Named after their 5 year old (as of Monday) daughter, Cristobal and Sol´s Ginger´s Paradise is only two and half a half hours away from Bolivia´s most populated city Santa Cruz, but a world away in terms of lifestyle.
The adventure began a week Saturday ago when I caught a taxi ride from the sprawling Santa Cruz to the hanging bridge, two kilometres south of any civilisation. Here, I found the entrance to Ginger´s Paradise, aptly set beyond something straight out of Indiana Jones.
The setup goes something a little like this...
Cristobal runs the show. He came to South America over a decade ago as a snake trafficker and never looked back. The one time acclaimed musician eventually met his wife-to-be, Sol, through their passion for the arts and this in turn eventually produced Nova, Dizzy and Ginger. If it´s efficiency, hard work, ingenuity and alternative living your after, look no further. They´ve built two homes; one for themselves and one for the travellers. Each one is decked out with fancy mosaics, crockery in the walls and not a trace of technology in sight. With no TVs, computers, telephones, baths, fridges or freezers, and set amongst nearly thirty hectares of the most fruitful land, this family really are going out of their way to live the simple life. Simple, but not easy.
I started what felt like a bit of a social experiment by helping out with preparing dinner which involved fresh corn and rice. At this point, my take on ´paradise´was somewhat blurred as I found out they only made breakfast and lunch and that an evening meal would turn out to be nothing but a distant memory. With this eating away at me, I took no prisoners and rattled down as much as I could. With a period of ´free time´out of the way, my day was concluded with a couple of hours of hauling firewood in a wheelbarrow. As darkness fell, I fell prey to Cristobal´s chess talents as he made a mockery of my intelligence AND won a chocolate bar in the process.
Sunday began with a buffet of pancakes and homemade (as everything is) cane syrup. Again, with my illness and lack of appetite still fresh in the memory, I made sure nobody consumed anything remotely on a par with me and within twenty minutes my stomach was screaming for me to stop.
In keeping with my jubilant mood, I soon found out after rinsing the dishes that Sunday was a day of rest and instead the plan was not labour but a trek to a nearby waterfall with fellow volunteers Evan and Mariana. This should have taken an hour but in the end I had a five hour trek to my name, numerous ant bites, cuts to my legs and the witnessing of something that resembled a waterfall but on a far smaller scale. As it turned out, we got within fifty metres of the aforementioned landmark but I was in no shape to make a second attempt.
The olive-laced lasagne welcomed me home but with no more food on offer for the day, I along with Mariana were forced to throw on some dancing shoes and make the two kilometre trip to find eggs, crisps and bananas. From this, our evening meal stemmed.
Cristobal sent us to sleep inspired when he made a pipe out of papaya stem and a purple flower. A creative chap, he also introduced us to a comb-harmonica, wood-burning ovens, hydro-generators and native beehives during our stay.
The following day I bared witness to the most extensive selection of homemade condements in Bolivia. To tart up my bread I had the choice of honey, peanut butter, ginger jam, fig jam, guava jam, cane sugar syrup and pesto. As for washing all this down, there were some form of herbal teas, guava juice and tropical plum juice.
A good job I made light of things once more, as for the next three and a half hours, my physical capabilities were pushed to the limits, karting more logs and firewood both in the wheelbarrow and in my wretchedly understrength arms.
I made it to the salad-based lunch however and once more my afternoon involved a trip to the village of Bermejo for some further refreshment and a quick phonecall home. Nobody was in.
The sun began to set and with it, I helped plant sunflower and green pea seeds in the one of the many gardens on site and as night fell so did I at chess once more with yet another chocolate bar.
Tuesday was mainly spent in the fields doing plenty of weeding and turning over the soil. This was hardly the most difficult job in the world but I did tear my hands to shreads in the process.
With Cristobal and Sol away for the day on Thursday, it was left to us four (Mariana had a child called Jeremias) to run the show. Predictably breakfast was less flash but after a morning of feeding chickens and gardening, my time eventually came as I whipped up a good few litres of fresh lime juice. The meal that came with this was sufficient but my sense of acheivement tasted far greater. At this point, a pleasant Aussie girl called Ali showed up and added strength and knowledge to the workforce.
A good stint of relaxation down by the river was followed up by trying to look after a stricken horse that had fallen both ill and onto its side. Myself, Evan and Dizzy made it a little shelter for the night but with no form of communication or vets in the vacinity, the future was not bright and it wasn´t orange.
With Thursday came a horses corpse. Sadly, Gala, as he was known, could no longer keep up the fight which meant it was up to us to dig the mother of all graves. After arepas (A Venezuelan dish - Google it and go make it with some spicy tomato sauce and cheese. It beats Rice Crispies.) and yoghurt kicked things off, all the males on site grabbed a tool and began digging away for what seemed an eternity. The numbers dwindled until there was just me, Evan and Cristobal left to flip the stone-like body of a once exuberant stallion.
