Everywhere and Everywhere else

No room in the inn

klynne — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 12:53:00 GMT

When we last left off, your heroine et al. were on their way to Buenos Aires, Argentina to spend four days before heading back to Toulouse, France. It was understood that Philippe had a friend/address/etc. in Buenos Aires. So it came as a surprise at the airport in La Paz when he said "Uh-oh."

I don't like uh-ohs.

Turns out that the hotel he wanted us to stay at was full our first night in Buenos Aires. "That's OK," he said as he and Alexandja were escorting us to the gate, "you have a reservation for the following night."

I started to panic when the Argentinian taxi driver turned and asked us incredulously "you don't have a reservation for tonight?" as we were flying through the streets of Buenos Aires. Seems that every football match, congress, and seminar was being held that weekend.

We had to take two taxis due to the amount of baggage we had. So image the two taxis going from hotel to hostel to hotel looking for a room, any room. Finally I begged JN to contact Chubbie. Now Chubbie is our ex-brother-in-law with whom we had not had contact with in the last five years. Last thing we wanted to do is to contact Chubbie in this context. Invite him to dinner, yes. Show up on his doorstep with a ton of luggage and friends in tow, no.

Well, as luck would have it, we had his portable phone number on us, the driver had a portable phone, Chubbie ANSWERED his phone, and he said that he could meet us in 20 minutes.

There we were after the two taxis pulled away. Sitting in front of his building, a mountain of bags blocking the sidewalk, Ryan coloring while sitting in a doorway. What a welcoming sight we were going to be. And it was hot. The temperature was in the 80°F. Thank God we were wearing our ski socks.

Chubbie came around the corner and broke out laughing his famous laugh. You know those toys that you turn on and they have an infectious, almost to the point of annoying, laugh? Well, that is Chubbie's. Boy, did he think we were funny. Boy, were we happy to see him.

He took us (and our bags) up to his appartment, offered us water, and started looking for a place for us to stay. Not finding anything on the internet, he took off on foot to check out the local hotels. He came back a half an hour later and said he found a place, but we would all have to share a room, would that be OK? Yes, yes, yes, yes!

That is how we ended up being thrilled to be sleeping five to a room (SB on the floor) and all sharing the same bathroom. We ended up being able to invite him to a restaurant and share a great bottle of Argentinian wine (Norton) and ate great steaks. With enough oxygen to breath and soft places for all of us to sleep for one night, what more could we have asked for?

On our way to Argentina

klynne — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 21:08:00 GMT

The wake up call came at four fifteen and we were down and on our way by five AM. La Paz was already awake; stands were already open for business, lines were being formed, traffic and pedestrians were already clogging the streets.

Everyone was very tired. Our last day in Bolivia was quite busy. The girls got in the last minute shopping and JN was …. preparing his lecture for the Agronomic University in La Paz! When we first got here, JN wandered down to the University and got in contact with some fellow researchers. After talking shop, they offered that he give a lecture.

That is how he found himself on a Friday night in a packed auditorium giving a lecture on “Integrated pest management.” Three hours later (um, due to the simultaneous translation from English to Spanish, his hour and a half lecture seemed to go on a bit…) the students were still there asking questions.

Meanwhile, I took SB to a Capoeira practice. Capoeira is a Brazilian sport that was created by slaves who back in colonial times were not allowed to train to fight. Set to music, the sport consists of pantomiming fighting and is quite acrobatic. Philippe is active in a local club and they even gave a demonstration at Philippe’s wedding. When we asked Ryan what did he like best about Bolivia, he says, “the exercising” meaning the Capoeira, of course.

SB was fixated in place watching the back flips, the handstands and the close calls. At one point he couldn’t contain himself anymore and he got up and started doing his own moves. He wanted to stay until the end. Christiane said that there is a club in Toulouse, I might look into it when we get back.

We got to the airport before six and there was already a mass of people. I started to get winded again. At 4050 meters, the oxygen was thin. Check-in was smooth and after a long breakfast (our flight was at 8:30) we were on our way.

So started another long day of travel with a little one. Just before boarding, JN asked for the camera and went off with SB, you will have to check out the photo gallery to find out another way to amuse a small child in an airport…..

The hotel we were planning on staying at in Buenos Areas is full so we will see where we will sleep tonight. My sister-in-law’s ex, “Chubbie” now lives here and we will try to see him. We are all looking forward to eating some more good steaks!

On the road to Tiwanaku and Lake Titicaca

klynne — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 20:47:00 GMT

I am writing from an internet cafe in Copacabana, a small village on Lake Titicaca, and I have a connection that dates back to 1975. So this message will not be long. I have added three new photo galleries, sorry, no captions, too long. SB and JN are on a swan shaped paddle boat out on the lake and I am to join them shortly.

