Of Awayos and Camiones

Riding the Camione back to Potosi with the locals, and a whole lot of zinc ore

It cost us three days, more than it probably should, two cases of sunburn, two very sore arses, and enough sitting around waiting to test the patience of even the most dedicated buddist monk. But after all the messing around, we achieved what we set out to achieve. We got ourselves an Awayo.

There are many things in Bolivia that are unique to this country - puro, road blockades, and llama sacrafice are definitely amongst them. But also unique is the traditional style of dress still worn by many local women. One of the most characteristic pieces of clothing is the Awayo - a square piece of woven cloth, approximately 1m by 1m, that is worn around the shoulders, kind of like a sling, and is used to carry everything from groceries to coca to babies - we have even seen one of the women volunteers in the nun´s house cleaning the floor with both hands while her baby, slung in front of her in an Awayo, breastfeeds! Impressive to say the least. The vast majority of awayos that you see everyday are of the brightly coloured machine woven variety, and cost about Bs 15 (US$2) in the market. However, traditionally they were woven by hand from naturally dyed wool, typically taking several months to complete. Dorthe and I have been fascinated by the beautiful and intricate patterns that you see, and long ago decided that we were going to buy one as a wall hanging. However, after looking around nearly every shop in town, we couldn´t decide what we wanted. So, instead of buying one off the shelf, once again we made the stupid mistake of deciding to do things our way (you´d think we´d have learnt by now).

Of all the weavings that we saw in town, one particular style struck us the most - that from the village of Calcha. Calcha weaving is renownwed for being extremeley fine - up to 150 threads per inch, by some sources. Although it is quite simple, it is also rather elegant. And most importantly, we really liked it. So, this weekend, we set off for the village of Calcha, 116km to the south of Potosi, determined to buy ourselves a nice Awayo directly from the lady who had made it with no middle man(which also appealed my leftie fair-trade sensibilities). It was supposed to be a 24 hour weekend jaunt, a simple overnight there and back. Of course nothing is ever that simple in this country, and instead it ended up being an epic....

Getting to Calcha is not easy - you won´t find it in any guidebooks, that´s for sure. We asked many people over several weeks - including people from Calcha itself, and everytime we got a different answer - not unheard of here. In the end, the best advice seemed to be coming from the local tourist office - timetables, departure locations, and an assurance that there was a hostal in Calcha. Sweet. Away we go.

And of course, right from the start, they were wrong. The bus, at 3pm Saturday from Mercado Uyuni, never appeared. Some people that we asked in the market said, "No, go two blocks up to the Plaza, it goes from there". At the plaza, they said go back to Mercado Uyuni. Arggghhh. After going round in that circle for a while, we gave up, and tried another option people had suggested - Plaza Minero. And there was no bus to Calcha from there either. But the last bus driver we asked did have an interesting alternative - "I go to Vitichi, from there you can catch a minibus to Calcha mañana (tomorrow)." (Warning: when south americans say mañana, it could mean anytime in the next week!). And of course, after all the false information we had had, we were very wary about believing him. So, after much umming and ahhh, we threw caution to the wind and took the risk...

...which paid off. Sort of. We made the 90km south to Vitichi in three hours (including a half hour break for a flat tire), arriving about 8pm, and found a place to both eat and sleep there without too many problems. The next morning, we got up nice and early to catch the 9am micro (minibus) we had been promised... which of course, didn´t exist. Am I starting to sound like a worn record yet? However, fate was on our side, because Sunday was also market day in Vitichi, which meant that all the local camiones (trucks) from the surrounding villages came in to sell their wares - including people from Calcha. After much asking around, we found three camiones that were returning to Calcha about 1pm. No wurries - we spent the morning wandering around the market and town, attracting a LOT of strange looks from the locals. We also met an american peace corp volunteer who was living there - he said that we were the first gringos in town who weren´t his friends in the two years that he´d been there! That might explain the stares!

Dorthe getting windblown in the back of a camione with the locals on the way to Calcha

1pm came and we got a ride in the back of an empty camione. When I say ride, I am actually meaning in the roller-coaster sense - we bounced around in the back of this empty cattle truck for an hour (standing all the way, there was no point in sitting), getting throughly coated in dust, and attracting more curious looks from the dozen or so locals who were sharing our mode of transport. As rough and dusty as it was, it was also great fun, and eventually got us to Calcha an hour later. And what a beautiful little village it is - set deep in a valley, surrounded by catcus covered badlands, Calcha is a little oasis of life in a barren, dry, remote landscape. When we rolled into town, it seemed that everyone was there to greet us - they were waiting to load up the camione for a return trip I think. Again, we attracted a lot of attention - it seems there were even fewer gringo visitors to this little village.

