The Saga of La Paz

or How We Learned to Love Silpanchos and Hate the Amazon Jungle

Monday

Morning dawned in the Yungas and we slept in. The ragtag group still relaxing in the jungle didn't get back on the road until noon and didn't make it back to La Paz until late in the afternoon. No time to do anything fun like go to the circuit or do anything constructive like go to the airport and pick up our tires.

Yes, the long saga of the tires was coming to a close. The Herculean effort of our friends back home, principally Leo Veras and Jeff Poehlmann, had beaten the demons of international shipping. The tires arrived in La Paz via Lloyd Aero Bolivia on Sunday night from Miami. They were currently awaiting us in the customs office at the airport, but we knew it would take a full day to pull them out.

Instead, we finished the day hanging out at Top Shop, writing on the laptop and generally goofing off. David had dutifully waited for our return the previous evening, and when that didn't happen, waited again all during the day, busying himself working on the digital photos and on his motorcycle, which for a few days now, had sat precariously perched on a small tool, both wheels off, axles awaiting the brand new Dunlops.

Good thing we're not riding horses!

That evening we were invited to have dinner at Marcelo's house. As we sat at the table, fine dishware lying atop a pretty tablecloth, delicious smells wafting out of the kitchen where Dora, the housekeeper, was busily preparing the food, we realized this was the first full-on, sit-down, invitation-only, home-cooked meal in someone's private home on the entire trip so far. Glasses were raised in a toast to our Bolivian hosts and to the good fortune that had brought us to them. Then we stuffed ourselves silly with all manner of local foods - chicken, beef, rice with cheese, potatoes, fruit. The food kept coming, and Marcelo, Sandy, and Erica insisted we keep eating.

The serving bowls empty, our plates wiped clean with pieces of bread, our hosts relented and allowed us to remove ourselves from the table. We retired to the bedroom to watch motorcycle videos with names such as "TerraFirma 2" and "Crusty Demons of Dirt" starring all the off-road and motorcross champions performing amazing stunts and jumps in the most challenging of terrain. The wipe-outs and spills where also a part of the video, reminding us all too well that we were years away from trying anything similar. Still, our blood was boiling to get back out to the track.

The sinking feeling we had while watching these professional bikers wipe out makes us think that it should be mandatory for new bikers to be strapped to a chair, eyes on the video, until they consider a safer method of transportation. If, after watching this torture they must still have a dirtbike, then they should be deemed unstable, in which case a dirtbike is the perfect outlet for their madness.

Actually, we should add that in order to be a proficient motorcyclist on the street, nothing can prepare you for the road better than to learn to ride in the dirt.

In any case it took considerable self-discipline to hit the stop button on the VCR and ride back across town to our home away from home for a good night's rest.

Tuesday

Another fun day at customs. Marcelo, Gary and Alex went off armed with the Riding to the Moon information book to get those tires out as quickly and cheaply as possible. David stayed back to supervise more routine maintenance on the bikes. For the most part, we had done all we could without the parts from Kawasaki, but now it was finesse time. With a little tweak here, a little tweak there, here a tweak, there a tweak, everywhere a tweak-tweak, the bikes should be as good as the day they rolled off the assembly line.

True to form for every bureaucratic experience we'd had in Central and South America, the process at customs was cryptic and labyrinthine. We very quickly determined where the tires were, who we had to talk to for a discount on the normal import tax, and who to hound for the whole process to go quickly. A young tramitador did his best to help but unfortunately turned out to be more of a hindrance, forgetting forms, neglecting crucial steps, etc. Fortunately, being in the import business, Marcelo knew the process well and was well-known around the scene.

Fun at Customs

The replacement Minilux camera from Leica had, by coincidence, just arrived that morning with DHL, so we were able to kill two birds with one stone. After the obligatory lunch break by the entire customs department, things quickly fell into place. By three in the afternoon, Marcelo and Alex were allowed into the warehouse to search out the goods. A light rain which had turned into quite a squall complete with high winds and hail miraculously abated the moment the tires triumphantly rolled out of the building, securely in the possession of your's trulies.

Back at Walter's repair shop we excitedly unwrapped the tires, so well packed up by Jeff (good job, buddy). A couple extra tubes were included as a bonus. Deeply treaded and pristine, knibbies poking out all over the beautiful black perimeter of rubber, we nearly cried at the site. Our old tires lying in a pile on the shop floor looked sad and tired compared to these new babies. How they made it so far is a testament to tire technology and proof positive that with the new Trailmax's installed, in combination with the Slimed tubes still in as great condition as the day we left Los Angeles, the next 8,000 miles would be no problem keeping the rubber side down. Now all we needed were the parts from Kawi USA which would be arriving hopefully any day and we would be rolling out of La Paz towards the wilds of the Amazon jungle.

