I promised myself I would never do an update email. I have a blog, after all. Except when your blogging as if you are still in Africa when you are very much in Bolivia. Besides, I am using a keyboard where 9 1/2 of the keys have labels taped to them. It is just too tempting...
I am in Cochabamba. Thanks to skype. Before you read any further, please go make a skype account. It is a life necessity. My flight left almost 2 hours late from Miami so in addition to listening to a two hiker´s litany of every outdoor vacation they have taken, their new gear, and the family that just ¨let them go¨I missed my flight to Cochabamba. I had to buy a visa upon arrival, 135 USD. My first taste of the progressive government of Evo Morales. He mirrored US immigration policy and consequently made American entry into the country just as expensive and complicated as we make our frontera. I was told I could fly standby at 7 pm that night, 12 hours from then. I called my school in Cochabamba and informed them I was not on the flight that should be arriving in a few minutes. The phone cut out just in time for me to hear them say go to another airline. Oh, ok. Not as an experienced traveler as I thought I was.
So, after buying 2 bottles of water to combat the altitude, (La Paz is the highest capital in the world) I went and stored my luggage. I learned that in SFO - I could lap that tiny airport free of my bag. Realizing I couldn't work the pay phone, I went to the internet cafe and called the school followed by a call to my mom. I booked a flight for 9.30 that morning and then went to get my bags back out of storage. Try conjugating verbs while clearly affected by the altitude. I could barely think in English. I called my mom back and asked her to please call Cochabamba, I couldn't miss my next flight and the cell phone number I was given wasn't working.
Round two. I go to the gate, confidant because I just bought a plane ticket in Bolivia. I was promptly told to turn around, I had to pay the national tax -paid it, went through. Not hard, I will just wait until they line up and fall in the back. So, I am sitting in my gate, just sitting there. My head hurts too much to read and then they announce my full name. I go the man and try to give him my plane ticket. No, we are not boarding, he needs me to follow him. I am led outside, onto The tarmac and into a back room. Surely, it cant be this sketchy hours into the country. My dad is going to be worried. So, what now? A bribe? Questioning? They searched my bag and saw the amount of political books I was importing? They ask if I have any gas in my bag? No, no gas. I am not a terrorist. I am coming to your country to learn extreme activism, remember? Aren't you the people who stage a coup every 8 months? I finally show them my shaving cream nicely tucked under and beside books, they are after all, books about Bolivia and public interest lawyers, not exactly threatening.
I am on the plane not worrying that I have no ride and no way of contacting the school once I arrive. I am traveling much looser than I would have liked. The 30 minute flight takes us over the Andes. I mark myself as the tourist when I get my camera out. I couldn't resist the cliche tourist photo. Then, I realize this flight is going to both Cochabamba and Sucre. 2nd touristy act. I get out my guide book and open the map to see which city is first. I get off in the right one. In Cochabamba I grab my bag from the 13 that are circling and sit down. Do I have enough nerve to roll with all my luggage, between the crowd of men blocking the telephones? No. I will just wait; they are all watching the world cup, these are serious fans. I spot gringos, stare them down, they keep going. Finally, the director arrives to take me to the school. My mom called from SC and left a message on their voice mail. She's legit; instead of panicking she uses Skype to set up a carpool for me.
I check in and leave to go meet my home stay family. They are a retired couple who live in a nice apartment building. They don't seem to reflect the same frequency in which I want to discuss politics, but love to talk about family, the medical alert dog my brother has for his diabetes and how much I like to read. They send me out the next night with their 23 year-old nephew and instructions to only speak in Spanish. He doesn't seem to have an affinity for politics either.
Just in case I get scared of a life with no politics, I know that Jesus is always watching. He stands outside my bedroom window. Personally, I think he wishes the Cochabambinos were a little more creative, though he is taller here, they still copied him from Brazil.
So, I am here. Cochabamba: home of the Water Wars and the first successful fight against a multinational corporation attempting to privatize a life necessity. I can attend language school anywhere, so I came for this city - for a politicized environment. I am here to learn Spanish and sophisticated social movements (after a strict warning from the school´s director not to become involved in politics. I can look, but not touch. No really, I can get deported -we learned that in South Africa.)
Moral of my narration - go abroad. Each and every time you have a chance, go south. Save the West for when you are old, with a Volvo and a mortgage. I promise, you will never be bored -
I suggest using this map from Information is Beautiful as a guide
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