This post is born thanks to two police officers who told me to sit and wait while they caught a ride for me in one little Bolivian town called San Antonio (45 kilometres east from La Paz). It never happened, though. While I was sitting and writing, the guys disappeared somewhere so I stood up and in a few moments caught a ride myself. I wonder what happened to them, perhaps later they came back and asked themselves the same question about me - I would not know. Still I am grateful to the fellows for “making me sit down" and reflect upon the things that happened.
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with money from all over the world
to give away as a present
March 4, 2010
The bus from Ayacucho took me to one busy Cusco bus station. I looked around feeling lost and tired – what now? Saw two backpackers and upon approaching them heard Japanese. Good sign, I thought and decided for that young Japanese couple to be my guides for the time. Hidoyuki-san(29) with his friend Yuki-san (26) were on their way to a youth hostel which quite affordably cost only 8 soles (Peruvian currency where 1 US $ is 2,85 soles) for a bed in the dorm. On our way to the hostel I learned that my new friends had once already visited Cusco, so the town was not new to them.
After all had settled into their new living spaces, we went out to eat. My last meal had been more than 24 hours ago – I was hungry. 5 soles for a two course, not the cheapest meal in the country, yet according to Yuki-san the cheapest in the area. Later as we were already back in the hostel drinking coca-leaf tea, I proposed we would cook our own food next time. That was not without self interest – Japanese food remained one of my favourites.
As a Japanese custom we exchanged business cards. Both of ours had “Around the World” on them as a title.
“So how long are you on the road?” I asked.
“Eight months.”
“How about you?”
“Two years and eight months,” I answered.
“Do you work and travel?” asked Yuki-san.
“Just volunteer.”
“How do you support yourself then?” was Yuki-san surprised.
“I hitchhike...”
Hidoyuki-san told me that it was easy to travel around the world only speaking Japanese language: you just go to the ticket office, tell them were you want to go and buy the ticket; meet many Japanese people along the way and make friends. It is quite common for Japanese people to journey around the world, continued Yuki-san, prices in most of the countries are cheap compared to Japan thus many can afford the trip.
Our journeys, although had the same title, were in the heart quite different. On my trip I rarely met other travellers, most of the time I travelled with the people of the country, depending on their kindness and good-will. It was also through them that I learned the language. The more time I spent in one language space, the better I spoke. Yet all of it thanks to my teachers – each person I met on my way. Although I always had a little money with me, most of the time it remained unspent. I received all what I needed before I had the temptation to buy anything.
“What were your favourite countries?” I asked the two.
“Peru and Bolivia – these were fun and also the cheapest,” said the girl.
“How about you, which did you like most?” she returned the question.
“Japan.”
“Japan?! But Japan is so expensive…,” were both surprised.
“Strangely so I barely spent any money there, rather I received times more than I spent,” I said.
“How?”
“I hitchhiked…”
I also admitted that I tend to spend much more money in cheap countries than in those that are expensive – I just could not afford to buy anything there.
March 5
Next day I let my guides take me to several markets: first there was the handicraft market where I learned that most items there were much cheaper than the meal we had had the previous night. My Japanese friends were jewellery makers and had returned to Cusco to buy precious stones which they told me were here just third of the price compared to the coast.
I also could not resist the temptation and following the lead got me a bunch of pretty gems with the idea that I could always give them away as presents to the many good-givers I meet on my way. Yuki-san´s jewellery class followed shortly after our visit to the food-market.
It was my day of “being a tourist.”
In my heart I thanked the rain for Machu-Pichu being closed, there it would have been difficult to keep up with the pace of spending the money.
March 6
I left Cusco the following day, and after saying good-bye to my friends travelled on a mini-bus out of town, then one kind family took me some 45 kilometres further, giving me a lot of bread for a present and after this with one truck-driver Jose I journeyed until the night caught me in one place called Ayaviri.
The restaurant we were eating in had a small yard in front of it.
“Could I put up my tent here, I only have 2 soles and would not be able to afford a night in the hotel?” I asked the owner of the place.
