Coroico day off

Up first thing (about 9am) had a leisurely breakfast in the hotel admiring the view and relaxing. Hax and I were leaning out the window looking at the view and the garden when I noticed a small green bird in the garden and then realised that it was a hummingbird with the wings going flat out as it ducked from one flower to the next. In between the flowers it flew much like any bird flies, but when it got to the flower it was really very spectacular with its wings turning to an invisible state as the beat frequency went off the charts, and the birds body was absolutely still while it probed the flower for nectar. Harry has noticed that there is a zip line in the area. This is a massive flying fox, that stretches in three stages over 1.5 km and goes from one ridge to another over valleys several hundred metres below the line. It is simple for me, I am very cautious with heights (terrified), so I said up front with no reservations I would be less than keen and may have even described the likely result in my gastrointestinal reflexes mid cannon, however as El Bastardo knows I am easily swayed with peer pressure with these things, and I would be able to launch myself into the abyss of certain doom, with little expectation of enjoyment, just to avoid feeling like the odd one out, or to stop the eye rolling about my cowardess. Hax however, even now with the day having passed, I do not know where he stands, he just maintained his silence when we were talking about this, looking thoughtful. Harry did notice thought that whenever the topic was raised Hax took himself off to the toilet for his upset tummy. Eventually Harry stopped talking about it and we all relaxed. Kurt the resident guy of interest, who came here and never left and has been living here for two years with free board and food in exchange for some work on the breakfast menu etc., He has a demeanor that spells laid back and burned out hippy with limited functional brain capacity after too much of something illegal, but generally harmless and helpful. Kurt spent a big chunk of time telling me all about his woes and even asked me for US$2000 which he needed to be able to leave Bolivia, when met with a stony silence he added “I was only joking”, I am not sure he was.

After our hectic mornings start, we decided to head into town for coffee. Hax read in the lonely planet that there was a café that serves the best coffee in town, La Senda Verda, but we couldn’t find it. We asked a local guy where we might find it, and after a moments thought he said up there around the corner (in Spanish). We went up there around the corner and still couldn’t find it. Just around the next corner was the town info site, and we asked in there, “no they closed” we herd, the best coffee is over there, on the other side of the Plaza, so off we went to the newly recommended café. The gastronomic explorer ordered a coffee that we did not understand and Harry and I ordered a Cappuccino. Hax made the right choice once again with his coffee what ever it was called being a Ristretto pour with a small amount of milk. A long macchiato really and tasted very good, the cappuccinos on the other hand were over extracted, bitter and disappointing, 4/10. We noticed some young tourists walking down the street with ridiculous clothing that they probably thought was Bolivian dress, bright cotton shirts, baggy pants also very brightly coloured and with some sort of hat that looked like a turban also brightly coloured, with non of these bright colours particularly matching or complementing each other. I noticed some local men leaning against the opposite corner dressed traditionally in trousers and shirt and collar, looking at them pass and laughing to each other, then another traditional Bolivian man walk past in shirt collar and tie and trousers while another Bolivian women and local walked past in the other direction in an Adidas track suit. Perhaps these tourists were trying too hard.

I enjoyed looking at he very colorful art in this café, and asked the lady behind the counter if the art was for sale, she no English, me no Spanish, eventually established that the art was not for sale. We moved on to the next Coffee house via the postal agency which was based in the front room of a lady called Gloria, who had a couple of dogs that she shooed away with much hilarity before serving us and selling me a post card and Harry and Hax a bunch of stamps. I wrote the Post card at the next café while we tried another couple of coffees, and some cake this time. I followed Haxes lead this time and ordered something that neither of us recognized and Harry, to establish the industry standard, stuck with the Cappuccino, these ones were not bad, Cappuccino in a tall glass with a layered coffee and milk and the ones Hax and I ordered were double strength of the same. We noticed some local girls buying frozen bananas with chocolate coating so finished off with one of these, very nice.

Went for a walk around the town. Cobbled streets, very narrow with a variety of small shops selling produce, clothes and general supplies. People hanging around and taking it easy. Outside one café a little boy came out onto the street dropped his pants and peed in the street. I latter noticed people throwing buckets of water onto the street, and it runs away only so far then soaks through the cobbles to the ground below. Generally a relaxed and happy seeming town. We wandered back up the steep hill to our hotel and changed to go for a walk to see the waterfall that is rated as being worth the walk. It took a fair bit of effort to find the track up passed a church high on the hill that was walking access only and around a pipeline. The track was overgrown and looked down on the local agriculture with Coca, bananas and a variety of vegetable crops being grown. After about one hour we worried that we were going to run out of light so decided to jog for a while then after a km or so came around the corner to the most disappointing water fall. It would have been picturesque enough except it had a concrete dam at its base, to gather water and was surrounded by rubbish and a high barbed wire fence. Above this the waterfall cascaded beautifully and no doubt previously was very nice. We turned around and jogged back to the part of the track where it became too overgrown for jogging and walked back to the village from there. We noticed a group of people picking Coca, much in the way tea is picked with large bags on their backs, plucking he leaves one by one.

I headed back down to the plaza to see if the postal lady had her doors open after the siesta, which she did, and posted my post card. I thought that painting in the café earlier really was nice, it must be for sale, and she just probably did not understand me. I went back again to try to purchase the painting but no this time there was no doubt about it, the painting is not for sale. Even showing her the colour of my money did not sway this decision. It must be the good stuff.

Back to the hotel for a shower and a pleasant evening having a few refreshing ales and a pizza from the wood fired pizza oven. Very relaxing day, much stronger at this altitude.