One of the first things you notice about Bolivia when you arrive here is that there seems to be a free-for-all in the streets at times, an anarchistic element that is so embedded here that you could gather the entire country's police force to witness it, and the result would be a collective shrug as if they'd just seen a fly being swatted. Of course, everybody would then get on with their lives.
You will find twenty people packed in a pickup which is winding down curvy, not to mention steep roads (now do people still wonder how to put 20 Mexicans in a two bedroom apartment?). You will find an entire family of six riding on a motorcycle (right, Kathmandu?). Two driving lanes are not enough for a hundred thousand cars, so people push and squeeze until they've miraculously created six. Mothers sit in the front seat with her one kid balanced on her knees – unbuckled, of course. You will find things strapped to the roofs of cars that defy the imagination.
I continue to keep my nose clean here in La Paz, follow the rules where I can and bend them when I must. Often the proverb 'might makes right' rings true here in La Paz. You will cede the right of way to the bigger or faster car, knowing that your failure to do so will result in paramedics (if they arrive) trying to pull you out of a steel accordion after your car's been trashed. If there is a car too pushy for my own taste or trying to bully me, I put the pedal to the medal and adios! Not many people in this town mess with a Honda Pilot.
The other day, I recall driving home. Everything is going swell until I see this little old Brazilian made VW bug riding in a roundabout in Callacoto…with a sofa strapped to its roof. Never mind the legality or feasibility of it - I think it's safe to say that strapping anything to a VW bug, let alone a sofa, is a rare accomplishment, and one you couldn't possibly pull off in the west. So the bug is putt putting along, I take a well known shortcut to avoid traffic and find myself driving past the Hotel Camino Real on my way home, when I run into the VW bug with the sofa on top again. So much for the shortcut, I'm thinking. Yet there's always an itinerary I use that should cut into the overall travel time and avoid too much traffic. The second time I join the main road is where San Miguel meets Achumani. I stop at the intersection after congratulating myself on my rally through La Paz…and there's the little bug again with the sofa strapped to its roof, putt putting at probably no more than 30 mph, but clearly ahead of me still.
This won't do, I tell myself. I hit the gas, fly over a speed bump, and zoom into a curve that will take me away from the main road again, intent on avoiding traffic again and the main road and, childishly perhaps, beating this little bug with the sofa strapped to it to the last roundabout at Calle 22 in Achumani, the turn into my neighborhood.
I wouldn't say I drive recklessly when I take the detour, but certainly with a little more urgency than I usually muster when I'm driving. There are no lights on this road, no speed bumps, and merely one more left turn to sweat out before I would make it to the roundabout on Calle 22…where I find the bug with the sofa driving through the roundabout, as cool and relaxed as somebody brushing his teeth.
I'm crushed. My jaw drops. Beaten. My Honda Pilot. By an old VW bug. With a sofa strapped to its roof.
I'm crushed. My jaw drops. Beaten. My Honda Pilot. By an old VW bug. With a sofa strapped to its roof.
I think I'll take a taxi to work next time.
