Hobo TRAVEL TIPS - Bolivia Culture - Secret Pockets
Issue 67 Hobotraveler.com - May 2, 2002
Hobotraveler.com
A Hobo trip around the world. Year 4
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HOBOTRAVELER.COM WEBPAGE UPDATE
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newsletters.
Hobotraveler.com
Submit your hostel or hotel. Must have kitchen,
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~ HOBO STEW (A Dish of Meat and Vegetables)
~ Hoboguide.com (Go this way) - Go to Prison, Do not pass Go
~ TODAY�S TIP - Secret Pockets
~ EXTREME HOBO TRAVEL - Dennis & Scott Bike Around World
~ TODAY�S TIP FROM THE - �Peanut Gallery�
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~ HOBO STEW (A Dish of Meat and Vegetables)
TYPES OF TRAVELERS
We got jugglers. We got bongos, We got flutes,
We got guitars. We got people sitting on the floor cross legged.
We got people weaving string bracelets, making silver Jewelry.
Nose rings, tongue rings. Tattoos
Every type of clothing and hair style possible.
I�m talking about the traveler in the Hostel, not the country.
I need that big camera with a big zoom lens. Or maybe
a secret digital camera I can post on the wall to capture
the moments and days here in Bolivia. I am not sure what
happens or why. Bolivia is probably the cheapest country
in South America at the present time, so I think the people
that want to live the cheapest are here. Safest place when you
have no money and do not want to go home and work or live
a normal life.
Guatemala was like that, cluster of fashion, or lack of fashion.
One of the cheapest countries in Central America.
They level of exotic behavior has risen so high. I cannot even
fit in, I am too conservative. The crazy part is I have finally grown
my ponytail. I wear a Jacket from Guatemala. The Alpaca
sweater from Otavalo Ecuador, and T-shirt from Iquitos Peru
with the Parrot on the back. I wear sandals on warm days.
I could not be bothered with the earring I got in San Jose, Costa Rica.
So I let it grow shut. I can play the guitar, but refuse to
play the bongos.
You would think I had the rights to passage.
I thought I had the correct uniform.
But just when you think you are part of the gang.
They throw you out with the dish water.
It is time to move on...
This place is no longer the place for me.... hehehe
Hostels change flavors from time to time, and then it
becomes the correct time to leave. Hit the road.
Jump a train, catch a bus, or get the hell out of Dodge.
I am really excited about my project to have a mobile
webcam in places I visit. This would be just too much fun.
The locals always look at the Gringos with curiosity.
Blond hair and blue eyes, and I am different in a world
of dark hair and dark eyes. I cannot change that.
But sometimes enough attention is enough.
I suppose I should keep my mouth shut.
But that would be like that story about the
Kings new clothes. Where he is naked and everyone in
the Kingdom is suppose to pretend he is elegantly dressed.
Then someone tell the truth, and they are all astonished.
Here in my Hostel are a lot of people that did not get
hugged enough when they were kids.
The are screaming for attention. I have to go my room
to hide to not stare at their clothes, hair, and nose rings.
Some of the girls are very pretty. But I would have put them
in the shower first. Just to be safe.
OK... enough,
Most are following a dream, and hoping they find a better world.
Hope they realize soon, this is the only one.
There is one really good singer though from Mexico here.
They are playing guitar, bongos, flute, and a violin.
(The violin is unusual and played by a guy from Japan)
ALL the time. Whether we like it or not. Day or night.
Of course no one would ever tell them to stop.
This would be anti-anti rage against the machine talk.
This is the norm here, and no one complains.
I read in a book and the fellow said,
�I never discuss politics with a person under 40.�
I think he made good sense.
A person needs to be married, a baby or two, and
a least one job before you enter into these discussions.
I only have had the job, so maybe I am not qualified.
I am tired of reading about Che Guevara and trying to
understand why he is popular. Bolivia killed the guy,
and his black and white portrait is on everything.
