DAY 40 - SAT 10.2.10
JUST WHEN THEY`D GIVEN UP ALL SOAP, AGAINST ALL SUDS, THE TIDE TURNS: A MIRACLE

Since buses to Sucre are remarkably hard to come by for some reason, the happy couple finds themselves with an extra day to occupy in La Paz. Day 36 below details the peculiar charms of this city. Joseph and Victoria decide to keep their traps shut and enjoy themselves. Unfortunately, it seems that it`s pretty easy to become un-aclimated to the altidude, and an uncomfortable night is passed waking up grasping for the little oxygen that exists at 4000m.

An enjoyable duration of time is spent at La Paz´s modern art museum, housed in a gaping art deco mansion with arched glass ceilings (think German train station) and mirrored stairways. Even though this is by far the coolest thing in La Paz, the couple has the entire museum to themselves. They walk around accidentally using the flash and scoffing at artists who use sci-fi themes in their art.

The big excitement of the day is still to come.... Due to Joseph´s indignant refusal to pay variable rates for laundry services, Victoria had unwittingly agreed to drop off their collection of very dirty clothes not at the hotel`s laundry desk but at a dubious joint around the corner offering services for a lower price. As Joseph and Victoria have spent 135 Bolivianos (20 bucks) each on bus tickets for 7:30, they extract a promise from the old woman clerk to have the clothes by 6:00 pm. She states that they close for the evening around that time anyway. They ignore the fact that they see no washing machines at the storefront.

So, how could the clothes NOT be ready by 6:00? Why should the happy couple not be able to simply grab their clothes at the stated time and book it to the bus station. Why would the clothes be driven to a different part of the city to be washed? Why would there be any delay in the clothes coming back? What chance would there be that the dryer would break and the day´s labor would be backed up by 90 minutes? How likely would it really be that NO ONE would be at the desk when they returned at 6:00? What would prevent the laundry dude on the phone from being there in 15 minutes, as promised? Why would he thereafter not pick up his phone at all? And, above all else, why would this night, from precisely 6:00pm to 7:30pm, be the time of a massive cultural PARADE with hordes of masked men and dancing decorated women, marching in choreography slowly around the block of the laundry kiosk to the music of 30 person marching bands, slowly snaking their way through the crowded streets lined with people barbecuing on the sidewalks? Why would such a parade, with its thousands of marchers and thousands of attendees, cause any delay in the traffic? Why would this prevent the soggy, already-late clothes from arriving by 6:00pm as promised? Why would this instead cause the guy to show up with the clothes at 7:29? Why would the cab driver then need to take a detour in the OPPOSITE direction to get around aforementioned parade to get to the bus station that was 5 blocks away?

Would this happen? We don´t know. But one thing is for sure. As Joseph and Victoria sprinted away from the laundry shop with their soggy clothing to frantically hail a cab, the hand of God reached down from a cloud (not that far down, given La Paz`s extreme altitude), grabbed the laundry dude by the neck, squeezed his windpipe, and compelled him to take out his celphone and dial the number of the bus company which the unhappy couple had scribbled on a piece of paper and stuffed in his hand as they fled.

S...o...m...e...h...o...w... the bus had waited for them. A true miracle. At the bus station they were ushered through the luggage chute and directly into the bus parking lot... avoiding the $1.50 terminal tax!!!! They saved money!! Joseph apologized for having cursed so much. End of story.

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Day 37, 38 and 39 - Wed, Thur and Fri 9.29, 9.30 and 10.1.10
BUNGALOW IN THE JUNGLE

Today, our fearless travellers set out into the Amazon. Actually, first they set out on a taxi at 4:30am, then they waited in the La Paz airport because their plane was delayed a few hours due to it being ¨smoky season¨ in the Bolivian jungle. It is apparently ¨hot¨ this time of year in the jungle, and temperatures are so high that plants would prefer to literally burst into flames than bear it any longer. Said suicidal behavior affects navigational visibility -- pilots cannot see the ground at their destination and understandably choose not to takeoff, hence the delays.

