CHAPTER XXIII.Total change in the appearance of nature—Cochi-janchi—Barley and potatoes—Chuño—Koad to Coni by Bandiola—Sacába—Approach to Cochabamba—Tambos—Apartments—The city and people—Luxuriously furnished houses—Fruits, flowers, and grain crops—Douche baths—Alaméda, or public garden—Sweets and ices—Tertulias and rocking-chairs—Commercial firms and their trade—Cascarilla, or cinchona bark—Hospitality of foreign residents and others—Moonlight ride—Climate—Want of sanitary arrangements—Mineral wealth of the district.
Total change in the appearance of nature—Cochi-janchi—Barley and potatoes—Chuño—Koad to Coni by Bandiola—Sacába—Approach to Cochabamba—Tambos—Apartments—The city and people—Luxuriously furnished houses—Fruits, flowers, and grain crops—Douche baths—Alaméda, or public garden—Sweets and ices—Tertulias and rocking-chairs—Commercial firms and their trade—Cascarilla, or cinchona bark—Hospitality of foreign residents and others—Moonlight ride—Climate—Want of sanitary arrangements—Mineral wealth of the district.
From the top of the cuesta of Malaga onwards into Bolivia the face of nature is so changed, that one seems to have suddenly arrived in another land. To the north of this hill, the mountains are covered with trees, and the plains bear their luxuriant wealth of tropical vegetation, but on the south the aspect is very different. On this side, the rocky mountain ranges of the Andes seem to produce nothing but crops of stones, which lie so thickly upon all the level plains that cultivation can only be carried on after the most laborious work. This rocky and stony nature of the soil gives the country a very dreary look, which is only relieved by trees and foliage, wherever a river has afforded opportunities of irrigation.
On the uplands and slopes of the hills barley and potatoes are grown, while on the uncultivatedlands a rough and long grass grows in tufts, and affords fair grazing for sheep and oxen.
About 5 p.m. we arrived at Cochi-janchi, at 10,950 feet above sea-level. This village has a particularly melancholy look, as there is not a vestige of a tree to be seen; the houses, which are very small in size, being built with walls and roofs of mud, or adobe, placed in enclosures made by walls of the same material. There is a small church built with mud, like the houses, and there are altogether about fifty or sixty farms scattered over the hill-side. The people must be very industrious, as the hills are much cultivated, some up to their summits, of probably 12,500 or 13,000 feet elevation. The district supplies Cochabamba with potatoes, and there appears to be a large trade done in them, both fresh and preserved. In the latter state they are called “chuño,” which is really nothing more than a frozen potato, and a most horrid substitute for the real article. The process of preserving seems to be that the potatoes are cut into slices and then into cubes, about the size of ordinary dice; these are exposed to the almost nightly frosts until they present a dry, corky appearance, in which state they will keep for any length of time, and form the staple article of food with the Quichuan Indians; indeed, throughout the interior of the republic, the chuño is met with at every table. I cannot say that I discovered its excellencies, for it seemed to me to taste just as it looks, like cork; but it is nevertheless a favourite component part of the chupe, which forms the first course both at breakfast and dinner. And certainly it appears to me to be the easiest method by whichpotatoes can be preserved; no tins or air-tight cases being required—a dry floor or sack serving all purposes for storage.
The mules are now fed with barley, given to them in the straw and unthreshed. This fodder seems to suit both mules and horses admirably, but requires to be varied now and then with grass food when the animal is not on a journey. It costs, near Cochabamba, about two pesos, or 6s.2d., the quintal of 100 lbs. weight, about sufficient for four animals’ nightly rations.
From Cochi-janchi there is another track that leads to Coni, by passing through a district called Bandiola, to the east of Espiritu Santo; but that track also has to pass the ridge of Malaga, and I was credibly informed that the cuestas in that direction are far more severe than those over which I travelled; and as my Yuracaré Indians refused to return to their homes by the Bandiola road, I think it may be agreed that it is not a practicable one. The Malaga cuesta, although rising to a great height, was not very steep, the ascent and descent being so gradual that I did not once have to dismount from my mule in going over it.
