Cristo de la Concordia: Escape from Santa Cruz

Graffiti both in favor of President Evo Morales (such as the red "Evo") and condemining him (the green sign calling for a resistance movement against "narco-communists") can be found across Bolivia. This particular juxtaposition was seen in Santa Cruz. (T-G Photo by John I. Carney)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

SANTA CRUZ, Bolivia -- On Monday, July 9, Debra Snellen and I were scheduled to fly from Cochabamba to Santa Cruz. We were done with our work in Cochabamba and would spend a few days in Santa Cruz relaxing and debriefing the experience, and investigating whether Santa Cruz would be a pleasant place to bring future teams for debrief.

Cochabamba is not served by any of the American air carriers, so our flight would be on AeroSur, the biggest Bolivian airline (its main rival, LAB, shut down in April). Our fight was scheduled for 9 p.m., but it got postponed until midnight, then until 2 a.m., and then until an announced time of 3:50 a.m., although we lucked out and actually got to leave at 3:15.

Bolivia has a wide variety of altitudes and climates. La Paz is the highest capital city in the world, at 11,000 feet, and is a leading center for study of altitude sickness. Cochabamba, where we had worked, is at 8,000 feet, still much higher than the US's "mile-high city" of Denver, Colo. But Santa Cruz is down in the Amazon basin. Everyone in Cochabamba told us how warm Santa Cruz was and said we'd enjoy it.

Well, we did enjoy it, but it wasn't warm. A historic cold snap hit Bolivia at about the time we were leaving Cochabamba for Santa Cruz. There was snow in La Paz for the first time in decades, shutting down the airport. The local TV news in Santa Cruz showed shoppers scrambling to buy hats and sweaters and interviewed people on the street to find out how many layers of clothing they had on.

Despite the cold snap, we spent two pleasant days in Santa Cruz, visiting its lovely zoo, touring its Catholic church and the church's dazzling collection of artifacts, and wandering the various shops and restaurants. There was a terrific Brazilian restaurant which served buffet style and charged you by the kilogram. There was a cozy little cafe and sports bar where I ordered a big bowl of chocolate ice cream.

Even so, I was getting a little itchy for my return home. It had been an interesting trip, but the work part of it was over, and we had actually done some of our debrief and discussion during our light schedule towards the end of the work week in Cochabamba. Finally, it was Wednesday, July 11, time to head for Viru Viru International Airport and home.

After our six-hour AeroSur delay Monday night, I was relieved that our flight from Santa Cruz to Miami would be on American Airlines, not some regional carrier. After all, good old reliable American Airlines wouldn't let us down.

We arrived at Viru Viru about 8:45 p.m. to check in for our 10:55 flight. After checking in, we stopped at a Subway in the airport, where I had what was supposed to be a BMT, although it only had two types of meat and the salami (if that's what it was) looked quite different from the U.S. version. We went through emigration and had our passports stamped to leave the country. We sat at the gate waiting for our flight.

Well, 11 p.m. came and went. At 11:10, we learned that the flight had been rescheduled for 11 a.m. the next day. We reclaimed our luggage and then stood in line for an hour to get airport and taxi vouchers.

The airline did, I must admit, put us up in a very nice hotel, a Best Western, which was much nicer than the one where we had been staying in Santa Cruz. But we didn't get there until after midnight, and I was in bed at 1:15 a.m.

At 8:40 a.m. Thursday, we arrived back at Viru Viru. The American Airlines personnel were checking in another flight and told all of us that we'd have to wait until after 9 a.m. to check in for the Miami flight.

At 9 a.m., all of the American Airlines people vanished. We did not see them again for 90 minutes. Several dozen of us stood in line, patiently, but no one even paid us the courtesy of coming out to tell us to please be patient and keep waiting. There was supposedly a PA announcement at some point, but it would have been in Spanish and the sound quality wasn't good in any case. If it happened, I don't think many people in line realized it was intended for us.

This 90-minute wait, specifically the fact that no one bothered to check on us during that time, may be the single worst case of customer service I've ever experienced. At least I had a traveling companion who could hold my place in line if I needed to use the restroom, buy a bottled water or just sit down. Not everyone was so lucky.

I will probably think about that 90-minute wait every time I get ready to book a ticket with AA from this point forward.

There was a Mennonite family in line with us, and at one point one of their little girls asked, "Mommy, why don't we just get into another line?" I wish I'd have thought of it.

Finally, at 10:30, we got word that the flight had been rescheduled for late that night. So we stood in line for another hour waiting for more hotel, taxi and meal vouchers.

We got back to the Best Western at 12:20, at which time I realized that I was short a suitcase. I had either left it in the taxi or simply walked off and left it at the airport. I feared the latter; we were exhausted and had been distracted with some last-minute paperwork right around the time we were walking to the cab. At this time, I was near panic mode. But the hotel clerks were quite helpful, calling our taxi driver and AA. At first, no one was answering the phone at the airline, possibly because they were still processing people from the flight.

As Debra and I sat down to lunch, I was still blaming myself for the loss of the suitcase. Debra prayed for its return as we said grace. Two minutes later, the front desk clerk came into the dining room to tell me that American Airlines had my bag and it would be waiting for me that evening.

It would have to wait for me a little longer; American called our hotel to let us all know that the flight had been delayed again, until 7 a.m. Friday, and we should stay at the hotel in the meantime. Of course, my clothes, almost all of them dirty, were at the airport in the missing bag. I rinsed out the underwear and socks that I had been wearing in the hotel room sink and tried without much success to dry them with the hotel's in-room hair dryer before putting them back on.

Debra and I got up at 3 a.m. and caught our airport taxi at 3:30. Sure enough, my bag was waiting for me at the airport. Eventually, we were able to check in, and after a breakfast at the airport coffee shop we went through immigration and security and to the gate.

Our plane took off at 7 a.m., only 32 hours behind our original schedule.

We arrived in Miami in early afternoon, and I was thrilled beyond belief to be back in the United States. But the next scheduled flight to Nashville wasn't until 10 p.m. So, in the ultimate anticlimax, we had to kill seven or eight hours in the Miami airport.

When we finally arrived in Nashville, about 11 p.m. Central time, I warned my parents that I hadn't bathed or changed clothes in a couple of days and that they might need to drive back to Shelbyville with the windows down.

It makes a funny war story, and I'm sure I'll laugh about it in the years to come.

In Mark 6, we read about Jesus sending out his 12 disciples to preach. In Luke 10, we read about 72 others being sent out. In both cases, Jesus tells them what to do if they are rejected by the people to whom they preach. The point is that God doesn't guarantee that obedience to his call will always result in pretty, pat endings or predictable results.

On Friday the 13th, this was the most beautiful sight at Viru Viru International Airport -- the sign indicating that our replacement flight, 9238, was on time and we were headed back to the U.S. after a 32-hour delay. (T-G Photo by John I. Carney) [Click to enlarge]

Debra and I were welcomed by the people of Cochabamba, where we spent our week of ministry. But even so, things didn't turn out exactly as we expected. There were misunderstandings, and tasks left uncompleted. Anyone would have been frustrated at some points; but it was important to put frustration behind us and just try to do what we could do.

Will LEAMIS take a team to Bolivia next year?

That depends on a lot of things. We have some good contacts now who could put us into a more remote, rural setting, the kind for which much of the LEAMIS operating plan is designed. It remains to be seen whether Bolivia's contentious political climate, or the anti-American sentiments of its current president, will affect safety and security and prevent us from returning.

Cristo de la Concordia, from his pedestal atop Cerro de San Pedro, surely knows the answer. But as he looks out across Cochabamba's rooftops, he keeps his own counsel.