At the feet of Gumby Death Angel

[A brief reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at this link.] 

I saw from the centre of the city of Tarija, Bolivia a church on a bluff that looked impossible to climb without real gear, so I decided to try it without anyway. I found a road that made it possible to walk. It's not, as I had thought, a church but a cemetery.

A couple of things interested me, the first being the road itself, all hand-laid stones.

It's pretty, of course, but if one thinks of roads before we had the layered marvels that came about in the 19th century, then we are grateful that there are now roads leading through the Andes that can and do take the likes of me to wonders unimaginable without having ridden there. I love roads. Read an account of Defoe or Dr. Johnson travelling, or try African roads and see what I mean. But this road up to the cemetery is pretty, and it led me to a garden worth the visit.

[Garden walls at the cemetery]

I got caught in a rainstorm at the cemetary, which prompted me to write a short piece to come when I have another good connection, "Raindrops Keep Falling on the Dead." It has to wait. Butch Cassidy, Sundance Kid, and Che are all dead and won't mind.

Hope you can return for it later.

Meanwhiles, I sat out the rain and checked out the statue that first prompted me to make the climb.
I called it Gumby Death Angel. If I can't think of anything better at least I had a good climb up and down the hill. I considered Klaatu, but I think I should quit while I'm winning.

More on this later.
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