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.
Download
PHOTO: NICK SOMERS
Every morning, Lolita leaves her house at 8 am so she can be on time to make the bread. She has been part of the Chabad Lubavitch for four years, working for the rabbi’s family as a nanny, as an assistant in the kitchen, and, now, as the manager of the restaurant. ‘I am happy here’, she says. ‘I have friends.’ Her customers mainly consist of young Israelis who are traveling around South America and come to the Chabad to eat kosher food. Lolita knows every single detail of the meticulous kosher food preparation, and she is very respectful of it. Whenever she has to cook something, she calls one of the Jewish assistants of the rabbi by shouting: esh!!!! (‘fire’ in hebrew), and soon one will come to turn it on for her. She does this because the food, in order to be kosher, has to be prepared with fire that is provided by someone who keeps all the misvots (commandments) since birth. Lolita enjoys this peculiarity of kosher food preparation, especially when Moshe or Yossi, the rabbi’s assistants, run to the kitchen just to turn on the fire for her.
PHOTO: ALEXANDRA MELEAN A.
Don Teo has worked for the URME clilnic before it even was an actual clinic. He was first hired to take care of the building while the last construction details were being made and equipment was being bought. Since then, he became the one who everyone goes to for help—he cleans every corner, he assist the doctors, and whenever they need a rare medicine or just something from close by, he gets it for them. Don Teo has seen many people come and go, but he is not willing to leave. He says he would never work in any other health institution. All the time he’s worked at URME, he says what he values most are the friendships he has built. He says that we are all a family—we may not have chosen to be together but we are there for the other. He is not the chatty kind, so he closes our conversation with ‘Here I learned to be a friend.’
PHOTO: SZYMON KOCHANSKI
Over 200 years old and officially one of UNESCO’s Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity, the Carnaval de Oruro, a tradition of hedonism and spectacle, remains vibrant and debaucherous to this day. The water fights (i.e., water balloons and water guns wielded by small children and insecure changos as they terrorise the young female population), the elaborate outfits, the well-rehearsed and unworldly parades and dances, and the differing carnival experiences across Bolivia have fascinated and wowed previous BX reporters. What unites this cluster of colours and diversity? I’ll give you a hint—it’s not the honour of having Jude Law present at this year’s celebrations (although he was). For four days, Bolivia is racked by an overwhelming solidarity as the country throws itself into hedonism, decadence, and vibrant colours. Tarija, Santa Cruz, La Paz, Copacabana, Coroico—wherever you travel in mid-February, carnaval pursues you, closely followed by a well-aimed water balloon.
