Why did McDonald’s fail in Bolivia? Blame the saltena

It’s the entirely unscientific, anecdotal judgement that not very many Europeans or North Americans will have visited Bolivia on which I assess this article by the Andean Information Network, pondering a film that has raised debate about why McDonald’s exited that country.

A snack stand, Ivirgazama, Chapare, Bolivia. 2007.

 

A fair few articles have appeared on this topic in news outlets in both those continents following the release of the documentary Por qué quebró McDonald’s en Bolivia (Why did McDonald’s Bolivia go Bankrupt?), in which Fernando Martinez attempts to explain the reason fast-food Evil Staypuft McDonald’s pulled out of Bolivia after only a few years in operation there. The film hasn’t got a release date in the UK yet so all I’ve been able to access is the trailer on YouTube; the documentary looks really interesting (though neither the Israeli company that produced it nor possible hosts to a UK showing like Canning House reply to my requests for information), but its release has stirred some silliness. As the AIN starts to point out quite rightly in this piece, a flurry of news articles from news outlets saying that McDonald’s closed its last restaurant in Bolivia in December 2011 were not only entirely wrong – Maccy D’s closed all its stores in Bolivia by 2002 – but seemed to spring somehow from the release of the documentary. Someone, somewhere, somehow got the idea that McDonald’s was pulling its final restaurant from Bolivia in December 2011 and put this out as breaking news. And from that tiny seed came a torrent of cut and paste ‘breaking news’ stories from other platforms.

Once they reached my laptop I was mightily confused: when I was in Bolivia in 2007 I was aware that there were no MacDonald’s in Bolivia, but I had walked past the Burger King in Cochabamba to much amusement – it was empty. Obviously, those in Bolivia were more likely to be in possession of the facts, but reporters further afield would have had to make gargantuan efforts – such as Googling for MacDonald’s press office phone number, picking up the phone, ringing them and asking for corroboration of this alleged breaking news – to find out if it was true. Readers in North America and Europe, quite a few of whom probably haven’t even heard of Bolivia, can’t be expected to know. For that reason there haven’t been many reporters writing about why and how so many news outlets followed the original Pied Piper of this fake news story into the stinking river of churnalism.

Good on AIN for noting the blooper, but the piece quite mysteriously changes angle half way through to talk about the question the documentary addresses on just why McDonald’s exited Bolivia. Gleaning what little I can from words written by those who appear to have seen it, most theories centre on it simply being unprofitable – well, it’s one of the world’s poorest countries – or the more intriguing idea that Bolivians just don’t like the idea of fast food.

Again AIN does point out that Subway and Burger King continue to serve in Bolivian cities, which somewhat discredits the idea that McD’s found no money to be made there. The second theory is easily dispatched with. First of all though, it must be said that people who’ve got no concept of this place called ‘Bolivia’ except an image of poor, brown-skinned people herding llamas can be forgiven for imagining that Bolivians might well reject the notion of fast food as we Europeans know it. Based on time I have spent in Bolivia, what I can add to the debate is the idea that Bolivians are as ferociously devoted to fast food as the Yanks or the Europeans. The reason they may not have taken to McD’s could well be that they have their own pre-existing types of fast food, and that they are a damn sight tastier, more diverse, cheaper, more readily available, easier to make and better suited to Bolivian life. If someone right this second offered me the choice of a McChicken sandwich or a couple of freshly made morning saltenas with a little spoon of picante and a fistful of serviettes to wipe way the juice, my peripheral vision would close in on the saltena and simply occlude the McChicken sandwich from my view and my desires.

A saltena looks like a palm-sized, American Football-shaped calzone or Cornish pasty – actually, someone should look into why these three snacks from different corners of the Earth are so similar – consisting of a mishmash of boiled egg, perhaps some chicken, chillies, maybe an olive or two, garlic, onion, sugar and spices, and perhaps some parsley baked into a pocket of golden pastry. So perfectly conceived, these little handfuls of heaven are commonly eaten in Bolivia and Argentina (from whence they allegedly originate – specifically Salta, a city in the north; hence the name) and are commonly eaten for breakfast on the run. They’re so ubiquitous, sold in saltenaria, on the streets, in markets and from holes in the wall outlets for a couple of pesos or Bolivianos, so easy to turn out and sell, and so incredibly moreish that I can quite see the challenge posed to the Big Mac – positively flaccid looking in comparison.