She hesitated, went then to ask her husband and then said that it would be fine.
When I was already unpacking my stuff, she approached me again and said that it was too cold to sleep outside, took me then to a room with two beds – a hotel was apparently a part of their family-business, and said I could sleep there.
I said that I would not be able to pay her, but that did not seem to bother her.
March 7
In the morning the kind lady chose for herself a Japanese coin as a small gratitude from my little metal box and I continued the journey.
That day I crossed the Peru-Bolivia border, met a bunch of wonderful people along the way and the night caught me in the capital of Bolivia – La Paz.
“Please, I cannot walk any more, may I put up my tent here?” I asked one young girl in a gas station. Another gas station had refused me, and I had walked by the side of the dusty road for what seemed forever looking for another one.
I had to wait for an answer for a while sitting on my pack asking the customers if they were going out of town and could perhaps take me, but then the answer finally came - Yes! I could camp in the gas-station.
March 8
I woke up with the sunrise, thanked the gas-station people and hit the road.
I have heard Bolivia is one of the cheapest countries in South America, but I felt poorest of the poor – I had no money whatsoever.
Hitchhiking in one hopeless spot – too much traffic in several lanes, high speed, many taxis, even more mini-buses, I meditated on the thought how convenient money was: you buy the ticket to desired destination, sit worriless in a seat without an obligation to listen or talk to anyone, you can even sleep if you want, and then arrive to where you wanted to get.
While I was hitchhiking several taxis pulled over.
“I cannot go with you, I would say, I have no money to pay you, my journey depends only on people´s kindness.
One taxi driver after having passed me several times pulled over and handed me 2 bolivianos (Bolivian currency where 1 US $ is 7 bolivianos): “With this you can get a mini-bus out of town,” the kind man said.
One bus took me then to the town border for half of the money and for the other half I caught another ride. “Where to?” asked the ticket-lady. “Anywhere you are going on that road,” I answered.
A woman, I guessed her to be a police-officer judging by the uniform she was wearing, who sat beside me asked:
“So where are you going to?”
“Wherever this car takes me, eventually to Argentina,” I answered.
“How do you travel?” she continued.
“One taxi driver gave me two bolivianos, with this money I am getting out of town, then I will continue hitchhiking.”
Upon hearing this the lady put two coins in my hand, which I could not refuse, so thanking her I opened my little metal box from where she chose a Venezuelan 5 cent as a souvenir for herself.
The mini-bus took me 45 kilometres out of town to a village called San Antonio and asked 3 bolivianos for the ride – exact amount which I had "collected".
I thought hitchhiking would get easier in the rural area. I was wrong. I think I spent altogether six hours in that place – dried my tent, played flute, hitchhiked, took a nap in the grass, ate pumpkin seeds – my last food, chewed coca leaves and then met two police-men who just like me had arrived by another mini-bus.
They told me to sit and wait while they caught a ride for me and then invited me to drink some coca-cola with them.
ON COCA COLA...
For many years I refused to drink coca-cola. I remember once in Japan a kind lady gave me a bottle to take along and when she left I poured it all out. To me coca-cola and poison were synonyms. Now I regret to have acted so ungratefully.
When I lived in Venezuela in the house of Mother Theresa one nun, sister Franka, explained it to me.
I would always eat in the kitchen with the other workers, but sometimes the head sister Jasna invited me to have a meal in the sisters´ house. It would still be separate from the group, yet it was always a privilege to be invited.
On one of these occasions sister Franca bringing me a tray with breakfast on it whispered:
“You have already eaten, haven´t you?”
“Yes, I have,” I whispered back.
“Well, this is love then,” she said with a cunning smile.
What I believe now is that when receiving then it is much more than receiving the chemical substance of the product, but a gesture of kindness and care. (Drugs, cigarettes and alcohol I would still refuse to receive, but these things are not the main necessities as thirst and hunger would be, so I hope the givers understand and forgive me). On the road you do not even have a say how you want your eggs in the morning, you are just happy with the fact that they are there. Sometimes lunch comes two times a day, sometimes it never comes, yet when it does no matter if you are hungry or not, you feel happy. Kindness happened!
