Bolivia

Bolivia – the altitude. Anyone who does not cope well with altitude sickness knows how tricky it can be to land in La Paz. Bolivia has two capitals: Sucre (constitutional capital) and La Paz (administrative capital). It’s officially called the Plurinational State of Bolivia. La Paz is the highest capital in the world (3,640 m) but its airport is even higher, situated in the city of El Alto (literally meaning ‘the Heights’) at 4,062m. Bolivia is a landlocked country with mainly mestizo population (nearly 70%), 37 official languages and many stories about Pacha Mama.

But first, as always. Food. 

Capinota and pies

There is a small Bolivian family business Capinota in the suburb of Lurnea, in Western Sydney. Capinota is so popular that clients are advised to order two weeks prior, which I have done and my order is waiting for me when JK and I drive to pick up the food for our Bolivian night. We are served by the owner, José, who is delightful and friendly. He tells us that Capinota used to be a restaurant but closed its doors in 2019 as the take away business really took off and, with the number of clients, there was no need to maintain the restaurant itself. We have a lovely conversation about Virtual Nomad, Bolivian food and Bolivian culture with José and a Bolivian client who came to collect his order. José tells us that, for food, Cochabamba is the place to go in Bolivia. He explains what the different foods are and how to eat them. We are very happy to support a small local business and also happy to hear how successful it has become. For the quality of food and the service, Capitanota gets a 10/10 rating from us. 

The planned Bolivian night takes an unexpected turn when two of our friends, newbies to the Virtual Nomad universe, sadly cancel at the last minute. This leaves a smaller group of us but we are still seven to enjoy the Bolivian delicatessen. 

The Capinota food selection includes traditional pies. Our selection included salteñas, quichadimis, empanadas, puka capas, cheese balls and traditional drinks: api and mocochinchi. 

Capinota describes salteñas as “one of the most popular national appetizers dishes in Bolivia specially on Sundays. Salteñas it is a sweet pastry, and it is filled with a sweet and spicy broth made with aji amarillo (yellow pepper) and the filling has chicken, beef, potatoes, veggies, a slice of hard boiled egg and olive, it makes you feel heating a bowl of soup inside a pie”. 

As for salteñas, we get both spicy and non spicy. All are very well received. Quichamidis are everyone’s favourite. They are filled with homemade cheese that José and his family prepare and it has a unique, rich flavour that melts in the mouth. It is, of course, unfair to say that quichamidis are the favourite because the rest of the pies are also immensely delicious. Empanadas are filled with cheese and very rich and filling. Puka capas are traditional pies from Cochabamba that Capinota describes as “spicy, cheese, onions, Quilquiña and locoto-filled round empanadas often served as party appetizers”. The least favourite award goes to the cheese balls – they are yummy enough but do not match the richness and exotic flavours of the rest of the food. 

Before the Inca Empire ruled the lands of the highlands of Bolivia and surrounds, the human sacrificing Tiwanaku lived on the altiplano of Bolivia. Pachacuti was the Inca leader who conquered Bolivia and forced Quechua to be the administrative language over Aymara (both spoken in Bolivia today). Then of course, the conquistadors arrived and the region felt the savaged rule of Francisco Pizarro – one the most savage among the extremely savage conquistadors. The conditions the First Nations people were subjected to were horrible and inhuman. History remembers great leaders of Indigenous rebellions such as Tumac Amaru who was captured and executed by the Spanish at the age of 27. When Spanish rule started to crack (as the Spaniard had other fronts open), Bolivian cities were among the first to fight against them. Bolivia derives its name from Simón Bolivar (1783-1830). Bolivia became independent in 1825. Poor leadership gradually led to conflict with its neighbours and to losing about half of its land. Ceding territory in the west to Chile in 1904 led to Bolivia being cut off from the sea – a loss that is still felt today. 