I give up. I do not understand. Or maybe I understand too well.
And do not want to believe.
Maybe all the geese are flying the wrong direction.
There is a lot of Cocaine real cheap in Bolivia.
Maybe all these travelers are doing too much.
At 9 dollars a gram here, they are doing plenty.
I am sure soon South American culture will copy the drug
culture of the USA and Europe. They copy everything else.
Chile, and Argentina are already part of the drug culture
The trend is moving quickly here.
Watch out... Bolivia
I got the word from my Sister and Mother after my story
on the Prison that I was suppose to tell my readers
something..... OK... OK... I confess.
After doing too much, for too long. I stopped.
I do not drink alcohol or do drugs....
aagh..
I do not even smoke cigarettes.
I like it this way also... Its a lot better.
They will definitely throw me out of the Hostel.
My blood is very clean... Except for coffee.
I will not tell them how many years !
Maybe they will let me sit, and keep my mouth shut.
I am going to sit around today and take pictures.
I hope they do not tar and feather me.
The bus leaves soon. I am in luck.
I must have prayed for tolerance.
Someone is making me sit around and be tolerant.
PHOTOS OF TRAVELERS IN HOSTEL
http://www.hobotraveler.com/067hostelculture01.shtml
http://www.hobotraveler.com/067hostelculture02.shtml
FREE LISTING ON HOBOHIDEOUT.COM
EL CARRETERO HOSTEL - LA PAZ BOLIVIA
http://www.hobohideout.com/bolivialapazcarretero.php
La Vida Buena
Beso y Abrazos
Andy the hobo
Maybe it will help you to...
PLAN YOUR ESCAPE...
Be a Hobo, and leave your mark.
X Hobotraveler.com was HERE!
Life is good.
The Hobotraveler.com
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Article written by Andy the Hobotraveler.com
On year 4 of Hobo trip around the world.
Budget Travel, Jobs, and Adventure, etc
Subscribe to Free Newsletter at:
Hobotraveler.com
You may publish this article for Free
on the internet If this box stays attached.
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~ Hoboguide.com GO THIS WAY !
HOW MANY KISSES GOODBYE ?
Who will be the first to leave?
Please stop and say goodbye.
Visiting with my new friend Maria yesterday I learned
something I was not sure I wanted to know. The owner of small
tourist shop close that sells typical jackets, bags, clothes etc.
made by local indigenous people.
Upon entering her store she smiles, and says,
�Hola Andr�s.�
A little too much accent on Andr�s and strung out too long like
a note of a song the singer does not want to end. She is nice,
warm, safe, and she feels free to joke, and make fun
as a friend and comrade. And now as the friendship grows
she breaks down a little and tells me a problem.
Friendships can be weighed and sold on what a person tells you.
A cheap friendship has little weight, and nothing of value.
What the person tells you does not matters, and there is no
emotional price to pay. What they share and explain of their lives
has little consequence to the future. A casual conversation.
�Hey, look at these great things I bought at the market.�
An expensive friendship has weight.
You put it on the scales and it teeters and drops.
It is difficult to keep them it in balance. One side of
the scale is always little heavier than the other. But friends
seem to never look at the scales. My parents have
tipped the scales very far. They have given me more than I can
ever give back. So like a good book tells me, I have to give to
others to repay that debt. I owe the people with less than me
for what was given from people with more than me.
Maria gave me a gift and the friendship has more weight.
She told me what she was thinking and feeling.
�A problem shared is a problem halved.�
She lives in a small house in the hills overlooking La Paz.
It is safe from drunks, thieves, and noise she says,
plus the air is cleaner. There are lot of vegetables grown close
to the house. I visited her home the other Sunday for lunch.
Discussed with her and her husband, and two children the
life and times of Bolivia and a blond hair, blue eyed boy tried
to make them laugh American style.
I am probably a natural salesman, but only when I feel safe
and want to. Turning on the charms and melting away our differences
Although this becomes more difficult with each passing year.