Unfortunately it didn´t go as smoothly as we liked as the horse ended up with its head out of the grave and half standing up. After giving its legs a good pull and Cristobal unceremoniously jumping on its head, we eventually forced it into the bottom of the grave and then began the task of filling it all back in.
After a potato bake, again a few of us went to hang out by the river before some more shovelling on top of the grave in the late afternoon. All things came to a halt however when Dizzy came running, calling for help. With one guy asking for blankets I grabbed a couple and ran down to the hanging bridge at the river where the drama was unfolding. At first I saw nothing but then down to my right on the rocks by the river was the chilling sight of an upturned jeep which looked to have come off the adjacent road, some forty feet above. Miraculously, a young girl of around eighteen, had just been removed from the vehicle alive and so me and three others began the task of lifting her out and back up to the roadside. We managed it with the aid of a couple of blankets and a good few drops of sweat. Once there, the driver who had somehow managed to remain unscathed, tried valiantly to flag down a jeep to take her to a hospital as with no mobile phones to hand, an ambulance was out of the question. Twenty minutes past and with the girl still unconscious, at last some help arrived. With the mangos, watermelons and oranges rearranged, the two lucky survivors managed to squeeze into the jeep and were soon on their way back to Santa Cruz for some much needed care and attention.
As I understood things, the driver had simply gone into the bend too quick and just overshot it. In the process he also managed to drive through a roadside memorial of a previous casualty and beyond the tyre marks in the earth was a scattering of flowers, ribbon, wood and now unreadable obituaries. Accidents like this are frequent in Bolivia, even without the heavy rain and landslides. For a hundred and fifty dollars, you can pick up a drivers license without any mention of a test and this is fairly evident when you hop in one of the many taxis that tackle the rural routes. Their habits include overtaking round blind bends and past multiple vehicles, beeping at anything that moves, braking too late, wearing no seatbelts and generally not paying enough attention. It´s dangerous but it makes the journey interesting if you manage to survive it.
The last I heard a couple of days ago was that the girl was still unconscious and in some form of coma.
Thursday was full of far less drama as heavy rain put work on hold for the morning. I lost another couple of games of chess before helping prepare some fairly aggresive ginger jam. At noon I had an art class with Sol, as she taught me how to make some snazzy little bracelets, of which I made three. Everyone was mightily impressed by works and I vowed to go into mass production and put Ginger´s Paradise out of business. Time will tell.
Later that day, me and Ali bought some spaghetti and tinned peaches for the evening meal and did a little work in the garden. The peaches went down an absolute treat with some condensed milk, although Cristobal was both confused and mortified to hear of what we´d consumed in a place of such plenty.
We said goodbye to Ali on Saturday morning and then me and Evan had the unenviable task of shifting fifteen huge beams of wood. As the sun shone and the heat bore down, I was by the end of it, a dripping excuse for a man.
Pasta broke up the day and with the temperature still high, it was to the river once more for a dip and some reading. Cristobal then took me and Evan to see his hydro-generator, which along with a couple of solar panels, produces all the electricity for the two houses. Next on his list is a homemade fridge which will run on frozen amonia. In theory. It could also blow up the house.
With Ginger´s fifth birthday party the following day, the early evening was spent shifting earth to make a safer floor and arranging tables and chairs.
Luckliy there was blazing sunshine the next day for our open air fiesta. The early part of the day was spent preparing pizza, plum pudding, cake and fruit juice. By 2pm the numbers had swollen to over fifty and my stomach was rumbling. Like thunder.
Apple slices and biscuits saw me through the one and a half hour clown performance but then I got the green light. The lack of evening meals had boosted my appetite substantially so where most people had two pizza portions, I had eight and where others enjoyed one piece of pumpkin pie, I had ten. By the time it was time to clear things away, I could barely walk. But it felt good.
Finally on Monday, it was time to leave. This wasn´t before I´d presented Ginger with a game of snakes and ladders I´d made and received another pasting from Cristobal at chess. I said my goodbyes and left for one last night in Samaipata; my Bolivian home from home.
Back at La Posada del Sol, Trent, Charlie and Sierra welcomed me back like a forgotten son and in the evening I said another final goodbye to Ben and Suzanne at La Oveja Negra.
Yesterday I caught a taxi back here to the steaming Santa Cruz with a friendly Scottish couple who´d just got engaged at Machu Picchu. The rest of my day was spent making errands, emailing and eating at an Irish pub and Cuban restaurant.
Today I shall trim my beard with my new ´Zinger Classic´ cuticle scissors. When I´m presentable once more, I´ll catch the 8:30PM bus to Cochabamba where I´ll arrive some ten hours later all being well. A day or so after this I´ll be off to Oruro for carnaval and Bolivia´s biggest and best annual party.
After over a week in paradise, I´m ready to just appreciate the freedom of travel, the road ahead and a shedload of food. In fact, I´m starving right now.
