Surviving El Alto

If Zona Sur is the wealthier, more posh, and warm part of La Paz where most white (i.e., non-indigenous) Bolivians and foreign diplomats live, El Alto is a totally different world altogether. Well, first I guess I should clarify that it is a separate city. Once a part of La Paz, El Alto has grown into the second-largest city in Bolivia (second after Santa Cruz, in the east of the country), mainly through the influx of campesinos (literal translation: peasants, but that is how it is referred to most indigenous people here) from the interiors of the country. It is located on the Altiplano (at approximately 4000 m above sea level), a 20-minute drive from the center of La Paz. I was to go to El Alto to one of our regional offices on the very first day I started work. I had been warned (by white Bolivians, might I add) that it is a hectic and dangerous place, and very cold. So I had my reservations. Also, the HR guy seemed to think that I would know my way around on my second week in La Paz (including to El Alto) because he offered no directions or other helpful information on how to get there. I had to practically pry it out of him. And then the difficulties started. How to direct someone who has never been to El Alto to the regional office there? Hmmm…. In the end, I opted for taking a cab simply because it saved us both much time and effort (he had unsuccessfully been trying to use Google Maps to show me how to get there for about 30 minutes when I decided that that was my threshold). It turned out the cab driver was not very familiar with El Alto either. He radioed in to the taxi dispatch operator and stopped several times to ask for directions. But eventually we got there.


The next day I was to return to the same location. Given that I had taken a minibus back into La Paz (the HR lady from the regional office kindly walked me to the corner where I could catch one), I thought getting back up there would be fairly simple. So, the following day, I hopped on a mini, then on another one and made my way up. Only problem was that once I reached El Alto, the place was a moving maze of minis, cars, and people. Market stalls lined the sidewalks selling everything from food to flowers to stationery. The streets all looked the same – the unfinished adobe architecture of all the buildings made everything blend together. It was hard to find landmarks that were unique. I was told that once the mini got off the highway and reached the next intersection that’s where I should get off. Which most people did, so I followed suit. I then looked around for a familiar landmark, something to orient myself. Yes, that overpass. Wait, there are several. A corner from which minis leave to La Paz. Again, several of those. I started walking in what I thought was the right direction. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to me. I walked a few blocks until I realized that wasn’t the right direction. I had been warned not to ask for directions and not to take cabs up there, because I would immediately stick out as a foreigner and get mugged (or something of the sort). But, as I saw a policeman walking towards me, I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask him for directions. He was super friendly and after a bit of discussion as to my destination (since some streets have names only on paper, but are never actually used by people, which turned out to be the case in my case), he pointed me in the right direction.

I have since been to El Alto several times. It is after all the area from which Pro Mujer started its operations. The first women to take out loans were from El Alto. There is a lot of organizational history and achievement linked to the city. I realized several things on my subsequent visits:
1. El Alto is much bigger than I had expected (even after being told it is huge). It stretches for kilometers, probably because there are no natural barriers to urban development on the Altiplano.
2. Yes, it is hectic but I did not feel in any way unsafe. Of course, pickpocketing and petty theft is common in the more crowded areas, like the big markets, but common sense should be enough to keep anyone out of trouble.
3. El Alto truly is a stronghold for Evo Morales. Slogans voicing their admiration for Evo and his rule adorn building walls. I was told by one of the supervisors at Pro Mujer that you can’t badmouth Evo in front of clients in El Alto because they get really mad at you. Elections are approaching in December although no-one is very interested in following the campaigns leading up to them. It is a foregone conclusion that Evo will secure himself another term. More on these issues in a separate post.
4. One of the best views (if not the best view) of La Paz can be glimpsed from El Alto, from the side of the highway going down to La Paz. It is well worth venturing up there, if only for that.
5. El Alto is apparently an arena for cholita wrestling on the weekends. (Cholita derives from the word cholo, which means of mixed American Indian ancestry. As it is used widely nowadays in Bolivia, cholita refers to women of indigenous descent who wear traditional clothing – large skirts bolstered by many petticoats, multiple top layers, a shawl or blanket which is pinned around the shoulders much like a shawl, and a bowler hat). Yes, I can just imagine what a spectacle that is.

