August 14, 2016
A Postcard: Still in Sucre
It's a long time since I wrote a postcard. What would I write? Would this do?
"Hello. I'm now in Bolivia. The weather's fine."
It's another day and I've put off leaving until tomorrow. There are new people checked in and over a drink, we collectively ask the German hostel owner his story.
He came to Sucre as a backpacker nine years ago and fell in love with a local girl. He hasn't left the city since, having developed a successful hostel and restaurant business. Has no desire to move on north, the way he was headed back then. Say's he couldn't care less about seeing Peru.
The city of Sucre is alluring what with it's attractive white colonial architecture. So I can well see how someone from Europe could settle here. But the mountainous countryside outside the city is harsh, not being the type of landscape which endears, being about three-thousand metres above sea-level and single tone ochre hued without vegetation, so very different to Europe.
Earlier I got talking to Ester from Southampton, England. Her parents though originate from Cheltenham, known most for it's horseracing coarse, situated right on the Welsh border. I related to Ester having cycled through Cheltenham a couple of years ago and having continued along the Lea valley into Bristol, then on to Bath. And, in a day's ride, from Bath to Stonehenge, something she found hard to believe, saying it is a four hour car drive. However she agrees that the gentle low undulating countryside in this region is stunningly beautiful in comparison to the barren thin air high mountaintops of the Andes.
I still haven't a clue what I should write in the postcards I bough, so I'll put off writing them for a while.
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