Day two of my Bolivian experience ran the gamut. This entry was written Friday night, but I couldn’t post it until Saturday (today).
I woke up early Friday morning and prepared to take a shower. Thankfully the guest shower has hot water. It doesn’t use a hot water heater like in the U.S. Instead it is an electric shower head that heats the water as it flows through the head. I was a little scared of the thing, truth be told. I envisioned being electrocuted or something. Actually, it worked well. The problem was that the water pressure was too high and caused the bottom of the head to pop off. I had to screw it on several times before I got it tight enough to stay. Continue reading “The Club, Bolivia-style”
Yes, there’s been an unusually high amount of rain in Santa Cruz since I arrived in January. And on Wednesday it was really rainy. It has also been very windy. I can’t complain about rain, since it eases the pain of the high temperatures that are the bane of my existence.
Sorry, I just had to get those rhymes off my chest.
We awoke early this morning feeling much better than yesterday. We both slept fairly well, though the beds are a bit….bowed, I guess. My neck was still a bit sore from the plane ride, too.
We changed our plans for Friday because we heard about a transportation strike scheduled for Monday, the day we originally intended to leave La Paz. Travel will probably be impossible that day, so we realized we would have to leave for Oruro on Sunday night instead of Monday. That forced us to push up our excursions to the ruins of Tiwanaku and Lake Titicaca. On tap for today was Tiwanaku.
The bus ride took longer than we thought it would. The most interesting part of the ride was when we had to disembark from the bus to cross Tiquina Strait. The bus went across on a ferry and, after paying a fee (of course), we were herded into motorboats and went across. Once on the other side, we petered around the plaza and waited for the bus to arrive. Once it did, we got back onboard. But not everyone realized the bus had come. The driver didn’t seem to care. He began driving off after honking a few times. Some passengers began yelling “Faltan! MUCHOS faltan!” (Missing, there are many missing!) So he relented and went back to pick up the stragglers, who were still unaware of their plight.
Sunday morning we had been scheduled to visit the thermal waters in Potosí with Yoli’s Tio David and the rest of his family. However, this didn’t work out because they had problems with their car. Instead they invited us to lunch.
We got to see his house, which us undergoing some major construction as they add a second story. We also got to meet two of his children: Karina (with her husband) and Daniel. Daniel is studying linguistics and speaks some English, so we had interesting conversation with him.
But something gave me a feeling I was getting into something over my head.
Ten years ago I learned to ride Bolivian buses by myself to and from Hebron Seminary where I was staying. Now my four kids are learning the ways of the bus. Things like: kids give up their seats for adults when the bus is full; keep your hands inside; get on and off quickly; and hold on tight.