theme no, this will not be +100,000 words
well, i had this brilliant idea that this update's theme would just be pictures, seeing as how i hadn't sent you all any yet and as i've probably bombarded you all enough with words thus far. as it would happen, though, over a hundred or so pictures i'd taken on a friend's camera over the last few weeks were tragically erased ... so you're stuck with words for now. (but i will send pictures as soon as i can.)
hello rainy season good bye illimani
hmm. i have to admit, i forgot about this when i was packing to come down here. it's not strictly summer here, but rainy season. basically, this means that when it's sunny here, it's about in the 70s or 80s (although it's more draining since the sun is so intensely felt), and when it rains, 1) it's around 50 and 2) it pours. on the rainy days, traffic routes are routinely altered because certain roads are washed out, although the road you end up taking is so covered with water sprinting downhill that you hydroplane anyway. it's about a half and half split between rainy and sunny days, much like seattle in the spring, i'd say. i love it, personally (i couldn't handle a sweltering, santa cruz-style summer), although my wide-brimmed felt hat has been smelling a lot like wet dog lately. and the clouds cover up illimani regularly, too, which is sad. this will last until february/march.
well, i had this brilliant idea that this update's theme would just be pictures, seeing as how i hadn't sent you all any yet and as i've probably bombarded you all enough with words thus far. as it would happen, though, over a hundred or so pictures i'd taken on a friend's camera over the last few weeks were tragically erased ... so you're stuck with words for now. (but i will send pictures as soon as i can.)
hello rainy season good bye illimani
hmm. i have to admit, i forgot about this when i was packing to come down here. it's not strictly summer here, but rainy season. basically, this means that when it's sunny here, it's about in the 70s or 80s (although it's more draining since the sun is so intensely felt), and when it rains, 1) it's around 50 and 2) it pours. on the rainy days, traffic routes are routinely altered because certain roads are washed out, although the road you end up taking is so covered with water sprinting downhill that you hydroplane anyway. it's about a half and half split between rainy and sunny days, much like seattle in the spring, i'd say. i love it, personally (i couldn't handle a sweltering, santa cruz-style summer), although my wide-brimmed felt hat has been smelling a lot like wet dog lately. and the clouds cover up illimani regularly, too, which is sad. this will last until february/march.
día de acción de gracias thanksgiving, o-blivia style
three years ago, i spent thanksgiving here in la paz, actually, treating myself to a lovely meal at a japanese restaurant, by myself. (i'd gotten two key interviews right at the end of my research project and had jetted up to the city for less than 48 hours, much less time to find americans with whom to celebrate.)
this year, i did better. roommate and i hosted a great thanksgiving dinner that included 4 americans, 3 bolivians, and 3 brits. i will say that it was not all that pretty, by any means (the kitchen was a disaster afterwards), but it was tasty and fun. even the turkey turned out. and actually, the table was pretty, complete with woven blanket tablecloths, candles, and namecards. other menu items included pumpkin soup, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, sweet bread, currant jelly (my friend scoured the city for cranberry sauce to no avail), pumpkin pie, apple tart, and cheesecake. we even went around and said what we were thankful for. (mom and dad, you should be proud we're keeping the tradition alive, however corny it may be.) everybody really liked it, especially the people who were new to the whole thing, i.e. the bolivians and brits. i swear, all we needed were pilgrim and indian outfits (and some other third group), and the modern reincarnation of the first thanksgiving in all its glorious cultural exchange would've been complete (or so we'd like to think), although i duly hope a cultural extermination won't follow in coming years. the one thing that got nixed due to lack of more americans was a turkey bowl, as we were in no mood to explain downs in spanish, much less convert yards to meters. next time.
this land was your land now this land is everybody's land
most people who are in charge of monitoring bolivia from abroad love to focus on evo's nationalization of the gas reserves as the big, exciting chapter in the Tales of Bolivia's Crazy Socialist President series. (my one friend's editors, for example, regularly ask him how, rarely if, story x that he's proposing has any relation to gas. his response, "um, no, not really," usually dampens the editors' interest.) most of us who are here, however, would say the far more interesting of evo's policies has to do with land reform.
