Tres Amigos

In the morning I decide that I can't live at least without internet and grab the car keys for the arduous mud journey across the valley to the village. That's when I realize that I'm not the only one staying at the ranch. As I climb the path from the cabin to the car I meet two young guys who are looking in awe somewhere in the distance behind my back. I turn around and see that the clouds have cleared to reveal mount Illampu, towering 4,000m above the valley. We stare in silence for awhile, then we introduce and I offer to give them a ride to town. Nano and Alan thank me but say that they have to work in the morning, so I suggest we all go to the San Pedro cave in the afternoon. They say sure and we agree to meet later at their cabin.

In the whole village there's only one internet cafe with three computers. Luckily, I time my arrival well and find one free. An hour in the dark room before the glowing screen flies by like seconds and I head back to the ranch, though not before filming yet another entire Bolivian family, men, women and children, completely drunk at lunchtime... on a Monday no less.

I get to the boys' cabin where I meet the third amigo, Nico. We jump in the car. The guys are wearing shorts and flip-flops after consulting with me if we'll be doing any hiking. I say no, though I should know better. Nico calls shotgun and we set off in reverse up the steep ranch entrance so I can avoid doing yet another 5-point U-turn. All three are students at the University of Buenos Aires and have been traveling for the last 3 months, doing all kinds of odd jobs to finance their journey. They are very different from one another, yet it seems their personalities complement very well, as they should after three months of sleeping in the same room and spending almost every waking hour together. Alan is the serious one, Nico is the fun-loving mixer, while Nano is the jester. As we drive along the 6 mile dirt road to the cave, the guys shower me with questions about what I do and where I am from.

"Bulgaria."

"Yeah? I have a grandmother who's from Bulgaria," Nico gets excited. "I'm applying to become Bulgarian, and I promised her when I get my passport, I'll get a ticket for her and for me and we'll go there together."

I tell him he'll like it, while Nano asks about the girls in Bulgaria. He's been to Prague and likes the idea of going again to Eastern Europe. I joke that Nico should be able to tell him.

"Well, I don't like Nico so much," he quips, perhaps misunderstanding my words.

We talk a bit about the Waygoer.

"Is he a hippie?"

"How does he support himself?"

"Does he ever want to settle down?"

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

"How long has he been traveling?"

I tell them what I know and that the rest hopefully can be answered in the film. They seem excited: "Definitely send us a copy when you finish it." Well, I have at least three certain viewers. 

The road now hugs a very steep slope on the northern side of the valley and as we come around a bend we can see a large crescent all the way to the next sharp bend half a kilometer ahead. In the middle of the crescent a couple of cars have stopped and there are a dozen people doing something just above the road. As we approach, I see another three jeeps stopped in the opposite direction near the next bend, about 300 meters away. Suddenly, I see the reason for all this traffic congestion -- a 10 meter section of the road is completely gone, taken by a landslide. There are worryingly large cracks in the road near the collapse. I grab the camera and walk almost to the edge. The drop is at least half a kilometer. I hear yells to be careful and step back. The people above the collapse are digging into the slope. At first I wonder if they're trying to fill the bottomless pit, but as Nico picks up a shovel to help them, I realize that they are simply carving a niche that can be used as a bypass.

We ask around and are told that it's about a 20 minute walk to the cave, so we decide to park and hike the rest of the way. The road is gently sloping down so it's not a difficult decision. Alan and Nico forge ahead, while I stay behind to chat with Nano.

"You walk slow, too?" he asks.

"I can walk slow or I can walk fast. But it's a beautiful day, so there's no reason to hurry."

"That's what I say, but they always walk so fast and then say that I walk too slow," he complains with a comical air.

"I'm sure the truth is somewhere in between."

He asks me what movies I like. I tell him a few and mention that in recent years some of the most interesting ones have come from South America and that's why I am very excited to come here to work with the Waygoer. Nano sounds surprised that I should like films from a place I don't really know, but suggests an Argentinean movie whose name and director he can't remember. At this point we catch up to Alan and Nico, who are waiting for us. Before us, on a small plateau next to the road is a football pitch surrounded by houses, clearly to prevent the ball from falling into the ravine below. The pitch looks a perfect green and Nico says that he'd much rather go and play a game than go to the cave. There are no takers, so we push on.