Next day, August 16th, the thermometer stood at 45° at six o’clock, which was quite cold enough to be pleasant, but not so sharp as the previous night at Inca Corral. I tried to get my arriero started early, but as he had many visits to make in the pueblo, and much chicha to drink at each house, it was past ten o’clock before we got on the road again. We soon began another ascent, which was very laborious, as the mules show signs of tiring moreand more every day. The top of this hill was 600 feet lower than the cuesta of Malaga.
After passing several small and insignificant villages, we came to the town of Sacába, a very considerable place. The day was market day, and the “plazas,” or squares, were full of the country people, who wear ponchos and shawls of the brightest colours, so that the scene was most picturesque. These markets are held in the open air, and almost everything that can be named is to be bought. Bread, meat, general provisions and stores, drugs, dyes, woollens, calicoes, and other stuffs of all kinds, pots, pans, and household implements, the stalls being all mixed up together, so that the market has a look as though the tradesmen of the town had emptied the contents of their shops out into the plaza. There are, however, no public horse or cattle fairs in Bolivia, the trade in animals being carried on quietly between the owners of the flocks of sheep and droves of oxen that one sees on the hills, and the butchers. The beasts are always killed, and their carcases dressed and cut up at public abattoirs outside the town, the meat being sold in the plazas or market-places, there being no butchers’ shops in any of the streets. The houses of Sacába are decently built in regular streets, but as the town is situated in a stony plain, the dust was very trying when a strong north wind was blowing. Our ride up to and through the town was done during a perfect dust-storm—so thick that it was necessary to tie our handkerchiefs over our faces, or we should, I think, have been suffocated. As for the people in the open plaza, they must have suffered severely, and their goods of a perishable nature musthave been almost spoiled by the clouds of dust that passed over the town.
Leaving Sacába, our shortest route lay across a ridge of mountains that stretch out into the plain, and behind which the city of Cochabamba is situated; but, as the mules were very tired and footsore, we kept to the plain, and went round the end of the ridge. The approach to Cochabamba was up a stream, now dry, with what appeared to be country residences on either side, many having considerable pretensions to comfort, and all having good, well-stocked gardens. These country houses are called “quintas,” and the owners mostly have town residences as well. A bridge for the road had been built over the river, but one of the piers had fallen, from the simple fact that the foundations were not on rock, but on sand and small stones. We entered the city about half-past six in the evening, crossing the principal plaza just as it was getting dark, putting up at the “tambo,” where, with difficulty, I succeeded in getting a small and dark room, which was quite destitute of any bedding or furniture. There was nothing to be had to eat or drink in the tambo, and I could only get a plate of greasily cooked beef-steak, which my boy managed to buy somewhere outside; but, notwithstanding the poverty of the accommodation, having had supper, I managed to pass a very good night, as I had my camp-bed, and was therefore independent of hotel fittings, being always able to sleep well, provided that I could get under a water-tight roof.
