La Paz and Desaguadero
I haven´t found much to do in Desaguadero, Peru except internet and get shot at by packs of small children toting water guns. I saw Diamante de Sangre (Blood Diamond) last night and can´t help but make some comparisons. Though the pre-Carnaval water war is really just a game. A game in which you get more points for soaking a gringo (especially a blond) and which makes me ultra-paranoid everytime I walk anywhere. Its fun when you´re also armed with water balloons, but I just never think to take them on my walk to work.
I had to leave the country (well, actually 14 days ago but who´s counting, besides immigration) in order to renew my visa. I got to La Paz at 5:45 am, way too early and cold and dark to do anything. I shivered in the bus station watching terrible music videos until i couldn´t stand it anymore. I think the ABBA in-studio-video of ¨gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight¨ was the last straw.
I started walking in a sleepy haze with my favorite coffee shop as my destination.
Sunrise in La Paz is not impressive, the city is in a valley so you can´t see pretty colors on the horizon or anything. It just gets gradually lighter and lighter.
A few blocks from the bus station, a man ran by me and an old man as we were walking down the sidewalk - seperately of course. The running man dropped an empty plastic bag and the older man bent over to pick it up and called (not very loudly) to the running man. Then he looked in the bag.
When I saw the big wad of 50 boliviano notes and 100 dollar bills I started shouting really loudly at the running guy. But he was across the street and still running, then gone up a set of the impossibly steep stairs scattered around the city.
For some odd reason, my conscience decided to speak up at that moment. The old man said to stop shouting, he´s gone. Then he said we should spilt the money, ´la mitad.´ But I just couldn´t do it.
I tried to explain to him that money is probably for the guys family, for rent, for food, for work... and that I would feel bad taking it. The old man just said somewhat incredulously, ´you don´t want to split it?´ I shook my head and kept walking. And he was gone, with my chance to be rich. Well, comparatively I´m already rich.
I really hope that the bills were counterfit or stolen. Then I wouldn´t feel so bad for the guy who lost them. Its really hard to get into the Bolivian mentality of
´finders keepers´ and shove until you get where you need to be and the meaner you are, the better service you get. There are a lot of things about Bolivia I struggle with.
I had to leave the country (well, actually 14 days ago but who´s counting, besides immigration) in order to renew my visa. I got to La Paz at 5:45 am, way too early and cold and dark to do anything. I shivered in the bus station watching terrible music videos until i couldn´t stand it anymore. I think the ABBA in-studio-video of ¨gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight¨ was the last straw.
I started walking in a sleepy haze with my favorite coffee shop as my destination.
Sunrise in La Paz is not impressive, the city is in a valley so you can´t see pretty colors on the horizon or anything. It just gets gradually lighter and lighter.
A few blocks from the bus station, a man ran by me and an old man as we were walking down the sidewalk - seperately of course. The running man dropped an empty plastic bag and the older man bent over to pick it up and called (not very loudly) to the running man. Then he looked in the bag.
When I saw the big wad of 50 boliviano notes and 100 dollar bills I started shouting really loudly at the running guy. But he was across the street and still running, then gone up a set of the impossibly steep stairs scattered around the city.
For some odd reason, my conscience decided to speak up at that moment. The old man said to stop shouting, he´s gone. Then he said we should spilt the money, ´la mitad.´ But I just couldn´t do it.
I tried to explain to him that money is probably for the guys family, for rent, for food, for work... and that I would feel bad taking it. The old man just said somewhat incredulously, ´you don´t want to split it?´ I shook my head and kept walking. And he was gone, with my chance to be rich. Well, comparatively I´m already rich.
I really hope that the bills were counterfit or stolen. Then I wouldn´t feel so bad for the guy who lost them. Its really hard to get into the Bolivian mentality of
´finders keepers´ and shove until you get where you need to be and the meaner you are, the better service you get. There are a lot of things about Bolivia I struggle with.
posted by Emily @ 7:30 PM
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