We had dinner again at Kom'Aqui. David had the papas a la huancaynas, Gary and Alex the silpancho. We were really enjoying the Bolivian cuisine, saltenas every morning and silpanchos in the evening. But the rivers of Coca Cola we were consuming were beginning to rot our teeth out. How these people can eat so few vegetables and drink so much soda is truly frightening. David was doing better than Alex and Gary, but no one's diet was likely to improve muc until our return to the United States

When we returned to Carmen's house for the evening, more food and Coke were awaiting us. We managed to swallow enough to satisfy our kind foster mother Miriam, then chatted for a while sipping hot mugs of mate de coca. This too was becoming a habit, especially for David. Mate de coca in the morning, lunch, and before bed was turning him into a regular campesino. Of course he only drank it because it was good for his tummy, ya know (not because of its mild narcotic effect). Is that stuff legal in the USA?

Wednesday

Today was Save the Children Day for the Riding to the Moon team. Ever since our wonderful experience in Managua, we planned on visiting the principal South American office for STC in La Paz.

Ned Olney, the deputy director, welcomed us warmly into the pleasant downtown offices of STC. We spoke at length \about their work in Bolivia and were very impressed by the level of success they have had in their two impact areas. The program, known locally as the Desarollo Juvenile Comunitario, had been in operation for 10 years in the Inquisivi province 5 hours southeast of La Paz and for 3 years in the Oruro district 3 hours south.

Ned showed us a very professionally produced video about their work with the indigenous women, empowering them to raise their social status in the community and seek solutions to problems they commonly face in their daily lives. In Bolivia especially, Save the Children works not only with the children but with the community as a whole, seeing a stronger social structure and family unit as key to the future of the children.

Ned showed us around the offices, introducing us to the many dedicated employees and volunteers. In one office, the Child Sponsorship Coordinators were busy sending letters written by sponsored Bolivian children to their host families around the world. The letters, often accompanied by colorful children's drawings, clearly showed the difference being sponsored makes in the lives of these disadvantaged children. We spoke about the whole sponsorship process in detail, how the money is spent on the children, how much correspondence the children have with their sponsors, and how the whole community benefits in turn.

Dedicated and Happy

We discussed the possibility of visiting an impact area, but the distance and difficulty in reaching these remote mountain communities, especially in the rainy season, combined with the fact that the principal programs were in hiatus due to the summer holidays, meant that it would be best to do it another time. Perhaps we would return one day soon and help produce another outstanding video like the one Ned had shown us.

David returned to Top Shop and Gary and Alex went to the Brazilian embassy to pick up the visas. Unfortunately, in addition to handing us back our passports they handed us some BS excuse about why they couldn't do a letter of introduction for us. It would take at least three weeks if at all. Oh well, we'd crossed borders without them before.

Lunching just the two of them, Gary and Alex began to discuss the future route of the trip. Way back in Lima, going through the Amazon had seemed fun and time-permitting. But now, two and a half weeks later and still only as far as La Paz, they began to question the plan. Alex felt that if he were to go through the Amazon he wouldn't have time to continue on to Ushuaia. Gary felt that maybe none of them would, if the Amazon took as long as long as it reputedly can. Perhaps it was better to just go straight south, either into Chile or even better into Argentina, get to Ushuaia quickly, then spend the leftover time doing something adventurous like the jungle.

Back at Top Shop, when presented with the idea, David voiced very strong objections. His heart, mind, and soul was set on the Amazon. We had made a decision and should stick to it. Gary had always planned on staying an extra month in South America on his own so he knew he had the time. David was willing to extend his trip long enough to fit in the Amazon. The discussion went round and round, ultimately going nowhere. David's obstinance seemed to win out, but there was no verbal agreement on anything. In fact, the silence was painful and a bad sign for the future.

On top of everything, we received word that the parts had not yet been sent by Kawi USA. The popularity of the KLR in the U.S. made parts scarce, and Hector had to call Atlanta, Detroit, and other factories to round them all up. We briefly discussed having the parts sent to a city in northern Brazil and us just getting on the road ASAP, but commiting to that idea meant commiting to the Amazon, which Gary and Alex were reluctant to do. Hector's preference was to still send the parts to La Paz, and he assured us they would arrive by early next week. We decided to stay and wait.

We dined at Marcelo's again for dinner, followed by rented movies on the VCR, but the events of the day had disrupted the tight comraderie of the group. David went home early to spend time with Carmen and family. Marcelo and Sandy went out for the evening while Gary and Alex stayed at Marcelo's house and watched two movies in morose silence.

Thursday

David woke up to find himself alone in the bedroom in Carmen's house. Gary and Alex hadn't made it back the night before, but had sacked out atop a bed of sofa cushions in Marcelo's living room. There would be little to do today but try and stay busy enough to not smell the bad air between us all.

