six months in la paz

Suruqchi

27. April 2023 yuqiKommentar hinterlassen

^{Do you know APTX4869? Aren’t they look exactly like those?}

Even though I tried to move as slowly as possible, the second I stepped out of that plane, I felt the decompression.

The first few seconds in that walkway from plane to terminal was like in a dark tunnel. On top of that, everything was not peachy while I had a 10kg backpack on my shoulders. It’s a mix of vertigo, short breath, and headache. It’s quite amazing how the body just catches up with that altitude difference by the second you arrive.

I had to sit down while the baggage was being transported to the terminal. After I got my bag. The long waiting for my taxi driver has begone.

If you arrive at El Alto International Airport at a reasonable time during the day. (Which means not the flight at 2 a.m. from Bogotá). It’s easy to get pretty much everything you need.

Tips: I changed 100 dollars’ worth of bolivianos (normally the changing rate is 1:6,95). All you need is to present your passport and dollar in (reasonably decent) cash.

I also got myself “Sorojchi Pills” from the pharmacy at the arrival terminal. Normally you won’t need more than nine pills, I got myself only six.

Tips: Always tell the pharmacist exactly how many pills you need, otherwise, you’ll get a whole bunch of them which is expensive and won’t be possible to be finished. Costs of those pills is 5 to 6 Bilivianos/capsule. (may verify from place to place)

My taxi driver wasn’t to be found anywhere. I wandered a bit around but finally surrendered to the height endued headache. Cause it’s 4000m above sea level. The light seemed so bright to my nordic retinas. Finally, my “Mujeres al Volante”-driver and I recognized each other pretty much at the same time. She said she was late because of the teacher’s protest in the city.

Tips: “Mujeres al Volante” is a taxi company in La Paz which is founded by mothers in La Paz. All their taxi drivers are women. If you are looking for extra reliable taxi as a solo traveler or at night. It’s a great service to profit.

El Alto used to be one of the districts of the city La Paz, until 1985. Long story short, due to the augmented population and craving for more financial autonomy, El Alto finally decoupled from La Paz. It’s a fascinating place here. On the high ground look down on the tight-packed and rugged La Paz. Every Thursday and Sunday, there’s the biggest market in the world, the market “16 de Julio”, which makes a great way to find nice deals but terrible days to drive through. And that was what I got into. 10 minutes after I got in the traffic, I’ve already decided to archive my brand-new applied international driving license for a long life and future endeavor.

Tips: If you don’t have lots of luggage, you can also take the minibusses, which costs 5 Bolivianos right to the city center (to Plaza Isabel la Católica). The minibus station is to be found on an “island” in front of the arrival terminal if you walk across the taxi waiting line. Those minibuses have „AEREOPUERTO“ printed on them.

I wasn’t capable to grasp the meaning of a “traffic jam” until I found myself in a taxi surrounded by cars and pedestrians from every different direction. Of course, there was no traffic light. Or at least there was no traffic light to be trusted. Constantly there are people knocking on your car, telling you either you’re blocking their way or simply telling you there’s somebody out there. Despite all that, I was deeply amused by the dynamics a city can give. It’s not like that in Northern Europe. Over there people are excited by the “stay silent”-sign in the library (if I may rephrase Jojo Mojes from time to time).

Te divertidas? She asked. Clearly, I couldn’t conceal any of my amusement in the backseats.

My driver “lectured” me about the meanings of different kinds of honks here. Apparently, if it honks loud and repeatedly, it means they want to pass. If it’s a one-time long honk, it means you better go quickly right now……

So, it is. A 30-min-drive was prolonged to almost two hours. I finally got into my Airbnb. The following three days, I was drugged with different kinds of painkillers, including those “Sorojchi pills”, ibuprofen, and rose root pills which my mom mailed me all the way from China to Germany. The second and third day in La Paz was the roughest. Every day I woke up with a headache and the way to the bathroom was tough sometimes. Because I live on a hill, simply walking back home was a test of my personal limit. Every time I climbed up to my apartment drives my heart rate to 170 bpm. And that one time when I got home with black spots in my view, I reached my best (worst) blood-oxygen level of 85%. Seriously thinking about training myself here in Altiplanos. Then one day I’ll be invincible back in the lowlands that I still call home.

Suruqchi is quechua for mal de montaña, aka. altitude sickness. The local people chew dried coca leaves or drink coca tea to ease the symptoms. I’ve never drugged myself before besides alcohol, sugar, and pornography. Friend F said she expected the coca tea would at least light her bit up. The result was rather disappointing. The magical little coca leaves neither made us forget our shameful past nor gave us more strength to face the future that we would trick ourselves into. After all, it does help with Suruqchi.

¡ Laphi ! – Der Bolivien Podcast EP.01: „Erste Eindrücke“

22. April 2023 yuqiKommentar hinterlassen

Laphi, allillanchu, hola und herzlich Willkommen zu unserer ersten Podcastfolge aus Bolivien! Was haben wir in unseren ersten Wochen in Bolivien erlebt? Wie ist die Arbeit als Freiwillige*r im Ausland? Und natürlich am wichtigsten: Wie oft und in welcher Intensität hatten wir in den ersten Wochen Durchfall oder Atemnot? Nicht nur über diese, sondern auch über viele weitere Fragen sprechen wir gemeinsam und nehmen euch so mit auf eine kleine Reise nach Bolivien. To be continued!

