So I´ve left Sucre behind to be a tourist for a little bit. In particular, I am going to roam over great expanses of salt in central Bolivia. I´m currently in the bleak, flat, high altitude town of Uyuni--we got here last night at 2 a.m. and had to wander the frigid streets with prowling dogs to find a hostel. We found one eventually, and today I enlisted, along with Nathaniel and our Swedish friend Sara, to spend the next three days voyaging across alien, salty, geyser-filled landscapes in a Jeep. Ostensibly there are flamingoes, and a glaring question has arisen in my mind: are the flamingoes salty? Clearly I am going to need to lick the flamingoes. Also, I am looking forward to learning all of the lyirics to Aladdin´s "A Whole New World" in Swedish and taking cheesy pictures of undescribable geology.
Leaving Sucre was weird. I mean I have to go back there to get my computer and my passport if nothing else, but it hurts to gradually dislodge myself from a place that has an unquestionable flavor of "home." I´ve learned to play Settlers of Catan. I´ve decorated my room, I´ve given my soul to the mountains, and all of the ladies in the market recognize me and call me mamita linda or querida caserita. The fruit lady even gives me bites of crazy exotic fruit for free every time I buy from her. And the other night we cooked a fabulous three course meal for Lidia, the secretary for Condortrekkers. It felt so much like family that it was almost uncanny. So it´s weird not to be there, but that´s how it goes, I guess: things arise and things pass away, like the ocean lapping the shore, or like huge salt lakes that evaporate over millenia and turn into enormous piles of table-salt. I will console myself by chasing incongruous pink birds through the desert in an effort to determine their flavor.
Leaving Sucre was weird. I mean I have to go back there to get my computer and my passport if nothing else, but it hurts to gradually dislodge myself from a place that has an unquestionable flavor of "home." I´ve learned to play Settlers of Catan. I´ve decorated my room, I´ve given my soul to the mountains, and all of the ladies in the market recognize me and call me mamita linda or querida caserita. The fruit lady even gives me bites of crazy exotic fruit for free every time I buy from her. And the other night we cooked a fabulous three course meal for Lidia, the secretary for Condortrekkers. It felt so much like family that it was almost uncanny. So it´s weird not to be there, but that´s how it goes, I guess: things arise and things pass away, like the ocean lapping the shore, or like huge salt lakes that evaporate over millenia and turn into enormous piles of table-salt. I will console myself by chasing incongruous pink birds through the desert in an effort to determine their flavor.
You learned Catan! I love that game! Best board game ever. Well, that's obviously the climax of your South American adventure. We'll have to play when you get home.
ReplyDeleteI guess I can say now tht "I have friends in high places!"
ReplyDeleteGran Peggy