From Tarija, we flew to Cochabamba, where my partner grew up from age four to age eighteen, and I was thrilled to finally see it.
I love how Bolivia's airports allow friends and family to hang out over a balcony and wave as you walk to your plane.
We waved goodbye to the pope (well, he waved goodbye to us-- I'm not sure if we really waved back).
We flew away from the tiny airport of Tarija:
Flew pretty low, as most of Bolivia is already some 9000 feet above sea level.
We approached Cochabamba and saw its tan-colored lake.
And finally landed at Aeropuerto Jorge Wilstermann, an amusing sign of the German influence in the area.
We made our way across the tarmac, and my partner marveled at how this dinky airport was actually the new and improved one. "You should have seen the one we had growing up." Funny how that always seems to happen.
Next up: Cochabamba, Bolivia.
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