Since meeting up with the entire group on the 11th we´ve been pretty busy with traveling on windowless buses, hiking to green lagunas, building brick houses amist great dust tornadoes, and surviving a bout of a mysterious stomach virus. I haven´t had a lot of time or consistent email access to insert new entries, so I´m going to do a little summary in a series of ups and one down. Here goes:
THE UPS
1. The group - There are now 14 of us Gringos in our Habitat group. Originally there were 12, however, 2 long term Habitat volunteers living in Cochabamba (an hour or so from La Paz) joined us to help us get situated and going on our trip. Everyone is very cool. There are several teachers, a couple of lawyers, a nurse, a recent college grad, an IT guy, an architect, and a toxicologist. What´s cool though is that it´s a group with similar interests in volunteerism (at a cost?) and travel. We´ve all become pretty good friends and have now stories to tell about our shared experiences in Bolivia.
2. Sorata - On the 11th we all arrived in La Paz which sits at 13,000 feet or so and headed to Sorata, a small valley mountain village which sits at about 6,000 feet. We went to Sorata for orientation and to help us adjust to the high altitude. Sorata was a very cool and tranquilo little mountain village. We stayed at this old hotel built in the 1940s. This hotel, called the Ex-profectoral, is huge with high ceiling walls, dim lighting, and creaking hardwood floors. It is a bit reminiscent of the Bolivian version of the hotel in the Shining. Red-rum. Very beautiful, but a bit creepy at night.
On our second day in Sorata most of our group ventured on a hike to Laguna Chilata. 13 of us jumped into the back of a pick-up truck with guard rails and drove on oh-so narrow and steep roads to the hiking trail head. We then ascended up about 500 feet to this green water lagoon just below snow-capped mountains. The hike was difficult, but the views from the top were magnificent.
3. Oruro - We traveled from Sorata to Oruro, which is about a 7 hour drive. Our bus mysteriously lost it´s front driver´s side window so plastic and tape covered the hole. Oruro is the capital city of the state of Oruro. Some guide books say that Oruro is where most of the indigenous population lives or is from. Most Oruro-ians speak either Ayemara or Quechua, but all speak Spanish. The Ayemara were before the Incans and the Quechua were after the Incans. Oruro is a very poor region of the country. Bolivia is in fact the poorest country in all of South America and second only to Haiti for the entire Western hemispere. Oruro is a place of parades. We have seen or heard a parade every day since we´ve been here. Oruro is also home to the Carnival which takes place in February. The people here seem very proud of their heritage and their history and their parades. It´s a very lively place. I don´t quite know how the two are connected. It´s very poor, but lively. Perhaps monetary wealth and happiness are two separate things. Sure they are. There are other aspects, however, to look at as well, such as health care, education, housing facilities. I haven´t been here long enough to get a true sense of what that means for Bolivians. As a travelor you get a perspective, but not necessarily the perspective that helps you understand the people.
3. Habitat Bolivia - HFH Bolivia is very organized and on-point. They have purchased a plot of land just outside the center of Oruro called El Barrio. They have completed already 120-some houses and are to add another 20 by the end of the year. Our group is helping with three different families. The houses are made of red brick. The model home we are working on are two-story homes. The three houses are in different stages on development so we have seen how each part of the construction goes. On the first day I helped to lay brick on a house that already had the foundation up. On the second and third day, however, I worked on a different home and had different jobs. First we were putting in the foundation and needed rocks to be mixed with the cement. So, I was given a sledgehammer and went at it breaking up these huge rocks so they could be used in with the foundation. That was a hard job. I was real soar by the end of the day and had broken two different sledgehammers. It was cool though.
Each home has its own albanel - who is basically in charge of the building. A fellow by the name of Eddson is in charge of all the building. Eddson, a Bolivian, is very hard working and makes sure that each of us volunteers has a job and is not idle. He has had us mixing cement, breaking rocks, laying bricks, putting in posts for the home layout.
THE DOWN
1. Diarrhea - sorry to be so blatant. Our group got something. At one point this past weekend, 12 of 14 of us were under the weather with some kind of stomach virus. We are recovering however, and most of us are on the up and up.
There´s definetely more to write and the ups overwhelmingly outweigh the down. More to come...hasta pronto!
21 August 2007
11 August 2007
Beenie Weenies and Brad Pitt
August 10, 2007
Mi cumpleano. I overslept today. I wanted to get up and at em by 6:30 or 7 am, but I think the hiking from the day before did me in. The night (9th) before I checked into a less expensive hostel. I stayed at la residencial Paris for 15 bolivianos. I grabbed a late dinner at, again, a Bohemian place called Pueblo Viejo. There´s many little Bohemian spots in Copacabana-it´s got the feel of a beach town. It´s a cool little place, though touristy, as I´ve already mentioned. Pueblo Viejo was good. I ate a dish called Pique Machu-a Bolivian dish said the waiter. It was patatas fritas, covered with green and red peppers, and 3 types of meat-beef, chicken, and my favorite beenie weenies. It was good. I slowly sipped on a Bolivian pilsner which was really refreshing after being under the sun all day.
The waiter, Javier, was really cool. We got to chatting and I asked him about a couple of things I was curious about. First, about how the people have reacted to Evo Morales. Talking politics can be an iffy subject in foreign countries. You really have to take what you hear more as a personal opinion than as the facts. Living with the Owambo people in Namibia they raved about the president Sammy Sam Nujoma and the SWAPO party. However, analyzing it a little more Owambos are more than 60 percent of the population meaning their tribe will probably always carry the most weight when voting time comes around. This may mean that SWAPO rule is great for Owambos, but may not be for the Hereros or the Namas, or the rest of the nation. Anyways, Javier stated that it depends on who you talk to. He said some really like Morales, while others don´t. He did say though that only about 50 percent of teh population votes. I told him that was about the percentage of voters in my country as well. Some of Javier´s responses I didn´t quite understand but didn´t pry too much, we were having a good conversation.
The other thing I asked him about was the relation between Catholicism and Incan traditions in Bolivia, if there was any. He stated that almost all of the people were practicing Catholics, but celebrated Incan ancestry out of respect. I thought this was quite a response. If that´s the case in general, I have to tip my hat to the open mindedness, humility, and sense of this-life-is-much-greater-than-I perspective of the people of this region. Que linda!
