the beginning of the end

sitting in a little internet cafe
on a dark, cold, windy otoño morning in buenos aires
listening to bob dylan
on my last day in this continent
this adventure
this crazy part of my life

how does it feel?

it feels like a million lifetimes.
it feels like i gave up a lot.
it feels like i gained the world.
it feels like my eyes have taken in more than they ever could have known.
it feels like my feet have gone further than they ever expected to go.
it feels like my eyes have cried themselves out.
it feels like a stitch in my side from all the laughter.
it feels like a drop in my stomach and a short intake of breath; as i crossed the andes mountains, as i rode a horse through the patagonian dessert, as i saw the sunset over rio de la plata, as i drank the most delicious wine in mendoza, as i saw the steep hills of la paz lit up at night, as i flew over the amazon in a small airplane, as i swam with river dolphins in the jungle, as i smelled the earth and sky and water.
it feels like that moment when your lips first touch anothers.
it feels like that moment when you say goodbye forever.
it feels like this is the beginning of the end.
or the beginning of another beginning.

bob dylan said it best.

tonight, i get on a plane at 10:30pm. i will fly, fly, fly back to the real (?) world, out of this crazy dream.

adventure of a lifetime

the perfect end of this trip. i couldnt ask for anything more.

the last few days of la paz were lovely (aside from the hostel situation). a few of us had formed a little group that tried to stay away from the party scene in la paz. the family gordo: amanda, shawn, olaf & i: plus mike, who i am pretty sure can be considered part of the family by now. on saturday night, we all enjoyed a wonderful meal at a dutch restaurant near the witches market in el centro, much to amanda´s delight (she was finally recovered from a bit of food sickness).

later that night, the family gordo, plus mike´s traveling buddy cal, and the rest of room 26 (andrew and evan, our crazy australians roommates and our awesome israeli roommate dori) all decided to go out for a night on the town. it was great to get away from loki, wonderful to walk among the revelers in the streets (the festival was still raging), and a perfect last night for amanda and i.

mongos club turned out to be just what we needed. a mixture of bolivians and hostel kids, and the music was on one of those magical playlists in which every song makes everyone scream and whoop, "ahh this song is amazing!" we sang and danced and sweated the night away. i think the recent accident was definitely on everyones mind still though. most of us sipped at one, maybe two drinks at the most the whole night.

by 4 the bar closed down and we all returned to loki (room 26 of course, our little sanctuary) to talk and laugh for several more hours. we finally all drifted to our beds and slept in a bit the next day. amanda and i had to pack and check out by 1, and catch our little flight to rurrenabaque by 4. after hugs for all our boys (AND we convinced mike to join us in rurre!), us girls got a cab to the airport.

the flight was a quick 2 hours in a tiny plane, pleasant enough for me but an ordeal for amanda (even after a happy pill and me telling funny stories to distract her). we arrived on a grassy runway in the midst of the most gorgeous place i have EVER seen in my entire life. stepping off the plane we felt this hot, humid wind and we were drenched in this delicious jungle smell. exotic birds chirped and called and squawked for miles around. the sky was a shocking blue and the mountains surrounding us were pure jungle. we walked to the small hut that was the airport and found a taxi to town. the town itself was a slice of paradise. small huts and little buildings, all with abundant hammocks and seemingly no windows or doors. dark brown children played in the dusty streets and smiled at us. motorbikes with shoeless women and shirtless men zipped around. tropical plants spilled over garden walls and there were parrots everywhere. at santa ana hostel, we were shown through a large, lush garden to a small room with neat beds and nice big fan. amanda and i quickly shed our cold weather clothes for bathing suit tops, flowy skirts and flip flops. this was vacation.

rurrenabaque is amazing. the people are ten times friendlier than in la paz. life is slow. since amanda and i had a while until the boys (shawn, olaf and mike) arrived by their long 18 hour bus ride, we explored the town. and by explore, i mean deciding to take 3 hour siestas in hammocks, working on on tans, sitting at bamboo cafes sipping caiparinas, reading for hours and drinking milkshakes. so great.

on tuesday, the boys arrived, bringing a new member of the group: jamie. apparantly they met the austalian guy on the bus and all four guys hit it off. within a few hours, we all (minus shawn, he wanted to take a different tour later on) booked a 3 day tour of the pampas with a small guide company. perfect.

olaf and i decided to rent a motor bike for a while. for 25 bolivianos an hour (3 US dollars. ridiculously amazing) we found ourselves zipping all over town, me on the back riding side saddle with my flowy white skirt and snapping amazing photos.