The tambo is an old Spanish institution that is fast giving way to the hotel, or “posada,” and probablyBolivia is the only South American republic where the tambo can be seen in its old-fashioned style. The tambo of Bolivia is not so well managed as the travelling bungalow of India, where the wayfarer not only finds a room, but also finds the necessary articles of furniture, such as a cot and washing apparatus, while there is always an attendant who can prepare a repast if the traveller has no servant of his own. In Cochabamba the tambo, as a building, outwardly is all well enough, but the rooms are small, dark, and badly ventilated, and in place of furniture a brick or mud shelf, of a width sufficient for sleeping on, is built up in one corner, or right across the end of the room. Sometimes this sleeping-bank takes the form of a daïs, raised only about a foot above the ordinary floor of the room, and the arrangement is in Bolivia not confined to tambos, but found also in many middle-class houses in use instead of bedsteads. Most travellers carry a mattress and pillows with their baggage; and in Bolivia a very useful mattress is made, specially for travelling, not too thick, and with one side covered with leather, so that when rolled up there is no danger of the stuff side getting wet, and when in use the leather side, being below, helps to keep the damp from the sleeper. Bolivians seem to be able to sleep soundly on this table or shelf arrangement; but European travellers should be careful to have their own cots with them, as, if they try the tables, they will soon find that sleep is out of the question, the mud or bricks being tenanted by armies of active insects, to whom the arrival of a stranger in the land affords an opportunity for varying theirnightly rations of Bolivian vitality that they are not at all slack in availing themselves of. Materials for washing seem to be quite superfluities in Bolivian tambos, and it becomes, therefore, necessary to carry a metal basin on one’s travels. However, the daily charge for a room is not at all extravagant, being a couple of reales, or about ninepence; but probably the proprietors of the tambos think that as the tribes of insects, that may be said to be joint owners of the hostelry, are sure to take a good contribution for themselves out of the unlucky traveller, it would be but justice to let off his pocket as lightly as possible. Fortunately for me, I was not destined to remain long in the tambo of Cochabamba, for on the following day I presented my letters of introduction, and soon had several kind offers of hospitality from various friends. Probably the reason why tambos are so badly furnished and attended to, is that it is the custom for travellers in Bolivia to quarter themselves on friends, and therefore there is not sufficient custom for good hotels. Had I arrived earlier in the day, I should have gone straight to the friends to whom I had been recommended; but, after all, I found that I had so many offers that, as I could not divide my time fairly amongst all the hospitable people who were willing to house me, I decided the difficulty by taking apartments, and secured a first floor in one of the best streets leading out of the principal square. My drawing-room was very large and lofty, and, being furnished in the usual South American style, with chairs, sofas, and a very small pedestal table, had quite a diplomatic look about it. The rent was alsoin diplomatic style, being sixty pesos faibles, or about £10 per month—quite enough, considering that no attendance or cooking was required, as I invariably took my meals with one or other of my acquaintances, and my boy prepared my morning coffee and attended to the rooms. More moderate apartments may be had in the city, but one cannot reckon upon getting a couple of decent rooms for less than thirty or forty pesos per month—say £5 to £8.
VIEW OF COCHABAMBA. (From a photograph.)
VIEW OF COCHABAMBA. (From a photograph.)
VIEW OF COCHABAMBA. (From a photograph.)
Cochabamba, probably the most important town of the republic of Bolivia, is situated in a plain 8450 feet above sea-level, overlooked by the rugged snow-clad heights of Tunari and Larati, whose giant tops rise fully 10,000 feet above the city. The townis well built, with regular streets, which all lead to the usual central plaza, in which are the government and municipal offices, and a cathedral that occupies nearly the whole of one side of the square. The public offices have a handsome colonnade extending over the foot pavement and running round two sides of the plaza, forming a promenade with good shelter either from sun or rain. There are in the city about 50,000 people, and amongst the upper classes are found many descendants of old Spanish families, but the bulk of the population are Indians of Quichuan or Aymará extraction. The language of society and commerce is Castilian, and the Indians of the town, who amongst themselves use their own tongue, whether Quichuan or Aymará, nearly all speak or understand Spanish; in the outlying villages and farms very few have been sufficiently educated to know any but their own language, and it therefore becomes necessary to have an interpreter for the journey from one town to another. These Indians present many features of interest, but their character and peculiarities are seen to greater advantage in their little homesteads on the mountains, and we shall have frequent opportunities of meeting with them outside the cities.
