Leaving CochaB

There was Cristo hill running, there was article writing, and there was partying. We went out every night - karaoke Tuesday, (damn good) Japanese food in Brazilian Coffee Wednesday, and on Thursday a meal in the best restaurant in town before hitting La Tirana and of course Pimientas for some more flashing bracelets and glowsticks.

But my last week in Cochabamba was dominated by bad news for Jen. I was chatting with Ximena, my TAPA supervisor, on Wednesday, and it turned out that she is, or used to be, good friends with Jen's 37-year-old Bolivian boyfriend Ronnie. Only she told me that Roni was in fact 42 and engaged to a very young Bolivian girl. I couldn't believe it. Ronnie was more than just Jen's boyfriend, he was her world. Working and living in a country with a different culture and where the people speak a different language means she had no really good girl friends. Of course the TAPA volunteers become her friends, but they come and go. So she depended on Ronnie. They didn't live together, but plenty of her stuff was at his house, and she spent most nights there. I didn't really know what to do, so I asked Gail. She always seems to know what to do in awkward emotional situations. Of course I had to tell her, but how and when? I made sure with Ximena that all this was really true before deciding to tell her on Friday, two days after I found out. Thursday was no good - it was Ronnie's birthday. So that meant a long time of torture, spending time with Jen knowing that her world was about to fall apart - and also knowing that I'd have to tell her on my last day. Jen, here's some truly awful news that will turn your life upside down, but I have to go now bye bye.

Jen arrived at the house for lunch on Friday upset. It turned out that Jen had hardly seen Ronnie until the previous night in Dali's, his bar, where he got very drunk and spent the evening chatting with his friends, so Jen felt rejected, understandably. There wasn't a option but to tell her then. Obviously, she was a whole mixture of emotions and thoughts, and not a happy one, but I was so impressed at how she dealt with what I had to tell her. I'm sure I would have hated the world and been pretty angry in general, but not Jen. I persuaded her to come to La Paz that weekend with me and Jack so that we could help her take her mind of things and get some space from Cochabamba.

That Friday I had to say goodbye to Amy, Kevan and Gail, who were going to Salar de Uyuni. I'm sure I'll see Gail again. I'll go and find her in Wagamamas in Manchester when I get back. And maybe I'll see Kevan and Amy too. I managed to pack in about an hour, despite a power cut that meant I had to do it by candlelight for about 20 minutes. Just about made it. I said my goodbyes to the family and Vicky, who were having some sort of birthday party that night and were a little distracted. Although they didn't get round to opening them, they seemed appreciative of my presents.

Nationwide miners' strikes since Tuesday meant we nearly didn't get to La Paz, but fortunately the problem (whatever it was) was resolved in time for the weekend. The weather was miserable. It was cold and rainy - snowing in El Alto - but we had a great few days and hopefully cheered Jen up a bit. We had a lot of good food, perused the artesania in the cobbled streets of the witches markets, visited a few museums, and took a bus to the Valley of the Moon, a touristy attraction just outside La Paz with a strange rocky landscape that does seem reminiscent of the moon. Jack braved a dodgy looking hairdressers for a long overdue cut, and came out with a mullet. I had fun trying to tidy it up with my little pair of scissors I'd saved from a Christmas cracker. We said goodbye to Jen twice, as heavy snow meant that the first attempt to get a bus to Cochabamba failed. By early Monday morning it was just me, Jack, and the prospect of climbing a big mountain in a few days.