En route

19. April 2023 yuqiKommentar hinterlassen

I thought I’d have my last party in Hamburg, better enjoy it. It was Saturday night. I was one of the last people who arrived. It was L’s birthday. We haven’t seen each other for a long time. In the casual chit-chat, I told L’s friend that I’m going to fly to La Paz soon.

Soon?

Yeah, on Monday.

And that’s the cover of Schrödinger’s Cat. And there’s the cat, dead and reeking of despair.

There’s a strike on Monday at Hamburg Airport. You’re sure you can fly?

Not anymore.

That’s how you ruin a party and that’s the start of my long journey.

After hours of calling the customer’s service of Iberia and failed. I managed to put off my long-distance flight from Madrid to La Paz, and book a new connection from Hamburg via Amsterdam to Madrid with extra luggage, all during that whole 2-hour waiting line. I swear I can’t listen to that Iberia’s holding music anymore in my life.

The last days in Hamburg were intense. I was packing, emptying my apartment, meeting some friends last minute, and trying to accept the fact of the drastic life change (maybe it wasn’t as dramatic as I portray). My travel from Hamburg to La Paz was almost 40 hours. Just to be sure I wouldn’t get into a complete mass if one of my four flights were delayed and ruined everything. So I booked my journey with the extra time gap between each flight. Turned out that was an excellently wise choice.

Wednesday morning at 8 a.m. I got into the taxi. (It was the first time I book myself a taxi to the airport cause of course I’ve never had that much luggage and extra money.) The guy picked me up with a brand-new Tesla. Maybe it was the other side of this mega city I managed to neglect during all those years. When I arrived in Madrid, it was already Wednesday evening. My longest flight to Viru Viru Santa Cruz takes off shortly before midnight. In Madrid, I recheck-in my luggage and had my second meal at Burger King. Madrid was hot and noisy as always. By that time I already felt my sweaty feet glued onto my shoes but there were still 20 hours to go.

_{A short snow storm right before take off in Hamburg.}

My seat in Air Europa’s most proud Dreamline aircraft was by the window. When I got in, the two seats on the outer side were already occupied by a couple. They let me pass and suddenly I felt like a trapped monster being punished by my seat and life choice. Also mostly why I forgot my earphone in my bag on the luggage rack. It was the clingiest and most expressive make-out session I was forced to witness in my whole life (and probably everyone else in that plane). Each kiss echoed in the whole cabin, and it took so much time, from boarding to door-closing to take-off…… After take-off, I forcefully woke up the couple and changed to a nearby seat by the aisle, that made everything more endurable… I was grateful for my two Burger King meals during the day, so I could sleep peacefully with the melatonin pills and not enough food on that overrated Dreamline aircraft.

The arrival at Santa Cruz was sooner than I thought. Santa Cruz is located in the eastern part of Bolivia, down in the Amazonas. The second you stepped out of the plane, you feel immediately the warm, humid air eating into your body. I got two immigration forms in my hands, waiting in the long line which reached to the staircase. After some long waiting and mix-ups. I finally stood in front of the custom window. The customs officer seemed confused about why I was there and with that kind of visa. She got questions and tried to ask her collages for help. But no one was available at that moment. Finally, she got out her phone, surely her private phone, and took some photos of my passport and my visa pages. That’s a farewell to strict German data privacy. Then she let me pass. I was the last person of my flight who passed the custom. Some airport personnel was standing right there waiting for me with my luggage. I didn’t know that I must recheck-in my baggage in Santa Cruz, again. About one hour back and forth of security checks, check-in, and all. I changed myself into some short leaves that I prepared myself for the worst-case scenario if I lost everything except my backpack then I have to stay over somewhere waiting for the airline’s callback.

_{Viru Viru Airport, with locked up toilet paper.}

I was slightly panicking and didn’t know if I could use my credit card to buy food. I was starving and mentally lost. Fortunately, everything worked out and I got some left-over snacks from Europe and a new bottle of water. Sitting in the terminal waiting for my last plane gave me a weird impression as if I was in China. The terminal is built unnecessarily high, and the floor was shiningly cleaned. Two or three hours later, I finally boarded my last plane to La Paz. It felt strange not having really slept for 24 hours and right now was already a brand-new day.

It still appeals wired to me, how in Bolivia you get to be sprayed disinfectant on your hand by a person while you enter some public spaces. Like when I went to kindergarten in China, some teacher would spray a sweet drinkable disinfectant in my mouth everytime I got in. That happened when I entered that last plane. During that short flight, the landscape outside turned gradually from green, dense forest to empty mountain ridge. We landed at the world’s highest international airport about one hour later. 4060m above sea level.

I have a friend. He just fainted when he got off the flight in El Alto.

I recorded Friend D’s words before I stood up. I must take everything extremely slowly. So, I did, arriving at La Paz 36 hours later. Stepping out of the airplane. Did I faint?