But before they had a chance to dwell on the extreme heat that awaited us, Joseph and Victoria were forced to ponder a more imminent source of concern: the size and general functionality of our plane. The cozy little 18-seater ressembled a mini-van more than it did an aircraft. Nonetheless, it somehow got the job done, ascending up and over the nearby mountain-range for the first 20min (it was a close call... Joseph had his money on the mountains for a while), and then performing a turbulent and panic-inducing descent for the remaining 20min to Rurrenabaque, our smokey jungle destination. Change in elevation: a mere 10,000 feet. And fyi, the bus ride would have taken 22 hours.

The pair found their hosts in the town of Rurrenabaque, which was a humid and pleasant little town on the banks of the Limpopo River. Or is it the Volga. I can never remember. They were introduced to the man that would be their father and personal jungle-Jesus over the next 3 days, Demetrio. Demetrio, to put it bluntly, is a badass. Very small dude from the nearby village of San Miguel del Bala, sports a sweet moustache, knows everything there is to know about the jungle, never seen without his shoulder bag... and his daughters always win the Palo Encebado competition. Excuse me, you ask? Read on.

Transport in this overgrown region is done exclusively on the good lord`s original superhighway: the river. Preferred mode of transport: huge wooden canoes with Johnson outboards strapped to the back. Victoria and Joseph, along with the miniscule badass Demetrio, are shuttled upstream by Sandro, the young man in charge of the fine establishment where they are headed. Long story short, the 300 person community of San Miguel del Bala (hereinafter, "SMdB") realized that they could preserve their forest, keep their kids from running away to cities, maintain their traditional ways of life, and make a few bucks in the process if they built a stunningly beautiful ecolodge in the jungle near their town. Victoria and Joseph are in awe of these people. For 2 nights they were housed in expertly constructed bamboo, thatched wood, and stone structures; fed local delicacies and fresh donuts (in the jungle?? how?); led through overgrown trails in Parque Madidi to spy on capucin monkeys, parrots, and wild pigs; carted upstream through steep ramps of whitewater on the un-steerable wooden canoes; and generally given the time of their lives. A few details about the 3 days:

-- It was humid in the jungle.



-- Demetrio demonstrated for us a number of different techniques for constructing trampas (traps) for animals. You`ve heard of this stuff in books. If you ever find yourself with an omniscient jungle native nearby, ask him to show you. It`s amazing. Springing noose rope traps, lots of big heavy boards crushing animals, and -- I swear to you-know-who -- a trap that shoots an arrow from a bow at an animal that crosses in front of it. Jungle = so hot right now.

-- We pressed our own sugarcane juice in a huge wooden mill. Joseph, in the place of usual donkey, did most of the pushing. Victoria did most of the criticizing. Then we mixed it with lime and drank it. Real good.

-- The elementary school at SMdB has satellite internet and some real life wooden stocks. The bad kids get their feet put in the stocks. We are not joking.

-- Palo Encebado. What, you ask, is that? Well, every year on SMdB`s anniversary (and we happened upon its 200th!) the townsfolk knock down a long, straight tree, remove all the branches, grease it up real good with cow lard, tie a bunch of cash and candy and bottles of Fanta to the top, erect said grease-and-prize-laden pole to an upright and locked position, and then let their kids try to climb up to grab the prizes. Victoria and Joseph sat and watched in awe. After 3 or 4 boys tried to use the cover-it-with-dirt method, the daughter of... who else... Demetrio easily scaled the slippery 40 foot pole and methodically dropped each prize to her brothers` waiting fireman`s parachute below. Girls rule.

-- We snuck up on some wild monkeys in the jungle. This is a very difficult thing to do. We caught a glimpse of some of the little beasts through the dense forest cover, miraculously leaping between treetops. Our 40 minutes and waiting and listening for shaking branch noises and the 5 seconds of views that we had beats any zoo, any day.

