We are back in ¨¡La Pa La Pa La Pa!¨ We had our last official ceremony last night to end disorientation (you know, like the opposite of ¨orientation¨) and now we have our last day free to roam the city. I cant believe it is almost over; Ive only used 1.5 ounces of shampoo and Ive done laundry only three times! We leave Bolivia late tonight/early tomorrow morning.
Im my three months here, I have not yet told you all the things I love here. As a final tribute to this place, here is a list of all the reasons I love Bolivia:
-An electronic version of Eminem coming through my window from a fiesta in the plaza at night
-The availability of soy milk
-Drinking liquids out of a bag
-Fresh carrot juice
-Coca candies
-Coca cookies
-Mangos, prickly pears, baby bananas, y custard apples
-The abundance of cerveza
-MOUNTAINS
-The fact that the kid sitting next to me at the Internet cafe cant read what Im writing
-The rare but delicious vegetarian buffets in Cochabamba
-Freshest smoothies ever (and they come in a bag!)
-Porn calendars are proudly displayed in every tienda, home, and auto shop
-Té de Paris
-Coca mate
-Su Tienda Amiga Yolanda
-Humientas from the lady in a cardboard box
-Falafal en Lafa for 15 bolivianos
-Black market on Sundays and Thursdays (the the fabulous Venus d´ Milo boots I found there)
-Political graffiti on every boulder, buildng, and wall
-Peanut sauce
-Second hand clothing shops in Rurre
-Grapefruits in the Amazon
-Martín the monkey
-Wild chocolate
-Fresh Sorata bread, straight from the Orno Caliente on monday afternoons
-The proper way to carry a baby is: (1.) put a manta (big woven cloth) on the ground and put your baby on it (2.) grab the corners and SWING it over your shoulder onto your back (3.) Tie it and go...
-LLamas hatching from eggs
-Andean ceremonies
-Paying tribute to the Apus
-Listening to the sacred earth
-Api breaks in the mid-morning
-Scottie (aka Cohen), my adopted street puppy
-Being somewhere long enough to adopt street dogs as your own
-Dogs wearing sweaters and other clothes
-The swings in Plaza España
-Drunken taxi drivers who discuss the inbreeding of llamas and dogs on the streets of El Alto
-Water fights during Carnival
-Espuma
-Tomatoes with mustard
And probably more that I have forgotten...
I am a bit relieved to finish traveling with 15 other people; logistically, it has been quite a challenge. But I am so sad to leave the 15 people that have become my family here!
It is scary to go home. It is even scarier that Im only home for two weeks until Im off to Brevard to work for the summer, then Im straight off to school. School?! That will be a strange new adjustment...
Or maybe a new adventure?
¡Chao Bolivia! My next post will come from the States.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Home-Sweet-Almost-Home
I dont leave Bolivia for a couple more days, but last Saturday I felt like I had returned home. That is because we returned to Sorata. We´ve travel so much, so quickly throughout Bolivia and Peru that the three weeks in Sorata was our longest time being stationary, and therefore it is most familiar to us, most like home.
Driving in from Lake Titicaca, I was actually suprised at how happy I was to see Sorata off in the distance. Looking out the window of our mobilidad, I could identify all the parts of Sorata that meant so much to the group: there is Tutu, with the river running beside it; there is the road that leads to Villa Rosa, and the Regae Bar, and David´s farm; there is the path I would run on, and the bridge where I saw a rainbow one rainy afternoon; there is the shop where the banana bread is sold; and there, four rows up from the palm tree filled plaza, is my home, so small from the road, but probably full of my family playing and eating lunch.
The tienda woman recognized Evi, where she used to buy mustard every day. And the woman with the juice shop asked Michaela where she had been. I ran into my homestay sister in the plaza within 2 hours of being back: I was suprised when someone grabbed me from behind, but as soon as I felt her arms I had no doubt that it was her!
Our past three days in Sorata have been exactly what I needed to process, relax, and reflect. It has been nice to focus on our group and enjoying our last bit of time together.
Our main adventure in Sorata was preparing for the Aptapi, which is like an Aymara potluck. We invited all 13 of our homestay families, so we were busy cooking for over 50 people! Our biggest chalenge was that the water in the house was cut off, which means we had no water to cook or clean with. We ended up having to carry water in giant buckets to the house from the town. Despite the little roadblock, we got everything done smoothly (miraculously!), and we had a lot of fun while doing it. We had the speakers turned up loud and we spent all day singing, dancing, cooking, and laughing. It will definitely be one of the memories that sticks with me for a long time.
The families came in the afternoon and we all crowded into the house. When it came tiem to eat, there was a MAD DASH to the fruit salad. It was honestly a stampeed of bolivian women, and people were fighting for the serving spoon. We had made almost a bathtub full of it, and it was gone in 10 minutes. It was funny to watch all the mothers fill up there plates then slyly dump them into there purses, saving it for later. Whe we gave them to-go baggies at the end of the fiesta, there was yet another mad dash. I swear some of them left with two or three totebags full of leftovers. By the end, we only had hummus and salad left in the pots- Im pretty sure that not a single Bolivian touched either thing!
For me, the day before the Aptapi was also filled with cooking (still with no water, I might add...). I decided to make dal baht for my whole group as a special treat and thankyou. It was fun but tiring, cooking dal, baht, tarkari, saag, and achar for 16 people. And I was worried that it might not be good, since I had no recipe, little experience, and only bolivian ingredients. I was suprised at how well it turned out; it was actally really tasty and everyone loved it.
Driving in from Lake Titicaca, I was actually suprised at how happy I was to see Sorata off in the distance. Looking out the window of our mobilidad, I could identify all the parts of Sorata that meant so much to the group: there is Tutu, with the river running beside it; there is the road that leads to Villa Rosa, and the Regae Bar, and David´s farm; there is the path I would run on, and the bridge where I saw a rainbow one rainy afternoon; there is the shop where the banana bread is sold; and there, four rows up from the palm tree filled plaza, is my home, so small from the road, but probably full of my family playing and eating lunch.
The tienda woman recognized Evi, where she used to buy mustard every day. And the woman with the juice shop asked Michaela where she had been. I ran into my homestay sister in the plaza within 2 hours of being back: I was suprised when someone grabbed me from behind, but as soon as I felt her arms I had no doubt that it was her!
Our past three days in Sorata have been exactly what I needed to process, relax, and reflect. It has been nice to focus on our group and enjoying our last bit of time together.
Our main adventure in Sorata was preparing for the Aptapi, which is like an Aymara potluck. We invited all 13 of our homestay families, so we were busy cooking for over 50 people! Our biggest chalenge was that the water in the house was cut off, which means we had no water to cook or clean with. We ended up having to carry water in giant buckets to the house from the town. Despite the little roadblock, we got everything done smoothly (miraculously!), and we had a lot of fun while doing it. We had the speakers turned up loud and we spent all day singing, dancing, cooking, and laughing. It will definitely be one of the memories that sticks with me for a long time.
The families came in the afternoon and we all crowded into the house. When it came tiem to eat, there was a MAD DASH to the fruit salad. It was honestly a stampeed of bolivian women, and people were fighting for the serving spoon. We had made almost a bathtub full of it, and it was gone in 10 minutes. It was funny to watch all the mothers fill up there plates then slyly dump them into there purses, saving it for later. Whe we gave them to-go baggies at the end of the fiesta, there was yet another mad dash. I swear some of them left with two or three totebags full of leftovers. By the end, we only had hummus and salad left in the pots- Im pretty sure that not a single Bolivian touched either thing!
For me, the day before the Aptapi was also filled with cooking (still with no water, I might add...). I decided to make dal baht for my whole group as a special treat and thankyou. It was fun but tiring, cooking dal, baht, tarkari, saag, and achar for 16 people. And I was worried that it might not be good, since I had no recipe, little experience, and only bolivian ingredients. I was suprised at how well it turned out; it was actally really tasty and everyone loved it.
Sunny Island
We just ended our two nights at Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun), in Lake Titicaca.
Titicaca was incredible; absolutely more than I imagined. The beach was beautiful and the water was emense. I kept forgeting that it wasnt an ocean. When you see the pictures, you will know what I mean!
We got to spend time laying in the sand and it truely felt like paradise, but the sun was strong- we were about 14,000 feet HIGHER than sea level, if that gives you an idea. Besides relaxing in the sand, we spend time doing group reflections and playing lots of games. It was a beautiful break from all the moving and doing that we have been busy with for the past few months.
We went to the Incan ruins on the North side of the island. The island, and especially the ruins, are on of the holiest sites in the Incan empire, because the place is considered to be the birthplace of the Sun and of the Inca. We went at dusk and it was truely magical. Our bolivian friends, Doña Fransica and Don Roberto, conducted an Aymara ceremony for us, which made the experience even more special. I have seen quite a few ceremonies by now, but this one was particulary powerful. Something about Fransisca and Roberto chanting and turning in unison to give thanks to the Apus really touched me.
Our last day, we hiked together across the ridge that follows the island. From the path, both sides of the enormous lake was visible, as was the snowy mountains in the distance. It was a great end to our stay.
Titicaca was incredible; absolutely more than I imagined. The beach was beautiful and the water was emense. I kept forgeting that it wasnt an ocean. When you see the pictures, you will know what I mean!
We got to spend time laying in the sand and it truely felt like paradise, but the sun was strong- we were about 14,000 feet HIGHER than sea level, if that gives you an idea. Besides relaxing in the sand, we spend time doing group reflections and playing lots of games. It was a beautiful break from all the moving and doing that we have been busy with for the past few months.
We went to the Incan ruins on the North side of the island. The island, and especially the ruins, are on of the holiest sites in the Incan empire, because the place is considered to be the birthplace of the Sun and of the Inca. We went at dusk and it was truely magical. Our bolivian friends, Doña Fransica and Don Roberto, conducted an Aymara ceremony for us, which made the experience even more special. I have seen quite a few ceremonies by now, but this one was particulary powerful. Something about Fransisca and Roberto chanting and turning in unison to give thanks to the Apus really touched me.
Our last day, we hiked together across the ridge that follows the island. From the path, both sides of the enormous lake was visible, as was the snowy mountains in the distance. It was a great end to our stay.
Animal CRACKers
While in Peru, animal crackers were my drug of choice. But thats not to say that there arent other drugs floating around. Peru and Bolivia are well behind Colombia, Brazil, and Mexico in cocaine production, but there is definitely still an industry here.
Did you know that you can call one of many phone numbers in NYC, and within 3 minutes you can have cocain delivered, no matter where you are. It costs $20 a gram.
Ive always thought chemical drugs are a bad idea- bad for your health, bad for your relationships, bad for your brain. But before this trip, I had never thought about how drug use affects the communities that produce those drugs.
In South America, the cocain industry is ruining lives. Coca farmers are having there fields burned by the DEA, and being forced to work for low wages in the production of pasto basico (coca paste). Women transport drugs as a last resort for cash, and are sentanced to years in prison with all of there children. Peasants forced by poverty into the drug trade are sentanced the death penalty, while a NYU freshman caught with cocaine recieves only a small fine.
