La Paz

Feb. 21, 2006- Breath of Fresh Air

We’re still short of breath walking steps but it’s better. We’re sleeping well and drinking lots of bottled water. The altitude meds we’re taking (diamox) make the heart beat faster. That makes us breathe faster and take in more oxygen. It’s odd that I can walk up steps and talk but when I get to the top my heart is racing. Slow deep breaths are suggested to slow things down.

La Paz is also the home to the highest basketball courts with the shortest players. Balls get more bounce and propulsion for the effort since the air is so thin. Golfers love it. Airliners are specially designed for high altitude landings. The oxygen masks usually deploy around 10,000 feet when pressurization is lost. Here they’re designed so they won’t drop when the airplane door is opened at 13,300 feet. The tires are unique and the engines need extra force to take of in thin air. You’d think that the planes could just sail off the top of the mountain and fly but they actually need longer runways. One positive about the lack of oxygen in the air is that people rarely smoke. I asked what the average size of a newborn is since I couldn’t imagine a woman under 5 feet delivering an eight-pounder. They run around five pounds. To end the litany of factoids I’d like to teach you a new word. Cumbreros are thieves who steal bowler hats. Evidently the pricier ones made of finer alpaca wool go for $300-400. There seems to be a big “hot” hat market here.

Looking Out & Inward

We drove up to a lookout point for photo-ops. We looked down into La Paz and onto flat-roofed terra-cotta houses. They spilled up the side of the hills like Bolognese sauce overflowing its bowl. Poverty is always more beautiful from afar. There were 250 rivers carrying gold into the bowl when the Spaniards came in 1535. No wonder they were so excited.

Our guide, Pedro was bemoaning the fact that Bolivia once had a seaport, but it has lost every war it has fought…even the one with Paraguay. Each war reduced the size of the country so that it’s now called Little Peru. He segued into the Indians reconnecting with the ancient religion. He said that they really sacrifice 2,000 llamas in August. They’re what we would call kosher slaughtered. Their throats are slit. The entrails are read and most bury the carcasses. Some are eaten. During times of illness they believe that parts of the spirit leave the body. If it’s a minor injury, you can call your own spirit back. In more serious cases a Shaman is called. He brings a guinea pig that he kills and disembowels. The entrails are read to determine the seriousness, area affected, and treatment. Treatment is with natural medicines in order to reconnect the good energy and drive out the bad.

We went to the Witch’s Market and saw more evidence of the old ways. Naturally aborted dried llama fetuses are sold to those building a new house. Old ways not only die hard but the number of Indians following Catholicism is decreasing. My friend Judi and I bought no llama fetuses but in other negotiations we learned that the “ultimo” (best) price vendors came down to as a matter of course wasn’t the lowest. We played calculator roulette with each party entering their offer and walked away happy.

Venturing Forth

I asked Pedro how gays are thought of and treated here. He said that S. America is a chauvinistic society but progress is being made. A few years ago gays were allowed into the military. The president of the tour guide association is gay and a good friend of his. There are now parades and pride day. A prominent lesbian politician is running for office and should win. He’ll vote for her. We passed several well-manicured parks on our way to lunch at the Oberland Hotel, a small Swiss owned place. Part of the buffet was llama meat. It was in a sauce and much better than the shoe-leather we had last night. Bolivia has just started exporting it to Germany. It’s lean and packed with more protein than chicken.

We ventured to the Valley of the Moon, which is an area of those sandstone pillars I described yesterday. When we returned to the hotel David and I took off to locate the synagogue. It was a short distance away. We found it, it had no marking indicating what was inside, and it was closed. So what’s new? A vendor nearby told us it was open on Sabado.

Bolivia is a bargain. You can get a lunch of a wrap, fries, and Coke for under a dollar. They’re just gearing up for tourism and I’m sure things will change. They no longer use their small gauge railroad because it was too slow and haven’t replaced it. The signs aren’t bi-lingual and even the woman in the gift shop at our hotel doesn’t speak English.

Pedro has a good sense of humor. He suggested that Bolivia market itself as Revolutions Are Us. They’re had five presidents in the last two years. He said they could hire out to anyplace that doesn’t like its president. Any takers?

