Updates.

The bloqueo from the last entry was resolved at 5Am the next day. The cause was that a hotshot Tarija politician had promised one community a few projects and never delivered. This was a big deal because to realize projects, local men are employed and paid for their construction labor. So, in effect, this hotshot politician owed said community a lot of money. The bloqueo was resolved when he agreed (again) to do the projects.

The water situation in Valle de Concepción is much improved. They finished the project in which they tore up every road in town and installed pipes underground. For the last few days water has come out of the tap every time I wanted it to -- morning, afternoon and evening -- AND it came out CLEAR! It still only comes in one temperature, and there is only enough pressure to send it up through my shower head during the wee hours of the morning, but what a luxury to have it all the time!

I know there is no excuse for neglecting my biweekly blogging responsibilities, but last week I neglected my biweekly blogging responsibilities because I was in La Paz meeting my first visitor and high school partner in crime, Nicole. I sat down to write a blog the day she arrived, but I was so excited I couldn´t put together a coherent thought. It´s better I didn´t write anything. Trust me.

Now that I´ve calmed down I can tell you that the bus ride there was torturous. I bought my ticket a few days in advance and so was able to claim one of the cool seats in front with a panoramic view. On the way out of town Marina, my nextseat neighbor, and I made friends, and as we crossed the mountains north of the city she pointed out the new road to La Paz being constructed in the distance. It looked as if it will cut multiple hours off our travel time, and we were both very excited about it and kept commenting on how pretty and straight it was. Oh I can´t wait.

One of the best parts of having the front, panoramic view seat while taking the old road over the mountains is that the front seats are placed a good distance in front of the front wheels of the bus. It took me a while to figure out that the sensation that I was about the fall off a cliff every time we made a hairpin turn was no cause for alarm. Sure it looked like I was suspended over the edge, but all four wheels of the bus were firmly on the road at all times, and I learned to trust and respect my driver and his amazing skills.

The drive was pretty uneventful. My lack of leg room, lack of window that closed completely, and lack of blanket kept me uncomfortable, shivering and silently cursing the two aisles of snoozing, well-prepared and short-legged Bolivians behind me. Marina was cozy under two blankets with her little legs completely outstretched and propped comfortably on the rail in front of us.

As the sun rose over the mountains that perpetually line the Bolivian horizon, we stopped in Oruro, a city about five hours from La Paz, and the bus broke down. After about twenty minutes of making tinkering noises below, the driver emerged into the passenger section and asked if anyone had any lip balm. Marina did. He reemerged a few minutes later, returned the lip balm, and started the bus. It proceeded to break down on the hour for the next five hours, but he never requested more lip balm, so I assume other problems were to blame and the lip balm had served its purpose. A good rule of thumb for travelling in Bolivia is to always leave a day early: You never know what might impede you. I made it to the city later that day, and the Saturday night surprised Nicole at the airport. I´m so good at surprises.

We spent the next week wandering around La Paz. Bored with the city by Tuesday, we caught a bus to Lake Titicaca -- beautiful, sparkling, sprawling Lake Titicaca with its ¨palacios de trucha¨ (millions of restaurants that each called themselves ¨trout palaces¨), amazingly cheap hostels ($2 per person per night), and countless tourists from everywhere except the United States. Not true. We spent some time on a boat with a family of Minnesotans (and a Bolivian wearing a Minnesota Vikings sweatshirt!). The dad was extremely affectionate towards his kids and sucked Pringles cheese off their faces. Those might have been the only estadounidenses we encountered.

After hiking uphill for hours at high altitude, birdwatching, sleeping in a ¨crack house¨ (for only $1.25!), ruining our diets with fried things and cookies, not washing our hands after using public bathrooms, searching for our documentary-maker friends in all the wrong places, getting ¨Gringo-priced¨, admiring La Paz cholita attire but not seeing them wrestle (Does the WWE have matches on Easter Sunday?), learning about Bill Gates´ role in the Second Coming of God, marveling at the Milky Way from a Titicaca dock, and having locals convert their homes into restaurants at our whims, we again parted ways (so soon?!?!?!) to meet up again in Cochabamba. I had work to do in Tarija. She had jungle to explore. We will be together again on Tuesday, barring bus breakdowns.

Back in Tarija this last week, the Calamuchita professors surprised Winston, Steve and me with 31 kilograms(!) of collected plastic recyclables and much enthusiasm to begin a program in their school. The Chocloca professors forgot we were meeting to collect their plastic. Such is life. We scheduled a program planning meeting in Calamuchita this coming Wednesday and rescheduled the collection meeting for Chocloca. Winston and Steve will (hopefully) collect Valle´s plastic on Tuesday. The nice thing about working in a group of three is that tomorrow I can leave for meetings in Cochabamba and trust that progress will still be made on the recycling front in my absence.

I can´t upload photos for some reason. I´ll add them later.

I hope this finds you all well and happy.

Love,
Sarah