by touching it with his nail on a stick. All the while, I continued to paint!
The day before, I had about a dozen kids for the afternoon. Most stared with big dark eyes but one little girl was a lively chatterbox with an enormous smile. She rushed home and came back with her ¨Learn to speak English book¨ She annouced Ït is five oclock!" " No" I laughed, "it is three oclock" and we proceeded to chat for the afternoon. By the time she introduced me to her mother and father :¨"Joy, Mother Father" she knew my brother and sister´s names and ages and lots of other random details.
In Santa Cruz, the city is trying to clean up after canival. Most of the buildings need repainting because of all the paint guns. A huge workforce is rewhitewashing the buildings and cleaning the streets. We are also back to the constant horn honking. One chap was crossing himself as he drove by the cathedral, at the same time he was laying on his horn to help more the traffic along! The sidewalks are crowded. Among the brown skinned dark haired Bolivians, there are some skinny, fair skinned, blue eyed menonites with dark severe clothing and sour expressions. Also there are a few nuns wandering around in their habits (and using the internet cafes). So often I´ve seen a short Bolivian girl from the back, with long black braids, wearing a straw hat, and a knee length gathered skirt with an apron tied over and I´ve thought of Anne Shirley. Then they turn around and I see their old wrinkled faces and hands and I realize that these are not young girls! Jim and I always smile and coo at Bolivian babies and kids. It usually backfires. When the babies are old enough to really look at us, they usually recoil in horror and they cry and scream. They find our ¨"üniform" of battered hats, tee shirts, shorts and our old white faces just so different.
Later today we are catching the Train of Death towards Brazil and by tomorrow we will be leaving Bolivia for another year! I have some buns to eat, some bottled water, our bug suits, insect repellent and a cheery disposition ready for the trip!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Tuesday 24, 2009
Hello All
Om Sunday, we got a taxt to Samaipata, a small village 100 km from Santa Cruz. The ride was one of the scariest of my life. Our driver attacked the winding mountain road at top speed, passing all vehicles whether he could see around the curves or not. He wore a seat belt. We had none available. Miracle or miracles we arrived safely.
We booked into a terrific hostel (one of our nicest rooms because it has no television, no air conditioning and it has three windows and a balcony!) We have to pay a 25% surcharge because of Carnival. I told the owner I thought we should get a discount for having to put up with the non stop shinanigans! Anyways we´ve had three days of drunken partying, loud loud music from many different bands playing at the same time, (all different tunes) and constant water fights, paint ball, foam spray, and fire crackers.
Yesterday, to avoid some of the mayhem, we took at taxi 10 to 12 km up a mountain to Le Fuerte, a large preinkan ruins. We spend an interesting couple of hours touring the site (it´s a UNESCO site), five hundred remains of building and a gigantic carved rock surfact. Then we hiked back to town. Although I found the hike long and tiring, I loved the cliffs, the path, the foliage, a soaring condor, flocks of parakeets and the quiet!
Today, I did one sketch and painting from one of the decks in the hostel. Then I did a second quarter sheet painting a bit up the mountain looking down on some clotheslines, tiles roofs and the mountains in behind. I was often surrounded by at least a dozen kids. I gave everyone canada pins. At the end there was just one little girl so I gave her a set of paints, paper, and brush etc. She was thrilled.
Om Sunday, we got a taxt to Samaipata, a small village 100 km from Santa Cruz. The ride was one of the scariest of my life. Our driver attacked the winding mountain road at top speed, passing all vehicles whether he could see around the curves or not. He wore a seat belt. We had none available. Miracle or miracles we arrived safely.
We booked into a terrific hostel (one of our nicest rooms because it has no television, no air conditioning and it has three windows and a balcony!) We have to pay a 25% surcharge because of Carnival. I told the owner I thought we should get a discount for having to put up with the non stop shinanigans! Anyways we´ve had three days of drunken partying, loud loud music from many different bands playing at the same time, (all different tunes) and constant water fights, paint ball, foam spray, and fire crackers.
Yesterday, to avoid some of the mayhem, we took at taxi 10 to 12 km up a mountain to Le Fuerte, a large preinkan ruins. We spend an interesting couple of hours touring the site (it´s a UNESCO site), five hundred remains of building and a gigantic carved rock surfact. Then we hiked back to town. Although I found the hike long and tiring, I loved the cliffs, the path, the foliage, a soaring condor, flocks of parakeets and the quiet!
