December 7. Always a memorable day thanks to Pearl Harbor back in 1941. What do they call it...the day of infamy? Well that is what it ought to be called. Especially after a 16 hour trip from Santa Cruz to La Paz turned into a 23 hour ordeal. Seems as though some teachers in a little town about two or three hours from LaPaz decided they weren't being paid enough and that everyone traveling the main road needed to know about it. So what do you suppose is the best way to accomplish that here in Bolivia? Put up a billboard maybe? "Underpaid teachers...donations accepted next exit." Not a chance. I mean come on, that would be wasted effort. You go to all that trouble and expense and then no one even has to look at your sign if they don't want to! So how about a roadblock. That's right. Then everyone will know what's going on and they will hate it as much as you do even though they can't do anything about it! Oh sure, they'll probably hate you too, but what does it matter when you're already underpaid. So go ahead, throw some rocks on the road, and don't let anyone move them. "You shall not pass" as Gandalf would say. I think the Bolivian version would be "no pase." But whatever...the point is that the command is emphatic and you durst not disobey unless you want to receive bodily harm. Running roadblocks is just not a good idea down here. Fortunately you can detour. As long as it's a BIG detour. Our first attempt to circumvent the blockage consisted of a little offroad jaunt through some fields, but the locals, who were beginning to remind me of Edomites, discovered our plot and denied passage once again. So we joined the disgruntled caravan of rerouted traffic and headed into the wilderness. But the wilderness too set its will against us. After wandering on small winding roads for several hours, we passed through a village and came to a huge dry lake bed where the road disintegrated into a mere track. In the distance I could see the carcasses of two busses and several trucks with their passengers milling about them like scavengers disturbed from their meal. The stalled vehicles were all tilted at various bizarre angles, their low sides swallowed by the sand. But the dismal panorama did not deter our bus driver. We forged onward, ever closer to the ghastly spectacle. We would not relent. We would pass or go down in the attempt. We went down. Everyone piled out, murmuring and complaining in at least 3 different languages. The left side our bus was sunk up to the axle. Someone produced a shovel from somewhere onboard. No doubt they carry it specifically for such predicament. Some of us took turns digging with it and various other implants (like our hands) while others brought rocks to put under the wheels. Half a dozen portly señoras directed operations. Each one seemed to possess her own great wisdom for how to remedy the situation. With the help of their excellent counsel we were soon ready for an attempt to free ourselves. Everyone put their shoulders to the bus and pushed as the driver gunned the engine. All was going well until he decided to turn the wheel. And just like that we were back in the muck up theaxle. Ridiculous.. The entire spectacle was ridiculous -- immobilized vehicles strewn across the desert for a span of several kilometers. It looked like a picture from the six-day war when the Israeli airforce completely devastated the Egyptian-Syrian armored division. Minus the bullet holes.

So we went back to our digging. Eventually someone showed up with a tractor from the village we had passed. It pulled us out and we were good to go. But for how far? We carefully threaded our way through several more kilometers of lake bed before we reached terra firma. It was a miracle we didn't get stuck again. So we got to LaPaz around 4:30, just in time to catch our bus to Lima. Clearly the Good Lord was lookin' out for us.

Yep. I'm not complaining, honest. I'm on my way to Peru for vacation! Why would I be complaining?

  ¶ 8:16 PM