Welcome to Bolivia

I am now entirely sick of fiction novels. Especially suspense novels. I have read like 10 in the last 3 months. There is usually some down to earth average Joe that everyone identifies with who happens to be incredibly smart at solving mysteries and attracts his fair share of ladies (although because he is a respectable gentlemen nothing ever really happens, but you have to make the point that he is handsome), who gradually solves a mystery that the author only gradually gives you with little twists and misdirections that are usually so similar between books that I know what will happen 100 pages before it actually does. I am good at that with movies too. I can totally ruin it for people sometimes (sorry ‘bout that). It seems modern book writing has become too much like television. Too bad it is these suspense novels are what take up the majority of shelf space in book exchanges. That and romance novels, and books in German. I will take suspense to romance, unless it is a proven classic, and I just simply can’t read German, which sucks actually, because the Germans usually seem to be reading the more interesting, better written books. So because I am so sick of reading the same style book over and over, and I now realize I have written about 55 blog entries, I thought I would spice up the reading for you all, and write a poem. It is based on my experiences thus far in Bolivia, and while all is more or less true, I have taken literary license to make my experiences sound funnier and more adventurous then they perhaps in reality were. I have entitled it “Welcome to Bolivia,” and I anticipate it will be up for the Nobel Prize for Literature at the end of the year.


Welcome to Bolivia

Llama empanadas on a two day horse back tour,
Is yummy in your tummy though the butt is very sore,
People wearing silly clothes are gringos from the west,
While locals in their native garb live with so much less,
Welcome to Bolivia, Tupiza you are in,
With a little bit of luck, the food will be your friend.

Stinky, smelly, no cover, toilettes have seen their use,
You can get a good leg burn while trying to squat a deuce,
Flush with a pitcher of water into the bowl,
But that is better than having nothing but a hole,
Welcome to Bolivia, where toilettes you will see,
Don’t think you can handle it? Then you better not eat.

Busses shake, rattle and roll on bumpy pot marked streets,
You will not sleep a wink but at least you have a seat,
Stuffy, hot…or cold, a bathroom break there soon (?) may be,
Can’t find the bathroom? Just pee in the middle of the street,
Welcome to Bolivia, any bus you are on,
They get you where you’re going but aren’t a bunch of fun.

Mountain mines and dynamite in dark and musty holes,
Makes even the bravest ones turn into claustrophobes,
Leisurely strolls up the block at thirteen thousand feet,
Will make you gasp for air while chewing your coca leaves ,
Welcome to Bolivia, Potosi is the town,
At forty-one-hundred meters it throws the gauntlet down.

And I’ve failed to mention La Paz, Sucre, Santa Cruz,
Where there are more adventures to be had, more to choose,
So when you come to this land set high above the sea,
Make sure to bring your camera and chew some coca leaves,
Because this is Bolivia, in all its majesty,
And you never know, it might just make you write poetry.