The energy become weaker and feelings become jades.
Seen that and done that is a problem. But we broke bread, and
shared a few stories, and laughs and we were soon the same
or equal in our lives and friendship.
Maria, her husband, her two sons invaded my life, and I invade
theirs. My culture mingled with theirs, and theirs with mine.
The two cultures started the process of merging.
When I stopped in her store yesterday. She was talking with a lady.
Short and a little too wide around the hips, and face. I was not
sure where this lady comes from, and what she does. I take a stool
at the side, of the store, and sat back and looked at girls as they
passed
by the store. I was tired, and did not want to enter in a new
conversation
with unknown people, and tell stories of exotic lands. I want to look
at fashions of the world as they pass the door. Fortunately or
unfortunately
my Spanish has reached the level where I can overhear other peoples
conversations and understand. So I am sitting there doing what I do
best.
Looking at girls out the door, and these two are having a
conversation.
Strange noises. I cannot understand what they are saying. No..
I can, No I cannot. Drifting between knowing and not knowing. I think
my ears are bad, my hearing is going.
�Que idioma esta?�
What language are you speaking? I say in Spanish.
�Quechua�
Ah Yea !!!
I knew it. I said to myself. I knew she was part Indian.
A pretty stupid thought in reality. Everyone in South America is a
little
of this and a little of that. Part Indian, and part Spanish. Throw in
a few other cultures and you got a new world.
When I was at her home, she showed me some family pictures.
�Quince A�os�, or
�Fifteen Years� in English.
This is the party the Catholics have for their daughters who reach the
age of maturity or fifteen years old. I admit, do not understand, but
I do know, that if I am invited, it can be a great party.
But as the sons are pushing pictures in front of me, and I am politely
looking through them, trying my best to feign interest, and be properly
surprised, and interested in things that happened, and I will never see
again in my life, or maybe I will. I need to hedge my bets and pay
attention
just in case. There are pictures of lots of girls in long dresses, and
young
boys dancing with girls taller than them. The shoes for women here are
the 4 inch type, and the men seem to shrink. I think the girls need
the advantage in this Macho world. At the end of the pile is a family
portrait
of all the family. Maria comes over and explains the guilty parties, and
who are the Sisters, Uncles, and the family rankings, and where they
live, and
which ones I have already met.
In the middle of the photo is a stout woman. Long semi-traditional dress
of
the Indian women. I ask who? And Maria says its her mother.
I look at the hat on her head, and think to myself. That is an Indian
hat.
I log this into my memory, and start to weave together the history of
this
family. But to be polite. I keep my mouth shut, and do not inquire.
Although I am extremely curious. I want to ask.
�Are you first generation Gringo clothes?�
There comes a time when the old ways leave, and new ways are
adopted. It appears they adapted to the changing world and
the new customs and her mother is still in the old. The first generation
to give up the old ways. A major change in a family.
So when I am sitting in the store, and she is speaking Quechua.
The local language of the Indigenous people. I begin to confront her
with the old and the new in a joking way. Of course she says I am
from Gringolandia and that is OK. We are not jealous, or envious
of each other. I am her equal, and she is a proud woman.
She does not give me any benefits.
I may have more USA dollars than her, but that is just a different way
of doing things. She is happy with who she is, and how she lives.
We discuss the family history.
The short round lady leaves.
Maria looks at me with sad brown eyes.
Sitting in the middle of La Paz on the tourist street.
In a small store that caters to the western world, that wants to buy
the clothes, trinkets, and curios that would prove we came to a place
where people dress and act like Indians. (Whatever we want that to
mean).
She tells me the story.
This is now all in Spanish, and I am translating.
My husband signed the house over to guarantee a loan for a friend.
He ask me, if I would sign? And I said NO.
But then he goes to the bank, and signs anyway.
Then he does not tell me.
The friend has not repaid the loan, and they want to sell the
home now to recover the 2500 dollars USA.
