Ali Baba and the Forty Witches

My adaptation to the altitude is going surprisingly well. I no longer have a constant headache. In fact, I wake up very refreshed. It's raining outside so I spend the better part of the day in my room, reading, writing, communicating. At 3pm the rain finally stops, so I grab the camera and venture out. The Witches Market beckons. 

It's not nearly as crowded as I thought it would be. It would be more accurate to say it's almost deserted. Yet in the sides of the buildings, there are stalls full of strange figurines emitting odd odors. As I come nearer, I realize that some of the figurines aren't little stone idols, but rotted llama embryos. There are lots of them, all around. My head starts spinning. The witches chatting in the stalls give me no heed. I need to get out of here.

I cross the bottom of the valley and start climbing on the other side of the city. Here I find the Ministry of Justice, the Presidential Palace, the Police Headquarters, a mall. In front of the Police Headquarters I am confronted by a cop, perhaps wondering what damage the camera on top of the steadicam could do. I show him exactly how it works, he smiles bemused and bids me good luck. 

A little further down I see a local reporter and her cameraman. I approach and ask if they know where I can find a 43mm graduated ND filter. The operator puts his camera on the ground and says, "Buenos Aires." I should have known. Good thing I made sure I get a laptop charger from Miami. Then he tells me in a very concerned tone of voice that I shouldn't walk around with this camera, it's very dangerous and I could get mugged. I shrug and walk away. Perhaps I should listen.

It's getting dark and it's starting to rain. I head home, passing the beautiful church on the bottom of the valley. It's quite crowded. Suddenly I feel something hit the side of my face. Water, perhaps, but it was a bit much to have come from the sky. I touch my face panicked, it seems to be just water, but who knows. I should get out of here as quickly as possible and take a shower at home. I actually run up the hill, partly to see how my red blood cell generation is coming along. I jump under the shower in the hotel, but still can't get the strange incident out of my head. I start digitizing the DV tape and reading my email. Then I reach for my cellphone.

It's gone! I can't believe it! For a moment I feel gutted. That just can't be. I always carry my phone in my front pocket where it is heavy and I can feel it. I ransack the entire room, I even call it. Nothing. The realization slowly sinks in. The weird incident in front of the church must have been a distraction while someone must have reached and stolen it. What's incredible is that I didn't realize that it was gone for another hour and a half . Boy, am I slow! I guess I probably deserve it then. What's infuriating is that I had thought about putting my headphones on and listening to some music on the phone, but had checked myself with the premise that I would be more alert when walking around without music.

So that's that. I've been to quite a few shady places but this is a first. I can't say that I wasn't warned. At the same time, somehow I don't feel that bad. This is a very poor place. Perhaps somebody gets to eat because of my phone. And perhaps they even saved me a bunch of money judging by the international roaming charges I got the last few times I traveled. Of course, the moment I cancel it and its battery dies (in all likelihood iphone chargers don't abound here), it becomes as useful as a piece of broken glass. Perhaps, it's sitting right now in a big thieves' cave among other treasures such as salt, water and llama fetuses, awaiting a future Bolivian Aladdin to get the old witch's instructions: ''Bring me the iphone. Don't touch anything else! And don't you dare rub it..."