wednesday we packed up all over things and headed to the pampas. our two guides, donato (an old amazing bolivian man) and ronny (this tiny, tough, 20-something bolivian dude who carried, at all times, a huge knife at his side with his name carved in it), loaded our stuff on top of an old jeep and we piled in for the 3 hour ride to the river. joining the five of us loki kids was an australian couple and a canadian paralegal. the eight of us were soon joking around and getting excited for the trip.

at the river, we unloaded the vehicle and reloaded everything into a long, thin, canoe-type boat. we sat on benches two wide and surveyed our surroundings. a natural mud-brown river flowed serenely through a thick, untamable mass of jungle trees. as we started off down the river, we were greeted by an endless succession of alligators, coral monkeys, howler monkeys, caimens, turtles, pink river dolphins, and of course, all the birds: large birds, noisy birds, fast birds and plain old weird birds. ronny kept pointing out the different species and we snapped photos like crazy. it was so unbelievable.

after 3 or 4 hours we arrived at our campsite. it was a small cabin with eight beds and mosquito nets. the other hut on the property was for the preparation of our meals, which we would come to enjoy greatly.

the next two days consisted of activities i never would have dreamed i would someday do. midnight alligator spotting (their eyes glow red), hiking through the pampas looking for anacondas, fishing for pirhanas, getting up close with coral monkeys, feeling the brush of bat wings across your cheek, and swimming with pink river dolphins. the scenery was breathe-taking too. one night, we took our little boat up the river to a small hut that sold cold beverages. we sat on the balcony and watched the sun set over the jungle. amazing.

on friday, we woke up at dawn to watch the sun rise over the pampas. after a bit of pirhana fishing and a subsequent lunch of pirhanas, i swam a bit in the river (yes, i swam in alligator and pirhana infested waters), covered myself in mud one last time (yes, maybe there were times when i ran around in just a bathing suit and covered myself in mud like an amazon woman. it felt great and kept the mosquitos away) and then we packed up. we loaded up the boats, sounded the horn, and set off for rurrenabaque. the last afternoon and evening in rurrenabaque i was pretty tired and actually turned in early. saturday morning we all enjoyed a quick breakfast together before jamie and i had to head to the bus station. because i have to get back to buenos aires by wednesday and jamie had a commitment in la paz on sunday, us two were taking the first mode of transportation of rurre: the 18 hour bus ride, part of which goes over the most dangerous road in the world.

the whole group walked to the bus station to say goodbye to us. man, it was hard to say farewell to these people. amanda, who i traveled with for so many weeks. shawn, my "dad" of the trip. mike, my bitish buddy, always good for a great conversation and some laughs. and olaf, well of course it was hard to say goodbye to that dutch boy. they all stood outside the bus as it pulled away and i just wanted to cry.

and then there was the 18 hour bus ride. well, needless to say i survived. i was so nervous before the bus ride that jamie (being a medical student and all, i trust his advice) showed me a particular pill that would just calm me down a bit on the trip. it certainly did, and i slept a good four hours, right through the death road bit. by 2 in the morning, i was freezing and feeling not so hot. every time i eat road side food... man, any food in bolivia should be avoided. about half the time i have eaten food in bolivia i have had a stomachache or worse. yuck.

but we made it. jamie and i dragged ourselves to a little hostel this morning at 6 and slept on the floor in the lobby until reception opened for the morning. today i am planning on just strolling around, napping, and preparing for my 23 hour bus journey to the border of bolivia, and the many bus trips beyond that. one day down, three to go.

words / concepts of the day:

transportation in bolivia: once again, it never ceases to amaze me. for flights, you can take a tiny single engine plane out of the military airport. a bit sketch, but they actually serve you crackers on board. once you land in rurre, its just a grassy strip. the only bus to rurre, though, is an 18 hour ride, 3 of which go through the death road.
the death road: pretty self explanatory. the most dangerous road in the world, according to some census that i am shamelessly not citing right now. officially known as the north yungas road, it leads from la paz to coroico, and estimates quote 200-300 deaths a year. the road is ridiculously narrow, unpaved, with cliffs hundreds of feet steep on either side. tired bus drivers loom around curves and often collide with oncoming vehicles.
the death ride: if riding in a bus isnt scary enough for you, many people attempt to mountain bike down this 65 kilometer stretch of downhill road. the result: a t-shirt to prove you did it, possibly quite a beating, and possibly death (a girl from england died on the road a few weeks before i arrived). olaf did the death road, and the guy in front of him fell so he fell too.

