17 Syllables plus...

"Asi Es La Vida"...

2010-01-03T00:03:00.001Z

Such is Life - ("Asi
Es La Vida"): A Tale of
Loco-emotion...

I've been filling in the bits of the Bolivian jigsaw I didn't complete the last time I was here during my 1991 - 2001 round-the-world jaunt (see 'Cheese Fondue' blog). I had no camera during those 10 years, apart from 3 or 4 disposables acquired along the way, but still somehow accumulated a cardboard-boxful of photos. One of those photos has always resonated with me disproportionately strongly, for reasons that are a bit of a mystery even to myself - it's not as if it's a particularly good photo. The one of which I speak is a shot of an abandoned old steam engine with the words 'ASI ES LA VIDA' ('such is life') competently graffitied on it, an old warhorse left to 'rust in peace' along with others of its kind in what has become a railway graveyard 2 or 3 kilometres outside of Uyuni amidst of a vast garbage-strewn panoramic wasteland. I must have been with someone else at the time for there is another photo of me reading, leaning against a similarly deceased locomotive, though I have no great recollection of events here those many years ago, certainly nothing of any great significance. Long story short, I went on a pilgimage to find this graffitied old friend of mine.
Having almost given up on finding it, assuming the graffiti had long since rusted into illegibility, I was filled with an inexplicable sense of joy when suddenly it came into view, the words still clearly visible.
Why I seem to have acquired an emotional attachment to this location/piece of machinery, I have no idea (there's a place in Putney, SW london, that has a similar effect - I go there sometimes, just to experience that certain indefinable emotion) I tend not to read up on my old notes - maybe I had an especially good time here all those years ago. If so, why can't I remember? Maybe the poignant sight of this once-powerful old beast in its final resting-place in the middle of nowhere simply moves me. Maybe I'm just emotional about still being alive all these years later (my partner at the start of the world trip, much younger than me, passed away a matter of days before my return in 2001). Whatever the whys and wherefores, finding this steam engine again has been, from an emotional point of view, a surprising highlight of my trip thus far.
Such is life, indeed...
Talking of trains, next up it was the 2:30am(!) train to Tupiza, more southerly still. The end of the line for me, and - almost exactly a century ago - the end of the line for a certain Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid, too. 'Terminal' takes on a whole new meaning: they met their end in San Vicente, a remote village four hours away from my destination, having committed their final heist at Huaca Huañusca, a spot not far from Tupiza. As for me, I´m hoping to leave there still in one piece, so I'll be keeping my nose clean. Not so easy, given the size of it...

Duncan Disorderly...

2010-01-03T00:04:00.001Z

We knew he was drunk
when he saw that 'Wet Paint' sign -
and tried to oblige...

- is that the same guy last seen slumped over the rather revolting toilet seat at 3:00am in the deepest of drunken stupors? Heaven only knows what all that crashing around was afterwards.
Booze in Bolivia is cheap. Some people can take it or leave it. Others can't leave it. Trouble is, they can't take it, either.
The joys of backpacking...

"aye, there's bound to be another, lad"...

2010-01-03T00:02:00.000Z

an alcoholic
optimist sees a glass half
full - but not for long...

a hippie's lament...

2010-01-03T00:01:00.000Z

"our daughter's out of
control, man - refuses to
get her nipples pierced...

...won't even get an
ankle tattooed, dude - the world
gone loco, or what?"...

Oruro...

2010-01-01T00:04:00.008Z

"Is that you in the
middle of the palindrome?" -
"Yes. But that was then"...

Oruro - 3.5 hours away from La Paz...light years away from Glenelg, Australia, its palindromic twin (I was careful not to talk to any 'extraneous people' on the way to the bus station, as instructed). My La Paz boarding house had so many 'warnings' posted up, it felt as if Bolivia's capital city were the most dangerous capital in S.America, as opposed to what in reality it is, which is one of the safest.
All the same, La Paz, so startlingly beautiful from afar, did drive me mad within a short space of time, as predicted. Maybe even sooner than predicted (see previous post). Walking the streets there should carry a government health warning, but for different reasons entirely: the all-pervasive, noxious exhaust fumes...the non-stop, brainless horn-honking...the jostling crowds and frequent bottlenecks...the ubiquitous squalor...mud, grime and puddles...the all-pervading stench of poverty - an almost constant assault upon the senses, in fact, and not in a good way.
People have it pretty tough here, as the all-too-frequent outstretched gnarled hand, hoping for the odd coin, so vividly testifies. Nearly always belonging to a stooped old lady with an incredibly wizened face who in reality is maybe no older than me. And invariably carrying an oversized bundle of heaven-knows-what on her already hunched back - probably another even more wizened old lady enjoying the ride...
Throw in some of the worst food it's been my privilege to taste (even my battle-hardened stomach succumbed) and, well, enough was enough. Even though I did belatedly discover a stand-out semi-buffet luncheon locale which must have been the best value, and tastiest, food in town. With vegetables!
And a free concert in the Iglesia San Francisco by the National Symphony Orchestra and Bolivian Choral Society went down pretty well, too. But not enough to swing it...

