We are about to land. I am peering through holes in a blanket of white at row on row of hunchback peaks and ridges with attitude. They don’t look very welcoming to the farmers who are the majority of people in this country.
But now, as we dip below the clouds, I see valley bottoms and mountain hillsides green with produce that will soon be harvested. Rivers that seemed completely dry a minute ago have thin streams that shimmer like silver. They make me think about the veins of shiny ore that once made this region Bolivia’s wealthiest.
Didn’t I read a quote recently about how enough silver was pulled out of these highlands to build a solid bridge from here to Madrid? 2 Self-interest dressed in development apparel has an all too extensive history in these magnificent highlands. Plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose!