One Namibian Apfelstrudel please!

I noticed the first signs right when we landed in Namibia. After picking up our fancy 4×4 camper, which would end up causing us quite some trouble, we headed straight to our accomodation. With a written description and map it was easy to find – and a lot of streetnames immediately sounded familiar. Amongst others we drove past Burgstrasse and Bergstrasse  until we reached our destination. Pension Moni was located in the Feldstrasse.

View from my couchsurfers flat in Schützenstrasse, Windhoek

One of our first missions was to get groceries for our big road trip, so we headed to the Spar supermarket. And to spare you a lenghty description of what it looked like – it could have well been any Spar in Germany. Wholegrain bread, Harribo sweets and pickled ghurkins filled the shelves. Of course there were products we’d never heard of, like Biltong – a dry meat snack popular with Namibians, but on the whole this could have been any supermarket in Germany. I wondered if this was caused by the masses of German tourists demanding to buy their favourite German beer and Bratwurst while on holidays, but I soon realised it was not. Some of the cheapest, most standard products were imported from Germany and to our shock the cheapest butter was produced in Oldenburg, a mere 100km from my hometown Osnabrück.

If you ignore the palmtree this picture could have well been taken in Germany

Of course Namibia was a German colony from 1884 to 1915, so I expected some traces like colonial buildings, but I certainly didn’t expect our black guide at the very first game drive to be called Gert. Nor did I expect to find Apfelstrudel and Bratwurst (exactly wrtitten in this way) on nearly every menu. A lot of Namibians speak German surprisingly well and to my horror I had to discover that Namibia surpasses Germany by far when it comes to rules. And they love to put them on huge signs too, which can be found anywhere.

A colonial German castle in the desert

In Swakopmund, which is famous for being extra German, it was forbidden to swim, walk dogs, inlineskate, cycle, listen to music, light fires, drink alcohol, smoke a water pipe or have a bootparty (whatever that may be) by the beach. At least loitering, which seems to be forbidden everywhere from malls to public places and supermarket car parks was not on the list. So I guess silently chilling at the beach is fine in Namibias most popular beach town.

Just a few rules for the pool…

I have to admit that there are also other cultural influences and that the German street and village names such as Warmquelle are getting changed step by step, but it is still no wonder German tourists love Namibia so much. Because where else can you get a “taste of Africa”, as the brochures like to put it, without having to leave your comfort zone or parting with German chocolate. And although it is a little weird for me to constantly be surrounded by Germanness, there is defnitely an upside to the whole thing: good German bread!

Not everything is German: Manchester United bar in a tiny village we were passing through

Bolivian Street Art

If you think about Bolivia, street art is probably not the first thing that comes to your mind. However, in my two months here I have come a cross some works I really liked and as they don’t really fit my other posts I have decided to give them their own space. Unfortunately I missed the “bike art tour” in Cochabamba, but if you ever come to this vibrant city full of colourful graffiti I really recommend discovering its art (be it on a bycicle or by foot).

Mystic andenean symbols near the witches market  (La Paz)

Coca leaves impact culture, art and everyday life (Cochabamba)

Colourful mexican influences (Cochabamba)

A space lama (Cochabamba)

Don’t forget that the strengh of Bolivia are its women (Uyuni)

Faded sticker art of a traditionally dressed bolivian woman (Potosi)

Hooded person – a shoe cleaner? (La Paz)

Monster and yet another Cholita (La Paz)

Yes or No? Referendum day

The 21st of February was a special day. Not because Nowhere tickets went on sale (although that felt at least equally important to me), but because there was a big referendum in Bolivia. Since crossing the border I had noticed the signs everywhere: “Si Evo”, “No a la re-re-eleción” or “La Paz dice si” – but mostly just si or no painted on houses or rocks in the most random places. It took me a couple of days to find out what all the yes and nos were about. Evo Morales, first indigenous president of Southamerica and initially elected in 2005 was trying to change the constitution in order to possibly serve yet another term. While I was told that the Biolivian constitution only allows two terms per president, the former coca farmer is already serving his third term as he reformed the constitution in his first term.

Even “no parking” turned political

In many other countries a decision like this might go unnoticed by travellers. Not so in Bolivia! The referendum was widely discussed and hypothesized about in the hostels for one main reason: road blocks! Shortly before I entered the country truck drivers had gone on strike and weeks before the coca farmers, both resulting in long lasting blockades. Many backpackers got stuck and some brave gringos even crossed the blockades by foot, passing barriers and burning tires with their luggage. With this important political decision shurely things were going to be worse. Most people I met tried to make stretegical decisions about where to go before the 21st as busses would not be running on the day itself. Not few even left the country. I can’t deny that I was slightly worried too, but because of the El Choro trek Emma and me only managed to get to La Paz before the big day. I figured that it didn’t matter where I went from La Paz first, so I would just go whereever there were no blockades.

