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.