When I was working at Los Tiempos newspaper and in the office of a volunteering company in Cochabamba in 2007, once of the most enjoyable parts of generally very enjoyable days was the morning dash past the little bakery on Calle Sucre to grab two or three saltenas; a 1.50 Bolivianos each, I always had enough change on me to indulge (I got into the habit of always having nine Bolivianos in change on me, enough for two saltenas, the bus ride to work, back home for lunch, back to work and back home again). Although they are famed for inconveniencing their purchaser with an uncontrollable ejaculate of orange-hued juice that inevitably bursts from within their just-out-of-the-oven shells as you bite into it – splashing your nice new shirt and running down your chin if you don’t master the skill of wrapping it in a napkin and catching the drips before they embarass you -you only need one hand to eat a saltena, surely a critical design feature of any true fast food.

Compared to anything McDonald’s does, the saltena is genuinely food that is fast; I gobbled mine down single-handedly on the way to work, or at my desk while using my other hand to type or point and laugh at gap-year students. In a land where so many people live on a few Bolivianos a day – some of those in transit on long, uncomfortable bus journeys transporting goods across the country or carting bags of shopping home from market – the saltena is a prime example of design matched perfectly to the needs of its local populace. The Filet O’ Fish, meanwhile, could conceivably have taken many more megawatts to produce and carry a much larger carbon footprint (if only because of the bespoke machines needed to turn out high volumes of highly standardised products and the cost of getting them to Bolivia. I’ll take a punt and say they were not built in Bolivia).

As far as I know (and I have done some research), there is no national or even large regional company turning out saltenas to standardised form or recipe and making overnight deliveries to its own chain of restaurants. There are small businesses who supply local shops with their saltenas locally, as there are variations between cities and provinces in the taste. There is such a thing as a saltena wrapper available for purchase, basically a flap of pastry ready-made to construct saltenas.

The saltena is just one example of the rich fast food offerings Bolivians enjoy on a daily basis, and have done since long before McDonald’s turned up. Contrary to the European or North American idea of Bolivia as a country of semi-starving people – not to understate the poverty that many live in there – it’s my experience that Bolivians are passionate foodies who have fashioned a range of fresh, but fast snackfoods to be eaten on the go, and for pennies. Having not industrialised them, and with regional variations, they remain diverse and tasty enough to put any foreign comers at risk of not competing.

There is the empanada, a larger, greasier version of the saltena mostly comprising cheese and served hot to eat on the go at bus stops, on the way to work and so on; but even foods that need you to sit still at a counter to eat is conceived around getting in and getting out. Before catching a bus out of the town, I dined at a food market in Potosi among hordes of time-pressured stallholders wolfing down a steaming bowl of stew. I don’t know precisely what was in it, but it definitely contained heaps of soft pasta cuffs and quinoa, some veggies and meat that fell apart with the spicy juice it was cooked in. I was done in ten minutes and on my way to the station a few Bolivianos later, ready for my 7 hour bus ride.

If I had wanted something greasy, Bolivians have long had the art of the filthy burger down pat – no pun intended. Most bus or train stations, markets and street stalls offer the good old burger in a bun shat on by an billowing turd of mayonnaise and ketchup, and they sometimes forego the separate fries to jemmy a handful of salty mini-fries, with fried onions, in-between burger and bun. Aside from price and convenience, their burger has one other critical advantage over the McDonald’s or Burger King’s equivalent – at your request, a fried egg rammed in for good measure. 

Why did McDonald’s leave Bolivia? My guess is that it just couldn’t compete with the true fast food that already dominates Bolivian life. Hopefully this documentary will be brought to the UK and I can hear the arguments for myself.

Los Tiempos: An end to the second-hand clothing market boom?

This was my first piece for Los Tiempos and remains probably my proudest moment. Looking back I can’t recall how I managed to interview and write a newspaper feature in Spanish.

This was the assignment that introduced me to what is now an all-consuming topic in my mind, and it showed me that I could grasp and accurately analyse the contemporary economic issues of a country I knew nothing about. It’s my feature on the legislation to make Bolivia’s trade in used clothing illegal, looking at what people thought of the ban and what might happen as a result (clue: in Bolivia, bringing a law in doesn’t mean something is going to stop).

