Still on the boat…
Somehow we managed to avoid rain the whole night. Breakfast was fritos (fried flour and cheese) and coffee. Around 10am, it started raining…first it was just a little…tarp maintenance was pretty important. Since the rain accumulates on the tarp, you have to use a stick or some sort of implement and poke the rain off. So, we stood there, under our tarps, maintaining them for a while. I watched one guy, Rodney, fill his cup from the tarp run-off and drink it (I later found out this is where our drinking water came from…I was told it was better than the water from the river). Then came the wind. A huge gust of wind blew nearly all the tarps from their secure positions…mine ripped down the middle as I was trying to get the water off of it. People started running to shelter on the main boat, children, cushions, clothes in hand…it was crazy.We waited out the rain, which lasted for about an hour, the heavy stuff at least. As it stopped, everyone emerged from their hiding spots and started to repair their little homes (as I called them). I taped up my tarp and rehung it (the side had completely ripped off). After lunch, it rained some more, but was nothing compared to what had come earlier. We stopped that afternoon to drop off the old man with the weird questions…I was kind of glad to see him go. Apparently, I found out later, he had bet some people 10 Bolivianos (about $1.20) that he would “kiss the gringa” before he left the boat…well, he lost that bet. We did get some fruit from his land, though; I ate Pure Guava for the first time – did you know you can just eat the skin and everything?
Things dried out during the day, and I talked some more with the people on the boat. Everyone kept asking me if the US government was paying for my travels (I wish…now that would be a dream come true). I explained to them that I worked a lot for this trip, and it comes purely from my bank account. People were also very curious to know how much everything I had cost, too, which made me feel very uncomfortable…my camera, my hammock, my trip, how much do teachers make in the States. I avoided answering at all costs, and when they pressed I found myself underpricing everything. I know these people are very poor compared to the cost of living in the States, and I just felt very uncomfortable discussing money; I did, however, make a point to explain that everything was more expensive in the States, as if that somehow justified everything costing more…
It was dry when I went to sleep that night, but I woke up around 4:30am and could hear a gentle rain on my tarp. I decided not to get up until I got wet, although I knew that would be the less than ideal way to start the day. Instead, around 6am, the boat stopped again to unload a bunch of cargo…it was still raining. Most of the cargo was coming from right underneath me, so I was forced to get up and out of the way…I also figured with all this cargo gone, my backpack would better fit under the tarp and stay dry, however, they took the tarp away with it, leaving my bag even more vulnerable to the rain. Good thing I’ve got rain gear for my bag…
The rain continued steadily during the morning…by the time we had breakfast I felt like it was almost noon, since I had gotten up so early. Breakfast was more masaco (the mush stuff), an egg and some sort of oatmeal drink. I spent part of the morning while hiding from the rain talking to another passenger, Elvis. He was all about pop culture and had tons of questions for me…”Where does Cameron Diaz live?” I don’t know, I…”Where does Emilio Estevez live?” Don’t know, I don’t pay that much attention to pop culture, especially where these people live. And he kept asking me more and more questions along the same line that I had no answer to.
One of the boat pilots (he wasn’t a captain, so I’m translating from Spanish on what to call him), named Vidal was extremely concerned with my hammock location and showed me a dry spot on the boat proper where I could hang my hammock. “Thanks” I said. “I’ll hang it there if it gets desperate.” I sat and talked with him for a few hours while he drove the boat. He had been doing this for 32 years and was paid B$1000 a month (about $125).
So, this was something like the 3rd full day on the boat…at times it was boring, at times it was exhausting, at times I felt like it was never going to end. We towed a boat along with us, which brought some new people to talk to. I was asked to write a little note in Englsih for a lady (Rita) and her daughter (Mell) in her diary, and I spent the early part of the night talking with the other passengers. I sang them the ABCs and answered so many questions…we talked about Bolivian politics, especially Evo Morales (affectionately known just as Evo). This is the first time that a president has actually won with the majority of the votes. There are usually something like 6 candidates, and if no one gets 50%, the congress elects the president. That being said, this is huge for Bolivia…they are extremely hopeful that Evo will put an end to a lot of the corruption here in Bolivia and help the poor – that’s who elected him.
The next day (Day 4) was hot and sunny, so I spent time hiding from the sun, which was extremely hot…I had already gotten burnt and could tell my nose was peeling, though I hadn’t actually seen myself since Brazil (my hotel in Guayaramirim didn’t have a mirror…I had a small one with me, but figured it was better not to look…my one-bucket of brown water bath was enough to rinse off sweat and smell, but was hardly enough to get that deep down clean). I moved from group to group, all hiding under trucks, playing homemade checkers, to cards (a similiar game to what I played in Brazil), and talking. Between Alejandro and Elvis, I was answering questions non-stop. Elvis wanted to know more about pop culture (of which I know very little), and Alejandro wanted to know more about me and what I know (I’m a little more well-versed in this).
I sat with Alejandro on the side of the boat, watching the nature slowly pass by, and we came upon a little village with small hut-type houses. “Man, how simple this life must be” I said. “How would you like to stay here with me and have a life like this? We would live in the nature, and I would work, and you could stay home and take care of the kids?” Oh Jesus. Where was this coming from? “I’ve been asking you all these questions to see if there’s chemistry between us.” Oh, that’s it…I see…and there is chemistry? Alejandro was a hopeless romantic, a photographer, a Che Guavara fanatic, and a self-proclaimed evangelist. He told me about how he almost died in a mudslide and consequently found god…he vividly explained his visions of heaven (with angels singing and everyone with their own house), and hell (fire and smoke and people crying). Unfortunately, it looks like the majority of people are going to hell. Sorry.
So, after all this, I was a little freaked out. Alejandro had become one of my closest friends on the boat, and now he wanted to spend his life with me. I didn’t say much…I’m not really good with that sort of thing. I was yawning, though, and he suggested I go get some sleep…yeah, good idea. I was told “the South is coming” that night, which apparently means that the cold winds from the south are bringing colder weather…I wasn’t sure how that would translate in the jungle, but it did get a little chillier that night. We stopped around midnight to unload some more people and cargo; I slept through most of it, but was woken up by Vidal, who was giving me a big warm woollen blanket, tucking me in my hammock…it did come in handy. Thanks Vidal!
Tags: Bolivia, Tag Index
Tania
March 20th, 2006 at 8:13 pm
wow… seriously. you should pretend that you’re mute on the next boat trip.
so….alejandro…was he at least cute?