Today, I did one sketch and painting from one of the decks in the hostel. Then I did a second quarter sheet painting a bit up the mountain looking down on some clotheslines, tiles roofs and the mountains in behind. I was often surrounded by at least a dozen kids. I gave everyone canada pins. At the end there was just one little girl so I gave her a set of paints, paper, and brush etc. She was thrilled.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Saturday Feb 21, 2009
We caught the bus last night
On the brown altoplano,
Surrounded by the mountains of La Paz.
We awoke this morning
In the lush green tropics.
Grasses as high as trees sway in the breeze.
Chickens wander freely.
Pigs are tethered on ropes.
White humped-backed cattle graze
Along side small white birds.
People eat ouside their thatched adobe huts.
Small brown boys chase and dig and climb trees,
Their sisters play house
Caring tenderly for younger siblings.
Occationally, we pass a town where
The houses are brick and have windows,
The roofs are metal or tile.
Here, approaching Santa Cruz, Bolivia,
There are power lines on big metal poles
And pipelines on the ground.
The pipelines are raised on tresles
Over the huge rivers and small streams.
Everywhere is green.
We are back in the land of giant ant hills.
Fields often have hundreds of these 5 to 6 foot brown mounds.
Sugan cane is grown here,
Date palms, tobaco, soya beans, corn.
And from the road side stalls,
I suspect that avacados and oranges are also grown.
In the wet areas, pink mallow-like blossoms
Look like Disney gardens:
They´re reminescent of the Amazon jungle
Seen on last year´s adventure.
And the back drop of all this green undulating beauty
Seen from the bus,
Is the relentless violence on the bus televisions.
Even though I can ignor the images of
Shooting, smashing, killing, pain,
I can not escape the sound track.
The sounds of fists hitting flesh,
The groans and screams of the dying.
Would they just get it overwith
And die already.
A indigenous lady on the bus reaches
Over to an open window
And tosses out a large bag of garbage.
It bounces close to one
Of the many road side shrines.
One more bag added to the many
That are strewn along
Every road side in Bolivia.
This is the dicotamy that is Bolivia,
The great beauty next to the ugliness.
This is my personal see-saw,
Do I love this land and it´s beauty,
Or can I hardly wait to leave the noice and filth?
On the brown altoplano,
Surrounded by the mountains of La Paz.
We awoke this morning
In the lush green tropics.
Grasses as high as trees sway in the breeze.
Chickens wander freely.
Pigs are tethered on ropes.
White humped-backed cattle graze
Along side small white birds.
People eat ouside their thatched adobe huts.
Small brown boys chase and dig and climb trees,
Their sisters play house
Caring tenderly for younger siblings.
Occationally, we pass a town where
The houses are brick and have windows,
The roofs are metal or tile.
Here, approaching Santa Cruz, Bolivia,
There are power lines on big metal poles
And pipelines on the ground.
The pipelines are raised on tresles
Over the huge rivers and small streams.
Everywhere is green.
We are back in the land of giant ant hills.
Fields often have hundreds of these 5 to 6 foot brown mounds.
Sugan cane is grown here,
Date palms, tobaco, soya beans, corn.
And from the road side stalls,
I suspect that avacados and oranges are also grown.
In the wet areas, pink mallow-like blossoms
Look like Disney gardens:
They´re reminescent of the Amazon jungle
Seen on last year´s adventure.
And the back drop of all this green undulating beauty
Seen from the bus,
Is the relentless violence on the bus televisions.
Even though I can ignor the images of
Shooting, smashing, killing, pain,
I can not escape the sound track.
The sounds of fists hitting flesh,
The groans and screams of the dying.
Would they just get it overwith
And die already.
A indigenous lady on the bus reaches
Over to an open window
And tosses out a large bag of garbage.
It bounces close to one
Of the many road side shrines.
One more bag added to the many
That are strewn along
Every road side in Bolivia.
This is the dicotamy that is Bolivia,
The great beauty next to the ugliness.