one of evo's campaign promises last december was to address the question of unequal land ownership and "redistribute," i.e. take from the rich and give to the poor, those lands, let's say ... the lands the rich don't need, and a lot of it too: one fifth of the country's total area, or a territory about the size of nebraska. the catholic church did a study a few years ago and found that 50,000 families own 90% of the land. then, i couldn't find the exact stat, but we can crudely break it down this way: the average bolivian woman has three children so we'll say average family has 5 people (family structures here and still largely traditional), and bolivia has just under 9,000,000 citizens, so this works out to just under 3% of the population owning 90% of the land. even if you estimate these families at 20-25 people each, it's still about 12-15% of the population owning 90%. (but please don't quote me on that stat.)
the logic with the whole idea of land reform is this: if there is this handful of wealthy families who are just sitting on the majority of their lands but not using them, and there are huge swathes of poor campesinos who don't have land to use or farm, or any other significant means to make a living for that matter, you should give the land the rich people aren't using to the poor people so that they can make a living for themselves in this country of virtually nil economic opportunity. totally robin hood.
the nationalization of the gas reserves, arguably, was not really that socialist of a policy. the whole thing, in the end, resulted in the renegotiation of existing contracts, which all companies already here re-signed (no one left) and were legally signed into effect on sunday morning. it was much more a policy of economic necessity since the previous contracts were so skewed in favor of the foreign companies that they provided almost no benefit to the bolivian economy, much less development of any market infrastructure, completely defeating the purpose of trying to inject foreign capital and investment into an economy. (most countries charge 50% tax on directly exported natural resources; norway charges 78%. bolivia had been charging 18%, and virtually zero of that paltry amount of that actually ended up in the bolivian economy, most of it in the hands of government officials. the last figures i saw had it back at 50%, with the possibility of going to 82%, i.e. try and compensate for what bolivia lost when the foreign companies got 82% and give the foreign companies the 18% share.)
land reform, on the other hand, you could easily say is a very purely leftist policy. in any other country, where there was even a basic sense of equal opportunity, this could never be pulled off. in bolivia, on the other hand, a country where anybody off the street will be able to express to you just how strong the sentiments of historic exploitation and disenfranchisement (over 400-500 years) among the bolivian people are, can an idea like this actually contend. true to habit, in the evocation of symbolism and history, these large landowners, whose names and pictures were widely publicized by evo & co., were called latifundistas, essentially, the latin american equivalent of a plantation owner. (the latifundio is/was a type of feudal estate, like haciendas, in latin america, but much longer lasting, especially in brazil.) and the idea here is that, for as long as these latifundios continue to exist, the vestigial colonial inequality and repression of the poor by the rich are perpetuated.
leading up to last week, opposition senators (bolivia's senate has 27 members), mainly from the party podemos from the east, where all the land in question is, had been boycotting the senate, where podemos has a majority, in a move to block the legislation. evo had even threatened to discard the senate entirely and just go with the house of representatives, which mas controls, in response to the boycott. then, last tuesday, after some intense special sessions of the senate, and some apparently dubious legal maneuvering, the senate actually passed the land reform bill.
.
this year, i did better. roommate and i hosted a great thanksgiving dinner that included 4 americans, 3 bolivians, and 3 brits. i will say that it was not all that pretty, by any means (the kitchen was a disaster afterwards), but it was tasty and fun. even the turkey turned out. and actually, the table was pretty, complete with woven blanket tablecloths, candles, and namecards. other menu items included pumpkin soup, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, sweet bread, currant jelly (my friend scoured the city for cranberry sauce to no avail), pumpkin pie, apple tart, and cheesecake. we even went around and said what we were thankful for. (mom and dad, you should be proud we're keeping the tradition alive, however corny it may be.) everybody really liked it, especially the people who were new to the whole thing, i.e. the bolivians and brits. i swear, all we needed were pilgrim and indian outfits (and some other third group), and the modern reincarnation of the first thanksgiving in all its glorious cultural exchange would've been complete (or so we'd like to think), although i duly hope a cultural extermination won't follow in coming years. the one thing that got nixed due to lack of more americans was a turkey bowl, as we were in no mood to explain downs in spanish, much less convert yards to meters. next time.
this land was your land now this land is everybody's land
most people who are in charge of monitoring bolivia from abroad love to focus on evo's nationalization of the gas reserves as the big, exciting chapter in the Tales of Bolivia's Crazy Socialist President series. (my one friend's editors, for example, regularly ask him how, rarely if, story x that he's proposing has any relation to gas. his response, "um, no, not really," usually dampens the editors' interest.) most of us who are here, however, would say the far more interesting of evo's policies has to do with land reform.
