A village

A village. A big one, but a village. Packed with cars and buildings, with the most modern of modernity, with big brands’ stores, with rich and exclusive neighborhoods. But still a village, filled with simple people who wander the streets of this big city indifferent to its size, living as if they were in just another Andean village, with the same clothes and simple habits lived for centuries, with only the occasional cell phone breaking the slow walk that prevents them from drowning in the lack of oxygen caused by altitude. A village of markets and churches and streets filled with people and colors and houses hanging from the walls of the valley that surrounds it, houses piled on top of each other, village over village, the many villages that constitute this big village of simple people. Village also filled with tourists, many of them strangers to it, living inside bubbles of westernization, from which they only come out when it’s time to leave, leaving without ever experiencing the true taste of this village, of its people, the true essence of La Paz. A village, where my rushed walk leaves me breathless, maybe because I let myself be fooled by its big city look, forgetting that after all I’m in a village, and in villages there is no reason to rush...








La Paz, Bolivia, August 2009