Things I Love and Things I Miss Lately

I am sure both of these lists will keep growing, but for now here are a few things I really love about La Paz:
1. Catching a glimpse of snow-peaked Mt. Illimani on an almost daily basis. Reminds me that I am actually in the Andes, and at a much higher altitude than I have ever been before.
2. Never having to wait longer than 5 minutes for public (or rather, what counts as public) transportation.
3. Getting my shoes shined to perfection on the street for 30 cents (and always having the shoeshine guy ask me, "De donde eres, señorita?"). By the way, I call the shoeshine guys "ninjas" because they wear these face masks that cover everything but their eyes, I'm guessing, in order not to breathe in shoe polish fumes all day. But they do look somewhat scary.
4. The fruits and vegetables are delicious! (and cheap) I have also discovered the strange fruit of chirimoyo (or cherimoya, as I learned it is called in English), which according to Milos tastes like bubble gum. I would disagree, but it is pretty sweet when properly ripe.
5. The multitude of bakeries and the delicious baked goods they sell.
6. Related to the above, I love salteñas - empanada-like pastries filled with beef, chicken or pork, potatoes, peas, mixed with a sweet-spicy sauce.


And a few things I inevitably miss (other than my family and friends):
1. Food from all corners of the world, but especially sushi. They do try hard to make lots of varieties of trout maki and sushi in the few sushi restaurants that exist (there's lots of trout in Lake Titicaca), but it just isn't the same. I miss Wasabi Lobby, our favorite place in New York, and I especially miss unagi.
2. Having things happen at the time that people tell you they will happen. I really think Bolivians are the kings of procrastination - always pushing things off till tomorrow, then the day after, then the following week. Although I can appreciate a more laid-back lifestyle being in limbo for days on end is not that pleasant.
3. Vegetation - there isn't much of it at this altitude and whatever vegetation does exist, is quite dry at this point. We await the rainy season, which supposedly starts in November.
4. Office happy hour culture - it doesn't exist here. At least not in my office. Everyone comes to work, does their job, eats a quick lunch together in the office kitchen, works some more, and goes home. There is not much getting together outside of work, at least as far as I can tell.

Jello and Flavored Milk

Two things that Bolivians really seem to love (thankfully, not mixed together). Today, six out of 10 people at our office lunch table had jello for dessert. Not sure what the obsession with it is. Flavored milk is sold in small plastic packets, which people bring to work, drink on the bus or while walking on the street. Kids especially love that stuff. While attending community association meetings of Pro Mujer clients, I noticed that the flavored milk was often the women's way to keep their kids happy and quiet while they received training, made loan payments, etc..You simply bite off the corner of the plastic packet and drink (not very hygienic, but anyway). Too bad that I am not a big fan of either milk or jello.

Mobile Fingerprinting

Residence permit update.
Our tramitador calls me to tell me that we have to sign some more forms for the police (this time not Interpol). We agree to meet at my office. He shows up and tells me that we need to find some witnesses. I'm confused at first. Turns out, that we need two people to verify that each of us (and no-one else) signed the forms. My colleagues think I am crazy when I tell them what they have to do. But they agree to sign without requesting too many details as to what and why. Simple enough. The tramitador proceeds to take out a number of different forms from his briefcase AND an inkpad.
Me: I guess I'm getting fingerprinted again.
Tramitador: Yes, all 10 fingers.
Me: Again?


He then takes both of our fingerprints. Apparently, Milos's fingers are better "built" for fingerprinting. Who knew? So what we would have had to do at the police station, he did for us at the office instead. Talk about onsite service. I am glad I don't have to make an extra trip to a police station but I still can't believe how things work here.

Interpol Adventures

This morning we visited Interpol. When I hear the word "Interpol", my mind conjures up the image of a powerful, all-knowing, all-penetrating organization with state-of-the-art technology (maybe that comes from watching too much CSI). Well, our experience today, at least at this La Paz branch of Interpol, couldn't be further from that image. We met our tramitador (the guy helping us with our paperwork) outside. As we walked in (no security check of any kind, mind you), we were directed up the stairs to the first floor - the place was kind of dark and the stairs rickety and squeaky. They also use the space under the staircase as storage... so we walked past a collection of old (and probably broken) chairs and tables. After going down a few different corridors, we ended up outside the Interpol office. Inside the Interpol "office" (really, it is one room) there were two policemen. I had to go first. They proceeded to fingerprint me (black ink on all ten fingers). After the fingerprinting, I was given a rag to clean off the ink (the rag was almost black from all the other fingers that it had cleaned prior to mine). Then came the time for questions: father's name, mother's name, address in the U.S., address in Bolivia, husband, children, etc. The guy appeared a little bit confused by my passport and asked me my place of birth (in the passport, it says "Bulgaria").
I answered: "Bulgaria".
Policeman: "Is that a state in the United States?" (since it's a U.S. passport).
I paused for a second.
Me: "No, that's a country in Europe."
Policeman: "Can you give me any other details about your place of birth?"
Me: "City of birth: Sofia. Country of birth: Bulgaria."
Policeman: "What was the name of the city again?"