this is bolivia

T.I.B. this is bolivia. thats the phrase invented by amanda and shawn, and it is most commonly used at moments when you are stuck in a crowd, with rusted taxis speeding at you, with old bolivian women screaming for money and pulling on your jacket, no cash at the machines, absolute trash and rotten food littering the gutters, no doctors when accidents happen and no guarantee about anything in the world. this is bolivia, TIB, get used to it.

and yet, i have found this little slice of sheltered life away from the craziness and amazingness that is la paz. it is loki hostel, 160 beds strong, more than enough brits and australians than you will ever want to see, and the craziest nightlife in all of la paz and a temporary home to the family gordo: amanda, shawn, me and the newest member: olaf.

for the last four days, i have wandered the witches market of la paz, brushed my hands over seemingly hundreds of llama sweaters and hand woven bankets, ate countless food on the streets for one boliviano, listened to everything from reggaeton to traditional bolivian music to endless death cab, at the hostel. the family gordo has also spent hours catching each other up on our traveling adventures.

on thursday, the four of us decided to make some more adventurous plans. next stop, the bolivian jungle. how, you ask? well, 3 hours by plane and 18 by bus, there is a small village in centra bolivia called rurrenabaque. from rurre, we can enter mididi national park and see the magnificance of the amazon or the varied wildlife of las pampas. sort of amazing. we booked some flights for sunday. cant wait!

until then, the four of us are enjoying our time in la paz. wandering the streets, going out for food, nights at the hostel bar and just hanging out. loki hostel is definitely the most addicting sort of hostel like i have encountered, but not without some darker drawbacks. one thing that is difficult for me to understand is the dozens of 18 year old british girls, full of perfume, makeup and teased hair, seemingly only in la paz to party. two, the availability of drugs here is out of control. colombia is nothing. if you are into cocaine, just head over to ¨36,¨ the local coke bar. people who end up at 36 will probably find themselves back at the hostel the following afternoon, either tweaking out or ready to pass out for two days. its bad news. evan, one of my roommates, has been in bed for over 2 days because of 36.

third, and saddest truth of all about party hostels. last night, after half the kids in the hostel went to the bar and the other half went to bed, two australian guys stayed up drinking. they were, as the hostel found out later, pretty far gone. one of the poor aussies, in one second that could of gone a thousand different ways, leaned out over the old railing overlooking the courtyard. and in the moment of time, he fell. in less than a heartbeat, his neck was broken and his life was over. the end.

i found out the next morning. it shook me up pretty bad. i didnt know him, but he was one of a dozen fun loving kids i have met on my travels. it could have been any one of us. a freak accident.

tomorrow, the four of us leave for rurrenabaque. today is el gran poder, the biggest festival of the year. even now, i hear the beat of drums and the endless parade on avenida santa cruz. tonight, the people of la paz will fill the streets with dancing and singing. the family gordo will celebrate our last night in la paz, before heading off to the jungle.

words / concepts of the day:

altitude sickness: forgot to explain about this! in high places, the oxygen content is actually lower, making it harder for your body to get that O2 to needed places. for a better explanation, wikipedia it. but, for some odd reason, chewing on, or consuming tea made with coca leaves alleviates the symptoms. the old bolivian women here stuff handfuls of coca leaves in their mouth ike potato chips. sort of hardcore.
rurrenabaque: hard to pronounce. a small city of about 13,000 at the edge of the jungle. its hot, humid and full of hammocks. madidi national park is near by, which covers a huge section of bolivia. inside the park, indiginous peoples such as tacana, the mosete, the tsimane and the ese ejja are still allowed to live in their traditional societies: hunting, gathering and navigating their way down the beni river. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madidi)
le gran poder: the full name is La Fiesta del Señor Jesús del Gran Poder, and it is a merging of pre-colombian cultural festivals and the catholic faith. the exact reason for the festivities is sort of vague, but http://gosouthamerica.about.com/od/bolartandculture/qt/ElGranPoder.htm does a good job of explaining.

surviving bolivian buses

journey of my life. holy crap.

so, i stayed in salta on sunday night and spent monday exploring. i took a gondola up to a hill outside of town and saw the sights. san lorenzeo, about 11 kilometers by bus, was pretty but everything seemed to be closed on a monday afternoon. i finally just decided to chill at an internet cafe, eat some spaghetti and chill at the hostel (in that order).