I woke up on the 10th around 9am not to an alarm, but to my cell phone blowing up. I´ve been using it as an alarm clock since I didn´t bring a watch. It was some unidentified New York number. I think it was one of my students. I usually give them my number at the beginning of the school year thinking they probably won´t use it and even warn them that if they blow up my spot at 4 in the morning I´m not answering. But oh contrar. Be careful giving your number to knucklehead students.
I got my stuff together, took a drip-drip cold shower with no soap or towel (don´t ask for details) and did some internet errands. Wouldn´t it be nice if when you left the country your bills were just on hold until you got back (insert question mark-i´m sitting at an internet cafe in la paz but the keyboard is in chinese and i really can´t decipher this thing)
I grabbed a late breakfast and caught the one oclock bus to La Paz. I am to meet the Habitat group over the next day and a half as folks start to arrive. The bus departs from Copacabana and stops at Tiquina where we take a ferry and continue on our way. The bus ride was pretty smooth-this wasn´t a kambee bus, but a larger charter bus. For most of the way we passed rolling hills with brown grass and tiny pueblos where the people were beginning to till the land. I asked the lady sitting next to me what they would grow and she said beans...I think. Talking Spanish with people with no English background is a little more difficult. The accents, I´ve found, are much thicker, and I guess I´m a bit embarrassed to continue asking que, que diciste, que, no entiendo. Hopefully my ear will become a little more accustomed to the language as time passes. I did make out, however, that nothing will be growing for another month or so. The people are working a bit early in preparation for the big celebration day on August 15-el dia de Pachamama (the earth mother)...At least, I think that´s what she said.
I arrived to La Paz by 5:30 and found the hotel-estrella andina-where I will meet the rest of the group. Only 2 folks had checked in, and I figured they were crashin´from jet lag, so I headed out to check out La Paz. It´s a crazy, hilly place. Very steep hills.
I was walking down a hill and saw a peloqueria. I decided to stop in and get a haircut. Un hombre named Juan cut my hair for 40 bolivianos. He gave me a nice trim and a shave. We were talking and I told him I had a friend in the States who was a stylist and that he had to go to school for 6-12 months. Juan said it was the same here and that he went to school for one year. A reggaeton video was playing on the television and Juan said that was becoming very popular music in Bolivia. I asked him about la musica autentica de Bolivia and, I don´t know the name of it in Spanish, but, it´s the music with the flute thingys. You know, that one. I´ll bring some back home. Juan is a jugador de musica as well. As I departed we exchanged names and we ran into the same problem, if you will, that I did when I lived in Spain some years back. There´s not many words in the Spanish language that end in ´d´, so when I told him my name, Juan replied, el pan-which is bread. I said, no, como el actor Brad Pitt. Ah, Brad, Juan said. When I lived in Spain though I guess he wasn´t quite the world famous person that he is now so many times I just left it as, si, mi nombre es pan. It was the same when I worked at Brothers Pizza with mis amigos mexicanos in the kitchen. They just called me Pan. Reckon there´s worse things to be called.
Tomorrow morning I will meet everyone and we will depart to Sorata for 2 or 3 days for orientation. After, we will head to Oruro where we will work, helping to build residential houses for the people in various communities. Pasas bien!
Mi cumpleano. I overslept today. I wanted to get up and at em by 6:30 or 7 am, but I think the hiking from the day before did me in. The night (9th) before I checked into a less expensive hostel. I stayed at la residencial Paris for 15 bolivianos. I grabbed a late dinner at, again, a Bohemian place called Pueblo Viejo. There´s many little Bohemian spots in Copacabana-it´s got the feel of a beach town. It´s a cool little place, though touristy, as I´ve already mentioned. Pueblo Viejo was good. I ate a dish called Pique Machu-a Bolivian dish said the waiter. It was patatas fritas, covered with green and red peppers, and 3 types of meat-beef, chicken, and my favorite beenie weenies. It was good. I slowly sipped on a Bolivian pilsner which was really refreshing after being under the sun all day.
The waiter, Javier, was really cool. We got to chatting and I asked him about a couple of things I was curious about. First, about how the people have reacted to Evo Morales. Talking politics can be an iffy subject in foreign countries. You really have to take what you hear more as a personal opinion than as the facts. Living with the Owambo people in Namibia they raved about the president Sammy Sam Nujoma and the SWAPO party. However, analyzing it a little more Owambos are more than 60 percent of the population meaning their tribe will probably always carry the most weight when voting time comes around. This may mean that SWAPO rule is great for Owambos, but may not be for the Hereros or the Namas, or the rest of the nation. Anyways, Javier stated that it depends on who you talk to. He said some really like Morales, while others don´t. He did say though that only about 50 percent of teh population votes. I told him that was about the percentage of voters in my country as well. Some of Javier´s responses I didn´t quite understand but didn´t pry too much, we were having a good conversation.
The other thing I asked him about was the relation between Catholicism and Incan traditions in Bolivia, if there was any. He stated that almost all of the people were practicing Catholics, but celebrated Incan ancestry out of respect. I thought this was quite a response. If that´s the case in general, I have to tip my hat to the open mindedness, humility, and sense of this-life-is-much-greater-than-I perspective of the people of this region. Que linda!
I woke up on the 10th around 9am not to an alarm, but to my cell phone blowing up. I´ve been using it as an alarm clock since I didn´t bring a watch. It was some unidentified New York number. I think it was one of my students. I usually give them my number at the beginning of the school year thinking they probably won´t use it and even warn them that if they blow up my spot at 4 in the morning I´m not answering. But oh contrar. Be careful giving your number to knucklehead students.
I got my stuff together, took a drip-drip cold shower with no soap or towel (don´t ask for details) and did some internet errands. Wouldn´t it be nice if when you left the country your bills were just on hold until you got back (insert question mark-i´m sitting at an internet cafe in la paz but the keyboard is in chinese and i really can´t decipher this thing)
I grabbed a late breakfast and caught the one oclock bus to La Paz. I am to meet the Habitat group over the next day and a half as folks start to arrive. The bus departs from Copacabana and stops at Tiquina where we take a ferry and continue on our way. The bus ride was pretty smooth-this wasn´t a kambee bus, but a larger charter bus. For most of the way we passed rolling hills with brown grass and tiny pueblos where the people were beginning to till the land. I asked the lady sitting next to me what they would grow and she said beans...I think. Talking Spanish with people with no English background is a little more difficult. The accents, I´ve found, are much thicker, and I guess I´m a bit embarrassed to continue asking que, que diciste, que, no entiendo. Hopefully my ear will become a little more accustomed to the language as time passes. I did make out, however, that nothing will be growing for another month or so. The people are working a bit early in preparation for the big celebration day on August 15-el dia de Pachamama (the earth mother)...At least, I think that´s what she said.
