I had a couple of unsettling days last week, which be grateful you  live in a country that you understand the language, and when you are in  a police station you feel safe.

The very nice looking, every inch a gentleman to the left is my facilitator, Evan.  His job is to make sure I get all the paperwork, blood test, finger prints and photos I need at all the agencies for my Bolivan visa, not the tourist visa that I have now.  This ladies and gentlemen is no easy task, even for a professional like Evan.  I on my own could never achieve it.  Seriously not in a thousand years.

This picture above was taken of Evan  in the Cohabamba Police department.  Most of the business is outside with you talking thru windows.  We were inside for quite awhile.  Still did not get done what we needed to.  This is even with a letter from the Police Dept. in San Angelo saying I was basically a good person and no threat.  Now I do have some very good friends on the San Angelo Police Dept. but seriously folks give me a visa!!!!!!

Now actually the Police Dept. was a piece of cake, even though we are not out of the woods yet. 

I think they found out who my brother is!!!!!  The really scary part was the day before with Interpol.  Yes folks, just like James Bond.  My Facilitator took me downtown, the old part of town, to the Interpol office.  That is where James Bond and I parted ways. It is dark and scary.  I wasn't sure where the mug shots stopped and the real people began.  Evan asked me to sit down and wait while he walked 3 ft. away to the officers office (a card table and a 1940 typewriter).  Evan talked and the officer looked at me, no expression and Evan talked some more and showed him my papers, he looked at me again, no expression, so  Evan talked some more.  I was getting a little concerned so as the officer glanced my way I demurely crossed my legs, made sure my blouse hung just a little lower  and gave him my best, sweetest Anna Nicole smile.  Now Evan really had to talk, I guess at a certain point in time and a certain age it just doesn't work any more.  I think I saw Evan pass him some money and I was immediately finger printed, sent for blood test and told I had to have even more photos.  Now that is sad when you have to buy your way into Bolivia.  I was sent upstairs, the steps looked like they were out of a lighthouse for a hobbit.  They were the smallest steps and the steepest curving stairs I have ever seen.  When I get to the top it is like a Glamor Shot Photo session.  Now this is nothing more than a mug shot, it is just for my Bolivian ID, but no, this girl spends 30 min. fixing my hair, adjusting the shawl I was wearing, adjusting my posture like I was a model.  Then she brings out a little digital camera and snap I have my ID picture.  Now after all of this fussing I still look like someone who had to buy their way into Bolivia!!!!!!