one of evo's campaign promises last december was to address the question of unequal land ownership and "redistribute," i.e. take from the rich and give to the poor, those lands, let's say ... the lands the rich don't need, and a lot of it too: one fifth of the country's total area, or a territory about the size of nebraska. the catholic church did a study a few years ago and found that 50,000 families own 90% of the land. then, i couldn't find the exact stat, but we can crudely break it down this way: the average bolivian woman has three children so we'll say average family has 5 people (family structures here and still largely traditional), and bolivia has just under 9,000,000 citizens, so this works out to just under 3% of the population owning 90% of the land. even if you estimate these families at 20-25 people each, it's still about 12-15% of the population owning 90%. (but please don't quote me on that stat.)
the logic with the whole idea of land reform is this: if there is this handful of wealthy families who are just sitting on the majority of their lands but not using them, and there are huge swathes of poor campesinos who don't have land to use or farm, or any other significant means to make a living for that matter, you should give the land the rich people aren't using to the poor people so that they can make a living for themselves in this country of virtually nil economic opportunity. totally robin hood.
the nationalization of the gas reserves, arguably, was not really that socialist of a policy. the whole thing, in the end, resulted in the renegotiation of existing contracts, which all companies already here re-signed (no one left) and were legally signed into effect on sunday morning. it was much more a policy of economic necessity since the previous contracts were so skewed in favor of the foreign companies that they provided almost no benefit to the bolivian economy, much less development of any market infrastructure, completely defeating the purpose of trying to inject foreign capital and investment into an economy. (most countries charge 50% tax on directly exported natural resources; norway charges 78%. bolivia had been charging 18%, and virtually zero of that paltry amount of that actually ended up in the bolivian economy, most of it in the hands of government officials. the last figures i saw had it back at 50%, with the possibility of going to 82%, i.e. try and compensate for what bolivia lost when the foreign companies got 82% and give the foreign companies the 18% share.)
land reform, on the other hand, you could easily say is a very purely leftist policy. in any other country, where there was even a basic sense of equal opportunity, this could never be pulled off. in bolivia, on the other hand, a country where anybody off the street will be able to express to you just how strong the sentiments of historic exploitation and disenfranchisement (over 400-500 years) among the bolivian people are, can an idea like this actually contend. true to habit, in the evocation of symbolism and history, these large landowners, whose names and pictures were widely publicized by evo & co., were called latifundistas, essentially, the latin american equivalent of a plantation owner. (the latifundio is/was a type of feudal estate, like haciendas, in latin america, but much longer lasting, especially in brazil.) and the idea here is that, for as long as these latifundios continue to exist, the vestigial colonial inequality and repression of the poor by the rich are perpetuated.
leading up to last week, opposition senators (bolivia's senate has 27 members), mainly from the party podemos from the east, where all the land in question is, had been boycotting the senate, where podemos has a majority, in a move to block the legislation. evo had even threatened to discard the senate entirely and just go with the house of representatives, which mas controls, in response to the boycott. then, last tuesday, after some intense special sessions of the senate, and some apparently dubious legal maneuvering, the senate actually passed the land reform bill.
.
while it might look like mas is being the difficult party, neither mas nor podemos has lately played the role of anything other than the petulant child of bolivian politics lately, both adamant in their refusal to negotiate with the other side out of sheer spite for the other. one podemos senator was expelled from the session the other day after he broke a window and fought with the guards who were trying to carry him out.
tuesday was a big day. a few thousand campesinos had been marching, some literally dozens of miles, to la paz in support of the passage of the land reform bill. i went to plaza murillo, i.e. capitol (on a) hill here, during the afternoon, talked with some people who'd marched, one who tried to set me up with his son, spent a couple hours waiting to see if evo was going to make a speech, got the word he probably wasn't, and left. the striking thing was how perfectly normal this idea of taking land from one person to give it to another was to so many of the campesinos. in talking to them, they would generally explain things almost with nonchalance: "why wouldn't you take land rich people aren't using and give it to us, the poor people, who don't have any other way to make money?" i'd wished i'd gotten to talk to some people who were against the idea, or even hesitant, but all those people are in the east, and protesting in the streets isn't really their style (although they've made some pathetically amusing attempts lately).