Enjoy the photos and I will write more from La Paz.

Klynne

Where TO take children in La Paz, Bolivia

klynne — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 13:55:00 GMT

There are many places that are suitable to take small children in La Paz. SB already has his favorite restaurants: Dumbo and Brusso’s. With their grand pianos being played by virtuosos and their décor made just for children, they are a children’s paradise. We like Brusso’s because they have a play area for kids. So even if you are just a child at heart, stop in just to have one of their famous cakes or ice creams.

How I ended up promising to do the dishes for the next 10 years

klynne — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 13:54:00 GMT

If you are traveling to Bolivia and happen to be traveling with small children, do not, I repeat, do not take them to the Valley of the Moon in La Paz. Oh sure, they can get in for free. There is a reason. If your kid plummets to their death and you start to bang on the ticket window, they can just shrug their shoulders and say, “hey, we said it was free.”

If you are young and single and have just ridden a bike down the deadliest road on earth (another daytrip around here) the Valley of the Moon will seem like a cakewalk to you, by all means, do it.

If you have ever accompanied a young child to a playground and have almost had a heart attack when he or she; a. almost walk in front of another child swinging on a swing, b. start to go down a slide standing up, c. fall off the top of a stairs, the Valley of the Moon is 10 times worse.

Before we went into the Valley of the Moon, I said in English while holding SB’s hand, “Oh, is this like a tourist trap?” Hon-Hon, they laughed back. “Piège à touristes!” How right I was. The “fun” thing about the visit is that you walk on narrow little paths only between a foot to two feet in diameter through a very interesting landscape (see photo gallery). The un”fun” thing is that you can also slip and fall to your death, but then again, it all depends on your interpretation of fun.

Seeing my little boy walking in front of me, yes, holding his Daddy’s hand, on that little path, made me want to throw up. This is the point that I swore away doing the dishes for the next 10 years only if he would take me and the boy back to the starting point.

The others came back a half an hour later, laughing and having a good time. Good for them. I was happy with my heart coming back to a normal heart rate and SB blowing soap bubbles at my feet.

Road trip to the highest ski slope in the world

klynne — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 13:50:00 GMT

Just as being in a city that is at an altitude of 3500 m is not enough, we decided that a trip to Chacaltaya (which is 5300m just at the parking lot) would be fun. I had recuperated enough with my bout of food poisoning to go along on the trip, but it seemed that Philippe had begun to suffer from the same.

After a short stop in a market to buy provisions for a tail gate picnic, we headed off for the mountains. Philippe works as an adventure guide and his tool of trade is a Toyota 4X4, seeing the condition of some of the roads, we were happy to be traveling in it. After crossing El Alto, we headed towards Chacaltaya. We stopped for lunch by the side of the road (4500m) with a beautiful view of Mount Potosi; SB donned his Bolivian bonnet for the first time. It was important to stop at regular intervals to get accustomed to the change in altitude. Lunch consisted of avocados, figs, mangos, bananas, and bread. Yours truly just dined on an apple, doctor’s order, after all. After lunch JN and SB wandered down the road to see a herd of Lamas, the girls all found discreet rocks behind which we could relieve ourselves. Without mentioning names (and I can tell you right now that it was not me) one among us made a lonely lama herders day, if you get what I mean.

The view continued to amaze us the higher up we went. Christiane remarked that it was almost if we took two trips, seeing how much the landscape changed during our journey. The flat plains changed to the steep cliffs. By the time we got to Chacaltaya, SB was knocked out either from the fatigue or from the lack of oxygen. I wandered feebly out of the car and made it to a bench. Philippe and Alejandra stayed in the car and took a nap with SB. The only true adventurers were Christiane, JN and Laetitia who climbed to a first bench to admire the view.

Christiane stayed there for awhile by herself as JN and Laetitia made there way to the summit. They made the climb to 5580m and they said the view was spectacular.(with a little help from some Coca leaves given to them half way up by a native who took pity on them). They could see Lake Titicaca off in the distance with Peru just beyond.

On the way back to the capitol, we crossed a herd of Lamas that were kind enough to pose for a few photographs. SB and everyone else seemed to be revived with the return of a “normal” level of oxygen. We passed a soccer field at one point at our descent and were amazed that they were able to run around after the ball.

