Viajando Sola

Well, Annie, my partner in crime left today. She is a wonderful travel companion.. the cut-the-washcloth-in-half-to-save-room kind of traveler, but knows how to see things well, and has a definite love of adventure.. including trying to find a Bolivian family on an island to take us in at night, when they looked at us as if they had never seem mainlanders before. (we found a hostel instead.)

I had a trial run on my own the past couple days as she went to hike a glacier, and it proved to be alright. I met some beautiful souls, other female solo travelers from the States, and found a kindred spirit in their approach to the world. They also added some resolve to the fact that my initial plans fell through, that everything works out, and that I am still on the track I want to be.

On Monday I start work with ACDI/VOCA - a USAID funded non-profit that addresses community organizing and agriculture in Bolivia. It has been around 34 years. Its not going anywhere. I am also excited because I will be staying in their guest house, right up the street in the rich part of town. (I bet they´ll have hot water!) The office itself is in what looks to be an old large house with wooden floors, and was bustling with employees (about 25 Im estimate). ANd although most of my work will be in the communications office writing project evaluations and press releases, there wll be much opportunity for field trips. I bought a colorful striped scarf off the street to dress up my backpacker clothes for Monday. Very sophisticated, I thought.

Anyways. I decided to get a little respite from city life,and be a country mouse forthe weekend before the Job. So, this morning I work up at 7, packed my belogning (a growing pile, mysteriously) and bought fresh bread before heading to the bus station for a 9 am bus. For a little background, the streets of La Paz are filled with Minivans. Minivans are the form of stransport for everything; for tusist daytrips, as buses around town; and for busrides across the country. There is also the occasional taxi, or larger bus, but there are very few privately owned cars. The system included a sign in the front to tell you where it is going, a driver, who honks incessantly, and the riht hand man, or boy. They sit next to the sliding door and open it so that you can jump in while moving; collect the money and sporadically stick their head out the window to shout the route. It is often a 7 year old boy. I hailed a minivan this morning in fact, to get to the bus station, and generously, it actually stoped to let me throw in my backpack, etc. >A minivan ride is 12 cents.

So it was no suprise to me that the ride to my weekend getaway was a minivan either. Piled the backpack on the roof along with a couple bags of potatoes, a box of ice cream, tied it down with a string, and we were off. How spacious for a 4 hour drive i thought, only 3 people and me. Little did I know.... we got little out to the parking lot before the righthand man shout out the window ¨Sorata, Sorata¨ our destination. A couple people piled in around the corner. A few more up in the next part of town. More in the next neighborhood. Pretty soon the minivan that comfortable holds 12 was packed with 20 people! The man on my left had a 25 pound bag of potatoes on his lap. The woman on my right had 2 teeth, ate oranges and empanadas as she knitted with the smallest needles I had ever seen. The woman in front of me had a baby on her back and two children on her lap. I am the only tourist. ¨Vamos¨I said under my breath, to no avail. We stopped for gas. ¨Gasolina Especial¨is the one and only kind at the gas stations.. hope it is special for our car.

Bumpity bump, on the dirt road. We are out of the city, and the roads are lined with delapidated houses, dry hills and cows. If there is no roof on your house you dont have to pay taxes. And we are going faster than feels comfortable in the gear we´re in. ¨Tire!¨someone says. We look back, and woops, we hit a bump in the road and the spare tire flew off the roof. The righthand man runs out and rolls it back to the car we are off again. Bumpity bump. And just when you think you are in the middle of nowhere - someone asks to get out. Where they go, I have no idea. And sson their spot is filled with another person walking along. As we brace ourselves for every tilt and turn- efficiently cutting ever blind curve- i stopped looking down at the erosion on the roads edge. There is the occasional 7 year old girl by the side of the road, with her herd of sheep, and I wonder when we will ever get to the town I paid 1.25 to have as my oasis. Äre we there yet¨seemed to be an inappropriate question over the rumbling of the rocks beneath us and our bags above us. And then we round a corner.... and I see it. The colorful pueblo tucked away into the hillside. A refreshing sight of lush shubery surround Sorata, and the plaza is blue and white tile lined with tall trees and old men sitting on benches. Excellente. I arrived, checked into a hostel. There were no singles, so for 60 cents more I am staying in a Matromonio... big bed. Had pizza on the plaza with 3 Spanish travelers, and barely able to keep up with the rapid SPanish conversation, I was humbled. Humbled by the spanish, humbled by my bus company, and humbled by this beatiful yet impoverished pueblo. Relishing in life as a country mouse.