This is my personal see-saw,
Do I love this land and it´s beauty,
Or can I hardly wait to leave the noice and filth?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
February 20, 2009
Hello all:
We´ve been in Sorata the past several days. This is a small village in the mountains. The Andes mountains are spectacular, several are snow capped and rival the Himalayas at 6500 meters. Most of them are craggy, vertical mountains, sheathed in green. After weeks of seeing just brown mountains, the green is wonderful. We´re at a lower altitude here, hence the green. This afternoon, Jim and I took a taxi 12 kms to see some caves. The road was amazing, a narrow gravel path winding around the mountain edges. All vehicles here are 4 wheel drive but even the 4 wheel drive couldn´t reach the caves. Part of the road had just disappeared down into the valley last night.
When we returned to Sorata,I convinced Jim to stop for Lupper. While we were enjoying our cervasa and pizza, a local band started playing. It was so sudden and so loud, I thought I´d been shot. It sounded terrible but was played with huge enthusiasm. When a change was called for they speeded it up and played even louder!!
I am still smarting from being told off by an old indigenous lady a couple of days ago. I was plunked down in the market and had a painting started. This old lady was some upset. I promised that I wouldn´t paint her in the painting but that didn´t appease her and so eventually I closed everything up and moved. I felt like crying, I felt so horrible. Eventually I found a sweet little girl, Bernace, and she let me paint her and her stall. A little friend of hers squeezed in as well. After I finished the painting, I did sketches of each of the girls for them. Yesterday I just didn´t have the heart to go to the market again and so I found a narrow street view with mountains in behind. When I say narrow, I really mean narrow. Trucks kept turning down into this street and very very narrowly missing me. The folks that were watching me were flattened against the wall or almost on my lap. Today I did a similiar subject. At times I had fourty kids crowded around me. It was okay except I couldn´t see what I was painting and when ever someone walked by the kids would biff a water balloon and lots of times my painting got splattered with water!
After I finished, I thought I´d nip by the market and give paint sets to my two little friends from a couple of days ago. Immediately one of the women gestured that I should paint her. I couldn´t resist and so I started a second quarter sheet. Then of course I also had to do a sketch to give to her. By this point it was pouring rain. We, artists, certainly have to be tenatious.
Eventually I gave Bernace the paint sets and she was so incredibly happy. She can´t attend school because she has to work her families market stall.
Tomorrow, we will attempt to get a Collectivo out of Saroto and once we get to LaPaz in about three hours we will then try to get an overnight bus to Santa Cruz. I was keen to fly to Santa Cruz but Jim still likes the bus better than flying. Jim is certainly a wonderful travel partner. Nothing gets him down. I´m a bit tired of the stench, the sketchy living conditions and the uncertain safety of the food. Jim just carries on, enjoying all the people, both locals and tourists alike. This morning he was studying his Spanish learning phrases such as ¨Ï think I´m pregnant!
änd more pracically ¨How do I kill that rooster?¨
We´ve been in Sorata the past several days. This is a small village in the mountains. The Andes mountains are spectacular, several are snow capped and rival the Himalayas at 6500 meters. Most of them are craggy, vertical mountains, sheathed in green. After weeks of seeing just brown mountains, the green is wonderful. We´re at a lower altitude here, hence the green. This afternoon, Jim and I took a taxi 12 kms to see some caves. The road was amazing, a narrow gravel path winding around the mountain edges. All vehicles here are 4 wheel drive but even the 4 wheel drive couldn´t reach the caves. Part of the road had just disappeared down into the valley last night.
When we returned to Sorata,I convinced Jim to stop for Lupper. While we were enjoying our cervasa and pizza, a local band started playing. It was so sudden and so loud, I thought I´d been shot. It sounded terrible but was played with huge enthusiasm. When a change was called for they speeded it up and played even louder!!
I am still smarting from being told off by an old indigenous lady a couple of days ago. I was plunked down in the market and had a painting started. This old lady was some upset. I promised that I wouldn´t paint her in the painting but that didn´t appease her and so eventually I closed everything up and moved. I felt like crying, I felt so horrible. Eventually I found a sweet little girl, Bernace, and she let me paint her and her stall. A little friend of hers squeezed in as well. After I finished the painting, I did sketches of each of the girls for them. Yesterday I just didn´t have the heart to go to the market again and so I found a narrow street view with mountains in behind. When I say narrow, I really mean narrow. Trucks kept turning down into this street and very very narrowly missing me. The folks that were watching me were flattened against the wall or almost on my lap. Today I did a similiar subject. At times I had fourty kids crowded around me. It was okay except I couldn´t see what I was painting and when ever someone walked by the kids would biff a water balloon and lots of times my painting got splattered with water!
