A Day in the Life of Chaos

La Paz, Bolivia Humans always seem to be going some where.  It can be in reality or simply in our minds.  One way or the other we all seem to be making a journey.  Many of my titles I use for my blogs are hyperbole.  This is most certainly not one of them.  The road has been profiled in numerous adventure shows symbolizing a level of obscene terror.  It is the kind of place that people in suburban America will look at, gasp and wonder why in the hell anyone would ever journey down it.  At some point during my tenure in Bolivia it was my pleasure or misfortune depending on your perspective to experience it with my father and my neurotic Jew friend Ira.  Bolivia is an odd place that often defies explanation.  Things that shouldn't be are and things that are shouldn't be.  When the Spanish first ventured into the area and encountered the remnants of the Incan and Aymara civilizations on the shores of Lake Titicaca they decided to build a city.  It would be a grand city and

Outpost Trinidad Part II.... Continued.... Day to day life in Trinidad meant the constant search for clean food.  This at times was a challenge as shipments form other parts of the country were irregular at best.  The decision was essentially find something and have a maid at the house cook it for you or play Russian roulette at a restaurant.  One experience that always brought a smile to my face was the hunt for chicken.  There are no supermarkets in Trinidad so when chicken was desired you had to pass by the chicken store.  In Trinidad this meant a visit to Pollos Imba.  Pollos Imba sold one thing, chicken.  The problem was that they only had chicken about 30 percent of the time.  The rest of the time the Pollos Imba girls simply hung out and responded to clients queries.  Typically it involved driving up in front of the store and rolling down the window.  Looking into the open front door you would catch the eye of the attendant. "Hay Pollo?"   You would sh

Alfredo (L) Me on (R) Today is the last day at work for one of my best friends.   He is not so old, 53 I think.  Despite his relative youth, in the world of special agents and law enforcement personnel, a special deal is made.  They are allowed to retire with only 20 years of service.   This is largely because the years of long hours and professional stress are expected to take their toll on the body and cause many to die younger.   Being a civil service person but not an agent I need to have 30 years of service and be nearly 57 years of age before I can walk away.  In the overall scheme of things it is still a great deal.  This in a world where many people today wonder if they will ever be able to retire.  I think about this every time I see an elderly woman serving fast food at Chick-fila or an elderly man bagging groceries at the Publix. When you think about it, we spend most of our lives working.  Over the years many of us spend more time with our co-workers than we ever do w