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Main | Journal: La Paz, Pt.1 | ||
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La Paz, Bolivia Wednesday, June 2 Ouch! Ouch! Bump, Bump, Thwack, Thwack, Whooooooo...
Sorry for the auxiliary noise, but I'm trying to hold the computer
steady atop the 4x4. We have a good view of the terrain from our bench
seats, but I'm a bit worried that since we don't have any seat belts,
there is nothing to restrain me from flying off the top of the truck.
After all, this treacherous road was not made for a pleasant day trip
to or from the jungle. More likely, it has been hit by several land
mines that have left these gaping, unavoidable crevasses. Fortunately,
the driver is taking some precautions since he has a bad case of the
"runs" and has slowed down for several of the significant holes.
Anyway, I couldn't wait to tell you about our trip to the jungle and
days preceding it, so pardon our dust...and Elliot's frequent screams
of terror while I recount our exciting tales.
Due to Elliot's short time horizon, we zoomed through the Lake Titicaca
area in just a couple of days. Highlights from the area included the
"Floating" Islands and the Isla del Sol. The so-called Floating
Islands were a bit of a disappointment as we could not feel even a
faint tremble on any of them. One of the local Aymaran people
explained that the weather was too cold, thus the islands were not
floating on that particular day. This explanation confused me as the
area is supposed to have one of the most consistent climates in the
world...Moving on to the Bolivian side of the lake, we jetted out to
the Isla del Sol for a day of fun in the sun. Whilst aboard the boat
to the island, a friend read aloud about our destination and discovered
that in order to arrive at the hotel, we must climb uphill for two
kilometers! Employing lessons learned from the Inca Trail, I purchased
the services of two eager young boys to help me bring my baggage to the
top. Although they struggled mightily, they responded to my
encouragement and managed to lug my heavy packs to the top. I rewarded
them with a Boliviano (about 20 cents) apiece for their efforts. The
only other notable aspect of our visit to the island was the incredible
views afforded by the window of our room. But we've already heard
enough about that tired old scene.
Continuing on in the spirit of our planes, trains, and automobiles (and
other forms of transportation) theme, we looked on from about three
leagues away as our bus to La Paz was brought across a river by a
narrow barge. Somehow, the rough seas that nearly toppled our little
passenger tug boat had less of an affect on the bus carrying all of my
worldly possessions.
Entering La Paz, one could quickly discover a few obvious
characteristics about the highest (in altitude) capital city in the
world. A taxi ride through downtown elicits sounds similar to those
that one may hear at the nearest amusement park. A ride through NYC is
a peaceful bliss compared to the screeching and swerving of taxis,
avoiding obstacle courses of people lining every street. I think that
a Meijer or a Wal-Mart could not only bring every-day-low-pricing to La
Paz, but it could also save several the trouble of the extra leg
amputations required by the street peddlers, selling everything from
shampoo to soccer balls.
Our fervor to quickly reach the jungle was tempered upon our arrival to
the city as all flights (one every other day) to Rurrenabaque (Rurre,
for short) were full for the following days. To make an agonizingly
long story shorter, we managed to get seats on the plane due to some
shady dealings brokered by our tour agent, who we later screwed over
anyway by going with a different agency. Fortunately, our flight was
delayed by a DAY because the grassy landing field in Rurre was dampened
by the rainfall of the previous evening. I say fortunately, because
the delay allowed us to go to a bar, full of Brits, and cheer as
Manchester United defeated Bayern Munich in the European Football
Association championship match. Probably the most exciting soccer
finish I have ever witnessed, the Brits scored the tying and winning
goals in extra time to the delight of the crowd and the barkeepers who
unleashed eight bottles of champagne on a group that certainly did not
need it...
(At this point, I would like to apologize for the length of this
correspondence, but I have decided to chronicle my adventures in a book
at the conclusion of my trip. Therefore, I must capture as much
content as possible during the journey. Just consider these e-mails a
first cut. If I am taking too much of your time, please feel free to
opt off of this list. Alternatively, please feel free to offer any
suggestions that may help me make these messages shorter, if
necessary.)
...I don't know who that guy was but just ignore him as usual. Anyway,
by the good grace of the man upstairs, we landed safely in the middle
of nowhere, an alternate site to our destination since the "runway" was
still wet. Why they couldn't have figured this plan out twenty-four
hours earlier continues to be an unsolved mystery. So we were forced
to pay an extra fee to be taken to our original destination. (Don't
ask.)
That evening, after several stops along the way to get out and push the
van, literally push the van ourselves through the mud--don't worry I
took pictures of this--the guide took us to a few discotecas in the
area, which surprisingly is populated by 9,000 Bolivians. After an hour
of being tortured by awful karaoke music, being paraded in front of the
locals as freaks of nature, and being forced to dance with women both
half and double my age, we decided that getting some rest for the
upcoming jungle trip would be a sound idea.
I quickly lost all trust in our guide when he deemed the brown, murky
water safe for swimming, since the so-called "pink" dolphins were
swimming near us. I say so-called because I expected to actually see a
pink creature swimming through the river. Although the dolphins have
some sort of pink dot or something somewhere on the exterior of their
bodies, I was a tad disappointed. However, the dolphins are said to be
the most aggressive animals in the water, sufficient enough to scare
away the crocodiles and other such predators that may like to feast on
human flesh. After swimming for about ten minutes, we started to climb
slowly back into the boat until we witnessed a crocodile slithering
into the water. Needless to say, our pace to reach the safe haven of
the long, canoe-like structure, quickened considerably after our
sighting.
Along our merry way to the campsite, we noticed several impressive
species. My favorites were the yellow and red monkeys swinging from
tree to tree and the hordes of turtles fornicating on various logs.
Unfortunately, the sound of our motor frightened the turtles and they
summarily plopped into the water at their first opportunities. I must
say that I did not care for our guides penchant for aiming the boat
straight at every crocodile that we passed in order to give us better
looks. I seemed to be the closest person to the crocs, no matter where
I was situated in the boat.
Not having learned from our earlier crocodile encounter, we happily
plunged into the water once we reached the campsite. I must now take
the opportunity to thank my colleague, Dr. Elliot Sperber, who in his
right-thinking mind, managed to pick up mosquito bracelets before he
left. Supposedly, these fiercesome cocktail party attention getters
were to ward off the mosquitoes, not otherwise repelled by my 95%
concoction of Deet. Somehow, a few daring mosquitoes managed to
penetrate our barracks and left several itchy, red dots anyway. Keep
on it, Coleman!
There are other stories about anacondas and sloths, but I think I'm
beginning to bore you. Furthermore, the really rough part of the road
is immediately ahead and I need to put the computer away again. Until
next time...
Dan
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