American Visa

I spent Thursday night back in Bolivia. No, I did not fly to La Paz physically, just mentally. Juan de Recacoechea, author of American Visa, one of ten Bolivian novels ever to be translated into English, came to campus on his book tour. During his lecture before the film rendition of his novel, Juan spoke about the creation of his novel, the differences between it and the movie, and his thoughts on Bolivia’s current president. The only attendees to this lecture (other than me) spoke fluent Spanish, and I was one of two tall gringos in the room—just like it usually was when I lived in Bolivia.

A Bolivian novelist from La Paz. While I lived in Bolivia, I did not get into their literary scene all that much (might have improved my Spanish, though!), so this was a new adventure for me. Juan introduced “crime pulp fiction” to Bolivia and won a prestigious award for his novel in 1994. Not bad.

I had not read the book, so a review of the film is all I can give you. It is about a man from Oruro who wants to go to Miami in order to visit (or stay indefinitely with) his son. In the process of trying to get his visa, he meets a “night butterfly” and becomes involved in a night mystery. It is as if he is a Bolivian version of Dostoevsky’s Raskolnikov, which was literarily fascinating to me. The movie was also fascinating in that it depicted a part of Bolivia I had never seen: the night life of La Paz. I doubt it’s a part of Bolivia that I will ever want to see.

And now, I am back in Pittsburgh—where the leaves are changing RIGHT NOW. Maple and sassafras trees seem to be going first—sassafras having already turned, and maple mid-turn. The oak trees are still waiting. I love the brilliance of the color—especially yesterday, when it was set against a dreary dark blue rain cloud. Welcome autumn.