After I finished, I thought I´d nip by the market and give paint sets to my two little friends from a couple of days ago. Immediately one of the women gestured that I should paint her. I couldn´t resist and so I started a second quarter sheet. Then of course I also had to do a sketch to give to her. By this point it was pouring rain. We, artists, certainly have to be tenatious.
Eventually I gave Bernace the paint sets and she was so incredibly happy. She can´t attend school because she has to work her families market stall.
Tomorrow, we will attempt to get a Collectivo out of Saroto and once we get to LaPaz in about three hours we will then try to get an overnight bus to Santa Cruz. I was keen to fly to Santa Cruz but Jim still likes the bus better than flying. Jim is certainly a wonderful travel partner. Nothing gets him down. I´m a bit tired of the stench, the sketchy living conditions and the uncertain safety of the food. Jim just carries on, enjoying all the people, both locals and tourists alike. This morning he was studying his Spanish learning phrases such as ¨Ï think I´m pregnant!
änd more pracically ¨How do I kill that rooster?¨
Sunday, February 15, 2009
February 15, 2009
This morning, Jim and I took a tour to Tiahuanico. This is an ancient site (two hours by bus from La Paz) that preceeds the Incan Empire by over 1000 years. Probably this site is far more historically significant than Machu Pichu, but the setting is not amazing and the entire site has been looted for 600 years. Five churches in the area were built from stone from Tiahuanico. We did see a giant pyramid and several temples and gates and some monoliths that were quite amazing.
This site now has UNESCO designation and perhaps will gradually be more and more restored.
My main conplaint was that there was a tiny village of Tiahuanico close to the site, but as tours generally go we were not given any time to visit it but rather we were presured into shopping from stalls at the sites gate and also to eat lunch at a restaurant there. Of course I refused. And Jim to his credit, stuck with me. The tour guide was absolutely adamant that the bus was leaving in 30 minutes and we could skip lunch and walk to the town but that we had to be back in 30 minutes and that the bus would not come for us. She also insisted that there was no market in the village. We raced off. Unfortunately the town was more than a ten minute walk. The town was filled with indigenous folk having a marvelous colourful Sunday market. The village church was built in 1500 but of course we barely had time to take a photo of the outside. I snapped photos madly and we raced back to the bus. Of course the other tour people hadn´t even been served their lunch by the time we returned. I was so hopping mad. Then iñ the grand tradition that are tours, we were forced to stand about looking at a few more things and then once we were returned, an hour early to La Paz, we were not taken back to our hostel where they had picked us up but rather we were dumped out in that same witches market we had survived yesterday. Tours may provide safety and ease in visiting various tourists spots but they are definitely not to my liking.
This site now has UNESCO designation and perhaps will gradually be more and more restored.
My main conplaint was that there was a tiny village of Tiahuanico close to the site, but as tours generally go we were not given any time to visit it but rather we were presured into shopping from stalls at the sites gate and also to eat lunch at a restaurant there. Of course I refused. And Jim to his credit, stuck with me. The tour guide was absolutely adamant that the bus was leaving in 30 minutes and we could skip lunch and walk to the town but that we had to be back in 30 minutes and that the bus would not come for us. She also insisted that there was no market in the village. We raced off. Unfortunately the town was more than a ten minute walk. The town was filled with indigenous folk having a marvelous colourful Sunday market. The village church was built in 1500 but of course we barely had time to take a photo of the outside. I snapped photos madly and we raced back to the bus. Of course the other tour people hadn´t even been served their lunch by the time we returned. I was so hopping mad. Then iñ the grand tradition that are tours, we were forced to stand about looking at a few more things and then once we were returned, an hour early to La Paz, we were not taken back to our hostel where they had picked us up but rather we were dumped out in that same witches market we had survived yesterday. Tours may provide safety and ease in visiting various tourists spots but they are definitely not to my liking.
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