By Emma. Cliquez ici pour l’article de Damien. Click here for photos of there.

From under the brim of her beribboned and flowered sun bonnet, she stares at me, and yet intently avoids all eye-contact, for the entire three-hour bus journey from Potosí to Sucre. Lightening flashes across the sky and she again swivels around, wrinkled and wary. “I think she’s afraid of you”, Damien whispers beside me. I look up just in time to see the ancient Bolivian lady pretending not to look at me out of the corner of her eye. An attempt at a reassuring smile is met with undisguised horror. Completely thrown off balance I look desperately to Damien…who is busy choking on his laughter! Hmm..


Bolivian girl on bus (I thought brandishing camera at old lady might completely send her into a fear spiral)

Sucre, the constitutional capital of Bolivia, is lovely. Really lovely. Terracotta roofs and pristine white colonial buildings, cobbled streets and marching bands, lush public gardens and the smell of earth, handmade chocolates and beautiful juice merchants, zebra-crossings and zebra hugs, I could while away days and days blissfully doing nothing in particular in Sucre.

I suppose it’s probably bad that the reason we actually went to Sucre was a restaurant. Yup, we are those people. The hungry, foodie kind. In our defense though, the recommendation was golden: “If you go up to Sucre, a nice little city, you MUST go to a restaurant called ‘Nouvelle Cuisine’. Probably the nicest steak I had on the trip. It’s a cheapy plastic chair type restaurant with a couple of fellas BBQing the steak down the back.. Oooh I can nearly smell it again now.. Delish!”. How could we not go??? So we did. The chairs were plastic, there was no real roof and an umbrella propped over the BBQ … and the steak was just amazing!! Thank you, Vinny!!!

Nouvelle Cuisine, Sucre

Nouvelle Cuisine, Sucre

Oh and there are also dinosaurs. Well, dinosaur footprints. Stretching vertically up the side of the plundered mountain of Cal Orko is the world’s largest collection of dinosaur footprints. They wander and wind upwards, ancient and fragile, just beyond the quarry and cement factory trucks which continue to rattle beneath them.

Dinosaur footprints

Dinosaur footprints


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