So, I am not sure what they will be checking or how, but I would have imagined that Interpol's personnel would at least have a decent knowledge of countries. Maybe not know their exact geographic location, but to have heard of them. (Well, actually, he did know about Serbia, so I have to give him that. Funnily enough, Milos hasn't teased me about that yet.)

Welcome to Bolivia (or the hassle of getting a temporary residence permit)

Planning on staying in Bolivia for a period longer than three months? Welcome to the mega-process that is the Bolivian temporary residence application (residencia temporal). Unfortunately, the days when you could stay in the country for 90 days, then cross the border to Peru or Chile and re-enter 24-48 hours later to start a new 90-day stay are over (especially for U.S. citizens; for others, it is also harder and depends mostly on the mood and whim of the immigration official at the border). If you overstay your visa, you are fined $2 per day. In some cases, the cumulative fine may still turn out to be cheaper than getting the residence permit, which altogether costs somewhere between $400 and $500, depending on who helps you with the paperwork (see below). For us though, given that we will be here for 11 months, the fine is not the cheaper option. Thus, here we are, embarking on the mega-process and keeping our fingers crossed. (As a side note, I have heard that the residence process in Bulgaria is also quite nightmarish, which makes me wonder why the countries that hold the least interest for potential immigrants have the most complex immigration procedures?)



The list of documents you will need for the residence permit (if you have come in on a non-tourist visa, Visa de Objeto Determinado) is longer than any list for any bureaucratic process I have experienced so far (including the U.S. green card and naturalization processes) - as you will see below. Anyone who enters as a tourist and later wishes to change his/her status, needs to go through a mini-process preceding this one.

1. Letter from a lawyer requesting the temporary residence (apparently, this letter also has to state that you are a good person; nice reference from someone who barely knows me).
2. Valid passport.
3. Photocopies of the picture and Bolivian visa pages of your passport.
4. Work contract that has been certified by the Ministry of Labor and photocopy of the tax identification number document of the organization.
5. If you don't have a work contract, then present a notarized letter detailing the purpose of your stay and your source of financial support.
6. If you belong to any societies, present a legalized photocopy of a) the founding documents (registered by the Foundation for Business Development), b) the tax identification number document (executed by the National Revenue Service).
7. If you are married to a Bolivian citizen or have children who are Bolivian citizens, present the original marriage and birth certificates. If you were married overseas, present a legalized and authenticated copy of the marriage certificate and its respective translation, if necessary.
8. Criminal record certificate drawn up by the Special Forces in the Fight Against Crime (for those older than 16 years).
9. Criminal record certificate drawn up by INTERPOL (for those older than 16 years) (really, INTERPOL?).
10. Address registration certificate drawn up by the Special Forces in the Fight Against Crime.
11. Medical certificate showing that the applicant is not suffering from any infectious diseases, executed by the Institute for Occupational Health.
12. One photograph, size 4x4 cms on red background (red background?!?)


Note: Additional documents are needed to complete a number of these steps. It's simply a bureaucratic maze - a process within a process, that is almost impossible to decipher. So far, we have gathered (or so we think) all the necessary paperwork to be able to do each of these steps. We also completed Step #11, the medical exam, which was pretty thorough and even included a dental check (?!?!). Hopefully, the results will be to the Bolivian authorities' liking. Tomorrow, we are headed to INTERPOL where we will be fingerprinted and asked all sorts of questions about our past (oooooh). Needless to say, it is nearly impossible to do this without the help of a local who is familiar with the process. The so-called tramitadores are there to guide you and prevent you from getting ripped off, for a fee of course, but it is well worth paying. Their full-time job may be something completely unrelated - ours works for a tourist agency. But, by having gone through the process so many times, they know most of the people behind the counters of the various agencies and can help speed things along. Or so we've heard (and hope!). So, fingers crossed that things go smoothly and we can soon travel in and out of the country without problems, should we want to. As a friend said, "You will have to sacrifice the necessary red tape at midnight." I believe it is about that time.

