Day 3. Santa Cruz.
There are lots of changes to adjust to here in multicoloured Bolivia. The biggest change is that I'm not starting the journey in Peru as I always do. I find myself lying low and sleeping masses. It feels a bit like I've slept though the first ten minutes of a special movie. I've missed exciting Lima. Time in Lima gives me the opportunity to slip right into my South American Self. Arriving in Santa Cruz, Bolivia - in the beginning of the annual four day Carnival - has been wild.
In the streets thousands of men women and children are either dancing, eating, or throwing water and paint at each other! Everybody is soaked to the skin and covered in paint.
A great deal of alcohol ensures that folk will really let their hair down. Speaking of which, many people are wearing wigs. Some are spiked or curly, some long and or wavy. Scarlet , purple and fluorescent green are the most popular colours.Hundreds of city center shops, cafes, and restaurants are hidden behind heavy duty blue tarpaulins. Meters of black plastic cover windows. The main plaza is barricaded. It's off limits. Taxi's and buses are smeared with mud to protect them from permanent paint damage. It's sticky swealtry hot. Carnival lasts four days in every city in Bolivia. There are bands and groups of dancers all over the country dancing and drinking their way though four nights of fiesta, as they have done for generations.
I watch agog from my bedside on the local TV channel.
On my third day, I venture into the market. With the help my young friends- father and daughter- Claudio and Amerika, I buy a cheapie mobile. The purchase is complicated. However, the fruit juices on sale everywhere are exotic, delicious, thirst quenching, and comforting. It's a question of registering the mobile Claudio tells me. Ten days later the phone appears to be blocked and unfixable !
After the phone purchase (12$), Amerika helps me buy earphones so I can listen to Spotify on my small netbook. Spotify has added a new element of joy to my life, so long as I can get on line, which is tricky in many parts of Bolivia. Are they Chinese 16 year old Amerika asks each seller of earphones. She doesn't want me to have Chinese earphones. Not good she says.
Outside the market, purchases tightly in hand, the vibrant dance of street life with eye catching clusters of strange things for sale everywhere is exhilarating. There's constant noise and movement and children and adults everywhere are ambushing each other with huge water pistols loaded with paint.
Outside the safe little world of Casa Patio Hotel with its five art filled bedrooms and lush tropical garden...I feel a stranger to myself. In six weeks when I return, I know I will feel different.
Little do I know at this stage of the journey that on day 14, I will have a three hour encounter with two clever Bolivian scam artists, a 'campesino' and a 'housewife,' and end up in the police station looking at 101 mug shots !
Day 5. La Paz.
Immediately you step off the plane in El Alto the altitude hits you.
Wallop in most cases.
I feel my legs aging years with every meter I walk.
My new small brown suitcase - called Shamus3-, doesn't appear on the carousel.
Hmm I think. What now?
My brain tries to crank into gear and fails. Everybody leaves the bag collection area. Still no Shamus. When he finally arrives, it doesn't occur to me to cheque the padlock. A few hours later I notice the padlock has been removed.
Luckily there is nothing inside of any value. Altitude sickness is a mystery. My brain feels drugged. I feel the opposite of alert. My body has arrived in South America but the rest of me is extremely arriving slowly.
Luckily, the lovely airport angels are obviously still with me. And there's a new angel called Hilda about to appear!
Obrajes, La Paz.
I have to admit to feeling completely daunted at the prospect of finding where I'm going to stay in La Paz. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack. This is a vast city and it's Carnival here too.
I've been given a complicated address and have written it clearly on two scraps of paper. It's always a good idea to have two of everything when travleing in Bolivia. I also have 3 phone numbers.
The house belongs to a relation -my age- of a new Facebook friend. They have a Swiss sounding surname. This will be my first experince of AirB&B. I'm looking forward to it.
The taxi driver transpires to be part of the Bolivian Angel Brigade. He makes it his super- important job for the day to find 'my' house.
Finally, after a wait of some minutes ,the solid wooden garden door to a three story architect deisgned 1970's (?) Tyrolean looking house is opened by Hilda, accompanied by a little dog with protruding teeth.
'Ahhh' she says with a slow smile on a face that could be 15 or 45...' you are the person whose going to lodge here ?' And there begins a sweet connection
Day 6. First meeting with the inspirational Ivan. Alitude sickness kicking in.
Day 7. Meeting with Barbara who created the little school in the men's prison in La Paz. We meet in ' my house' in Obrajes. Barbara is one in a million without a shadow of a doubt.
Hilda brings us tea.
Barbara tells me how she came to work in prisons. How she works half the year in the prison and the other half in Italy.
What do you do there I asked her.
She tells me she works in travel agency, and with this money she supports herself in Bolivia for the rest of the year. Her back hurts. I give her money for a series of massages. She is very loath to accept it. I give her the 100 euros a very kind person at home gave me before I left to give to whomever I felt needed it. Use this for the children I suggested. I'll buy paint with it for them she said, it's just what we need at the moment.
After meeting Barbara, I decide I have to leave La Paz for a lower altitude. The Universe conspires to help me and I fly into Sucre the two days later. Two days earlier than planned.
The cost to change the flight is 3 euros.
On arrival, I find myself immediately in another world. Two days of bliss follow as I bask in the comfort of my 'treat' hotel.
I am now five days away from the robbery. Little do I know how much my Spanish is about to be streeeeeeeeeeetched!
