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After 30 hours on the bus, through snowy passes and river beds between Chile and Bolivia, we reached the Tarija area.
Still unknown, this vineyard was nevertheless a necessary stage for us, being the highest in the world.
At the beginning of March, the harvest 2005 had already begun and the pickers were chewing coca leaves
to help them put their heart into their work.
Roads being widely damaged and public transports non-existent, a Bolivian taxi took us on this improvised wine route.
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The specialty of this wine-producing region was not so much in its grape varieties, made of 80% of
muscat d’Alexandrie, but in its vineyards of altitude
which rose 9,000 feet above sea level.
This was indeed quite far from 1,500 feet, often considered as a summit in term of viticulture.
All the wineries - less than a dozen all in all - distilled their grapes and elaborated
some singani which was the main competitor of the South American pisco.
However, their production was not only based on this local spirit.
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It also included a confidential range of wines which deserved interest. The Concepción, whose
ancesters were the Augustinian and Jesuit missionaries from the beginning of the 17th century,
was quite a perfect illustration.
The requirement and the humility of the people of this estate, along with the elegancy and
the balance of their reserve cabernet sauvignon, left us an unforgetable memory.
The stimulating vin Mariani, produced in the 19th century from wine of Bordeaux
and extract of coca leaves, has been since well replaced by the
Cepas de Altura, the wines of altitude.
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Bolivia, besides offering an extraordinary vineyard, also showed us an
incredible spectacle when going onto the Altiplano.
This high plateau which crossed the country from North to South and reached
more than 13,000 feet showed nature at its best.
The Salar of Uyuni, the largest area of salt in the world, took our breath away.
The colored lagoons and their colonies of flamingoes, the volcanoes and the active
geysers, the mountains and the canyons populated with lamas made the landscape
look like the paintings of Salvador Dali.
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To leave these sublime areas, we answered to the shouting of the bus criers.
Because of the high rate of illiteracy, they used their voice to attract the
clients’ attention: “A La Paz! A La Paz!”
On board, our fellow travellers
smelt of woodfire, the only way of heating and cooking in their homes made of straw and adobe.
Their hens, transported in big bags made of hessian, were quite an animation.
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The bus was the only ground means of transport to reach the highest capital of the planet
because the recent floods had destroyed the rail links.
Tap water was missing on the Alto, the popular district situated on the heights of La Paz.
Quite a few movements of protest claimed access to water for all: "El agua corriente:
un derecho por todos!" Finding a way around the demonstrations, we reached
the steep streets of the city center, its casas de narcos, its fake policemen,
its true pickpockets and its
never ending noisy buzz which mixed all kinds of horns and sirens.
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Nevertheless, this city seemed to us very charming. The fate of Che Guevara and the political scandals had shaped
its history. The young generation tried to finance its school fees by exercizing,
furtively, shoeshine boys’ activity. The impressive black cowls they wore allowed them not to be identified.
As for the itinerant merchants who worked 14 hours a day, they were waiting while knitting the wool of sheep or alpaca.
They were falling asleep of exhaustion on their stands, strangely displaying stinging nettles, dandelions and fœtus of dried lamas.
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Tarija: Kohlberg, La Concepción, Aranjuez, Campos de Solana.
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bolivia
chico and his lama on Titicaca lake
flamingos of laguna blanca
salt hotel in the Salar of Uyuni
out of school in San Cristobal
Culpina village on the Altiplano
bottling of singani at Casa Real
