Five years ago Bolivian Express was born between a japanese restaurant and a lift on Avenida 20 de Octubre in La Paz. During the clunky journey from the ground floor to the 17th storey, two young gentlemen and a Swiss-Indian chica lamented the absence of an English-language publication in the country; two notable predecessors—the Bolivian Times and Llama Express—were sadly no longer in circulation. And so the name of the magazine was born as a portmanteau of sorts, an homage to the magazine’s forebearers.
We were determined to find a viable way of printing a quality free publication, given the erratic nature of local advertising revenues and shortage of local English-language journalists. A further (Irish) founder was enlisted and six university friends were boarded on a plane, kidnapped to serve as editorial guinea pigs. It became clear to the founding team that an ideal way of sustaining the project as a whole would be to combine it with a journalism training programme.
What started off as a magazine for tourists quickly turned into something else. After the first 10 issues, we had already covered all the well-trodden festivities and attractions the country is probably best known for. The continuous challenge has been to find new stories from which everyone, including the local audience, can learn something new. Indeed, over half of our readers are native Spanish speakers, so we are as committed to writing for them as we are for the uninitiated in Bolivia. This work has brought us close to people we would perhaps never have had an excuse to get to know: from former presidents, ministers and local sporting heroes, to Michael Jackson impersonators, prisoners serving life sentences and private investigators.
Since our unconventional beginnings, the project has involved over 120 people from 20+ countries worldwide who have come to volunteer as part of the effort.Today, the Bolivian Express team of volunteers live and sleep in a shared house as they explore the country, its stories and cultures with the help of a local team. By looking beyond the salt-flats and ancient ruins, their mission is to bring new eyes to this infinite land. If they leave as cultural ambassadors, rather than just tourists, the project has achieved one of its aims. And, of course, by flicking through these pages you, the reader, are closing the circle and helping to complete this project’s mission.
Over the years we have also worked with a large number of people across the world: editors scattered across San Francisco, New York and Caracas, a web developer in Berlin, an editor and marketing director somewhere in the Swiss alps, and even a virtual assistant in Bulgaria (hey, Pavlin). As past team members have taken on new challenges, others have appeared and have reshaped the project anew. With this, our 50th issue, we are incredibly proud to say that Bolivian Express has a life of its own; it exists as something greater and wiser than the people who have made it possible so far.
Thank you for being a part of this journey.
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PHOTO: MICHAEL DUNN CACERES
Bolivia is one of two landlocked countries in South America, with a long, painful history regarding the sea. On March 23, 1879, Bolivia lost the War of the Pacific to Chile and, as a consequence, it lost its Pacific coast. Each year on this day, El Día del Mar serves to remember and mourn this historic blow to Bolivia’s pride and resources.
But Bolivians don’t only express their grievance for their former coastline on March 23rd. In fact, 136 years later, this loss is still characteristic of Bolivian identity. The fiery-red jackets of Los Colorados, a distinguished military unit in Bolivia, represent the blood shed in the War of the Pacific. A political poster above Plaza Avaroa defends Bolivia’s “sovereign access to the sea.” Young artists in the country still find inspiration in this story of national loss. And during football games between Bolivia and Chile, Chilean fans taunt their opponents by singing “Vamos a la Playa”.
El Día del Mar is not just about water -- it’s about pride. It represents the pain of a country that has always stood in the economic shadow of its neighbor, and it’s hard to say when or if this wound will ever heal.
PHOTO: NIA HAF
The central station of the red teleférico line is situated next to what used to be La Paz’s only train station. It shut down in 1996 as the tracks had been deteriorating for years, along with the popularity of the train as a form of public transport. This station was the starting point of the Andean rail network that ran from La Paz to Arica in Chile. However, it never was a huge success due to the historically poor relationship between the two countries.
During the 1990s, there was talk of restoring the line, but the planned maintenance would cost an extortionate $40 billion, so over time the tracks were forgotten. Today, the station building stands empty, without permission to be demolished. Coupled with the contemporary teleférico station, this area acts as a symbol of Bolivia’s past and promising future of transport.
PHOTO: FINN JUBAK
The Playa Turquesa website shows a slim, bikini-clad blonde lady, reclining on white sand with clear water and sailingboats in the background—what looks like a fancy Mediterranean package holiday. This, however, is an advert for one of the three beach resorts under development in the Santa Cruz department of eastern Bolivia, thanks to its low-lying geography and tropical climate. Francisco Cirbián, the general manager of Puerto Esmeralda, one of the other two resorts in development, explained that the project is to be completed by 2016.
These resorts are home to man-made lagoons, the biggest of which will encompass 120,000 square metres, and apartments of varying prices that are available for purchase or to rent for a holiday. Cirbián explains that in the near future there are plans to build a hospital and a school in the vicinity of Puerto Esmeralda. Somewhat ironic, however, is the fact that the company constructing the other two resorts—Playa Turquesa and Mar Adentro—is Chilean, given that the only reason Bolivia has a need to construct an artificial, landlocked beach is due to its loss of the sea to Chile during the War of the Pacific in 1879–83. Yet people are seemingly on board with this project, which has so far been a huge success, despite not being officially open yet.
At the start of 2014, 30 percent of Puerto Esmeralda and an astounding 70 percent of Playa Turquesa had been pre-sold—an essential investment to even begin the construction of such large-scale projects. But in a country with the lowest GDP per capita in South America, in which the average yearly salary is less than $5,000, these pre-sale figures are even more surprising, given that the cheapest lots start at $30,000 and apartments at $60,000. So where are these buyers coming from? It would seem that a small percentage of the Bolivian upper-middle class are managing to sustain such developments. This Dubai-esque utopia seems to be a trend that, after completion in the next year, looks set to take the country by storm. Whether it will continue to grow or not, only time will tell.