after being entertained (and later, harassed and annoyed) by some drunk saltenos at the hostel, i finally got my pack and headed to the bus terminal at midnight. yes i was taking a midnight bus to the border. sounds sketchy. but i had no idea. this was only the beginning!

the bus left at almost 1, with about 4 other brave tourists and two bolivian women. and wow, it was cold. maybe it was the lack of people on the bus to create heat, or the fact that we were heading for more mountainous regions, i dont know. but the temperatures on the bus definitely dipped down to about 40 degrees farenheit. i shivered my way through 7 hours and woke from a snooze to see ice covered windows. i scratched a hole in the ice and noticed that we had arrived at the border!

outside the bus things got confusing. i clumped with the other confused tourists and we managed to get taxis to the border. from there, the 5 of us walked across a bridge with our packs and entered the customs office. i proudly displayed my bolivian visa and health certificate, the ones that had taken me two weeks to get. the officer didnt even look at them! he just stamped my passport and waved me on. gah.

and then, just like like that, i was in bolivia! the 5 of us got cabs to the bus terminal, where a man asked where i wanted to go. i answered, in a daze, la paz. he ushered me to a small office and five minutes later, i was holding a ticket for a bus to la paz. it left in one hour! how lucky.

and thus began my epic adventure on a bolivian bus. i boarded the bus right as it pulled in, determined to not give up my seat (i have been told that this happens). my seat buddy was an old bolivian man who chatted with me the whole way. as the bus filled up, more and more people kept getting on. there were no seats left, but people stood in the aisles. as the bus finally roared to a start, i realized that this was 1. not an argentine andesmar type bus and 2. probably not going to play bingo.

the bus took off at an alarming speed and one old man standing in the aisle next to me fell into my lap. then, as the bus exited the town for the "main road," the whole vehicle began to shake! i wondered what the problem was. but then i realized that the only problem was that 90 percent of bolivia's roads are unpaved, and this was going to be a long, bumpy ride.

for several hours we bounced around. around hour 3 i began to deeply regret the coffee i had at the bus terminal. around hour 4 i felt horribly sick, and by hour 5 we finally stopped. the bus parked on the side of a dirt path in some little village. i walked up and down the street, people staring at me. for a few bolivianos, i bought an empanada and ice cream. then it was back on the bus for me.

for the next few hours we stopped every twenty minutes to let another vehicle pass, to move goats, sheep, cows, alpacas and llamas off the road, and once, we forded a river. yes, that is right. the dirt road that we had been on led straight down into a brown stream. so, without hesitating, our fearless bus "off roaded" it for a half mile next to the stream. and when the driver found a spot that looked shallow, he backed up the bus and sped right through he stream!

other exciting moments that i thought i was going to die: when we took curvy mountain dirt trails and sped around the bends. and when other vehicles approached, we took the outside lane. also, after a while i began to deeply regret the roadside food i had consumed at our stops. i mean, what had ever possessed me to eat a small bag of greasy meat mixed with potatoes... i have no idea. and the bus was freezing again. i shivered and shivered. i finally managed to doze off, only to be startled awake an hour or so later by the fact that i couldnt breathe.

ah. altitude sickness. i woke up and felt like someone was pressing on my chest. i started gasping and gagging really loudly, waking up the other passengers. i almost passed out, which would have been interesting. for about five minutes, i just sweated and gasped until i found a method of breathing. then i felt nauseous. but luckily for me, there were no more stops until la paz! uggg.

around 5 in the morning we stopped. having no idea where i was and too exhausted to move, i stayed on the bus. i woke up half an hour later and realized that everyone had left the bus! i got off the bus, collected my pack which sat outside the bus at this point, and concluded that i must be in la paz. i walked around until i found a taxi. giving the address of the only hostel i knew, my driver took me to loki hostel.

i knocked and knocked on the hostel door in the freezing early morning light. finally, a big man appeared and told me there were no rooms. slam. i walked, dazed, down the street to two more hostels, only to get the same response. finally, i hailed a taxi and just asked that the man take me to any hostel he knew of. at austria hostel, i lucked out! a bed, rather lumpy and cold, was available. yessss.

u slept for 4 hours before getting up and going back to loki to try to book a room. in the main office, i bumped into shawn, my long lost traveling buddy!!! apparently he has been in la paz so long that he decided to get a job here at the hostel. now, we are just waiting for amanda to get back from a tour... and then the triumphant trio will be together again!