After many weeks of rough travelling, one of the greatest pleasures of arriving at Cochabamba is to meet with a well, nay, highly educated society, the fairer portion of which especially attract observation; for, apart from the natural charms with which “el bello sexo” of Spanish descent are largely endowed, the ladies of Cochabamba are generally accomplished musicians, while many are also goodlinguists, French and Italian being more in favour than English or German. But the “bello sexo” of Sucre, or Chuquisaca, as it is otherwise called, are generally considered to be more graceful and elegant than those of Cochabamba; so I must not part with all my praises for “las bellas Cochabambinas,” but reserve some for the fair Sucrenses, or Chuquisaqueñas. Many of the best houses are luxuriously furnished, and as all the furniture and appointments are either of American or European manufacture, the cost of an establishment must be very excessive, as everything has to be brought on mules or donkeys over the Andes from the ports of the Pacific coast. I saw several drawing-rooms in the city that had as much plate-glass and as many ornaments as are to be seen in a tastefully furnished house in London, and most houses of any pretensions have good pianos, which, costing perhaps £60 or £80 in Europe, are worth about £200 by the time they get to Cochabamba. At this rate, one can easily see that it must take a small fortune to furnish a house decently in the interior of the republic of Bolivia.
The chief wealth of the department appears to be in agriculture, for Cochabamba may certainly claim to be the agricultural capital of Bolivia, La Paz, Potosí, and Oruro being the chief mineral centres, whilst the true capital of the republic, Sucre, is the political and educational centre. Cochabamba is the storehouse for the crops of wheat, maize, barley, and potatoes that are grown on the plains on which the city is built. There are many large gardens in the outskirts of the town, whichproduce fruits of all kinds, such as grapes, oranges, apples, pears, peaches, apricots, and strawberries. Roses, carnations, camelias, and most European flowers are also grown, so that a visitor may easily fancy himself in the south of France, or even in a well-stocked garden at home, only that the latter idea must be of one of the finest summer days of England for the comparison to hold good at all, for it is almost impossible otherwise to compare the blue sky and fine clear atmosphere of Cochabamba with our own murky and cloudy skies. Nearly all the quintas, or country houses, are furnished with bathing arrangements, and have good gardens attached to them; but the one that took my fancy most was named “Maiorina,” a most valuable possession, or “finca,” as they are called. This finca not only has the largest and best stock of fruit and flowers, but it also has a really splendid douche bath. The house is built on a steep hill-side, and a small mountain stream of clear cold water is led by an aqueduct into the bath-house, which is dug out to a depth of perhaps twelve feet, and well lined with marble. The fall of water is about twenty feet, and as the stream enters the bath-house with a volume of about six inches deep by twelve inches in width, the blow received by the bather at the bottom is so severe that great caution is required to avoid exposing one’s head to the full force of the water. The stream has its rise in the snow that almost continually lies on the top of Tunari, and the water is therefore intensely cold—so much so, that to descend into the well of the bath nearly takes one’s breath away. The first effect of the cold upon me was togive an intense pain at the back of the head below the ears. I was therefore very cautious at first to keep clear of the big douche, and, holding my hands over my head, and bending forward somewhat in a diving attitude, receive the spray only, diverted from the main stream by the hands. I was told that several incautious bathers had been knocked down by the fall, and as the attendant does not remain in the bath-room, such an occurrence may easily end fatally. Notwithstanding the intense coldness of the water, and the fact that the bath is about three miles from the city, it is well frequented, and I saw many young ladies go with great regularity, although I should have thought the cold would have deterred them from bathing. The bath is the property of the owner of the Finca Maiorina, but he kindly allows the public to use it on payment of a reale each, or about 4½d., a payment which can only suffice to keep an attendant. The cost of construction and the repairs must be altogether at the expense of the proprietor, to whom all visitors to Cochabamba should be very grateful, for the bath is certainly a splendid luxury.
