Bye bye Bolivia

Poor Jenny got a bad dose of food poisoning and we had to call a doctor. A skinny old fella in a brown pinstripe suit and matching hat, he couldn't be more old school if he tried. He arrived with his little bag of tools and promptly had the situation under control. I had to go to the chemist to buy a whole heap of shit and he hooked her up to a drip attached to a picture-hanger on the wall. A couple of injections and a bottle of manky medicine, enough sleep for a sloth, and now she's right as rain again. Unfortunately now it's Cato, who's coming with us to Cusco, who isn't a well puppy. If it ain't one thing it's something else.
But back to Bolivia. The country itself is very easy to get into. Coming from Perú, we strolled over to find no queues, no people, no waiting at all. The guard barely looked at our passports as he stamped them. Once they don't try bribe you (apparently quite common), it seems they don't give a rat's ass who you are or what you try bring into the country.

Jenny was mad at me for questioning the fuckers but otherwise they'll get away with murder (although that wouldn't be anything new here). The next night I had to go through the same shit again. Little men with big guns.
Anyone with the slightest authority seems to think they rule the Earth here. Even the traffic police strut around the chaos around them under the impression they're controlling it. Like in Perú they also have whistles, and they incessantly seek attention with them. Evidently unloved as children. Not one iota of difference to the traffic do they make. Little men with big whistles.

Another guy was sitting in front of a line of kids' shoes he was selling on the pavement, head down, looking pretty glum - evidently business was bad. Cato plonked his giant foot beside the shoes to size them up. "Awwww!" he exclaimed as he voiced his disappointment. Your man looked up, a giant smile on his face, absolutely delighted. It must have been a while since he heard a good joke.
Likewise, our hosts at Hostal Austria were fond of a joke too. The two men were ridiculously nice, looked after us very well, and asked us to come back again next year "con mucho amigos".

There were only women waiting outside shabby diners in the hope of selling fried eggs or grilled meat to hungry passengers who may be passing in the middle of the night.
One old guy sat on a chair inside his eatery with his wife nearby, just waiting, arms folded, heads down. The place was empty and they looked so bored, so miserable. They should have been asleep, but instead they waited, waited for customers who never came.

But that's a problem for another day. Before worrying about the finances at home, there's a final fling to be flung! So it's back to Perú, where the ancient Inca city of Cusco awaits, and with it the much vaunted Machu Picchu. I'm prepared for disappointment due to a natural suspicion of all "must see" tourist attractions, but am hoping to be pleasantly surprised.
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