So on to Oruro it was, unexpectedly early. An unprepossessing (PC-speak for 'not particularly attractive'), unassuming, authentic and untouristed town, the like of which I seem to be partial to. Oruro has soul - and more internet shops than you can shake a stick at, memory or otherwise. This'll mean nothing to you, but it reminded me - sitting on a bench in the central plaza, watching the world go buy jelly-and-cream snacks - so much of Ciudad Hidalgo, a little backwater in Mexico where I stayed a few years back. And walking Oruro's streets wasn't going to have an adverse effect on my life expectancy, either. Peace! Well, relative peace. Walking, once more, had become a pleasure. As well as sitting, of course...
My aim had been to find a private room with en-suite bathroom and telly? within my budget. Christmas in style, that was the idea. I wasn't particularly hopeful, but boy, did I strike lucky: all of the aforementioned, and smiling faces to boot - not always the case in Bolivia, where dealings with locals can sometimes be pretty sterile - for less than 4 pounds a night (40 bolivianos). With two vegetarian restaurants within spitting distance, one of which was Hare Krishna. A bonus, indeed. No light in the bathroom, but who's counting? I immediately felt at home.

Then, bugger me if I didn't have another change of plan - despite all of the above, and despite a still dodgy stomach. It was Christmas, after all, and it was going to be a pretty quiet one, so why not bring forward something I had long been planning to do, and take a certain train ride on Christmas Day itself (or 'on the day of Christmas Day', as an Argentinian lady of my acquaintance would say). From Oruro ( that's 'Oruro', Jonathan Woss) to Uyuni. Something I didn't do last time I was in Bolivia, and you don't often get the chance of a train ride round these parts...but more of that later. This is more than enough to be going on with...

though greens never object if you leave them...

2010-01-01T00:03:00.005Z

There's nothing worse than
a woman scorned. Well, except
perhaps broccoli...

in a tight corner?...

2010-01-02T00:04:00.005Z

try ordering a
less restrictive one from your
local corner shop...

she's tasty - food's not...

2010-01-02T00:02:00.001Z

"there´s no point dressing
to kill if you cook the same
way, pet," he spluttered...

my stomach's still not completely recovered - hence this food obsession..

what's your favourite Christmas track?...

2010-01-02T00:05:00.007Z

that's some Christmas track -
Oruro to Uyuni's
a good seven hours...

...a very good 7 hours. Christmas tracks don't normally contain great lyrics, so the Oruro - Uyuni line had little competition, haha.
But enough of this nonsense. It was my Christmas treat to myself - a Christmas Day 'ejectivo' class seat (all of 9 quid) on the Expreso del Sur train to Uyuni in the remote highland area of southwest Bolivia. More a mobile psychiatric ward than a train, to be honest: just shove a telly in front of the inmates and keep'em sweet, never mind the always interesting - if not exactly spectacular - scenery. (In this part of the world 'una vida sin televisor no es una vida'). Arriving in the pouring rain at 10:45pm didn't help much, either. But, hey - a complementary roll and bottle of coke goes a long way (even if the roll's label, had it been graced with one, would have read 'of indeterminate filling'). Seven hours is a long way and, miraculously, my pretty badly upset stomach had sorted itself out just in time for me to be able to take advantage of what I had decided to look upon as my Christmas hamper (you don't get many presents travelling). 'Sorted itself out' may be a slight exaggeration - I was still cramping, but it was liveable with. More than I usually am, at least.
Anyway, I dived into the nearest hotel, damp of body but not of spirit: it had been touch and go with the old stomach, but I still had an hour of Christmas to enjoy, and the toilet was en-suite...

This seems to be turning into a travel blog - despite my best intentions. Oh, well - what the hell...

the dirty dozen (no, not that one - sadly)

2010-01-02T00:03:00.000Z

apart from the last
twelve, I've loved every one of
Eddie Murphy's films...

the surreal cafe - now open...

2010-01-02T00:01:00.000Z

two pints of pizza
and some corrugated plums,
please - wholegrain, if poss...

- hey, after what I've been eating/suffering here, this sounds positively mouth-watering...

(still) no title...

2010-01-01T00:02:00.000Z

another Honours
List goes by, and still this verse
remains untitled...

if, on the 1st, you don't succeed, s*d it...

2010-01-01T00:01:00.000Z

I always Knew Years'
Resolutions to give up
on puns wouldn't last...

(repeated from last year - why not?)

-------- HAPPY NEW YEAR! ----------

landlocked...

2009-12-17T09:00:00.030Z

sad the Land that has
two i´s, yet cannot see the
sea: Bolivia...

I've moved on - to La Paz, Bolivia. 'The highest capital city in the world' (though Lhasa, Tibet, still gets my vote). It may indeed have lost its coastline to Chile, but Bolivia still has a naval force. Probably based in Chesterfield..

La Paz: travelling
in the full glare of total
anonymity...

