Coming to the Table: Salchipapas, Palta, and Learning to Learn

I am going to blame it on the altitude, but oh man, I have never had so many antojos (cravings) as I have had since my time in La Paz. Truly, I probably spend half my time dreaming of the different street food I am going to eat throughout the day. While Bolivia is not necessarily known for its culinary genius, the country has got a few gems – food that may not sound so appetizing at first glance melts in your mouth and changes your life all within a few seconds.

Near Calle 12 of Obrajes is a tiny indoor food market. The first “restaurant” on the left as you walk in serves, what I think must be, the best sandwiches de palta y pollo in La Paz. The first day I ordered from the sandwich shop I tried to hand her my money as she simultaneously handed me my sandwich. “No, no, no, señorita, pay after you eat,” she reprimanded me with a smile. And, suddenly, I did not feel so foreign but rather a trusted and loved customer.

Another, and a bit more adventurous, night, I trusted a Bolivian friend – “Alexis, you have got to try the best anticucho in the city.” So, the next night, there I was, climbing down stairs in a huge market hidden underneath the street. A friendly women with blood splattered all over her apron handed me the traditional dish of cow heart, boiled potatoes, and spicy peanut sauce. “Quieres comer con un tenedor o como una paceña?” Seconds later, my fingers were covered in peanut sauce as I fished out a piece of heart to eat. “Eres una paceña de oro,” she laughed.

Maybe street food seems like a silly or unimportant thing to write about, but for me, lining up late at night behind businessmen and children and Amaryan women is a type of ethnography. And it is with salchipapas in hand or while waiting impatiently for a double serving of anticucho I feel like I have learned most about Bolivia. It has not come without a few upset stomachs or being served a few types of food I had to swallow as fast as I could, but oh man, has the possible food poisoning and uncertainty of what I was ordering been worth it.

Handing my 10 Bolivianos over to women with dirty hands, laughing with the cook as I looked up with peanut sauce dripping down my face, foregoing the fork, and stuffing the bag as full as possible with banana chips – I am learning to love and appreciate and take part in La Paz, one meal at a time.