My memories of Sucre are colored by the fact that I was feeling ill for most of the time (I will probably never find out why they always give you infusions when you go to foreign hospitals.), so I didn’t even manage to see much more than the market, our Homestay and the way to my spanish school.
Feeling very untouristy eating at the market, but leave your fingers of the salad. They wash it in the river an not even the locals eat it without getting stomach issues.
The chief. One of dozens and though not the healthiest it was delicious food.
Shopping leek. We emptied the the place of it, because nobody in our homestay ever tried it before.
Our favourite place in the central market, the fruit juice stands. You get everything freshly made with our without milk and/or sugar, if you ask for it.
Yummi and it always comes with a second helping.
Zebras explaining how to use zebra crossing and jumping in front of moving cars, if their driver are to ignorant (of course the crossing are also equipped with traffic lights just lines on the ground would never work).
My spanish teacher. Did a good job on me, now I only need to practise.
But as far as I can judge Sucre is quite a clean, quite and safe place. And even tough the name „Sucre“ doesn’t have anything to do with sugar the white buildings in the center somehow reminded you of icing on a cake.
Sucre lies, like most andean cities in a valley, where the centre is the lowest point and the poorer districts crawl up the hill sides.
The white houses of Sucre. I assume the have a decree against colored wall paint.
What really made a difference was our stay with Bertha and her little family. We spend in total two weeks in her Homestay, playing with Coco the lovable dog that hates locals but loves foreigners, cooking food with Bertha and other guest, saw Bolivian movies and playing Volleysquash also called Squallyball a mix between squash and volleyball. In the end we really had a hard time leaving.
Coco would immediately lay down spread his legs and ask for cuddle units from you.
One of the many dinner gatherings in Bertha’s kitchen.
Because Bertha is a big fan of this german dish, I made my first lentils soup. A little piece from home.
Playing squallyball is really fun, quite physical demanding and played by Tom leaves you some bruises.