The 20^th century political history of Bolivia is interesting and would deserve an extensive entry of its own. In a nutshell, Bolivia experienced an unstable political climate going back and forth between military and civilian governments. One famous incident was the death of the revolutionary leader, Che Quevara, at the hands of the CIA and the Bolivian armed forces. The CIA backed the 1971 military coup of Hugo Banzer that led to a violent dictatorship until 1978. That was not the last of Mr Hugo as he returned in 1997 as the democratically elected President of Bolivia. Several changes of government in the latter part of the 20^th century fuelled instability. In 2006, Evo Morales was elected as the first Indigenous president and he held the presidency until 2019. During Morales’ first term, Bolivia famously broke free from the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, eradicated illiteracy and introduced the notion of plurinationalism that includes the requirement of civil servants to speak at least one Indigenous language. Bolivia also has a Ministry of Cultures as opposed to one dominant culture. Morales has been described as both an inspirational leader with a strong social agenda as well as a controversial character with a questionable taste for underage women. The current president is Luis Arce who was one of the longest serving ministers of the Morales government. 

Four BOOKS from Bolivia

As for the books from Bolivia, I turn to a Bolivian friend NC who recommends three authors. I decide to read one book from each, and then I cheat and read another book from one of them. Again these books might not have a translation, so I proceed to read them in the original language. 

Edmundo Paz Soldán is one of the most well known current Bolivian authors. He is professor of Latin American literature at Cornell and is described as having unusual narrative intelligence. That description prompts me to read two books from him. The first one, Desencuentros (1994) is a compilation of Edmundo’s first two books (Las máscaras de la nada, 1990 and Desapariciones, 1994). It is a collection of short stories, or one could say, very short stories – better call them micro-stories. More than stories, they are thoughts or moments in time. Most of them are very astute and ingenious. Some, of course, less so, mainly due simply to the amount of material. It is a fascinating and easily consumed narrative journey, full of funny, hilarious, bizarre and sharp moments, and intriguing characters. A librarian who loves the books so much that they invent excuses not to lend them (“the mayor needs this one”); the man who has found the perfect woman with whom to have a perfect love and therefore he leaves her; the man who returns home to find a costume party where he knows no one, joins the party and never learns who the people are; the man who enjoys his wife’s silence so much he fails to notice that she left him four years ago; the man who needs to work several jobs to maintain his family so he has not been able to talk to them in seven years – it’s a long parade of different characters. In the end it is highly entertaining, cleverly constructed fast literature / narrative that does not leave a lasting impression but entertains with sharp imagery and time-saving storytelling for the TikTok-times. 

The next book from Edmundo is called Norte (North, 2006). This one has a traditional narrative. While the previous book I read from Edmundo is light, entertaining and easily consumable, this book is much darker and shockingly violent. The way Edmundo writes is crude and sublime, and even though I do not fully enjoy the book itself, I am grateful to NC for introducing this writer to me. That’s one of the beauties of the Virtual Nomad journey: discovering authors I would not otherwise have known. This book is not situated in Bolivia but in the ‘North’ and interlinks the stories of three different people – two of them based in real-life: a serial killer, a schizophrenic artist and a young waitress (in fact, only one of them has Bolivian roots). The fact that Edmundo is a literature academic shows in the book. There are elements of modern literature snobbishness and not-so-subtle slaps to the academy. The writing is better than the story itself. It is skilfully written but shockingly violent, indulging in shocking details and then quite mundane and empty in other parts. One of the stories – the serial killer – is clearly the centerpiece of the story while the reason for the inclusion of the other stories is not quite clear. Disturbingly it is based on a real person (I will not disclose who) and the detailed description of extreme violence is disturbing to the point that it becomes nauseating and brings the story down. 

The book forms part of a Latin American literary movement – McOndo – with a focus on the effect of globalisation and modern reality (as counterpart to “Macondo”, the magical realism represented by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the literary icon from Colombia). Overall, I enjoy Edmundo’s style of writing but the book itself I did not appreciate so much.  

I move from Edmundo to Adolfo Cárdenas. My friend NC has recommended I read his book Periférica Boulevard (Periferic Boulevard, 2005). Runner up for the National Literature Prize in 2005, this book is situated in the urban environment of fast-talking, drug-fuelled underground clubs and urban misfits. It is a book that reads like a movie. The dialogue is a mixture of Spanish and urban slang with Indigenous words and the story moves as a dialogue that is somewhat confusing regarding who is doing the talking at times. The story unfolds as a sort of detective story of the murder of an underground heavyweight (“the King”) and the hunt for his presumed killer (“the Wolf”). The book contains graffiti illustrations and the book is a bit like graffiti itself – bold and colourful, and quite frankly probably difficult if not impossible to translate into another language as the core of the book is the urban dialogue that is highly localised. Some of the idioms are foreign to me but overall it’s quite easy and engaging to follow the delicious explosion of urban jargon and the fast-paced symphony for the marginalised and the outcasts.  