That would be about 20,000 dollars US in our earning power.
The friend has left town, and she is stuck with the bill.
Maria is worried. She could lose her home to the Bank.
And her husband has betrayed her.
She says... He is an adult. His is not a kid.
�El esta mayor, El no esta un ni�o.�
I have way too much experience in Real Estate, and before I took
to the life of a Hobo... And gave up my Gringo ways I had a some
special skills, and knowledge. So I started the interview.
Who signed. Was this before or after you was married?
What is the interest rate? Etc. Etc.
Just to understand the level of the problem.
Five percent interest per MONTH.
This is real. The scales or the weighing of our friendship
has just changed. I am not sure how to handle this, and
hope that my Spanish is sufficient to have the tact and compassion
needed to stay the course.
Steady on...
I put my hand on her back. A small touch can save the world.
Look into her eyes and say.
�The world solves its problems,
Please remember. You love your husband.�
She nods her head, an shakes it.
Trying to ignore the reality and hoping it will go away.
Her husband arrives. I have obviously visited at a time
of flux between these two friends and family. He has
his tail between his legs, and is looking down as he talks
with Maria. He talks in code. No he talks in Quechua.
The language of their youth, The intimate language of their
families, and friends. The way they talk, when they need to talk.
I am positive they will solve this problem, and that life
will go on. Because life is good, and always does.
THERE ARE 3 CULTURES IN THE ROOM
1. The culture of Gringolandia... (Estados Unidos)
The culture presently at the front, leading the pack.
2. The Mestizo culture. A mixture of Spain, and Indian.
Still blending and evolving, and looking now at the western world.
3. The Inca, or Quechua.
A dying culture, with no place to go.
( To me a culture starts to die, when more people leave then enter )
Each culture learns from the other.
The only thing I can guarantee is that they will all change
and evolve, and in five hundred years it will be a good
read in the history books.
Maria is the process of changing her clothes.
She has put on the clothes of the Western world.
She sell the clothes and products of her past life.
Her problems are from both worlds.
SO HOW MANY KISSES?
I like this custom. In some countries they kiss on one
cheek. Some countries they kiss on two cheeks. And for the really
lucky cultures it is three. I am sad to say in the USA they
do not kiss. But among good friends. We do get a big bear
hug, and my mother still kisses me after a year away from
home. But she only gets away with that once.
I do not know how many kisses to give Maria goodbye.
So I opt for one. It will work.
I have to choose how to approach each culture I meet.
It is a choice. Some are simple like the number of kisses.
Other choices are difficult.
Maria has to make more difficult choices as her culture changes
very quickly.
We are extremely different and we are exactly the same.
Cultures will come and go.
I make the decisions on how many kisses
as I stop to say goodbye.
Maria will have to make her choices between
the ways of the past, and the ways of the future.
South America is an adult.
It will make it own choices.
They are responsible for their future.
I will remember...
I�m from Gringolandia.
I am proud of that.
She is from Bolivia.
She is proud of that.
Another day, another friend.
The world changes, and always will.
PHOTOS OF CHANGE
http://www.hobotraveler.com/067boliviacultue.shtml
Maybe it will help you to...
PLAN YOUR ESCAPE...
Be a Hobo, and leave your mark.
X Hobotraveler.com was HERE!
Life is good.
The Hobotraveler.com
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Article written by Andy the Hobotraveler.com
On year 4 of Hobo trip around the world.
Budget Travel, Jobs, and Adventure, etc
Subscribe to Free Newsletter at:
Hobotraveler.com
You may publish this article for Free
on the internet If this box stays attached.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
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~ TODAY�S TRAVEL TIPS
SECRET POCKETS
I used to sit on a beach in Pie de la Cuesta, Mexico.
It is located about 8 miles north of Acapulco and has
the nickname �Sunset Beach.� Because you can sit and
watch the sun set directly in front of the beach. In front of
every hotel was a �Palapas�
I have never seen �Palapas� exactly like this since. In
a few places close, but not quite the same. They would stand
poles vertically about 3 meters apart in squares and make a matrix.
