Day 18 - Breathing

The high altitude makes you breathe. It makes you focus on your breath more out of necessity. Allows you not to take the air that passes through your lungs for granted. Makes you grateful for having a body that works. A body that is young and full of energy. Gives you strength to share strength. Puts you in a place where if you walk too fast you may just fall over. Taking each step with something good in your heart.

I look at my beautiful lady before I fall asleep and my mouth waters. Being a part this long - this far away - is too much for anyone. Almost in the opposite ends of the world I have a hard time understanding how it is so easy to communicate so quickly so far away.

Day 17 - Salt Flats of Uyuni

That stupid smile was on my face all day.
It was amazing.
On the top ten of the greatest things I´ve ever done.
So beautiful. Only images can describe it.
All the pictures were taken with the same camera with no photoshop.

Day 17 - Before the Uyuni Salt Flats

This morning at the market for breakfast I had a bowl of llama ozobuco soup with large pieces of corn. For the first time in a while I felt normal. When I arrived the Bolivians looked at me like "what you the hell are you doing here?" I was the only tourist in the entire market. Tourist A don't wake up at 7:30am to eat breakfast unless they have to and B tourists do not go to the Uyuni market to eat food. That bowl of goodness was so essential. Saved the marrow for last and had it on a spoon with a few pieces of corn.

On my way from La Paz to Oruro I met a young man who helped me take up the entire ride with good conversation. He gave insight on Evo Morales's current state and people's perception of him and I told him about the Lithium deposits in Uyuni. He told me about his uncles in France and how much he wants to join them some day. I told him stories about my father when he first arrived in Canada and how hard he had to work for his family. He replied "Isn't that what we all do. Isn't that what we all try to do, everyday?" "Yes." I said quickly "We're all working towards the same thing." He then started to tell me about how much he doesn't like the new priest at his church and how he prefers the English priests then to Bolivian. "The sermons are just more beautiful coming from an Englishman." I asked without trying to offend. "Why is it so different." He quickly says "It's richer, more authentic. His message comes from aboard. Something different, Something we can learn from."
I said nothing - appreciating and respecting his complete honesty. We sat there for the next hour in each other's comfort and silence.

Day 16 - Uyuni Train

The train for the most part was decent. I thought that riding in the cheaper seats, something horrible for a tall man to do, may get me the same interaction that I got on the bus ride from La Paz to Oruro. But there was no such thing. Half of the cart was full of either smelly hippies with nasty beaver tail dread locks or plane-jane tourists who seemed sweet. I couldn’t detect from their horrible Spanish where the smelly hippies were from exactly but their dog pack attitude made me dismiss them all together two hours into the trip. I was stupid enough to suggest a seat exchange with an older Bolivian man so that one of the smelly hippies could sit with his friends. What I got in return was a very boring old round man who lacked a certain sincerity. His leg and wing span on his small oval body made me clutch the edge of window and only arm rest. Near the end of the trip while he slept I had to get a little physical and work my way into my side of the seat. This morning I wake up in Uyuni with a loud lo-fi radio sounds coming from some of the rooms. The maid likes to play the tunes real high. I have also discovered by my 5:30am wake up call that there is a marching band or military base very very very close by. I’m sure thats its because of these alarming wake up calls that I may make my stay in Uyuni shorter then I thought. The amount of Lithium in the salt flats doesn’t seem to be general knowledge. I’m finding it discouraging that I, a foreigner, am educating them on its potential. Maybe I haven’t spoken to the right person. Yesterday on the train the man that sat next to me asked randomly if Japan was close to Canada. I tried to explain the distance and by the time he understood where exactly Japan was, we were ten minutes into our geography lesson. I didn’t mind explaining this to him – it just seemed that after he found out the distance, he couldn’t have cared less what I was saying to him. People who talk for the sake of talking to pass the time is frustrating. Behind me there was a lovely Bolivian family of four who's daughter enjoyed screaming at the top of her lungs. Surprisingly enough it didn’t bother me a bit – I just smiled and thought about how much I want to have babies. Today I am going to try and get some meetings with the municipality of Uyuni to see what the future holds for this small potential mining town. Tomorrow I plan on visiting the salt flats on a one day tour to see its visual potential for a possible documentary on the Lithium reserves. My gut tells me that the story I want to tell is in Potosi and that’s my next stop. My feeling is that Uyuni and its Lithium potential is something that still needs time to ferment and develop. But I will still conduct my research and get to the bottom of where the local and federal government stands on mining 70% of the worlds Lithium reserves.

Note: Waited 30 minutes for the picture to upload - no dice. No pictures till Sunday when I get to Potosi.

Day 15 - La Paz / Oruro / Uyuni

(This is the court that I shoot hoops on every morning in La Paz.)


On my way to Uyuni via Oruro today.
Early morning tourists litter the bus terminal. Oruro, Potosi, Sucre, Cochabamba, Las Yungas: all in different directions. As much as some of them bug me, its always comforting to see references I understand.
La Paz goes through all four seasons on a daily basis.
In the morning a very cold and foggy layer cusps the city with the possibility of it dropping into the minus celsius. Slowly at 10:00am Spring starts to take shape. You definitely feel like something is being born. By 1:00pm Summer brings its beaming rays of heat onto backs and shoulders of the Bolivians hustling through the streets - its time to take off your wool sweater. On the way home from a long day of internet connections and train station line ups the heat starts to subside. The sun starts to grow calmer and Fall begins to show its colours. By 8pm Autumn is in full swing, soothed by a nice cup of coca tea. Midnight strikes.
Cycle repeats.