-- We were ushered into the middle of a herd of about 50 terrified wild pigs. Joseph was under the impression that they were sizable wild boars, and he thus tried to hide behind a tree. Justo, a local guide, laughed at Joseph and calmly informed him that the tree he was grabbing was poisonous. Victoria ran for the center of the herd with her camera. Wild pigs smell real bad. And they are very funny to watch when they`re running.

-- Night hike by the river to seek out some puma. We found 2 nesting birds and a lot of little caymans (mini-gators). We found no puma. Such was the result, even though we had dutifully participated in the traditional pregame ceremony of masticating a combination of coca leaves plus baking soda plus some manner of sweet tree root. The next morning, we were shown the tracks of the puma that had, in fact, been stalking us, no doubt wondering what these idiot Americans hope to find by frantically shining their flashlights everytime they hear a leaf fall from a tree.

-- Every jungle remedy goes as follows: you take some of this here bark/sap/root/leaf/nut/animal/whatever, boil it for an hour, drink it with un poco de azucar, and it makes you vomit an hour later. It cures ailments to your liver or stomach. Our theory: all of these remedies are poisonous, hence the vomiting. Though we respect jungle folk and their abilities to survive in this harsh climate, we still prefer to have our prescriptions called into a RiteAid.

-- River fish. Justo caught us a delicious bass, using as bait some live grubs that we saw him extract from a tree nut deep in the jungle. The fish was big. Our cook then proceeded to prepare the fish in 3 different methods. Pan cooked with a sauce (good), lightly cooked stuffed inside shoots of bamboo (better), and steamed inside enormous banana leaves (best).



-- There was an incident with a canyon. The canyon may have been incredibly small (about 3-4 feet wide), and may have had present the following animals that regularly feature in nightmares and horror movies: bats, scorpions, water snakes, and enormous freaking spiders. It´s ok, though. The scorpions won´t jump on you unless they´re scared. There was also a tree sloth that had, unfortunately, fallen into the canyon. Anyhoo, some 50 feet into this dark watery abyss, Victoria very graciously started to freak out when asked to walk across a family of spiders, each measuring about the size of ... oh... the biggest spider she had ever seen. Victoria´s refusal to walk by said spiders allowed Joseph to retain his manhood and return, past the ready-to-jump scorpions, out the way he had entered without having to start crying.


-- Upon landing again at La Paz airport, Joseph and Victoria debated which experience had been more terrifying: aforementioned canyon, or the return flight inside the van-sized airplane. There is no answer to this question.

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DAY 36 - TUES 9.28.10
ALL WE ARE SAYING IS GIVE LA PAZ A CHANCE

Highest capital city in the world, here we go. After having slogged through the somewhat repetitive character of Peruvian tourist destinations, Bolivia`s urban hub offered a very appealing mix of bustle, randomness, and unique cultural feel. Though there are plenty of tourists in the mix, we frequently found ourselves the only foreigners on a city block or in a museum. Perhaps not a bad place to live, one might argue.

The day centered around visits to the Calle Jaen museums and a long downhill walk through the city center. The museums included a pretty nifty presentation of precious Inca metals - some displayed on slowly revolving mannequin torsos - and a collection of local textiles and scary looking dance masks. The last museum was the colonial era house of one Señor Murillo, who met his fate at the hands of the Spanish after leading an almost-succesful revolt in the early 1800s. We enjoyed thoroughly the well-preserved building and beautiful colonial style, but once again we were baffled by the curating... "say, let`s just throw a bunch of old furniture, books, and paintings in here with no explanation whatsoever as to its origin or significance, and then we`ll put a clueless and sleepy military guard at the entrance who can`t answer anybody`s questions." Thanks, Bolivia.