I arrived to La Paz by 5:30 and found the hotel-estrella andina-where I will meet the rest of the group. Only 2 folks had checked in, and I figured they were crashin´from jet lag, so I headed out to check out La Paz. It´s a crazy, hilly place. Very steep hills.
I was walking down a hill and saw a peloqueria. I decided to stop in and get a haircut. Un hombre named Juan cut my hair for 40 bolivianos. He gave me a nice trim and a shave. We were talking and I told him I had a friend in the States who was a stylist and that he had to go to school for 6-12 months. Juan said it was the same here and that he went to school for one year. A reggaeton video was playing on the television and Juan said that was becoming very popular music in Bolivia. I asked him about la musica autentica de Bolivia and, I don´t know the name of it in Spanish, but, it´s the music with the flute thingys. You know, that one. I´ll bring some back home. Juan is a jugador de musica as well. As I departed we exchanged names and we ran into the same problem, if you will, that I did when I lived in Spain some years back. There´s not many words in the Spanish language that end in ´d´, so when I told him my name, Juan replied, el pan-which is bread. I said, no, como el actor Brad Pitt. Ah, Brad, Juan said. When I lived in Spain though I guess he wasn´t quite the world famous person that he is now so many times I just left it as, si, mi nombre es pan. It was the same when I worked at Brothers Pizza with mis amigos mexicanos in the kitchen. They just called me Pan. Reckon there´s worse things to be called.
Tomorrow morning I will meet everyone and we will depart to Sorata for 2 or 3 days for orientation. After, we will head to Oruro where we will work, helping to build residential houses for the people in various communities. Pasas bien!
10 August 2007
Adventures in Copacabana...
August 9, 2007
I woke up around 7 am. It was cold. I was dog tired. But, I had to be by the lakeshore by 8:15 to depart on un barco to the island of the sun – la isla del sol. I would return by 4 or 5 on the same boat. I hurried myself up, skipped a shower, though, it was too cold to get wet and would require too much energy. I packed up my gear and headed downstairs to check out and get a quick breakfast. I stayed at Hotel Utama for 10 US per night, which is actually steep for the area. The most expensive hotel in Copa costs 38 US per night. At the time, however, I was so jet lagged I just wanted a bed and this was the first place I spotted. Breakfast was buenisimo and included so era muy buenisimo. I arrived at the shore by 8:10 and spotted Katerine, my German friend from the day before. She was also headed to la isla, but to a different part of the island and was to stay 2 nights there. I boarded the top of the platform of the barco “Titicaca” along with many other tourists. I think, in fact, there were only tourists aboard. Copacabana is a very touristy location. The last thing I wanted was to be in the midst of a group of gringos hiking, but it all worked out.
The boat ride was 1.5 hours and only covered a portion of the massive Lake Titicaca. The views were magnificent – mini islands popping up everywhere and the grand snow covered Andes in the far background. Our boat ride took us only several hundred feet from Peru as well. The boat was filled with mostly Europeans – some English lads and ladies, a group of private school kids, some Germans, some stinky Frenchmen – and 2 other Americans. One, an undergrad from Duke, whose name I didn’t catch, was working for the summer in Santiago, Chile. The other lad – Bill – was a newly retired linguistic professor from Indiana University. He was originally from the boogie down Bronx, holla! He was a talker though. Very interesting, but a talker. He speaks like 5 languages, had lived in Bulgaria, France, Mali, Russia, and extensively traveled throughout Spanish speaking countries. For the last 5 years he has traveled for 2 months (every 6 months) in 2 Spanish speaking countries. This was his second trip to Bolivia in as many years.
We finally arrived to la isla del sol and there were a couple of options. 1) there was a tour guided hike – NO. 2) you could check out the museum and Incan ruins with a guide – NO. 3) or, you could high tail it on your own on the hiking trails and hope to make it back to the pick up point by 3:45. Now, that’s more like it, I thought. Okay, I didn’t have a real map or a watch, but I figured I’d be miserable with the first two options. It’s cool meetin’ folk, but I dig just hiking solo. You know it’s that time I acquire my deep thoughts. HA! I joke with Jazzy that sometimes my thoughts are so deep you need a life vest so you don’t drown (which is complete rubbish). Here’s one I recently came up with. Hand sanitizer is so great. You can literally blow your nose in your hands and simply apply the sanitizer. You are not only keeping clean, but helping the planet by saving excess paper use. Don’t drown…
I wasn’t sure quite where to go, but I just continued to ask people on the island, “donde esta el paseo a Yumani,” and I was able to find my way. Que bonito paseo. The day was warming up. The cool thing is that even though it’s chilly, you’re so high and closer to the sun that being in the sun warms you up. Yes, Ma, I wore sunscreen. It was a beautiful journey. It took me along the shore for a bit, which had crystal clear water, frigid, yes, but beautiful. The trail then ascended to an area where there were more Incan ruins. It supposedly cost money, but at this point I slowed my roll and joined the large tour group and with them evaded the entry fee. I felt bad about it later though and paid a senorita dressed in traditional Incan garb to take her photo. The ruins were cool, but nothing compared to the scene at Peru’s Machu Picchu, so I have heard. The ruins were of an old ancient market overlooking mountains and the lake. There was also a large stone table that was used for various ceremonies, though it’s uncertain what ceremonies exactly. Some claim it was to behead wrongdoers while others claim it was an area to offer a sacrifice to the gods.
One very interesting aspect about Copacabana and the areas surrounding the lake is the religion of the people. Most are Catholic due to the spread of the religion in the 16th century. Supposedly in 1583 un hombre named Tito Yupanqui had a dream that a new belief in God was going to arrive and vuala, a couple of years later the Catholic priests arrived. There’s a huge statue of Yupanqui at the town’s Cathedral and story plates on the door depicting the events of the arrival of Christianity. But, Catholicism really began to flourish when the cathedral elected the Virgen Calandaria as the patron saint. After this, in the early 17th century, there were numerous claims of miraculous happenings. Despite the conversion, however, much of the Incan religious traditions remained in the lake region. It’s a sacred place to many people and la isla del sol is to many Incans the location of the creation story. Incan tradition believes the sun was born there and from that life was. This, however, is not solely an Incan history, it’s an Ayamara history, which is another tribe and is somehow connected to the Incans though I’m not quite sure how. There are other Incan idols in this part as well – the moon, who is married to the sun, and the earth mother Pachamama. There’s somehow a connection between the 2 religions in this region, though it’s not exactly clear as of yet how. It’s very interesting and intriguing, however, to learn more about.
