I’ve arrived in my last stop of the trip, the colonial “white city” of Sucre.
Sucre is Bolivia’s constitutional capital. It’s a small, attractive city, relaxed and easygoing compared to La Paz’s hustle and bustle. It’s also at a mere 2800m of altitude, which is lower than I’ve been in weeks. I feel great here, like I can breathe easier again. Imagine how good sea level will feel once I get home to Montreal.
We arrived here just after noon, after an uneventful three-hour bus ride from Potosi. During that time, we descended from the mountains into the valley, and the landscape gradually changed from brown to green. We checked into our hotel, conveniently located about a block from the central plaza. And we headed out to get some lunch and explore.
The sweetest city
Despite its name, Sucre has nothing to do with sugar. it was named after Jose Antonio de Sucre, one of Bolivia’s revolutionary heroes. (Actually, Sucre is one of the city’s four names. The Spanish founded the city nearly 500 years ago — you hear that, Denis Coderre? — and referred to it as La Plata, since it existed as a trading and administrative centre for the silver that they were mining in nearby Potosi. It’s also been known as Charcas, which was the indigenous name for the settlement, and as Chuquisaca, a Spanish *******ized pronunciation of the largest settlement from the original inhabitants. But Sucre is its main name.)
But, there are some coincidental tie-ins to sugar; Sucre is known as, among other things, Bolivia’s chocolate capital. How perfect is that? Not to mention its reputation for craft beers, cafes and restaurants. I think I’m going to like it here.
I headed to a vegetarian cafe about a block from the hotel for lunch. There, I got a yummy falafel sandwich, a pineapple lassi, and tons of info from the tour agency run out of the nonprofit cafe. They were running a city walking tour in the afternoon, so after a brief stop for ice cream on the main square, I grabbed my hat and water and headed back there to join it.
Exploring Sucre
Walking tours generally provide a great overview of a new city or place, and this one was no exception. It must have been a quiet day today, because I was the only one there, so I got a private tour all to myself. The guide, Manuel, was a local Sucre guy with a lot of background info on the city’s history, architecture and culture, but was also happy to chat about politics, travel, and city life.
Over the course of the next three hours, Manuel took me around the historical centre, through the main plaza, a handicraft and textile museum, the San Francisco church and convent, the Supreme Court, the theatre where I got to walk up on stage, a bunch of city parks, and some other places that I forgot. I saw the Little Eiffel Tower, a tiny two-story not-quite-replica in Simon Bolivar Park that was actually designed by Gustav Eiffel. I saw the university courtyard whose image is used on the 100-Boliviano note. Manuel even took me to one of Sucre’s leading chocolate shops.
At one point, we were meant to visit the Central Market, but it wasn’t operating today. So instead, we hopped on one of the local minibuses that makes up the public transportation for Sucre, and went to the bigger Campesino Market. This chaotic, haphazard market stretches for over fifteen city blocks, and you can buy anything and everything there — old clothes, bootlegged DVDs, shoes, handbags, electronics, fruits and vegetables, used kitchenware — if someone has something to sell, that’s where they are. The minibus ride back at rush hour was fun, too, since it felt like being a local, hanging onto the metal bar packed into the crowded bus with everyone commuting around the city.
Then, we headed up to Recoleta, Sucre’s oldest neighbourhood, with narrow cobblestoned streets and lovely iron gates. The streets in that part of town were all named for cats, so they were all something-gato. Manuel took us into what looked like a private home, but actually was a small chicha bar run out of someone’s ground floor and driveway. The chicherias are Bolivia’s answer to speakeasies, serving up the local corn-based beer to the mostly older clientele. We sipped a bit of chicha and Manuel dragged out a metal board for a game called Sapo, which was sort of a cross between beer pong and skiball, only with a frog. We each won a round and then went best-of-three, where Manuel beat me soundly. But before he could brag too much, the older lady running the chicheria stepped up to the line and proceeded to completely thrash his score. Ouch.
We ended the walking tour up at Recoleta Plaza and lookout, just as the sun was setting. It offered a spectacular view over the city with the sky in hues of pink and orange. Not a bad view at all.
The not-quite-Bolivian Joyride
After heading back down to the historical centre and bidding Manuel goodbye, I made my way back to the hotel for a short rest. Then, I met back up with the group for dinner. We went to the infamous-among-backpackers Joyride Cafe, which was about as inauthentically Bolivian as is possible to get. They had a menu full of international dishes that were all mediocre but acceptable.
Between the balloons on the chairs (arranged by Sam since it was Ellen’s birthday), the reggae covers of pop songs, the two-for-one drink specials, the old Hollywood posters on the walls, and the Photoshopped images of Evo Morales, Pope Francis, and Donald Trump all holding bar t-shirts on the printed menus, it was all a little strange, but good fun nonetheless.
I’ve only been here for half a day, but I’m quite liking Sucre so far. It’s the kind of town that’s right up my alley, and I’m glad I get to wind down my trip by hanging out here for a couple of days.