On the final day of our trek, we only had to get back to Sucre. From Potolo, there is one bus around 7 in the morning (the exact time depending on how many people the bus had to pick up earlier), and one or two passenger trucks later in the day.
While we were waiting for the bus, an old woman stopped near us, unpacked a bunch of bread from her cloth-turned-backpack, and tried to sell us some. As she was speaking Quechua, only our guide could talk to her. What he told us afterwards was this: the woman lives on her own, without husband or children, and makes a living by buying and selling bread. When asked about her age, she said she doesn't know - can you imagine that? Apparently, she doesn't have papers documenting her birth, no ID card, no passport - and no living relatives who could know...
Most of the people on the bus were peasants going to Sucre to sell their wares in the markets. One woman was carrying a huge bag with potatoes on her back - weighing about 30 kg! Our guide explained that she was coming from Chullpa (a three to four hour walk), and that she was actually carrying three of these bags: she would first carry one of the bags for a while, then leave it next to the path, go back for another bag, and in that way finally make it to the road in Potolo.
The bus ride itself was quite adventurous. The roads are in a terrible state, clinging to the mountainside, and often crossing streams that drop for 30 meters right next to the bus. I don't think a regular bus would have been able to make the journey - there's a reason why this one had wheels like a truck...
Back in Sucre, after saying goodbye to my trekking companions, taking a shower and washing some clothes, I visited the Mercado Campesino. Mercado Campesino is a huge collection of street stalls selling just about everything: food, clothing, furniture, mobile phones, etc.
I bought a pair of flip flops for 30 bolivianos. The same thing goes for 60 pesos in Argentina, about three times as much!
In the evening, I went to dinner with a bunch of people from the hostel. Some of them had spent a few months volunteering in a national park feeding monkeys. I know volunteering is a noble effort, and I love animals, too, but after having seen the poverty of the people in Bolivia, I couldn't help but feel that there are more important areas to volunteer in than just feeding a few animals...
While we were waiting for the bus, an old woman stopped near us, unpacked a bunch of bread from her cloth-turned-backpack, and tried to sell us some. As she was speaking Quechua, only our guide could talk to her. What he told us afterwards was this: the woman lives on her own, without husband or children, and makes a living by buying and selling bread. When asked about her age, she said she doesn't know - can you imagine that? Apparently, she doesn't have papers documenting her birth, no ID card, no passport - and no living relatives who could know...
Most of the people on the bus were peasants going to Sucre to sell their wares in the markets. One woman was carrying a huge bag with potatoes on her back - weighing about 30 kg! Our guide explained that she was coming from Chullpa (a three to four hour walk), and that she was actually carrying three of these bags: she would first carry one of the bags for a while, then leave it next to the path, go back for another bag, and in that way finally make it to the road in Potolo.
The bus ride itself was quite adventurous. The roads are in a terrible state, clinging to the mountainside, and often crossing streams that drop for 30 meters right next to the bus. I don't think a regular bus would have been able to make the journey - there's a reason why this one had wheels like a truck...
Back in Sucre, after saying goodbye to my trekking companions, taking a shower and washing some clothes, I visited the Mercado Campesino. Mercado Campesino is a huge collection of street stalls selling just about everything: food, clothing, furniture, mobile phones, etc.
I bought a pair of flip flops for 30 bolivianos. The same thing goes for 60 pesos in Argentina, about three times as much!
In the evening, I went to dinner with a bunch of people from the hostel. Some of them had spent a few months volunteering in a national park feeding monkeys. I know volunteering is a noble effort, and I love animals, too, but after having seen the poverty of the people in Bolivia, I couldn't help but feel that there are more important areas to volunteer in than just feeding a few animals...