One other thing: people here don`t seem to understand walking for leisure. When we asked the owner of our coffee shop for the best walking tour route down through the city, she suggested we take a taxi to a lookout instead. When we insisted on wanting to see sights within the city, she told us where we could catch the bus. When we asked whether the huge park in the middle of the city was worth walking through, she suggested we take a taxi past it.

Needless to say, we walked... down the hill, through the beautiful city squares, past the countless rotund women selling jello with whipped cream in plastic cups, past the laughably slack "changing of the guard" at the presidential/government palace (wave to Evo), past the lawyer neighborhood, past the copy machine neighborhood, through aforementioned city park, and back up again to the Prado (main street) near the Plaza de Estudiantes. And oh, how many estudiantes there were. As we sat and ate our lunch and then, of course, our ice cream, we were entertained by the streams of Bolivian schoolkids on their mid-day lunch break. Great views of the tardy kids sprinting down the street trying to avoid whatever punishment lay in store for them. (Hey, they use stocks in some schools here, as we were to learn tomorrow... no joke).

Anyway, we walked some more, we returned to our old haunt from dinner the previous night, and we mentally prepared ourselves to descend into the nether regions of the Bolivian Amazon... mañana.

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Day 35 - Mon 9.27.10
THE MARKET OF REQUIREMENT

Today we took a bus bound for La Paz. Several hours, many winding roads, a ferry ride for the bus, a boat ride for us, then more winding roads later, we arrived in an enormous valley where the city seems to be rising up and boiling over the sides of the mountain range. It´s a really incredible place, and totally different from anywhere we´ve been so far.

We checked in and promptly found a laughably cheap (B15 = $2) Cuban lunch, which included the thickest, most delicious espresso we´ve had in months. (editor´s note: there was a lot of sugar in the espresso.) Also, and as a direct result of Victoria´s keen investigative research, it is necessary to make some remarks about the bathroom situation at said establishment.

But first, some clarification.

Thus far, the condition of ¨sanitary¨ facilities in both Peru and Bolivia has left much to be desired. However, what is most astounding to us travelers is that, no matter how nice a place is or how high its caliber of service, the bathrooms have been, without exception, woefully underwhelming. Shall we make a list of features that most people consider essential in the making of a fully satisfying powder-room experience? Yes, let´s.

1. A door (i.e., the inalienable right to keep your private bits... well... private).

2. A toilet.
3. A seat on said toilet.
4. The freedom to bid soiled paper a watery adieu, rather than placing it in a trash can.
5. Um... paper?
6. Soap.
7. Running water.
8. Some sort of of hand-drying plan.
9. A mirror would be nice.
10. Oh yeah - paper?

Sadly, most of these features have been conspicuously absent from our trip... that is, UNTIL we set foot in the magical Cuban restaurant in downtown La Paz, where every factor on the checklist proved to be present! For the first time in five odorous weeks, we found a john that was given the proper respect it deserves. (note: Joseph claims that a ¨hot water¨ is also an essential feature, but Victoria chooses to ignore him, as usual).

After a luxurious lunch, we went out to explore. We followed our ears and our noses towards a quaint-seeming street market, feeling lucky that we found some action, since the rest of the city seemed a little sleepy on a lazy Monday afternoon. It quickly became apparent that the rest of the city was quiet because every single resident was at the ridiculously large, loud and confusing street market into which we so naively wandered, thinking it was ¨quaint.¨ This was a magical realm of produce, animal parts, party animals, other party supplies, perfumes, cosmetics, furniture, clothing, toys, unidentified popped grains, shoes, and pretty much anything else you could possibly need on your stay here on Earth. This market sprawled endlessly like the spindly hand of Adam Smith himself. The afternoon quickly became the evening, and we continued to wander aimlessly, a bag of fried sardines in one hand and candied popcorn in the other (Victoria had the sardines...), until we had our fill and realized that the sun had been down for hours. Costco, my ass.