R & R in Coroico

The downhill bus ride ended up in a little town called Coroico. What an amazing contrast to La Paz! La Paz is a big city with over 2 million people Coroico is a pueblo smaller than Quincy. Also, by going from 13,000 feet down to 3,000 feet, it´s like going from mild winter to summer. Here the few hotels all have swimming pools and people are actually swimming in them! I spent Friday night in a nice hotel with a big swimming pool. It was $6 a night.

Saturday morning, as pre-arranged, I met up with Luzandina and Rodrigo. Both are in their 20´s. Luzandina works at the hotel in La Paz I was staying at and one of her jobs is preparing breakfast for the guests. Most bolivianos prefer to start their day later rather thn earlier. So, at 8 a.m., when the little cafe opened, I would be the only customer. L. and I talked at breakfast. Her father is a doctor and owns a vacation home in Coroico. She has a degree in business administration, but like 70% of the university graduates in Bolivia has difficulty finding a job. She says she has to start somewhere so the low rung of hotel administration is where she´s starting. Rodrigo writes computer software programs for a company in La Paz. They invited me to spend Saturday night with them at her father´s house.

The property here is spectacular. The house is on the side of a hill looking out onto the towering Andes and the Oroico River way down below. There are orange, mandarin, banana, and many other trees on the property. The foliage is dense. You couldn´t walk through it without a machete.

Saturday evening we had a barbecue. Luzandina had brought along a freshly caught trout from Lake Titicaca (the highest big lake in the world...I go there next). The trout looked more like a small salmon. It was huge. She fileted it and then wrapped it in wet banana leaves right off the property. What a great way to barbecue fish! With the trout we had yucca, also pulled out of the ground in their "back yard," accompanied by salad and the ever-present rice. Yummy!

Afterwards, we went into town to check out the "action." One nice thing about all of Latin America is that in the evening the people sort of come alive. There are colored lights all around the small plaza. Teenage kids walk around it in circles, eyeing each oother. Little kids are running around playing at 9 o´clock at night. And in the warm night, with me in my t-shirt, the old Aymara ladies in their bowler hats are wrapped up in layers of wool, looking very dour but watching the action in the plaza and vicariously enjoying. All the stores are open and there are numerous sidewalk stalls, that were not there during the day, now selling every kind of food. We had a beer and headed back to the house. In the morning I woke up to the sounds of numerous birds squawking and screeching away in the forest. In the course of half an hour, I could see the fog move its way down the sides of the steep mountains, until we too were in fog. I already know it wil burn off by noon.

For lunch Sunday we had BBQ´d "lapi," which I think is the back bone and ribs of a steer. this doesn´t sound particularly appetizing but it was very good. We also had some fruits: "tuna," which looks like a dark green banana. It has a white edible interior and large inedible seeds; and "pacay," some other kind of cactus fruit, both of which were delicious. Added to that was an "almost guacamole:" all the ingredients of a guacamole but in the form of a salad.

What was otherwise a beautiful weekend ended a little bit on a sour note. Luzandina had bought the bus tickets for all of us the day before. The bus left at 5:30 p.m. It was a small bus. There were about 30 seats and 40 people in the bus. I just assumed were going to return to La Paz on the "new road," which is paved and relatively safe. Instead, we started going up the "World´s Most Dangerous road." I figured we must have to branch off somewhere to catch the new road. WRONG! By the time I realized I was on the WMDR, at night in the dark, slipping around curves in the mud (it had rained during the night) in this overloaded top-heavy bus, we were already about 5 miles out of Oroico.

I debated whether to make a scene, stop the bus, get the driver to go up on the roof and throw down my backpack, and walk back to town, or just grit it out. Luzandina was very apologetic. She said she didn´t know the bus would take this route. The bus ride for them to Oroico had taken the new road. She said it would probably be more dangerous for me, as a gringo with a backpack, to hike 5 miles back to the town in the dark. So I gritted it out.

I was on the aisle right behind Rodrigo. He could see out the front window. I couldn´t. For two hours, until we hit pavement, I just kept my head down, as we twisted and slid our way up the yucky road. Thank goodness, the driver´s speed was limited by the whining motor. I later found out Rodrigo was a nervous wreck.

Ironically, on the asphalt part, we came across a recently overturned truck. There was no apparent reason for tipping over, other than unsafe speed, or the right tires went off the pavement. The driver had the incredible luck that at that point in the road there was a shoulder, and not a precipitous drop.

Our bus trip took 4 hours. In La Paz, for some reason, I had no appetitie and went straight to bed!