An hour into our 20-minute hike, we come across a sign: Grota San Pedro. On the sign there's a picture of a man in a cave with gigantic bat flying overhead. At this gruesome sight, Nano lets off a shriek and machine-guns something in Spanish. Apparently, our friend suffers from self-diagnosed ratophobia. I personally would like to meet someone suffering from ratophonia, while Alan and Nico find the situation endlessly amusing. Ultimately, it's probably all my fault since I failed to disclose my discussion with Alex from the hotel in La Paz, who had told me about the bats. I try to reassure Nano, by retelling Alex's story about how he never saw a bat in the cave, though on one of the pictures his friends took, there was a bat right next to somebody's face. Nano does not at all look reassured, but we've already walked too far to turn back and at least now we know we're in the right direction.

Another 40 minutes hiking in the sun and I can sense a "what have you gotten us into" air about the boys. That's when we finally find a sign painted on a stone under a shrub indicating that we need to get off the road and climb a small trail to the cave. We must be close. By now, even I can't keep up with Nano's slow pace, so I go ahead with Alan and Nico, while Nano hits the 1kph cruise control button.

Finally in front of the Grota San Pedro, we decide to wait for the laggard, which gives us time to read all the signs posted at the front gate. "The cave is 480 meters long. There's a lake that's 400 meters deep" -- that's pretty impressive! And "No moleste los murcielagos!" -- my personal favorite. I can only hope there's a similar sign inside the cave: "No moleste los humanos!"

Nano finally makes it and immediately lunges for the restroom. There's a distant thunder and a nagging feeling about where we left the car starts gnawing at me, but I give it no external expression. The entrance fee is $2 for foreigners, which is a lot by Bolivian standards, so I let my Argentinean friends haggle with the voluptuous cashier and the reluctant guide. Finally, they settle on $1.25, Nano emerges triumphant from the restroom and our little expedition enters the cave. 

As soon as we crouch through the entrance passage, several bats start fluttering around. Nano almost has a heart attack, while Alan and Nico start urging me to film the ensuing comedy. Nano has decided that the most important part of his body is his face and ears so he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing most of his upper body and starts stumbling around on the slippery wet rocks. 

The smell is heavy and unpleasant and the temperature is pushing 80F. The lake turns out to be 4.00 meters deep -- not quite as impressive. Even the bats go into hiding. After the guide gives us the grand tour and we mostly avoid grievous cave injuries, we are more than happy to get back out into the fresh air.

The walk back up the mountain to the car is mostly uneventful, except for an anorexic bull which for a moment thinks about charging in Nico's direction and then decides it's too much of an effort. Most of the way I march with Alan and Nico, the nagging thought of the car at the bottom of the ravine pushing me forward. We round the bend and... the car is where we left it. However, something else catches my attention. A large truck, 20 people in it, is driving over the newly dug bypass above the collapsed section of the road. The three of us look on in disbelief at both the speed with which the bypass was built and the audacity of the truck driver who barely slows down.

We get to the car completely exhausted, but we still have to wait for Nano who is taking his sweet time up the road. I decide to make the U-turn before he arrives, so that we're ready to go. Alan jumps out of the car to make sure we have no problems. As he does, the front of the car is pointing straight into the abyss. I put it in reverse and hit the gas. The car lurches forward! I hit the break and take a breath. Nico, next to me, says nothing. Let's try this again. I make sure I am in reverse, give it a lot more gas and release the parking brake. For a blink I feel the car tethering on the edge, but then it moves backwards.  I let off a sign of relief, look at Nico and say, "Nico, you're a brave man!" He laughs, but I can sense the release of tension in his voice. We shake hands as Alan gets in, oblivious to what just happened. Finally, Captain Slow arrives and we take off for Sorata.

The disk in the CD player is Frederico Aubele, my favorite porteño singer. My Argentineans have no idea who he is. They have no idea who Gotan Project are either, and have never heard of the Thievery Corporation. Clearly, my ideas about what young people in Buenos Aires listen to needs to change. I offer to play the only Bulgarian CD I have -- rap music from Upsurt. My compañeros get excited and soon we're rocking the Bulgarian version of Y Tu Mama Tambien on the dusty back roads of Bolivia. I feel great and even shift up to third.

In the evening my new friends invite me to dinner they're going to cook. We go to the bottom of the ranch, where in the darkness we try building a fire from the wet trees and shrubs. It's hard but Alan, the fire specialist, does a stellar job. From Bolivia he's heading back to school so he's teaching the fiery arts to Nico, who will continue onto Brazil together with Nano.

Meanwhile, Nano appears late as ever, only to be confronted by the new nickname Alan and Nico have happily accepted on his behalf. From now on Nano will be known as Captain Slow. He smiles and says "Ahh, but why slow?" to an audience of three unable to catch our breath with laughter. The laughs continue until the boys finish every last morsel of pasta. We say good night and hope to see you soon somewhere in the world. The next morning at 7 , I'm heading back to La Paz and the Waygoer.