Cochabamba, like the generality of South American towns, has its “alaméda,” or place of public resort. To call these alamédas parks, would be misleading, for they are generally too small to be dignified with such a title, being more like some of the small parks or gardens that have of late years been made in the suburbs of London, on spots that were previously howling wastes, tenanted only by brickbats, dead cats, and street arabs. Certainly London has somewhat improved latterly in thematter of public enclosures, but still we could take a lesson in this respect from South America, where, when a town is commenced, almost the first thing projected is a plaza, or public square, and then an alaméda, or public garden; so that the town, as it grows, is sure of having some open breathing-places left unbuilt upon. Such a course might be adopted with great advantage in each of the rapidly built up suburban districts of London, where street is built close upon street, and terrace upon terrace, so that to get a breath of fresh air one is obliged to travel long distances to one of our noble parks, or right into the country. The alaméda of Cochabamba is just outside the town, and easily accessible on an evening or early morning stroll; it consists of four avenues made by poplar trees. But one cannot speak highly of the care bestowed on its preservation, for the walks are covered with a thick dust, which rises in clouds upon the slightest provocation. The entrance is through a gate or façade of considerable size, built of rough stonework, covered with plaster, on which, painted in bright and glaring colours, are representations, by a native artist, of some of the battles fought during the War of Independence, that ended in the break up of the empire of Spain in South America into the republics of the present day. Art in Bolivia does not appear to have risen to any great height, and therefore the frescoes and paintings by native artists that are to be seen in public places are not of a very high order of merit, and remind one forcibly of the cheap and highly coloured scenes sold at home for children’s portable theatres. The rules of perspective also appear to beabout as much known in Bolivia as they apparently are in China or Japan; so that the paintings have a mediæval or Byzantine look about them, which might perhaps be highly appreciated in certain high art circles of the present day.
The city is fairly furnished with shops, which do not, however, make any great show in the windows, the goods being laid out in large stores or warehouses. A few fondas and billiard-rooms have inferiortable d’hôtes, where the ordinary meals of the country can be procured, but the cuisine is of very third-rate character, and such places are therefore to be avoided if possible. Chocolate, sweets, and confectionery are plentiful and good, but the splendid ices that are to be had all through the year are the greatest luxury of Cochabamba. These are both cheap and good, and are made, it is said, from the snow always lying in the crevices of the heights of Tunari, from whence it is brought down by Indians for the ice-makers, who turn it into cream, vanilla, lemon, or strawberry ices, which meet with a ready sale during the heat of the mid-day and afternoon hours.
At the “tertulias,” or evening parties, which are quite an institution in Cochabamba, ices play an important part, along with tea, coffee, cigarettes, and small-talk. These tertulias are, to my mind, about the most dreary performances that a human being can be forced to assist at. It is the custom after dinner for the ladies of the house to take up their positions in rocking-chairs, a number of which are placed in a circle, generally near the open windows, except on the few occasions when theweather is unfavourable. Gentlemen friends are then expected to drop in promiscuously and, occupying the vacant chairs, provide the ladies with a feast of small-talk and scandal, which seems to be as much admired in the west of the world as it is in the east. Frequently these meetings take a political turn—and, indeed, one may almost say that they always do—for it is very rare to find more than one of the various parties of the day represented at a tertulia, as party spirit runs so high in the gloriously free republics, that it is not at all safe to differ in opinion with your neighbour at what would appear to be a friendly reunion. A stranger, of course, is not supposed to take any side in politics, but it is difficult to avoid being thought to be of the same party as one’s host; and it is therefore sometimes necessary to shift your opinions with every visit that you make during the course of the evening, as you are not expected to stay at any one house more than half an hour at the most, unless you are on very intimate terms with the family. To see a circle of say ten or a dozen people rocking away, some vigorously and others lackadaisically, while endeavouring to keep up a conversation, has a very funny look; but the motion of the chairs is so pleasant, that one soon falls in with the custom, and rocks as hard as any of the natives, though not able to join always in the chatting. The same kind of dreary visiting is practised on Sunday afternoons, from about two until four or five, during which hours polite and proper young men are to be seen hastening from house to house, got up in most elaborate style, and evidently makinga most serious business of a social duty that, if taken more leisurely, would be a pleasure. A peculiarity I noticed particularly at these tertulias was, that each of the ladies present was addressed by the title of “señorita.” Whatever her age or position in life, married or single, rich or poor, all are señoritas in Bolivia. It used to sound excessively funny to hear an old lady, perhaps a grandmamma, called “señorita,” whilst the same term was used for her granddaughters; but, as in Rome one must do as Romans do, so, in Bolivia, a traveller who wishes to be thought polite and cultivated must be careful to address all Bolivianas by the style and title of “señorita.”