Children playing on top of a yes sign

When we arrived in Coroico after our big hike there were already first signs of the referendum: no beer! Apparently Bolivia has a strict no alcohol policy starting three days before any elections which hit us hard. Then on the 20th we were lucky to catch one of the last busses running at midday. In the evening we made plans for the next day – thinking that surely tourist shops and restaurants were going to be open. Luckily our favourite juice lady in the market hall informed us that there would be no fruit salads or papaya juices from any of the market stalls the next day, so we already knew that having a cheap fancy breakfast would be tricky. Still we were not prepared for what would await us the next morning. Not only were all shops closed and had 95% of the street vendors not turned up to work – the city appeared as if its inhabitance had vanished over night. The streets were empty.

Where is everyone?

No cars anywhere – even on the main roads that would take at least five minutes to cross on a normal day. On the way to our favourite coffeshop “Tia Gladys” Emma and me didn’t see more than a handfull of pedestrians. Gladly “Tia Gladys” was one of the few restaurants still open so we had an extensive breakfast and met Sarah, an in-your-face direct French very good at asking interesting questions. We actually got talking when she asked (almost demanded) to use Emmas phone and I ended up travelling with her for 10 eventfull days. She joined us and together we wandered the quiet city, walking in the middle of the highways and crossing empty traffic bridges.

Welcome to the ghost town of La Paz

We headed to the hip part of town to check it out but it didn’t impress us much with its coffe chains and soulless expensive restaurants. Finally we saw some people when passing a school that served as a polling station. As you are obliged to vote in Bolivia (not voting will result in being unable to deal with any state department in the next few months) there were quite a lot of people around the place and queueing up. However with street vendors and stalls selling cotton candy, popcoprn and ice cream the whole atmosphere seemed more like a street fair than a referendum.

Our day basically consisted of walking and eating so I’ll spare you the details, but with only a few kids riding their bikes and playing on the streets it is safe to say that La Paz seemed as far away from blockades and riots as possible. In the evening we found an illegal vbar that served us alcohol and we met some people from the wild rover party hostel. With no free shots, an alcohiol selection reduced to beer and wiskey and the strict rule not to leave the hostel while drunk they said it felt like prohibition times to them. The next morning though the ban was lifted, busses were running again and the streets turned back ihnto their usual crowded crazyness. I guess this is a good lection about Bolivia: it surprises you. Things never go as expected – but that would be boring anyway, right?

By the way – it turned out 52% of Bolivians said no, so Evo Morales won’t be running again after all.

La Paz – a VICE reporters dream

I really didn’t think I would like this city and wanted to get out before I had even arrived. After all I had heared so much bad stuff: about the chaos, muggings and dangerous taxis, about the dirt, the roughness and lack of attractions. If it wasn’t necessary to pass through La Paz on the way to many of Bolivias attractions I might have skipped it altogether – and missed out on so much!

La Paz and its stunning scenery

The last couple of days have been crazy and full of contrasts, just like this huge city surrounded by snow-covered mountains. While in Lima I sometimes felt like I was the only tourist in town, La Paz is full of gringos and many of them have one main goal: to party! No wonder there is a whole bunch of insane party hostels. On my first night I almost ended up at the ‘Wild Rover’ – the most notorious of many which was later described to me as a never ending frat party including a seven minutes in heaven room and shots which are directly poured into the mouths of party-hungry backpackers. Luckily I was instantly put off by the high prices and drinking gringos blocking the corridor to the reception. A lot of people get sucked into the neverending party and manage to spend several days in the city without ever leaving the hostel. This is a shame, because if you give La Paz a chance it can be an amazing and surreal experience.

Party is defnitely a part of what makes the city, from its not-so-secret cocain bars to English pubs looking for gringos to serve strong beer and free shots, but it is by no means the end to its crazyness. Roaming the streets with its many markets where you can buy just about anything from car parts to lama fetusses is amazing and the mixture of typical bolivian cornershops and clutterd stores next to lovingly decorated mexican restaurants and cafes in bookshops that actually sell real coffe can be surreal. Emma, a chilled New Yorker and my new trekking buddy  is shure that La Paz will become the next trendy city in a couple of years. At the moment though it is a werird mixture of people, places and attractions. Being suspended from a curch tower wearing a spiderman or hotdog costume is only one of the weird ideas Bolivians have come up with (and no I did not try this myself).

