Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia: The Last Two Days

In the center of town is a city-blocked size park with benches, people eating ice cream ignoring the homeless, and gorgeous palm trees. It seemed that everywhere we want to walk, the directions start with, "Go up to the park." Click on the photos for full size images.


The Basilica Menor de San Lorenzo weighs down one side of the park with it's massive brickwork from the 1600's.

As we approach the church doors, I see a blind man in a wheelchair. Just barely cupped, his palm lies on his lap facing the heavens in hope that someone will help. He reminds me of my grandfather in that he's obviously well kept and tries to hold his back as straight as possible. His shoulders are just barely bent over. I wonder what time his keeper comes for him. Does someone come out from the church to give him a snack or a drink?


On Sunday morning, we leave the hotel after a breakfast of fruit and cookies. Cookies? We finally realize why everyone's been weaving palm fronds. It's Palm Sunday.


Now they are lining the streets with their weavings and some have wheelbarrows full of Easter candy. This is a celebration of phenomenal proportions.


Two blocks from the church we come upon thousands of people in a procession. The ones in front have a cross draped with white cloth. They're singing and walking. And then it happens. The goober with the cross gets it tangled. The priest with the red sash has to come extricate Jesus from the wires. The singing STOPS. I'm sure God laughed even if they didn't.

The procession passes and we continued our walk around the city. Nothing is open. Good thing we're headed home tonight. A day early, but I've learned enough for one trip.