twenty four hours

ever had one of those days in which you think back and wonder how could all these events have possibly transpired in the last twenty four hours?

twenty four hours ago, i was in my purple parachute pants, sitting in jonas´ room, watching titanic on TV and eating a big bowl of pasta, bored as ever.

and now, i am sitting in a hostel in salta. after a night of partying, no sleep, a crazy taxi ride, long flight, weird remise bus, finding my hostel, exploring a new city, planning a trip to bolivia, almost becoming involved in a peaceful march, chilling with fellow hostel kids and eating a giant steak.

back up. so, last night (somehow that was 24 hours ago). after sitting all day in THE PANTS (yes, the purple parachute pants. get used to them, they are coming to seattle), i talked to a neighbor who got the water to work again (yay! it was broken). hopped in the shower, threw on some makeup and bought beer for the friends coming over. jonas got home, and soon his friend nicolas (from salta apparently!) arrived and miguel showed up. lauren and francisco joined us, and we got ready to go out.

going out meant this sort of club/fiesta situation downtown, near avenida de nueve de julio. it was a chill place, but we were all feeling sleepy. i stayed for a bit, but after lauren and francisco took off, and jonas was feeling tired, i couldn´t pretend to be awake any longer. two nights in a row going out, too much.

back back up! (i forgot to mention. lauren and francisco and i went out the night before to pacha, this amazing three story club out in the boonies near aeroparque). the music? fab. 80´s, pop, and YES there was a mika song. i went nuts. we got home at 5:30).

so, returning to saturday night. we all sort of wimped out and returned home before 4. i crashed, only to wake up at 8 to get a taxi. said bye to jonas, jumped in the cab with a very cranky driver and heading out to my next adventure.

(i also discovered that BA is gorgeous in the early mornings! i have never been outside before ten, unless its coming home from a club in those early hours. interesting.)

got into aeroparque, checked in, ate a final BA medialuna (okay i had three) and hopped on my flight to salta. i listened to my ipod the whole way and got weirdly emotional when listening to minus the bear. i think it reminded me of last summer a lot. seems so long ago. one year. wow, a lot happens in a year.

i arrived at three and wandered around the bare little airport, having no idea how i was going to get to the city, which was 12 kilometers away. i shuffled stupidly outside and this small man oddly ushered me to a large van full of tourists. ¨el centro?¨ he asked. i nodded. next thing i knew i was magically on this bus taking me to the city. sometimes, i just luck out.

i checked into the hostel, locked up my things and set out to explore. salta is AMAZING. its this gorgeous, gorgeous little town that doesn´t seem to be aware of its own beauty. there are unbelievable churches and cathedrals in ever color but white (my favorite is a passionate red iglesia with gold trim). the plaza is wonderful and the park so tranquilo.

when i set off on my wanderings i noticed something weird. silence. no endless honkings of taxis and buses screeching down the street. and cleanliness. no dog poop smeared on every sidewalk and garbage strewn in the gutter. and no huge crowds of people, rushing rushing rushing. actually, there was literally no one around. every shop was closed. silence. it was a sunday afternoon, and the city was taking a big, long siesta. either that or aliens had abducted everyone but myself. i considered both possibilities.

i went to the one internet cafe in town that was open (i know, i checked every place). i went to town on finding buses, taxis, trains or whatever i needed to get to la paz in three days. so far, i have this:

1. andesmar bus. leaves at 12:45am early tuesday morning. to la quiaca, on the border.
2. city taxi. from la quiaca, argentina to the border crossing at villazon, bolivia.
3. expreso del sur. 6:20pm tuesday night. a train that runs from villazon to ocuro, bolivia.
4. ?. still have to find a way from ocuro to la paz. but at ocuro, i am golden. almost there.

after my big planning session i walked outside, surprised to find that the sun had set. the giant, pale rose cathedral next to the internet cafe was now a faint neon pink in my opinion. what was also surprising was that the saltenos had somehow, magically crawled out of the woodwork. there were dozens, if not hundreds of people enjoying the twilight in la plaza. a few boys beat on plastic buckets, creating a beat.

suddenly, it seemed like two little girls had found metal spoons and were joining the beat. a mom handed her overeager toddler a metal pot, and he joined in. an older woman snapped her fingers. two teens pulled out whistles and blew. more people clapped. the people milling about slowly gathered in a circle of sound. a few tiny flags appeared, and one individual thought the occasion worth borrowing an argentine flag from a local restaurant. stomp. clap. bang. beat. stomp clap. bang. beat.