Cholita Wrestling – and how did you spend valentines day?

In which other city would you spend a sunday afternoon at the ‘Cholita Wrestling’ watching traditionally dressed bolivian ladies in bowler hats and layers of colourfull skirts beat up bad guys? It was incredible how entertaining the badly acted fights were and the audience went crazy while foam was sprayed, men in pink tiger underwear were thrown through the ring and kisses were forced on each male tourist in the audience. Needless to say that the lovely cholitas won each fight.

Another random encounter in the streets of La Paz – loved the matching outfit

But even when you don’t spend money on crazy events the city holds a lot of surprises. Today I discovered a street were people sat with their old typewriters offering some kind of inexplicable typing service. To my german eyes it almost looked like performance art. I am curious what else this city holds in store and though I am excited to leave for a three day trek tomorrow I already look forward to discover more quirks and weird places once I get back…

A beginners guide to peruvian busses

Screaming, waving, jumping and squeezing in – if there is one thing I have become good at since my arrival in Lima it is riding a bus. As a European one might think that this is not a thing you have to learn, but let me assure you that it is. In my first week in Peru I have taken 17 (!) different Busses, all while successfully avoiding taxis and ‘Cruz del Sur’, the luxurious but expensive long distance bus company popular with tourists. How this worked out for me? Surprisingly well. And though I have by no means figured out the whole system yet (if there is one) let me pass on what I have learned so far…

To understand how peruvian busses work it is important to know that there are roughly four kinds: micros, collectivos, city and long distance busses. The latter are easiest because once you have found the right bus terminal (there is one for each company) they even have a timetable which might be followed. City busses however are on a whole different scale, especially in Lima.

Imagine standing in a crowded pavement where you have been told your bus stops. There is probably some trash on the dusty pavement and most defnitely no shade. Next to you a Street vendor is selling avocados out of an old shopping cart while reggaeton is blasting from some old car or radio. Honking busses and cars are passing you by constantly, treating the different lanes as if they were mere suggestions. In this chaos some busses approaching the bus stop (and I am using this term loosely) reduce their speed while the drivers assistant keeps screaming the name of its final destination at passers by. And this is where you come in: quickly you try to spot the right bus in the sea of traffic, searching for a tiny number somewhere on the colourful bus as it is almost impossible to figure out what is shouted at you with all the noise going on. If you think you have spotted the right one: congratolatuins! now it is your turn to scream your destination and hurry towards the bus, because surely it will only stop for seconds (if at all). Your best bet is therefore to run and jump into the bus, quickly grabbing a seat before the driver speeds off again. Pro tip for tall people: don’t even try to fit into the inner seat and watch your head! From there on your fate is in the hands of the drivens assistant who will collect money from you within the first 2 to 15 minutes of the ride. They will hopefully tell you shortly before you reach your destination so you can prepare to get off just as quick as you got on the bus.

As you can see, reacting fast is key to successfully riding city busses, but another kind of attention is needed for micros and collectivos. These “busses” typically used for lesser travelled routes are a lot smaller. Whenever people tell you to take a taxi – ask again! – because there is usually a micro or collectivo going right to your destination for 1/4 to 1/10 of the price. As they often wait until full there is much less running and screaming involved. But while city busses are easily indentified as such, micros an collectivos are much harder to spot. Even calling them busses streches the definition of the word. Sometimes they are mini-vans, but more often than not just normal cars. And of course if I say normal cars I mean the type of vehicle that would never in a million years pass the german TÜV. My favourite micro that dropped me off in el Carmen even had a broken front window. So the trick is to find the right spot and then look for a crappier looking taxi that isn’t actually one. Luckily I’d say that asking 2-3 people will usually get you to the right bus and to my surprise even taxi drivers will gladly point you in the correct directon. Also, with about four passengers the thrill of getting off at the right spot is much smaller, but most drivers make up for this with increased speed. So if you enjoy a bit of speed and chaos, peruvian busses are defnitely for you. Who needs rollercoasters, right?

Of course I haven’t even arrived in the Andes where roads are smaller and steeper, so I guess there is a lot more to local busses I still have to learn. So be warned, there might be an ‘advanced guide to peruvian busses’ yet to come…

PS: If you are wondering why there are no pictures with this post – think again! My multitasking has its limits.