Unfortunately it didn´t go as smoothly as we liked as the horse ended up with its head out of the grave and half standing up. After giving its legs a good pull and Cristobal unceremoniously jumping on its head, we eventually forced it into the bottom of the grave and then began the task of filling it all back in.
After a potato bake, again a few of us went to hang out by the river before some more shovelling on top of the grave in the late afternoon. All things came to a halt however when Dizzy came running, calling for help. With one guy asking for blankets I grabbed a couple and ran down to the hanging bridge at the river where the drama was unfolding. At first I saw nothing but then down to my right on the rocks by the river was the chilling sight of an upturned jeep which looked to have come off the adjacent road, some forty feet above. Miraculously, a young girl of around eighteen, had just been removed from the vehicle alive and so me and three others began the task of lifting her out and back up to the roadside. We managed it with the aid of a couple of blankets and a good few drops of sweat. Once there, the driver who had somehow managed to remain unscathed, tried valiantly to flag down a jeep to take her to a hospital as with no mobile phones to hand, an ambulance was out of the question. Twenty minutes past and with the girl still unconscious, at last some help arrived. With the mangos, watermelons and oranges rearranged, the two lucky survivors managed to squeeze into the jeep and were soon on their way back to Santa Cruz for some much needed care and attention.
As I understood things, the driver had simply gone into the bend too quick and just overshot it. In the process he also managed to drive through a roadside memorial of a previous casualty and beyond the tyre marks in the earth was a scattering of flowers, ribbon, wood and now unreadable obituaries. Accidents like this are frequent in Bolivia, even without the heavy rain and landslides. For a hundred and fifty dollars, you can pick up a drivers license without any mention of a test and this is fairly evident when you hop in one of the many taxis that tackle the rural routes. Their habits include overtaking round blind bends and past multiple vehicles, beeping at anything that moves, braking too late, wearing no seatbelts and generally not paying enough attention. It´s dangerous but it makes the journey interesting if you manage to survive it.
The last I heard a couple of days ago was that the girl was still unconscious and in some form of coma.
Thursday was full of far less drama as heavy rain put work on hold for the morning. I lost another couple of games of chess before helping prepare some fairly aggresive ginger jam. At noon I had an art class with Sol, as she taught me how to make some snazzy little bracelets, of which I made three. Everyone was mightily impressed by works and I vowed to go into mass production and put Ginger´s Paradise out of business. Time will tell.
Later that day, me and Ali bought some spaghetti and tinned peaches for the evening meal and did a little work in the garden. The peaches went down an absolute treat with some condensed milk, although Cristobal was both confused and mortified to hear of what we´d consumed in a place of such plenty.
We said goodbye to Ali on Saturday morning and then me and Evan had the unenviable task of shifting fifteen huge beams of wood. As the sun shone and the heat bore down, I was by the end of it, a dripping excuse for a man.
Pasta broke up the day and with the temperature still high, it was to the river once more for a dip and some reading. Cristobal then took me and Evan to see his hydro-generator, which along with a couple of solar panels, produces all the electricity for the two houses. Next on his list is a homemade fridge which will run on frozen amonia. In theory. It could also blow up the house.
With Ginger´s fifth birthday party the following day, the early evening was spent shifting earth to make a safer floor and arranging tables and chairs.
Luckliy there was blazing sunshine the next day for our open air fiesta. The early part of the day was spent preparing pizza, plum pudding, cake and fruit juice. By 2pm the numbers had swollen to over fifty and my stomach was rumbling. Like thunder.
Apple slices and biscuits saw me through the one and a half hour clown performance but then I got the green light. The lack of evening meals had boosted my appetite substantially so where most people had two pizza portions, I had eight and where others enjoyed one piece of pumpkin pie, I had ten. By the time it was time to clear things away, I could barely walk. But it felt good.
Finally on Monday, it was time to leave. This wasn´t before I´d presented Ginger with a game of snakes and ladders I´d made and received another pasting from Cristobal at chess. I said my goodbyes and left for one last night in Samaipata; my Bolivian home from home.
Back at La Posada del Sol, Trent, Charlie and Sierra welcomed me back like a forgotten son and in the evening I said another final goodbye to Ben and Suzanne at La Oveja Negra.
Yesterday I caught a taxi back here to the steaming Santa Cruz with a friendly Scottish couple who´d just got engaged at Machu Picchu. The rest of my day was spent making errands, emailing and eating at an Irish pub and Cuban restaurant.
Today I shall trim my beard with my new ´Zinger Classic´ cuticle scissors. When I´m presentable once more, I´ll catch the 8:30PM bus to Cochabamba where I´ll arrive some ten hours later all being well. A day or so after this I´ll be off to Oruro for carnaval and Bolivia´s biggest and best annual party.
After over a week in paradise, I´m ready to just appreciate the freedom of travel, the road ahead and a shedload of food. In fact, I´m starving right now.
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