Day 14 - Old Customs

This is the kitchen where we eat everyday. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with the people at the table when you’re feeling spacey and have this to look at. The entire view is such a collage of the region. You can see the largest mountain peak Illmani (6,000 meters) on the left side while out of frame on the far right side downtown La Paz lays in its proper bouquet of broken buildings. The US consulate is just blocks away at the bottom left of the frame. In the morning you can see groups of Cholitas making their way down to catch the mini buses to work.

Because of a recent landslide that crushed over 5,000 homes and this section of La Paz's water supply - there is no running water. Crouched down with two knees inches away from your face, a bar of soap and a cup/bowl of ice cold water to rinse yourself off is the method of choice. And because of that - I haven’t showered since I arrived. I’m in the same cloths that I wore while boarding the plane in Chile. I haven’t really taken any of it off because I sleep in most of them. The nights tend to be quite cold. My bed smells like wet dog but I’m grateful that I have a home to stay in with a familiar face – my uncle. He and his family just left for a recital at Sebastian's school to celebrate a Jewish holiday. My little step-cousin Sebastian goes to a Jewish school with almost no Jews in it but still celebrating all the holidays. Latin America is filled with these culturally or religiously specific schools like “The German School”, “The French School” or “The Jewish School.” My aunt told me that there about 120 Jews left in La Paz and most of them don’t practice or go to this school but because its owned by one of the few synagogues left in the city - the tradition continues. This household is all born-again Christian and so before our principal meals we hold hands and say grace. I’ve only really done this once or twice before. Every time I come across this pre-meal ritual I get nervous and very uncomfortable. With each prayer I start to become more accustom to it. I don’t really realize how culturally sensitive I am until I travel. By sensitive I don’t mean that I am always open to others but more of how it affects me, rarely in that mind altering way. There are so many vastly different denominations of Christianity here in Bolivia - I still have a hard time wrapping my head around that. I understand why but it still confuses my heart when people are so adamant about practicing a religion that once conquered them with such brutality. The more I come here the more I start to understand the comfort people receive believing in Jesus Christ but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Mostly because of the way it was delivered historically but also the very real truth of how people choose to survive. When I get in these semi-spirals of confusion I find that watching something familiar brings me back to myself. It may seem so silly but taking in an episode of Law and Order, Criminal Minds or John Stewart is my saving grace – so fucking comforting. It brings me back to a familiar and specific sensation that I understand while I try to figure out the unfamiliar rhythms and customs of a country I fear. That’s what probably brings back here, confronting that fear in depths of such much beauty. When I first traveled to Bolivia with an ex-girlfriend of mine she decided in the middle of our trip that she wanted to go and travel with a guy she seemed to fancy. Leaving me alone to understand all of this, I felt destroyed and immediately got on plane to Buenos Aires and visited my good friend Margarita. In her father’s home in Palermo Viejo, while licking my wounds, I felt stronger. More present in a country where it didn’t take much to match my own cultural references. Just those simple connections that I was able to make in a city that was closer to sea level - saved me.

Day 13 - La Paz

Just arrived in Bolivia and the weight of the altitude has me very slow and very tired. Over 1200 feet above sea level. Today I went out with my uncle (mother's brother) who recently fell in love with a Bolivian woman and has moved here. Their home is in a borough of La Paz, so it takes awhile to get downtown. Today we went to the market and my uncle's lovely yet awkward step-son joined us. We were just in time to see the parade of a carnival. The streets were filled with colours, music and celebration. Step by step while everyone sprayed each other with some sort of shaving cream, I barely caught my breathe. I don't know what I would do without coca-tea. Walking through those streets, going up and down, winded me bad. The first couple of days are always an adjustment period but it still feels like I have some sort debilitating disease. Its hard to believe that the US not so long attempted to force the Bolivian government to make the coca leaf illegal. I don't know what I would do without its medicinal magic on these trips. I should be heading out to the south of Bolivia on Monday or Tuesday. First stop is Oruro followed by a train ride to the salt flats of Uyuni. After that I make my way to Potosi. I am really looking forward to researching the history of Potosi and its affects on contemporary Bolivia. All three cities are predominately mining towns. There are tours that are given by some of the miners who belong to a coop. They're considered dangerous and anyone that decides to participate in them are given the "at your own risk" warning. We'll see, I may just back out at the last minute but I doubt it. Things have shifted a bit with Evo Morales - he seems more of a politician then a man of the people. I guess that was bound to happen. The thing that made me almost sick to my stomach was what I heard at 2:00am last night in a taxi on the way back from the airport - Evo Morales officially made a deal with Iran. They are partners in the mining of the largest reserve of lithium in the world (70%) - three times the amount of oil reserves in Saudi Arabia. If done correctly, Bolivia could be the richest country in Latin America by being the number one producer of the car battery where lithium is the key component. It's hard. It's really hard to understand why a country like Bolivia with all its potential would chose a dictatorship like Iran. A country that sends filmmakers to prisons and accuses Bahai's of being Zionist spies. Evo Morales officially falls into the category of a mediocre semi-socialist default leader like Obama, Chavez or Castor. I don't think the world will ever find a balance in economic policy where human rights and foreign policy compliment each instead of contradict.

Note: Remember how I spoke about the Chirimoya in an earlier post - they're in season here. Had it for dessert - so so good.