Have a read.

The end of used clothing: The middle classes must buy Bolivian to legitimise our economy, manufacturers say

This morning, house-wives from all over Cochabamba – from campesinos, to working class mums, to well-married women of more means with fashion-conscious teenage children to satisfy – have both hands thrust into billowing stalls of imported second hand sweaters and pants up and down La Pampa market. These women have the same mission as mothers all over the world: to see that their families are dressed in as close to the best quality clothing they can afford. As two particularly eager ladies, one in an American-style sun visor, hold a smart blue polo shirt up to the light to inspect the handiwork on the seams, they know they won´t have to part with more than a couple of bolivianos if they want to buy it. But these particular women have made two interesting selections: a Fruit of the Loom sweater, manufactured in Korea under license by a well-known American label, and a pair of Everlast boxing pants, also a famous American brand, most probably manufactured in a third world country.

But this will soon come to an end.

This week sees the deadline for Morales´ 2006 supreme decree, stipulating that all importing of foreign used clothing will become illegal. Those selling these items have another ten months´grace to cease trading. But by next March, twenty years of burgeoning government-sponsored trade in imported used clothing will finish.

Protagonists of the change – Bolivian clothing manufacturers – say it is the responsibility of Bolivia´s middle classes, those who can afford to choose between imported cast-offs and Bolivian-made clothing, to support the creation of a self-sufficient national industry by buying Bolivian from now on.

Cochabamba´s Camara de Pequena Industria (CADEPIA) is the figurehead of this change under the governmment´s “Made In Bolivia” campaign, which aims to legitimize the economy by stamping out contraband and foreign imports in order to strengthen Bolivian companies. “Because of low prices, people from the middle classes and even upper classes have started to buy imported used clothing, which is sometimes unworn, damaged stock too,” says Daniel Santiesteban, CADEPIA´s director. “They like it because they want famous brands, good quality and good design. But these items don´t have a ´real price´ because someone else already paid for the cost of manufacture. How do we compete with that?”

Used clothing from abroad originally entered the country as charitable donations handled by religious groups. Pushed by demand from Bolivia´s poor, it became a business, and importing used clothing from other countries – commonly America – was later mandated by law to quell contraband and illegal imports.

According to data from the Instituto Boliviano De Comercio Exterior, Bolivia suffers around US$30 million in lost trade to the used clothing market each year. If ordinary Bolivians who can afford to buy new Bolivian-made clothing make the switch, there is data to support the idea that they will be party to creating some 60,000 jobs in this industry. CADEPIA´s Santiesteban believes that with this support, his constituents will invest time and money in training Bolivians to work in their factories, and will be able to buy state-of-the-art machinery – so that Bolivia can begin competing inside and outside its own borders, not least with China – currently swamping Bolivian markets like La Pampa with contraband clothing and other items. “Even some Bolivian manufacturers that copy clothing sew fake Chinese labels into their products because this stuff is so popular,” he adds. “It is the same quality as imports and people still buy it. We just need an equal footing to compete legitimately.”

But ordinary Bolivians, rich and poor, and not convinced and many think this trade will simply move underground, not disappear. “I prefer these second hand clothes because Bolivian-made clothing, is not good quality and they all look the same. There isn´t a lot of variety to choose from,” says the La Pampa woman in the Yankee-style sun visor, without taking her eyes off the job. “A lot of the clothes I find here seem new, and even if they are slightly damaged, if you look carefully you can usually find something new with only a small problem that I can easily fix at home.

“I think this trade will go on without the government´s support because Bolivians want it to.”

Los Tiempos: Visit Puerto Villarroel, EL Chapare

“Hidden Haven”  was the last article I wrote for Bolivian newspaper Los Tiempos when I spent two months as a reporter there in the summer of 2007.  Puerto Villarroel is still home to some of my very fondest memories: I can’t wait to get back there.

Hidden Haven: Puerto Villarroel wants to become an eco-tourist haven, but must find a balance between selling out and preserving its jungle paradise

If you stay on the bus linking Cochabamba with Chapare´s most popular tourist destination, Villa Tunari, as far as Ivirgazama – then squeeze into a colectivo, you reach the end of the road, the banks of the river Ichilo, and Puerto Villarroel, a village of 200 people. Puerto has almost no tourist visitors even though its proximity to Villa Tunari makes an easy day trip – and it has none of the facilities Tunari has. But what it lacks in public toilets, hotels, restaurants and internet cafes, it makes up for in stunning tranquility and natural heritage, and it is this that makes it a more appealing place for those who seek an escape from civilisation.

