As I write, I’m on the bus, heading north from Cochabamba on the long road to La Paz. Saying goodbye to Cochabamba, after two very different but equally inspiring conferences back to back – the ten year anniversary of the water wars and the People´s Conference – as well as meeting so many amazing people, feels like quite a pull. But at the same time I know that many of the connections and ideas that have come about in Cochabamba will last long beyond the time I have spent here.
The eight hour bus trip seems like a opportunity to reflect on the past few days. I’ve been on the bus for four hours now. The journey began with hints of lush green shrubs and plants clinging to the landscape. ‘Lush green’ should be usual at this time of the year, as the rainy season is just drawing to a close. But, as many people have told me since I arrived, not much rain fell this year, and the land is dry. As the scorched hills role past, the midday sun burns through the window and down on the deep red earth. We pass by parched rivers, and animals struggling to drink from evaporated lakes. The road, though a main highway connecting two major cities, is little populated. From the bus, Many of the adobe mud houses scattering the landscape, seem abandoned. Of course, as an...

















