Five Things I Saw on My Bicycle Ride

Once again I’d like to write not about the politics of Bolivia, but just about Bolivia, a place of humble joys. This morning, as I try to do as many Sundays as possible, I set out on an early morning bike ride across Cochabamba. Others go to church, I like to meditate on two wheels watching Bolivia go by. Sunday mornings are a wonderful time to get a glimpse of a city’s life. Here are five things I saw.

Puppies on Parade: On Sunday mornings Cochabamba animal seekers and sellers gather outside our football (that would be soccer) stadium to buy and sell puppies. Dalmatians, German Shepards, Cocker Spaniels, and other assorted breeds. It is a two year old’s dream come true, which I know first hand from the time I took our own Mariana there for a petting frenzy. We have two dogs, neither of which came from the Sunday morning pet fair. Simone the Wonder Dog walked in the door from the street as a puppy the first week we lived here six years ago, a classic Cochabamba mix that can't quite be identified. Cochabamba dogs are like snowflakes -- no two alike. Little Bear is Simone’s love child.

The Salteña Carts: Bolivians are like Hobbits, they have “second breakfasts” at around 10am and the favorite mid-morning delicacy is salteñas, a dumpling of crunchy crust filled with a wickedly tasty meat stew. Women in white straw hats roam the streets in the morning pushing their salteña carts, square glass cases on wheels with the hot treats resting inside.

Cotton Candy Sellers: Sunday is the one day of the week that a good portion of Cochabamba gets to actually spend the day with their families. On Sunday mornings women in my neighborhood set out early down the long hill toward town with huge, six-foot-tall at least, stacks of cotton candy to sell to people enjoying their day off. Bright pink, luminescent green, starry white. Nothing could draw a child’s attention more.

Water Balloons: This is Carnival weekend and to step outside your door is to become a target. Every child over age one seems armed with water balloons. Even Mariana insists on carrying her precious green “blooon” around the house. That’s one reason I left early. A gringo on a bike is a dousing waiting to happen. I dodged most of them pretty well.

The Rickety Tin Pedal Carts: In Plaza Colon, one of my favorite spots in the city, was filled with families happily passing their Sunday morning together. Most weeks someone sets up a little business renting rickety tin four-wheel bikes. These are the kind of contraptions that would seem junkyard bound in the US. Here it is recreation. Two girls, probably twelve years old or so, were giggling as they rode in circles side by side around the plaza. In the US I think such a thing would be considered geeky, or at least not nearly cool enough for a teenager to get near it.

It is one of the things that is so glorious about Bolivia. Even simple things – a cheap tin pedal cart, a small meat dumpling, a water balloon, petting a puppy, a bright pink cotton candy – just these on a Sunday morning are a source of joy and appreciation here.