Bolivia has Arrived

There was the military. There were colourful flags waving in the vast Andean sky. There were thousands of people. Indigenous people. Business people. Press people. Important people. So much color. So much culture. So much energy. Coca leaves were being chewed. There was music and dancing and chanting. Drums and flutes. The air was electric.

Then there was Evo.

It was a historical and surreal event at Tiwanaku, the awesome ancient backdrop to this ceremonial proclamation, two hours from La Paz city.

It was like you were transported back in time: experiencing an ancient and primitive ritual.

A helicopter carrying the Bolivian President flew overhead at precisely 1:00 pm. to a very excited crowd. As the mass of souls patiently waited for a glimpse of their leader their anticipation grew.

Traditionally dressed, the President emerged shortly on top of a hill waving to his ecstatic kingdom, being blessed by spirits and the indigenous elders and guides that surrounded him, protecting him like a newborn baby as if to welcome him into the new, very complex world.

I can't tell you exactly what happened there that day at the ruins of Tiawanaku, Bolivia, but I can say that it was a privilege to be there and to experience the fire, the passion, the triumph and possibly the birth of a new Bolivia.

La Paz is Collapsing

Overexposed to the images coming out of Haiti? Then this may seem like nothing in comparison: in Bolivia this month over 26,000 families have lost their homes due to heavy rains and flooding.

Last week in Bella Vista in the southern part of the city, a landslide occurred in the early morning levelling hundreds of houses. Thankfully nobody was injured, which is completely amazing when you see the aftermath.

The continuous sprawl of shoddy and probably illegal houses could not compete with the power of nature; and at least 200 active rivers that run beneath La Paz, making much of the city akin to a house of cards.

So why do they keep building here I ask?

When I was scrambling through the ruins shooting I was surprised, as many residents were happy just to salvage whatever they could digging out buried possesions with their bare hands: a radio, a crunched fridge, a child's doll, a mattress, a door, or their favourite blanket. It's like they've done this all before.

Most of the homeless have now moved on and many are now living in makeshift tents without amenities. A prompt visit by President Evo Morales lifted the spirits of the victims and numerous donations were offered by the public.

This is all very new to me, to be able to cross that line and stride past the Bolivian Military Police with my shiny new International Press Credentials, but I struggle with reporting on disasters where humans are in distress.

It makes me feel a bit devious and intrusive. Yet when I am this close to life and death and witness the strength and power of the human spirit in the poorest country in South America, it's uplifting, it's inspiring, it's like a drug and I just can't get enough.

Help Wanted: Sherpa needed asap

Lugging my gear around Peru and Bolivia for 3 months has taken it's toll (2 SLR bodies, 4 lenses, and a Macbook, ouch dwele mi espalda)

So much so, I have decided to hire a Sherpa (I know, I know, wrong continent but I just love saying "SHERPA")

Qualifications:
Must be in good enough health to tote 30 lbs. of camera equipment at high altitudes
Ability to boot-up a Macintosh Computer using llama feces or cow dung
Good at hacking wi-fi passwords
Can track down the (insert bad word here) who stole my iphone
Excellent knowledge of Photoshop CS4 Studio
Cook a meal sin potatoes, corn or animal hoofs
Give swedish massages (no happy endings required)
Can shave a head without an electric razor, scissors or broken ceramic pieces

Salary: peanuts (yes, the peanuts here are that delicious!)

Sherpa, Sherpa, Sherpa, necesito una Sherpa! (sing it with me)

Che and Lays: Where have you gone?

News flash: there are no Lays potato chips in Bolivia, I have searched the streets for them believe me. Thousands of vendors. They just don't exist.

They have disappeared along with Che Gueverra.

That's it. I'm leaving.

At least in Peru when you are tired of eating guinea pig and chicken feet and have serious munchies you can hunt down that big crunchy yellow bag with the red letters "L-A-Y-S" rip it open, and smell that instant puff of glory. (like when someone first lights a cigarette after it rains in the spring and you inhale even though you know it's killing you, but you love it, but then you hate it, I miss that)

You then disgustingly wolf down the entire bag, washing it all down ever so satisfyingly with a nice warm coke or a very peculiarly coloured Fanta.

You may look like a gringo on crack, but who cares?

Enter the Bolivian impostor Pringles, neatly packed and stacked with a texture like asphalt.

Pringles may seem like a buena idea at the time to satisfy, but they just don't cut it.

They. Don't. Cut. The. Mustard. (and don't get me started on Bolivian mustard)

Damn, tengo hambre ahora.

Zebras on the loose in Bolivia

Being a pedestrian in La Paz city can be a real hazard. Immediately you are hit with a wall of smog, and then you try to cross any street; it´s like a game of frogger. But fear no more as there are zebras here to the rescue. yeah that´s right, zebras. The furry striped mascots can be spotted throughout the cityscape at some of the busiest intersections, helping the herds of people cross the rivers of danger. There are many strange and interesting things to see here in the bustling city; a golden cowboy, a ragged lady with her tambourine, 5 year old boys dressed in traditional garb strumming on their tiny worn out, out-of-tune guitars, all hoping for some dinero to make it through another day. All of them make me smile and wonder, but it´s those cute traffic zebras that help us on our way in this crazy urban jungle.