There are many commercial firms of considerable standing, the principal being three German houses, who make very large importations of European manufactures. All these goods have to be brought on mules’ backs from the ports of the Pacific coast over the Andes, and are therefore greatly enhanced in value by the time they get to be exposed for sale in the merchant’s store, the freight from the port of Arica to the interior of the republic varying from £40 to £80 per ton of twenty quintals of 100 Spanish pounds each, according to the season or the class of goods. A ton would be about eight mule-loads, and taking beer or wine as an example, we find that the cost of the freight of a case of any liquor from the Pacific coast would be £1 5s., and at times £2 10s., while the first cost at home of a case of beer would not perhaps be more than 10s.or 12s.
In consequence of this excessively high cost offreighting, the exports of Bolivia are limited almost entirely to the richest portions of the minerals with which the interior of the country abounds, and to “cascarilla,” or the bark of the cinchona tree. Bolivia enjoys an almost total monopoly of this latter valuable product, which received the name of Peruvian bark, because Bolivia itself was called Alto Peru before the War of Independence; but, at the present time, I think it may safely be asserted that all the Peruvian bark that is exported from Peru is collected in the forests of the province of Caupolican in Bolivia.[3]Indeed, so localized is the cinchona tree, being only found over, comparatively speaking, a small tract of country, that it may be feared that in a few years it will become almost extinct, as the tree dies after the bark has been stripped from it. The government of Bolivia—that is to say, whenever there is any central power worth calling a government—is always satisfied with collecting the export duties on the “cascarilla,” and takes no steps whatever to ensure the replanting of the forests, but seems to be satisfied with prohibiting the export of plants or seeds, and thinks thus to keep the valuable trade to the country, ignoring totally the fact that the day is fast approaching when all the cinchona trees will have been killed, and a trade that might, with very little care, have been a continuous source of revenue, will be entirely lost. But this short-sighted policy is pursued in Bolivia in every branch of revenue. Even the sumsreceived from farming the tolls on the roads, such as they are, have to be sent to the provincial or central treasuries, and not a cent is spent in repairs until the road gets into a totally impassable condition, when a few spasmodic efforts are made, and the smallest amount possible is laid out, in order that the cash shall only be diverted from the public treasury for as short a time as may be.
Notwithstanding the difficulties under which trade is carried on in Bolivia, the merchants appear to do a flourishing business, and some of the best firms keep up princely establishments, and generally have branches in all the chief towns of the republic. The foreigners resident in Bolivia are somewhat exclusive in their social life, and although on friendly terms with the townspeople, it is only on certain occasions that one sees a mixed company of Bolivians and Europeans. But I noticed that this exclusiveness only referred to dinner-parties—a class of entertainment for which the European residents evidently do not think the Bolivians sufficiently well educated. There is, it must be allowed, good reason for thinking so, as the manners and customs of a Bolivian dinner-table differ in many essential points from a European one. For instance, salt-cellars are not often provided with salt-spoons; one’s own knife being thought to be all that is wanted for carving the joint, serving vegetables, and helping one’s self to salt, pepper, or mustard. Similarly, table or gravy spoons are almost unknown, as every one helps himself to soup or gravy with his own spoon. These little peculiarities, doubtless, account for the almost generalabsence of European guests at Bolivian tables, andvice versâ. At balls or soirées it is, of course, absolutely necessary that ladies should be, if not in a majority, at least well represented; and as there are not sufficient European ladies in any town even for a quadrille, it is upon these occasions that one gets a chance of seeing the ladies of the country to the greatest advantage. The German merchants do not seem to admire the “bello sexo” of Bolivia sufficiently to be often caught in the matrimonial net, and any bold adventurer who falls captive to the charms of a fair Boliviana, and accepts her for better or worse, is by his fellow-countrymen rather thought to have made a mistake. Frequently the balls and parties are got up in an impromptu manner, and then they are really delightful. I remember one of these, at which, after dancing till nearly midnight, a moonlight ride was proposed, and immediately put into execution. There was no lack of horses, and, through the kindness of one of my German friends, I was excellently well mounted; and away we started, about half a dozen ladies and a dozen cavaliers. Through the quiet town we rode at a good pace, and out across the plain to a lagoon, then entirely dry, where we ran races by the bright moonlight, and let off some rockets and crackers that one of the Germans had brought with him. We passed our pocket-flasks round, the ladies also not disdaining a small nip to keep them from catching cold with the night air, and then back to town, having thoroughly enjoyed the ride.