Did you know that in Bolivia it is illegal to transport large amounts of toilet paper? Toilet paper and gasoline are two of the main ingredients of pasto basico.
When you choose to use cocaine, you are choosing to oppress so many peopple in this area, and you are putting so many lives in danger. That is something they dont teach you in D.A.R.E. class...
Did you know that you can call one of many phone numbers in NYC, and within 3 minutes you can have cocain delivered, no matter where you are. It costs $20 a gram.
Ive always thought chemical drugs are a bad idea- bad for your health, bad for your relationships, bad for your brain. But before this trip, I had never thought about how drug use affects the communities that produce those drugs.
In South America, the cocain industry is ruining lives. Coca farmers are having there fields burned by the DEA, and being forced to work for low wages in the production of pasto basico (coca paste). Women transport drugs as a last resort for cash, and are sentanced to years in prison with all of there children. Peasants forced by poverty into the drug trade are sentanced the death penalty, while a NYU freshman caught with cocaine recieves only a small fine.
Did you know that in Bolivia it is illegal to transport large amounts of toilet paper? Toilet paper and gasoline are two of the main ingredients of pasto basico.
When you choose to use cocaine, you are choosing to oppress so many peopple in this area, and you are putting so many lives in danger. That is something they dont teach you in D.A.R.E. class...
Bolivia > Peru
On the way from Cusco to Lake Titicaca, we crossed back over the boarder to Bolivia. To be honest, I didnt realize how much I loved Bolivia until we left and then returned. It was a good feeling to hold bolivianos in my hand rather than Peruvian soles. My surroundings didnt change much (after all, its only an imaginary line that we crossed...) but there was a feeling of familiarity and good vibes in the air as soon as we made the transition.
Before I get too far into Bolivia, I want to share a list of a few final observations on Peru:
-While in Peru, especially Cusco,one can easily forget that they are in South America. Everything has the feeling of a quaint European village: narrow cobblestone roads, cute little houses on the hillside, everything neat and tidy but not too modern.
-The churches are GOLD GOLD GOLD GOLD. The huge cathedral in Plaza de Armas in Cusco could easily feel at home in Vatican city; it was actually built on and with old stones stolen from ancient Incan holy sites.
-Animal crackers. The animal crackers in Peru are addicting and Im pretty sure that there were days when I ate them for all three meals.
-Peru is SO toursity. Everywhere you go people are yelling and grabbing you and trying to sell you things. It was scary at best and intimidating at best. I was VERY relieved to get away from all of that.
-The textiles are prettier and have brighter colors, but they are WAY more expensive (like everything else in Peru).
-The markets are better, and they have way more produce. You can even find squoosh!! which is my favorite vegetable from Nepal. The bread, however, is pretty bad.
-There are squat toilets at the ruins of Pisaq!!!!! Squat toilets, just like Asia. This will probably stand out as my favorite memory of Peru. Not kidding.
-Women dress up in elaborate costumes and carry around baby goats in the plaza, and they make you pay to take pictures of them.
Before I get too far into Bolivia, I want to share a list of a few final observations on Peru:
-While in Peru, especially Cusco,one can easily forget that they are in South America. Everything has the feeling of a quaint European village: narrow cobblestone roads, cute little houses on the hillside, everything neat and tidy but not too modern.
-The churches are GOLD GOLD GOLD GOLD. The huge cathedral in Plaza de Armas in Cusco could easily feel at home in Vatican city; it was actually built on and with old stones stolen from ancient Incan holy sites.
-Animal crackers. The animal crackers in Peru are addicting and Im pretty sure that there were days when I ate them for all three meals.
-Peru is SO toursity. Everywhere you go people are yelling and grabbing you and trying to sell you things. It was scary at best and intimidating at best. I was VERY relieved to get away from all of that.
-The textiles are prettier and have brighter colors, but they are WAY more expensive (like everything else in Peru).
-The markets are better, and they have way more produce. You can even find squoosh!! which is my favorite vegetable from Nepal. The bread, however, is pretty bad.
-There are squat toilets at the ruins of Pisaq!!!!! Squat toilets, just like Asia. This will probably stand out as my favorite memory of Peru. Not kidding.
-Women dress up in elaborate costumes and carry around baby goats in the plaza, and they make you pay to take pictures of them.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Pisaq
Today we spent the day outside of Cusco at the ruins of Pisaq.
We opted out of visiting Machu Pichu, deciding that other things were more more important to us (and LESS touristy), so these Incan ruins were the first we have really seen in Peru.
The whole area was incredible. The nearly perfectly fitted original stone work at the site was a stark contrast to the restored walls, which are no more than rough rocks pasted together with mortar. It was an amazing experience to walk along the cliffs on the narrow hallways, and imagine citizens of the Incan Empire going about their daily chores on the same path, half a milinium ago. One mountains side overlooking the ruins was covered in small round caves; we learned that this is actually the largest Incan cemetary.
I wont go into to too much detail about the day. It was pretty neat and pictures will show more!
In a few hours I will be hopping on a night bus to Copacabana. I cant wait to return to Bolivia!!! Peru has been an interesting contrast, but I am excited to escape the freakishly European vibes and once again feel like I am in South America. Tomorrow morning we will catch a boat to Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca. This island is the birthplace of humanity, according to Incan myth. It is supposed to be a very magical place!
We opted out of visiting Machu Pichu, deciding that other things were more more important to us (and LESS touristy), so these Incan ruins were the first we have really seen in Peru.
The whole area was incredible. The nearly perfectly fitted original stone work at the site was a stark contrast to the restored walls, which are no more than rough rocks pasted together with mortar. It was an amazing experience to walk along the cliffs on the narrow hallways, and imagine citizens of the Incan Empire going about their daily chores on the same path, half a milinium ago. One mountains side overlooking the ruins was covered in small round caves; we learned that this is actually the largest Incan cemetary.
I wont go into to too much detail about the day. It was pretty neat and pictures will show more!
In a few hours I will be hopping on a night bus to Copacabana. I cant wait to return to Bolivia!!! Peru has been an interesting contrast, but I am excited to escape the freakishly European vibes and once again feel like I am in South America. Tomorrow morning we will catch a boat to Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca. This island is the birthplace of humanity, according to Incan myth. It is supposed to be a very magical place!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Fathers, Hope, Potatoes
We are back in Cusco after our adventure to Nacion Queros. First we hoped on a bus to Ocongate, a town close to the territory of Nacion Queros. We snacked on Peruvian animal crackers (a favorite) while we altered and re-altered our plans to reach Queros.
A day later we piled our stuff and ourselves into an open-bed truck bound for the snowy pass above Quiko (a village a part of Nacion Queros). From the pass we hiked down into Quiko. We spent more time than planned in Quiko. We waited for Alex (still sick with Dengue) to ride a horse into the village a day late. Then a furious hail storm (WHY are we ALWAYS caught in winter weather?!) kept us from moving on. The next day three sickies (Alex, Ecca, and Caiti) rode out (headed back to the clinic in Cusco for more care), and the rest of us hiked down to Quiko Chico (¨little Quiko¨) to begin our homestays.
In Quiko Chico we lived with families and learned more about the ancient culture of Queros.
I wasnt sure how to go about explainting the past week, so Ive organized it by topic, the easiest way I know how:
NACTION QUEROS
Nacion Queros is a community of people who have maganed to preserve Incan tradition and culture. They marry within the community to preserve Incan blood, too. They speak only Quechua; their knowledge of Spanish language is about as equal as mine, sometimes even worse! The women would always yell things at us in Quechua, and they didnt understand why we didnt know what they were saying. Nature is a very important part of the preserved Incan culture and life. To them, the all of the earth is living! Water has energy, and the mountains (the ¨Apus¨) are guardians. Each day we would chew coca and offer thanks to the Apus; they know each mountain by name. The people have the ability to sit on the ground and listen to the earth, who offers them advise and wisdom. The Andean enviroment around Queros is nearly inhospitable. It is bitter cold, the altitude makes even simple tasks difficult, and the only food that grows is potatoes. So WHY have people chosen to live here for so many centuries? According to the people, the land around Queros is some of the most sacred in the world. Even in my short time there, I was able to sense its holiness, too.
WEAVINGS
Weaving is a huge part of life in Queros, and one of their only means of livelyhood. The complicated patterns and advanced techniques have been passed down since the time of the Inca. The textiles are truely the most incredible Ive even seen! Every man and woman in the town is constantly spinning yarn from llama or sheep wool- they do it as necessarily and unconsiously as they breathe. Upon first arriving, we received a display of textiles that would make a rainbow look dull. We ALL took advantange and nearly bought out the town.
HOMESTAYS
In Quiko Chico, we split up and got to live in houses with families. When I say ¨houses¨ I actually mean one room stone huts with grass roofs and straw floors. The houses are so simple that every families owns at least several (in different villages and around each of their potato fields). To cook, we built a wood fire on the floor in the casita. Each meal was potato soup; often supplimented with the special rice and pasta that we brought in from Ocongate. For flavor was salt and dirt. The food was basic, but it was still good. During the day we got live the lives of our families: harvesting potatoes, herding llamas, and sheering sheep. It was absolutely the most rural Ive ever been (wins over the buffalo dung village in Nepal by FAR), and I LOVED experiencing the ancient life and culture of the area.
PACHA MANKA
Upon our arrival in Quiko Chico, the village welcomed us with a Pacha Manka ceremony. This is basically a sacrifice and a feast in honor or Pachamama (mother earth). We caught and killed two rams, and got to help with the skinning and preparing of the meats. I participated in the ritual slaughter of two goats in Nepal, but this experience was different and much more personal. Rather than decapitating the sheep in one strike of the knife (like the goats in Nepal), each sheep was killed by slowly (probably as quickly as possible, but still slowly...) slitting their throughts. After the slaughter, those of us who were willing got to help clean the animal. I have never dealt so closely with such a recently dead animal. There is something very powerful and disturbing about skinning an animal when its body is still warm. This experience has made me see even more clearly the connection between a piece of meat and a living, breathing animal. In fact, the two are inseperable. I think the practice of eating meat is fine, as long as you understand the difference between meat and animal is actually no difference at all.
MIGUEL ANGEL
Miguel Angel is the teenage son of the Dragons contact in Queros. He is also my new big crush. I think he could have been best friends with any of my brothers in Nepal. Just wait until you see pictures of him, youll fall in love, too!
SEÑOR PAPAS
In the Quechua language, there is only one word that means Father, Hope, and Potato. Mr. Aloo Aloo Potato Head Principal Sir (one of my favorite characters from Nepal) has finally met his match in every citizen of Nacion Queros! I have NEVER met people as passionate about- or dependent on- potatoes. Potatoes are the only food that grows in Queros, and as I mentioned before, they eat them everyday. There are over 200 types of potatoes grown in Queros, and each person knows every single type by look and flavor. Each day, men would open up woven mantas (like blankets) on the earth and lay boiled potatoes on them to eat. They pick them up one by one, carefully peel them, and consume them graciously. If you think I am exagerating about these peoples love of potatoes, then you are wrong.
