|
It had rained in La Paz, and the humidity seemed to have
found shelter in room 715 of the Continental Hotel. Since my arrival in
Bolivia this small room had served as a refuge where, each night before
bed, I could record in my travel book all the experiences I was living.
It was Friday evening. I had just returned after a long
walk around the city, and I was exhausted. As I contemplated the rivulets
of rainwater snaking down my window, the phone rang. It was Luis. That
same morning I had met him in front of Plaza Murillo. We hit if off, and
now he was inviting me out for a night on the town.
I had read that Friday night in La Paz is sacred and
everyone parties until dawn. So I accepted the invitation.
Luis was tall and thin with precious black eyes. He was
all dressed up for the occasion. I, on the other hand, had forgotten to
bring clothes for these situations, so I made use of what I had: cotton
trousers, a t-shirt and a waterproof jacket. How elegant!
Luis had arranged to meet his friends at the door of the
Forum, the biggest discoteque in La Paz, located on Sanjinés Street.
Inside, we got a table that could accommodate the eleven of us. Luis and
two other guys went to the bar and brought back immense jars of
chufaly, a mix of the local
firewater and Sprite. The concoction sounds a bit strange, but the truth
is that it was delicious, so I did not protest. Little by little the
dancefloor began to fill up with people. I planned to stay put on the
comfortable sofa where I was seated, but that was clearly not my destiny.
One of Luis’ friends asked to me if I would dance with him, and without
giving time to respond, he took me by the hand and pulled me onto the
dancefloor where the others were. There we danced incessantly until we
were exhausted.
It was almost one in the morning when we left the first
discoteque and went to El Ojo de Agua.
Although this place may not seem very attractive at first, as soon as you
sink into its atmosphere, you never want to leave. As we were crossing the
dancefloor, somebody grabbed my arm and adopted me as his dance partner. I
was in motion once again! Although the light was very dim, I could tell
that my kidnapper wore trousers and a vest typical of the countryside. To
our right, a group of seven men, adorned just like my dance partner,
enthusiastically beat Andean drums, and played charangos, quenas, zampoñas
and other traditional instruments. The music was fantastic! For the first
time ever (and perhaps assisted by the chufaly),
I wasn’t embarassed to dance.
When the song finished, my companion thanked to me and I
went to reunite with my own group. Luis handed me a glass of
chicha (purple corn liquor).
After all that jumping around on the dancefloor, it went down easily.
Suddenly I noticed that several earthen bowls had appeared around us,
filled with green coca leaves. When Luis saw the surprised look on my
face, he invited me to try one. I felt a little strange at first, but
after a while I began to savor the juice. These leaves are part of daily
life in La Paz. The locals believe that they help attenuate the effects
of living at altitude, not to mention the fact that they help you to stay
awake and not feel hungry.
We hung out at this place for two or three hours more. I
danced more than I ever have before, filled to overflowing with the
beautiful sounds of the musical instruments.
Back in room 715. I took my pen and my travel book and I
settled in to write.
Suddenly, it was noon. I was stretched out on the bed’s
white sheets. Inside my head, I could still hear the rythmn from last
night’s music. My journal was on the table and next to it, my pen. The
page was blank. Could it have been a dream?
|
