Maggie's Farm

In my time in Bolivia, I never encountered that dangerous road. Sigh of relief.

I drove to work every day from a town in the Chaco flatlands of northern Argentina, near the Bolivian border, to a well several thousand (?) feet up in the foothills of the Andes. The dirt road was wide enough for two pickup trucks to pass each other. If one were a reckless driver, one could go off the side of the road and fall hundreds of feet, but when driven with prudence it was not dangerous.

I really liked it. I went to Santa Cruz for training. Our company's expats who were there for a year or more invariably married a Camba (nickname for those from Santa Cruz.) Some say they are the best-looking women in South America. Unfortunately, I was not there long enough.

When I worked in Argentina, a lot of my workmates were from Bolivia---just 30 miles from the border. I learned that many Bolivians view Argentines as racist, chauvinist folk. Which puts another perspective on Che Guevara's failed revo in Bolivia. Not many Bolivians are going to follow an Argentine's directions.

There is a Bolivian joke about a priest who ended each sermon by wishing the wrath of God on the Argentines. Word got to the local bishop, who told him to stop bad-mouthing the Argentines. The priest obeyed. Come Easter, the priest told the story of the Last Supper.

Jesus: "One of you will betray me."
Simon: "It is I , master."
Jesus:: No, it is not you, Simon."
Peter: "It is I , master."
Jesus:: No, it is not you, Peter."
This continues until Judas speaks.
Judas: "It is I , master."
Judas speaks in an unmistakably Argentine accent: "Che, maestro, soy zho(yo)."


Bolivian politics were then, as now, somewhat chaotic. When I was there, coup of the month. Haven't been any coups for decades. On his path to power---14 years as President---Evo Morales used road blocks to persuade others to do what he wanted. There was a video of Evo playing in a soccer match where he kneed an opponent in the groin. That's politics in Bolivia: anything goes.

When I worked in Argentina, I often spent my weeks off in Bolivia. One Saturday night in Sucre, I passed by an open door with a party going on inside. I got invited in. There were pinatas-- like Mexico. They kept urging me to drink some chicha--made from corn. Chicha is usually not alcoholic, but this time it was. "Toma." Drink. And I did.

I left at 10 PM, quite inebriated. I didn't wake up until 4 in the afternoon, 18 hours later. Altitude and alcohol do not mix. But there was no hangover. BTW, Germans founded the beer-producing companies in Bolivia, so the beer is VERY good.

Decades later, I worked for a year in TX with a Bolivian from Tarija. I called him Chapaco, which is the nickname for those from Tarija. He said that was the first time in the US that someone had called him a Chapaco. I worked in Argentina and Bolivia w a guy from Tarija, who went by Chapaco, not by his name of Manuel.