Arrival in Santa Cruz de la Sierra

May 3, 2025By maverickbirdPosted in Bolivia, Outside India, South America

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I arrived in Bolivia at Santa Cruz de la Sierra. It was completely on the other side of the planet from my home country, and its hitherto unknown culture excited me to no end. Exceptionally endowed with natural beauty, history, colonial past, and vibrant culture, this South American country was a backpacker’s dream. Cheap and traveler-friendly, Bolivia hummed with things to do and was home to some of the most beautiful national parks and extreme adventures (Amazon, Andes, Lake Titicaca, the list is endless). Although at times it had tested my endurance far more than I had expected, Bolivia till now remains one of my all-time favourite travel destinations.

Arrival in Santa Cruz de la Sierra

My flight path (owing to free tickets) to Bolivia’s financial hub of Santa Cruz de la Sierra was circuitous enough to have put Columbus to shame, and it lasted for more than a day. A 5-hour Emirates flight took me from Calcutta to Dubai, where I roamed around the transit hall for 7 hours. Later, another insanely long (more than 10 hours) Emirates flight made me reach Buenos Aires via Sao Paolo, where for 11 hours I haunted the transit area again. My onward Aerolineas Argentinas connection was delayed by 14 hours, and by the time I left for Santa Cruz de la Sierra, I knew all the security officers by their first names.

Crazy long flights, tedious transit wait, and lost baggage

The 3-hour flight to Santa Cruz de la Sierra’s Viru Viru International Airport was horrible with terrible in-flight service, uncomfortable seats, and turbulence. By the time I finally reached my destination, I had evolved into a disoriented sleepwalking zombie. To reach from one colonial city in India to another one in Bolivia, I had flown like a bird for more than 30 hours and somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, had lost track of time and date. As luck would have it, Aerolinas Argentinas ended up misplacing my bag and sending it back to Dubai, and I landed in beautiful Santa Cruz de la Sierra with only the clothes that I had on me.

My first morning

Anyway, sleep deprived and jet-lagged, I had just about enough energy to collect an airline receipt for tracing lost bags, breeze through the visa section (Bolivia offers Visa on Arrival for Indian passport holders for 30 Euros), and tumble out into a silvery Spanish dawn. My passport had caused much excitement among the immigration officers, and they shook their heads incredulously at my madness. I was probably the only Indian female solo traveler who was visiting Bolivia for tourism from India, and they were not ready to let me go before quenching their curiosity about my country. However, I was too unusually bright-eyed and disoriented from jet lag to give sane responses and suffered from a very unreal feeling about actually being in my dream destination, Bolivia. Excitement rushed through my veins, and when the reality finally dawned on me, I nearly hugged myself in joy.

Santa Cruz de la Sierra, a melting pot of cultures

Located at the steamy foothills of the Andean mountains, Santa Cruz de la Sierra is a beautiful colonial city and the cultural (and financial) hub of Bolivia. I liked the easy tropical charm of the city and used it as a jumping-off base for my grand South American sojourn. Santa Cruz’s rise had been sudden and meteoric, almost overnight. Once a forgotten frontier town, Santa Cruz de la Sierra became an economic powerhouse in the middle of the 20th century when its oil, gas, timber, cattle, and agro industries boomed. Suddenly, people from all over the country and the world flocked to this charming town, and German Mennonites, Cuban doctors, Japanese agro-industrialists, Brazilian immigrants, and very distinct Cambas (Inca word for Eastern Lowlanders) and Collas (Inca word for Highlanders) called it home. From white washed colonnaded and tiled grand houses of the old city to sprawling mansions of the moneyed, Santa Cruz de la Sierra was very different from a typical Bolivian city.

Why do I love Santa Cruz de la Sierra

I chose it for its sensuous tropical lifestyle, easy, relaxed attitude, and in spite of its economic strength, its charming small-town feel. Taxis queued outside the airport terminal and, contrary to most travel stories, charged the fixed rate, i.e, 50 bolivianos. A bright smile and rapid Spanish from my taxi driver (mistaken identity since my Indian looks did not differ much from the Bolivian girls) welcomed me to Bolivia, and scurrying mini ostriches outside the terminal were my first sight of the incredible country. The sun rose quickly as we sped towards the city, and a beautiful blue sky silhouetted against the profusely flowering toborochi trees.

