Cochabamba - City of Eternal Spring

How could a city with a slogan like that be bad? Well, it's a little hotter here than the spring I'm used to in Alaska, but the climate is nice. It's probably 85 during the day, and just warm enough at night to go out without a jacket. Cochabamba reminds me a little of Arequipa - it has a large, arcaded central plaza, and some of the buildings have interior courtyards. There's lots of international boutiques, like Guess, Benetton and L'oreal. There's even a whole strip of antique shops (if anyone wants a turn-of-the-century Pullman typewriter), so somebody around here has some money. It feels like the demarcation between the wealthy urban population and the poor, migrant campesino population is more distinct here, as well: all the beggars are indians (a point of PC: the aboriginal population here uses the word "indian" to describe itself) in traditional clothing, while the city-dwellers look much more European.

This is the first Bolivian city I've seen with dumpsters: the usual procedure is to pile huge mounds of trash next to the tiny municipal trash cans on street corners the night before you know the city comes by to empty those. And I saw a sex toy shop, too, that even advertised gay toys, which was surprising in a place that seems like it holds onto a lot of its traditional values.

There's a variety of food here, too; I had some good Mexican food last night, Hare Krishna for lunch, and there's a well-decorated Italian place that is supposed to be good. And the bars are actual bars, like with some thought put into the decorum and individual atmosphere, as opposed to the places in La Paz which are mostly places to get drunk. At least the fluorescant lighting in those places is bright enough so if you're totally wasted, you can still get mug to mouth.

But one of the things that really bothers me about Bolivia, namely that the attitude of the people towards me ranges from indifferent to hostile, seems to exist here as well. I was looking at hostal rooms today, and I went into this place where the guy was totally put out that I wanted to see a room (this is not a unique experience). At first he pretended that he didn't understand what I was saying, so I had to ask a couple times a couple ways, and then he let out this big sigh and was said "alright, let's go." Then he got really upset and gave this lengthy explanation about why I can't sit on the bed (to test the softness). I mean, this is a guy who sits around all day doing almost nothing - I would think he would enjoy the break in monotony of a customer, but I guess not.

Also, I was crossing a street today, when I had a green light, and after I had started across a car approached the intersection behind me and wanted to turn right. Well, I was already in the intersection, so he had to stop while I passed through, but that didn't stop him from honking the horn at me for a good 10 seconds. I turned around and pointed at the green light, and he just shook his head like I was some sort of idiot. In fact, Bolvians generally are the least-patient drivers I have ever seen. I mean, they use their horns a lot in Calcutta, but it's to signal other drivers, or is otherwise for reasons I never recognised. But here, horn use is always used to signal impatience. Like today, when a bus stopped to load a passenger, stopping traffic behind it, every car layed on its horn as it had to stop, and didn't let up until traffic started moving again. Talk about road-rage! Basically, the horn is used for the entire duration of any inconvenience while driving.


But I need to back up a little, to pre-Cochabamba. First of all, Mike came back - again. This time though, just to accost the guy who works at the hostal I was staying at and get his camera back. I guess he came by and pretended to have money, and then snached the camera from the guy who worked at the hostal and ran off. Ironically, I'd seen Mike earlier that day, who said to me "what happened to the 100 bolivianos, man?" like I'd really screwed him or something. Then he said "well, how about you just give me another 50 and you can keep the camera." I laughed and said I didn't want the camera, and I'd paid 100 for it already, which is more than it's worth. Then he said "look, man, I lied to you. I just got out of prison, and I'm on the street right now." Mike, you're not helping your case by telling me you lied and that you're an ex-convict. "What do you want for the camera, man? I've got like four grams of coke on me, or some weed." No, Mike, I don't want to have something that could land me in prison in Bolivia of all places, just so I can go get high in my room by myself. Or even better, maybe with you! Yeah, that sounds like a blast. "Well, I'm gonna be selling this stuff up in the plaza, and I'll be at Oliver's Travels tonight, so I'll see you there." Sure you will, Mike. Sure you will.

Anyways, I guess the irony was that I knew where he would probably be that night, so I wanted to take the cops there so they could catch him with drugs. At least that way he couldn't hustle anyone else. But then the woman who runs my hostal explained to me that it would probably take $20 or $30 to get the cops to do anything. Man, that frustrated me, but imagine living your whole life like that - needing what to us is like $200 or $300 just to get the cops off their duffs! I guess there's something to be said for cops who are ideologically motivated.

So I left La Paz for Cochabamba, minus the money and the camera. The bus to Cochabamba was about 8 hours long, and there was no shortage of characters. First there was this guy who was trying to sell gold chains. Who buys gold chain on a bus? Then there was this guy who got up and talked for a while. I didn't get it all, at first he was talking about how long he's lived in Bolivia, and I figured he was going to ask for money. But then he kept talking, and I heard "... in the year 2018..." and a bunch of references to Christ and God and the Bible (which is the same word in Spanish, but with Spanish pronunciation: "Bib-lee"), and then he dropped the bomb: in the year 2018, the anti-Christ will appear on earth, and plant microchips in our hands, which will control our thoughts, and then he'll want to put 666 on our foreheads, making us the Devil's slaves. And something about raising capital for the anti-Christ, and belief in other gods, but of course there is no god but God, and bla bla bla... I didn't really hear his call to action, maybe he just wanted to make sure we were all on the lookout for people trying to put microchips in our hands. But he was standing in the middle of the bus, right next to my row, and I was trying really hard not to laugh. I mean where does this story come from?! I've heard it before, with various twists to the details (I think the year used to be 2000, before that year came and aboslutely nothing happened).

So yeah, now I'm in Cochabamba, and maybe I'll meet some film school students. A friend of mine is also supposed to introduce me to a teacher at the film school who might be able to help me get interviews with governmental officials, but I'm waiting to hear from her. I didn't know I was going to come here until the day before I actually did, so I wasn't able to give much warning.