FISH FARM
I have grown up with the knowlege that fish farming is bad: pollution, contamination, etc. So when I found out that Quiko Chico has a new fish farm project, I was pretty sceptical. Will it ruin their pristine environment? Will it inhibit their ancient habit of migrating their homes and fields, thus depleting the local soil? Yet for a community whose diet consists of only potatoes, the fish would provide important nutrients to combat malnutricion. I later found out that this fish farming technology isnt as new as I thought to the community. The Incan Empire maintained a practice of fish farming hundreds of years ago, too. The Quiko farm, being on such a small scale and so removed from modern cities, would probably use less chemicals and produce less waste than the fish farms that I am familiar with. On our last day in Quiko Chico, we had a feast of fried trout from the new project (with boiled potatoes, of course)...and I actually ate it. There you have it folks: the first meat I have eaten in years! I dont feel guilty about it, but I am still not sure about my opinion of the farm project. Will it help or harm the community? Only time will tell, I guess.
PONY RIDES
I got to ride out of Quiko Chico to Ocongate on a horse! Actually, it was a pony/mule, since calling it a horse would imply that it was big enough to ride. Despite my worry that I was slowly killing the animal under my weight, it was really fun. I rode bareback with no reins, only a single rope tied to one side of the horses face...try stearing a horse THAT way!
A day later we piled our stuff and ourselves into an open-bed truck bound for the snowy pass above Quiko (a village a part of Nacion Queros). From the pass we hiked down into Quiko. We spent more time than planned in Quiko. We waited for Alex (still sick with Dengue) to ride a horse into the village a day late. Then a furious hail storm (WHY are we ALWAYS caught in winter weather?!) kept us from moving on. The next day three sickies (Alex, Ecca, and Caiti) rode out (headed back to the clinic in Cusco for more care), and the rest of us hiked down to Quiko Chico (¨little Quiko¨) to begin our homestays.
In Quiko Chico we lived with families and learned more about the ancient culture of Queros.
I wasnt sure how to go about explainting the past week, so Ive organized it by topic, the easiest way I know how:
NACTION QUEROS
Nacion Queros is a community of people who have maganed to preserve Incan tradition and culture. They marry within the community to preserve Incan blood, too. They speak only Quechua; their knowledge of Spanish language is about as equal as mine, sometimes even worse! The women would always yell things at us in Quechua, and they didnt understand why we didnt know what they were saying. Nature is a very important part of the preserved Incan culture and life. To them, the all of the earth is living! Water has energy, and the mountains (the ¨Apus¨) are guardians. Each day we would chew coca and offer thanks to the Apus; they know each mountain by name. The people have the ability to sit on the ground and listen to the earth, who offers them advise and wisdom. The Andean enviroment around Queros is nearly inhospitable. It is bitter cold, the altitude makes even simple tasks difficult, and the only food that grows is potatoes. So WHY have people chosen to live here for so many centuries? According to the people, the land around Queros is some of the most sacred in the world. Even in my short time there, I was able to sense its holiness, too.
WEAVINGS
Weaving is a huge part of life in Queros, and one of their only means of livelyhood. The complicated patterns and advanced techniques have been passed down since the time of the Inca. The textiles are truely the most incredible Ive even seen! Every man and woman in the town is constantly spinning yarn from llama or sheep wool- they do it as necessarily and unconsiously as they breathe. Upon first arriving, we received a display of textiles that would make a rainbow look dull. We ALL took advantange and nearly bought out the town.
HOMESTAYS
In Quiko Chico, we split up and got to live in houses with families. When I say ¨houses¨ I actually mean one room stone huts with grass roofs and straw floors. The houses are so simple that every families owns at least several (in different villages and around each of their potato fields). To cook, we built a wood fire on the floor in the casita. Each meal was potato soup; often supplimented with the special rice and pasta that we brought in from Ocongate. For flavor was salt and dirt. The food was basic, but it was still good. During the day we got live the lives of our families: harvesting potatoes, herding llamas, and sheering sheep. It was absolutely the most rural Ive ever been (wins over the buffalo dung village in Nepal by FAR), and I LOVED experiencing the ancient life and culture of the area.
PACHA MANKA
Upon our arrival in Quiko Chico, the village welcomed us with a Pacha Manka ceremony. This is basically a sacrifice and a feast in honor or Pachamama (mother earth). We caught and killed two rams, and got to help with the skinning and preparing of the meats. I participated in the ritual slaughter of two goats in Nepal, but this experience was different and much more personal. Rather than decapitating the sheep in one strike of the knife (like the goats in Nepal), each sheep was killed by slowly (probably as quickly as possible, but still slowly...) slitting their throughts. After the slaughter, those of us who were willing got to help clean the animal. I have never dealt so closely with such a recently dead animal. There is something very powerful and disturbing about skinning an animal when its body is still warm. This experience has made me see even more clearly the connection between a piece of meat and a living, breathing animal. In fact, the two are inseperable. I think the practice of eating meat is fine, as long as you understand the difference between meat and animal is actually no difference at all.
MIGUEL ANGEL
Miguel Angel is the teenage son of the Dragons contact in Queros. He is also my new big crush. I think he could have been best friends with any of my brothers in Nepal. Just wait until you see pictures of him, youll fall in love, too!
SEÑOR PAPAS
In the Quechua language, there is only one word that means Father, Hope, and Potato. Mr. Aloo Aloo Potato Head Principal Sir (one of my favorite characters from Nepal) has finally met his match in every citizen of Nacion Queros! I have NEVER met people as passionate about- or dependent on- potatoes. Potatoes are the only food that grows in Queros, and as I mentioned before, they eat them everyday. There are over 200 types of potatoes grown in Queros, and each person knows every single type by look and flavor. Each day, men would open up woven mantas (like blankets) on the earth and lay boiled potatoes on them to eat. They pick them up one by one, carefully peel them, and consume them graciously. If you think I am exagerating about these peoples love of potatoes, then you are wrong.
FISH FARM
I have grown up with the knowlege that fish farming is bad: pollution, contamination, etc. So when I found out that Quiko Chico has a new fish farm project, I was pretty sceptical. Will it ruin their pristine environment? Will it inhibit their ancient habit of migrating their homes and fields, thus depleting the local soil? Yet for a community whose diet consists of only potatoes, the fish would provide important nutrients to combat malnutricion. I later found out that this fish farming technology isnt as new as I thought to the community. The Incan Empire maintained a practice of fish farming hundreds of years ago, too. The Quiko farm, being on such a small scale and so removed from modern cities, would probably use less chemicals and produce less waste than the fish farms that I am familiar with. On our last day in Quiko Chico, we had a feast of fried trout from the new project (with boiled potatoes, of course)...and I actually ate it. There you have it folks: the first meat I have eaten in years! I dont feel guilty about it, but I am still not sure about my opinion of the farm project. Will it help or harm the community? Only time will tell, I guess.
PONY RIDES
I got to ride out of Quiko Chico to Ocongate on a horse! Actually, it was a pony/mule, since calling it a horse would imply that it was big enough to ride. Despite my worry that I was slowly killing the animal under my weight, it was really fun. I rode bareback with no reins, only a single rope tied to one side of the horses face...try stearing a horse THAT way!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Mr. Bot Fly
One last exciting update from Cusco before we leave for Queros: We have three bot flies in our group! Bot flies lay eggs on mosquitos, who then deposit the eggs in peoples skin, where they hatch into larva and grow. We realized last night that the ´infected bugbites´ that three friends had might very well be bot fly larva, so we took measures to get them out. First, we blew cigarett smoke onto them (the pictures of this are HILARIOUS; some of them may be on facebook by now). Then we taped raw meat over them for the night.
This morning, sure enough, the little larva came crawling out! If you´ve ever seen a worm crawling out of someone´s skin, you understand why I dont think I´ll be eating for a few days...
This morning, sure enough, the little larva came crawling out! If you´ve ever seen a worm crawling out of someone´s skin, you understand why I dont think I´ll be eating for a few days...
Jesus Saves
After much talk and planning, I am finally here in Cusco! The bus ride was pretty nice; plenty of leg room AND they served us tea and snacks (no joke!). Boarder control was a breeze. I realized that this was my first time ever walking through a boarder- Ive always flown until now.
Today Gina followed a nun to a money changer and she got the lowest exchange rate yet. It just shows that Jesus does save...save money, at least.
I havent seen much of Cusco yet, just the area close to our hostel. There is a great market with SO many different things: Almonds, dried apricots, smoothies, and other things that have always been rare to find in Bolivia. I even found SQUOOSH (which, as some of you know, is my favorite vegetable from nepal). From what Ive seen, Peru is pretty beautiful. It is similar to Bolivia, but everything looks a bit wealthier. There are BEAUTIFUL churches all over this city. There are even cross walks, with little flashing green men to direct you across!
Tomorrow we will begin our voyage to Nación Queros. When we will actually arrive is uncertain, as things often are in this part of the world. We probably wont be able to charter our second leg of transportion until Wednesday morning, and because of snow on the road, there is no telling how far the truck can actually take us. We will have to end up hiking in the rest of the way. Like everything else, our return to Cusco isnt set...we will probably be back in about a week. Until then, I´ll be out of touch!
Today Gina followed a nun to a money changer and she got the lowest exchange rate yet. It just shows that Jesus does save...save money, at least.
I havent seen much of Cusco yet, just the area close to our hostel. There is a great market with SO many different things: Almonds, dried apricots, smoothies, and other things that have always been rare to find in Bolivia. I even found SQUOOSH (which, as some of you know, is my favorite vegetable from nepal). From what Ive seen, Peru is pretty beautiful. It is similar to Bolivia, but everything looks a bit wealthier. There are BEAUTIFUL churches all over this city. There are even cross walks, with little flashing green men to direct you across!
Tomorrow we will begin our voyage to Nación Queros. When we will actually arrive is uncertain, as things often are in this part of the world. We probably wont be able to charter our second leg of transportion until Wednesday morning, and because of snow on the road, there is no telling how far the truck can actually take us. We will have to end up hiking in the rest of the way. Like everything else, our return to Cusco isnt set...we will probably be back in about a week. Until then, I´ll be out of touch!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Feliz Pascua
After a 19 hour bus ride, we are finally back in La Paz.
It took us an extra day to leave Rurre because Alex, unfortunately, contracted Dengue Fever. And salmonella. AND paracites. Needless to say, he wasnt feeling too hot. He´s feeling much better now and Ive never met someone who is so positive when they feel so shitty. Only Alex would go behind the nurse´s back to speed up his IV so he could leave sooner!
In the States, Easter´s approach has probably been pretty obvious. But here in Bolivia, it has really snuck up on me! I didnt even realize it was Holy Week (Semana Santa) until Wednesday night when we finally questioned why the hardware store was playing The Passion of the Christ on their TV. (If youve ever seen the movie, you understand why it could be a little unnerving to see playing carelessly in a tienda...)On Thursday night, a few of us went to the Catholic church along the Plaza. It was a beautiful experience, and it reminded me a lot of the Anglican Church in Belize City which I have spent several Easter Sundays attending.
