Today i went to Bolivia's Palacio de Gobierno (which, i've been referring to as Evo's house, but he doesn't actually live there) & Plaza Murillo (named after Pedro Domingo Murillo).
It was a nice sunny afternoon (as seems to be the norm here) and there were a lot of families out and about, as well as some strangely-clad, dreadlocked traveler types. Many of the women were in polleras, and I'm beginning to think that maybe all this about the pollera is over-emphasizing its importance. Certainly, clothing is always a choice, and expresses certain things about both individuality and collectivity. It is both constituitive of and influenced by identity. Of course. But i'm not sure a pollera has any more significance than my green chucks.
...but back to the plaza. There were lots of shoe-shine boys (who all wear ski masks), young bolivian teens selling books, and ice cream and jello vendors. There were also a few vendedoras selling balloons and inflatable balls. One (wearing a pollera) was fairly near me, and an older german guy kept trying to take her picture with his giant camera. She clearly did not like this. She kept turning away, and pulling her hat down over her face. But this dude in his cargo pants, hiking vest, and stupid hat was persistent. It was kind of making me mad, so I decided I would take his picture. Here it is....
Sure, who the hell am i to be acting as karma, and i'm sure he a) wouldn't care that i took his picture and b) will probably never know, but i thought i'd try to objectify him a bit.
later, i got pooped on by a pigeon. it was green and slimy. and older dutch guy sitting next to me also got hit, and we started a little conversation. but after we both got hit a second time, we decided the spot was too dangerous and both left. but that's supposed to be lucky, right?
Tomorrow I'm off to take some pictures (but hopefully not objectify any more than they want me to) the luchadoras in El Alto. 4 1/2 years in the making....
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