Chicken in the Office
It is six in the evening when we roll into the little village of La Paz. The day has been good; beautiful views, little traffic, clear sky; can we hope to have passed the rain season by? We are well over three thousand metres and all around is wonderful camping country, but we have no water. We park up outside a small shop and amble in to ask for some water.
The proprietor of the shop is a jovial lady who greets us warmly. Seeing the dark clouds looming up from the valley bellow she asks where we will spend the night. She explains in Spanish designed to be as simple as possible that there is no hostel or hotel nearby, but at the rear of the shop there is a small room that we are welcome to use for the night. We have a look. It has no beds, but the floor works well in this respect. We ask the price, the two ladies look at each other in astonishment at such a question, ‘gratis’ they say through their giggles. We see the large bottle of beer on the shelf, deal done.
It is a pleasant village, we while away a pleasent hour settled down with our beers on plastic chairs on the pavement outside the shop. The road is very quiet, a vehicel passes once every ten minutes. Passing people great us with a ‘good evening’ and an occasional enquire as to where we are from or where we are going.
A couple stop to chat, she speaks English and we are soon invited to visit them at the wooded cabin that they use for weekends away from the city.
I sleep well that night, Sebastian less so. A large armoured plated flying insect loudly buzzes through the air, hits the wall with a crash and then the floor with a thud. it continued to do this until it has beated the life out of itself. Fortunatly this did not take long. Sebastian was also troubled by his new pillow system which was aparenntly too low, and something that on several occasions ‘banged against his foot’ He seemed undisturbed to learned that that was my face.