We´ve had one day to stretch our legs after the trip from Rurrenbaque(I accomplished this mostly by walking around to shop. A lot.). Now I will be spending all of Easter day back on a bus. This time, we will be heading to Peru. We will spent a short day in Cuzco then head to a community called Nación Queros. Queros is a rural community that has managed to perserve Incan culture despite colonization and modernization. It is supposed to have some of the most amazing weavings and textiles in the world. We will be doing homestays there for a few days before moving on to explore a bit more around Cuzco, and maybe Lake Titicaca.
It took us an extra day to leave Rurre because Alex, unfortunately, contracted Dengue Fever. And salmonella. AND paracites. Needless to say, he wasnt feeling too hot. He´s feeling much better now and Ive never met someone who is so positive when they feel so shitty. Only Alex would go behind the nurse´s back to speed up his IV so he could leave sooner!
In the States, Easter´s approach has probably been pretty obvious. But here in Bolivia, it has really snuck up on me! I didnt even realize it was Holy Week (Semana Santa) until Wednesday night when we finally questioned why the hardware store was playing The Passion of the Christ on their TV. (If youve ever seen the movie, you understand why it could be a little unnerving to see playing carelessly in a tienda...)On Thursday night, a few of us went to the Catholic church along the Plaza. It was a beautiful experience, and it reminded me a lot of the Anglican Church in Belize City which I have spent several Easter Sundays attending.
We´ve had one day to stretch our legs after the trip from Rurrenbaque(I accomplished this mostly by walking around to shop. A lot.). Now I will be spending all of Easter day back on a bus. This time, we will be heading to Peru. We will spent a short day in Cuzco then head to a community called Nación Queros. Queros is a rural community that has managed to perserve Incan culture despite colonization and modernization. It is supposed to have some of the most amazing weavings and textiles in the world. We will be doing homestays there for a few days before moving on to explore a bit more around Cuzco, and maybe Lake Titicaca.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
¨Dont Touch! Its Spikey and Covered in Ants!¨
The amazon is...intense.
It is hotter and buggier than you could ever imagine. There are trees that walk (actually), poisonous worms that look like mustaches, trees that are 2,000 years old, and bullet ants that are 2 inches long. THERE ARE SO MANY ANTS. As we hiked through the jungle, we heard descriptions and warnings for all the plants and animals we saw. Almost all of them included the phrase ¨dont touch this...its spikey, poisonous, and covered in ants.¨
Our first few days on the boat trip were really nice. Actually, it was like being on vacation! Everything was cooked and cleaned for us by the guides, and we spent most of the day enjoying ourselves in the shade on the boat. Sometimes we would adventure into the jungle and walk to waterfalls and swimming holes, were we cool off and hide from bugs under the water. Our last night we went mud diving into quick sand, which was an experience I will NOT forget.
On our thrid day, we arrived in Asuncion, a small village of 35 families, no electricity, and community water spigots. We slept together in the old, empty school house, crammed under seven mosquito nets which were always swarming with insects every morning. The group split up among several houses for meals everyday. The ¨vegetarian hut,¨ as we fondly called it, was some of the best food Ive had in Bolivia so far. Our candlelight dinners were always a highlight of the day.
Asuncion is a very tropical town with a tropical lifestyle. It was never decided what we would be doing until five minutes before we were going to do it.
The purpose of our stay in Asuncion was ¨volunteering.¨ I put ¨volunteering¨ quotes because they really did us the favor by finding work for us to do. Usually they just put machetes in our hand and had us chop stuff down. We spent several days clearing a trail for tourists, and another afternoon chopping down trees and vines in a banana field. My favorite activity was ¨volunteer birdwatching¨ which I did with a Bolivian biologist conducting a census on green and yellow macaw parrots in the area. It was a slow project and required a tolerence of boredom, but it was truly incredible to watch dozens of birds flock back to their nests as the sun began to lower.
The rest of our days were occupied with various tasks. One night I went fishing with all ¨the boys¨ and a few village men. We caught one fish the whole night and we didnt get back until nearly 1:00am, but it was still a good time. It was cool to be on the water so late and wonder what creatures were hiding in the dark jungle along the shore.
In the afternoons, when the heat was too hot to handle, we would shed our clothes and ¨bathe¨ in the river. The river was so full of mud and silt that we would usually come out dirtier than we started, but it was still always nice to cool off. After swimming, we would sit around and eat fruit.
The best part of being in the amazon is the fruit. I never dreamed that Id pick a starfruit off of a starfruit tree to eat, but now I have. I have also eaten more oranges and grapefruits than I have in my life combined; they simply COVER the ground in Asuncion and all the surrounding areas. All the things we pay high prices for in the exotic produce secion of Food Lion are found here, growing wild in the jungle.
Asuncion was such a lovely place; although we´d been there less than a week, I was sad to leave this morning.
After an hour long boat ride we arrived in the Amazonian tourist hub of Rurenbaque. With the paved roads, electricity, and large number of gringos, I am experiencing a bit of culture shock. We will be here for another day, then head back to La Paz to plan the last (!!!!) 3 weeks of our journey.
It is hotter and buggier than you could ever imagine. There are trees that walk (actually), poisonous worms that look like mustaches, trees that are 2,000 years old, and bullet ants that are 2 inches long. THERE ARE SO MANY ANTS. As we hiked through the jungle, we heard descriptions and warnings for all the plants and animals we saw. Almost all of them included the phrase ¨dont touch this...its spikey, poisonous, and covered in ants.¨
Our first few days on the boat trip were really nice. Actually, it was like being on vacation! Everything was cooked and cleaned for us by the guides, and we spent most of the day enjoying ourselves in the shade on the boat. Sometimes we would adventure into the jungle and walk to waterfalls and swimming holes, were we cool off and hide from bugs under the water. Our last night we went mud diving into quick sand, which was an experience I will NOT forget.
On our thrid day, we arrived in Asuncion, a small village of 35 families, no electricity, and community water spigots. We slept together in the old, empty school house, crammed under seven mosquito nets which were always swarming with insects every morning. The group split up among several houses for meals everyday. The ¨vegetarian hut,¨ as we fondly called it, was some of the best food Ive had in Bolivia so far. Our candlelight dinners were always a highlight of the day.
Asuncion is a very tropical town with a tropical lifestyle. It was never decided what we would be doing until five minutes before we were going to do it.
The purpose of our stay in Asuncion was ¨volunteering.¨ I put ¨volunteering¨ quotes because they really did us the favor by finding work for us to do. Usually they just put machetes in our hand and had us chop stuff down. We spent several days clearing a trail for tourists, and another afternoon chopping down trees and vines in a banana field. My favorite activity was ¨volunteer birdwatching¨ which I did with a Bolivian biologist conducting a census on green and yellow macaw parrots in the area. It was a slow project and required a tolerence of boredom, but it was truly incredible to watch dozens of birds flock back to their nests as the sun began to lower.
The rest of our days were occupied with various tasks. One night I went fishing with all ¨the boys¨ and a few village men. We caught one fish the whole night and we didnt get back until nearly 1:00am, but it was still a good time. It was cool to be on the water so late and wonder what creatures were hiding in the dark jungle along the shore.
In the afternoons, when the heat was too hot to handle, we would shed our clothes and ¨bathe¨ in the river. The river was so full of mud and silt that we would usually come out dirtier than we started, but it was still always nice to cool off. After swimming, we would sit around and eat fruit.
The best part of being in the amazon is the fruit. I never dreamed that Id pick a starfruit off of a starfruit tree to eat, but now I have. I have also eaten more oranges and grapefruits than I have in my life combined; they simply COVER the ground in Asuncion and all the surrounding areas. All the things we pay high prices for in the exotic produce secion of Food Lion are found here, growing wild in the jungle.
Asuncion was such a lovely place; although we´d been there less than a week, I was sad to leave this morning.
After an hour long boat ride we arrived in the Amazonian tourist hub of Rurenbaque. With the paved roads, electricity, and large number of gringos, I am experiencing a bit of culture shock. We will be here for another day, then head back to La Paz to plan the last (!!!!) 3 weeks of our journey.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
El Plan
Bellow is ´the plan´ for our next few weeks, but take it with a grain of salt because as we have learned recently, things dont always happen the way they are supposed to...
10 hour bus to Guanay
2-3 day boat trip down the Amazon River
4-5 days in Asunción, working on a community project making thached roofs
some days in Rurenbaque, looking into rainforest ecology and HOPEFULLY eating wild chocolate
then back to la paz!
10 hour bus to Guanay
2-3 day boat trip down the Amazon River
4-5 days in Asunción, working on a community project making thached roofs
some days in Rurenbaque, looking into rainforest ecology and HOPEFULLY eating wild chocolate
then back to la paz!
Its a Small World After All
Its a small world, after all.
I was sitting in the lobby of our hostel in La Paz when I suddenly saw Emily McCain walk down the stairs! I knew she was in this part of the world, but neither one of us was supposed to be in La Paz at the time. Who would have guessed we´d end up in the same hostel!
Emily was just another familiarity to add to the rest of the comforts of La Paz: touristy shops, Israeli food, supermarcados, paved roads. Seeing her made me realize why Ive been so uncomfortable in the city. She made me realize that familiarity has become, well, unfamiliar.
Today is the official marker of ¨one month left¨ in Bolivia. AH! What am I going to do when I have to stay in one place? When everything is familiar? I guess I will have to cross that bridge when I get there.
We bought bus tickets to Guanay today. Simply getting to the bus terminal was an adventure in itself, due to the protests in the streets and the dynamite being set off in demonstration. Tomorrow morning we will leave La Paz and finally head into the Amazon! The Amazon is a jungle that remains unfamiliar to even those who live there. It is so dense, and it hides so much. I cant wait to explore a bit of it!
I was sitting in the lobby of our hostel in La Paz when I suddenly saw Emily McCain walk down the stairs! I knew she was in this part of the world, but neither one of us was supposed to be in La Paz at the time. Who would have guessed we´d end up in the same hostel!
Emily was just another familiarity to add to the rest of the comforts of La Paz: touristy shops, Israeli food, supermarcados, paved roads. Seeing her made me realize why Ive been so uncomfortable in the city. She made me realize that familiarity has become, well, unfamiliar.
Today is the official marker of ¨one month left¨ in Bolivia. AH! What am I going to do when I have to stay in one place? When everything is familiar? I guess I will have to cross that bridge when I get there.
We bought bus tickets to Guanay today. Simply getting to the bus terminal was an adventure in itself, due to the protests in the streets and the dynamite being set off in demonstration. Tomorrow morning we will leave La Paz and finally head into the Amazon! The Amazon is a jungle that remains unfamiliar to even those who live there. It is so dense, and it hides so much. I cant wait to explore a bit of it!
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Series of Un(Fortunate) events
The past week has been quite an...adventure. Our instructors have asked us not to ´sensationalize,´ and Im a bit overwhelmed thinking about writing out all the details anyways, so I am going to go through the past week as basically as possible and you can infer the details.
