On the road to Peru, I met a man...

So I guess I need to finish talking about Cochabamba. Man, I'm behind. So I didn't get to have any interviews, although I did meet a reporter for Los Tiempos who might be able to help me out with stuff. Things got a little sidetracked, because a girl I met who was supposed to help me with interviews stood me up, so I couldn't schedule anything that day, and then my friend Jason from Alaska showed up and I spent a couple days with him in Cocha. The girl I was supposed to meet up with (I emailed her on Couchsurfing; she claimed "expert" levels of English and Spanish) said she was all about it, but she was kind of strange: she brought me chocolates, and our first meeting was at night and we just hung out and had beers. It kind of felt like a blind date. Maybe she didn't realize how blindingly good looking, funny, smart, and humble I am. Anyways, she didn't show the next day or email or anything, and I couldn't get a hold of her. That night I went bowling with Korina and Dave and their friends (I think I came in 3rd out of 8 people. I bowled over 100 one game, which I consider a good game. I'm the kind of bowler who picks his ball based on color and thinks the bumpers are a fun addition). Afterwards we went to kareoke and had lots of tequila, which didn't sit well with me. I got sicker than I had in a long time (I thought I'd figured out moderation a long time ago, but I guess I still haven't figured out tequila shots...). Anyways, Jason showed up around 7am the next day, and I was still pretty sick. So we did the only thing to do, which was go eat greasy food. We spent the day with Korina and her friend Claudia, and that night went out to La Pimienta, one of the hippest clubs in town. There was a big line, but since we were with a model we got to cut to the front. It was funny though, because everyone was tapping Jason on the shoulder super hard, as if to say "OK gringo, this isn't how a line works, and stop pretending you're with the model." It was funny. We got inside and all got our picture taken by someone from the entertainment section of the local paper. So now somewhere there's some picture of a model and her cute friend with two grubby gringos.

The next day was my frantically trying to get my mail and pack and get to Oruro, which you already know about. So that was the end of my Cochabamba experience. But I'll probably be back through at some point: I need to go to Santa Cruz, which will take me through Cocha.

So now I'm in a little town in Peru called Desaguadero, almost literally a one-road town which my book describes as "an unscrupulous place, with poor restaurants and dubious accommodation. There is no need to stop in Desaguadero..." I don't know if I can add much in a positive way, except that bicycles are the main form of transport here, and there are really cool bicycle taxis with the seats up front of the driver, all brightly decorated with fluorescent vinyl and old CD's. But yes, the accommodation is dubious (although I've found I just assume that my room will be a small, windowless cave with dirty sheets and a lumpy pillow), and the choices of food seem to be fried chicken or fried pork (your choice! I'm having oranges and crackers for dinner), which especially sound good when you have a nasty cold like I do (somehow my nose is totally stuffed AND running like a river, which I didn't think was possible - but I guess this is the natural result of sharing beer with 100 other people in Carnival). Carnival is still raging here, with old couples dancing in May Day circles to outdoor bands and vicious foam fights the likes of which I never saw in Oruro or La Paz. Fortunately I haven't been hit, because I'm sick and partied out and I think it would just piss me off to get stinging foam in my eyes. So far the only people I've talked to are the people who run my hostel, some older teenagers who I saw make a "reeling in" motion with their hands and then they tried to yell at me in English, and a drunk guy who said "amigo, rahl blackdavoch spungingio." OK, all I understood was "amigo," but I think it's his diet of beer more than my Spanish. Usually I can at least pick out the root words and stuff, it just takes me a long time to process and understand what exactly is being said. Pretty much all I understood here was that it was something derogatory.

It was kind of hard to get here: first I couldn't find the bus stop because there are no buses: just micros and share taxis lined up on the street. At first I went to the main terminal, where there was only one company selling tickets to Peru (my old favorite Ormeno), and I had to go all the way to Puno. Not only had I never heard a positive thing about Puno, but it was a $28 ticket (my book said buses to Desaguadero would be $1.25, which ended up being pretty close), and it would mean like 4 extra hours on the bus. So I wandered around the cemetery district (probably the best place in town to wander) until I found what I was looking for.

But when I got to Desaguadero, I was still in Bolivia. I told my driver I was trying to go to Peru, and a bunch of people were like "where? Puno? I can get you to Puno," And I'm saying "no, I thought was trying to go to Desaguadero." Turns out the town straddles both sides of the border. So I got a bike taxi to migracion, and when we got through he explained where the buses to Puno were. I think maybe I'm the first gringo to actually stay in this town, that isn't just trying to get to smelly Puno. I'm definitely the only one here.

So at any rate, I'm heading back to La Paz tomorrow, where I'm going to try and meet some of the people who have expressed interest in helping me out on my project and score some sweet interviews. Salud!