Gary dove into the journals and occupied his mind trying to reconstruct the events of several weeks ago. Alex spent some time with Marcelo doing errands around town and getting the Mamiya photos developed from our Yungas trip over the weekend. David put in more time at the shop tinkering with the bikes and e-mailing at Walter Mur's office downtown. Any attempts by any of us to discuss the route were met with either wasted arguments or stony silence. It was as if we were all waiting for divine intervention to force us one way or the other.

We heard word from Jim and Jay via e-mail, who were also playing the waiting game in Santiago. We'd heard from them a week prior from Santiago and actually thought they might even be in Ushuaia by now. Their problems and delays made us feel slightly better in a sadistic sort of way. If they where in Ushuaia, it could have made us feel worse, us being so far away physically and mentally from the end of the trip still. Small comfort overall.

In the evening, the weather decided to match our own foul dispositions. From clear skies to a raging ice storm in minutes, the city was covered in no time with small white balls of ice about the size of moth balls. Then just as quickly, the hail stopped and was replaced by a steady rain which only lasted another few minutes, enough time to melt all the ice, making the whole episode seem like a dream. (But we have the photographs to prove it.)

The Proof!

Marcelo, always jovial and full of energy, tried to infuse some fun into our dark moods with a visit to the big disco in town, the Forum. David declined and went home to write and think. The crowd at the entrance to the club discouraged the rest of us from trying to get in, so we traipsed over to the Karaoke America club. In a little private room, amidst the sappy love songs, hard rock anthems, and easy-listening ballads, Alex and Gary managed to forget for a while their troubles, but their sleep that night was just as filled with doubts and worries.

Friday

Heavier silences, growing resentments, and strong doubts that we would ever smooth things out were the order of the day. Another group discussion did nothing to ease the situation. On the contrary, it reinforced everyone's position. The possibility of breaking up was voiced for the first time. The threat of such a thing brought low moods even lower. Were there solutions? Could we find a compromise, one that would satisfy the Riding to the Moon goal of every rider making it to Ushuaia while satisfying our individual goals as well?

David knew the trip would end mentally and thus physically for him once in Ushuaia as his relationship at home would take immediate precedence over everything. So he had better do the Amazon before, because he wouldn't do it after. Alex had his heart set on spending quality time with his family in Sao Paulo, a goal he had been willing to sacrifice Ushuaia for, but being so close, and knowing Gary had doubts about the Amazon as well, Alex saw the opportunity to do both, see his family and go the distance. Gary was categorically stuck between a rock and a hard place. He shared David's interest in the Amazon, but at the same time was passionate about everyone making it as a group to Ushuaia. Losing Alex in Sao Paulo was not in the spirit of Riding to the Moon. On the other hand, Alex had been willing to give up Ushuaia if he had to, so was it worth foregoing a major experience in the Amazon to accommodate his change of heart? This point was one of David's arguments as well.

We all split up again having resolved nothing. Alex went to pick up some large-size prints he'd made from the Yungas trip. Everyone loved the pictures, including us. (Some of the photos from Days 65-65 are digital reproductions of these prints.) Knowing we would keep the negatives, we gave the prints as a present to Marcelo and Top Shop. To have some Class-A fun (and to blow off some steam), Alex took Marcelo's KDX to the circuit.

Back in Top Shop, working almost side by side in the small upstairs offices, Gary on one computer writing journals, and David using a monitor with the laptop to work on the photos, the tension was palpable. These two long-time friends of 19 years were wondering to themselves how their friendship would come out of this situation. What if the team split up and they went separate ways? Or would there be resentment if the team stayed together but one of them had obviously won out? Contrary to the strangely polite but terse questions and comments passing between them ("Gary, do you like this picture or this picture better?" - "David, read this sentence and tell me if it makes sense."), both were seriously hurting inside.

Our ever-chipper social event coordinator and honorary Senorita Congeniality, Marcelo, made reservations for all of us to go to a peña, a theatre showcasing traditional music and dance of Bolivia. Group after group performed in a three hour show of pan-flutes, drums, armadillo-shell guitars and harmonious lyrics in Spanish, Aymaru, and Quechua. One boisterous band played classics from other countries, depending on the makeup of the audience. "Oh Suzanna" (as in the girl who shouldn't cry for me, cause I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee) was the representative song of the United States. They even knew a beautiful ballad in Japanese, soulfully sung by a Japanese man in the audience.

The different bands represented the various regions of the Bolivian Andes, differing not only in their instruments but in their dress and style as well. Some wore loose-fitting colorful cloaks of wool, others tightly tailored cotton suits. Some wore the bowler style hats of the Quechua, while others sported sombreros of the vaqueros. Some wore their hair short, others long and braided at the end with cotton tassels. Some of the groups were outgoing and lively, others more reserved and humble. It was a compendium of all the wonderful flavors of Bolivia and an unforgettable experience.

Miles for the week - 72