So the police officers invited me to share a bottle of coca-cola with them and we talked about it.
“You know,” I said, “it is worth waiting for. Even if it means standing for hours in one place, even if it means being hungry and having just coca leaves for lunch. The gesture in itself is so beautiful that when it happens it makes up for everything. I am glad I am the one to witness it and even more so to be the receiver of it.
When everyone has what they need, they see the world cold and heartless. Rightfully so – they do not need anyone to give them anything. When one buys a service there is no kindness involved.”
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Putting myself in the position of the needy is a conscious decision, because to tell the truth, I have money. Well, not the Bolivian boliviano for the moment, but a bunch of dollars I could change and with them feel quite different.
In my weakness I see myself doing it, changing some 10 dollars to bolivianos, feeling independent, taking a decision where to go, what to buy, what to eat, where to sleep, taking a little break from the road. It would definitely be a less interesting way to pass the time, yet when the road would tempt me with one cash exchange point I know I will fall for it.
But then again having that cash with me probably would not change too much – I like the freestyle life much more than the one I described above. I would end up putting the coins in my little metal box to show the children in other countries: “Look, and this one here is Bolivian money,” and they would have it as a useless item to play with and to remember me by. At least this is what usually happens with the money I have.
I love my road, kind as it is, so even if I have some money I rarely use it. I choose not to.
ON RECEIVING v/s BUYING...
I remember once in a little Colombian village I was walking down the street feeling hungry. There were all kinds of tempting smells coming from one and the other food-place, yet I realized soon that I did not want that food. What I wanted was for someone to feed me.Why then would I want to change these 10 dollars I come to question myself and thinking about it I come up with the reason: being hungry when you have food in your pack is easier than being hungry when you do not have food.
I started hitchhiking. People would pass me, look back, point at me saying something to each-other, but no one would approach me. Until finally one young fellow came to ask where I came from and where I was going. At that point all the children that were nearby came to listen, and with them their parents. Everyone had questions.
Someone brought a chair. People were in a crowd trying to hear the stories.
“Why?” one fellow asked, “why do you do this?”
“Do you know what thirst feels like?” I replied.
“I do.”
“This is what my desire to travel the world feels like while the road is like water to quench my thirst.”
At that moment a lady came and handed me a glass of fresh juice.
“Drink,” she said, “you have thirst. And now I shall prepare you lunch for you also must be hungry.”
And that was exactly what she did.
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ON CHOICE…
Once when I walked the Salt Road in Japan, I would eat only twice a day – that was my choice. I thought that there would be no one giving me food in the mountains (I was wrong), so I would eat my breakfast, as I needed energy for the day, then lunch for I would be tired of walking and still in need of energy to continue. At night I would make a fire and cook some oat-meal which would smell so well and look so appetizing after all that walking. Yet I would not eat it. I would convince my body that it would get its energy from sleep and that I rather needed that food in the morning. My body would finally agree with the argument and I would go to sleep hungry. Yet I remember it was not too difficult – I had a choice.So I guess with money it is the same. Of course when I will have my bolivianos, I will not be able to say: “hey, I do not have any money…”, yet I would still ask for a free ride even from a taxi driver. Because kindness is beautiful and I like seeing it happen.
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March 10
I am now in the eastern part of Bolivia in a town called Santa Cruz, volunteering for one organization called “Ama Bolivia.” I will stay, I have a “bill” to pay: a lot of good will and kindness to give back to the humanity. It is a need rather than an obligation and I want to do it. Still to me staying is more expensive than travelling. I spent 1,50 bolivianos on an in-town bus today, travelling from the old peoples´ home that I work in. I will try to understand the way and walk the next time. I have not had a chance to exchange the 10 dollars yet, but for the moment I am fine. The road, as always, has been kind and all the drivers I travelled with at the end of the ride emptied their pockets from coins. I have been travelling with a “plus-budget” and my zero became 14,5 bolivianos by reaching my temporary stop-point here in Santa Cruz.
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