The Girl needed to go out first things this morning. So, I stuck my Panasonic in the pocket of my hoodie and stepped outside. The morning light was just filtering through some thin clouds, but was still interesting. They men working were not paying any attention to me. So, I captured a few nice shots.
I love to visit this place, where we dispersed Wife’s ashes. It is across the county road from my old place, where I moved when I was 15-years old, finished high school, helped dad with the farm, and where Wife, I, and our two older children lived while I was working on my master’s degree.
I still believe this is a happy place for Wife’s ashes. It is a place that is meaningful to her, her family, and to me. That makes it right, at least to my mind.
It was a long day. I started about 0600 with a two-mile run. The Girl and I both needed the exercise. Mom and Dad had breakfast cooking when we returned, so after a quick shower I ate my breakfast and the Girl ate hers. Then we loaded up what little we had unpacked, said our goodbyes, and headed out.
I stopped at the family farm to pay my respects to the place we dispersed Wife’s ashes. Her family keeps a small cross posted there and they renew the flowers now and again. I will post an image of that site in the morning.
Then we had a look at my old home place. The house is looking a little sad. It needs attention. But, it’s no longer my gig and so that responsibility will fall to someone else.
We drove through St. James and I had a look at the place where I went to high school. There’s not much there for me anymore, but it remains a part of my history and so I acknowledge it. Then we headed north on State Highway 68.
I made a wrong turn in Jefferson City and found myself northbound on U.S. 54. So, we took some of the State Roads over to U.S. 63 and got back on track.
I stopped a few times along the way. Mostly I wanted to stretch and keep my blood moving. But the Girl also needs a break from the rig. Sometimes there was something to photograph; sometimes not. But the landscape above captured my attention, so we spent a few minutes walking around looking for the right angle to capture the light.
Then we were back on the road.
Happy Friday… ¡Feliz viernes y la fin de semana! Yesterday, while driving south on I-81, I stopped for fuel near Hagerstown, Maryland. I really wanted some coffee and a break from the bleak, gray driving. So, seeing this Waffle House across the street from the fuel depot, I decided to take a little longer break.
The Girl and I pulled into the parking area, walked through the rain, and found a booth inside. The Girl was cold and shaking, so I threw my sweatshirt (works for both of us) over her, ordered coffee, a waffle, and a couple of eggs.
“May I pet your dog?” the server asked.
“Please don’t; she’s working.”
“I thought I’d better ask. I love dogs but I know she’s a working dog.”
“Thank you. Only about half of people who want to approach ask, even when she’s in-vest.”
I’m continually surprised that people think they can walk up to any dog, with or without its handler, and pet it. That’s true whether the animal is a service dog or a pet. I generally just shake my head. I’m also a lot less reluctant to put my hand between the person and my dog (gently if the person is a child) and say “stop!”
While enjoying my coffee, I looked through my road atlas at potential routes through West Virginia to Missouri. There are not many options east-to-west. So, I decided to stay with the Interstate Highways for the next bit.
I enjoyed my eggs and waffle (probably a little too much) and the interaction with the server, who brought a piece of bacon for the Girl. What a wonderful, thoughtful gift.
After I paid my bill, I took the bacon with me to the rig. I got Ki’s food from the back, broke up the bit of bacon, and prepared her a treat. She usually doesn’t eat as well when we’re traveling, especially at first, but with the addition of a little special sauce she got after it.
The afternoon drive was wet, nasty, and difficult. The heavy spray from the trucks made visibility a challenge. I stopped in Elkview, WV for the night, at a La Quinta, and after off-loading my necessaries for the evening I realized just how tired I was. Nonetheless, the Girl and I took off for a nice walk, even in the rain.
On our second spin around the large parking lot, we stopped at La Carreta, a local Mexican restaurant. I then realized it was Cinco de Mayo, which must have been the source of my craving for enchiladas. The well margaritas were a buck apiece, and were good enough, if less than excellent. The Enchiladas de Marias were really quite good. I’m pleased I decided to celebrate Cinco.
The sun is up this morning and I can see daylight on the woods. This will be a better day, even with travel on the Interstate Highway System.
While in Bolivia, I heard it said “Bolivia is the most democratic country in the world.” The meaning was there is always somebody protesting something.
Our first day in Santa Cruz we walked the plaza, wandering through the booths and crowds. It was a fascinating experience, to be among all that liveliness. I made a number of captures that afternoon, some just snapshots; others more like street photography. My intent was to capture my impression of my first few hours in a new country.
Not long after I arrived in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, we walked from Los Tajibos a block or two to the Farmacias to buy bottled water and any other necessaries. I learned quickly to watch traffic because traffic rules in Bolivia are only suggestions. There is no telling what might happen in traffic.