now there were dozens of people. old and young. a protest? i thought, prepared to run, thinking of the dangerous protests in buenos aires. but smiles were on every face. no slogans were shouted. no signs were shook. stomp. clap. bang. beat.

and then there were two hundred people! they stepped into the street. cars politely made way, or joined in the impromptu parade. honking. whistling. the noise was unbelievable! but no anger! and no obvious reason for the parade! i watched as the entire town seemed to come together and celebrate... well i dont know. celebrate being a salteño. they marched around and around the plaza, over and over. a few police came to make sure traffic didnt get in the way of their happiness.

i finally tore myself away and went to a restaurant. i asked the waitress why the people were marching. she smiled and said she didnt know. ¨we always march. we are happy people,¨ she explained.

i think i really like salta. its sort of a magical place.

words / concepts of the day:

remise: a special taxi or van, designated for a specific location. usually you call a taxi company for a remise cab, or the airport has special vans that just go to and from the city center.
aeroparque: the domestic airport in buenos aires. since the country is fairly small, all flights are within two hours. security is lax, the airport overly clean, but really, no one flies within the country. buses are still the cheapest route.
salteños: residents of salta. i like these people.

mission completed

i got the freaking bolivian visa! (!!!)

thursday morning i set out to get one hundred US dollars and a couple of little visa-sized photos of myself. shouldn't be hard, right?

wrong. i went to seven ATMs, three banks, and two casas de cambios. i am not even joking. all the ATMs were either a) out of cash for the day; b) didnt accept credit cards or c) just didnt work. the three banks managers i talked to said, "come back tomorrow, maybe we will have US dollars then!" what is this, a second-world country?!?! oh wait, yeah, it is. ha.

on my third casa de cambio, i walked in and immediately saw a sign that said "no hay US dolares." my eyes practically filled up. i had twenty minutes to get to the stupid bolivian consulate with the money and there was no US cash, apparently, in the entire country of argentina.

and then the cambio manager walked up to me. he smiled and asked me what was wrong. i thought for a minute about how much i wanted to go to bolivia. ...and then, i turned to him, flipped my hair, and pouted. i sniffled out some bad spanish, explaining that i needed US money, the bolivian consulate was holding my passport as ransom, and i had no friends here. he tipped his head sympathetically and mumbled something about "maybe we have a little bit of US money somewhere..." next thing i know, i am skipping all the lines and at a cambio counter. a severe looking woman asks to see my passport. i look back to the cambio manager and shrug. "oh its alright, this is mi amiga," he smiles and waves aside the identification concern. i hand over a few hundred pesos. ten minutes later, i am tucking one hundred US dollars into my bag while the cambio manager is attempting to ask me on a date. i smile and say, "no entiendo! no hablo castellano!" and leave. shameless. haha.

i quickly find a photo place and grab a cuatro por cuatro foto set. then i jump on the subway and march over to the bolivian consulate. oh, earlier that morning i had put on my tall lady heels, just to make sure i looked like i meant business. inside the consulate, i now feel powerful. i tower over the bolivianos. i march into miss-wont-give-me-a-visa's office and practically throw my one hundred US dollars and the photos down on her desk. she gestures for me to sit. my heart is beating, i want this visa so bad!

suddenly she smiles and hands me my packet of stuff. my paperwork, my certificate of vaccination and my passport. my passport with a brand new BOLIVIAN VISA in it! "have fun in bolivia," she waves goodbye. suddenly, as i exit the office, all of the bolivianos are smiling at me. i freaking love these people. i love bolivia. ahh.

SO. sunday i am going to salta. my flight is booked for 12:15pm. i arrive around 5:00pm, and will head over to correcaminos hostel. as soon as possible, i will take a bus to la quiaca, and then over the border to bolivia. can't wait!

words /concepts of the day:

second-world country: there is some debate as to what classification argentina really is. buenos aires looks, in some areas, like a first-world european nation. but then there are thousands of cartoneros wandering the streets. and el campo is definitely not first-world. the whole nation doesnt seem third-world either, but financially its almost as unstable. during the cold war, argentina was deemed third world; but by today's human development index it is considered medium to highly developed. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_World)
casa de cambio: an currency exchange business.
salta: in northwestern argentina, a town of 500,000. it is said to be a beautiful place, surrounded by mountains and salt flats. i really want to go on el tren a las nubes!

