All I am askin` for is ten gold dollars, and I can pay you back with one good hand

On the second to last day on Potosí, I met a friendly group of Italians, originally from just outside of Milan. They had been hanging out in Buenos Aires for a while and, like me, decided to trek on up north and fly home in December. Micaela, Giulia and Luca were a tight-knit group and I learned later that they were involved in a love triangle. Not the kind where jealousy and back-stabbing avail but a relationship where kindness, caring and love are the central tenets. Let me tell you Luca is a lucky guy. There wasn´t any extra room in the threesome for little old me, but they did accept me as their traveling companion for a few days. We hopped on a bus for Sucre and I was ecstatic to find that the trio was traveling with a guitar in their possession. While the three lovers were engaged in romantic embrace and conversation, I would contentedly find my way out the door to strum the six string.

The majority of Bolívians still consider Sucre to be the capital of the country, although the congressional seat finds itself in La Paz. La Plata as the first Bolívian capital was originally called, and later Charcas, is still home to the Supreme Court and retains the prestigious "constitutional" capital title. After circling the block 3 or 4 times, I finally found what I was looking for and wandered into Museo de Etnografía y Folklore. The collection of about 50 or so traditional masks that Bolívians wear during festivals and holidays was staggering. The purpose for dawning the masks is so get in touch with a specific deity or celebrate a certain aspect of life. For instance, Carnaval is incorporated into today´s modern society to give thanks for an abundant harvest. It´s fascinating to see the effects of el sincretismo, or syncretism, and the overlapping traits of religious customs that were present before the arrival of the Spaniards and those that the Conquistadores imposed upon the "New World´s" population. El Tío, who is originally thought of as the guardian of the mines by the native population was dubiously dubbed the Devil by the invading force, which is why he now sports a pair of horns. His inherent evilness was derived from his dwelling place, sub-terranea. In certain places of Bolívia, citizens even weat the mask of "Lucifer", in Biblical tradition the angel who betrayed God and was expelled from heaven. The indigenous people´s panetheistic beliefs allow for whorship of more than one God. The quote from "National Lampoon´s Chrismas Vacation" is surely appropriate when Ellen´s father invites cousin Eddy and family to stay for the holidays. "Sure, there´s plenty of room". There was also an elaborate dragon head that I would have mentally pictured in a Chinese celebration, many zoomorphic representations such as the sheep, bear and frog, and maks that represent the dual relationship of sun and moon, just to name a few. In the next sala, or rather exposition room, were artifacts and diagrams of a little-known indigenous group that once lived close to what is now known as Sucre. Today, the indigenous population is categorized into 3 main groups: the Aymara, Guaraní, or descendants of the Inca whose Quechua language is still widely utilized. But these three were and still are the most influential of the people that originally inhabited this land. The Spaniards were so good at what they did, that they supported key indigenous groups through political and economic means in order to gain allegiance from the tribes of lesser status as well. The most powerful and influential tribes/groups served as an intermediary for the supplanting of Spanish laws and customs for the many of the ones already in place of pre-Columbian South America. In U.S. schools they (barely) teach about the Aztec, Maya and the Inca but with such an expansive landmass and geographic separation there were innumerable tribes residing in the southwestern continent.

In the most recent census, which was performed in 2001, somewhere along the lines of 87% of the population checked a box next to one of the indigenous groups named in the census, making Bolívia the "most indigeous nation of South America". Even the country´s president, Evo Morales prides himself on pre-Columbian values and beliefs. He is the first non-mestizo to hold the Bolívian presidential office in history. He has acquired such strong support from the pueblo, that the governing bodies made an amendment to the constitution in January of 2009 to allow him to maintain his position for a second term. There´s even talk of permitting him a third term which would extend until 2020. His widespread support is evident just from riding a bus through the countryside. Signs declare unity under Evo´s rule in pueblitos and ciudades grandes alike. Another census is set for next year in 2011 and it will be fascinating to see how the country´s population racially identifies when, contrary to the vast majority of places in the world, having indigenous roots is viewed as a positive.

Due to Sucre´s colonial history as the capital city, the infrastructure around the central plaza is impressive. There seems to be much commerce and people behave as if there is a pressing task at hand. A number of poeple have asked me about the pace of life in the U.S. In court it would be undoubtedly be considered as "leading the witness", with the most common inquiry, "la vida en las Estados Unidos es bastante agitada?" Agitada´s English translation literally being that of "agitated", but can also mean "rushed" or "hurried". The nature of stereotypes is strange. We think that they´re all lazy and they think that we are too busy, which is probably just not the case.

I parted ways with the Italian lovers; they headed for Cochabamba and I sought out the city of Santa Cruz, which also happens to be the furthest Eastern location I will be able to frequent on this journey. The bumpiest bus ride I´ve ever had left Sucre at 3:00 PM and rolled into Santa Cruz at just before 8:00 AM the next morning. I thought the bus was going to tip over on more than one occasion and a couple of hours into the trip, I began to feel a "crink" in my neck. I finished a book, "The Devil in the White City" and also had to keep pushing the older gentleman seated to my right back into his seat after he had fallen asleep. I had the grand opportunity to sit in the middle in the very back of the bus, like I said it was a bit rough going on the dirt roads. I awoke before the sunrise and lush mountains extended high into the air in all directions. Undergoing this welcome climatic change, a readout on a television said that it was 32 degrees Celcius (about 90 degrees Fahrenheit) in Santa Cruz proper. I know, Western Washington has spoiled me with its uber-moderate climate, but man it felt hot.