Traveling

It was the day I was to leave and my visa still had not come in. I had spent most of Friday and Monday bugging the Bolivian consulate in Washington D.C. about whether my visa would arrive in time, which they assured me it would. I had to be at the airport by 3pm and there was still no word about the whereabouts of my visa. On top of this, I was having difficulty fitting everything into my two suitcases. I was way over the weight limit for each suitcase, so my mom helped me rearrange everything. (My arm muscles were getting a steady workout from having to lift each suitcase multiple times to check the weight.) Finally, the phone rang. My visa had finally arrived, and just in time. We raced to pick it up and headed out to the airport.

It was an interesting ride with my mom choking back tears and my sisters and their friend joking and laughing in the backseat. Man, was I going to miss hearing their laughter and comments. We arrived at the airport and as we wheeled my overweight suitcases to the street-side check-in, the dam burst. In between tears, my mom tried explaining to the airport guy that I was leaving for a year, yada yada. The man must have been sympathetic because he didn't charge me for the extra weight! We stood around not wanting to say goodbye, as my mom held back the tears. Finally, they turned towards the car and I headed into the airport. Security went fairly painless and I was soon sitting and waiting to board, busy with texting and emailing people. My mom, I swear, called me at least four times...not that I blame her...I am pretty amazing and difficult to miss. I couldn't believe I was actually going to be gone for a whole year...well, ok, like four or five months at a time, but it didn't feel real. It felt like I was simply going on another trip, which I had gone on tons.

I love to people watch and the airport is the perfect place to do so. I love trying to figure out people's stories and guess as to why there are there. There was a young boy with an elderly gentleman, who could barely speak English. He had the typical passport/paper holder around his neck and was looking rather lost without his companion. There was also a young blonde haired girl with her father, who was charging her Ipod in the same outlet that I was using. She kept switching back and forth between sitting near me, playing games on her Ipod, talking with her father who sat a few rows away, and running to the window to see if our plane had arrived. She reminded me of my sisters and I thought fondly on how they were riding into the airport, laughing and joking. There was also the seemingly tiredless airport worker, who had to repeat herself over and over to various guests, yet never seemed worn out or frustrated...I admired her efforts. We finally boarded and I made it to Miami safe and sound. I spent a few hours there, getting dinner of chicken fingers and fries at 930pm. There was a little boy who kept coming to where I was to throw trash away, and would smile at me shyly every time he passed. He was adorable and we shared secret smiles as we glanced at each other.

Two hours later, I was stuck in the middle of two people on the plane. It was going to be a long trip, although the young gentleman I sat next to was very helpful and helped put my heavy carry-on on the rack above. The lady on the other side of me helped to translate a feud that was going on in the next aisle. Apparently, some lady refused to move and then got into an argument with the other young lady who was sitting in the same row. Who knows...I was just anxious to leave and get some sleep on the plane, which I hardly got thanks to a loud gentleman, who did not understand the meaning of talking quietly. He was Italian, I believe, and his whisper was as loud as the airplane itself. I do believe, however, he managed to be quiet for about half an hour, in which he took a brief nap before entertaining the plane with his loud narrative of whatever. I'm sure his time of silence was a bit longer, but regardless, it was not enough time for the rest of the plane.

We landed in La Paz, Bolivia around 630am and those staying on until Santa Cruz had to stay on the plane. I kind of wanted to get up and stretch my legs, but it was a good thing I was not allowed off of plane, because the elevation of La Paz is so high, it frequently creates problems for people. While waiting for the plane to refuel and other passengers, my gentleman seatmate, and I (my other translator lady friend got off at La Paz) were able to stretch our legs when a plane attendant forced us to move in order to check our row for future passengers, removing all trash, and securing the safety of each seat. Finally, after about an hour and several passengers later, we were on our way to Santa Cruz.