Last monday, those of us who stayed in Sorata got into mobilidad and headed out to meet up with the rest of the trekking group. The road we took was, well, not really a road. It was mostly a foot trail covered with big rocks and often drowning in water that flowed from the mountainsides around us. At times, the road hugged cliffs so close we had to make 3-point-turns to make it up the switchbacks. The climax was when the driver stopped and declared that it was simply impossible to go on; the road was too un-roady and it was f***ing up his car. When we pressed him harder, he demanded a double in his salary and we continued onward. After the six hours I spent sitting on the floor in the trunk, I was happy to be reunited with the group at their campsite.
That night it was cold, but clear for the first time in a while. The stars were beautiful so many of us decided to sleep outside on the grass. It was nice until I woke up in the morning and found my sleeping bag COVERED in ice. Even the part around my head was icy- the part where a body releases most heat- if that gives you an idea of what temperature was inside my sleeping bag.
I stuffed my icy sleeping bag into my backpack, and my backpack was added to the pile for the small mule heard to carry. Despite the addition of six new trekkers to the group, no extra mules were found to be hired, so we continued on with the same number of animals, loaded with twice the amount of stuff.
Part of the nine hour day included climbing up and over a snowy pass. Despite the snow, we were warm because of the sun. At the top, we took a break to snap photos of the view, make snow angels, and have a snowball fight. Close behind us came the mules, and that is when the trouble began. The mules couldnt pass through the snow because it was too deep. Several of them got stuck and had to be push/pulled out by the mule handlers; it was actually very sad and scary to watch. As we sat among the rocks, brainstorming possible solutions, the clouds rolled in bringing sleet, rain, and snow. It became clear that the mules would not be able to make it over the pass without help, so we headed back up to the top to carry all our gear, by hand, to the bottom. Loaded down with full backpacks, day packs, a tank of kerosene, a large gas stove, tents, and food, we headed back over the pass in what had quickly escalated to a HAIL storm!
At the bottom of the snow, as we paused to reload the mules, the skies cleared and the sun reappeared. Continuing on, we couldnt help but notice that the weather was matching our situation.
But as we have learned, sunshine in Bolivia only lasts for so long. By the time we were setting up tents that evening, it was pouring rain. Before the last tent stakes were put in, it was snowing. And it kept snowing. And SNOWING. In fact, it kept snowing all night- so much that it weighed down the walls of our tent until we were all wrapped around the center pole just to stay dry. The snow on the ground rose up so high that it blocked the airspace around the bottom of the tent, and we had to dig tunnels to create breathing room. Perhaps the worst thing was that my sleeping bag (like many others´) was wet from the ice that had melted off of it in my backpack during the day. Just because synthetic sleeping bags still insulate when they are wet doesnt mean that they are warm or comfortable.
Most of us stayed awake all night because of the cold, but that doesnt mean the whole time was miserable. Between shivers, we laughed a lot at the crazy situation we found ourselves in; it honestly felt surreal.
The morning was a blessing. The sun came out, strong and hot, and when I emerged from the tent (harder than you might expect, since our zipper pull had broken off from the cold the previous night...) I found myself in a winter wonder land. We got the news (good or bad, depending on your view) that due to the harsh weather and the injured mules, we would be getting picked up early from the trek. All we had to do was walk a few hours to Amawayu (a small village with a small road) where our mobilidad would be waiting to take us to La Paz.
With the exitement of getting out several days ahead of schedule, we walked fast and arrived at Amawayu early. So we waited for the mobilidad. And waited. After many hours we learned that our transport had been spotted on the road, blocked by too much snow. So we settled down in the local school house for a warmer, dryer night.
We spent the following day waiting for our new transportation- a standard pickup truck that claimed 17 people + gear would have no problem fitting in the truck bed. Seven hours late, our driver arrived, as promised, but then delivered the news that he was no longer available to take us back. We headed back into the school house for another night.
Through all of this, our three lovely instructors were saints. They spent hours on the satelite phone, trying to contract (and re-contract, and re-re-contract) transportation, and worrying that we were cold, upset, or frustrated. They neednt have worried so much, because despite all the adversities, the experience was pretty incredible. In fact, Id call it almost Fortunate. The snow brought us together and made it clear how much everyone was willing to sacrifice for each other. And being stranded in Amawayu was actually a lot of fun: we made banana pudding, played card games, and stayed up all night talking.
The instructors, more than anyone, needed a break after dealing with our ´adventure´ so we have pushed back our Amazon trip and have spent the past few days in La Paz. Ive eaten falafal twice since we´ve been here, and Im pretty happy. Our hostel has TVs in some rooms, and Harry Potter 5 was on the other night!!!! I think Dragons is trying to compensate for the ¨difficulties¨ we´ve encountered over the past week by putting us up somewhere nice. Like I said, I never thought the ¨difficulties¨ were too difficult, but Im not complainting about TV and falafal, either!
(shout-out to Michaela, on the off chance you really do read this when you get home!)
Last monday, those of us who stayed in Sorata got into mobilidad and headed out to meet up with the rest of the trekking group. The road we took was, well, not really a road. It was mostly a foot trail covered with big rocks and often drowning in water that flowed from the mountainsides around us. At times, the road hugged cliffs so close we had to make 3-point-turns to make it up the switchbacks. The climax was when the driver stopped and declared that it was simply impossible to go on; the road was too un-roady and it was f***ing up his car. When we pressed him harder, he demanded a double in his salary and we continued onward. After the six hours I spent sitting on the floor in the trunk, I was happy to be reunited with the group at their campsite.
That night it was cold, but clear for the first time in a while. The stars were beautiful so many of us decided to sleep outside on the grass. It was nice until I woke up in the morning and found my sleeping bag COVERED in ice. Even the part around my head was icy- the part where a body releases most heat- if that gives you an idea of what temperature was inside my sleeping bag.
I stuffed my icy sleeping bag into my backpack, and my backpack was added to the pile for the small mule heard to carry. Despite the addition of six new trekkers to the group, no extra mules were found to be hired, so we continued on with the same number of animals, loaded with twice the amount of stuff.
Part of the nine hour day included climbing up and over a snowy pass. Despite the snow, we were warm because of the sun. At the top, we took a break to snap photos of the view, make snow angels, and have a snowball fight. Close behind us came the mules, and that is when the trouble began. The mules couldnt pass through the snow because it was too deep. Several of them got stuck and had to be push/pulled out by the mule handlers; it was actually very sad and scary to watch. As we sat among the rocks, brainstorming possible solutions, the clouds rolled in bringing sleet, rain, and snow. It became clear that the mules would not be able to make it over the pass without help, so we headed back up to the top to carry all our gear, by hand, to the bottom. Loaded down with full backpacks, day packs, a tank of kerosene, a large gas stove, tents, and food, we headed back over the pass in what had quickly escalated to a HAIL storm!
At the bottom of the snow, as we paused to reload the mules, the skies cleared and the sun reappeared. Continuing on, we couldnt help but notice that the weather was matching our situation.
But as we have learned, sunshine in Bolivia only lasts for so long. By the time we were setting up tents that evening, it was pouring rain. Before the last tent stakes were put in, it was snowing. And it kept snowing. And SNOWING. In fact, it kept snowing all night- so much that it weighed down the walls of our tent until we were all wrapped around the center pole just to stay dry. The snow on the ground rose up so high that it blocked the airspace around the bottom of the tent, and we had to dig tunnels to create breathing room. Perhaps the worst thing was that my sleeping bag (like many others´) was wet from the ice that had melted off of it in my backpack during the day. Just because synthetic sleeping bags still insulate when they are wet doesnt mean that they are warm or comfortable.
Most of us stayed awake all night because of the cold, but that doesnt mean the whole time was miserable. Between shivers, we laughed a lot at the crazy situation we found ourselves in; it honestly felt surreal.
The morning was a blessing. The sun came out, strong and hot, and when I emerged from the tent (harder than you might expect, since our zipper pull had broken off from the cold the previous night...) I found myself in a winter wonder land. We got the news (good or bad, depending on your view) that due to the harsh weather and the injured mules, we would be getting picked up early from the trek. All we had to do was walk a few hours to Amawayu (a small village with a small road) where our mobilidad would be waiting to take us to La Paz.
With the exitement of getting out several days ahead of schedule, we walked fast and arrived at Amawayu early. So we waited for the mobilidad. And waited. After many hours we learned that our transport had been spotted on the road, blocked by too much snow. So we settled down in the local school house for a warmer, dryer night.
We spent the following day waiting for our new transportation- a standard pickup truck that claimed 17 people + gear would have no problem fitting in the truck bed. Seven hours late, our driver arrived, as promised, but then delivered the news that he was no longer available to take us back. We headed back into the school house for another night.
Through all of this, our three lovely instructors were saints. They spent hours on the satelite phone, trying to contract (and re-contract, and re-re-contract) transportation, and worrying that we were cold, upset, or frustrated. They neednt have worried so much, because despite all the adversities, the experience was pretty incredible. In fact, Id call it almost Fortunate. The snow brought us together and made it clear how much everyone was willing to sacrifice for each other. And being stranded in Amawayu was actually a lot of fun: we made banana pudding, played card games, and stayed up all night talking.
The instructors, more than anyone, needed a break after dealing with our ´adventure´ so we have pushed back our Amazon trip and have spent the past few days in La Paz. Ive eaten falafal twice since we´ve been here, and Im pretty happy. Our hostel has TVs in some rooms, and Harry Potter 5 was on the other night!!!! I think Dragons is trying to compensate for the ¨difficulties¨ we´ve encountered over the past week by putting us up somewhere nice. Like I said, I never thought the ¨difficulties¨ were too difficult, but Im not complainting about TV and falafal, either!
