Get Thee to the Nunnery

K prepared us a hearty dish of Spanish omelette and bread for breakfast this morning.

Eggy goodness

Taking a walk around town, we attempted to visit some of the smaller museums and cultural spaces, but found ourselves thwarted by inexplicably closed doors or imprecise directions.

Waiting for the afternoon tour at the Convent of Santa Teresa, we settled in at Mocafé in a charming hidden courtyard off Calle España.

Cream with everything

The convent is a nunnery of the Carmelite order and is essentially a church within a church, as the first building was never completed - most notably its roof - and the original architects absconded with the plans, so a second building was constructed around the first. The convent currently houses six nuns, significantly less than the decreed maximum of 21.

Convento Santa Teresa

Little is known about the early days of the convent, so our guide conjectured about a number of things, although could not offer a reason for the curious sight of six Marias, one of which is blindfolded. However, a passageway where marks from fingernails were found is assumed to have been blocked off for incarceration and punishment of the sisters.

A hierarchy was developed within the convent - some sisters had to pay for entry (a dowry), while some received rooms twice the size as others, as well as other privileges, depending on their family's social status. The hierarchy was apparent by the sisters' dress, some of whom wore black veils, while others wore white.

For a long while since the convent's inauguration in 1760, it was common for families to send their second daughter to the convent. It was a great privilege for the family left behind, but I'm not sure about for those inside.

Absolutely no contact with the outside world was permitted. When hearing mass or singing in the choir, the sisters would sit in a separate room, veiled off from the public space and the priests. Confession and communion would be taken in a similarly segregated fashion. A small revolving door in the wall of the convent would allow the nuns to exchange goods and money with the outside world, whether buying or selling. When talking to visitors, such as family, no visual contact was allowed and a "listening nun" would eavesdrop on all conversations and report back to the Mother Superior. Only in extreme cases would a doctor be allowed to see and treat to a nun.

Nowadays, the nuns can choose whether to cloister themselves away or to make their own way through the streets of Cochabamba. Despite the other restrictions, I almost envied the nuns as we made our way to the marketplace today, which seemed especially busy and chaotic today, as it straddles two sides of a main road that was clogged with people, cars and an endless stream of micros - shared minivan buses advertising their destination in the front window.

Having stocked up, dinner was a spicy rice soup made with mote blanco (a supersized, chewy corn), tomatoes and green beans. Some ají amarillo (yellow pepper) sauce we bought from the market gave a Tabasco-like flavour to the soup but was disappointingly mild. A dose of red locoto pepper (much like a Scotch bonnet) soon upped the Scovilles.

A pair of Stiers

The soup went well with beers from Stier brewery bought at the Spitting Llama bookshop and outfitters (and purveyors of craft beer). Stier is apparently an enterprise of three enterprising ex-pats now married to Cochabambinas. The more interesting labels are also designed locally by Arte Urquidi. Their honey beer tasted more like a wheat beer, but was incredibly moreish, while the strong ale (7.5%) lacked the richness of the Belgian style, instead favouring a vinous taste.