The ride was awesome, along Lake Titicaca, and through a beautiful town called Juli. We couldn’t resist stopping for a few pics of the town, and spied workers stacking up rocks along a lane between some buildings. We were stunned to see their method of moving the big rocks from the pile that had obviously been dumped by a truck. Elderly men and women were loaded with 2 or 3 rocks on their backs, and they walked the half-block to the new location and dumped them there. We watched for several minutes as this slow process took place. Unbelievable!
Fluke may be an appropriate word but we were both tired and the sun was setting when we arrived in La Paz. But wait, this doesn’t look right. No wonder...we weren’t in La Paz yet and ended up on the highway to Oruro. That trip was to happen latter, so another infamous Gilly-galoo and we were headed in the right direction. (Side note: A Gilly-galloo is a bird that flies around in ever decreasing circles and finally ends up flying up his own ass. Well that’s John’s story anyway.) “Amigo! Por donde La Paz?” “Sud a la Autopista!” That’s what I thought.
The fluke? We ended up practically right downtown and Corinne spotted a high rise hotel. “Let’s stop!” she hollers in the CB sounding of extreme fatigue. Looking up at the 16 storey Hotel Presidente I was mentally checking the budget and said so to my lovely senorita. “I don’t care!” was the abrupt response and I knew there was no hope of reasonable discussion with la mujer. So I parked in front, and after a few words with the doorman, determined that they had a room and underground secure parking.