(shout-out to Michaela, on the off chance you really do read this when you get home!)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Catching My Breath
Of course its been another busy week. But I made myself a To Do List and Ive finally checked them (almost) all off! I finished Spanish classes, took my exam, read three incredible books, spent time with my host family, and recovered my photos (which, horribly enough, were lost for a while after my memory card got a virus at the internet cafe). The majority of the group left for a trek this morning. Myself and a few others will be meeting up with them along the trail in a day or two. Its wonderfully peaceful to be away from the group with fewer responsibilities. Ive been drinking lots of api, reading up on hallucinogenic plants in the amazon, learning about how bees and other insects have abstract intelligence, and extended my research on the syncratism of religion here. Ive also been spending a lot of time on a nearby farm, with a wonderful bolivian man named David! David has an adorable cat, and has been teaching me a bit about agriculture in the Andes. After our trek, we will be boarding a boat to travel down the Amazon to a rural jungle village. Apparently, people in this village hunt for wild boar. I find this incredible because I just learned that sometimes packs of wild boars will attack, kill, and eat people in the forest. The Amazon is about to be CRAZYYYY. So the last thing on my To Do List before I leave? Shower. Its been a week since I last bathed, so I figure it is about time.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Better Than a Goat
With such busy days, Im usually not home in time to help cook dinner. If ever I am home, and ask my host mom if she needs help, I am almost always rejected. But on Saturday night she finally let me help. Just as I was about to ask WHAT we were going to cook that night, Paula came in holding a big blue bag. She let me look into the bag and in the bottom I saw a little ball of fur. A ginea pig. A live ginea pig. Of course the ONE night I get to help with dinner, we would be slaughtering a ginea pig... Luckly I didnt have to pull the knife, but they made me stand by and watch as Dona Machlovia slit its throat over the outdoor drain. Honestly, it was much better than watching a goat being killed during Dashain; less blood, the head didnt roll off, and it didnt kick as it was bleeding. Mostly my job was dumping and refilling the bloody water as my mother and sister worked to remove the fur. I wasnt upset that we killed a ginea pig. Actually, I am suprised it is the first animal slaughter I have experienced in Bolivia, considering all the meat that is eaten in this country. Take my word, Bolivia is NOT the country to visit if you want to be vegan. That is not to say that I have been starving, or that I have been forced to eat meat at every meal. Lunch is always soup (always some sort of meat broth, but they kindly exlude the piece of bone in my bowl). I eat a LOT of bread here, for breakfast and for tea time everyday, plus anytime I want a snack since it is cheap and easy to find on the street. For dinner it is usually rice, potatoes, or rice and potatoes. Vegetables are NOT in high demand in Bolivian cuisine, but the fruit here is amazing and easy to pick up at the market.
Highlights of the Week
I cant believe I have less than a week left in Sorata. Last week flew by, and I realized that I have hardly given any updates about what Ive been doing! In honor of that fact, I have put together a list of the highlights of last week. Spanish classes last week were fun. We spent one day at the local high school, meeting with groups of students and, together, discussing climate change and natural disasters. I was nervous at first, as I tend to get when I have to speak spanish, but it ended up being really fun. For the rest of the week, classes were devoted to practicing our 'performances' for the presentation on our final day. For me, this meant practicing Shakira's "Loba" ("Shewolf"). You can probably guess, but this was NOT work for me! Have I ever mentioned that I LOVE Shakira? On Friday, myself and two other girls performed "Loba" for the group, and the song and dance was a hit. Shakira inspired my homestay-life as well. After lunch one day last week, my host-sisters turned on Shakira videos on the TV. We spent the rest of the afternoon watching them and trying to learn her dances and laughing a lot. My host-mother layed on the bed next to us, watching us and laughing. But Shakira hasnt been the only music/dancing at my house. The other night my host sisters suggested that we play "modelo." The result was me playing Missy Elliot on my ipod, and the girls strutting around my room, wrapped up in my scarves and dresses. It was pretty hysterical; Im just glad they couldnt understand any of the lyrics. My last highlight of the week: a run I went on over the weekend. I was feeling good (a little hot), listening to some Mumford and Sons, when it started to sprinkle rain. Then I turned up a switch back and suddenly the best rainbow I have ever seen was revealed. The whole arc was fully visible, and the colors looked so solid. I could see the end of it, and although there was no pot of gold, I felt like I should be able to run right up to it and touch it. Now I kind of understand the guy in the "double rainbow" Utube video; I was actually yelling and crying when I saw this rainbow. No lie.
Nepal Nostalgia
Perhaps some of you have realized this, but being away from Nepal has been hard for me. I never get homesick, but now Im home-away-from-home-sick. Its actually resulted in some tough moments for me. I think of my family in Nepal every day, and I am still stuck with old habits like accepting things with my right hand. I miss squat toilets. I still get Nepali words confused with Spanish words, especially when I speak quickly. Dont get me wrong, I am enjoying my time here and Im glad to experience a new place, but I miss Nepal. A sudden gust of Asian influence came in last week when Shannon (Dragons' Himalayas course director) came to visit. She has been living in Nepal for just over 10 years. She wore a kurta surwal and a scarf (I have one just like it!) that was undeniably Nepali. When we went on a hike, she wore a lunghi (skirt), and I couldnt help but be reminded of Cora and I's trek to Annapurna. It was nice to have someone to talk with about Kathmandu traffic and eating Dal Baht. She was able to justify some of my previously unbeleived statements about Nepal (i.e. "I've never been on a bus in Nepal without at least one person getting motion sick" or "Nepali people are friendlier than people here"). She was even familiar with the Bal Mandir Orphanage! In addition to here Nepali vibe, Shannon brought us some actual Nepali things: spicy candies, which we finished in a day; binidis, which I convenced everyone to wear on our last day of Spanish class; and Tibetan prayer flags, which are now hanging in the Dragons' house, right above a wall of Andean chakanahs. I see the prayer flags everytime I walk into the Dragons' house, but the reminder actually doesnt make me miss Nepal more. Instead, seeing them hanging there with the chakanahs every day has helped me realize that I can take part of my Nepal with me where ever I go. Okay, its cheesey, I know...but it helps. And its true.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Santa Cruz
I am NOT in Santa Cruz right now, but I wish I was.
1. They have sloths in the main plaza
2. SHAKIRA IS SINGING IN CONCERT TONIGHT
gah, why am I stuck here in Sorata.
1. They have sloths in the main plaza
2. SHAKIRA IS SINGING IN CONCERT TONIGHT
gah, why am I stuck here in Sorata.
Laguna Glaciar
Last Saturday morning eight of us left Sorata (elevation: 8,000 ft) loaded up our donkeys (literally), and began the hike up to laguna Glaciar.
The five hour trek up to base camp (14,000 ft) only took us two hours. It was raining the whole time, and EVERYTHING ended up wet. I was tired, but I stayed awake the whole night, probably because of altitude-induced insomnia. Poor Evi was sick and spent the whole night puking out our tent door.
After almost no sleep, I woke up at 5:00 the next morning to prepare for the ´big day´ up to the laguna. We left camp at 7:30. It was cold, dark, and (of course) rainy. Two girls stayed behind at base camp- Evi, because of illness, and Michaela, because of altitude sickness- so our group was even smaller than it already was.
The hike to Laguna Glaciar was intense. Possibly more intense than any hike Ive ever done. There were lots of sketchy parts and tons of slippery granite rock faces to traverse (in the RAIN). At one point we had to rock climb up a huge granite slab. Literally rock climb. We fashioned a make-shift belay using a rope and made our way up the solid slab using veins as foot holds. Needless to say, I had to get over my fear of steep, wet rocks. For the last 45 minutes we were hiking through snow. I actually got chunks of ice in my boots!
We finally arrived at the laguna at 11:30, which was way earlier than any other group before us. Our guide told us that lots of groups dont even make it to the top because of risks, altitude complications, not walking fast enough, etc. Because of the rains, our instructors didnt think we´d make it there either, let alone so early! Honestly, I was really proud of our group. Everyone was really efficient, motiviated, and postive despite the horrible weather.
At the lake, there is supposed to be a beautiful view: an alpine lake surrounded by some of the holiest mountains in the Andes. Unfortunately, the clouds were so dense that we could barely see 20 feet in front of us. The lake in front of us (covered in clouds) looked exactly like the lake at base camp (also covered in clouds). Basically we hiked for four hours and climbed 2,500 feet to get the same view we had where we started.
After a brief lunch, we started to head down, and the weather got even worse! The rain turned to sleet, and eventually it started snowing! SNOW!
Despite the bad weather and slippery downhill rocks, the hike down was better than I expected. We arrived back at base camp after a few hours and sat around, drinking hot drinks until dinner.
Although it was wet, cold, difficult, and scary, the hike was worth it even without a great view. It was super intense and I like pushing myself.
By the time we packed up the next morning for the hike back down to Sorata, everything I had brought was wet. Even my sleeping bag was soaked, which made for a cold, uncomfortable sleep the night before. Usually I love camping, but I was excited for this trip to end just so I could get DRY.
In the afternoon, there was sun in Sorata! Im not sure if Ive ever been so happy to see the sun. I sat on the highest balcony in my house and enjoyed the warm rays as my clothes hung on the line.
The five hour trek up to base camp (14,000 ft) only took us two hours. It was raining the whole time, and EVERYTHING ended up wet. I was tired, but I stayed awake the whole night, probably because of altitude-induced insomnia. Poor Evi was sick and spent the whole night puking out our tent door.
After almost no sleep, I woke up at 5:00 the next morning to prepare for the ´big day´ up to the laguna. We left camp at 7:30. It was cold, dark, and (of course) rainy. Two girls stayed behind at base camp- Evi, because of illness, and Michaela, because of altitude sickness- so our group was even smaller than it already was.
The hike to Laguna Glaciar was intense. Possibly more intense than any hike Ive ever done. There were lots of sketchy parts and tons of slippery granite rock faces to traverse (in the RAIN). At one point we had to rock climb up a huge granite slab. Literally rock climb. We fashioned a make-shift belay using a rope and made our way up the solid slab using veins as foot holds. Needless to say, I had to get over my fear of steep, wet rocks. For the last 45 minutes we were hiking through snow. I actually got chunks of ice in my boots!
We finally arrived at the laguna at 11:30, which was way earlier than any other group before us. Our guide told us that lots of groups dont even make it to the top because of risks, altitude complications, not walking fast enough, etc. Because of the rains, our instructors didnt think we´d make it there either, let alone so early! Honestly, I was really proud of our group. Everyone was really efficient, motiviated, and postive despite the horrible weather.
At the lake, there is supposed to be a beautiful view: an alpine lake surrounded by some of the holiest mountains in the Andes. Unfortunately, the clouds were so dense that we could barely see 20 feet in front of us. The lake in front of us (covered in clouds) looked exactly like the lake at base camp (also covered in clouds). Basically we hiked for four hours and climbed 2,500 feet to get the same view we had where we started.
After a brief lunch, we started to head down, and the weather got even worse! The rain turned to sleet, and eventually it started snowing! SNOW!
Despite the bad weather and slippery downhill rocks, the hike down was better than I expected. We arrived back at base camp after a few hours and sat around, drinking hot drinks until dinner.
Although it was wet, cold, difficult, and scary, the hike was worth it even without a great view. It was super intense and I like pushing myself.
By the time we packed up the next morning for the hike back down to Sorata, everything I had brought was wet. Even my sleeping bag was soaked, which made for a cold, uncomfortable sleep the night before. Usually I love camping, but I was excited for this trip to end just so I could get DRY.
In the afternoon, there was sun in Sorata! Im not sure if Ive ever been so happy to see the sun. I sat on the highest balcony in my house and enjoyed the warm rays as my clothes hung on the line.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Setting the Table
When I think of "setting the table" I think of doing chores as a little kid. In the Andes, making a "mesa" (trans: table) is a religious act that is a necessity but certainly not a chore. In fact, it is really a celebration. The entire ritual is dedicated to Pachamama, or Mother Earth. Andean people make mesas as a display of thanksgiving and a request for a blessing.
Yesterday, Don Calixto Quispe came to teach us about the mesa ritual in Andean cosmovision. We all sat in a circle and Don Calixto explained each item and its importance before arranging it into the mesa in the center of the room.