My final book comes from the recently deceased Gaby Vallejo, who is considered one of the most influential Bolivian authors. Her most famous book is El Hijo de la Opa (translated as the Son of a Maid, 1977) but, despite many attempts, I cannot get hold of it. I decide to read another highly rated book of hers, Ruta Obligada from 2008. It becomes my favourite book of the Virtual Nomad stop in Bolivia. The central piece of the story, divided in three parts, is the relationship between two women – Marcela and Martha Julia – but other characters also are introduced: an abused orphan Tomasa who goes through unimaginable hell and the unlucky in love Fabrizio. It is a tale of desire and death in Cochabamba. La ruta (the route) refers to a specific route that, instead of a journey, becomes a destiny. It is also about other routes, the routes of life and desire, abuse and poverty, violence and hopelessness, misery and female suffering. The author herself says “confirmation of the humility of the body, an obligatory route / of the fragility of the flesh, an obligatory route / of the uselessness of the bones, an obligatory route / soon loneliness sets in”. 

Six films from Bolivia

Bolivia has a surprisingly active movie industry with several recommended films. In order to choose from the interesting selection on offer, we opt for the same methodology used for the stop in Belgium. We ask Bolivian friends for their favourite movies and then compare those recommendations with the critics’ choices of the movies to watch from Bolivia. It’s not that we value the critics’ choices more than those of friends – quite the contrary. Both usually have common entries. The top recommendations for Bolivia include movies such as Zona Sur (Southern District 2011); Nación Clandestina (Secret Nation, 1989); Jonás y la ballena rosa (Jonas and the pink whale, 1994); Cuestión de fe (Question of Faith, 1995); el Cementerio de los Elefantes (Cemetery of the elephants, 2008); Quién mató a la llamita blanca (Who killed the white llama, 2007); Los Andes no creen en dios (The Andes do not believe in god, 2007);  Dependencia sexual (Sexual dependency, 2003); Dark skull; Soren; Cocaleto; Winay; Viejo calavera; Visa American; and El minero del diablo. We can’t watch them all so decide to watch the first six.

Zona Sur (Southern District, 2011) by Juan Carlos Valdivia is one of the most commercially successful Bolivian movies. It is a mature, intriguing story of a wealthy white family and their Indigenous servant staff on the verge of societal change. The name refers to the affluent southern part of the capital La Paz, the district of the rich and powerful. The family is headed by a matriarch who is seemingly friendly and inclusive of the Indigenous servants but has them following her around, including to the toilet, and handing her a glass of water when she is brushing her teeth. This, despite the fact she has not paid them in six months. Nevertheless, the Indigenous staff are treated as part of the family, always with a loving, condescending superiority that demonstrates the divide between race and class – the root of the profound inequality. The uninterested, entitled offspring of the matriarch include a sex-crazy teenage boy, a politically awakening lesbian daughter and a small boy who finds a more affectionate environment with the servants than his busy mother. The camera moves around, making long, 360 degree shots, which is interesting but at times nauseating. In the end the societal change portrayed is effective but subtle – not a world changing revolution but a description of the growing economic power of the discriminated, and how that change still comes to some more than to others. 

Another movie by Juan Carlos Valdivia is his debut Jonás y la ballena rosada (Jonah and the pink whale, 1994). Filmed in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, it is not a particularly good movie. Melodramatic and ridiculous at times with a modest intent of social commentary (workers’ rights, hyperinflation and the growing power of drug carters), it is plagued by bad acting and a hollow story of lust. The plot follows a sexually repressed school teacher with a frigid wife who falls for his wife’s sexually liberated, rebellious and obnoxious sister. When the school teacher loses his job due to his father-in-law’s political connections, he becomes a photographer and, not surprisingly, starts taking nude photos of his sister-in-law. The camera follows and fetishises the sister-in-law who seemingly has little to do in the movie other than be a pretty sex object. The history of cinema is full of these stories: a common man becomes obsessed with an erratic younger woman. A couple of sex scenes take advantage of the objectification of her body and then someone dies. 

