Do Re Mi

Hotel Milton is like my grandmother's old house, only stuck more in the 70s, rather than the mix of generations hers had become. Mirrors, vinyl sofas, tvs with control knobs that you actually have to get up and turn--total number of channels, 13. The parquet flooring is set on a diagonal...groovy! So at first I wasn't sure I wanted to stay there but I'm so glad I did. I met two quirky, fun Americans. I know! Who knew there were more of us in South America?!? Alter´Nathan (haven't asked about the name yet...just go with it, people) and Carlos. Talk about good people. One lives in San Fran, the other in LA, but for the past 4 months in Cochabamba, Bolivia. In two days time, we'd covered everything from personal histories, marriage and children to Celine Dion hatred, the correct consistency for falafel and KARAOKE!! Yes, we sang karaoke last night. Haven't sung for months now, aside from the shower, and I was nervous...and rusty. Nathan rocked out to Elvis' Teddy Bear, getting some scary looks from a certain Bolivian a few sofas away. We sang until about 2 am. Carlos kicked on to other clubs but Nathan & I ducked out early. I planned on traveling today.

And my travel plans were almost foiled. Almost. I woke up at 10 of 7 and, at the elevator, literally ran into the gentleman whom I had asked for a 6 am wake-up call. Not so good. My bus was slated for a 7 am departure. LATE. They say that how you react to crises and difficult situations proves who you are as a person. In that case, this morning makes me a pushy, bad-breathed, pain in the ass. Panicked but not afraid to give an order, I had the owner of the hotel on the phone with the bus company, the worker who forgot my wake-up call hailing a cab, and me, well, I was just supervising. Who do I think I am? But get this...the bus company actually waited for me! I guess being on South American time does have its advantages from time to time. I was bummed though. I really wanted to get some shots of the hotel! One wall has a photo mural of a mountain sunset with a meadow of flowers. Believe it!

The border crossing out of Bolivia is a mess. Tons of mack trucks, nothing but dust, no signs. And you drive 20 minutes after getting the Bolivian exit stamp to the Chiléan border. Confused, I followed the crowd & ended up at the Bolivian documents building down the hill. You're just supposed to get the stamp and wait for the bus. Organized, official, formal, complete with drug dogs, the Chiléan border is all about business. There are very specific about the goods you can transport across the border. No honey, animals--including pets, no seeds, fruits, meats. I was sure my peanut butter was going to get confiscated but no. All the bags pass through a scanner and get sniffed by the dogs. It almost felt like Laguardia. And everyone who worked in the office was taller than me. Hmm. Interesting.

So I made it to Arica, Chilé this afternoon. The fifth, but hopefully not the last, country in this crazy adventure. Can't wait to see what's in store. The hotel owner of Jardin del Sol is charming. He explained the whole town to me, including activities, in a matter of minutes. My cabdriver from the terminal recommended I stay at another hotel...but then again, he gets a commission on anyone he brings in. Hold your horses, bud. If you're not paying attention, or don't speak decent Spanish, you can find yourself in the middle of who knows where Chilé, which all things considered doesn't look to be bad at all...

Oh, and I forgot to mention Poggibonsi!! Tony, don't know if you ever look at this, but if you do, you have to remind me to tell you the latest in the Poggibonsi saga!