All Aboard the Bolivian Express: Tales of a Journalist at Altitude
I’m sure we’ve all done the career maths at some point during University life: chosen degree + extracurricular activity = ideal future employment venture. My equation went a little something like this: Spanish + casual writer = Spanish journalist. Hmmm. This formula seemed too simple, not to mention a little inaccurate nationality-wise. It definitely needed testing.
Destination: La Paz, Bolivia. First Impressions: Surely all of these oxygen canisters in the airport constitute a major fire hazard? Further notes: I. Can’t. Breathe. Clearly the oxygen canisters were a wise move on behalf of the Bolivian Airport Group, as La Paz is the highest administrative capital in the world at 3,600 metres above sea level. I stagger towards the Passport Control desk in a jetlagged, oxygen-deprived trance, only to be hit with a stereotypically Spanish-style inquisition at the window, all delivered with the pace of a speaker who is clearly accustomed to the thin Andean air.
“Why are you here? What are your reasons for being in our country?”
“I am on a work placement”
“Work placement! But you do not have permission to work in our country! Our country cannot pay you to work here”
I was in trouble already; this was clearly very much the wrong answer. However, technically, the Grupo Express Press for whom I was working was not, in fact, paying me. Thus the Passport Control officer and I agreed that the motivation of my trip was tourism. Looking back, I prefer to call it extreme tourism, as I doubt many tourists ever found themselves in the situations that my fellow freelance journalists and I did.
Destination: La Paz, Bolivia. First Impressions: Surely all of these oxygen canisters in the airport constitute a major fire hazard? Further notes: I. Can’t. Breathe. Clearly the oxygen canisters were a wise move on behalf of the Bolivian Airport Group, as La Paz is the highest administrative capital in the world at 3,600 metres above sea level. I stagger towards the Passport Control desk in a jetlagged, oxygen-deprived trance, only to be hit with a stereotypically Spanish-style inquisition at the window, all delivered with the pace of a speaker who is clearly accustomed to the thin Andean air.
“Why are you here? What are your reasons for being in our country?”
“I am on a work placement”
“Work placement! But you do not have permission to work in our country! Our country cannot pay you to work here”
I was in trouble already; this was clearly very much the wrong answer. However, technically, the Grupo Express Press for whom I was working was not, in fact, paying me. Thus the Passport Control officer and I agreed that the motivation of my trip was tourism. Looking back, I prefer to call it extreme tourism, as I doubt many tourists ever found themselves in the situations that my fellow freelance journalists and I did.
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A La Paz local enjoying the festivities
I had come to this bustling, mountainous city along with ten other University students in search of a more active, exotic journalism experience. Upon leaving the airport and joining the frantic 5am rush towards the city’s central market, it became apparent that writer’s block would almost certainly not be a probing concern of ours. La Paz was like the moon- both geographically and culturally speaking. We were immediately encircled by tower blocks clinging to crater-like rock forms and Aymaran women decked out in full skirts and miniature bowler hats, with ruddy-cheeked Andean babies strapped to their backs with what appeared to be a pashmina. As far as we could observe, there were no rules here, and that was exactly the principal we decided to apply to our journalistic endeavours.
We arrived in La Paz during Fiesta season, and the biggest festival of all was the “Entrada Universitaria”, or University Matriculation to you and me. This is no stroll through Younger Hall I can tell you. It took place two days after our landing and constituted an almost 24-hour flurry of short skirts, brass bands, tribal war dances and local spirits of the alcoholic variety. Our editors instructed us to muscle on in there and capture the essence of what was going on. We were disorientated, confused and initially stunned into silence.
We arrived in La Paz during Fiesta season, and the biggest festival of all was the “Entrada Universitaria”, or University Matriculation to you and me. This is no stroll through Younger Hall I can tell you. It took place two days after our landing and constituted an almost 24-hour flurry of short skirts, brass bands, tribal war dances and local spirits of the alcoholic variety. Our editors instructed us to muscle on in there and capture the essence of what was going on. We were disorientated, confused and initially stunned into silence.
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Girls in short skirts whip up a crowd
However, this trepidation and fatigue soon dissipated as we realised how willing the local paceños were to talk, dance, inform and be photographed. Their extravert, open nature and attitude allowed us to capture vivid, vibrant images of the festival, as well as gain insight into to history and traditions of the Fiesta from passers-by, participants and stallholders. The most intimidating looking subjects often gave us the most interesting, amusing tales and anecdotes, which encouraged us to let go of our fears and social phobias in order to scoop the best story. We had assumed that the local people would show us “gringos” little heed in such a community-led celebration, however, on our showing interest they waxed-lyrical about their own unique and diverse cultural heritage, and expressed their happiness regarding our involvement and coverage of the “Entrada Universitaria”. It became clear that the bolivianos wanted to shout about their culture and customs as much as we did.
Nevertheless, despite the co-operative and jovial disposition of the majority of our Bolivian interviewees, the acquisition of a Press Pass was undeniably invaluable to journalistic investigation. Sleek and professional, we sauntered into the national football stadium and took our pitch-side seats, whilst the male members of our party set up camp besides the goal. On another occasion, we gained free VIP access into a chic city-centre club, all in the name of research of course. On presentation of our passes, officials were suddenly more obliging and doormen were instantly welcoming, primarily due to the increasing circulation of Bolivian Express and it’s ever-growing reputation. Yet, despite it’s obvious benefits, the Press Pass was no substitute for establishing genuine rapport and connections with the public. It seems that people remember a face and a smile, as opposed to a laminated identity card. And a llama doesn’t care either way. It still won’t pose for a picture even if you feed it. Some stories and subjects are just beyond the call of journalistic duty.
Nevertheless, despite the co-operative and jovial disposition of the majority of our Bolivian interviewees, the acquisition of a Press Pass was undeniably invaluable to journalistic investigation. Sleek and professional, we sauntered into the national football stadium and took our pitch-side seats, whilst the male members of our party set up camp besides the goal. On another occasion, we gained free VIP access into a chic city-centre club, all in the name of research of course. On presentation of our passes, officials were suddenly more obliging and doormen were instantly welcoming, primarily due to the increasing circulation of Bolivian Express and it’s ever-growing reputation. Yet, despite it’s obvious benefits, the Press Pass was no substitute for establishing genuine rapport and connections with the public. It seems that people remember a face and a smile, as opposed to a laminated identity card. And a llama doesn’t care either way. It still won’t pose for a picture even if you feed it. Some stories and subjects are just beyond the call of journalistic duty.
Impeccable timing and colour co-ordination
Glossary:
Aymara= native ethnic group from the Andes and Altiplano regions of South America
Paceño= native/ resident of La Paz
Gringo= pejorative term for foreigner
Boliviano= native/resident of Bolivia
To find out more about the Bolivian Express and its internship programmes please visit www.bolivianexpress.org or email ah462@st-andrews.ac.uk
Anna Hunter
Images: Rishum Butt
Aymara= native ethnic group from the Andes and Altiplano regions of South America
Paceño= native/ resident of La Paz
Gringo= pejorative term for foreigner
Boliviano= native/resident of Bolivia
To find out more about the Bolivian Express and its internship programmes please visit www.bolivianexpress.org or email ah462@st-andrews.ac.uk
Anna Hunter
Images: Rishum Butt