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CHAPTER 5

GOLD AND PIGGS

We hailed a cab on Calle Illampu and loaded our packs into the trunk and onto the roof. The taxi wove in and out of traffic, then turned toward the airport. A ten-minute drive and we were there. I had a funny feeling: this wasn't just a plan or a story to tell anymore. We were really on our way.

The flight to Apolo took less than an hour. The plane was small. The passengers were seated side by side along benches of taut canvas that ran the length of the aircraft, leaning back against taut strips of fabric. All the luggage was in a heap at the back.

Most of the passengers were residents of Apolo. The men had short, bristly hair. The women, like the men, had high cheekbones. They wore their black hair in thick braids intertwined with yarn and tied off with ornamental tassels. There was also a European, a priest in a brown soutane.

Flying over the Andes was inspiring: snow-covered peaks and breathtaking panoramas. Once in a while we flew into an air pocket, and the plane lost altitude with a quiver, then steadied