Bueno, pues, vamos. After stopping briefly at the Incan ruins I continued on the trek. It began to get difficult because of the increased altitude. This island is above 4000 m and the air began to get thin. It’s a weird feeling. Your mind says go, but your body says no, not enough O2. I walked at a much slower pace than usual. It was okay though, because the views were spectacular. The view to the Andes was crystal clear. It must have been a view of several hundred miles. I continued along this trail for a good 2 hours and began to get a bit worried when at a stop point a Bolivian senorita selling gloves and such said my destination was another 2.5 hours! I wasn’t expecting this long a hike and didn’t want to miss the boat pick up for I would be stuck on the island por la noche. I was relieved though when minutes later 3 Bostonians passed me and said I had an hour more to walk.
I finally arrived to the beginning of Yumani and a small Bolivian girl comes up to me. “Sacar mi foto, por favor.” This meant take my picture and pay me money. The problem was, though, I didn’t have any change. I told her so and she said, “chachabamba.” I didn’t understand. “Bombo.” I still didn’t get it. “Dulce.” Sweets, oh! I didn’t have any. This conversation was going nowhere. Finally, I went New York on her. I said, all right, chica, I ain’t got no change, no candy, but an American quarter and 2 Mexican pesos with your name written all over it. Esta bien, she said. I took the photo of Gabriela and she was all smiles. I continued through Yumani and ate at a restaurant on a cliff overlooking the beach and the Andes. I made it to the 3:45 boat ride just in time.
On the ride home I sat next to a group of high school English kids who were all adolescent giggles. They raved about Ali G and Monty Python and we talked trash about Bush.
The boat returned to Copa by 5:30. I went back to my hotel to grab my bag to check into a less expensive place. I found a hostel on the main street – 6 de Agosto – for 15 bolivianos, which is 2 US dollars. I was tired, but wanted to stay up a bit. I found this little Bohemian coffee shop and sat down to do some writing and more deep thinking. I think I hurt myself trying to deep think. Don’t try it without a parachute or larium.
I woke up around 7 am. It was cold. I was dog tired. But, I had to be by the lakeshore by 8:15 to depart on un barco to the island of the sun – la isla del sol. I would return by 4 or 5 on the same boat. I hurried myself up, skipped a shower, though, it was too cold to get wet and would require too much energy. I packed up my gear and headed downstairs to check out and get a quick breakfast. I stayed at Hotel Utama for 10 US per night, which is actually steep for the area. The most expensive hotel in Copa costs 38 US per night. At the time, however, I was so jet lagged I just wanted a bed and this was the first place I spotted. Breakfast was buenisimo and included so era muy buenisimo. I arrived at the shore by 8:10 and spotted Katerine, my German friend from the day before. She was also headed to la isla, but to a different part of the island and was to stay 2 nights there. I boarded the top of the platform of the barco “Titicaca” along with many other tourists. I think, in fact, there were only tourists aboard. Copacabana is a very touristy location. The last thing I wanted was to be in the midst of a group of gringos hiking, but it all worked out.
The boat ride was 1.5 hours and only covered a portion of the massive Lake Titicaca. The views were magnificent – mini islands popping up everywhere and the grand snow covered Andes in the far background. Our boat ride took us only several hundred feet from Peru as well. The boat was filled with mostly Europeans – some English lads and ladies, a group of private school kids, some Germans, some stinky Frenchmen – and 2 other Americans. One, an undergrad from Duke, whose name I didn’t catch, was working for the summer in Santiago, Chile. The other lad – Bill – was a newly retired linguistic professor from Indiana University. He was originally from the boogie down Bronx, holla! He was a talker though. Very interesting, but a talker. He speaks like 5 languages, had lived in Bulgaria, France, Mali, Russia, and extensively traveled throughout Spanish speaking countries. For the last 5 years he has traveled for 2 months (every 6 months) in 2 Spanish speaking countries. This was his second trip to Bolivia in as many years.
We finally arrived to la isla del sol and there were a couple of options. 1) there was a tour guided hike – NO. 2) you could check out the museum and Incan ruins with a guide – NO. 3) or, you could high tail it on your own on the hiking trails and hope to make it back to the pick up point by 3:45. Now, that’s more like it, I thought. Okay, I didn’t have a real map or a watch, but I figured I’d be miserable with the first two options. It’s cool meetin’ folk, but I dig just hiking solo. You know it’s that time I acquire my deep thoughts. HA! I joke with Jazzy that sometimes my thoughts are so deep you need a life vest so you don’t drown (which is complete rubbish). Here’s one I recently came up with. Hand sanitizer is so great. You can literally blow your nose in your hands and simply apply the sanitizer. You are not only keeping clean, but helping the planet by saving excess paper use. Don’t drown…
I wasn’t sure quite where to go, but I just continued to ask people on the island, “donde esta el paseo a Yumani,” and I was able to find my way. Que bonito paseo. The day was warming up. The cool thing is that even though it’s chilly, you’re so high and closer to the sun that being in the sun warms you up. Yes, Ma, I wore sunscreen. It was a beautiful journey. It took me along the shore for a bit, which had crystal clear water, frigid, yes, but beautiful. The trail then ascended to an area where there were more Incan ruins. It supposedly cost money, but at this point I slowed my roll and joined the large tour group and with them evaded the entry fee. I felt bad about it later though and paid a senorita dressed in traditional Incan garb to take her photo. The ruins were cool, but nothing compared to the scene at Peru’s Machu Picchu, so I have heard. The ruins were of an old ancient market overlooking mountains and the lake. There was also a large stone table that was used for various ceremonies, though it’s uncertain what ceremonies exactly. Some claim it was to behead wrongdoers while others claim it was an area to offer a sacrifice to the gods.
