From the Beach to the Mountains: After Aruba
The physical considerations aside, it can be sobering to return to a two mile altitude in the mountains following a beach vacation.
We have been gone for less than three weeks, and yet it seems a lot longer.
There is little evidence La Paz has changed in our absence. The temperature is barely above freezing, yet I breathe normally, relieved that this readjustment process to the altitude appears to be less tedious this time around. From the plane, we see the Illimani mountain donning a thick white coat of snow, which is visible even in the dark.
Inside the airport, Charlize Theron is advertising for some perfume on a poster outside the duty free shop. Less than a mile into the city of El Alto, we see the Pacena company has produced a new beer, the negra, the black beer and boasts of this achievement on a billboard outside the airport. Stray dogs chase each other about in the wee hours in El Alto, one of them with a pronounced limp in one of its hind legs. This pooch will be ill advised to bark too loudly or chase anyone too aggressively.
When we leave El Alto and descend into La Paz, thick clouds of fog linger below us in the valley. It's as if we are still on the plane and are ready to land by penetrating the clouds. It can't be any later than six in the morning, yet there's a runner soldiering up this monster hill that has to be at least a couple of miles long.
Bash is in a pissy mood, and we soon find out why. Before we can even reach the valley, he throws up, visibly ill from both the change in altitude and temperature. Axl chirps about how he is going back to 'Axl's house' and how there will be a Spiderman costume that he's sorely missed waiting for him.
A junked up small Toyota Corolla taxi putt putts in front of us, its rearview mirrors on the sides completely missing and a spare tire serving on one of its back wheels. Anywhere in the west, this heap of junk would be impounded and probably sold for scrap metal. In La Paz, it is considered fully functional, meaning the taxi can pick up passengers and drive over a cliff as it sees fit. No need to deny anyone his or her livelihood.
Back home, the cleaning lady Lorenza is there early, which is remarkable. That lady has braved horrible weather conditions, floods, and violent street protests to show up for work – on time, no less – and she is once again demonstrating her value. The cat, needless to say, is royally pissed. Instead of a hug and a kiss or anything remotely resembling gratitude or joy, she scolds us for our extended leave of absence without her explicit permission.
We quickly unpack and sort out the laundry. Axl in no time is in his Spiderman costume, happy to be back in his element. Liebi and I sleep almost the rest of the day.
At work, people expect me to be somewhat mournful for coming back from R&R, but the truth is I'm clearly not. In fact, I am quite pleased to be back, to be home where I am familiar with things and can rely on my own wits rather than room service. More importantly, the kids are back, ready to get on with their lives and routines.
Even though I live and work here, in many ways I still consider La Paz a vacation spot in itself. Which is not a bad thing.
We have been gone for less than three weeks, and yet it seems a lot longer.
There is little evidence La Paz has changed in our absence. The temperature is barely above freezing, yet I breathe normally, relieved that this readjustment process to the altitude appears to be less tedious this time around. From the plane, we see the Illimani mountain donning a thick white coat of snow, which is visible even in the dark.
Inside the airport, Charlize Theron is advertising for some perfume on a poster outside the duty free shop. Less than a mile into the city of El Alto, we see the Pacena company has produced a new beer, the negra, the black beer and boasts of this achievement on a billboard outside the airport. Stray dogs chase each other about in the wee hours in El Alto, one of them with a pronounced limp in one of its hind legs. This pooch will be ill advised to bark too loudly or chase anyone too aggressively.
When we leave El Alto and descend into La Paz, thick clouds of fog linger below us in the valley. It's as if we are still on the plane and are ready to land by penetrating the clouds. It can't be any later than six in the morning, yet there's a runner soldiering up this monster hill that has to be at least a couple of miles long.
Bash is in a pissy mood, and we soon find out why. Before we can even reach the valley, he throws up, visibly ill from both the change in altitude and temperature. Axl chirps about how he is going back to 'Axl's house' and how there will be a Spiderman costume that he's sorely missed waiting for him.
A junked up small Toyota Corolla taxi putt putts in front of us, its rearview mirrors on the sides completely missing and a spare tire serving on one of its back wheels. Anywhere in the west, this heap of junk would be impounded and probably sold for scrap metal. In La Paz, it is considered fully functional, meaning the taxi can pick up passengers and drive over a cliff as it sees fit. No need to deny anyone his or her livelihood.
Back home, the cleaning lady Lorenza is there early, which is remarkable. That lady has braved horrible weather conditions, floods, and violent street protests to show up for work – on time, no less – and she is once again demonstrating her value. The cat, needless to say, is royally pissed. Instead of a hug and a kiss or anything remotely resembling gratitude or joy, she scolds us for our extended leave of absence without her explicit permission.
We quickly unpack and sort out the laundry. Axl in no time is in his Spiderman costume, happy to be back in his element. Liebi and I sleep almost the rest of the day.
At work, people expect me to be somewhat mournful for coming back from R&R, but the truth is I'm clearly not. In fact, I am quite pleased to be back, to be home where I am familiar with things and can rely on my own wits rather than room service. More importantly, the kids are back, ready to get on with their lives and routines.
Even though I live and work here, in many ways I still consider La Paz a vacation spot in itself. Which is not a bad thing.
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