The pool and driver's licenses.

Many of you ask or think, "what does a typical day look like in the life of Scotty and Lisa?". I can't actually answer that questions very concisely, but I can tell you about two things that happened the other day. Be forewarned: this is a long post. One, the pool. This actually happens a couple times a week, if things go according to plan. We've joined a club that has a lap pool and a small, kiddy pool that Natty loves. I'm swimming for exercise, as it's one of the best exercises you can do while pregnant, and I love to stay in shape. I try to go early in the morning, when only one or two other people are there. It's COLD this early in the morning. As I get out of my car and trek across the grass lawn (yay, grass!) toward the lockers, I wonder how I'm going to be warmer by taking off most of what I'm wearing. I look toward the large, glass enclosure that holds my destination and if it's totally fogged up, we're in business. One time the glass didn't have much condensation on it and I realized it meant that the air temperature inside the pool area was too close to the air temperature outside the pool area. That was a chilly swim. I grab a key off the board and wonder if the guy who is supposed to be there checking people in ever gets annoyed that I take a key without waiting for him to return. I like #62- it's a high locker for tall ladies and is toward the back of the locker room, where no one can see if they walk by the doorway that is only covered by a flimsy curtain. After donning my suit, my robe, my flip flops (pink, Brazilian, plastic ones I bought in the market for $3) and my swim cap (brightly colored one we payed way too much for at the other pool for almost $9)- I slide the squeaky glass door open and walk into the wonderland of chlorine and warmth. I love how quiet it is. I love that the sun is not up far enough yet to make it blindingly bright in there like it is later in the day. I love that I can slip into the water without feeling the slightest bit of chilly discomfort. I begin my laps, slowly, since I can't ever seem to get enough oxygen these days- between living in an altitude of 12,000ft. and having another being sharing the O2 in my body. I have a routine of a few swim styles that I repeat over and over and almost immediately, I don't notice if there's anyone around me. I only hear the water swishing in my ears and the sound of my own breathing. I only see the tile pattern on the floor, the clear water under the surface or the lines on the roof that I follow when I'm backstroking so that I don't accidentally wander into another lane. And when I'm done, my whole body feels good and refreshed. I take a quick, warm shower, dry my hair and can usually shed a layer as I return back to the car.

Something else that happened the other day, but we will not be making a habit of, was a trip to Transito. Transito is where you go to do anything related to driver's licenses or getting boots taken off your car. It is dark, dingy, old (think loose stair boards and exposed wood under the flooring), and always swarming with people who either seem to be needing to go somewhere very quickly or who have fallen into a trance as they wait for their name to be called. Scotty and I had to renew our licenses because they only last as long as our visas, which were invalid after we left the country for more than 90 days last year. It has taken us this long to get our new visas (of one year), our ID cards (also of one year) and now, with our ID cards, we can get our new driver's licenses....of one year. If you do the math, we came back in January, which means we have 5 more months of all of this stuff being valid before we have to do it all again. Hooray. So, we get in the "M" line and wait for someone to show up. I notice a large poster of a naked woman on the wall behind the counter and am disgusted, again, by how common and acceptable that is in places of business. A lady finally comes and takes our old licenses and tells us to sit down- they'll call our name. I find a seat and squeeze in amongst the masses. 10 minutes later she calls us and we jump up to find she just wants our ID cards. Sit, our names will be called. 10 minutes later (and things are actually moving quickly, relatively) and our names are called again. This time Scotty goes and says he will be back- needs to make 3 copies of something or other. He leaves, comes back, waits in line, hands over the something or other and its copies. Then he's told he needs to go do a few other things and pay something in a bank. Out he goes. I sit, reading the manual in case we need to take a driver's test and trying to figure out what the latest news is on TV. I notice the signs warning against giving in to corruption and bribes. Ironic. He returns and we both go to get in line at the medical check room. Up and over to a different section of the building. Swarms of people. Waiting in line. Fill out a form, sign it, pay some more money. Back in the same line to wait for a free dr. After a few mins, the dr. closes the door and tells us to take advantage of getting our pics taken. We beg to go in "real quick" for our check. Come back he says with a smile while the other lady "shuushes" Scotty for talking too loud while she's trying to hear her patient. We go get in another line for pics. Sit in a chair and don't smile (they don't like that) for the pic and pay some more money. Go back to get into the other line for the dr. Look in the window and see the 2 doctors are eating snacks and drinking coke. It is almost lunch time... Wait a bit longer and the door opens. Some older men block the way even when the dr. has waved me back- they were here first but they are behind me in the process. I squeeze past saying, "excuse me, they've called me back" and try not to look into their eyes of disbelief that this foreign lady is moving in before them. Friendly chat with the dr., give him my address, read a line of letters from the eye machine, pass, leave. Now time to go upstairs. Walk up the creaky, windy stairs, and find a small room with a small window that opens into a small room where the filing cabinets are kept (no digital info here). Lots of people waiting in front of that window. We push past, hand over our papers, pay some more money and are told we can come back in the afternoon to do some more stuff. Phew! Go downstairs and pick up our pics- I don't look too mad this time. I leave and go on a wild hunt in a taxi for the car while Scotty goes to pick up his motorcycle that has come in on a bus that morning. Traffic is terrible and it takes at least an hour to get home after leaving Transito. I eat lunch with our househelp and her daughter (she made curry while we were away- I love her.) and Scotty gets back an hour later. We rest, we wake up Natty, we make the journey downtown again- which includes driving up into town, parking, getting in a taxi and driving another 15 mins or so to Transito. We go back upstairs to pick up our things from the archive guys. I see some of the same people who were there this morning. We wait. Someone official looking finally comes out and reads off names. Scott David...Lisa Marie. Got 'em! We go downstairs and get back in the "M" line- give them all our paperwork and are told we can come back the next day for our license- yippee! It did take all day, but I can't believe how smoothly it went! Seriously- miraculously smooth. We walk down the prado until we get to the S.O.S. donut shop across from the university. It's a hole with one glass counter and an old-school cash register that has a couple types of donut. There's a line. We both get classic glazed and it almost tastes like Krispy Kreme. Seriously, best donuts I've had in Bolivia. We learned the next morning that our donut celebration was a bit premature...apparently, when Scotty returned to Transito to pick up our hard-earned licenses, they informed us that we hadn't taken the picture that would actually be on the license (the ones we took were just for the records). Maybe they could have told us that when we turned in all our stuff. To be continued...