The Dangers of Tobaco

So , we are way behind in blogging, but that doesn´t mean we are way behind in tragedy and misadventure. I´ll slowly work backwards over the last 2 weeks, but we will start with what i still remember...yesterday.

So we are now in Tupiza, which is a mix of an 1800´s western town, a 1950´s Norman Rockwell painting, and more stylistically mixed up teenage bolivian punk rockers than most of you have ever dreamed existed. Their naivety is adorable though, and bootlegged Abercrombie and Fitch black t-shirts with metal studs popped in is so tough, i think I´ll be swiping that style when we get home. I even forgive the kid in the Good Charlotte shirt for not understanding how much that band is a bunch of little bitches cuz of his black cut rate Chuck Taylors with red stitching...converse take note and follow the fashion lead of your Bolivian bootleggers, they do it better than you.

It´s Tupiza day today, and everybody in the town is out parading, dressed up as Bolivian soldiers from 1825, the year they won their independence, also the same year they last won a war. I believe they are 0-25 since then, and I´m starting to think America should invade here just to knock in an easy win and boost our national morale. Anyway, an easy day is fine by us. We need one, as yesterday, 2 months after quitting smoking, Tobacco finally almost suceeded in killing poor Lycia. Not her lungs, which are pretty busy being destroyed by the altitude (at 4000 meters, typing this crap winds me), but her hip.

Seeing how naturally outdoorsy we are, we figured a 2 day horse riding trip was just what we needed. What could go wrong? Since this is where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid were finally gunned down by the entire Bolivian army, (oops, I guess they did beat someone once) we kind of figured us Yanks were due for a good run down here.

The first horse they stuck Lycia on was named Bronco...I think she was hoping for a pony named Vanilla Twist or something. Not surprising, Bronco had a bit of an attitude, kind of seemed like a 7th ward type of horse. If he had pants, they´d be riding low and he´d be carrying around his old brothers 9mm that he scooped out of his underwear drawer. Lycia and Bronco´s relationship started off like crap, and than quickly soured. Luckily there was a sweet, if slightly hungry horse named Tobacco ready to lug her around the beautiful yet rugged scenery- weird eroded rainbow coloured rocks cut by torturous, gravelly quebradas (Yeah, that was straight out of the guidebook...I´d never spell color with a 'u' like a european pussy).

7 hours of riding, leading to the most ridiculously pleasant town of 75 bolivian hicks, seemingly all under 11 and wanting to pose for pictures with us. And a herd of baby goats. If you have never witnessed a baby goat stampede heading straight towards you, friends, you do not know what fear is. Like all good hicks, they sold beer, which was nice, and even buzzed, Lycia schooled them in Uno, making up new rules when she had to to ensure an easy victory.

As we went to sleep, I made a huge mistake. I told her that this was one of the best days of our trip and even if tomorow stinks, it´s all just gravy. Looking back, I believe Lycia wishes I was stampeded by the goats rather than saying that.

Have you ever seen a hungry horse spooked by heavy wind bucking in a thin path a few hours out of the nearest small town in southeast Bolivia? Me neither, as me and my well behaved if slightly stupid horse, Payo, were well in front of Lycia at the time it went down. She can give a more detailed account of what it looked like...I only heard it. And it sounded ugly. After spending a few minutes trying to figure out how to turn my horse around, I eventually showed up to rescue her, to find nothing but a slumped sagging body laying prostrate on the ground.

Maybe I´m not a good person, but I hoped that she was either perfectly well or dead. Shipping her body, while it would break my heart, was something that was manageable. Finding a doctor in this god forsaken hell hole (that I loved 2 minutes before) would be more than I could handle if she had a broken back or something. And ditching her paralysed body somewhere in Bolivia because I didn´t want to deal with the medical bueracracy around here would do nothing for my already tarnished reputation back home. Luckily, by the time I got to her, her screaming was controlled, and although she couldn´t move, I noticed no bones sticking out of her body and figured if we laid there a couple of days, she could eventually walk again and we could get out of the canyon.

She progreesed quickly though, and after an hour she could take a step or 2. 3 hours later, when a rescue jeep arrived she was able to walk the 25 steps across a river to get a ride back to civilization. The 3 hours we waited were actually slightly romantic (again, Lycia can fill you in) and today we left her cane in the hotel room.

We will try to write a blog entry that isn't about the pain and misery in this trip at some point, but it´s just that pain and misery are my bag, so i gotta dwell on it.

This blog space has been down for a while and we may eventually catch up, its fun and i love to let you guys know how god gets me back for my easy life back home by sending us out on these so called vacations.

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