Life in Bolivia, while not exactly routine, is pleasant. I have settled on group of regular friends; I have my daily hobbies of guitar and charango classes; and I continue to participate in the political and cultural activities that La Paz has to offer.
It has been about 3-4 weeks since I moved into my apartment at Sopochachi. I’m still piecing things together, and will probably have everything I require by the time I leave to return to Chile in early September. The area, and accompanying life, is slowly growing on me. It will be an unhappy day when I leave, which is not too far away.
Once again, after thinking that I was invincible with an iron stomach, I got food poisoning. In Bolivia, you can eat from a BBQ on the sidewalk and be fine, and then eat at an overpriced café and get sick. The latter applies to me. I’m not sure what it could be that contributes to this debilitating illness: altitude? Hygiene? Or perhaps it’s that unknown bacteria alien to outsiders – the gringo killer! Fortunately, I recovered enough to be on my feet within a day. All was not lost though, as I took the time to watch some crappy, Hollywood movies - as you do.
The other day I had the pleasure of attending an art exposition by the acclaimed ecuadorian painter, Oswaldo Guayasamin (google it!). His art pieces are a social-political expression of a profound nature. Back home (i.e., my parents house now, where my meagre possessions are) I had a book with his art pieces on one-side, and the poetry of the Chilean Pablo Neruda on the other. Seeing these vivid works was extremely heavy (some of Nerudas words shot through my mind). I was very thankful to have had the opportunity to attend this, and I may return, as it was free.
Down the road from where I live, there is an American Texas Hold’em bar. No thanks to some people, it has become a regular thing – although I have been known to go there by myself. Wednesday and Saturday nights are the preferred nights as there are free drinks. Fortunately, it is cheap to play – the minimum pot you can buy is 20 Bolivianos ($3), big blind is 4 Bolivianos ($0.50c). One can spend so many hours there. A pair of friends shocked me when they told me they were there till 8.00am! Far from being gambling (you don’t lose much, and you don’t win much), it has become somewhat of a social scene. But only in Bolivia; anywhere else I wouldn’t have the funds for it. Sometimes we transport these poker nights to the house of Abraham, a reporter for the Spanish news agency EFE.
As of last week, after much suffering, I finally got my laptop. I regretfully decided to leave it in Chile as I feared it would break on the many bus trips, or get stolen. However, after travelling I discovered that neither was a risk (at least till now). As soon as I had settled in La Paz, I had my uncle investigate the various ways of sending it. It turned out that going via the state postal system was the cheapest, but I was unsure of how secure it was. I chose to have it sent it via express post. Days went past, and I was regretting my impatient decision.
Finally, after 10 days it arrived; but I needed to go through customs. My uncle had declared it. Consequently, my worst fears were confirmed, I would need to pay an import tax of at least 20% on it – about $200US. I was shattered. I explained that had I of known I would not have accepted it, this was supposedly a gift from my family. Attempting to reason with her, she passed me over the boss.
I was hoping on reasoning with this person, appealing to any sympathy. I explained I was a student, with no income, living in Bolivia to participate in the political process, planning on writing on the events for the English world, and this laptop would be a useful instrument. He listened, then asked where I was from. I told him I lived in Australia, but I knew he would have picked up on my Chilean accent (In Bolivia, being a Chilean is the worst. In the 1879 War of the Pacific, Chile appropriated the coasts of Bolivia and Peru, leaving Bolivia landlocked. Subsequently, Chileans are synonymous with thieves), so I explained that I was born in Chile but my family immigrated to Australia, and that one day I would like to go to the beaches of Bolivia – something I say often, depending on the person, when I have to introduced myself. He began to calculate the numbers, and write them down. I didn’t want to look. The customs officer began to explain, that they understood my situation, and could help out. He gave me the final figure of $50US. I couldn’t believe it! I thought, as a gesture of my appreciation I would be him a bottle of red, which I still have to do.
In the next week I will be applying to have a journalist license, giving me access to press conferences, certain press travels paid for by the government, etc. Regardless, I am contemplating on travelling to Santa Cruz, an enclave of the vehement opposition, by the end of next week, to observe and report the recall referendum of August 10 for Direct Action, and other mediums. For this, I may have to travel clandestinely, so I’m thinking of cutting my hair shorter, and trimming the beard, cause as numerous people have commented I have the ‘obvious look of a leftist’.
***
No photos this time around as I am not journeying outside La Paz (unless you want to see photos of the poker bar?)
Cities I have visited
Odyssey visits
