McDonald’s shut its doors in Bolivia in 2002. Theories are conspiracies are abound for its demise and eventual departure. In the latest turn of events, other iconic US chains are knocking on the country’s doors. Could this signal a return of the Golden Arches?

Illustration: Ana Ryan Flinn

On average, an estimated 58 million customers are ‘lovin’ it’ every day in one of the 33,000 McDonald’s restaurants worldwide. Yet there hasn’t been a Big Mac served in Bolivia for over eleven years. Many have speculated as to why the corporation closed all eight of its restaurants here in 2002; a documentary was even produced in 2011 investigating ‘Why McDonald’s in Bolivia went bankrupt’. Political, social, economic, logistical and ideological reasons have all been put forward, but why the McChicken didn’t cross the road still remains an unanswered question.

After having courted Bolivian fast-food diners for four years, the corporate giant made the decision to pull out of Bolivia, making it one of the few remaining countries in the Americas without a McDonald’s. Surveying information to be found online, a common perception is that Bolivians don’t like fast food. An often cited documentary to advance this theory is ‘Why Did McDonald’s Bolivia Go Bankrupt?’, which claims that ‘Bolivians have nothing against hamburgers, but they don’t agree with the principle of fast food’. Bolivians consider a good meal to be made with ‘love, dedication, certain hygiene standards, and a certain cooking time’—therefore they steadfastly reject the idea of comida rápida . Yet a gringo like myself only has to meander through city streets swimming with salteñerias and Subways to realise this is just not the case. Besides, why would Burger King still be popular in all of Bolivia’s large cities?

I decide to ask the company itself why it withdrew from the country. A McDonald’s representative informs me—in the way that only a perfect PR team could—that the withdrawal was merely part of ‘an alteration of global strategy’. I won’t quote any of the rest as it reads slower than an encyclopaedia. Regardless, the facts do seem to indicate this would seem to be a just argument—in the same year it ditched Bolivia, McDonald’s withdrew from nine other countries, closing 700 stores in the process.

But is that the end of the story? It’s hard to tell, as the McDonald’s in Bolivia were primarily franchises rather than corporate locations, making the search for their records a difficult task. Finding anecdotes about McDonald’s was easier. ‘I remember McDonald’s as being a luxury, a treat for a special occasion. It was almost a sign of status to have your child’s birthday party at McDonald’s’, one Bolivian informs me. Perhaps this in itself explains the decline. In the rest of the world, the success of McDonald’s relates to its universal convenience and affordability. If anything, it’s generally associated with late-night revellers in varying states of inebriation and low-income families. Perhaps by primarily appealing to the aspirational end of the market, and not adjusting its menu or prices to its core market, were the main reasons for McDonald’s inability to secure a foothold in Bolivia.

Still unconvinced, I head to the streets to conduct a survey. Maybe here, with the customers themselves, I might be able to gauge the real motivation for the mighty McDonald’s retreat into oblivion. The best suggestion I receive was that the rejection was politically based. One middle-aged, particularly engaged gentleman leans forward, eager to answer the question—What do you think of McDonald’s and why did it fail in Bolivia? ‘The yellow “M” is synonymous with imperialism, an emblem of American ideals’, he says. Given Bolivian President Evo Morales’s at times belligerently leftist stance, it would seem fitting that something so identified with the United States should not succeed in Bolivia. Private US enterprise and hegemony appear to clash with Bolivian ideals.

Others support this claim. ‘McDonald’s was always the first place to be targeted when there were riots’, remembers one local. ‘It was a physical embodiment for everything we hated about the government’, recalls another. A little historical context is needed here. In 2002, the Bolivian president, Gonzalo ‘Goni’ Sánchez de Lozada, was a white, American-educated politician dubbed el ‘Gringo’ as he looked and spoke like one. (He’s currently in exile in the United States, facing extradition charges over the Bolivian gas conflict in which over sixty Bolivians died). During his presidency, anti-US sentiments were running high in Bolivia. As such, the golden arches became a clear target whenever there were riots. In particular, during a four-day strike in Cochabamba, the franchise was attacked. Perhaps they got the message, and fearing continued attacks due to the brand’s increasingly hostile reception were reason enough to understand that they were not welcome in the country.

Nowadays, however, the political turbulence that shrouded the future and safety of the McDonald’s brand within Bolivia is not as evidently apparent. The belligerent, anti-US segments of the population helped to get Evo Morales into power, and since his election there’s been a revindication of the traditionally impoverished and relegated indigenous class. Bolivia is also much more receptive to private investment from international companies now than it was ten years ago. With a burgeoning middle class with money to spend, McDonald’s might succeed were it to return.

