Saturday morning, crisp air, temperature and humidity of 'perfect as usual {Cochabamba ninete not call the city'} sell'eterna spring, they are 9 days and I'm here un'irrequitudine feel inside, I would like to move north , go, but I have to finish the course in English. So I try to sedarmi with the trip of the weekend. I was a little addicted to the gray cityscape and rediscover pleasure with the amenities' {Giulio, you understand me} the mountain scenery, green and red are not as intense as ever. Parto
to Oruro, a four-hour bus from there, along with Potosi 'one of the cities' history of Bolivia, a similar story, with its silver and tin mines. The topography and 'similar, both are climbing on Cerro from which you extract the precious metals. The city 'is the culmination of an immense north-western plateau that stretches west to the Atacama desert of northern and southern Argentina.
At his feet, a carpet, huge, teeming donneuominianimali unrolls towards the plain: and 'the market for cattle!
Ebe, a volunteer who works here in Ticino to the house of Danilo I strongly recommend a place to sleep, I arrive, I call the number given to me believing that this is a hostal. He responds Jose ', a little puzzled, he seems almost surprised that someone ask for a room; vabbuo' I attribute this to the off-season, in fact, will not meet 'another "gringo" for the whole weekend on the streets. Just come to my house, the secret is revealed! Jose 'does not operate any hostel, from what I understand is the guardian of a German-style house, owned by' a Alemannic, where there are few rental apartments, a kindergarten and a lovely craft shop . The remaining rooms, the house and 'huge and very beautiful, Jose' has set up a Cafe 'in the evening draws young people of Oruro alternative.
In any event, India did not bat an eyelid and in less than no time he set a couch on the porch. X is fine for one night!
wander around the Casco Historico, the stalls of the market and get on the Cerro to see the city skyline. I lose track of time, and when I decide that it 's time to eat almost all restaurants are closed. And Caz, is nine and a half!
Back to the Cafe 'Jose', there 's a nice atmosphere, playing live, spend the evening with some volunteers of a Canadian NGO: Juliet, Sebastian and another that I do not remember the name.
I wake up, and after a hearty breakfast American style I try to close, I am about to enter a street but are overwhelmed by a flood of people advancing in the direction opposite to mine! It 's the track event for the guys and of Oruro, Bolivia or the whole, judging from the number. Mention an attempt to advance that refers to scenes of fantozziana memory so decides it 'better to be carried by the tide and the tide takes me straight to the streets, and where wisdom'! On the other hand, and 'in the main plaza on Sunday morning and met the workers of all categories: school, army, police, church, parents ... just missing the Gringo ... Here I am, I'm Here!
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