later that night at a late dinner, my friend called me to say that the senate had passed the land reform bill, that evo was going to sign it at 11 pm, and to hurry because they were letting people into the congressional building, which was filling up fast. i used my last bolivianos to take a cab back up there, had to run the last couple blocks because the streets surrounding the palacio del congreso had been blocked off (uphill, super intense), and arrived perfectly out of breath only to see guards holding back people who hadn't been able to get into the building itself.
not to be defeated, i went up to the door to the guards holding the crowd back with their riot shields to try and get in. they asked if i had my [press] credentials with me, i said that i'd just gotten there and i didn't have any of my things (true, although "my things" didn't involve actual press credentials, just my notebook, pen, and camera), looked exasperated/despondent (which i was, i think the running gave my cheeks more flush, only heightening my looking flustered and out of sorts), and one of the guards, probably assuming that, due my skin color and wide-brimmed hat that i had some important purpose being there, just pulled back his shield and went, "here, go on in." often, i resent being a gringa. in this case, it worked to my advantage. (although i still resented the fact that i got let in to witness the events, while others who marched got stuck outside.)
the hall was packed with campesinos in all their electric-colored traditional wear, smelled of coca that most of the marchers had been subsisting on all day as they waited and boxed fried chicken dinners with which the government had provided them that evening, and erupted in cheers when evo, alvaro (the vp), and other ministers came down the stairs to sit down, speak, and sign.
people make a big deal of evo having never worn a suit, but really, he's just the tip of the iceberg that is this administration's dress. one official got up to speak in a short-sleeve buttoned shirt and cargo pants. a minister in a sweater. a campesina leader, who'd led one of the marches all the way to la paz, in her skirt, sweater, braids, and sun hat. another campesino leader spoke in full traditional garb, complete with poncho, woven hat with ear flaps, wide-brimmed hat over that, coca bag hanging off his side, and plenty of neon colors to go around. alvaro was the only one in a suit, yet even he was sans tie. i kept thinking how few governments in the world looked like this one, and fewer still with a 67% approval rating, no less. it's refreshing, really.
evo signed the legislation, and then a slew of government officials and other leaders involved in the deal spoke. one of the speakers mentioned this being the end of decolonization. that was about the only bit i remembered, though, because by that time, it was about 12:30 a.m. and the smell of the fried chicken was making me nauseous, so i went to sit out in the hall. another woman came to sit down. turns out she was a senator and exhausted from the day (she was in heels, no less), but very satisfied and relieved the legislation had gone through and that this impasse was behind them. she said it had been an important step. she also told me that, because they were able to pass the land reform in the senate, it looked like talk of closing the senate was over. a man walked by holding the actual bill, and i asked if i could and got to hold it, just to see the ink on the page.
we went back in the room as evo was about to speak, he spoke, people cheered, and it was over. people exuberantly shook hands for a few minutes (i got to shake the land minister's hand myself), and then left to go home. it was 1 a.m. by that time.
time will tell how this all plays out practically, how hard the latifundistas will fight (there are reports they're hiring british mercenaries), how hard the politicians will defend (there is more general acceptance of the land reform, even from people in the east, than one might think), but the symbolic part of land reform, and the first step in the process has actually come about. (cf. friends' articles below for more professional reviews, i.e. more facts, less flowery details, of the events.)
tuesday was a big day. a few thousand campesinos had been marching, some literally dozens of miles, to la paz in support of the passage of the land reform bill. i went to plaza murillo, i.e. capitol (on a) hill here, during the afternoon, talked with some people who'd marched, one who tried to set me up with his son, spent a couple hours waiting to see if evo was going to make a speech, got the word he probably wasn't, and left. the striking thing was how perfectly normal this idea of taking land from one person to give it to another was to so many of the campesinos. in talking to them, they would generally explain things almost with nonchalance: "why wouldn't you take land rich people aren't using and give it to us, the poor people, who don't have any other way to make money?" i'd wished i'd gotten to talk to some people who were against the idea, or even hesitant, but all those people are in the east, and protesting in the streets isn't really their style (although they've made some pathetically amusing attempts lately).
later that night at a late dinner, my friend called me to say that the senate had passed the land reform bill, that evo was going to sign it at 11 pm, and to hurry because they were letting people into the congressional building, which was filling up fast. i used my last bolivianos to take a cab back up there, had to run the last couple blocks because the streets surrounding the palacio del congreso had been blocked off (uphill, super intense), and arrived perfectly out of breath only to see guards holding back people who hadn't been able to get into the building itself.