The foreign residents in Cochabamba alwaysreceive travellers with the greatest kindness and hospitality, and for my part I shall always retain the liveliest memories of the good time I spent with them. By one of the principal German firms I was received quite as a friend, although I was not provided with letters of introduction to the house. The establishment I refer to was throughout kept up on a most magnificent scale, and the arrangements of the various rooms, such as dining, billiard, and smoking and reading rooms, were as complete and as well ordered as many a club at home. An American firm of contractors for public works, and owners of the coaches that run from Cochabamba to Arani through the valley of Cliza, have a fine house and workshops just on the outskirts of the city, and are, far and away, the most hospitable men it has ever been my lot to meet with; indeed, I do not call to mind ever having seen such an open house kept up anywhere else. So truly hospitable are these worthy Americans, that they expect every English-speaking traveller who passes through Cochabamba to go direct to their house, and just take up his quarters there, as though he were an old friend of years’ standing. I was an entire stranger to them, and did not know of this excellent custom of theirs, and so I fear that I involuntarily offended them by going to the tambo instead of to their establishment; however, I did my best afterwards to make up for lost time, by eating as many breakfasts and dinners with them as possible, for they certainly kept the best cook in Cochabamba. Every day these good fellows have meals prepared for at least half a dozen more people than they have staying withthem at the moment, so that they are always prepared to receive casual droppers-in, and on Sundays I have seen a score or so of self-invited guests sit down to a first-rate breakfast, excellent in character and quality, both in eatables and drinkables, and the meal has gone on just as though it had been specially prepared for the occasion. Long life to these hospitable Yankees, say I, and may their shadow never be less! and I am sure that every one who knows them personally will echo my wish for their prosperity and success.
While praising the hospitality of the foreigners resident in Cochabamba, I must not forget that shown me by many of the native families of the town, lest it should be thought that the Bolivians are behind their European friends in this respect. By all the Bolivians with whom I came in contact, I was received with the greatest cordiality, and by one family, to the head of which I had been specially recommended by Don Ignacio Bello of Trinidad, I was received quite as one of the family circle, which I take to be about the greatest compliment that can be paid to a stranger. My host, in this case, was a travelled and highly educated man, while his charming señora was of one of the best families of La Paz, and they had evidently improved greatly upon the general manners and customs of the country, for their table was always well appointed, and bountifully supplied with good things.
Cochabamba has a small theatre, but there is no regular company, and travelling ones seldom visit the town, as it is out of the principal routes of travel. During my stay, there was an amateur performanceby young men, who took both male and female parts; but their acting was childish and nonsensical in the extreme, and the townsfolk seemed to be of the same opinion, for the amateurs played to empty benches.
The climate of Cochabamba may, in my opinion, be classed amongst the finest of the world, as it enjoys an almost perpetual summer, whilst the nights are pleasantly cool, and therefore invigorating to constitutions depressed by the humid heat of the Madeira and Amazon valleys. There seems to be but little difference all the year round. Certain months have more rain than others, the wettest months being November to January, but even then the rain only falls in the shape of good heavy showers, lasting, perhaps, an hour or so, when the sun breaks out again. A thoroughly wet day, with rain falling from morn till night, is a great rarity in Cochabamba, although at higher and lower altitudes, in the same parallel of latitude, such days are of frequent occurrence, while the central plains of Bolivia seem to have just a desirable amount of rainfall and no more.