Next year, another emblematic US brand will embark on a mission to ‘colonise’ the Bolivian market with one-pump vanilla lattes and Frappuccinos. This small step for Starbucks may signify a threshold moment for the Bolivian food market. Yet it’s arrival will leave us with the lingering déjà-vu feeling that we’ve seen this before. There may be something to the government’s proclamation of us having entered the era of the Pachakuti , based on a circular Andean conception of time which posits that history will repeat itself ad infinitum. With the indigenous majority well on its way to having its power reinstated after 500 years of oppression and inequality, there’s a corresponding increase in affluence within this group. This socioeconomic turn may inadvertently make Bolivian soil ripe once more for the Golden Arches to make their comeback. It remains to be seen whether this dual resurgence, ethnic and economic, will lead to further tensions between the new affluent indigenous peoples and the ‘empire’. They may well come hand in hand.

Chicas in Bolivia don't have a super sweet sixteen, they have a super sweet fifteen. There are other grand events such as weddings and 'prestes' where the large and idiosyncratic catering industry shows off its best cakes, canapés and treats. Fliss's job is to visit some of these firms, and hopefully events, to check out their grandest and most extravagant creations.

A white dress, a grand cake, heartfelt champagne toasts, and adoring crowds of family and friends, diligently doting on your every desire—this describes what, for some girls, is the happiest day of a woman's life: the Wedding Day. Except that here, in Bolivia, this also describes another of the most significant celebrations in a girl’s life: the Quinceañera party.

Western interpretations of this celebration have resulted in gaudy shows such as 'My Super Sweet 16', which conjure horrible images of 'Veruca Salt'-style girls let loose with Daddy's credit card to have the most extravagant, money-burning bonanza to boast to your closest friends. In Bolivia, though, at the age of fifteen, a young girl's entry into womanhood is celebrated as a rite of passage by the entire family with anything from a quiet family barbecue to a huge 1920's ball to mark a debutante’s entrance into society.

Traditionally, the ceremony starts with a Mass, where the girl is presented with gifts from her friends and family, whilst wearing flat shoes. The event then progresses to a party, where she is presented to those in attendance by her father with her first pair of heels, symbolizing her transition to womanhood. This is a party like no other. No detail is overlooked to make this the most wonderful of days—especially not the cake.

As is tradition in Bolivia, the quinceañera cake plays a significant role in the proceedings. Since the Quinceañera is the ‘Queen’ of the party, she has a court customarily made up of ‘siete damas y siete pajes’, ‘seven maids of honour and seven pages’ of her choice. This group of 15 is represented by 15 dolls who ascend the stairs connecting the multiple tiers of the cake. Since these parties are grandiose in glamour and size and can sometimes host up to 400 people, the cake has to be prepared accordingly.

So you're fifteen and suddenly involved in planning one of the biggest celebrations of your life, armed with a certain budget and an insatiable desire for perfection—how do you choose the right cake? And where do you go to find it? A research investigation that took me up to the Max Paredes commercial district of La Paz (and resulted in one of the best mornings of my life sampling various types of cake), showed me the traditional types of cream covered cakes sold to the people of this city.

Generosity knows no bounds here, and so when I approached some of the cake vendors in town they were more than happy to cut me a free slice of their product. Light, fluffy, creamy and very sweetly flavoured, the cakes were the exact kind of crowd-pleasers I had imagined. With our mouths full of cream, we set out to find out more about the creation and cost of such masterpieces.

Baked with flour, butter, crema de leche , nuts and the incessantly coveted (in the BX household) dulce de leche, the cakes are then covered in elaborate designs with flowers, biscuits, fruit and unthinkable colours of jelly. These cakes are both a sight for sore eyes and a food for the soul. When we asked for prices, the vendors told us that on average a cake for 300 people would cost around 1200 Bolivianos ($150), transport included.

A trip downtown took us to some slightly more upmarket bakeries that cater for similar events. I needed a façade. Under the pretense of wanting to actually throw a Quinceañera myself, the owner of the bakery and I sat down to discuss the logistics of catering, and the type of cake I might like (though frankly I wanted them all).

The contrast between the two different types of vendors was stark. For one, the upscale bakery didn't offer us any cake, immediately making it a less appealing option. Secondly, the bakery didn’t have any prepared cakes to exhibit, and so we had no choice but to flick through a catalogue of elegant pictures, featuring delicate multi-tiered cakes adorned with flowers, stencils, gems and ribbons, like those you might find at a wedding.