Our mesa started as a blank sheet of paper, but soon grew into a colorful pile of rainbow llama wool, miniature houses, sweets, plastic gold, and silver tinsel. As beautiful as it all was, it eventually hit me: we were performing a ceremony for mother earth, yet the nik-naks in the center were quite un-natural. Aside from the coca leaves that blanketed the base of the mesa, and the flowers that surrounded them, almost nothing came straight from the earth.
Andean cosmovision, which I previously had viewed as a perfect relationship between people and the earth, suddenly seemed not so perfect. Sure, the mesa ritual worships the earth, but it can also be used to bless new office buildings, or even ask for a new car or TV. I concluded that the Altiplano is simply not removed enough from the modernity of western culture and beliefs. Maybe if I travel deep into the Amazon I can find an untouched culture that finally has it right with nature. Then I can sell my posessions, move in with them, and live happily ever after, running through the trees with my new society...
At one point, Don Calixto handed each of us a small waxy minature, representive of a positive trait or a hope for the future. A star for health. A sacret snake for "Pachakuti" (trans: return to Pachamama). A road for the travels ahead of us. Then Don Calixto told us to hold the minatures close to us and, with all of our energy, think of what we are thankful for. This, he said, we were going to give to Pachamama.
It was then that I realized that this ceremony isn´t one of hypocracy. It simply celebrates the natural life and the human life. In fact, I was the one making a distinction between the two; to the Andean people, it is all one life. In the Andes, people can live in a modern society yet still remember that they come from the earth. I can graciously aknowledge the beauty of mountains, and be happy that I have a warm (though very synthetic) coat to wear while I am exploring them.
In Andean cosmovision, both the mountains and my coat have souls and are living. Thus is affirming life, we are affirming those things along with everything else in the world. This idea of affirming life is summed up in the Aymara word "Jallalla," which literally means "life, affirmation of life, and re-affirmation of life." This idea is so important to Andean people that is is represented in every single weaving done in this region through three stripes in the center of the design: the life, and the affirmations on either side.
Don Calixto explained that everyone here, even the poorest people, spend money of fiestas and celebrations because celebrating life is the most important thing. This made a lot of us uneasy. Our travels in Bolivia have made us increasingly aware of our privledges, and along with this comes a lot of guilt. Don Calixto made me realize that it is wasteful to sit around feeling guilty for what I should be feeling thankful for. Celebrating life- all life- is a much better us of the energy that the earth gives us.
Before we place our miniatures around the mesa, Don Calixto had us breathe on them to give them our life and our intention. For me, the minature held my celebration of, and thankfulness for, life and the human world. I gave it a bit of my life, made it real, then gave it to Pachamama.
The last thing Don Calixto gave us were flowers. He told us to look at the flowers and contemplate our life and what we want our life to become. As I stared into blossom, I noticed a lot of bugs crawling in and out of the stamens which I hadnt noticed before. There was my life, teeming with other lives, all made up of and dependent on each other. There, too, was my future: a pluri-biotic system, breathing with the breath of the mountains, and the trees, and the cities, and the houses.
Before us was a pile of colors, plastic metalics, dried leaves, and playful figurines. The mix was both natural and man-made; symbolic and literal; physical and spiritual. Don Calixto asked us, "Wouldn´t it be nice if life looked like this?" In my opinion, if you view life through the right goggles, it does.
Yesterday, Don Calixto Quispe came to teach us about the mesa ritual in Andean cosmovision. We all sat in a circle and Don Calixto explained each item and its importance before arranging it into the mesa in the center of the room.
Our mesa started as a blank sheet of paper, but soon grew into a colorful pile of rainbow llama wool, miniature houses, sweets, plastic gold, and silver tinsel. As beautiful as it all was, it eventually hit me: we were performing a ceremony for mother earth, yet the nik-naks in the center were quite un-natural. Aside from the coca leaves that blanketed the base of the mesa, and the flowers that surrounded them, almost nothing came straight from the earth.
Andean cosmovision, which I previously had viewed as a perfect relationship between people and the earth, suddenly seemed not so perfect. Sure, the mesa ritual worships the earth, but it can also be used to bless new office buildings, or even ask for a new car or TV. I concluded that the Altiplano is simply not removed enough from the modernity of western culture and beliefs. Maybe if I travel deep into the Amazon I can find an untouched culture that finally has it right with nature. Then I can sell my posessions, move in with them, and live happily ever after, running through the trees with my new society...
At one point, Don Calixto handed each of us a small waxy minature, representive of a positive trait or a hope for the future. A star for health. A sacret snake for "Pachakuti" (trans: return to Pachamama). A road for the travels ahead of us. Then Don Calixto told us to hold the minatures close to us and, with all of our energy, think of what we are thankful for. This, he said, we were going to give to Pachamama.
It was then that I realized that this ceremony isn´t one of hypocracy. It simply celebrates the natural life and the human life. In fact, I was the one making a distinction between the two; to the Andean people, it is all one life. In the Andes, people can live in a modern society yet still remember that they come from the earth. I can graciously aknowledge the beauty of mountains, and be happy that I have a warm (though very synthetic) coat to wear while I am exploring them.
In Andean cosmovision, both the mountains and my coat have souls and are living. Thus is affirming life, we are affirming those things along with everything else in the world. This idea of affirming life is summed up in the Aymara word "Jallalla," which literally means "life, affirmation of life, and re-affirmation of life." This idea is so important to Andean people that is is represented in every single weaving done in this region through three stripes in the center of the design: the life, and the affirmations on either side.
Don Calixto explained that everyone here, even the poorest people, spend money of fiestas and celebrations because celebrating life is the most important thing. This made a lot of us uneasy. Our travels in Bolivia have made us increasingly aware of our privledges, and along with this comes a lot of guilt. Don Calixto made me realize that it is wasteful to sit around feeling guilty for what I should be feeling thankful for. Celebrating life- all life- is a much better us of the energy that the earth gives us.
Before we place our miniatures around the mesa, Don Calixto had us breathe on them to give them our life and our intention. For me, the minature held my celebration of, and thankfulness for, life and the human world. I gave it a bit of my life, made it real, then gave it to Pachamama.
The last thing Don Calixto gave us were flowers. He told us to look at the flowers and contemplate our life and what we want our life to become. As I stared into blossom, I noticed a lot of bugs crawling in and out of the stamens which I hadnt noticed before. There was my life, teeming with other lives, all made up of and dependent on each other. There, too, was my future: a pluri-biotic system, breathing with the breath of the mountains, and the trees, and the cities, and the houses.
Before us was a pile of colors, plastic metalics, dried leaves, and playful figurines. The mix was both natural and man-made; symbolic and literal; physical and spiritual. Don Calixto asked us, "Wouldn´t it be nice if life looked like this?" In my opinion, if you view life through the right goggles, it does.
Mi Casa Boliviana
Im finally settling into life here. I thought life would slow down for the group in Sorata, but we have been so busy that Im hardly ´home´ except for meals and nighttime. I was worried I would have too much time sitting around my homestay with nothing to do, but the truth is that I wish I was there more!
My mother, Doña Machlovia, is so nice. I only understand half of what she says before she starts laughing at me, but I still have fun sitting in the kitchen with her as she makes lunch. She promised that someday soon she would teach me how to make humienta, one of my favorite bolivian foods.
Ive also met a lot of the neighboring kids, and I love greeting them all and playing with them in the streets. I said hello to one boy the other day and he immediately grabbed my hand and began dragging me along side him. I asked him where we were going and she smartly replied that we were going to his house. I had to appologize and leave him so that I wasnt late for class.
Im also good friends with the 3 year old cousin that lives in my house with my family. She knows my name but she always calls me ´gringita´ and follows me to the door everytime I leave. She tried to pull out my nose ring once, but I dont hold it against her.
Im still playing a lot of Yahtzee with my siblings. Its fun except when Paula cheats (uhm, all the time) so that she gets a yahtzee for ever single number. I should really learn the spanish word for ´cheater.´
The other night, Paula and Heidi took me out into the streets to witness some celebration that was going on, probably for carnaval. We were standing around, talking to some of their friends when all of a sudden everyone started screaming and racing back up the hill away from the plaza. I honestly had NO idea what was going on. We stopped at the top and after a few minutes, everyone began heading back down. After another fifteen minutes, the exact same thing occured. I could hardly stand upright for all the pushing and scrambling. I asked for an explaination but I couldnt understand a word that the excited crowd said, but from what I could gather, it was all a game. Literally every citizen in Sorata was in the streets playing this game, whatever it was. As the streets began to calm down after the second scare- what ever it was- a car pulled up and Paula and Heidi dragged me into this totally unfamiliar car with unfamiliar people (sketch) and we drove off. Turns out it was there uncle driving, but I had no idea at the time. He took us home.
At home, I could hear the sounds of laughter, screaming, and running coming from the streets until well past midnight. It was seriously a CRAZY night.
My mother, Doña Machlovia, is so nice. I only understand half of what she says before she starts laughing at me, but I still have fun sitting in the kitchen with her as she makes lunch. She promised that someday soon she would teach me how to make humienta, one of my favorite bolivian foods.
Ive also met a lot of the neighboring kids, and I love greeting them all and playing with them in the streets. I said hello to one boy the other day and he immediately grabbed my hand and began dragging me along side him. I asked him where we were going and she smartly replied that we were going to his house. I had to appologize and leave him so that I wasnt late for class.
Im also good friends with the 3 year old cousin that lives in my house with my family. She knows my name but she always calls me ´gringita´ and follows me to the door everytime I leave. She tried to pull out my nose ring once, but I dont hold it against her.
Im still playing a lot of Yahtzee with my siblings. Its fun except when Paula cheats (uhm, all the time) so that she gets a yahtzee for ever single number. I should really learn the spanish word for ´cheater.´
The other night, Paula and Heidi took me out into the streets to witness some celebration that was going on, probably for carnaval. We were standing around, talking to some of their friends when all of a sudden everyone started screaming and racing back up the hill away from the plaza. I honestly had NO idea what was going on. We stopped at the top and after a few minutes, everyone began heading back down. After another fifteen minutes, the exact same thing occured. I could hardly stand upright for all the pushing and scrambling. I asked for an explaination but I couldnt understand a word that the excited crowd said, but from what I could gather, it was all a game. Literally every citizen in Sorata was in the streets playing this game, whatever it was. As the streets began to calm down after the second scare- what ever it was- a car pulled up and Paula and Heidi dragged me into this totally unfamiliar car with unfamiliar people (sketch) and we drove off. Turns out it was there uncle driving, but I had no idea at the time. He took us home.
At home, I could hear the sounds of laughter, screaming, and running coming from the streets until well past midnight. It was seriously a CRAZY night.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sorata
Yesterday morning everyone met with their homestay families. All the families showed up at the Dragons´ headquarters to pick up their student...except for mine. I thought, ´oh no, not again´ (since I already had one ´home´stay without a real family or a home), but it has all worked out since then!
