Con machete, sin zapatos...

(PHOTO- Left to right: Brendon, Leah, Cam, Matt, Dom, Alan, Ross and yours truly on the roof of Loki Hostel enjoying the 'offensive Sunday' BBQ)

So... this blog requires a little bit of background information to contextualise my crazy La Paz world...
This week several of my friends left the hostel for good. Living in such tight quarters (8 to a room) we had all become very close in the month since I arrived, and the loss of Dom, Leah and Matt has been felt very keenly in the staff room. In order to remedy this melancholy the ever wise management here at Loki decided that a several hour, non stop alcohol- fest would be the absolute best way of making everyone feel better. It should be said at this stage that I really like the management here which consists primarily of three blokes; Osgar the hostel owner, Alan the manager, and Cam the bar manager and my direct boss. All three heavily tattooed and mawhawked they make an imposing first impression, but every-day travelling teaches you a little something new about not judging people, and the longer I spend here the more I can appreciate that these are wonderful guys, who (normally) really look after the staff and have simply made some rather controversial lifestyle choices. Oh, and they're all raging alcoholics, but it takes all sorts. Anyway, there is one exception to this rule of lovelyness, and that would be any situation that involves Alan and tequila. Alan is one of the most interesting people I have ever met, at only 21 he has enough life experience and tattoos to pass as mid thirties, he speaks six languages, and knows all the words to all the dirtiest songs in the world. A good fun bloke to be around by all accounts, until the tequila comes out, which is what happened in our 'we're sad because our friends have left- fest' on Tuesday. Unfortunately 21 years appears not to be enough time to realise that when you're a 6ft 4 Slovenian just because you find weilding a machete in the staff room at 4am to be hilarious, not everybody else will feel the same way. It turned out that he had only come to wake us all up because he had made too many toasties breaking into the kitchen after hours, and felt we should all join him to watch Zombieland and eat them. Not a terrifying prospect, but con machete more than enough for one night.

This week also saw my friend Ross drive a quad bike off a (small) cliff, and somehow come out unharmed by having the presence of mind to jump off half way down... undoubtedly lucky to be alive, he was unbelieveably lucky not to break anything, and instead provided us all with a hilarious visual by coming back wearing a suit covered head to toe in mud, having worn it insisting that the sport of quad biking should be classy and suave (no alcohol entered into that decision either). Rallying like a true Irish man Ross persuaded our boss to let him have the night off 'to recover', and promptly sat on the other side of the bar and drank his body weight while still wearing the suit. I decided not to join the guys for quad biking, feeling lucky enough to have survived death road the week before unharmed. This turned out to be the correct choice as I decided to bimble round the city as an alternative activity, exercised all the grace and physical prowess I am known for and walked smack bang into a lampost causing an elderly Ketchuan woman to nearly get hit by a taxi as she stood doubled up in the street wetting herself laughing at me. Thank you folks I'm here all week. By no means my first bump in La Paz either, as the week before, visiting the bizarrely westernised cinema here to see Inception (FINALLY!!! Awesome film!!), I purchased enough ice cream to fill a small cement mixer and then promptly face planted into it while walking up the stairs into the cinema, which luckily gave Brendon and Dom a laugh, but also served to take down the swelling where my face had hit the floor. See mum, you're worried travelling will change me, but it seems blimming unlikely so far!

Apart from my crazy Loki life, this week sees the end of the third of my four weeks in the orphanage. I'm sure all reading will be relieved to know that I am much more careful with the babies than I am with myself. And to date have only dropped one of them. From not very high. And she was fine. This week will forever remain in my memory as the 'week of Jurassic Park'. Oh yes. The one year olds learned a new trick this week, in order to recreate the effect at home follow these simple steps. 1) Take a small child who only last ate about one hour ago, 2) Beg and plead for the child to open thier mouth and accept a few mouthfuls of liquidised carrot 3) get lulled into a sense of false security by the babies being quite well behaved and eating the majority of their food (or, more accurarately storing it in their cheeks), 4) listen to the warning hiccough of a baby with an eveil plan and four liquidised carrots in thier mouth 5) TAKE COVER!! As a la Dennis Quaid in Jurrasic Park with the tiny spraying dinosaur the ENTIRE locale gets completely covered in carrot as said child blows a massive rasberry. The best part of one of the babies having started this is that it took roughly 5 minutes for the 'monkey see monkey do' effect to properly kick in, and then it was like riding Catanka Canyon at Alton Towers as all ten babies being fed in a nice communal circle replicated the effect. Excellent. How that little Ketchuan woman would have laughed at me as I stood by the side of the road covered head to toe in mashed carrot, trying desperately to look normal as I flagged down a collectivo to take me home. The man wearing the suit sat next to me for the ride back was delighted as well, unfortunately I dont know the spanish for 'I'm sorry about all the mashed carrot on your lapels'.

Today was yet another eventful day at the orphanage. Last week my fellow volunteer Mark and I had the idea of buying a paddling pool for the babies, and, having agreed to split the cost, approached the management to get permission. We were told to go ahead, it was an excellent idea, only to arrive today and find two pools set up in the garden area. Excited and impressed that anything had happened so fast in Bolivia we were keen to get the babies into the pool for a bit of splashy fun. Unfortunately our plans were foiled when it was explained to us that 'yes it was an excellent idea, but your babies are too young to go swimming and these pools are for the older children'. Now, I'll be the first to admit I know naff all about babies, but I do know about swimming, and I know the sooner a child goes in the water the better their confidence in it will be thier whole life. This was paid testament to later when they put the 4 and 5 year olds in the pool and their was a lot of crying and reluctance to play. Prior to this however, Mark and I had decided to be mavericks, citing the small print that just because the babies werent allowed to swim didn't ment they couldn't splash. So one by one we bought the babies out to put their hands in the water and have a bit of a play. We were totally on the money and the babies loved the pools (having never seen anything like that before). One little boy in particular, Ruben, who I was holding, was enjoying himself so much I rolled up his sleeves so he could put more of his hands in. He had the biggest smile on his face ever, but unfortunately as it was a soft sided pool he leaned over so far he got his dungarees all wet. Oops. I went to move him back from the water and he made to climb in, so looking down at his massively smiley little face, and his soaking dungarees, Mark and I made the executive decision to be really naughty, take the childrens shoes off (sin zapatos) and put them in the pool fully clothed. They absolutley loved it, splashing and playing with each other. Luckily the mamita was more amused than anything when we brought back two soaking wet but incredibly smiley children. Next week the petition startes to get them all in there, it would be a great end to my month at the orphanage!