Coming Home

Coming home was a 24 hour adventure. Planes from Cochabamba to La Paz to Santa Cruz to Miami to Chicago. Then the shuttle to the parking lot and a drive home. I started on Friday at about noon and pulled into the driveway in Madison Crayon House at 3 on Saturday.

The day had a bit of a tough start. Cheshire had a stomach ache which put her in a pensive mood. Ches, Jason, and I took a bus to downtown Cochabamba to visit her college and say goodbye to her colleagues. The Catholic College of Cochabamba is a pretty school. Two and three story buildings with open air hallways around a very green garden with benches and tables.

Before and after going to the college, we saw a Cochabamba parade of children and the military. It was Flag day and each kindergarden and primary school was out in their uniforms to parade the flag. Very cute to see all of the uniforms. This was a parade to be in more than to watch. Watchers tended to be parents with cameras and younger sibs. The most interesting military display that we saw was a stationwagon with a 10 foot helicopter purched on top. And there were bands! Bolivia should have the best marching bands in the world!! Many, many, many bands. Mostly brass and drums with a sprinkling of clarinets and those walking zilophones. Some of the bands were high school bands and some were old men. The kids sounding a lot better than most of the old man bands.

We went home to a Beysa´s lunch made speical for us. Cheshire said that she likes to cook and her food was lighter than most of the Bolivian food we've have. She made a rice and corn soup which Julia would have loved. It was more tasty than congee but the same idea. Then we had spegitte and potatoes and a meat stew. It was very good and I really enjoyed it.

My plane from Cochabamba to La Paz was more than an hour late but I had a 5 hour layover in La Paz so it was just shorted by a little bit and I got to spend another hour with Ches and Jason. When I got off the plane in La Paz, I was confused as to where I was at the airport because of construction. I needed help with my two bags and I couldn´t see where the AA terminal was. A taxi dispatcher told me it was 5 Bs (about 85 cents) to get to the terminal, and I climbed in a cab thinking that it had to be a very short ride. The cabbie drove me out of the airport and onto the road to go into the city. I tried in my non-existant Spanish to tell him that I wanted to go the the airport terminal for AA but he didn´t understand. I tried to ask about some other airport because the ride was getting very long. He didn´t understand. Finally, I fished out my Lonely Planet book, found the phrase section (which is very sparce) and cobbled together some phrases to find out where we were going. He was taking me to the AA office in the middle of La Paz. I told him no, and to take me to the airport terminal. I made several attempts before he understood, and we wound up going through the center of the city (where we stayed back in 2002) to turn around. I must say that once I cleared up where we were going, I could sit back and enjoy the trip. I had wanted to go back into the city but didn´t want to carry my bags with me. This tour was great. When we got back to the airport (some 50 minutes later), we had to argue about price. Of course, he didn´t want the 5 Bs that I had been quotted, but I was not going to give him the 100 Bs that he wanted. I told him that I would give him 50 Bs, and tried to say that I did not want to go into town. He argued and threw up his hands at me but he finally took the 50 Bs. He was not happy and I wished that I could have apologized to him. Still, I thought it might be close to what he would have charged a Bolivian. And I practiced being a tough broad.

I had two very slight brushes with Bolivian security. In Cochabamba, they made me take my tooth paste and tooth brush out of my carry on because the plastic bag that they were in was too big. In La Paz, I left my new jacket in the internet shop before I went through security and even though I had at least an hour before my flight was to be called, security would not let me go back out. There was no reason but that it was the rule. I argued in my Spanglish until two other travelers befriended me. This too did not seem to make a difference but one of the guards took pity. I think it was because I told them that the jacket was new. They let me go back out but the female guard who was lower on the chain of command was a bit pissed with me when I came back.

Other than these little things, the trip back was eventless which was just perfect.

And one more thing -- Price of Coke Lite. In the little store across from Cheshire's apartment -- 3Bs for 20 oz. In the main part of the airport -- 6 Bs for the same 20 oz. In the waiting room after I went through security -- 10 Bs.