One very interesting aspect about Copacabana and the areas surrounding the lake is the religion of the people. Most are Catholic due to the spread of the religion in the 16th century. Supposedly in 1583 un hombre named Tito Yupanqui had a dream that a new belief in God was going to arrive and vuala, a couple of years later the Catholic priests arrived. There’s a huge statue of Yupanqui at the town’s Cathedral and story plates on the door depicting the events of the arrival of Christianity. But, Catholicism really began to flourish when the cathedral elected the Virgen Calandaria as the patron saint. After this, in the early 17th century, there were numerous claims of miraculous happenings. Despite the conversion, however, much of the Incan religious traditions remained in the lake region. It’s a sacred place to many people and la isla del sol is to many Incans the location of the creation story. Incan tradition believes the sun was born there and from that life was. This, however, is not solely an Incan history, it’s an Ayamara history, which is another tribe and is somehow connected to the Incans though I’m not quite sure how. There are other Incan idols in this part as well – the moon, who is married to the sun, and the earth mother Pachamama. There’s somehow a connection between the 2 religions in this region, though it’s not exactly clear as of yet how. It’s very interesting and intriguing, however, to learn more about.
Bueno, pues, vamos. After stopping briefly at the Incan ruins I continued on the trek. It began to get difficult because of the increased altitude. This island is above 4000 m and the air began to get thin. It’s a weird feeling. Your mind says go, but your body says no, not enough O2. I walked at a much slower pace than usual. It was okay though, because the views were spectacular. The view to the Andes was crystal clear. It must have been a view of several hundred miles. I continued along this trail for a good 2 hours and began to get a bit worried when at a stop point a Bolivian senorita selling gloves and such said my destination was another 2.5 hours! I wasn’t expecting this long a hike and didn’t want to miss the boat pick up for I would be stuck on the island por la noche. I was relieved though when minutes later 3 Bostonians passed me and said I had an hour more to walk.
I finally arrived to the beginning of Yumani and a small Bolivian girl comes up to me. “Sacar mi foto, por favor.” This meant take my picture and pay me money. The problem was, though, I didn’t have any change. I told her so and she said, “chachabamba.” I didn’t understand. “Bombo.” I still didn’t get it. “Dulce.” Sweets, oh! I didn’t have any. This conversation was going nowhere. Finally, I went New York on her. I said, all right, chica, I ain’t got no change, no candy, but an American quarter and 2 Mexican pesos with your name written all over it. Esta bien, she said. I took the photo of Gabriela and she was all smiles. I continued through Yumani and ate at a restaurant on a cliff overlooking the beach and the Andes. I made it to the 3:45 boat ride just in time.
On the ride home I sat next to a group of high school English kids who were all adolescent giggles. They raved about Ali G and Monty Python and we talked trash about Bush.
The boat returned to Copa by 5:30. I went back to my hotel to grab my bag to check into a less expensive place. I found a hostel on the main street – 6 de Agosto – for 15 bolivianos, which is 2 US dollars. I was tired, but wanted to stay up a bit. I found this little Bohemian coffee shop and sat down to do some writing and more deep thinking. I think I hurt myself trying to deep think. Don’t try it without a parachute or larium.
The same day
August 8 continued…
I had the most relaxing sleep when I arrived to Hotel Utama on the north side of Copacabana. I slept till about 3 pm, but it was a dream induced jet lagged rest. I dreamnt that I would wake up at midnight wide awake and then my sleep schedule would be all off. Anyways, I woke a bit refreshed and hungry. It was cold. I was wearing a pair of long johns, a pair of pants, 2 pairs of socks, 3 shirts, and a tobagan. But, I was comfortable. I showered up when I woke and headed to the center of town, which is the street named 6 de Agosto – the day of the Bolivian independence. I exchanged some dollars – approximately 1 dollar is equivalent to 7.8 bolivianos. 25 bolivianos will get you a full meal and 40 bolivianos is sufficient for a night in a hostel.
For a late lunch I ate troucha – trout – at a side street restaurant. Lake Titicaca is full of trout, but before the early 1900s there were no trout in the lake. Some European placed some trout in the lake as an experiment and they just multiplied. The trout was great. After, I bought myself some hand woven Bolivian mittens and headed down to the lakeshore. On the way I stopped at la plaza Sucre where a Reggae band – of all things – was setting up to perform. There were 4 dread heads and a full ensemble – a guitarist, a bassist, 2 trumpeters, a drummer, and some hippie flailers. I never thought I would see a Reggae band in an area filled with indigenous Bolivians of Incan ancestry. They were pretty good. I especially liked their tune – “don’t never wanna work in the workin’ society.” The band, named Manana me chanto, was from all over – a couple of Italians, a Brazilian, an American, and some others.
I escaped the hippies and continued on my way to the shore. I was stopped once more by a girl named Katerine. She is from Germany, but spoke no English. Her Spanish was very good. She asked me how long I planned to stay in Copa and said she was looking for a hiking partner to trek from Copa to Yamaputata – a four hour hike. At Yamaputata you can catch a ferry to la isla del sol, an island on Lake Titicaca filled with Incan ruins. The problem though is that you need about 2 days to do this. I only had 1.5 days in Copa and was a bit tired to trek 4 hours at 13,000 feet. The alternative route is to take a 2 hour ferry from Copa to the island of the sun and spend half a day there to explore. I declined Katerine’s offer, but we talked for a bit. She is very cool. She is in her 2nd year in college in southern Germany, but took a year off to travel with her boyfriend in South America. Her boyfriend is currently studying in Chile and she has lived for 3 months with a family in Santa Cruz, a southeastern city in Bolivia. Before she arrived here she spoke no Spanish, but she now seemed fluent to me. We both agreed that being surrounded by a language is the best way to learn it. We said good bye, mucha suerte, and I walked along the shore.
There were still remnants of the August 6 independence day celebrations – firework wrappers, beer bottles, confetti, some families still parked in their kambees in the shoreline parking lot. The sun was slowly setting – el sol se pone. It was still cold. I took my photos and stopped in at an Americanized coffee spot to sip on mate de cocoa. This wasn’t a Starbucks, but it was close. Inside English rock blarred and the BBC World news was on the tellie. I sat outside and soaked in the mate de cocoa. It’s basically a pill of leaves from the cocoa plant and hot water. The cocoa plant in Bolivia is an ancient remedy and cooking ingredient, but has also been exploited. In the 70s with the cocaine boom in the States, Bolivian farmers were paid to grow massive amounts of the crop. It was then exported to Colombia where it was produced into cocaine and shipped to the world to use and abuse. These farmers were exploited and only saw a minute portion of the extreme profits made by many. Bolivia got a bad rap for their involvement and trade tariffs were enforced. Most recently the newly elected Evo Morales – the first indigenous president of Bolivia – has encouraged the growing and use of the crop for things outside of the drug world. It seems to make some Americanos shake their heads, but there’s a legitimate need and use for the crop and more importantly it’s a Bolivian cultural tradition. Mate de cocoa is delicious and is a remedy for the high altitudes. But, I don’t think I’ll be bringing any home anytime soon.
