Altiplano

"The roof of the Land Cruiser 4x4 is loaded with a dozen rolls of vinyl in primary colors. It also carries, firmly attached with elastic bands, picks and shovels, ropes, luggage. Carlos, our pilot, is a man of optimistic and easy laugh. Mestizo from Los Yungas, with cheeks pricked by remote juvenile acnes, while driving he likes to go explaining mysteries of the Bolivian soul or recounting rather intimate moments of his life. Andean drums and panpipes escape intermittently from the car radio, crackling of static. Scarlett is traveling in the back seat, somewhat sleepy from the flu. Behind her are Evaristo and Carlitos, stocky and silent Aymara boys. They are to assist her in carrying out a couple of works in the Salar de Uyuni, our desolate point of destination". Thus begins the journey narrated here. The journey -the true one, the abrasive one- increases the friction between the Self and the World to incandescence. Bolivia. Five weeks of stumbling and stumbling through the stony Altiplano, and two decades to sift, assimilate and do literary justice to what has been lived.