Happy Festival of Ishtar (March 29)
So I was supposed to meet up with this guy from MAS, who was supposed to help me schedule some interviews. But when I went to look for my little green notebook, the one with all my names and phone numbers, I couldn't find it. So I freaked out a little bit. I would have freaked out a lot more, except that a fair amount of the information in there was backed up in one place or anther. Still, I wanted to find it. I remembered using it at a phone kiosk the day before, and then I went to an internet place, then home for the evening. So there weren't many places it could be, at least.
When I got to the phone place and asked if I had left my notebook, the guy opened up a drawer on his desk and, right on top, was my notebook. I breathed a sigh of relief, at least until I opened it and found that every single page that had anything written on it had been ripped out. What the Hell? What would prompt someone to do that? Did they just figure "alright, free notebook!" They could have at least used the blank pages and not torn out all my information. I don't think 16 hours is that long to try and go back and look for something left behind. So I was asking about what happened, and if the guy knew where the pages might be, but mostly he was interested in trying to explain why there was no way I should be mad at him: I left it behind, he didn't do it, etc. I dug through the trash and found three pages (two of which were worthless), and asked if there were any other trash cans, to which he replied "you left it in the phone cabinet!" Thanks, jackass. I mean, I think I was obviously upset, because to do that seems pretty insane to me(and it was pretty obvious that SOMEONE sitting at that desk had ripped the pages out), but I wasn't getting mad at him. I just wanted my notes back. But he had almost zero interest in trying to help, he just wanted to tell me why I should leave him alone. Which I did, because I had an appointment. Of course the guy I was supposed to meet was 45 minutes late anyways, as is the style here, and for a while I thought I had been stood up - which would have fit in well with the way my day was going. After my meeting, I went back to the phone place, where I found my notes in a bucket in the back room where the staff dumps their ashtrays. So all's well that ends well, I guess.
The guy I met, Nelson Carvajal, is friends with Luis Gomez and works in the MAS party to some capacity (but Martijn had to go, so we didn't chat much). Anyways, Nelson promised the world - interviews with several people from each of the main political parties, with the minister of hydrocarbons, with labor leaders. I guess if I get the research equivalent of a lot for my double-wide I should be happy though. That seems to be how these things work. Nelson was about my age, and dressed in a shabby knit top, so I don't know that I should expect a lot (he didn't exactly portray the image of someone well-known in the corridors of power - Martijn thought he looked like the janitor). But who knows, we'll see. From what I've been made to understand dress codes have gotten more relaxed since Evo came into power.
At any rate, I'm really starting to itch to get out of La Paz. I'm really crossing my fingers that interviews will come through next week (apparently there's a legislative recess the first three days of next week, which will be a good time to have interviews), and that I can get out of Dodge. La Paz isn't as fun as Cochabamba, the weather isn't as nice, the air isn't as clean, and I don't really have many friends here. Perttu has been out of town for a while (Spring Break at Daytona Beach, which makes me laugh to think of him and his two Finnish friends there. It's a long way from Helsinki), and it's lonely alone in the apartment.
Yeah. Nada mas. Hasta luego.
When I got to the phone place and asked if I had left my notebook, the guy opened up a drawer on his desk and, right on top, was my notebook. I breathed a sigh of relief, at least until I opened it and found that every single page that had anything written on it had been ripped out. What the Hell? What would prompt someone to do that? Did they just figure "alright, free notebook!" They could have at least used the blank pages and not torn out all my information. I don't think 16 hours is that long to try and go back and look for something left behind. So I was asking about what happened, and if the guy knew where the pages might be, but mostly he was interested in trying to explain why there was no way I should be mad at him: I left it behind, he didn't do it, etc. I dug through the trash and found three pages (two of which were worthless), and asked if there were any other trash cans, to which he replied "you left it in the phone cabinet!" Thanks, jackass. I mean, I think I was obviously upset, because to do that seems pretty insane to me(and it was pretty obvious that SOMEONE sitting at that desk had ripped the pages out), but I wasn't getting mad at him. I just wanted my notes back. But he had almost zero interest in trying to help, he just wanted to tell me why I should leave him alone. Which I did, because I had an appointment. Of course the guy I was supposed to meet was 45 minutes late anyways, as is the style here, and for a while I thought I had been stood up - which would have fit in well with the way my day was going. After my meeting, I went back to the phone place, where I found my notes in a bucket in the back room where the staff dumps their ashtrays. So all's well that ends well, I guess.
The guy I met, Nelson Carvajal, is friends with Luis Gomez and works in the MAS party to some capacity (but Martijn had to go, so we didn't chat much). Anyways, Nelson promised the world - interviews with several people from each of the main political parties, with the minister of hydrocarbons, with labor leaders. I guess if I get the research equivalent of a lot for my double-wide I should be happy though. That seems to be how these things work. Nelson was about my age, and dressed in a shabby knit top, so I don't know that I should expect a lot (he didn't exactly portray the image of someone well-known in the corridors of power - Martijn thought he looked like the janitor). But who knows, we'll see. From what I've been made to understand dress codes have gotten more relaxed since Evo came into power.
At any rate, I'm really starting to itch to get out of La Paz. I'm really crossing my fingers that interviews will come through next week (apparently there's a legislative recess the first three days of next week, which will be a good time to have interviews), and that I can get out of Dodge. La Paz isn't as fun as Cochabamba, the weather isn't as nice, the air isn't as clean, and I don't really have many friends here. Perttu has been out of town for a while (Spring Break at Daytona Beach, which makes me laugh to think of him and his two Finnish friends there. It's a long way from Helsinki), and it's lonely alone in the apartment.
Yeah. Nada mas. Hasta luego.
posted by Devin Malone at 12:31 PM
0 comments