the edge of adventure

the battle over the bolivian visa continues.

after friday's unsucessdul attempt to get a visa, i was more determined than ever to cross the border. on saturday, i hopped on two buses (one went the wrong way, so i had to turn around) to get to 690 huergos avenida. it turns out that heurgos only goes to the 400 block. and then i realized there were TWO huergos streets in town, and i was on the wrong one. i returned home, defeated. try #2.

sunday was the laziest day ever, with jonas still sick and me trying to get over a cold. i devised a plan, though. i would get the required yellow fever vaccination, get a flight to the north of argentina and cross the border on some sketchy bus. perfect.

sunday afternoon i met lauren, the new/old roommate of jonas. she was back from traveling and unpacking her things. and wow, i cannot even begin to express how nice it is to have a 1. american and 2. a girl my age around. just chatting about every day things is hard when culture and language barriers exist.

back to the mission, as i have named it. monday, armed with all the necessary documents and my new friend lauren (she decided to go to northern argentina in a few weeks and needs the vaccination too), i headed over to congreso to get the vaccination shot at the health organization building. after a lot of wandering, we arrived at 3:30. bam. the place closed at 3. attempt #3. failed.

tuesday. lauren and i headed out earlier, and arrived at the building at 2:30. we walked in and found a surprisingly barren courtyard, dusty and with a few scattered "patio-furniture" type chairs. a woman in purple scrubs asked if we needed the shot. lauren and i approached her to ask questions, and she directed me to a small room. assuming that i was going to fill out paperwork, or maybe answer questions about my medical history, i walked in. a guy in scrubs stood next to a counter. he said something to me in spanish and i said, "como?" he smiled and laughed. "relax!" he said in english, which worried me. half a second later i felt a stab in my shoulder. he had stuck me with a needle, without warning. i am 95% sure it was for yellow fever, and %65 sure it was a brand new needle. no guarantees. so, attempt #4, semi successful. and weird.

afterwards, feeling excited about my shot (and my arm growing numb) i headed over to the bolivian consulate. i did the whole routine. sat in the waiting room, looked at the peeling paint on the walls, listened to babies cry and bolivianos talk about paperwork. finally admitted to the office, i spread out all my documents, including the new vaccine certificate. i point to my shoulder and smile. the lady doesnt smile back. she lists off a bunch more things that i need, including a hotel reservation in bolivia and a receipt for a return flight. en serio? i am no longer smiling. attempt #5, no good.

tuesday night. a break from the mission. lauren and i head out to meet up with some of her american friends and one cheery irish guy. the group, which numbers about 10, is loud and already a little drunk by the time we meet with them at a restaurant. the decision is made to go to rumi, a local club. we hop in cabs and head over. the place is a good crowd and fun music. i bond with a colorful portland kid, and we dance crazy next to a drag queen. i realize by about 2 am that the lack of food i had that day, mixed with the vaccination and vast amount of mixed drinks consumed makes me feel, well, horrible. i end up half asleep at the table and lauren has to drag me home. oh well. all in all, a fun night!

back to the mission. wednesday, i wake up late and pretty sick. oh well. bolivia or bust. so i made what i will refer to as "fake reservations" with a hostel in bolivia and LAN airlines. they are real reservations, which i printed out at the local internet cafe (after a fiasco in which the printers didnt work and i had to beg the cashier, in bad spanish, to fix the printer for me or i couldnt go to bolivia. it worked), but i will cancel them as soon as bolivia gives me a visa. so, i had the printed evidence of my "reservations" in bolivia, my passport, a copy of my passport, copies of everything, the vaccine certificate, plenty of pesos to pay the fee and my application. all set. i took the subway to once, the barrio that the consulate is in. i showed up at the consulate and glare at the small bolivian woman who has become my nemesis. she eyes me, and makes me wait half an hour. then i am admitted. i spread out all the documents. i show her the money. she says, without blinking, you need two small photographs and one hundred US dollars. my eyes fill with cranky tears. i have no idea how to say, "you never told me that before!" i can only mutter, "manana. voy a volver manana con las fotos y cien dolares. chau." gah. crap. attempt #6. big. freaking. NADA.

tomorrow. i will return. don't worry bolivia, you're getting me whether you like it or not.

