Little Happy Clapping Den
I woke up the next morning with the feeling that we were in the home stretch…I was told we would arrive sometime that night, which would prove interesting since the port was a ways away from town and, supposedly, getting a taxi or some sort of mobility (as it was called) would be difficult, if not impossible at night. I had breakfast and went back to my hammock, where I was stung five times by some sort of hornet or wasp…once in the foot, twice in the boob, and twice in the stomach. Dammit! Agh! At least it was sunny again…I laid and slept in my hammock most of the morning and rinsed out some clothes in the river in the afternoon, the sun drying them quicker than you can imagine.We stopped during the day to pick up some fish from some fishermen camped out on the side of the river. I have no idea what kind it was, but it wasn’t bad, a nice change from all the beef…lots of bones, though. After dinner, I found it in myself to explain to Alejandro that I couldn’t possibly end my trip here, a nice way to turn down his offer. He understood, likening it to climbing halfway up a ladder and stopping…yeah, like that. I went to bed early, hoping to get some sleep before we landed at port. I was told we would be there a little after midnight, and since I didn’t know if we would have to spend the night in the port town waiting for transport to Trinidad, I figured I would get some sleep now.
I woke up and it was about 7:30am…we were still on the boat, still going…we must be close, I thought. We had breakfast and I spent the morning swinging in the hammock like a swing and sharing my pictures with Elvis. He was from Cochabama and invited me there for a post-Carnaval festival that weekend, called Curso de Cursos, and he said it would be fun, fun, fun. There’s a big parade and everyone is “playing with water and foam”, whatever that means. Since I had spent the actual Carnaval weekend on the boat, I thought that would be fun, so I planned to meet him there.
We had lunch and were still on the boat, though everyone was packing up as if we were close. We were. About an hour later, we arrived. I could hardly believe it. We loaded ourselves on a small boat, to be taken to the little port village. Rita had lots of luggage, and while she loaded it all on the boat, I watched her little daughter Mell. On the boat, we passed what was supposedly the highway, completely under water. There were little homes completely inundated, the only clue that they were there was their little thatched roofs peaking out from what seemed to be a big lake. There really was a lot of water here.
We all helped each other unloading our stuff and moving it to a prominent spot to catch a cab of some sort. We left in two groups, me in the second one…somehow we managed to put 9 people and all the luggage in (and on top of) one van; included in luggage was a large, heavy wooden armoir. I have to give it to the Bolivians for efficiency in transportation.
During the ride to the bus station in Trinidad, I decided it would be worth leaving to go to Santa Cruz tonight…that would give me more time to check out Bolivia’s second largest city and still get to Cochabamba in time for the festival with Elvis. I had wanted to head west to Rurrenabaque for a jungle trip (which I had put off in Brazil to do in Bolivia), but that was looking more like a non-possibility due to the highways being flooded. I had no previous intention to go to Santa Cruz, nor Cochabamba, so all my plans were changing with the moment, the moment taking me to all sorts of different places.
At the bus station, Rita, Mell, and I got the last two seats on the bus leaving for Santa Cruz, me with the window seat, them with the aisle seat right next to me. Alejandro, Elvis, and I went for a few beers to pass the time until the bus left. They directed us to a small little room (the music was there), and brought us a beer. When we were close to done with that one, Alejandro clapped his hands twice, and they came with another beer. Cool! You just clap your hands and they bring you another beer?! I wanna try! As we finished our next one, I clapped twice, and they brought us a beer. How awesome! It was like The Clapper. Clap on! Another beer! Except there’s no clap off…if you clap again, they just bring you another.
We were joined in the bar by another fellow, who sneezed as he walked in. “Salud” I said, greeting him into our little happy clapping den. (I was almost delusional, in complete disbelief that we were actually off that boat, though admittedly a little sad for some strange reason.) He sat in the corner, spitting on the floor and interfering with my clapping…he clapped at the same time that I did and there was a little confusion – they guy only brought 1 beer, though quickly rectified the situation and brought us another.
I used the bathroom before we left, and the toilet was set up the same way as on the boat…no toilet paper, no way to flush (there was just a pipe sticking up from the bowl), not even a bucket of water to throw down the toilet. Oh, and no seat, but that’s a common site…has been during the entire course of my trip.
And so we got on the bus to Santa Cruz; it would be 10 hours. I got yelled at to not stick my elbows out the windows. After about and hour and a half, I heard a huge hiss. Flat tire. We stopped and everyone started to get out of the bus, men and women just peeing on the side of the road. Whew! Let me out! I gotta go too…I was cramping from the beer in my belly. I found a nice spot behind some bushes to go (perhaps a bit more bashful than the average Bolivian with my urination). The mosquitos out here were ruthless…worse than on the boat, and they had infested the entire inside of the bus.
I slept a good amount on the bus; in the seat next to me, Rita often sat on the floor letting her little baby Mell have the entire seat to stretch out on. I could tell that we were stopping a lot during the night; I believe these were police checkpoints. We arrived in Santa Cruz at something like 4 in the morning…Rita unloaded her belongings from the bus and I carried out little Mell, positive that everyone was wondering what this gringa was doing carrying this Bolivian baby. I gathered my things and took a cab to a hotel nearby…Alejandro had volunteered to be my guide in Santa Cruz and we made arrangements for him to meet me later that day at noon.
Tags: Bolivia, Tag Index
Tania
March 21st, 2006 at 2:37 pm
Hi Tania-
I work w/ your cousin Steve at the PrivateBank and was reading your blog- my dad is from Cochabamba- if you get a chance to get there, its a very nice town in the valley. Not as developed as Santa Cruz or La Paz, but we love it. The situation there is volatile- so BE CAREFUL! I hope you have a wonderful time. If you need any help while traveling, especially if you go to Cbba, let me know.
Good luck!
Julie
March 22nd, 2006 at 8:53 am
Well now, we don’t have to worry about picking up any thing from the seats now do we? And what a bonus for the male species-not having the kind obligation of lowering the seat! love ya honey!
P.S.GIRL SCOUT FLASHBACK-ALWAYS KEEP EXTRA TISSUE IN YOUR BACK POCKET.