May 8, 2017 - Morning in Cochabamba

At 7:15, the city was just waking up.  A few people were walking to work, bundled up on this chilly morning.  There were a few cars on the road, but not many yet.  The pigeons seemed sleepy on this cold morning, but the parakeets were noisy.

I sat for a bit at the Plaza Colon looking at my map, trying to get my bearings.  I have the Plaza Colon and Plaza 14 de Septiembre in my head, but I could still get lost.  I saw on the map a fountain on San Martin, a few blocks from the Plaza 14 de Septiembre, so I headed that direction.  I was disappointed.  I saw that fountain the day before.  It is modern, but in shabby disrepair. 

I heard accordion music, so I followed my ears to a blind man sitting on a stoop playing a tune that made me think of Paris.  I gave him a coin and journeyed on to the Plaza.  Soon I was sitting in front of a fountain, drinking a grapefruit juice and eating crackers, while feeding pigeons.  The fountain made me think of something I would see in Italy.

“Am I in Europe or Bolivia?”

Those afraid of coming to a third world country don’t know what they are missing.  There are places as beautiful as what you can experience in France, Spain, or Italy, and there are places that are so Bolivian that I can’t describe them well enough.

I don’t often have a plan when visiting places like this.  I set out to explore and get the feel of the city.  Sitting in the plaza, watching children chase the pigeons, the clothes people wear, the way people carry themselves, the air I breath (not a lot at 9,000 feet), I begin to feel what it might be like to live here.  That is what I enjoy most.  Those are the moments that stick with me.

I recently read an article that a vacation is more meaningful than a Christmas gift.  Even if it is something simple.  I have never forgotten when Mom took us to a cabin on a lake for a week, or the time in Galveston we fought off the hurricane, or when Dad took us to Arkansas and Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies pulled her shotgun on us.  What did I get for Christmas those years?  I can’t remember.  I could buy a few nice things to make my stay in Bolivia easier, but I will never forget Cochabamba.

A block from the Plaza was an archaeological museum.  It had a big main room, with half a dozen side rooms, that tell the history of Bolivia before the coming of the Spanish.  Several hundred artifacts later, I have just a glimpse into the fabulous Andean culture.  They have several skulls displaying Andean techniques in brain surgery.  Imagine that.  Several more show how priests and some wealthy Incans had their skulls modified.  The beauty and diversity leaves me in amazement.  How might it have been different if the Andes were discovered by missionaries rather than conquerors?

My morning ended watching green soldiers battle the Power Rangers.  For those of you who wondered where they went.  Yes, they are now rescuing Cochabamba, Bolivia from green soldiers.