not to be defeated, i went up to the door to the guards holding the crowd back with their riot shields to try and get in. they asked if i had my [press] credentials with me, i said that i'd just gotten there and i didn't have any of my things (true, although "my things" didn't involve actual press credentials, just my notebook, pen, and camera), looked exasperated/despondent (which i was, i think the running gave my cheeks more flush, only heightening my looking flustered and out of sorts), and one of the guards, probably assuming that, due my skin color and wide-brimmed hat that i had some important purpose being there, just pulled back his shield and went, "here, go on in." often, i resent being a gringa. in this case, it worked to my advantage. (although i still resented the fact that i got let in to witness the events, while others who marched got stuck outside.)
the hall was packed with campesinos in all their electric-colored traditional wear, smelled of coca that most of the marchers had been subsisting on all day as they waited and boxed fried chicken dinners with which the government had provided them that evening, and erupted in cheers when evo, alvaro (the vp), and other ministers came down the stairs to sit down, speak, and sign.
people make a big deal of evo having never worn a suit, but really, he's just the tip of the iceberg that is this administration's dress. one official got up to speak in a short-sleeve buttoned shirt and cargo pants. a minister in a sweater. a campesina leader, who'd led one of the marches all the way to la paz, in her skirt, sweater, braids, and sun hat. another campesino leader spoke in full traditional garb, complete with poncho, woven hat with ear flaps, wide-brimmed hat over that, coca bag hanging off his side, and plenty of neon colors to go around. alvaro was the only one in a suit, yet even he was sans tie. i kept thinking how few governments in the world looked like this one, and fewer still with a 67% approval rating, no less. it's refreshing, really.
evo signed the legislation, and then a slew of government officials and other leaders involved in the deal spoke. one of the speakers mentioned this being the end of decolonization. that was about the only bit i remembered, though, because by that time, it was about 12:30 a.m. and the smell of the fried chicken was making me nauseous, so i went to sit out in the hall. another woman came to sit down. turns out she was a senator and exhausted from the day (she was in heels, no less), but very satisfied and relieved the legislation had gone through and that this impasse was behind them. she said it had been an important step. she also told me that, because they were able to pass the land reform in the senate, it looked like talk of closing the senate was over. a man walked by holding the actual bill, and i asked if i could and got to hold it, just to see the ink on the page.
we went back in the room as evo was about to speak, he spoke, people cheered, and it was over. people exuberantly shook hands for a few minutes (i got to shake the land minister's hand myself), and then left to go home. it was 1 a.m. by that time.
time will tell how this all plays out practically, how hard the latifundistas will fight (there are reports they're hiring british mercenaries), how hard the politicians will defend (there is more general acceptance of the land reform, even from people in the east, than one might think), but the symbolic part of land reform, and the first step in the process has actually come about. (cf. friends' articles below for more professional reviews, i.e. more facts, less flowery details, of the events.)
.
el lago titcaca home of the bolivian navy and sadistic nine-year-old girls
a couple weekends ago, feeling completely stir crazy in la paz (i realized it'd been two months since i'd gotten out of the city), i abruptly decided to go up to lake titicaca, by myself, just to chill. i also went because i inconceivably had not made it up there (the lake is bolivia's most well-known attraction) in all the time i'd thus spent in bolivia, and thought it necessary to rectify that situation.
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lake titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world at just under 3,900 m (12,800 ft), and huge. it's the third largest lake in south america, although smaller than the great lakes, yet feels like an ocean as you can't see the other side of it looking out. it's easy to see why, for a mountainous people like the incas, for whom the lake was sacred and the civilization's spiritual center, and for a landlocked country like bolivia, such a big mass of water has so much significance.
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it is also at the lake where bolivia's navy is stationed. yep, bolivia has a navy. and, although easily disparaged from a foreign perspective, in bolivia, the marines are very highly regarded and often are the branch of military that is used during official state proceedings. the marines are stationed at the ferry crossing en route to copacabana from la paz and walk around in their uniforms, complete with white sailor hats.
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i spent a night in copacabana, the main vacation/tourist spot on the lake on the shores of the lake, walked around, and took pictures of the cathedral (which is huge, and stunningly beautiful), the sunset over the lake, and the little sail boats that dotted it. the next morning, i got up early to take the 2-3 hour ferry boat ride to the isla del sol, one of the most sacred locations for the incas and the location of their creation legend.
