Alone in La Paz

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Finally the hair-raising bus rides, us both being irritated by our insect bites and plant scratches after the hike in the tropics, not having access to wifi, the hours spent looking for hostels, the car exhaust fumes in La Paz, the sunburn, the altitude sickness combined with our not so successful trip to Coroico was finally getting to us both. I’d been getting annoyed at Ronald for not giving me space, our comfort levels were very different – what seemed like a slightly uncomfortable 4 hour bus ride for Ronald, felt for me like I’d travelled from Edinburgh to the south of Spain stuck in a can of sardines on the back of a child’s bicycle with deflated tyres speeding over the biggest bumps possible. Also, Ronald’s spontaneous attitude of ‘lets see as we go ’ which many times I found was healthy and lead to a relaxed trip, was now combining with Bolivia’s attitude of ‘lets leave everything in chaos’ and provoking chaos within chaos which was leaving me stressed and concerned for my health.

It was after us both going up into the clouds packed into the little Trufe, to collect our luggage from Ronald’s Auntie’s house I made my decision. There was only one of us in the clouds out of their comfort zone and that was me. Realising that the situation was a threat to my emotional well-being and that with my levels of exhaustion I wasn’t capable of resolving any more difficulties, I made my way back to La Paz and checked into a hostel, whilst Ronald made his way alone to Cochabamba to see his friends and family and see a festival. So there it was at the bus station that we parted on not so good terms. Emotionally and physically exhausted, I had found a hostel and checked in. By 5pm I was fast asleep.

When I awoke at 7pm I was less exhausted and feeling much more like myself. A good sleep in a comfortable bed, a hot dog with mustard, ketchup, lettuce and aji, a walk down to the main square where live comedy was taking place, a 10 minute spell attending a mass in the beautiful San Francisco cathedral, a milky coffee in the market all made me feel much better.

As soon as I stepped into the market I felt cared for the way I used to feel as a child at Grandma’s house, knowing that her pantry was full of goodies. In the market, the coffee itself was warm and comforting. The woman in her little kitchen was dressed in her clean, bright indigenous clothes with her hair plaited in two long plaits down her back, like the native american Indian. There was a tiny TV in the corner and she was cooking milk (fresh from the cow that very day) on a little gas stove. The shelves above were stocked full of herbs and full of delicious things. Also it was comforting to know that my money was going straight to the producer of the product, not to some big multinational. That made me glow inside

The woman, the coffee and the atmosphere lifted my spirits. I thought to myself

‘ If this woman could be so self-sufficient, have the strength to come here and work everyday, dress well in clean and bright clothes representing her community, in a country with such high poverty levels, is there anything I cannot do?’

Stunned by my sudden admiration of this nation, for its self-sufficiency, expressiveness and strong community spirit, with a more rational perspective I thought:

‘I may be alone here in La Paz, but come on Anna, if this woman and the whole of Bolivia can get on when times are tough everyday, then so can I on this one occasion when things haven’t quite gone my way.’

And with my renewed positive attitude I began smiling and talking to strangers again. By chance I briefly met a guy from Santa Cruz whilst I was drinking my coffee. He was an engineer and had come to La Paz for a job interview, he had also applied for a job in Denmark and the UK. We talked a bit and after me having spent the day working my way through the possible uncomfortable options of getting from La Paz to my beloved Argentina within the next 2 days, this guy had given me some advice of what not to do – so far all the options I’d investigated had sounded very uncomfortable – a 48 hour bus ride to Buenos Aires, buses without toilets or seat belts, overnight buses which make me nervous, military planes which would only take me as far as the border of Bolivia, flights which are decided on the day, or flights with lots of changes costing about 500 euros. He has given me the name of a travel agency who can rescue me from La Paz and take me to Buenos Aires in comfort. He suggests I should call around, which I will certainly do tomorrow.

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