16 de Julio

On Thursdays and Sundays, El Alto has a market called July 16th. It's huge and wonderful and has everything you could ever imagine you could ever want... for a third world country (meaning no good chocolate or blueberries or nice stationary). Anyway, what interests me is the blocks and blocks of used, American clothes. Natty needed a few items and since Scotty was heading up on Thursday to close the sale of his Landcruiser (gasp!), I decided to have Feli, our househelp, come in and watch Natty for the morning. We left as early as we could, 9ish, cause it's always more of an effort to get up to El Alto than we think. It doesn't seem so far away- Feli, in fact, comes down every morning with her girls to Mallasilla to drop them off at school. As we left our sunny neighborhood and began the 2,000ft. ascent, it began getting more and more grey. El Alto is cold in the summer, colder in the winter, and almost unbearable if it's raining. I prayed it wouldn't rain. When we finally plateau, we're socked in by clouds and fog...not great shopping weather, I think, but maybe the crowds will be thin. Then we begin the journey to our destination. As we drive, the road's becoming thicker with traffic and pedestrians. No matter what time of day or where you are in El Alto, you will get stuck in a traffic jam. We're in a particularly bad one at one point that is only allowing one car from our direction through the light. As we approach our turn, we can see why. When the light is green for crossing traffic, the cars pull out as fast as possible into the intersection and then get stuck there when their lane stops moving. Our light turns green and our lanes do the same. So, a more and more intricate and ugly jam is forming and slowing down everyone but heating up lots of tempers. Traffic lights and foresight don't mean a lot here. Pedestrians, at their own risk, weave in and out and between the almost touching cars. I never cease to be amazed at how the public transport drivers almost instinctively know their cars limits- they can squeeze close enough to other drivers to smell on their breath what they had for breakfast! Anyway, I decide to get out at one point on Scotty's recommendation and walk the rest of the way to the market. However, I was born with a lack of direction- I think my mom ate too much chocolate during pregnancy- and El Alto all looks the same to me. Grey, depressing, nothing green growing, brick buildings, people, vehicles, fried chicken, stray dogs. Scotty gives me directions as best as he can from where we think we are, I pray for God's guidance, and head off with the masses. Where I'm used to walking, I am not the only tall person or the only light-skinned person. I feel like I must not stick out much. Here, there is no other gringo in sight and I feel I must look quite obvious in my bright green rain jacket, towering at least a head above everyone else. I walk briskly, mostly because it's cold and I don't want to look like an easy pickpocketing target, and keep praying I'm going in the right direction. About 20 blocks later, I find the market! I get stuck in the car section for a while and am too timid to ask any of these manly-men selling their cars where the used clothing is. On a hunch, and a sixth phone call to Scotty, I take a left. I'm pretty sure there was a beam coming out of heaven on the first table of baby clothes I see. Unlike the Gap, these clothes look like they have just been shaken out of the huge sack they just came off the plane in, onto a table. Usually they are somewhat organised piles, ages 0-6, for example, which still makes searching a task. I start digging. And digging. I find a few things here and there, pay the few coins to the good woman who continually pulls out more stuff for me, having no idea what size or gender is my child, and am on my way. I do this for a couple hours before it starts to rain. And then it rains harder. And then I wish I wore my wool socks but I habitually underestimate how cold this city is. And then I try to remind myself of how blessed I was to have been able to come up in the first place, without Natty and actually find stuff for her. And then, after half an hour or so, when I can't feel my toes and I am imagining myself in bed for 3 days with a fever and chills, I call Scotty and tell him I'm ready and he better be too. Thankfully, he was just about done with his transactions and I start heading in the general direction from which I think I had come. Yes, I decide after 10 minutes of walking, I think I've seen these cars before. Yes! This is the major highway I crossed! And there's Scotty! I'm saved! We huddle together, dripping, and wait for a free taxi. We find a warm one and as we head back into familiar territory, I show off my loot (several shirts, a skirt, a dress, a rain jacket, and a keyboard- all for Natty- all for less than $10 total). Hot chocolate and a hot shower to wrap up the morning/afternoon.

Cochabamba

I know I have written several times about how much we love Cochabamba, but it's not going to stop me from writing yet another blog about it. We decided to escape on Friday from our community that throws a 3-day, drunken, loud, up-super-late-and-stumble-home party, seemingly right outside our bedroom window this weekend every year. What better place to go and visit old friends than Cocha? So, we packed up the station wagon, loaded the child and left a bit earlier than planned cause we heard whisperings of blockades. They did not materialize on our trip, thankfully. We rolled into Mauge's house, our old (meaning previous, not chronologically) Spanish teacher, about 5 hours after starting our trip. Here's a smattering of what I enjoyed most:

-the hospitality of Mauge and Jorge

-laughing with Mauge

-Mauge's pancakes

-Mauge's steak on the grill

-getting to stay in a house that has enough room to give Natty her own space

-not having to get ready to go anywhere early in the morning

-getting swallowed up by the used clothes section in Latin America's largest market (and buying pink and green camo pants for Natty)

-my husband watching the semi-sick baby while I go used clothes shopping with the girls

-warmth and sun

-seeing old and meeting new friends

-watching Natty play, really interact, with a little girl her age

-sitting on the backporch and shooting the breeze all afternoon on Sunday

-strolling the main plaza and watching my daughter throw bird seed at, not to, the pigeons

-finding my Oakleys after almost losing them

-singing 100 bottles of beer on the wall with Scotty, all the way through, on the way home

-actually sounding progressively more drunk as we tried to sing faster to get the song over with

-the look of stupor on Natalie's face after her parents have sung one song for 11 minutes (yes, I timed it) and then saying, "more".

So, Cochabamba, the city of eternal spring and great memories, once again came through for us. Can't wait to go back.

P.S. Don't wait for pictures. I must have said 20 times while we were there, "can't believe we forgot the memory card". Grrrr.