Essay 7 Fun and Games in South America

Essay 7
FUN AND GAMES IN SOUTH AMERICA

When Addie Leah and I made our first trip around the world, in 1973, we did a number of unusual things, mostly because we chose to go around in the southern hemisphere. People mostly don't do that, even today. We inevitably scheduled a number of legs on once-a-week flights, and record keeping being what it was in those days, every flight was chancy!

Having traveled in South America a few years earlier, I was well aware of the chaos there, and the value of a North American talisman. One was a computer print-out of our itinerary showing all of our confirmed flights on Braniff International Airways. Because this was available only in Dallas, it was looked upon with something close to awe by those in the South American Trade. Another was an embossed notarized statement from a bank or credit union saying that you were considered a good customer. Such a document, especially if you combined it with a blue ribbon, was worth plenty!--and never mind that it was worthless at home! I discovered in Guatemala, San Salvador, Costa Rica, Panama, and Ecuador that when you produced your ticket at the airline counter, the agent was invariably sorry, but that flight was full. And it really was full, too! End of conversation! Well, not really the end if you showed cash in your wallet. However, I would then produce the computer printout, showing that we had confirmed reservations, and ask to see the manager. He would "understand", and ask us to wait. I would mention that I was aware that, having confirmed reservations, when passage was denied I was entitled to $200 ($100 per person), free hotels until the next flight, etc., etc. In those days $200 was a vast sum in S.A. so that would get the desired attention. We would then be given boarding passes. Somebody else would of course be told "sorry". So I became fairly confident that my scheme would always work as planned.

We were now in La Paz, Bolivia, ready to depart for Buenos Aires. At the counter, the usual happened, although Boliviano airline agents can be excessively nasty. I think they have to be, what with so many people always trying to flee the country. In those days the government, ever in the process of having just been overthrown, or just now being overthrown, was not something to talk about in public. Anyway, at the appropriate moment in the debate, I asked to see the manager. He notes the printout with the usual appreciation, but is craftier than most, and lets me know, rather explicitly, that the plane is overbooked by a good many, and that some of us will not be boarding for as I recall there were thirty-four of us ready to board.

It is now that I spring my knowledge about the money owed, but not just for Addie Leah and me. I start talking about $3400! After a few minutes of silence, the manager reached for the phone, called the control tower, and directed them to radio the plane not to land, but to overfly La Paz!

Now the rule about the money only applies after the plane has landed! So by bringing up this little matter too soon (I had not checked to see if the plane was there--a dumb, stupid error, and not one that I have made since!) The horror of it all could not be absorbed quickly! A week's delay in a trip around the world--reservations, hotels, everything down the drain! And I had done it to myself! My face must have been something to watch, for my Boliviano Banditto friend was grinning ear to ear. Without trying to think the matter through, I said "You've got me!" At this he was absolutely delighted--a gringo admitting defeat!

I began to recover in a minute or so, and had the smarts to ask about alternatives. Is there any way around this problem? How about flights from La Paz to somewhere, and then to Buenos Aires? Or could we charter a plane, or could we go back to Peru? I think mostly because he was still enjoying his triumph so, and because I had taken defeat a bit graciously, he seemed willing to help. After some conversation he asked us to return in two hours, and he'd see what he could do. I notified the others who were waiting about the delay, but failed to explain to them why the plane was not landing.

We returned in two hours and learned that he thought he would be able to rent a plane from the Bolivian Air Force, and have us flown to Asuncion, Paraguay, where we could fly on an Air-Paraguay plane to Argentina. They were trying to find the pilots, who were in town somewhere in a bar. Since they were in a bar, it would not be proper to ask them to fly today. But if we could return the next day, all would be well! To my surprise, we were given hotels for the night at no cost to us.

The following morning, early, 28 of the 34 were at the airport. After telling Addie Leah that I was sure the pilots had been trained by Peace Corps volunteers, I was forced to recant and promised never to joke like that again. When they were pointed out to me, I found that they were U.S. trained, had been cadets at the Air Force Academy, and were presumably as good as any others, even if they were recent bar devotees. I had joined them for breakfast, and we had a great conversation. They knew about Los Alamos, etc, and all about New Mexico, too--not many pilots in New York would be able to say that. I was reasonably comfortable with the thought that things would be OK again. We left La Paz, finally, for Paraguay in an old Convair, one of a kind we hadn't seen in the U.S. for some years.

For some months before the trip, I had poured over the itinerary and air schedules trying to mesh them such that we could go to those places that, for whatever reason, obscure or not, I had determined that I wanted to see. Included on my “must” list had been Santa Cruz, Bolivia, famous as the place where Che Guevara was killed. It is located in the low lying jungles of Bolivia, and is quite different from the area around La Paz, where the airport is at l3,000 feet. Well, it turned out that the weekly flight to Santa Cruz left the day prior to any arrival time I could find for La Paz. So I had given up, very reluctantly, on seeing Santa Cruz.

Because of the altitude the La Paz runway is exceeding long, and when a plane takes off one sees it still on the runway when it goes over the hill and out of sight. When we took off from La Paz we never climbed in altitude at all, but flew down canyons, around rocks, ever downward, until an hour or so later we landed in Santa Cruz to refuel! Santa Cruz is only about a thousand feet high. All's well that ends well!

I suppose no story can really end in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. We went on to Paraguay, where we had an exciting time over passports and visas because we arrived on a military aircraft. We finally arrived in Buenos Aires a day late, but with remaining reservations intact. Incidentally, while we were at our hotel there, Juan Peron, again Argentina's President arrived at the next building. Security was impressive, and I was pleased to cross paths with one of the world's truly awful dictators.)

One additional problem: When we arrived back in Asuncion, Paraguay, back on our initial itinerary, we discovered that our Visas were no good, for they had been “used” for our unexpected arrival on the way to Argentina. But there we were, and after much waving of arms and shouting all around, we were not imprisoned, nor did I pay a bribe! I have never failed to be self righteous about bribes, and usually adopt the position that I don’t have any ideal at all in what they are talking about. I frequently got away with it, but not always.