(you can't beat it, Michael Palin - though I'm still a fan)

...with its wonderful indigenous costumes wherever you turn (women wear brightly-coloured voluminous layered dresses, with often ornate shawls, topped off with Stan Laurel-style hats at least three sizes too small - rather comical to Western eyes), its infamous llama foetuses on sale in the Witches' Market, its masked shoe-shine boys (considered to be a shameful job) and its stunning location - set in a bowl in the altiplano (its height is usually given as over 3,600m, though there is no one level) it just has to take your breath away when it first appears under the horizon - La Paz is the most indigenously South American of South American capitals (as indeed is Bolivia as a whole). And it just happens to be my destination of choice for the Christmas period.
The whole is greater than the sum of the rest of its component parts, however...
With the traffic police constantly blowing their whistles, the incessant horn-honking in reply, the sheer volume of traffic generally, both human and automotive, the ubiquitous makeshift stalls clogging all the pedestrian arteries and the ever-present exhaust and other malodorous fumes - some of the streets take some climbing for the poorly-serviced vehicles - it'll all surely drive me mad in time. But it's early day yet (or 'early doors' as I believe you have to say nowadays, though I know not why).
So, until insanity takes over, I plan to just get lost in the crowds, do bugger all and stay well away from the travellers' circuit. I've been here before, many moons ago - indeed I had some great adventures and a lot of luck in Bolivia last time round, especially in the Amazon Basin to the north - so there's no overwhelming desire to 'do stuff' on this part of my trip. It wouldn't be the same. In the meantime, as far as I am concerned, Bolivia possesses that certain something that Chile lacks, and I could do with a whole bunch of it right now, as the Americans might say.
I've found a private room for around 3 pounds a night - cheaper than the 4-bed dormitory in the 'party-style hostel' I stayed at when I arrived - and it's all systems go.
Time to merge into nothingness and the seething cauldron of blissful anonymity...

and finally...

2009-12-17T09:06:00.014Z

...........................................
.........Merry Christmas - and..........
............a 17 Syllable.....................
.................2010...........................
....................................................

All good things come to an end...and most of the bad things, too - if only temporarily:...

'17 Syllables' will now be taking a short break, and the production team (me) looks forward to seeing you both again in the New Year. 'Have a good one,' as they say.

Vincent Hefter, La Paz, Bolivia.

Happy Christmas, Juan an' all...

2009-12-17T09:04:00.001Z

Feliz Navidad,
Feliz Navimum - and yes,
all the niños, too...

Happy Christmas...

2009-12-17T09:02:00.001Z

"goodwill to all men"
(bugger the ladies, right? - just
"goodwill to all men")

only joking - really!...

The Secret Diary of Vincent Hefter, aged - well, it doesn't say...

2009-12-15T00:01:00.004Z

Today was the four
thousand and seventy-eighth
best day of my life...

(we had chocolate-chip ice-cream)

paper chase...

2009-12-15T00:03:00.000Z

the cops tore up the
A3 - fortunately, I
was on the A4...

"indeed so," said the voyeur...

2009-12-15T00:02:00.000Z

would you call a two-
way mirror 'a window of
opportunity'?...

Whose Brief Encounter...

2009-08-26T17:24:00.006+01:00

"Arrest my case, your
honour" - "Don't you mean 'I rest
my case'?" - "YOURS? Since when?"...

in honour of my favourite film...

red-light districts (1)...

2009-12-14T00:02:00.000Z

do nosey parkers
like to pay & display in
erogenous zones?...

never 'eard of 'im...

2009-12-14T00:01:00.001Z

the liquid grace, the
limbs and hips, the moves that launched
a thousand ships: Bert...

bugger, bugger, bugger...

2009-12-13T19:32:00.007Z

...and one more, for luck. It's election day in Chile today, and it's illegal to sell booze till the clock strikes midnight on election days, or so I'm told. It'll be like the release of another Harry Potter book, with queues around the block - what a daft relationship we have with booze. I knew all about this bloody law - I'll confine myself to the one 'bloody' here - but forgot to stock up yesterday with my 1.5 litre carton of red wine (I've graduated from the litre cartons - with honours, I like to think). It's Pot Noodles & peas tonight (no, that's not my usual diet*) and it could have done with a nice Cabernet Sauvignon. Any bloody year would have done - just to throw in another 'bloody'.
Oh, well - rant over, and I'm the better for it.

* (the peas are an extra, haha)

*****************************************************

Foot in mouth moment (while I'm at it)...

There I was, slagging off celebrity culture from on high - one of my hobbies - when it turned out I was sitting next to the Production Manager of Heat Magazine (just resigned, so she could travel) - Britain's No.1 celeb magazine, as far as I know. But it turned out she was with me on this one. We survived the meal intact.

the wife's 3-point turn...

2009-12-13T00:01:00.007Z

1) I can't do it,
2) the car's too long, 3) can't
we just continue?...

- she's so much better at driving me up the wall (sexism: alive and well, and in hiding in S.America)

***********************************************************

To Ross, back running the excellent Sunny Days Hostel in Arica 5 days after a radical prostatectomy (though perhaps you should read 'walking' for 'running'): join the club!. There is life after death. I wish you a speedy and pain-free recuperation.