The tale of the toborochi tree

Also known as pregnant trees for their swollen trunks, toborochis are found in many parts of the world, and in Bolivia, a lovely myth is attributed to their unusual shape. It is believed that when the world was still very new, Ana, the spirits of darkness, used to abuse and murder humans. When they found out that Aravera, who had married the god Colibri (hummingbird), was pregnant with a child who would kill them, Ana decided to kill her. She fled from them on a flying seat, gifted by her husband, and finally sought shelter in the urn-shaped trunk of a toborochi tree. There, Aravera gave birth to her son in peace and stayed hidden until her death. The boy grew up and, as prophesied, punished Ana for imprisoning his mother inside a tree trunk for life. It is said that Aravera, who forever lies buried inside the toborochi trunk, escapes in the form of flowers and keeps in touch with her husband, who visits her in the form of hummingbirds.

A jumping off base

It was a beautiful tale to start a lovely morning with, and I hopelessly fell in love with Bolivia at first sight. Laid back traffic met my eyes, and billboards advertising fat juicy pollo (chicken), Huari beer, and Entel mobile phone connection fought for space along the road. It was autumn and mildly cold, and as I slowly donned my Spanish eyes to take in a very foreign beauty, a slight pang of homesickness tugged at my heart. I was very far from home and very alone, but it did not feel bad. On the contrary, it felt very liberating and I revelled in the anonymity. The impression of that feeling stuck on and marked the beginning of my nomadic solo wanderings. Although at that time traveling was my profession, it was always cocooned with accompanying colleagues, hotel, and airline representatives. My backpacking trails in a completely different culture, in every aspect, started with Bolivia.

Walking around Santa Cruz de la Sierra

I reached the city center, checked into a quaint Petit Apart hotel, and went out for a morning walk. The hotel was located at the main 24 September Plaza, and the city was still asleep when I walked around it. I came back totally blank after a short walk, had a light breakfast, and slept for 1 day. Later, when I explored the city in depth, I loved its whimsical mix of colonial and indigenous beauty. Set in circles, Santa Cruz de la Sierra was very pretty and tropical. Cobbled streets, colonial buildings, and the lovely flower-filled square rendered it a vintage aura, and glimpses of unique ethnic life down its lanes made it exotically colourful. Founded in 1561 by Spanish explorer Nuflo de Chavez, Santa Cruz de la Sierra showed off a heavy colonial influence in everything, although a strong underlying indigenous influence persisted. Senoritas in tight glamorous clothes, high heels, and makeup strutted around while young senores pumped loud music from their car speakers. Bright-eyed babies peeped out of colourful Aztec printed shawls from their mothers’ backs as they sold fruit juices, mochachinchi (peach drink with whole dried peaches), and refreshing chicha (corn drink) from makeshift tables at every street corner.

My favourite Santa Cruz de la Sierra memories

My strongest Bolivian memories are of its incredible food, and I loved the way the streets smelled delicious. Mouth-watering aromas of empanadas and humitas mingled with the fresh fragrance of multi coloured heaps of fruits sold from wheelbarrows. Santa Cruz de la Sierra city walks were not easy for me since my Spanish was rudimentary, and there were not many English speakers around. I always got tired out after the end of the walks and loved relaxing in my hotel room. My hotel owner was a 70-year-old man who did not understand a word of English, he always enjoyed holding monologues with me. He took a long time to get over his shock of having an Indian guest from India, and regularly treated me with some of his wife’s cooking.

I too liked their homely company, authentic Bolivian food, and for 25 USD found a great temporary home at Petit Apart Hotel. I stayed in Santa Cruz de la Sierra for 2 weeks and every night used to thank my stars for my cozy pastel coloured room with frilly furnishings, super soft bed, free wifi (to stay in touch with home), and luck. My South American sojourn taught me one of life’s most valuable lessons, and that was gratitude. Each day as I went exploring the city in parts, wandering around its colonnaded streets and making local friends, their incredulous looks at my nationality made me realize how lucky I indeed was. Everybody loves traveling and wants to break free from the daily grind, yet not many can do so for various reasons. There I was, not a rich man’s daughter, yet blessed enough to be able to experience the succulent empanada (fried pastry stuffed with juicy meat and vegetables) with freshly squeezed orange juice under a Bolivian sun.