What's in a Name?

Names are important. They represent your identity. Often, they even determine how people take to you or, apparently, also your success in life (remember Freakonomics?). Well, some Bolivians have taken this apparent relationship very close to heart, purposefully naming their kids with Western (i.e., English) names: William, Walter, Milton, Vivianne are some of the names I have come across so far. I was told that parents (especially those from poorer and less educated backgrounds) really believe that a Western-sounding name (which they equate with a modern name) will make all the difference in their child’s life. Sometimes, however, the search for the Western-sounding name takes on some comical (in the eyes of foreigners) proportions. Meet Usnavy. If you read closely, you will notice that the origin of the name was probably a sign or label that read US Navy. Then we have the successful lawyer, Walker. Apparently, his brother’s name is Johnnie. Last week, I met Pool – his name is simply a transliteration of Paul. That’s how they heard it; that’s how they spelled it. And, of course, every now and then we meet an action hero – in this case, Macguyver.

Transportation Options in La Paz

Although at first glance the traffic appears overwhelming and the transportation options confusing, navigating them once you have a sense for how things work is quite easy. Getting around the city actually couldn’t be easier. Not counting private cars, there are four main transportation options:
1. Micros – These are buses that are about half or three-quarters the size of a regular bus (hence the name). The smaller size makes it easier to navigate the narrow and winding streets in La Paz. They are the cheapest means of transportation, although also the slowest and least frequent.

2. Minis – These are mini-buses (the equivalent of the Bulgarian marshrutka) that criss-cross the city along set routes. They are the most abundant vehicles in the streets, zig-zagging from lane to lane, competing for passengers. Sometimes, all you see are columns and columns of mini-buses; the sight almost makes me forget that regular cars exist. Unlike the ones in Bulgaria, these minis are so frequent that you never have to wait longer than a minute or two during the day before one headed on your route comes along. Getting a ride on a mini costs between 1 Boliviano (Bs) and 2.30 Bs, depending on the distance and the time of day. (1 USD = approx. 7 Bs) Each mini’s driver has a sidekick to help him collect fares and also to attract passengers. They lean out of the mini’s window and shout out main stops along the route at a speed that would put any one of those readers of the small print in medicine commercials on US television to shame. They even manage to name the current fare somewhere in the avalanche of words.

3. TRUFIs – The acronym stands for Taxi de Ruta Fija (set route taxi). As the name suggests, these are basically taxis that follow set routes. They are almost as frequent as minis and faster because they make fewer stops to pick up passengers, although slightly more expensive (the fare is 3 Bs). The only thing to watch out for with TRUFIs is sitting in front, next to the driver, because that seat is meant for two people, so you might end up squished uncomfortably next to the stick shift.

4. Taxis – Taxis are abundant and although they are the most expensive relative to the other transportation options, they are still pretty cheap. (For example, getting from the Zona Sur to the centre costs between 12 and 15 Bs, around $2.) We’ve been warned not to flag taxis down on the street at night; calling a radio taxi is the best and safest way to go.

A Beginning in Bolivia (Part II)

First-week learnings continued:

There is no such thing as too many cables.

One of the first things you notice is how many cables hang above the sidewalks. The city is literally wired with bundles and bundles of cables. It almost makes you feel like each household and office has its own individual electricity cable. And they just keep stringing them up. I guess, I never thought how many cables might be hidden underground in other countries.

Although the view of Mount Illimani (6439 m) is spectacular, you don’t necessarily want an apartment with that view.

Illimani is one of the looming giants of the Cordillera Real and it is a prime sight from the higher areas of La Paz. However, as we learned, north is the best direction to face (yes, now that we are in the southern hemisphere), because that way your apartment gets the most sun (and, trust me, an apartment with no sun exposure feels like a cave). Sadly, Illimani lies to the south-east.

La Paz is much better lit and cleaner than Sofia.

I guess Sofia is not a hard benchmark to beat in this respect, but I was still quite surprised to see the whole city illuminated by hundreds of lights, even the poorer or more remote areas. (Abundance of natural gas could be the answer.) And I am yet to see trash in the streets.