words / concepts of the day:

once: this amazing barrio that i discovered during my many trips to the bolivian consulate. its grungy, lower-class, all street vendors and weird stores selling absolute cheap crap, narrow streets and no rules. you keep your bag super close to your body, watch out for the taxis that speed at pedestrians and buy a churro filled with dulce de leche (US $0.25). so good.
yellow fever: a bad thing. CNN wrote a little piece on it. my favorite part of the article is this: People contract yellow fever from the bite of an infected mosquito. The disease causes fever, muscle pain, headaches, shivering, nausea and vomiting, the World Health Organization says. Most people improve after three or four days, but some enter a second "toxic" phase that causes fever, jaundice and blood in the vomit, the health organization says. About half of the people who enter the second phase of yellow fever die within 10 days. hm. so comforting!
how to get into bolivia: apparently, even after getting the freaking visa, its tricky. if you can get to la quiaca, the border town between argentina and bolivia you are almost there. the town is actually divided down the middle with la quiaca on the argentine side, and villazón being the bolivian half. a slightly sketchy bus will apparently carry you from either side of the town to bigger cities such as sucre, santa cruz and la paz.

a little more time

amanda and shawn wrote to me. they are in bolivia, and want me to come join them ASAP! i am stoked. traveling, making plans, crossing borders, confusing funny crazy situations. i want back in. i am going to bolivia!

amidst a flurry of emails to "mom and dad" as i call them, i realized i needed to get a visa to cross the border into bolivia. determined, i woke up (late again. oh well) and hopped on the subte to the bolivian embassy. arriving downtown near calle florida and corrientes, i went into the intimidating looking building with the little bolivian flags. once in the office, i inquired about visas. the receptionist shook her head and handed me a card. it had the address of the bolivian consulate, which was apparently what i needed.

back on the subte. four stops down, six blocks over, and i was in barrio once. i have never been to this barrio before. its a little rougher, a little less touristy. street vendors try to out-shout each other, selling everything from pinwheels to parachute pants. i navigated the narrow streets and made it to a slightly less impressive looking building with the same little flags. inside, the place seemed to be either under construction or just given up on. ladders lay about, paint was peeling to the point of snowing on my head, dust was everywhere. upstairs, i found about fifty primarily bolivian-looking people milling about. dozens of signs were on the walls next to each door. each sign held some long explanation, in spanish, about the nature of business behind each door. i felt like the individual in this one story who, if he opens the wrong door, a tiger will pounce out and eat him immediately. to make matters worse, everyone seemed to be staring at the gawky white girl attempting to read the signs.

finally, i asked someone where to go. "ciento seis," was the quick reply, and i assumed that meant the door number. i found the right door, sat in a waiting room for a while and was finally called in. a woman took out a piece of paper and wrote down everything i needed to get a visa. yellow fever vaccination. two photocopies of my passport. two photos of myself. one hundred US dollars. eek. and it will take two days, after all this is done.

so, i will not be going to bolivia right away. hopefully by next week. ah i wish i would have gotten on this a while ago. oh well.

nice things about today. riding the subte. getting off the train, you take this tiny, tiny escalator up to the street level. everyone crowds on it, and there is a warm yellow light that illuminates us while we stand. i feel like such a part of humanity. i feel as if we are all being born together, into the world, asking, calmly, adonde vamos?

also. a tiny girl, a baby, with piercing black eyes and little gold earrings. a dark skinned boy, his yarmulke askew, his nose pushed up against the window of a paint store. colors reflect in his eyes. he sings in a high pitched voice.

do you ever, for a moment, stare into empty air with such a concentration that you forget you are not alone - and in that very moment your eyes run across the path of another human being who is staring into empty air in the same manner? and the electricity of such a meeting makes you realize you are not alone. and for a tiny milisecond, you are in love.

words / concepts of the day:

subte: el subterráneo. the subway system in buenos aires. entirely efficient, magnificently clean. the only drawback is that it closes at 10:30pm though.
visas: in south america, border crossing can be a bit tricky. going into brasil or bolivia, they like to charge US citizens something like a reciprocity tax. basically, punishment for what the US charges for brasilians and bolivianos to come to the states. besides a whopping $100 usd for me to get in, i need to vaccinate myself against yellow fever, which sounds like a pretty nasty bug to catch.
yarmulke: the traditional small, round cap that Jewish men and boys wear, especially if they are orthodox. argentina and Judaism, you ask? actually, buenos aires has one of the largest Jewish populations in the world, after to jerusalem and new york city. thousands of Jews fled to argentina during WWII, many of whom had been rejected entry into the US.