Few towns could be mentioned that are more advantageously situated, from a hygienic point of view; indeed, I should say that a “City of Health” might be established at Cochabamba with very good results. Fever and ague are quite unknown, and if sanitary matters were attended to, it might soon be said that the place was quite free from diseases of any kind; but unfortunately, at present, such sicknesses as small-pox and scarlet fever are got rid of with difficulty, owing to the filthy habits of atleast four-fifths of the natives of the place, who seem to be quite without any notions of public cleanliness. There are no sewers or drains of any kind whatever, and consequently the state of the whole city, with the exception of a few of the principal squares and main thoroughfares, which are swept every day by a gang of prisoners from the town jail, can be easier imagined than described. Vaccination also is much neglected, and consequently, when an outbreak of this dreadful scourge occurs, it rapidly takes vast dimensions, and great numbers suffer and die, for the Indian blood seems to cause the disease to take its most virulent form.
A town like this offers a most favourable opportunity for showing clearly the advantages afforded by a dry earth system of sewage to cities destitute of a plentiful supply of water. A president who would introduce this beneficent system into Bolivia would, in my opinion, confer a far greater favour on his country than any of its rulers have hitherto succeeded in doing. It will, perhaps, scarcely be credited, that even in the best establishments there are no closets or other receptacles for house refuse; indeed, in my experience throughout the country, such a convenience never came to my notice, excepting in the houses of the foreign residents. There is a back yard to most houses, which I can only describe as a dreadful cloaca maxima, and this horrid place is frequented by all the members of the family, without distinction of age or sex. The house refuse is thrown in this yard, and although pigs, dogs, mules, and any other animals that may be on the establishment are turned loose therein, the hot sunseems left to do the work of a disinfectant, except that an occasional sweeping takes place, when the rubbish that remains is set fire to, and burned to ashes.
When one sees such a dreadful want of the commonest knowledge of sanitary matters amongst a society otherwise sufficiently cultivated, one is almost tempted to think that there must be something fundamentally wrong in the educational system of the country; and certainly it must be set down as a great blot upon the teachings of the Roman Catholic clergy of South America, that they have not taught their flocks the elementary principle that “cleanliness is next to godliness.” The people are, however, so apathetic, and so thoroughly wedded to their customs, that probably a revolution might be threatened to any president who should endeavour to make a law of common decency obligatory in the republic. Perhaps, however, it has been thought that sewers are beyond the financial resources of the towns; and there may be another good reason, namely, that an abundant supply of water is not to be depended upon all the year round. But dry earth is always at hand, and therefore it seems at once apparent that Moule’s system would confer great blessings upon all the communities, if it were thoroughly carried out.
Very little has been done in mining in the immediate neighbourhood of Cochabamba, as from its great distance from the coast the carriage of any but the richest silver ores would be too expensive to leave any profit for the miner. There is, however, without doubt, immense wealth in minerals in all the hills encircling the plain in which the citystands, and, in proof of this, I was shown many specimens of manganese, silver, and lead ores that had been taken from the outcrop of the lodes in the district. These minerals must remain unexplored until the railway and navigation of the Madeira valley shall have opened up Eastern Bolivia, and caused good roads to be made from the head-waters of the Madeira and Amazon to the interior of the republic.
The people of Cochabamba, of all classes and shades of public opinion, are resolved to do all that lies in their power to assist this enterprise to completion, for they see in it their only hope of emancipating themselves from the heavy costs and charges levied upon all their European necessities by the merchants of La Paz and the Peruvian ports on the Pacific coast, as also their only hope of securing an outlet for those abundant agricultural products that are now lost for want of customers.
FOOTNOTES[3]The average yearly shipments of Peruvian bark from Arica amount to 9611 cwts., of 100 lbs. each, having a cash value at the port of about £118,300. (See Appendix, p. 400.)
[3]The average yearly shipments of Peruvian bark from Arica amount to 9611 cwts., of 100 lbs. each, having a cash value at the port of about £118,300. (See Appendix, p. 400.)
[3]The average yearly shipments of Peruvian bark from Arica amount to 9611 cwts., of 100 lbs. each, having a cash value at the port of about £118,300. (See Appendix, p. 400.)