11.04.08 A weekend away

This weekend we went on a trip to Sorata to stay at somewhere promisingly describing itself as an oasis. Not having a choice we opted for public transport. Rather less promisingly, our bus left from the cemetery district, where we piled on to the rickerty old machine with an old man who had a real live chicken in a bag. You know you´ve left London, when you share public transport with people transporting poultry. Our seats were on the back row, I was between Susi and a very small, jibbering, old lady. Hungry for a snack, she tucked into warm chicken skin out of a plastic bag, and didn´t share! Space was tight, a stranger´s young son sat tight between her legs on the floor, between his legs sat his baby brother. The old lady was so short that even in her bowler hat she barely made it up to my shoulder, and this was sitting down. She may not have been the perfect travel companion but at least she didn´t obscure the window. The view was fantastic: we went through the Alto Plano, past Lake Titicaca (so maybe it does exist) and into the hills, where snow was struggling to settle. Things then became increasingly verdant, as we descended curling through the valleys. Our Bolivian companions crossed themselves anxiously as the tarmac disappeared to reveal the dark clay carved into the mountainside. A little while later, fields of maize lined the road and we were in a hot, fertile, tropical valley. Had we really just seen snow?