Dinner tonight was at Dumbo’s. It’s a Bolivian Denny’s. The food was average and it cost all of $5 for the two of us. We topped it off with a 50-cent big mound of ice-cream and headed for the hotel. We leave for Lake Titicaca tomorrow.

Toby

Landing High

Feb. 20, 2006-La Paz
(Photos:Street hawker,
Typical Bolivian attire)

I slept more on the flight to Bolivia than on any other flight. We landed on time, our luggage arrived, and the Overseas Adventure Travel representative was right where he was supposed to be. This is the first year OAT has returned to Bolivia after the political unrest. David remarked that when we came down to land at 13,000+ feet altitude we didn’t have very far to go. Our landing threaded between the snow-covered Andes and onto the tarmac with a rather stiff legged bump.

We’ve been taking diamox for altitude sickness and it may be working. We’re tired but aren’t experiencing nausea, swelling, sleeplessness, headaches, and dizziness. We are a bit winded but that will fade. We also had a cup of cacao tea, which is supposed to help.

Pedro, our guide took us to La Plaza Hotel. He’s a college graduate, majored in tourism and was in the Bolivian navy. Since the country is landlocked he made a joke of it. He served on Lake Titicaca. He told us a bit about the area. Bolivia has the highest airport, the highest soccer stadium, and the shortest people. Non-Bolivians call them “duck-chested” because of the adaptation of their barrel chests to increased lung capacity. They have 30% more red blood cells as well due to the altitude. When they go down to lower levels they suffer as we do at the higher ones.

La Paz is 1500 feet lower than the airport and sits in a natural bowl that once contained a sea. Sandstone pillars that look like sand castles giant children might have built frame the approach to the city. Bolivia has the largest Indian population in South America and, yes, the women do wear bowler hats that look two sizes too small. The fashion was appropriated from the English and Scottish who settled here. The bowler has become as essential to women’s dress as the tie has become to the business suit.

The hotel has five-stars on the door but I rate it a three-minus. It’s clean but the rooms are shabby. Lunch was buffet style and we fell in love with a typical soup made with tapioca called quinua (keen-wah). Our rooms overlook Mt. Illimani, which is the desirable exposure away from the street noise, ho wever,between our view and the mountain is a school. We napped despite announcements over the public address system, a rousing soccer game, and band practice. Uphill

We rested for an hour after lunch and all but four joined in an afternoon stroll lasting 2 ½ hours. The major part was all up hill. We were winded at times but caught our breath easily and went on. The dozen or so steps leading into a bank were an unforeseen challenge but we survived that too. At the end of the walk we were doing much better.

Pedro’s command of English is superb. He shepherded us through daunting traffic and introduced us to Bolivian street culture by pointing out the men in blue vests. Their job is to rent you the use of their cell phones. The masked men who looked like banditos were in the shoeshine business. Their faces are wrapped in heavy wool swaths so only their eyes show. Shoe shining is thought to be the lowest of low work a Boliviano can do. Many of the workers are teens and are teased mercilessly by their peers if it becomes known what they do to earn money. The masks aren’t to protect them from the polish fumes but from harassment and humiliation.

One enterprise I’d never seen until today was the building and selling of models for school children to buy instead of building themselves. When assignments are made to build a model of a certain street with historic buildings, the model-makers get busy and hawk the ready-made wares. Imagine the market for science projects. One thing about this city; there are lots of dogs but the streets are pretty clean. But the people and especially the children don’t smile. They don’t even look happy when they’re paid to have their picture taken or money is dropped in their cup when they entertain. Sad.

Pedro explained that the mountains are still holy symbols of mother earth to the Indians. The traditional dress of the indigenous women echo that shape. They are narrow at the top with the bowler hat to mark the peak, their shawls flare out into an inverted triangle, and the costume ends with a flared multi-layered skirt reminiscent of the Spanish petticoats. Even though most have converted to Catholicism, the Indians still observe ancient traditions. Every August 1,000 llamas are sacrificed for Mother Earth. Greenpeace has a huge problem with that and have urged them not to kill so many “for nothing.” The Indians take offense since the offering is for their belief, not for nothing.

