Santa Cruz de la Sierra

Orange Tampico and a bag of coca leaves are pure necessities on a 22-hour bus ride from the brisk 14k Aymara metropolis to Bolivia’s eastern tropics. I had forgotten about heat. Indeed, it was so hot in Santa Cruz that the ink in my passport stamps began to melt down their pretty blue pages.

I had survived a semester of humidity-filled Costa Rican bus-rides a few years ago, but the trips were always toward a very clear destinational reward: a gorgeous refreshing Central American beach – Pacific or Caribbean – have your pick. But with no ocean to speak of, the Bolivian lowlands are their own brand of reality.

This reality extends to race, politics, economics and culture as well. Santa Cruz is the ideological antithesis to my beloved La Paz and the stronghold of President Morales’ opposition. And as much as I favor unity in almost any situation (including Bolivia’s current political divisions), I can certainly see how the Eastern call for autonomy must have come very naturally given the stark differences from the Western highlands. But then again, what does New York City Pizza have in common with my aunt’s pressure-cooked squirrel meat in Vidor, Texas? Not much I’m afraid – but that didn’t deter General Sherman, right? A friend studying in Santa Cruz commented on the same theme, noting how helpful federalism could be for developing nations – too bad, he said, that Santa Cruz’s attempt at it is based in racism against the more indigenously populated highlands.

My upper-class landlord had praised Santa Cruz’s vividness before I left La Paz, but my heart knew then that nothing could be more alive than La Paz and her sister El Alto. Neon tank-tops and palm trees do not equate to “more culture” I’m afraid.

And about those tank-tops – several men had told me how beautiful the women are in Santa Cruz, but all I’ve noticed is that they wear less clothing (proving once more what simple minded creatures men really are). But you certainly can’t blame the women for being scantily clad, since it appears everyone is slowly melting to their deaths out there.

I’m looking forward to a couple of weeks here, though I’ll be traveling out to a small Guarani Population for most of that. For now I’ll just say: so far, so hot, I mean so far so good.