I sipped on my tea, wrote a bit, and ran into Katerine once again. We talked a bit more, sharing travel experiences and then invited another patron at the restaurant, who was solo, to join us. Her name was Paula and was a Marlboro Red chain smoking Argentinean actress. Paula had been traveling for 2 weeks all through Bolivia. The more I spoke with them both the more I realized I wished I had more time to explore. Sudamerica will definitely be a future travel spot for me. Paula was discussing how the movie business is all lies (mentiras). She said that there’s been several movies taking place in China and else where, but filmed all in Argentina. She also said that the movie 7 years in Tibet was all filmed in Chile and Peru. I was trying to be funny and told her that she was lying and that that was my favorite movie. I guess my humor, however, was lost in translation, because they both just looked at me like I was crazy. Allright, moving on, I thought, and changed the subject. They were both very cool and it was fun talking with them and practicing Spanish. We said our good byes and I went to my hotel and crashed.
I had the most relaxing sleep when I arrived to Hotel Utama on the north side of Copacabana. I slept till about 3 pm, but it was a dream induced jet lagged rest. I dreamnt that I would wake up at midnight wide awake and then my sleep schedule would be all off. Anyways, I woke a bit refreshed and hungry. It was cold. I was wearing a pair of long johns, a pair of pants, 2 pairs of socks, 3 shirts, and a tobagan. But, I was comfortable. I showered up when I woke and headed to the center of town, which is the street named 6 de Agosto – the day of the Bolivian independence. I exchanged some dollars – approximately 1 dollar is equivalent to 7.8 bolivianos. 25 bolivianos will get you a full meal and 40 bolivianos is sufficient for a night in a hostel.
For a late lunch I ate troucha – trout – at a side street restaurant. Lake Titicaca is full of trout, but before the early 1900s there were no trout in the lake. Some European placed some trout in the lake as an experiment and they just multiplied. The trout was great. After, I bought myself some hand woven Bolivian mittens and headed down to the lakeshore. On the way I stopped at la plaza Sucre where a Reggae band – of all things – was setting up to perform. There were 4 dread heads and a full ensemble – a guitarist, a bassist, 2 trumpeters, a drummer, and some hippie flailers. I never thought I would see a Reggae band in an area filled with indigenous Bolivians of Incan ancestry. They were pretty good. I especially liked their tune – “don’t never wanna work in the workin’ society.” The band, named Manana me chanto, was from all over – a couple of Italians, a Brazilian, an American, and some others.
I escaped the hippies and continued on my way to the shore. I was stopped once more by a girl named Katerine. She is from Germany, but spoke no English. Her Spanish was very good. She asked me how long I planned to stay in Copa and said she was looking for a hiking partner to trek from Copa to Yamaputata – a four hour hike. At Yamaputata you can catch a ferry to la isla del sol, an island on Lake Titicaca filled with Incan ruins. The problem though is that you need about 2 days to do this. I only had 1.5 days in Copa and was a bit tired to trek 4 hours at 13,000 feet. The alternative route is to take a 2 hour ferry from Copa to the island of the sun and spend half a day there to explore. I declined Katerine’s offer, but we talked for a bit. She is very cool. She is in her 2nd year in college in southern Germany, but took a year off to travel with her boyfriend in South America. Her boyfriend is currently studying in Chile and she has lived for 3 months with a family in Santa Cruz, a southeastern city in Bolivia. Before she arrived here she spoke no Spanish, but she now seemed fluent to me. We both agreed that being surrounded by a language is the best way to learn it. We said good bye, mucha suerte, and I walked along the shore.
There were still remnants of the August 6 independence day celebrations – firework wrappers, beer bottles, confetti, some families still parked in their kambees in the shoreline parking lot. The sun was slowly setting – el sol se pone. It was still cold. I took my photos and stopped in at an Americanized coffee spot to sip on mate de cocoa. This wasn’t a Starbucks, but it was close. Inside English rock blarred and the BBC World news was on the tellie. I sat outside and soaked in the mate de cocoa. It’s basically a pill of leaves from the cocoa plant and hot water. The cocoa plant in Bolivia is an ancient remedy and cooking ingredient, but has also been exploited. In the 70s with the cocaine boom in the States, Bolivian farmers were paid to grow massive amounts of the crop. It was then exported to Colombia where it was produced into cocaine and shipped to the world to use and abuse. These farmers were exploited and only saw a minute portion of the extreme profits made by many. Bolivia got a bad rap for their involvement and trade tariffs were enforced. Most recently the newly elected Evo Morales – the first indigenous president of Bolivia – has encouraged the growing and use of the crop for things outside of the drug world. It seems to make some Americanos shake their heads, but there’s a legitimate need and use for the crop and more importantly it’s a Bolivian cultural tradition. Mate de cocoa is delicious and is a remedy for the high altitudes. But, I don’t think I’ll be bringing any home anytime soon.
I sipped on my tea, wrote a bit, and ran into Katerine once again. We talked a bit more, sharing travel experiences and then invited another patron at the restaurant, who was solo, to join us. Her name was Paula and was a Marlboro Red chain smoking Argentinean actress. Paula had been traveling for 2 weeks all through Bolivia. The more I spoke with them both the more I realized I wished I had more time to explore. Sudamerica will definitely be a future travel spot for me. Paula was discussing how the movie business is all lies (mentiras). She said that there’s been several movies taking place in China and else where, but filmed all in Argentina. She also said that the movie 7 years in Tibet was all filmed in Chile and Peru. I was trying to be funny and told her that she was lying and that that was my favorite movie. I guess my humor, however, was lost in translation, because they both just looked at me like I was crazy. Allright, moving on, I thought, and changed the subject. They were both very cool and it was fun talking with them and practicing Spanish. We said our good byes and I went to my hotel and crashed.
The flight to Bolivia
August 7 - 8, 2007
When I got to Mexico City it was like déjà vu. Jazzy and I had been there just 2 days earlier flying from Puerto Vallarta to LAX. I flew out of Mexico City from the same gate, in fact, that we waited at to leave just 2 days earlier. I had arrived with a 5-hour layover so I strolled around trying to practice mi espanol. Sometimes I failed miserably, but sometimes I did real well with the language. It was slowly coming back to me. It’s all about practicing and redefining your comfort zones. I spoke with one man, an Argentinean, named Flavian for some minutes before we departed. He offered some interesting information about his country – it boasts the most beautiful women and best beef to eat. Flavian had lived in Houston for two years, but preferred South America. We shared travel stories and laughed at how confusing we both found the language of the 4 Chinese gentlemen sitting in front of us.