Everything you want to know about Bolivian doctors….

klynne — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 13:30:00 GMT

For you, dear reader, I took it upon myself to test the local medical assistance just in case you were hesitating on coming here for a visit. Well, I didn’t plan it this way, but I thought I could share my experience with you. As the gory details of my sickness really are of interest only for my doctor and me, let’s just say that I had food poisoning. The medicines that I brought for things coming up or gushing out were just not strong enough. Lucky for me, I was not traveling alone and someone had the wise decision to call for a doctor, as I was incapacitated in my bed.

Dr. Castillo and nurse showed up at my hotel room a short time after they were called. After a very thorough examination and questions translated from Spanish to French, the doctor pronounced that I had an infection and he saw two solutions: either a two day stay in a clinic with a perfusion (I was very dehydrated at that point) OR I could have a shot to at least stop the vomiting and take antibiotics and stay in my hotel room. I opted for the second option.

I was having a hard time staying awake but I did ask questions about the needle. Alejandra assured me that it would be sterile. The doctor left and went with his nurse TO THE PHARMACY to get the medicine I would need. When he came back, another nurse came too to give me my injection. JN inspected the wrapping and assured me that it was sterile. After a half an hour, I felt better could sip water without throwing up.

Dr. Castillo gave me a long list of medicine to take and said that he would check up on me in the days to come. All for the cost 350 Boliviano for the house call 82 Boliviano for the medicine. (65 dollars) … well worth the price as I am now able to write this.

Day 1 - LA PAZ

klynne — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 13:28:00 GMT

We crashed as soon as we got to our hotel situated near a beautiful San Francisco cathedral, it was almost 11 at night and the city was still going at full speed. SB mentioned as he lay in his bed that he heard a woodpecker, uh, no sweetie, more like a jackhammer. No 35 hour work week here.

The next morning we were all up with the sun at 6:30, along with the honking horns, the barking dogs, and the mad police whistles. We were all suffering from Altitude sickness, it seemed to be more that we had horrible flus, the ones where the smallest efforts leave you breathless and you have to sit down for a while. Unpack a bag, sit down, brush your teeth, sit down. Made things rather slow. SB seems not to be effected at all. At least that is good. We wandered around La Paz with Christiane in the morning, to the shops and the markets. If you have ever been to San Francisco, that is what the streets are like, very, very, steep. But also very, very narrow. Add the many buses and cars going in all directions, we hung very close to the sidewalks. It was also our first encounter with the local population. The native costume is not one they just put on for folk festivals once a year, (really, who in Germany wears lederhosen?) they really do wear Bolivian knitted bonnets, or derby hats, or colorful dresses. I tried to be discreet in my picture taking; I mainly shot from the hip, so that explains the strange framing of some of my pictures. Many of the women, and the most of the stall sellers were women, just had a few feet of cobblestones to sell their wares. Knitwear, sacs, corn, pumpkin, popcorn, vegetables, hangers, you name it, they were selling it. And often just inches off the busy streets. The one that made me look away was the woman selling two slabs of beef displayed on a little wooden box out in the hot sun, next to the exhaust pipes of the local diesel buses. Ugh.

As they had not much room to sell their wares, every inch was accounted for, even where they sat. Remember beanbags? We use to have two yellow ones back in the 70’s and I remember my mother lifting me up and nestling me in one, they being so big, and I so small. That is what the women in the stands looked like. I have no idea how they could nestle themselves into their stands and arrange the fruit and vegetables so neatly around themselves. Some were even taking naps when we walked by, I could almost image them pulling a blanket of potatoes and onions over their shoulders in mid-dream.

We went back to the hotel and waited for Philippe to go for lunch. We ate in a nice café in a brightly colored patio and had the most wonderful quinoa soup. We heard lots of loud popping in the distance and asked if it was, ahm, gun fire. “Oh, no,” said Philippe calmly sipping his soup, “it is just firecrackers from a demonstration.” We all looked at each other, “Who is demonstrating?” we asked. “Who knows, someone is always demonstrating,” he said with a shrug. “Oh,” we thought reassuringly, “just like back home in France.” Then Philippe continued, “Just be glad it is not the miners, they bring real dynamite to town when they march.” Hmm, makes the French railway workers seem like sissies.

Afterwards, I headed back to the hotel so that SB could take a well needed nap and the others headed off to the Coca museum. While I read Paulo Coelho’s “Like the Flowing River” with a sleeping child curled up at my side, Christiane, Laetitia, and JN visited a very interesting museum explaining the history of the Coca leaf. Turns out that yes, the coca plant can be turned into cocaine, but the leaves are used by the local population as a kind of mild chewing tobacco. The miners use it (and there are still many working in the silver mines) to help them get through the harsh conditions of their line of work. It is also used in lean years for many when there is not enough food to go around. It can also be somewhat nourishing and it is a better alternative than having your family starve to death. If you go into a café, even an internet café like the one I am sitting in to write this, you can be offered coca tea to drink.