Then they would lay poles horizontally across the top for a flat roof.
In the end it was covered with palm fronds, and you had a perfect
place to hang a hammock and look at the ocean.
A good place for shade, but close to the waves and ocean.
I sat under the Palapas for many a day, reading my book.
Listening to the ocean, and watching the Sun work its way
across the sky and slowly set directly in front. The conditions are
perfect with a small breeze across this strip of land, and you can
live for months only wearing a pair of shorts.
No Shirt, No Shoe, No Problem
Well... I suppose there is one little problem in Paradise.
When you lay around all day in a hammock. Looking at women
and reading your book. You need a few peso and the keys to your
room. I like to travel light, and would take a long walks everyday along
the beach. In this paradise you need about 5-7 pairs of shorts or
swim trunks to live and prosper. A couple of shirt at night to try
to be a little more respectable.
BANDITOS ON THE BEACH.
I learned there was a thief on the beach.
Not the normal type, but a long and thin type that used rope.
A HAMMOCK
This comfortable and enjoyable way to let the world pass
you by collects and steals coins, and keys. They had a mesh
type on this beach and the coins would slowly work their way out of
my pockets and fall to the sand below. Then you would have to
run your fingers through the sand below you,
and hopefully find your keys or money.
Now, I am not your normal beach bum.
I am the Beach Bum extroardonaire (SP). I can lay around forever on
beaches, so I have lost lots of money at the beach.
Plus when you go in for a swim, where do you put your money?
I do not like to be frustrated. So I looked for solutions to
this daily problem.
There is a solution.
The real good swim trunks, or travel pants occasionally will have
little pockets sewn inside, with a zipper or velcro closing to keep
things
inside. I cannot remember how it evolved or exactly what happened.
But I discovered these little pockets. I had 7 pairs of shorts and one
had a pocket. So I had 6 days of work and 1 day of rest.
Watch my money for 6 days, and on 1 day the money was safe.
Strangely enough there was a young man that would walk along
this beach and offered to make custom swim suits, and shorts
for people. I commissioned this guy to put pockets in all my shorts
and pants.
A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS....
Please look at the photos.
http://www.hobotraveler.com/forsale0005moneypackage.shtml
I WAS IN PARADISE
Both literally and in a sense of peace.
My money, my keys, and small things were safe.
You never know how big a problem was until it is solved.
I soon realized that I had been dealing with this problem for years.
Playing a lot of sports, or working out at the gym a home.
Laying around on couch in front of the TV using my remote
control and watching my favorite movie. There are lots of times
when you need a safe pocket.
THINGS CANNOT FALL OUT OF THIS POCKET
You seen the guy. He walk into the restaurant or bar for
a drink. He is coming from the soccer field, or gym. He is fit walking
tall and fast, Struts into the local hangout and still has on his
uniform.
Just stopping to have cold one before going home. He has his wallet
in hand, and puts it on the table in front of him.
This guy needs an extra pocket.
Some pockets have zippers. This will work.
But most pants do not have zippers. A few have a piece of Velcro
but just a small piece to keep the pocket closed.
Coins can still fall out, if you for some reason find your
self upside down or rolling around on the floor or ground.
There is commercial on television right now where an older couple
are shaking their friends on the couch. Then all their friends leave
and they harvest the money for their retirement from under the cushions.
They need a secret pocket.
This all started about 4 years ago, and over 30 countries ago.
I have had two other people make pockets for me, and now I carry
extras with me for when I buy new clothes. I can honestly say.
I will never in my life have a pair a pants, shorts, or swimsuit that
I will not sew in an extra pocket.
A girl the other day had her money belt stolen.
She went into a restaurant, and sat down. The money belt was located
on the front. It was uncomfortable. She took it out.
Placed it on her lap. She stood up to go
to the toilet. The belt fell on the floor.