On my flight to Peru I slept most of the way, but ran into some interesting individuals as well. First, I sat next to Linda, an American. She stole my seat, but no hard feelings because she gets motion sick. I figured a seat in the middle was better any day than a seat in danger of vomit. Linda works as a ski resort international employee recruiter. Yeah, I was like, what, too. She works at a resort somewhere in Park Slope (?), Utah that hires students from all over the world to work there. She basically gets paid to travel around the world to interview potential candidates. Over the next 3-4 weeks she will recruit in Peru, Argentina, Australia, and South Africa. I told her I wasn’t crazy about skiing, but I would dig her job. Sounds pretty cool.
Anyways, the flight wasn’t full so I was able to move to the more-spacious-but-far-from-first-class-status emergency seats, which my lanky behind needs. There I sat between a Brazilian and a Peruvian. Both were again very interesting and had incredible travel stories. Alfredo, the Brazilian, works for a medical equipment company in Brazil. There wasn’t a place I could mention – except the Philippines – that he hadn’t traveled to. He had even spent some time in Windhoek, the capital city of Namibia. He said he was getting tired of traveling, however. He just got married and hadn’t even had time to honeymoon. I asked him where he thought they would go and he said his wifey wanted to go to Orlando. I was like, Orlando? All the places in the world, and Orlando? Whatever floats your boat. Funny though, Alfredo boasted that Brazil had the best beef and the most beautiful women in the world.
Eduardo, the Peruvian to my right, is in charge of sales for a wireless telecommunications company based in Peru. He also had extensive traveling experiences. He most recently visited Israel. I had a more difficult time understanding his accent, so part of the conversation was a little shady for me. However, he reiterated how peaceful and beautiful the place was (the places in Israel he traveled that is). This paints a very different picture than what is often heard on the news in the States.
I finally made it to Peru, but my traveling via avion wasn’t quite finished. I had another 2-hour flight from Lima to La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. We arrived in Lima around 11:30 and my flight left at about 12:30. At this point I was feeling the jet lag. I had no idea what time it was or what day for that matter. Waiting for the flight I ran into a Bostonian. His name was Greg and is a special education teacher. He’s been teaching for about 7 years and him and his wife have taken muchas oportunidades to travel. He was headed to La Paz to chill for a couple of days to get used to the altitude (about 13,000 feet) then head back to Peru to climb some mountain that stands at 18,000 feet. His wife was going to meet him afterwards and they would travel a bit through Peru.
I finally made it to La Paz at about 3 am. I wasn’t set on any one plan. I wanted to get to Copacabana and tour Lake Titicaca, but I was exhausted as well. And, it was cold. It didn’t help that it was 3 in the morning, but I figured it would somehow work out (and it did). I befriended a Bolivian who is now living in San Diego. He was going to wait at the airport for an hour or so and then check into a hotel. He was traveling back to visit some of his family in the northern region of the country. I told him I had wanted to catch an early bus to Copacabana, but wasn’t quite sure how to do that. There was only one taxi remaining so we decided to split the fair and he would make sure to help me get to the bus station. We reached the station, which was just the corner of a street, and there were already some folks waiting to go. We were traveling via kambee buses, which aren’t full buses, more like a version of the VW buses. These buses were the method of travel in Namibia, so I felt right at home.
Now it was about 4 am and we departed. We drove through La Paz, stopping at various street corners to pick up more customers. It was cold. We drove for about 2.5 hours. I fell asleep. When I awoke to my left was a picturesque view of a lake coastline, the Andes Mountains in the distance, and the sun slowly rising. It was beautiful. The kambee ride stopped in Tiquina. At this point I had to take a motorboat across a portion of the lake. It cost 1.50 bolivianos (about 0.20 US). It was cold. When we reached the other side I hitched an ascending taxi ride to the top of a mountain and then down to the lakeshore town of Copacabana. Finally, I made it. I was poop tired. I found the first hostel I could and crashed. It was about 8:00 am. I had been traveling just over 24 hours. I slept till 3 in the afternoon…
When I got to Mexico City it was like déjà vu. Jazzy and I had been there just 2 days earlier flying from Puerto Vallarta to LAX. I flew out of Mexico City from the same gate, in fact, that we waited at to leave just 2 days earlier. I had arrived with a 5-hour layover so I strolled around trying to practice mi espanol. Sometimes I failed miserably, but sometimes I did real well with the language. It was slowly coming back to me. It’s all about practicing and redefining your comfort zones. I spoke with one man, an Argentinean, named Flavian for some minutes before we departed. He offered some interesting information about his country – it boasts the most beautiful women and best beef to eat. Flavian had lived in Houston for two years, but preferred South America. We shared travel stories and laughed at how confusing we both found the language of the 4 Chinese gentlemen sitting in front of us.
On my flight to Peru I slept most of the way, but ran into some interesting individuals as well. First, I sat next to Linda, an American. She stole my seat, but no hard feelings because she gets motion sick. I figured a seat in the middle was better any day than a seat in danger of vomit. Linda works as a ski resort international employee recruiter. Yeah, I was like, what, too. She works at a resort somewhere in Park Slope (?), Utah that hires students from all over the world to work there. She basically gets paid to travel around the world to interview potential candidates. Over the next 3-4 weeks she will recruit in Peru, Argentina, Australia, and South Africa. I told her I wasn’t crazy about skiing, but I would dig her job. Sounds pretty cool.
Anyways, the flight wasn’t full so I was able to move to the more-spacious-but-far-from-first-class-status emergency seats, which my lanky behind needs. There I sat between a Brazilian and a Peruvian. Both were again very interesting and had incredible travel stories. Alfredo, the Brazilian, works for a medical equipment company in Brazil. There wasn’t a place I could mention – except the Philippines – that he hadn’t traveled to. He had even spent some time in Windhoek, the capital city of Namibia. He said he was getting tired of traveling, however. He just got married and hadn’t even had time to honeymoon. I asked him where he thought they would go and he said his wifey wanted to go to Orlando. I was like, Orlando? All the places in the world, and Orlando? Whatever floats your boat. Funny though, Alfredo boasted that Brazil had the best beef and the most beautiful women in the world.
