Day 227: De Nada Empanada (12/09/2011)

Once you descend from the mountains where Potosi clings to the rock face, you very quickly enter a long and dusty plain.

Ahead, La Paz is still at an eye-watering altitude of 3660m.

Since Potosi is at 3,950m, it’s not much of a descent but psychologically that small drop is important. The breathlessness that strikes you from time to time at 4,000m feels like the sensation you get when you realise that you have made a terrible mistake.

First there is a sharp intake of breath followed by palpitations and then some very, very deep breathing.

We hit the plain by 10.00am and, arriving in some non-descript ribbon development, Dave needed to make a ‘phone call and so we pulled up on the dusty side strip to wait. There were a few stalls selling biscuits and crisps and so, fearing that our cholesterol levels were too low after 21 days of red meat for every meal, we  set about loading up for the final leg.

That is when we came across the Empanada Lady.

She had a cute trolley with glass windows heavy with condensation and a nice smile that translated in any language. Two Bolivianas (or twenty pence) was the price for her little pockets of joy and before long we had formed a disorderly queue with some shoving towards the front.

They disappeared, complete with paper wrapping, in fours and fives at a time and when we got back to the truck, the smell had preceded us. Gemma, a universally proclaimed empanada fiend, was champing at the bit to get Elliot to the trolley.

Empanada Lady obliged, when she saw the stir her produce was causing, and wheeled the trolley across the busy junction, over the high kerb and within striking distance of the truck. Those who hadn’t bought some already rushed out to meet her.

Lunch for her - and for us, soon became an academic consideration as we cleared her trolley of every last one.

So often, the twenty-one of us descend on a small town and buy in bulk.

First we clear the bread shop, then the butchers and the locals only get a look in if there is a supermarket, but only if they want stuff from the freezer aisle. So it was that Empanada Lady went home with full pockets but an empty stomach.

As we left town, a hungry mechanic stood at the usual spot, denied his lunch-time empanada for the first time in years.