There are lots of changes to adjust to here in multicoloured Bolivia. The biggest change is that I'm not starting the journey in Peru as I always do. I find myself lying low and sleeping masses. It feels a bit like I've slept though the first ten minutes of a special movie. I've missed exciting Lima. Time in Lima gives me the opportunity to slip right into my South American Self. Arriving in Santa Cruz, Bolivia - in the beginning of the annual four day Carnival - has been wild.
In the streets thousands of men women and children are either dancing, eating, or throwing water and paint at each other! Everybody is soaked to the skin and covered in paint.
A great deal of alcohol ensures that folk will really let their hair down. Speaking of which, many people are wearing wigs. Some are spiked or curly, some long and or wavy. Scarlet , purple and fluorescent green are the most popular colours.Hundreds of city center shops, cafes, and restaurants are hidden behind heavy duty blue tarpaulins. Meters of black plastic cover windows. The main plaza is barricaded. It's off limits. Taxi's and buses are smeared with mud to protect them from permanent paint damage. It's sticky swealtry hot. Carnival lasts four days in every city in Bolivia. There are bands and groups of dancers all over the country dancing and drinking their way though four nights of fiesta, as they have done for generations.
I watch agog from my bedside on the local TV channel.
On my third day, I venture into the market. With the help my young friends- father and daughter- Claudio and Amerika, I buy a cheapie mobile. The purchase is complicated. However, the fruit juices on sale everywhere are exotic, delicious, thirst quenching, and comforting. It's a question of registering the mobile Claudio tells me. Ten days later the phone appears to be blocked and unfixable !
After the phone purchase (12$), Amerika helps me buy earphones so I can listen to Spotify on my small netbook. Spotify has added a new element of joy to my life, so long as I can get on line, which is tricky in many parts of Bolivia. Are they Chinese 16 year old Amerika asks each seller of earphones. She doesn't want me to have Chinese earphones. Not good she says.
Outside the market, purchases tightly in hand, the vibrant dance of street life with eye catching clusters of strange things for sale everywhere is exhilarating. There's constant noise and movement and children and adults everywhere are ambushing each other with huge water pistols loaded with paint.
Outside the safe little world of Casa Patio Hotel with its five art filled bedrooms and lush tropical garden...I feel a stranger to myself. In six weeks when I return, I know I will feel different.
Little do I know at this stage of the journey that on day 14, I will have a three hour encounter with two clever Bolivian scam artists, a 'campesino' and a 'housewife,' and end up in the police station looking at 101 mug shots !
Day 5. La Paz.
Immediately you step off the plane in El Alto the altitude hits you.
Wallop in most cases.
I feel my legs aging years with every meter I walk.
My new small brown suitcase - called Shamus3-, doesn't appear on the carousel.
Hmm I think. What now?
My brain tries to crank into gear and fails. Everybody leaves the bag collection area. Still no Shamus. When he finally arrives, it doesn't occur to me to cheque the padlock. A few hours later I notice the padlock has been removed.
Luckily there is nothing inside of any value. Altitude sickness is a mystery. My brain feels drugged. I feel the opposite of alert. My body has arrived in South America but the rest of me is extremely arriving slowly.
Luckily, the lovely airport angels are obviously still with me. And there's a new angel called Hilda about to appear!
Obrajes, La Paz.
I have to admit to feeling completely daunted at the prospect of finding where I'm going to stay in La Paz. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack. This is a vast city and it's Carnival here too.
I've been given a complicated address and have written it clearly on two scraps of paper. It's always a good idea to have two of everything when travleing in Bolivia. I also have 3 phone numbers.
The house belongs to a relation -my age- of a new Facebook friend. They have a Swiss sounding surname. This will be my first experince of AirB&B. I'm looking forward to it.
The taxi driver transpires to be part of the Bolivian Angel Brigade. He makes it his super- important job for the day to find 'my' house.
Finally, after a wait of some minutes ,the solid wooden garden door to a three story architect deisgned 1970's (?) Tyrolean looking house is opened by Hilda, accompanied by a little dog with protruding teeth.
'Ahhh' she says with a slow smile on a face that could be 15 or 45...' you are the person whose going to lodge here ?' And there begins a sweet connection
Day 6. First meeting with the inspirational Ivan. Alitude sickness kicking in.
Day 7. Meeting with Barbara who created the little school in the men's prison in La Paz. We meet in ' my house' in Obrajes. Barbara is one in a million without a shadow of a doubt.
Hilda brings us tea.
Barbara tells me how she came to work in prisons. How she works half the year in the prison and the other half in Italy.
What do you do there I asked her.
She tells me she works in travel agency, and with this money she supports herself in Bolivia for the rest of the year. Her back hurts. I give her money for a series of massages. She is very loath to accept it. I give her the 100 euros a very kind person at home gave me before I left to give to whomever I felt needed it. Use this for the children I suggested. I'll buy paint with it for them she said, it's just what we need at the moment.
After meeting Barbara, I decide I have to leave La Paz for a lower altitude. The Universe conspires to help me and I fly into Sucre the two days later. Two days earlier than planned.
The cost to change the flight is 3 euros.
On arrival, I find myself immediately in another world. Two days of bliss follow as I bask in the comfort of my 'treat' hotel.
I am now five days away from the robbery. Little do I know how much my Spanish is about to be streeeeeeeeeeetched!
No comments:
Post a Comment