Us Twenty-somethings

Since 6th grade I’ve wanted to go to Machu Picchu. Peru was my country in world geography class and I neatly decorated a piece of cardboard with an outline of the country, flag, and other probably poorly researched “facts”. I even tried to make some Peruvian potato dish for my classmates (Peru has some 5000 species of potato). But it just turned out to be cold Idaho mashed potatoes mushed into balls then flattened out.

Well, who knew, but dreams do come true I suppose. I finally made it to Machu Pichhu this month – some 12 years later. A fifty-mile trek over five days doesn’t sound like much, but it was truly my undoing. By the time we made it to the famous Incan citadel, it was all I could do to follow my tour group and not make a run for the Bolivian border. In fact, we more or less tried that. That very day we took a train, two buses and a taxi trying to get back to La Paz. But Bolivia in all her glorious passion slowed us down with a random, yet typical, political blockade at the border, rerouting us to a “ferry” across Lake Titicaca – “womb of the world”.


A few days later when trying to leave for Chile, we were delayed indefinitely by yet another political blockade in nearby El Alto demanding 1000 new classrooms be built in the city.

After deciding against Chile all together (mainly due to the inconvenience caused by the blockade) I got sick (again), and after making a Gatorade run to the American-style supermarket, could hardly get home because the taxi couldn’t get up my street. This time, it wasn’t a blockade, but a political march. A political march BLOCKING the street…

I don’t know if I’m a typical twenty-something, but I swear Bolivia is. After all she only has 25 years of democracy under her belt. She’s all over the place – a complete disaster, put she does it with gusto. I’ve met a diverse variety of ethnicities and social classes in the country, and I’ve yet to encounter someone who doesn’t have something to say about the national political situation…she’s passionate I tell you. But the thing is, she’s passionate about EVERYTHING. Taxes, property rights, justice for a government massacre, nationalization of natural resources, these things are worthy of a march, but I’ve seen people protest on the minibus because the driver didn’t take the route they wanted. I swear they organized right in the Toyota Van and started chanting.

And its not just politics either; I’ve been to two town festivals, and when Bolivia drinks, she drinks to get drunk. Or maybe “to get drunk, fight and then pass-out,” as my articulate housemate put it. Usually the festivals follow Catholic tradition to honor the town Virgin, but nonetheless, come Sunday morning there is a carpet of people passed-out in their dance costumes across the town plaza.

Her enthusiasm extends to romance as well. First one notes how passionate lovers are, how romantic their declarations, and how public their affections. But going a bit deeper you hear the comments about widespread infidelity. For example I heard someone say she was looking for a boyfriend, but then clarified in complete seriousness, she wanted one without another girlfriend…

It’s all very ardent and I can’t help but think of the many twenty-somethings I know who are incredibly smart, incredibly passionate and incredibly lacking direction, just like my Bolivia.

So no wonder I missed Bolivia while I was gone. She’s become a dear friend, to whom I can relate. Machu Picchu may be the eighth wonder of the world, but I’d take Bolivia’s blockades any day.