Eduardo, the Peruvian to my right, is in charge of sales for a wireless telecommunications company based in Peru. He also had extensive traveling experiences. He most recently visited Israel. I had a more difficult time understanding his accent, so part of the conversation was a little shady for me. However, he reiterated how peaceful and beautiful the place was (the places in Israel he traveled that is). This paints a very different picture than what is often heard on the news in the States.
I finally made it to Peru, but my traveling via avion wasn’t quite finished. I had another 2-hour flight from Lima to La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. We arrived in Lima around 11:30 and my flight left at about 12:30. At this point I was feeling the jet lag. I had no idea what time it was or what day for that matter. Waiting for the flight I ran into a Bostonian. His name was Greg and is a special education teacher. He’s been teaching for about 7 years and him and his wife have taken muchas oportunidades to travel. He was headed to La Paz to chill for a couple of days to get used to the altitude (about 13,000 feet) then head back to Peru to climb some mountain that stands at 18,000 feet. His wife was going to meet him afterwards and they would travel a bit through Peru.
I finally made it to La Paz at about 3 am. I wasn’t set on any one plan. I wanted to get to Copacabana and tour Lake Titicaca, but I was exhausted as well. And, it was cold. It didn’t help that it was 3 in the morning, but I figured it would somehow work out (and it did). I befriended a Bolivian who is now living in San Diego. He was going to wait at the airport for an hour or so and then check into a hotel. He was traveling back to visit some of his family in the northern region of the country. I told him I had wanted to catch an early bus to Copacabana, but wasn’t quite sure how to do that. There was only one taxi remaining so we decided to split the fair and he would make sure to help me get to the bus station. We reached the station, which was just the corner of a street, and there were already some folks waiting to go. We were traveling via kambee buses, which aren’t full buses, more like a version of the VW buses. These buses were the method of travel in Namibia, so I felt right at home.
Now it was about 4 am and we departed. We drove through La Paz, stopping at various street corners to pick up more customers. It was cold. We drove for about 2.5 hours. I fell asleep. When I awoke to my left was a picturesque view of a lake coastline, the Andes Mountains in the distance, and the sun slowly rising. It was beautiful. The kambee ride stopped in Tiquina. At this point I had to take a motorboat across a portion of the lake. It cost 1.50 bolivianos (about 0.20 US). It was cold. When we reached the other side I hitched an ascending taxi ride to the top of a mountain and then down to the lakeshore town of Copacabana. Finally, I made it. I was poop tired. I found the first hostel I could and crashed. It was about 8:00 am. I had been traveling just over 24 hours. I slept till 3 in the afternoon…
July 30 hasta 6 de Agosto
I flew into Los Angeles on the night of July 30 from Raleigh, NC. On the 31st Jasmeen took me to Camelot grounds, which is a huge arcade plaza. We played putt-putt and laser tag. I waxed her at both games. She might tell you a different story, but that’s the truth ;( That night we went to Medieval Times, which was cool. You wear a crown and watch knights joust and sling crazy weapons at each other. You also get to eat with your bare hands which is nice, doin’ it Medieval style.
On the first we flew to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. We stayed there until the 5th. Puerto Vallarta is a beautiful beach town, though a bit touristy. There are huge mountains surrounding the ocean waters and plenty of Pina Coladas to be found. The waves weren’t too spectacular, but apparently just some miles south of the city there are great waves for surfing. We spent a lot of time just relaxing at the beach, drinking pina coladas and Mexican snow-cones (kinda like a white Russian with a little pizzaz), and eating a lot of tacos. At night the hotel where we stayed offered entertainment shows. One night they had a Broadway show performance, another night there was a Disney show, and then they also had a discoteca as well. Jazzy made fun of my dance moves and I have to admit that’s not the first time that’s happened. We ran into a wedding party group from Calgary and chilled with them. I asked how they could afford to invite 85 people to a weeklong wedding in Mexico, but he said it was actually a lot cheaper. Apparently they invited people and were like if you can pay for it we’ll see you there. He said that the costs for an 85 person wedding party in the States or in Canada would be much more expensive. Sounds like a cool idea. At the beach there were a lot of vendors selling t-shirts, hats, silver, beach toys, women’s sarongs, and more silver. The vendors, wearing white, would walk the beach and ask and ask and ask if you wanted to just look at what they were selling. One senor said, “just give me one Mexican second.” I was like, what’s a Mexican second, and he replied, “like two minutes.” Puerto Vallarta was great!
The day after we returned Jazzy’s family had a party – Long Beach style. It was a blast. A whole lot of eatin’, listenin’ to music, playin’ cards with her 4 year old cousin Jameel – he beat me at a mixed up version of Old Maid, and just enjoyin’ chattin’ with folks. I was sad to leave, but excited to check out Bolivia.
On the first we flew to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. We stayed there until the 5th. Puerto Vallarta is a beautiful beach town, though a bit touristy. There are huge mountains surrounding the ocean waters and plenty of Pina Coladas to be found. The waves weren’t too spectacular, but apparently just some miles south of the city there are great waves for surfing. We spent a lot of time just relaxing at the beach, drinking pina coladas and Mexican snow-cones (kinda like a white Russian with a little pizzaz), and eating a lot of tacos. At night the hotel where we stayed offered entertainment shows. One night they had a Broadway show performance, another night there was a Disney show, and then they also had a discoteca as well. Jazzy made fun of my dance moves and I have to admit that’s not the first time that’s happened. We ran into a wedding party group from Calgary and chilled with them. I asked how they could afford to invite 85 people to a weeklong wedding in Mexico, but he said it was actually a lot cheaper. Apparently they invited people and were like if you can pay for it we’ll see you there. He said that the costs for an 85 person wedding party in the States or in Canada would be much more expensive. Sounds like a cool idea. At the beach there were a lot of vendors selling t-shirts, hats, silver, beach toys, women’s sarongs, and more silver. The vendors, wearing white, would walk the beach and ask and ask and ask if you wanted to just look at what they were selling. One senor said, “just give me one Mexican second.” I was like, what’s a Mexican second, and he replied, “like two minutes.” Puerto Vallarta was great!
The day after we returned Jazzy’s family had a party – Long Beach style. It was a blast. A whole lot of eatin’, listenin’ to music, playin’ cards with her 4 year old cousin Jameel – he beat me at a mixed up version of Old Maid, and just enjoyin’ chattin’ with folks. I was sad to leave, but excited to check out Bolivia.
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