A short while later she realized it was gone.
Someone had picked up the obvious item of value and ran off.
I gave her a pocket to sew into her pants.
I now carry my wallet on the inside of this pocket.
Sometimes my passport. A pickpocket cannot get in here.
Maybe your lover, but not a pickpocket.
LIST OF PEOPLE THAT NEED THESE POCKETS
1. Tourist and Travelers for security.
2. Swimmers and beach people.
3. Exercise and sport enthusiast
4. People that lose their keys and money in the couch.
ANYONE that loses things out of their pockets.
Or any place with lots of pickpockets and thieves.
There is nothing complicated about these pockets.
Any good seamstress or tailor can make a pocket.
With some clear directions, and a little work, you can explain
to someone how to make these pockets and where to sew them
into your pants.
WRONG
You will all say... Too easy.
Then never do it... Just a good thought.
Most people buy new clothes when there is a hole or
a problem with their clothes. So to go out an have a custom made shirt
or these pockets made is just a little too much hassle.
THE SOLUTION
Buy the pockets ready to be sewn into your clothes.
I have been thinking about this tip for years.
Wanting to write about it, but this is not my normal type of tip.
If you have read my tips for a few years, you will realize that all my
solutions to problems are simple and something you can buy anywhere
in the world. I do not recommend special gear, or equipment that is
difficult to purchase. This type of gear is easy to buy in countries
like the
United States, England, or Germany. You get in one of the undeveloped
countries and try to buy a special water bottle that has a filtering
system,
a Swiss knife, or all those expensive gadget and you will find that you
are not in Kansas anymore. You are in the real world.
But the funny part. In the undeveloped countries there is a seamstress
or tailor on every corner, and even people that repair shoes.
I can get COPIES of these pockets made easy here.
The first one was torture to explain in Spanish. But they can make
copies of anything.
SALES SPIEL hehehe
You can have someone make some for you, or you can do it easy.
I have a compete money, passport, and credit card solution.
5 Big Pockets (Big enough for passport)
5 Credit card pockets (Small)
1 Neck passport holder (Big enough for passport)
1 Money belt. (Big enough for passport )
I recommend these pockets.
The money belt is not my way, but people use them.
I use a neck pouch.
These are made in Bolivia.
If you are living in another country and wish to sell
things to the world. Please contact me.
I need responsible people.
PHOTOS
http://www.hobotraveler.com/forsale0005moneypackage.shtml
Maybe it will help you to...
PLAN YOUR ESCAPE...
Be a Hobo, and leave your mark.
X Hobotraveler.com was HERE!
Life is good.
The Hobotraveler.com
As always, these are suggestions. Please realize I am
giving guidance, and there are always other opinions.
�One mans paradise, is another mans hell�
This way we do not all go to the same place.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Article written by Andy the Hobotraveler.com
On year 4 of Hobo trip around the world.
Budget Travel, Jobs, and Adventure, etc
Subscribe to Free Newsletter at:
Hobotraveler.com
You may publish this article for Free
on the internet If this box stays attached.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
-------------------------------------------------------------
~ EXTREME HOBO TRAVEL
DENNIS & SCOTT BIKE AROUND THE WORLD
Scott is telling the good and bad.
Enters Argentina
IN HIS WORDS...
�Dennis and myself, Scott, are riding are bicycles
around the world over the next two years. Why would
anyone ride their bicycle around the world?
This is the most popular question people ask me. There
are many answers but it mostly boils down to my belief
that one has an obligation to live the best life they
know how. For myself and Dennis, living the best life
means bicycling around the world. We hope to inspire
many people to follow their dreams.
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TODAY�S TIP FROM THE �Peanut Gallery� Fun tips
Here's a little tip from me, to you, as an experienced traveler.
Never throw away the toothpaste tube.
Until you have already bought another.
There is always one more squeeze.
A simple purchase can sometimes take a couple of days.
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�Thank you God for thinking about me.
I�m alive and doing fine�.