New Page 2

As we stumbled and sloshed through the jungle, the awaiting grasslands seemed a promised land. In almost every way, they were all that we expected. There was a fresh, breezy, pastoral feel to them, and unlike the jungle where one could rarely see more than a few feet, they offered a panoramic view of the surrounding hills. The Illampu Massif was now far behind us and the ridgeline was more gentle - the trail was less rocky and the ascents and descents less steep. Even though, we were now exposed to the tropical sun, the anticipated heat did not materialize. The one problem we encountered here was the bees; bees and their buddies, black flies, ruled the grasslands. They weren't a serious problem. They weren't vicious and didn't attack and sting unless provoked. They did, however, have some annoying habits. They were attracted to people. There were few around as long as one was moving, but once one stopped, they started to accumulate...

We learned all about this our first afternoon in the grasslands. We had made good time. By 3 we'd gone far enough to make it to Mapiri the following day. We decided to stop for the evening and take a rest. Soon bees and flies started appearing. Amazingly, it was as if we were separated from them by some space-time discontinuum. Our backpacks, hats, and clothing were soon covered with buzzing, angry-sounding insects but they took no notice of us - it was as if we weren't there. What was the big attraction... maybe sweat? The guides and porters (who knowingly refrained from setting up camp) said they wouldn't leave until they returned to their hives to sleep at sunset. Gee, just 3 hours, we thought. We all sat on the grassy hill top pretending that nothing was happening. The angry horde kept mounting. We lasted until 4 and then beat a quick retreat. Putting on bee-covered backpacks and clothes proved to be quite a feat - when bees get smashed between pack and body they get angry fast.


The guides said that recurring fires had destroyed the jungle vegetation and allowed grass to grow along our ridge. Whatever the case, the grasslands provided pleasant walking.			Final day, 3 hours from Mapiri which lies hidden behind the hill. The Mapiri river is in the background.	In spite of the mud and rain, finding water is a serious concern in the jungle and the grasslands. This small creek is just outside of Mapiri.

We arrived in Mapiri early Friday afternoon. It is a small, jungle town that takes little interest in tourists. Its major industries are gold and agriculture - gold is even used as currency. Another of its major products is noise, at least it was the night we spent there. During the day there was not a clue - Mapiri is a quiet, sleepy town...the night time is another matter. The only telephone appears to be at the Entel office which uses a heavy-duty speaker system to blare out announcements of incoming calls. There are lots of bars and lots of parties. The bars all have Karaoke which draw in untalented but aspiring lounge lizards who start belting out their high-volume, off-key clatter at sunset. Real amphibians add to this cacophony - tree frogs make an insistent, clapping sound as if two pieces of mahogany were being slapped together. This din lasts until three AM when replaced by crowing roosters.

I mention this because all the noise converged on the second floor, middle room of the Alojamiento Sorata (not to be confused with Sorata's Residential Sorata) - our room. The Lonely Planet warns against the Alojamiento Sorata then ominously never mentions why - we should have taken the hint. We were tired and muddy, however, and rooms were scarce - rural school teachers were holding a football tournament and thirsty, party-hungry athletes, girlfriends, and fans had filled most rooms.


	Downtown Mapiri

The Alojamiento Sorata - a nice courtyard but uninspired, noisy rooms.


	Rural school teachers working up a thirst.

Bolivia, 2001