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we disembarked on the northern end of the island, walked around the Labyrinth ruins, saw the ceremonial table, as well as the sacred rock. i know this may seem like blasphemy, but i didn't find the ruins all too impressive: the Labyrinth was from the 18th-century, the table was ... a table, and i could not see the panther in the rock to save my life. far more interesting was my local guide, an eleven-year-old boy, who taught me my first aymara phrases and, when we got to the sacred rock, picked up some stones, threw one at the rock and goes, "the eye is right there," threw another one, "and the other eye is right there," and when i told him i didn't still didn't see it (silly tourist), scrambled up to the top the 20-foot high rock (before i could tell him he didn't have to) to point the features out to me himself.
.
i then trekked down to the southern end of the island with some trekker tourist friends who'd made friends with me (determined as i was to be asocial that weekend), about 4-5 hours in all. it was funny hiking along an island by a lake because you keep thinking, oh hey, i'm at sea level, and then the minute you go up any incline, you are quickly reminded that you're at over 4000 m on that hill.
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besides tourism, which supports most of the island's economy, the rest of the island is agrarian, and the whole island has an almost tranquilizing pace to it, complimented by its remoteness. my favorite things we passed were the rambling, and from the looks of it shepherd-less, herds of sheep and pigs that we ran into, scampering over the hills with the lovely lake as the background. i got into the town at the southern end of the island, got a room at a hostel at the top of the island and a pineapple juice, and sat looking over the western edge of the lake as the sun went down. i also took a great picture of my hand holding my glass, the edge of the table, and the lake directly in the background that would've rivaled any corona ad. it was hard to beat.
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that evening, i spent over an hour talking with a little girl who lived on the island and some of her younger friends, with whom she'd talk aymara as they hadn't learned spanish in school yet and then translate into spanish for me, and vice versa. we had a charming conversation about tickling and politics, including her saying, while giggling, that evo was coming to the island and going to kill all us gringos, likely the result of her overhearing her parents' bitter complaints about obnoxious tourists. (i'll admit i've done a fair bit of tourist-derision of my own as well. seriously though, they walk around town in their ski boots.) i assured her that there were plenty of gringos who were buena gente, or good people. she kept smiling.
.
another little girl enthusiastically asked me to take a picture of her, so i did. then she immediately asked for a peso for the picture. when i told her i didn't have any on me, she looked as if she were about to cry, as if i'd just robbed her. i erased the picture for her, and she looked much more relieved. tired, i went to bed early.
.
another little girl enthusiastically asked me to take a picture of her, so i did. then she immediately asked for a peso for the picture. when i told her i didn't have any on me, she looked as if she were about to cry, as if i'd just robbed her. i erased the picture for her, and she looked much more relieved. tired, i went to bed early.
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i woke up the next morning at about 5:30 to the obnoxious braying of donkeys, but the sun was just coming up, so i grabbed my camera, and went to the east side to take pictures of the dramatic andean cordillera on the other side of the lake, and the sunrise coming up over it. i was amazed to find, too, that i could see the silhouette of illimani all the way at the other end of the cordillera, further south beyond la paz. it was gorgeous.
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i then took the ferry back to copacabana, then the bus back from copacabana to la paz, realized i'd completely sunburned my hands (the only part of me not covered when i trekked isla del sol), and thus ended my trip. the next day, monday, i got an email from a friend, saying a bunch of us girls were going up to the lake for a little getaway. so, after 7+ months of being here and not going to the lake, i got two back-to-back weekend trips. in material news, i replaced the original bolivian fish vertebrae earrings, one of which i lost this summer, with new ones, and picked up some lovely mother-of-pearl shell ones.
good journalism holly's plugs for friends (who also happen to be very good journalists)
damian on npr re land reform:
http://marketplace.publicradio.org/shows/2006/11/29/PM200611296.html good journalism holly's plugs for friends (who also happen to be very good journalists)
damian on npr re land reform:
dan's articles on evo's political capital and land reform: http://www.quepasa.com/english/news/latinamerica/537892.html
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/11/29/AR2006112900318.html
http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/world/americas/16136833.htm
and finally, richard simmons on letterman historic, in its own right
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SCJLlSf21Y
un abrazo para todos.
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