This capture came from a group I thought I lost. It was made with my Panasonic compact camera. The images were staged on my MacBook Pro in (or course) a place where I would not lose them. The problem was, I lost them. But I found them Friday while cleaning up some files on my notebook computer and sorting images on my external drives.
This is good because some of my street captures were made with the Panasonic, which is a better camera than my iPhone 6S (although the latter is very good for what it is). Now I can share some street photography on my weblog.
One evening while I was in Tarija, Bolivia, I had a chance to step out of my hotel and walk across the plaza. It was a bustling place, full of life and energy. I’m told that the plaza is where everything happens at night in Tarija. People go to the plaza to talk about the news, visit, and play.
I want to go again.
Tuesday morning we rose early for breakfast at Los Tajibos, which was good as always. We checked out of the resort and were then shepherded to the Sociedad de Ingenieros. The taxi driver got lost on the way there, which amused me, but I knew the event would not begin until we arrived (we were the stars, after all). In addition, it is not unusual for things to begin late in Bolivia. It is what it is.
There were about 200 students in the group. I missed her title, but a university official (dean or president) made our introduction and then left. We made short presentations and then took questions from the students.
This was great fun and I enjoyed the interaction immensely. But the treat, for me, came after the formal time. The students were released to interact or leave and there were empanadas! I love empanadas, especially those in Bolivia. This morning we were provided empanadas de queso and they were tasty, with a pastry-like shell filled with a sweet cheese.
We were asked for photographs. To me it seemed like the girls were about 80-percent and the boys about 20-percent of requests. It was fun to watch them all smile, giggle, and pose.
I stood around with a group of a dozen young men who obviously knew each other well. They were laughing and teasing each other and we communicated with their broken English and my bit of Spanish. They asked if I like football (soccer).
I said “Of course.”
“Which is your favorite team?”
“I don’t have one, really, but I do enjoy watching the game.”
I asked for a bottle of water and one of them rushed off to find one. He returned with a two-liter bottle and poured some into a glass for me. I was thankful. One of the young men started to get some water from the bottle and another said “No!”
“Why not?” I asked.
“He is black.”
“He’s not black!”
“Yes, he is.”
“Well, that’s not black like where I come from.”
“He is darker than the rest of us.”
“I am that dark when I’m in the sun, although I am more red than he is.”
We all laughed and it was clear they were not prejudiced in any way, but were just teasing him like all young men give each other a hard time.
Lunch was fun and took our time. It was interesting to visit with the three Bolivians and I enjoyed the interchange greatly. But the time came to leave and they drove me to the aeropuerto to check in and catch my flight.
I was a little trepidated by my lack of language, but Andres volunteered to see me to the security checkpoint so he could interpret if needed. I checked my bag, and walked up to the checkpoint entry. I said my goodbyes to Tomás and Monica. Andres accompanied me to the checkpoint. They were thorough, but friendly and I didn’t need an interpreter. I bid Andres goodbye and entered the secure zone.
I wandered around a bit while waiting. They sell meat in the airport. Yes, there was a meat market in the airport. My flight was a little delayed, but not much. There was plenty of traffic at Viru Viru.
The Tarija Aeropuerto was the first time in a long time I walked down the stairs from an aircraft and across the pavement. It was fun and it was fun to see the observation deck above the terminal. It would be possible to go watch flights arrive and depart from Tarija.
David, Rosemarie, and Enrique were there to meet me. It was good to meet Rosemarie (David’s wife) and Enrique. We loaded my gear into the car and headed into town.
On the leg from La Paz to Santa Cruz, I was too pumped to sleep any more. I spent too much time looking out la ventana, amazed by what I saw. What an experience it was to see Bolivia as my first (real) time out of country — to be looking at the foothills of the Andes Mountains. It was difficult to believe I was actually there, actually looking at Bolivia, and that in a few minutes I would land at Viru Viru in Santa Cruz.
I was tired from riding in airplanes all night. I was tired of sitting in cramped seats. But I was so excited by what I saw it didn’t matter that my ass complained the last hours on the trip. It was worth it.
Although we flew over Bolivia for several hours before landing, this was my first real view of the country. It is an aerial view of La Paz just before we landed at the La Paz airport. It was only a layover, though, and we never left the aircraft.
At over 10,000 feet, it was an elevation greater than I’m accustomed to. I didn’t notice any altitude problems, although I did not have the opportunity to move around. I’m told it will take me a week or so to acclimate to the altitude, should I ever have the opportunity to visit again.
I want that opportunity. I’m ready to go back.