Puerto fits the image one expects of the rainforest. Traditional estiló camba punctuate lush jungle vegetation on the road to the village, and the river. The five-hour bus ride from Cochabamba to Ivirgazama through the Cordillera Tunari, past pine forests and lakes, later ascending into steamy jungle vegetation cradled by clouds, is an incredible introduction to Chaparé; travelling through neighbouring villages gives you a good idea of how different life is there. These villages, like most in Chapare, are financed by the coca trade – but Puerto´s comité civico of five representatives including Jorge Yale, their president, has decided to find an alternative income with the creation of eco-tourism in their little corner of paradise.

Now, there are just two tourists in Puerto, 19 year old Sabrina and her boyfriend Michel from Switzerland, who are here working for free restoring the local Guardería. “I like it here because I all the people know each other, and the climate is beautiful,” Sabrina says. “For me the most important thing about Puerto is the chance that we have to meet local people. It is a special place, especially for Europeans because we do not have the rainforest.”

But for a tourist who has fallen in love with Puerto for these reasons, Jorge´s plan could be a tragedy. The unique selling point that Puerto Villarroel has is this tranquillity. To imagine Puerto full of video camera-carrying tourists is sad. Jorge is aware of this and is keen to avoid over selling.

Puerto could benefit from tourism but, aside from assistance from USAID, the town must do it alone. Abstaining from the coca trade has meant estrangement from other towns, while the alcaldia of Puerto works in Ivirgazama – a designated “red area” for the coca trade, though the number of shiny four-wheel drive cars with 2007 registration plates in Ivirgazama mark out real coca territory – so financial and moral support are not available. Half of the money earmarked for Puerto Villarroel is spent in Ivirgazama, Jorge says, and the other half is not enough to do much with. But Puerto is determined to bring the concept of sustainability, something new in Bolivia, to tourists in Chaparé.

This trade is counter to Puerto´s eco-tourism plan. Cocaleros cut down areas of rainforest to extend coca and marihuana plantations in what is supposedly protected land belonging to indigenous populations like the Yuqui, Yuracaré and Trinitario. “The government does not realize that we can make money without cutting down trees,” says Yale. “Eco-tourism is a good alternative because our main resources here are nature and cultural heritage.” He adds that there are a lot of chemical by-products from cocaine production dumped into the rivers damaging the local eco-system and killing fish stocks.

The comité civico wants to build basic infrastructure, including better streets, gardens, medical services, and better sanitation. There is a plan for families to rent one room from their homes to tourists, for a home-stay experience that will enable sustainable tourism.

“We believe we can be a model for change in Chaparé, an example for indigenous communities here to see how they can survive in a sustainable way. Tourism is part of that.”

Puerto Villarroel: Facts

How to get there: Take a trufi or taxi directly to Ivirgazama, which should cost around 30-40 bolivianos, from the corner of Oquendo and Av. Republicá. They leave regularly throughout the day and take 3-5 hours. From Ivirgazama take a colectivo to Puerto Villarroel, which takes 40 minutes and costs under 5 bolivianos.

Where to stay: There are three hostels -Sucre, Eco Amazonas, and Jasmin. You can walk to them from the main plaza.

What to do: Relax! Have lunch at El Cliper – the tourist information centre that has an airy café attached – to sample the local fried fish. Take a walk on the hidden path along the river to the sandy beach: take a book and soak up the serenity of the jungle. Later, grab a table under the tin roof at La Rocola on the main plaza, order an ice-cold bottle of Taquiña, and listen to the jukebox. Then walk across the street where you can dance with the locals until the sun comes up.

Trips from Puerto Villarroel: Villa Tunari for the national park, treks, and monkey reserve. Occasional cargo boats take passengers to Trinidad, taking five days.

Eco-tourism: If you want to help Puerto develop, inquire in El Cliper about helping to restore the local guardería, or constructing the farm project which is run by Cochabamba-based volunteer organisation, Projects Abroad (www.projects-abroad.co.uk)