When they got back, I left SB in the care of his dad and Christiane and headed out with Laetitia to compare prices and the quality of goods in the local shops. Since we will be here for a few days, we had time to comparison shop. The quantity and quality of the Alpaca goods were astounding. Sweaters, bonnets, ponchos, purses, coats, blankets, etc, all in a multitude of colors and weaves. There are also a vast number of silver products available. It was already dark as we headed into one of the last shops. Laetitia, who speaks Spanish fluently, had one of the shop ladies pull her off to the side and warned that us girls should be in our hotel by 10 o’clock at the latest as the “bandits” take over the streets of La Paz at that time. Good advice.

Philippe and Alejandra met us and took us all to a local restaurant for dinner. The servings were so large, everyone shared a dish. SB watched the Pan-American soccer play offs between Colombia and Mexico on a big screen TV. It was great to hear the famous “Gooooooooaaaaaaaaaaal” when one of the teams scored. On the walk back to our hotel, I stayed rather close to JN as SB rode on his shoulders; it was past 10, after all….

Toulouse to La Paz in 36 hours

klynne — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 13:23:00 GMT

Someone once told me “either you have a good trip or a good story.” Well, we had a good trip (all of our flights were on time, we made all of our connections from Toulouse to Paris to Buenos Ares to Santa Cruz to La Paz) but what fun is there in hearing about a good trip? Better to have a good story!

Let’s start with our shoes. We all wore our hiking/snow shoes for the trip. 4000 meters, below 0° c at night in La Paz when we would arrive, I mean, we wore them on the plane, JUST TO BE READY. Let’s just say that 36 hours is a loooong time to be wearing those shoes. When the pilot announced just before we touched down in Santa Cruz that the local temperature was 31°c (80°f), we all looked at each other in horror. So there we were standing in line to get through Immigrations, being controlled by people wearing short sleeves, and we were dying in our snow boots.

Turns out that we were switching planes and instead of going through a transit lounge, we actually had to go out of the airport and try to find our way back in. The next plane was packed to La Paz, full of people of European and Indian origins. The descent into La Paz, if you can call it a descent as the plane basically climbed the whole flight , was incredible. The airport is situated about 1000m above certain areas of the city (La Paz ranges that distance from top to bottom) so we started to land in total darkness seemingly in the clouds. The city glimmered below like a gold and diamond draped cloth on a bed of velvet. As we were so far up, we could not distinguish streets or houses or roads like one usually can when one lands. It was a very smooth landing so the images that had been haunting me since we left Argentina of the South American football team whose plane crashed in the Andes and they turned to cannibalism to survive … just “poof”, disappeared. They were replaced with images of a guppy gasping for air…wearing snow shoes. Ah, yes, Altitude sickness, would we crumple to a heap upon arrival? No actually, we all felt rather woozy but we were not sure if it was due to the altitude or the lack of sleep. We made it through customs and Philippe and his future bride, Alejandra, were waiting for us on the other side … wearing flip-flops.

Bolivia?

klynne — Sun, 4 Nov 2007 12:14:00 GMT

"Mommy?"

"Yes darling," I said absentmindedly while trying to pack extra socks into our suitcase.

"Mommy, what is Bolivia?"

I rocked back on my heels, "Well, Bolivia is a country."

"Where?"

"A long long long way from home in a place called South America."

"..And we have to take three planes to get there?"

"Yes, that is right, three planes," said I, continuing packing.

"Mommy?"

"Yes darling."

"Why are we going to Bolivia?"

"To attend a wedding, darling."

"Mommy"

"Yes?"

"What is a wedding?"

Trying to remember if I already packed his PJs,I answered, "It is a kind of party."

That made him smile. He likes parties. "Will there be ballons?"

"Maybe.."

"Will I see Tintin?" (Tintin is a comic book character by a Belgian artist named Hergé. He has been reading "Les sept boules de cristal" and "Le temple du soleil" with his father at bedtime.)

"No, but you might see the Lama that spit on Captain Haddock."

That seemed to satify him for the moment.

24 hours before we leave, clothes and things are dispersed throughout the house, and I look at SB besmusedly as he is contently looking at the pictures of Tintin and Milou climbing the Andes Mountains. I hope this trip will be a good one.

We are off tomorrow to Paris, then Buenos Aires, then La Paz.

The wedding should be on Thursday. I will try to get the photos up by next weekend at the latest.

Until then.....