O.k. I'll admit, its a corny title. But as I sit here with just a month left to travel before I settle into a new home here in South America, it's the only thing that describes my current sentiment. With my blog seemingly months behind, I cant believe I sit here in La Paz and have only just written about Rosario which I left 20 days ago.
It saddens me to think that each city gets only a day or two recognition and I have but a few days to a week for each city, when in reality, each city seems to be worthy of a lifetime. After hiking with a stray dog for 5 hours to shower under a waterfall and bask in the sun in Cordoba, dancing the night away in a boliche for halloween in Salta, visiting dear friends in Tucuman, going to 16,250 ft to see geysers and lakes of brilliant reds, greens and blues in Uynuni and finally now, tomorrow hanging on the precipice of taking a bike down the most dangerous road in the entire world, where 6 feet of gravel are your only savior from the hundred meter plunge off a cliff, and where cars and buses can whip around the sharp mountain corners at any second... it certainly seems that time is indeed fleeting. With Lake Titticaca still on the agenda here in Bolivia, with Machu Pichu, and sand boarding in Peru, beaches, friends, the lost city and job interviews in Columbia, wine tours in Mendoza and Interviews in BsAs and potentially Panama now... I do wonder if there is enough time to see it all. And do I have the will power to leave a city that I love every few days only to fall in love again when I arrive at some place new.
Even here in La Paz, where some might be less apt to go, the city can take your breath away. Surrounded by 22,000 ft peaks, with the city laid into the steep hillsides, domiciles take breaks from their climb up the rocky mountainsides only to make way for jagged cliffs where nothing could be built. Beautiful old churches dominate the landscape at the center of the massive city and at night they light up with a million little lights dotting the surrounding mountain range as their backdrop. Albeit not 5 minutes ago, as I wrote this, I heard gunfire and sirens, the city itself is a beautiful place, the people are friendly, except for obviously the shooters, and culture bubbles on every corner. Bright colors adorn most locals. Seniors carry bags on their back, big enough to fit three or four people, as they make their way up the steep roads, and beautiful handwoven and handcrafted artifacts from the rich indigenous past are everywhere to be seen. You can eat a dinner for the equivalent of about 70 cents American, with salad, soup and a main course, and guards with shotguns sit outside every bank, giving you both a sense a security and danger at the same time.
As I sit here, gunshots and sirens again echo through the valley of the city, but in the security of my hostel, I sit anxiously awaiting my first night out in weeks. This is La Paz, and La Paz is Bolivia and the juxtaposition of ideals seems to adequately describe this part of the world. Where indigenous culture raves against modernization, and coca leaves are sold on every corner while cocaine is prohibited. Where a coca farmer is now the President, Evo Morales, and is well loved by the people as the first indigenous president of Bolivia and the first indigenous sovereign leader of the territory since Tupac Amaru in Incan times, some 500 years ago. Where one taxi is safe and another is an invitation for a kidnapping. Where Flamingos rest at 15,000 feet on a red lake at the foot of a volcano, and coral reefs provide a home for cacti in the middle of an arid salt flat at 12,000 feet. La Paz and indeed Bolivia seem to thrive in this crossing of the old and the new, and the pure curiosity of it all is something special to witness. What the future will bring I cannot tell you, but as I sit here, awaiting my trip down death road and listening to gunfire, one thing is certain... Time is Fleeting and Bolivia Knows It.
It saddens me to think that each city gets only a day or two recognition and I have but a few days to a week for each city, when in reality, each city seems to be worthy of a lifetime. After hiking with a stray dog for 5 hours to shower under a waterfall and bask in the sun in Cordoba, dancing the night away in a boliche for halloween in Salta, visiting dear friends in Tucuman, going to 16,250 ft to see geysers and lakes of brilliant reds, greens and blues in Uynuni and finally now, tomorrow hanging on the precipice of taking a bike down the most dangerous road in the entire world, where 6 feet of gravel are your only savior from the hundred meter plunge off a cliff, and where cars and buses can whip around the sharp mountain corners at any second... it certainly seems that time is indeed fleeting. With Lake Titticaca still on the agenda here in Bolivia, with Machu Pichu, and sand boarding in Peru, beaches, friends, the lost city and job interviews in Columbia, wine tours in Mendoza and Interviews in BsAs and potentially Panama now... I do wonder if there is enough time to see it all. And do I have the will power to leave a city that I love every few days only to fall in love again when I arrive at some place new.
Even here in La Paz, where some might be less apt to go, the city can take your breath away. Surrounded by 22,000 ft peaks, with the city laid into the steep hillsides, domiciles take breaks from their climb up the rocky mountainsides only to make way for jagged cliffs where nothing could be built. Beautiful old churches dominate the landscape at the center of the massive city and at night they light up with a million little lights dotting the surrounding mountain range as their backdrop. Albeit not 5 minutes ago, as I wrote this, I heard gunfire and sirens, the city itself is a beautiful place, the people are friendly, except for obviously the shooters, and culture bubbles on every corner. Bright colors adorn most locals. Seniors carry bags on their back, big enough to fit three or four people, as they make their way up the steep roads, and beautiful handwoven and handcrafted artifacts from the rich indigenous past are everywhere to be seen. You can eat a dinner for the equivalent of about 70 cents American, with salad, soup and a main course, and guards with shotguns sit outside every bank, giving you both a sense a security and danger at the same time.
As I sit here, gunshots and sirens again echo through the valley of the city, but in the security of my hostel, I sit anxiously awaiting my first night out in weeks. This is La Paz, and La Paz is Bolivia and the juxtaposition of ideals seems to adequately describe this part of the world. Where indigenous culture raves against modernization, and coca leaves are sold on every corner while cocaine is prohibited. Where a coca farmer is now the President, Evo Morales, and is well loved by the people as the first indigenous president of Bolivia and the first indigenous sovereign leader of the territory since Tupac Amaru in Incan times, some 500 years ago. Where one taxi is safe and another is an invitation for a kidnapping. Where Flamingos rest at 15,000 feet on a red lake at the foot of a volcano, and coral reefs provide a home for cacti in the middle of an arid salt flat at 12,000 feet. La Paz and indeed Bolivia seem to thrive in this crossing of the old and the new, and the pure curiosity of it all is something special to witness. What the future will bring I cannot tell you, but as I sit here, awaiting my trip down death road and listening to gunfire, one thing is certain... Time is Fleeting and Bolivia Knows It.
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