(no subject)
the altitude is catching up to me. I thought I was fine the first day, when I was up and walking around, but 14,000 feet hurts. I think it was the hike yesterday around Lake Titicaca that did it, and I also had a very scary experience last night on a bus coming back. We were coming down the mountains into the valley of La Paz, getting thrown around because of the rough condition of the god-forsaken roads, and it was dark and nobody spoke english but apparently there was a road blockade and they told us all to get off the bus and right before I was about to step off it started rolling over the rocks again and threw me off my feet. I don´t think I´ve ever felt so sick from a mode of transportation. I pretty much barricaded myself in my room until five o´clock today. But not to be melodramatic or anything.
anyway, the lake was awe-inspiring, I still don´t know exactly where I am (much of me believes I am either in Guatemala or New Zealand). It´s a depressing country any way you look at it. It´s cold and gray and arid and the human suffering is palpable. As much as I would hate to be singing praises to Jeff Sachs, it is hard not to blame geography when taking a glance around. The whole country must be off-limits to the handicapped. My toes are freezing right now, and it´s summer and I´m in layers.
I had dinner the other night with my fixers, plus the confident New Yorker expat and sometimes-photojournalist for the Times who gave me all my names in the first place. He´s cocky, but in the I-partied-in-Tarija-for-new-years way, not the Times-y journalist way. I´m sure if Bolivia had anything that resembled a coastline he would be a surfer. It made me wish for a split second that I was doing my project on the secret lives of expats. I don´t know how they are the way they are. It kind of reminds me of the kids at Tufts from international school. "Do you this person in Egypt?" "Oh yeah, I think I met him that time I was in Kuala Lumpur." Do you just have to be chatty? You definitely have to be a photographer.
anyway, the lake was awe-inspiring, I still don´t know exactly where I am (much of me believes I am either in Guatemala or New Zealand). It´s a depressing country any way you look at it. It´s cold and gray and arid and the human suffering is palpable. As much as I would hate to be singing praises to Jeff Sachs, it is hard not to blame geography when taking a glance around. The whole country must be off-limits to the handicapped. My toes are freezing right now, and it´s summer and I´m in layers.
I had dinner the other night with my fixers, plus the confident New Yorker expat and sometimes-photojournalist for the Times who gave me all my names in the first place. He´s cocky, but in the I-partied-in-Tarija-for-new-years way, not the Times-y journalist way. I´m sure if Bolivia had anything that resembled a coastline he would be a surfer. It made me wish for a split second that I was doing my project on the secret lives of expats. I don´t know how they are the way they are. It kind of reminds me of the kids at Tufts from international school. "Do you this person in Egypt?" "Oh yeah, I think I met him that time I was in Kuala Lumpur." Do you just have to be chatty? You definitely have to be a photographer.