So, to business - initially we had problems trying to find anyone who had an Awayo to sell. But after a while, the locals figured out that there was money to be made, and we started to make progress. Quite a few people said to go and see "Lucia Cruz, the gringita". What is a gringa (a female gringo) doing way out here? Who know? What we were doing way out there for that matter? Who knows? We walked for about two kilometres towards her house, and on the way met a nice chap with a wheelbarrow, who as it turned out, was her nephew - so he took us to see her directly.... except she wasn´t a gringo. She was, in fact, 100% pure Quechua indian -traditional dress and all. Confused? We certaintly were. But anyway, she had a nice collection of Awayo´s that she was willing to part with, and in the end we choose one, and managed to negotiate a reasonable sort of price. In restrospect, with both of us speaking spanish as a second language (Quechua being her first), that was the easiest part of the entire trip! We´re still not completely sure whether "gringita" was just her nickname, or whether we got scammed, and the real (gringa) Lucia Cruz is out there somewhere waiting for us though.

Lucia Cruz (the gringita), the woman who made our Awayo (currently doing the washing)

Getting home, however, continued in the same vein as the outward trip. Returning to the centre of the village around 5pm (it was getting dark), we found that every camione had left for the night, and probably wasn´t going to be back for several days. "What about the micro the tourist information office promised us daily at 6pm?". "Que?" (eh?). Yeah.... Looks like we´re staying the night in Calcha. "What about the hostal that the tourist information office promised us?" "Que?". Oh excellent. Sleeping in the open, when it freezes overnight, was not appealing. After much asking around, some locals suggested we try the doctor - "There are beds in the hospital that he´ll let you sleep in" "Que?" (that was me that time). So, we went and asked the doctor if we could sleep in the hospital beds. He said that it was fine, but first we should go and ask the priests - we were led to the house of the three trainee priests who are resident in Calcha. All three of them were from Colombia, and were more than willing to offer us a bed in their huge house of 40 beds (don´t ask me why a village of five families (yes five families) has a priests house with 40 beds in it - I don´t know the answer).

And so, we spent the night eating and talking with three Colombian priests, which as you can imagine was a fascinating experience. After dinner, we played dominos with them, and well, let me warn you about Colombian´s and dominos. For those of you who think that dominos is a game of chance (which included Dorthe and I), apparently it´s not - we played about fifteen to twenty games in total throughout the night - I won one, Dorthe won one, and the three priests won the remainder between them. With statistics like that, either God was smiling on the priests (a possibility - they were priests after all) or there are some tactics involved - we just can´t figure what they are....

Monday morning rolled around, and we set off to try and make our way back to Potosi, Awayo in hand. There were still no camiones, and still no micros. A four hour slog through the desert to the main road was a possibility, but a rather unappealing one. In the end, we convinced a local to drive us up to the road for a small fee (ok, so it wasn´t such a small fee by Bolivian standards!) - fortunately, he needed to go into Vitichi for fuel, so we got an extra 10km for nothing. We had already already missed the daily bus back to Potosi (which left at 5am for some reason), so the only other choice was to flag down another camione ....

....except there weren´t any. Not one. We sat in Vitichi, on what is a major road, for four hours, and did not see one vehicle heading north. A few heading south, yes, but not one going north. Why? Well, the road was blockaded by protests about six hours south in Tupiza, and so there was no simply no traffic heading north. So, we sat in the sun for most of the afternoon and baked....

Dorthe on top of our Camione, during a break on the ride back to Potosi.

...and then fortunate smiled on us - a camione, loaded to the brim with zinc ore heading to Potosi for refining, appeared from nowhere. We flagged him down, and climbed on board. This was travel, Bolivian style. Seats? On top of the ore of course. Air conditioning? Free of charge (the truck only averaged about 25kph, so it was quite pleasant.... until it got dark, and REALLY cold). Food service? Bring your own. Reclining seats? Sleeper class infact - all the way back, with plenty of leg room.

I mock it, but in fact, sitting on top of a mining truck, rolling along through the Bolivian countryside is a fantastic way to travel. You see so much, and its not really all that uncomfortable - lots of space to stretch and walk around if need be. The only real problem is the potential that you could bounce off the side and over the edge: but then we weren´t exactly bouncing that much, considering that we had about 15 tonne of ore on the back!

What it was all about - detail of part of our Awayo

We finally arrived in Potosi on dusk: tired, sunburnt, dusty, and with sore arses. The trip, like this posting, was an epic. But my goodness it was fun. Travelling like that is something we both enjoy immensely - it is extremeley challenging, and far beyond anything you could find in a guidebook. You can do all the research you like, but it can often be completely and utterly useless, even when it comes from supposed authories. All you can rely on is your patience, and your ability to get rides/beds using your half-baked spanish, and then try to be prepared for whatever else comes along. In retrospect, we could have brought the Awayo in any old shop in Potosi, or anywhere else in Bolivia - it probably would have been cheaper (all up), and would without a doubt have been faster. But then, we wouldn´t have had such an enjoyable experience, and a great story, to go with our Awayo from Calcha.