Essentially, the cakes from both types of vendors had much of the same ingredients, but the upmarket bakery offered the choice of chocolate flavourings and frosting. When I asked for the prices of their masterpieces, it was lucky they hadn't offered me any cake as my jaw dropped: transport included, a cake from this bakery for 300 people would cost nearly 3500 Bolivianos ($500). At almost three times the minimum wage, this was clearly an extravagance only an elite minority can afford.

But how are these masterpieces created? How much time and effort goes into the preparation? Surely something as crucial as cake for such an important event would take several weeks to prepare? Interestingly enough, this was not the case.

Speaking to the owner of Pasteleria Nataly in Max Paredes, I was informed that to produce one of these veritable works of art, the bakery needs a week to gather the more intricate ingredients (such as jelly, vanilla essence and colorants), but only an evening to actually put the cake together, no matter the size of the order. This in itself is quite astounding, since the Quinceañera Queens often ask for a variety of complex shaped cakes, ranging from basic circular and rectangular, to those mimicking the favourite hobby or interest of the Queen: stars, flowers, football, or even the figure of the girl herself (a horrifying level of complexity I can attest to, after having spent a whole term in school in Food Technology classes trying to make a novelty ‘Pumpkin Cake’). The most popular flavouring of cake is ‘nuts and black forest fruits’, whose success could be attributed to the fact that all ingredients (flour, nuts, chocolate and fruits) are sourced locally, fresh from the market street on which her shop is located.

From personal, if haphazard, experience in cake baking (I just don't understand how it is they’re supposed to rise), it was a marvel for me to learn the ease at which these women bake the cakes. When speaking to Nataly, I couldn't help but notice the size of her tiny shop and her children running around her, pulling at her sleeves, crying to be fed. During the interview, she hoisted her baby onto her hip and began to breastfeed, while simultaneously clearing her other daughter's lunch and coherently following all my questions and guiding me through her cake catalogue. Nataly was, however, bemused by my awe. Smiling, she told me that ‘nothing is too difficult when you have the patience’.

Unfortunately, to the bakeries were as far as my research would allow me to go. Not having befriended a soon-to-be fifteen year old in my time out here, I couldn't get an invite to a Quinceañera party, and so never got a slice of the action. I did learn, however, that no attempt at a cake for a Quinceañera, nor the event itself, is ever half-baked.

A Photo Essay

Este gigantesco mercado, con reminiscencias de incendio, de sueño y de pesadilla, con tenebrosos contornos y con espesas humaredas, puede decirse que es único en su clase: no tiene igual en Bolivia, y puede afirmarse que es practicamente una institución [...]

Si alguien puede arrogarse con pleno derecho el título de hacedora del Mercado Rodríguez y de todos los demás mercados, es la chola paceña—sin ella, simplemente no habría nada.

Jaime Saenz - Imágenes Paceñas

A world away from the tourist haven of Sagarnaga lies Mecardo Rodriquez, the bi- ggest food market in La Paz. The streets are filled with the exuberance of local life, saturated with colours and textures and alive with characters from every corner of the city. This world awakens at four in the morning, coming into being in bitter darkness and accompanying the sun as it comes into life. Dogs and children litter the roads, creating a playground out of the mess of the market floor. Mundane characters and their lives engulf you from all directions as suspicious eyes follow your progression through the stalls, unused to foreign presence and suspicious of the camera’s lens. There is a murky beauty to the market; the abundance of colourful fruit and vegetables is set against the grime of urban life at its most chaotic.The harshness of outdoor work in the sun and rain is revealed in the appearances of the vendors as the years carve lines into their faces and their heavy produce bends their bodies. During an 18-hour work day it is no surprise that you occasionally have to rouse the sellers as busy movement and lethargy intermingle. The women sitting behind their products have become part of the market itself, becoming one with their surroundings and part of the urban landscape. As the market fades into the night the colour slowly drains. People disperse, leaving a trail of rubbish as a reminder of the past bustle. By nine in the evening it is only the dogs that remain, roaming the streets to discover forgotten treasures.

5:00. The vendors emerge and the stalls heavy with produce are uncovered after being kept under plastic over night, the possibility of theft apparently non-existent

6:30. The sellers settle themselves for a long working day, finding a position that they could maintain for up to 18 hours

16.00. The women sitting behind their products have become part of the market itself, becoming one with their surroundings and part of the urban landscape

17:00. A rare opportunity to capture an expression from the merchants, most shying away from the camera’s intruding lens

17:30. These men transport the produce through the market, selling their services to various vendors

21.00. Part of the market is contained indoors, typically inhabited by the older, more seasoned cholitas. By nine o’clock, the building is eerily empty, echoing as we slip under the shutters before the men lower them fully