Background

Simon Bolivar brought independence to Bolivia in 1835, but Indians didn’t gain their freedom until 1953. Even though they built the grandest church in La Paz they weren’t allowed in to pray in it until the 1970’s. The church has stained glass windows circa the 1980’s and the most prominent one behind the pulpit depicts angels singing, politicians, and soldiers.

Pedro was excited to see a peaceful demonstration in Plaza Murillo. In 2003 there were riots, bullets fired, and many died. Although soldiers stood ready looking like Ninja Turtles in full battle gear with tufted bulletproof vests and shields there was no violence. The plaza is a bloody site where executions of every sadistic bent have taken place. Across the street we stopped at the mausoleum of Andres De Santa Cruz, the real father of Bolivia. He was a mestizo leader who picked up the marbles after Bolivar sashayed into town, pronounced independence, and left everyone at loose ends. Santa Cruz was a lawyer and soldier who brought order to independence. He died a pauper in France in his 50’s.

Pedro mentioned a couple of celebrities who blew into town around 1911. Evidently this is where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid settled. They were intent on finding the central bank and robbing it but banking wasn’t that organized back then. They stayed on and worked in the mines.

We came upon what was called Jewish Street and is now Commerce St. There used to be a sizeable Jewish community here and there’s still a synagogue that we may or may not find. Pedro said that most of the Jews went to Argentina and the U.S.

Today Bolivia and Peru are talking about an alliance that would rank their gas reserves ahead of Venezuela. They’re enjoying a peaceful interlude between upheavals and are hopeful about the future. Peace comes to an end next week. It’s Carnivale. We get to experience it in Peru.

Tonight I ate llama. It’s an animal that would be considered kosher and fit to eat since it has cloven hooves and chews its cud. I know it wasn’t one they sacrificed last August. Pedro said that they bury them all. Llama doesn’t taste like chicken. It has a beefy flavor with a slight undertone of liver.

Toby

Bolivia & Peru

Feb. 19, 2006-Getting to Miami, Florida

I hope to be able to send you these emails as we travel, but if it’s too difficult to find Internet sites where I can send I may wait until we get back to Akron and send your installments then. AOL limits the number of emails I can send at one time to 50 before they close our account for sending spam. If there is someone you’d like to forward these to please do so.

The fun began before we even got to Bolivia. We drove to Miami, our point of departure for S. America. We wanted to see my cousins Evelyn and David in Boynton Beach and visit my parents’ graves in Orlando and David’s parents’ in Miami. The first event was while we were still in Akron. David’s VISA card broke in half. Fortunately we were able to call VISA and have them overnight a new card to my cousins’.

The next “event” was on the highway between Charlotte, N. Carolina and Columbia, S. Carolina. There was what turned out to be a one-hour traffic jam. David was trying to change lanes when a semi stopped to let him merge. As we were halfway into the lane the truck began to move forward. I urged David to hurry into the lane since the truck kept on rolling. We had just gotten settled in our new slot when we felt a bump from behind. The truck had rear-ended us. As David flew out of our car to call the driver a few choice names, we got bumped again. I was afraid that David would get into a fight since he was the one overcome with road rage. The trucker got out of the cab holding his cell phone. He was very apologetic and said he’d been talking to his dispatcher and hadn’t seen us at all. He was extremely nice considering what David had called his mother and what David said he could do with the phone. We pulled our car up and there was no damage. We must have still been rolling when he tapped us.

Then not to lack for things to write you, David realized at 4AM in Orlando that he’d forgotten half of one of the meds he takes. When he was counting pills he failed to account for the fact that he takes them twice a day. Through that experience we learned that our insurance company pharmacy is open 24-hours a day. They were very helpful and since David had a refill on the script they authorized our CVS Pharmacy in Akron to send the script to an Orlando pharmacy. The next morning we had the pills.

I don’t want to come off as being perfect so I’ll confess that when we left the motel in Orlando to go to the pharmacy and the cemetery I forgot our laundry bag in our room. After a quick call we turned around and they had the laundry waiting at the front desk.

The rest of our journey has been uneventful. We are now waiting with our traveling companion & long time friend from Washington, DC, Judi Cope, at the Miami airport. We’re catching up on gossip and waiting to go to La Paz.

Toby