Everything about this country is high. The record books are filled with such adjectives of this landlocked Andean country. Highest capital, airport, golf course, ski run and just about anything a desperate tourism board can conjure up. With the bikes wheezing and our lungs doing little better we struggled into the valley of La Paz at over 11,000ft. A fitting place to switch out the new frame sent from Kawasaki. Though after a day of crawling through the worst traffic of our trip the thrill of such heights quickly wore thin.
Fortunately the bike shop holding the frame was tucked away just south of town in the upper class neighborhood. Feeling a bit guilty at enjoying rather unlatin surroundings, I quietly marveled at the Mercedes and BMW's parked amid the chic, modern coffee shops. Feels just like Seattle. Sipping a latte in such scenery, it took a conscious effort to remember this is one of the poorest countries in South America.
Though when it comes to motorcycle shops in Latin America money equals expertise, no matter what people tell you. Yes, I read all the stories of Mexican ingenuity and shade tree mechanics. It's all fine and rosy until its your bike under the torch of a drunk Bolivian. Though, rolling the KLR into the spacious shop of the local bike shop I knew something was different. For the first time in nearly a dozen countries I would actually trust my bike to these mechanics without a keeping watchful eye.
When the owner of the shop rolled up in a Jaguar a sigh of relief escaped into the thin air. Within a few hours of beginning the project I made it thoroughly clear whose intelligence was lacking. And it certainly wasn't the natives. Propping the new frame beside the disassembled bike my joy turned to despair as I realized Kawasaki had inadvertently sent the wrong frame.
Once again too shocked for anger, laugher instead welled up from the sheer absurdity of the situation. Unbelievable. After 10 minutes or so of contemplations and imagining the phone call to Kawasaki, I hollered over to the shop owner to take a look. Three or four chin scratching minutes later Walter came to a startling and profound conclusion. With a quick spin of metal he flipped the new frame upside down, leaving nothing but utter embarrassment as the shiny steel chassis suddenly fit perfectly. Bizarre. The only consolation provided was the fact it took a national champion a couple minutes to dismiss my foolishness. I shutter at the thought of having called Kawasaki.
After three days of blood, sweat and toil the bike was somehow restored to its former glory. Besides fabricating a custom new bearing race for the suspension, the process went off without a hitch. Almost too easily, as we sparked the engine and warily drove off, praying that every bolt found its place once again. Of course this city of altitude had unfinished business to settle and less than an hour out of the shop Steve´s clutch blew a hole, dumping its blood red contents among the crevasses of the engine case. How much more, we pondered, a whisper of defeat growing like storm clouds in the distance. A month to go and the problems fail to cease.
During our last evening in La Paz we found an orphanage that once again raised our spirits. Clean, inviting and well disciplined the project is part of a large organization based out of Spain currently operating in 50 countries. Sipping tea to ward off the bitting cold, a Bolivian worker passionately laid before us his vision and plans. Though most of us would feel quite comfortable in our charitable efforts to simply volunteer occasionally, this young Bolivian has dedicated his entire life.
The organization also uses a unique method to encourage a self-sustaining cycle. New orphanages initially receive 100% of the necessary funds to jump start the project. Thereafter, as the location becomes established, the local community steadily covers more and more costs, in 10% increments each year. The final stage involves complete financial independence with extra funds supporting new orphanages starting elsewhere.
Hearing about the common factors that bring kids to the orphanage was a painful experience. Physical and sexual abuse rank high among the list, in large part a result of broken families. The typical scenario involves a young man producing several kids, then moving on to another woman, leaving many mothers with numerous kids from different fathers. In many occasions the father has very little concern or respect for the children produced by the previous men. Thus abuse runs rampant as the fathers justify the actions through the belief that kids are not their own.