So if you think La Paz is high up, try 4500m (14,700 feet) and then hike at that altitude or higher for 4 days. . . well you get the point. My mother and brother succeeded in doing all this with my and Caitilin last week. We climed over mountain passes over 5000m up and craned our necks to peer at glacial fields on various mountains about three hours outside of La Paz. It was really a treat to have them with for the last week as we got a chance to push our lungs to the absolute limit, expecting them to somehow breath with about 55% as much oxygen as they are used to at sea level. Coca was completely necessary. We chewed all the way up. Whatever can be said of cocain trafficking in Bolivia, the leaves themselves are not to blame--they are to be praised.
To complete our relaxing vacation together my mom treated us to two days on beautiful Lake Titicaca (3600m). Well we did try to relax in this perfect cabaña looking out on the lake. It was made for a writer. It was made for a novel. And I am sure we all would have writen one if we had not been all but forced to march accross La Isla del Sol by our diabolical boat tour man (I had to argue with him to let people out to pee one hour before the destination, even though we were stopped anyway at the port. The boat itself was already 40 minutes late and were only given 4 hours on the island, the walk took the entire time). Luckily we had our paradise to fall back into in Copacabana.
One day, many good meals and a few alpaca sweaters later, the family departed. It was far too short, but who could complain. Noah even brought me a copy of an LSAT exam to help me pass the time for the rest of the couple months we have left! We were sad to see them go, but then we saw the enormous pile of new books shiped to the Spitting Llama. From its stacks we found a copy of Timeline by Michael Crichton and The Golden Compass. We promised to read both aloud before going home.
The bus to Cochabamba cost us 25 bolivianos or about 3.5 dollars. It was the most comfortable I´ve taken here, and I wasn't even cold (of course I am just speaking for myself there. . .) which is saying a whole lot. But sadly we arrived at 5:30am. Caitlin was in her haze and somehow we had to find our way to a hostel in the first city since Valparaiso that we have been warned against. Supposedly there are many muggings here before daylight. The day only became stranger as the sun rose. First we waited until 6:30 under our newly purchased bus blanket. Then after a couple hours sleep at the hostel we struck out into the sunny world. Finding a cafe place run by a loquatious frenchman (who insisted on only speaking french), we settled into coffee, chocolate, and reading Crichton. Interupting our reading however came the frenchman's friend, dressed well in his leather shoes and sunglasses. We were told (in french) that he was in the drug trade here. Quickly the conversation went from our nationality to my judaisim (which he spotted apparently), to the holocaust. The drug lord had some good friends who had been survivors... One bottle of wine and 50 pages later we left the cafe. In search of a veggetarian restaurant (the french owner insisted he didn´t know how to make food without meat, "je suis un bon Français!" he told me) we passed a couple poping each others zits and a woman walking around with a child-sized chair on her head. Reading out loud was about all we could do to keep sane.
So today we went to visit Dave Holeman who runs The Spitting Llama bookstore, and I'm hoping he can give me a little direction for this coming month. Otherwise I go with Caitlin back to Sucre and read a whole lot.
To complete our relaxing vacation together my mom treated us to two days on beautiful Lake Titicaca (3600m). Well we did try to relax in this perfect cabaña looking out on the lake. It was made for a writer. It was made for a novel. And I am sure we all would have writen one if we had not been all but forced to march accross La Isla del Sol by our diabolical boat tour man (I had to argue with him to let people out to pee one hour before the destination, even though we were stopped anyway at the port. The boat itself was already 40 minutes late and were only given 4 hours on the island, the walk took the entire time). Luckily we had our paradise to fall back into in Copacabana.
One day, many good meals and a few alpaca sweaters later, the family departed. It was far too short, but who could complain. Noah even brought me a copy of an LSAT exam to help me pass the time for the rest of the couple months we have left! We were sad to see them go, but then we saw the enormous pile of new books shiped to the Spitting Llama. From its stacks we found a copy of Timeline by Michael Crichton and The Golden Compass. We promised to read both aloud before going home.
The bus to Cochabamba cost us 25 bolivianos or about 3.5 dollars. It was the most comfortable I´ve taken here, and I wasn't even cold (of course I am just speaking for myself there. . .) which is saying a whole lot. But sadly we arrived at 5:30am. Caitlin was in her haze and somehow we had to find our way to a hostel in the first city since Valparaiso that we have been warned against. Supposedly there are many muggings here before daylight. The day only became stranger as the sun rose. First we waited until 6:30 under our newly purchased bus blanket. Then after a couple hours sleep at the hostel we struck out into the sunny world. Finding a cafe place run by a loquatious frenchman (who insisted on only speaking french), we settled into coffee, chocolate, and reading Crichton. Interupting our reading however came the frenchman's friend, dressed well in his leather shoes and sunglasses. We were told (in french) that he was in the drug trade here. Quickly the conversation went from our nationality to my judaisim (which he spotted apparently), to the holocaust. The drug lord had some good friends who had been survivors... One bottle of wine and 50 pages later we left the cafe. In search of a veggetarian restaurant (the french owner insisted he didn´t know how to make food without meat, "je suis un bon Français!" he told me) we passed a couple poping each others zits and a woman walking around with a child-sized chair on her head. Reading out loud was about all we could do to keep sane.
So today we went to visit Dave Holeman who runs The Spitting Llama bookstore, and I'm hoping he can give me a little direction for this coming month. Otherwise I go with Caitlin back to Sucre and read a whole lot.
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