El Cementerio de los elefantes (2008) by Tonchy Antezana is a sad and heavy movie about a life-long alcoholic in the outskirts of La Paz (El Alto). The name – the Cemetery of the elephants – refers to the old African fable, a mythical place where elephants wander to die. The protagonist ends up in a ‘Cemetery of the elephants’ to die from alcohol. These are places where cheap alcohol is sold but there is not much more – no furniture, no security and many people fall asleep and never wake up. The movie is narrated by the internal voice of the main character while he remembers his misfortunes, broken dreams and other events of his life. The background of the movie is the underworld of El Alto and La Paz – insecurity, addiction, domestic abuse, prostitution, poverty and violence. Filmed in a mere fifteen days and with a budget of US$30, it helped raise awareness of the existence of ‘cemeteries of elephants’ and shed light to the rampant problem of alcoholism in Bolivia.

Nación Clandestina (The Secret Nation, 1989) by Jorge Sanjinés is a movie about identity and redemption, or more precisely about a journey to embrace an identity and to pay for one’s sins. After being absent for years, an Aymara Indigenous man returns to his community from which he was expelled after a serious betrayal. He has lived in the city where he has been a victim of discrimination and racism. He returns home to perform an ancient dance that will result in his death and hopefully pardon him for his wrongdoings. It has a similar structure to that of The Cemetery of the Elephants. The story is told in flashbacks while the main character prepares to die. The name refers to the ‘society within society’ – the Indigenous culture living underneath or parallel to a westernised culture, trying to survive in times of political turbulence and violence. The actors are mainly amateur Aymara actors and the dialogue is mostly in Aymara.  It is the most powerful movie I have seen so far from Bolivia, which does not mean it is easy to watch. It is a highly political, impactful movie that is slow paced. The director is known for his films denouncing the discrimination experienced by the Indigenous population of Bolivia. The movie does not excuse the behaviour of Sebastián (the main character). He is shown to be a man of questionable conduct, as evidenced by his interactions with his wife. In the end, the movie is much bigger than an individual story of growth and self-acceptance. It is about marginalisation, repression and the conservation of culture. 

Danzanti, the dance that Sebastián, the main character, performs is a real Aymara dance and the name refers to ‘Great Lord Dancer’. It is said to be performed to the death, either to boost fertility or to allow someone who has let their community down to pay for their sins. 

Cuestión de fe (Question of Faith, 1995) is a highly awarded debut film from Marco Loayza. It is a well-loved road movie in Bolivia about three fellows transporting a human sized Virgin Mary to a faraway village. Two of them know each other and the third one becomes their truck-stealing chauffeur. The three friends drive through different Bolivian villages having experiences ranging from cock fighting to a wedding, meeting different people along the way. It is easy to understand why this has been a popular movie in Bolivia. It is a movie that many other countries also have – a road movie based around friends travelling through the countryside, reflecting the cultural idiosyncrasy of a place and talking to the audience of that particular region. It features three not particularly smart men that things happen to, each with a distinct personal journey. It might not be the most appealing movie to me personally but I can see its cultural significance and its portrayal of ‘deep’ Bolivia is interesting. 

The final film of the Bolivian Movie Festival is Quién mató a la llamita blanca? (Who killed the white llama, 2006) by Rodrigo Bellott. It is a tragicomedy and a wild satire. It has been called both “a celebration and a parody of Bolivian customs, countryside and culture”. It is fast-paced, smart in its delivery, sharp in its parody and overall, hilarious. Visually creative and clever, the screen is alive with its unusual and highly creative storytelling. The characters are well defined caricatures and the movie carries itself extremely well. It has a darker undertone which is not underlined but visible throughout the movie. Above all, the movie is about poverty, discrimination, political corruption, racism and drug trafficking. It is my overall favourite of our Bolivian film festival. 

Music from Bolivia

Popular Bolivian music has strong roots in the Indigenous cultures of the region. The most popular artists include Zulma Yugar, Gonzalo Hermoso González, Panchi Maldonado, Luzmila Carpio, Betty Veizaga, folkloric Kala Marca, Claudia Arce (more standard Latin American music) and the bluesy Sibah. As for modern musicians, the rich list of Bolivian contemporary musicians include Bonny Lovy, Los Kjarkas, Elias Ayaviri and Adely. 

Next stop: Bosnia and Herzegovina