$675 for the opportunity to puke

Besides our time in Lijiang, China and Lhasa, Tibet most of our trip as been at or close to sea level. Because of this our bodies are accustomed to having fewer red blood cells while consuming oxygen and I know that my body likes it that way. So knowing that we were spending the night in the La Paz airport at close to 13,000 feet we did our best to prepare our bodies for this shock. Little did we know we were also in for another shock compliments of Bolivian Immigration.
We left Argentina on an hour long 9:00am flight to Santa Cruz. Had a nice chat with a plastic surgeon from Italy working with Operation Smile. He told me that all US citizens entering Bolivia are required to get a visa on arrival - one-hundred thirty-five US dollars. With plenty of misplaced confidence I told him that we were transiting through on our way to Peru and in Bolivia less than twenty-four hours so we wouldn't be charged the visa fee.

We left the plane and funneled our way through the immigration line for transit travelers. The agent looked over our documents several times with a curious look. All five of us stood their patiently and quietly. Then in his best English he informed us that we had to pay the visa fee!

Totally convinced he didn't understand our travel plans due to his lack of proficient English I proceeded to explain again slowly and with very elementary words. He listened politely and then explained that since we have a five hour layover in Santa Cruz, a flight to La Paz and a 7 hour overnight layover there we will have exceeded the 8 hours (I was expecting 24 hours)allowed for transit passengers. He also went on to say that because one leg of our trip was a domestic flight he was required to process us into Bolivia no matter how long our layover.

That last fact made it all click for Robert and with a humble look accepted our fate.

Me, not so much. My not so pretty emotions were running high. With tears welling in my eyes I stormed off to the ladies bathroom, locked myself in a stall and broke down crying which is not really my style. I was still participating in my personal pity party when Robert came to the door of the ladies room and gently told me we need to pay the $675USD and proceed through. I would have rather continued my temper tantrum in the Bolivian bathroom but sensibility prevailed.

The customs agent graciously escorted me to the ATM to get the required $675 in US dollars chatting with me along the way trying to make me feel better. He was being sweet but it didn't really work, I was still ANGRY handing over $675 just to hang out in two Bolivian airports!

Our five hours in the Santa Cruz airport was at least productive. I further refined my family/classroom management skills by getting the boys to pull out their school books while Robert caught up on work.

Happy to be leaving Santa Cruz on our way to La Paz.

***
We arrived in La Paz around 10:00pm and discovered the coolest Subway sandwich restaurant. Leather couches with coffee tables, internet stations, swanky music and a calm soothing atmosphere. It was open only two more hours so we took full advantage of the comfort knowing the rest of our night would be spent trying to sleep in lousy airport chairs.

Taylor getting comfy as Cameron and I chill on the leather couch.

At midnight we were politely asked to leave and found a bank of chairs without the armrests so stretching out for the night was possible. We all unpacked our sleeping sheets, grabbed anything that would become some semblance of a pillow and laid down our heads.

Our La Paz airport accommodations. Doing well before hell.

Two hours into what we thought would be a fairly restful nights sleep the horror began. First, Cameron woke up with a splitting headache and spilled his lunch in the nearest trash can. Next it was my turn to leave a part of me in Bolivia. The two of our bodies decided one time was not enough, it needed to remind us five times how much it abhorred being at 13,000 feet and was doing everything it knew how to tell us to GET DOWN TO SEA LEVEL NOW!

Robert was our savior that night. He stayed awake taking care of us as our bodies revolted. Further into the early morning Ryan and Taylor's bodies decided they had enough oxygen deprivation too and communicated with them the same way Cameron and I were experiencing. Only neither one of them made it to the designated trash can in time. Boy did I feel sorry for the airport janitors.

NO PHOTOS OF US FILLING THE TRASH CANS AND MESSING THE FLOOR BUT IT'S VIVIDLY ETCHED IN MY MEMORY.
When the airport shops opened, Robert bought coca tea, coca candies and some sort of medicine that help with altitude sickness. Then the airport medic came to our rescue with straight up oxygen for us to inhale. What a treat. Our bodies were backing down now, relenting, giving up, accepting their fate of being at altitude for the next month.

We were all well enough to board our 8:30am flight to Cusco, Peru which was two-thousand feet lower than La Paz. 11,000 feet above sea level never looked so good.
I have to say it was without a doubt one of the worst nights in my life! So knowing that we will be in Vail, Colorado (8,000 ft) at the end of our trip, I stocked up on coca tea and candies for that part of our journey. No one wants a repeat of La Paz.

So happy to be in Cusco at only 11,000 feet elevation.