From Uyuni to Lima.

The thing about these multi-day tours is that they are a whirlwind. And when you wake up in your bed or in the final hotel room, more comfortable than you’ve been for the past three days, with the best nights sleep you’ve had in over a month, it feels like a dream.

This morning I was awoken at 6:30 when the garbage trucks drove by playing their tune. Shortly thereafter I heard a small band practicing nearby. Their stint was short-lived however. After one song I didn’t hear them again.

I took breakfast downstairs—pancakes, scrambled eggs, peach juice—and then took a few minutes to walk around town. I walked to the main market, a few blocks taken over by temporary structures covered in blue tarps. It was early yet but some vendors looked like they had been set up for hours.

Back at the hotel I finished packing and sorting my things. By 8:55 I was downstairs waiting for the taxi.

Oscar drove up. I recognized him immediately. He said he had picked me up from the airport and I told him I remembered. He asked how I was. Great! I said, truthfully. He asked how I liked the tour and I said I liked it very much indeed, not quite knowing how to say I loved it en Español.

It was less than ten minutes to the airport, and I felt surprisingly overcome with sadness to be leaving Uyuni. I had spent such little time in the town itself and yet it had somehow left an impression. Often the feeling seems accompanied by the realization that my trip is over and that I am headed home. And yet I feel now I am permanently on a trip, and each departure signals another new arrival.

On the flight from Uyuni to Cochabamba I thought forward to next year and to the places I plan to be. As I thought of Carla and of Africa my mind wandered to Rwanda. Looking out the window I saw a gorilla’s face made from the shadows of a mountain and then the plane rose, obscuring my view as we climbed into the mist.

The layover in Cochabamba was short. I picked up a bottle of water and crackers at the lounge and then it was almost time to board.

A man was sitting in my window seat but I let him and took the aisle. I had uncharacteristically chosen window seats for my four flights. This one happened not to have a window at all. Perhaps that’s why it was available when I checked in.

In La Paz I had to wait for international security and immigration to open. Originally the travel company was concerned with how tightly I had scheduled my flights as delays occur, but the connection went smoothly and I was out and back in through domestic security in the time it took for me to walk the distance.

At the initial security checkpoint I stood behind a man sending his family off. I love seeing people see their family and loved ones at the airport (even more so welcome them). It makes me sad but also fills my heart knowing they spent time together or will be reunited soon and that the members accompanied them right up to the last minute before they have to part at security.

I remember being able to meet people at the gates and there are still those rare occasions where I am flying somewhere at the same time someone else is and the times are just right to allow me to walk to their gate and await their arrival and hug them as they are just getting off the plane.

I was the second person through security and the only person in the Priority Pass lounge. As I got up to refill my plate I saw that when the attendant had gone. I settled in to wait out the time until boarding.

While listening to J Balvin and Bad Bunny I heard my name called. I was suddenly worried that I had misread my 16:00 (4:00pm) flight and that it was actually at 14:00 and I was delaying my flight. I panicked and gathered my bags to run to the gate. Outside the waiting area had filled. No one was moving. They just wanted to check my passport and onward flight from Lima.

I walked back to the Priority Pass lounge. I was once again the only inhabitant. The attendant had not returned.

While waiting for my flight I heard my name called once again. It turned out the airport in Santa Cruz had closed due to a political situation and I was to stand by and await further instructions. I shouldn’t have said anything about things being smooth before.

I looked at flights on Expedia but the only flights available for the next few days flew through Santa Cruz. I looked up bus tickets. The was a 27 hour bus from La Paz to Lima leaving every day at 07:00. The next available was Friday. I booked it as insurance.

There was no word of any updates and so I tried looking at the LATAM site. The new flight left in the evening transferring through Santa Cruz. Flights on Thursday were over 1400 and also transferred through Santa Cruz. Friday there was a direct flight at 0425 for 300$. I booked it.

I went back to the lounge to debate my next move. As I started to look for hotels in the area I heard someone testing the mic. Then another voice. And then an announcement for passengers to Lima. It was an hour after our originally scheduled flight.

They checked our passports and tickets and directed us to a waiting plane. I hoped it was flying direct to Lima. They told us to take any remaining seats. I filed into one and watched as we were all accommodated. And then we waited.

Turns out I was headed back to Cochabamba. This time I had a window seat.

We landed at 1800. The views from the window were beautiful. I gazed out at the mountains, and the weather they kept back from the plains. At one point I could see the clouds reaching over the peaks in an effort to water the earth.

At Cochabamba it was a mess. I had met a woman in line in La Paz who was also trying to get to Lima and was worried I had missed an instruction or that she was as lost as I.

I wasn’t sure where to go and went to the BOA desk. They told me they were looking to commission a direct flight for all the passengers affected. I met people who were coming from all over Bolivia who had been sent to Cochambamba. I felt better being amongst Spanish speakers who would know the drill. We stood in an unmoving line waiting for news.

While waiting for news I met a woman on her way to Buenos Aires who managed to get her ticket updated. She was now flying direct. She said that the mayor of Santa Cruz had been kidnapped which was the root cause of the turmoil. A news crew shot the line of people waiting in line to update their flights. Still i wondered where the Korean post-graduate was.

Suddenly there was an announcement and an attendant was taking people headed to Lima. Reissuing a ticket was a long affair involving a cell phone call and a lot of computer entry but at the end of the process I had a ticket in hand. A Brazilian woman ahead of me was not so fortunate. A document was requested that she didn’t have and she was sent away to obtain it.

It was hot and I offered to fan the attendant with a laminated sheet she held in her hand. She laughed and thanked me but said it wasn’t necessary. The ticket said the departure time was 18:30. The boarding time was 19:30. It was already 18:30.

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Past security another group of people in uniform searched out bags thoroughly for drugs. I chatted with the inspector in my toddler Spanish and said that I wished to be able to speak in a year. He offered me words of encouragement.

In the waiting room all of the TVs were set to the news and announcers blared from the speakers about the news. The mayor had not been kidnapped. It was the governor, and whether he was kidnapped depending on your point of view. He was reportedly being flown to La Paz.

Apparently the arrest was due to his leading weeks of protest about the delayed census that was predicted to grant Santa Cruz more tax revenue and seats in congress due to its rapid population growth.

I had heard tell of the census and the delay. When I asked Ronald about the population of Uyuni and of Bolivia at large he quoted a number but said it should actually be much higher. He mentioned the census had been delayed as well as the fact that it would most likely benefit Santa Cruz. He said that there was some anger around it but I hadn’t realized just how much.

The waiting room filled and I still hasn’t seen the Korean grad student. I hoped she had managed a seat on the posted 18:30 flight. Seeing the number of people waiting it was clear that it wouldn’t have been able to support everyone.

At 20:10 we were called to board. The seating seemed odd as I was placed next to a woman and her young child when there seemed to be many seats opened. But 20:30 came and went and I started to wonder if we were waiting for even more passengers that had been stranded and were en route to catch our flight.

When we finally took off I settled in for a nap. I had texted Oscar updates and I was happy to see him at the airport in Lima. We drove through the night, following a route I had come to know well, turning towards the ocean and driving along it before climbing back up the cliffs to Miraflores.

Back home, I unpacked and readied for bed, but not before heading up to the roof to take in the view. 🇧🇴