I was taken by another family to wait until someone from my family showed up to take me home. Eventually my 11 year old host-sister, Heidi (pronounced hay-dee), picked me up and took me to my room. We chatted a bit then she took me to her grandmother´s for lunch. I met her adorable cousin, Jefferson, who is so cute and immediately wanted to dance and snuggle.
After lunch, we headed off to her parents pueblo (village), where her parents were participating in a big fiesta. I sat in the trunk of a car with three other women and a baby (there were already four people plus a baby in the middle seat, and two in the passenger seat) which was quite uncomfortable as we drove on the washed out (read:bumpy), twisting mountain road.
The fiesta was crazy. There were so many people and a stage for live music. Some people were dancing but most were sitting around, the men were in one group, and the women were lined up along the outskirts like wall flowers waiting to dance. Everyone was eating and drinking a lot. Women walked around with bottles of beer, handing out/re-filling glasses for anyone in need.
To give you an example of what Bolivian parties are really like: My other 8 year old host-sister, Paula, bought me a beer.
My two sisters and I returned home to eat dinner and watch a few Disney movies.
Our parents never came back; they spent the night at the pueblo. I met the mother at the fiesta, but I havent yet seen the father or the 13 year old brother who apparently stayed in Sorata last night.
This morning I woke up and the parents still arent back. The girls were in one room, asleep. I didnt even know where the kitchen was to make tea, or where to find breakfast.
As I was trying to read, the girls came into my room. We played Yahtzee and they tried on all of the makeup that I brought but have yet to use since being in Bolivia. They are fun but it is exhausting; they dont often leave me alone! At 11:00 Heidi brought me some crackers for ´breakfast.´ Since then, we´ve re-watched the movies we saw last night, and have spent a lot of time snuggling.
Tomorrow we start spanish classes again, and hopefully I can begin to get in a routine.
I was taken by another family to wait until someone from my family showed up to take me home. Eventually my 11 year old host-sister, Heidi (pronounced hay-dee), picked me up and took me to my room. We chatted a bit then she took me to her grandmother´s for lunch. I met her adorable cousin, Jefferson, who is so cute and immediately wanted to dance and snuggle.
After lunch, we headed off to her parents pueblo (village), where her parents were participating in a big fiesta. I sat in the trunk of a car with three other women and a baby (there were already four people plus a baby in the middle seat, and two in the passenger seat) which was quite uncomfortable as we drove on the washed out (read:bumpy), twisting mountain road.
The fiesta was crazy. There were so many people and a stage for live music. Some people were dancing but most were sitting around, the men were in one group, and the women were lined up along the outskirts like wall flowers waiting to dance. Everyone was eating and drinking a lot. Women walked around with bottles of beer, handing out/re-filling glasses for anyone in need.
To give you an example of what Bolivian parties are really like: My other 8 year old host-sister, Paula, bought me a beer.
My two sisters and I returned home to eat dinner and watch a few Disney movies.
Our parents never came back; they spent the night at the pueblo. I met the mother at the fiesta, but I havent yet seen the father or the 13 year old brother who apparently stayed in Sorata last night.
This morning I woke up and the parents still arent back. The girls were in one room, asleep. I didnt even know where the kitchen was to make tea, or where to find breakfast.
As I was trying to read, the girls came into my room. We played Yahtzee and they tried on all of the makeup that I brought but have yet to use since being in Bolivia. They are fun but it is exhausting; they dont often leave me alone! At 11:00 Heidi brought me some crackers for ´breakfast.´ Since then, we´ve re-watched the movies we saw last night, and have spent a lot of time snuggling.
Tomorrow we start spanish classes again, and hopefully I can begin to get in a routine.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
El Alto
Today is our last day in El Alto. 4 weeks and 1 day ago, we were just arriving at the airport in El Alto. The El Alto I remember from back then is so different from the one I know now. Back then, nothing was familiar, but now it is my home!
To be honest, I dont feel like we have been in Bolivia very long, and nothing feels very different. Im not sure if Ive really grown or learned that much. (To clarify: Ive learned a lot about Bolivia, the culture, and the politics here. I just dont think Ive learned anything abstract like learning About Myself, etc).
The past week has flown by. Ive loved living in the awesome building that is Teatro Trono, and despite my initial concerns, my homestay life hasnt been so bad! Its nice having a room to myself on a seperate floor, and Ive still been able to interact with the family a bit. Ive had fun pointing out the handsome soccer players with the grandmother, Dona Elba. And last night, I taught my mother, Dona Taña how to make chocolate cake. Despite cooking at altitude, with no recipe, no chemical leavening, and certainly no vegan ingredients, the cake was quite good and we ate it for breakfast this morning!
So now we are on our way to Sorata, where we will live with families and continue taking spanish classes for the next three weeks. Sorata is supposed to be beautiful, and I cant wait to see it all. Ill keep you posted with my new homestay life and other dealings in Sorata!
To be honest, I dont feel like we have been in Bolivia very long, and nothing feels very different. Im not sure if Ive really grown or learned that much. (To clarify: Ive learned a lot about Bolivia, the culture, and the politics here. I just dont think Ive learned anything abstract like learning About Myself, etc).
The past week has flown by. Ive loved living in the awesome building that is Teatro Trono, and despite my initial concerns, my homestay life hasnt been so bad! Its nice having a room to myself on a seperate floor, and Ive still been able to interact with the family a bit. Ive had fun pointing out the handsome soccer players with the grandmother, Dona Elba. And last night, I taught my mother, Dona Taña how to make chocolate cake. Despite cooking at altitude, with no recipe, no chemical leavening, and certainly no vegan ingredients, the cake was quite good and we ate it for breakfast this morning!
So now we are on our way to Sorata, where we will live with families and continue taking spanish classes for the next three weeks. Sorata is supposed to be beautiful, and I cant wait to see it all. Ill keep you posted with my new homestay life and other dealings in Sorata!
Mujeres Creando
It seems like a lot of what we have been doing in Bolivia so far is meeting with radical activists and left-leaning groups. Yesterday we visited a group that tops the list: Mujeres Creando (trans: Women Creating).
Mujeres Creando is a radical, anarchist, feminist group (their words, not mine). Usually I am a bit put off by radical feminists, but the fact that this subset of women actually exist in strongly patriarchal Bolivia is pretty cool, if you ask me. My first empression of the group was walking into their building and seeing a traditional Cholita, dressed in a bright peasant skirt and wearing the standard felt bowler hat, sitting at a table next to a Bolivian woman with mohawk hair and sucking on a cigarette. The walls behind these women were painted with the cursive graffitti that Mujeres Creando spreads throughout the city. Some of my favorites are:
"Long live the fat girls and the whores"
"Every penis is a small penis" and
"You want me to be a virgin, you want me to be saint, you piss me off"
My second impression of the group came from a video of demonstration that they performed. It involved four naked men with colorfully painted penises being measured by the president of an organization for prostitutes in Chile.
Obviously, the whole afternoon with Mujeres Creando was interesting and super different from anything else Ive seen in Bolivia. Im still undecided on my overall opinion of the group, but Ill let you know when I figure it out!
Mujeres Creando is a radical, anarchist, feminist group (their words, not mine). Usually I am a bit put off by radical feminists, but the fact that this subset of women actually exist in strongly patriarchal Bolivia is pretty cool, if you ask me. My first empression of the group was walking into their building and seeing a traditional Cholita, dressed in a bright peasant skirt and wearing the standard felt bowler hat, sitting at a table next to a Bolivian woman with mohawk hair and sucking on a cigarette. The walls behind these women were painted with the cursive graffitti that Mujeres Creando spreads throughout the city. Some of my favorites are:
"Long live the fat girls and the whores"
"Every penis is a small penis" and
"You want me to be a virgin, you want me to be saint, you piss me off"
My second impression of the group came from a video of demonstration that they performed. It involved four naked men with colorfully painted penises being measured by the president of an organization for prostitutes in Chile.
Obviously, the whole afternoon with Mujeres Creando was interesting and super different from anything else Ive seen in Bolivia. Im still undecided on my overall opinion of the group, but Ill let you know when I figure it out!
Friday, March 11, 2011
A Day of Ch´alla
On Tuesday, we performed the Ch´alla at Teatro Trono. Ch´alla is an Andean ritual that blesses the home/workplace and meanwhile gives offerings to Pachamama. This is the same Ch´alla we performed in the city last week, although this time it was much more celebratory and more like a party. There was lots of throwing of streamers and candy and lots of setting off firecrackers.
We traveled around El Alto to all of the other Compa (Teatro Trono) houses. The other houses are all so cool! One of them used old TVs to build the wall instead of bricks!
We traveled in Teatro Trono´s own bus. The bed in the back of the bus and the fringe-trimmed curtains made it impossible to shake the feeling that we were on a Love Bus back in the 70s. The bolivian guy in the front, wearing bellbottom jeans, john lennon glases and a ponytail down to his waist only contributed to the atmosphere.
After we finished Trono´s Ch´alla, I could still here other houses celebrating. Loud firecrackers went off every five minutes. The crackers really scared poor Salí, who was already having a bad day because he got his balls cut off and he had to wear a diaper.
Anyways, the celebrations were going on all day and well into the night. In the streets there was dancing, lots of drinking, and HUGE waterfights with balloons and buckets and waterguns.
I went on a run that evening and really got to experience the craziness. Someone hopped out of a car and dumped a 10 gallon bucket of water on me, right on the street corner! I also got caught in a few water balloon fights and made friends with a few cute kids who were playing. Everyone kept calling for me to stop and dance and drink with them.
I didnt get a great workout with all of the stopping and playing, but I returned home completely drenched and happy.
We traveled around El Alto to all of the other Compa (Teatro Trono) houses. The other houses are all so cool! One of them used old TVs to build the wall instead of bricks!
We traveled in Teatro Trono´s own bus. The bed in the back of the bus and the fringe-trimmed curtains made it impossible to shake the feeling that we were on a Love Bus back in the 70s. The bolivian guy in the front, wearing bellbottom jeans, john lennon glases and a ponytail down to his waist only contributed to the atmosphere.
After we finished Trono´s Ch´alla, I could still here other houses celebrating. Loud firecrackers went off every five minutes. The crackers really scared poor Salí, who was already having a bad day because he got his balls cut off and he had to wear a diaper.
Anyways, the celebrations were going on all day and well into the night. In the streets there was dancing, lots of drinking, and HUGE waterfights with balloons and buckets and waterguns.
I went on a run that evening and really got to experience the craziness. Someone hopped out of a car and dumped a 10 gallon bucket of water on me, right on the street corner! I also got caught in a few water balloon fights and made friends with a few cute kids who were playing. Everyone kept calling for me to stop and dance and drink with them.
I didnt get a great workout with all of the stopping and playing, but I returned home completely drenched and happy.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Two Blessings, and a Day of Sin
This past weekend was like an uh-oh-oreo: a day of sinful Carnaval sandwiched by a pure blessing on either side.
On Friday, I went down to La Paz with a few others to visist a Callawaya shaman/priest. We sat crammed together in his bathroom-office (literally, a tile bathroom with an old showerhead and a soap holder converted into an office...the soap holder now holds his pencils, if you were wondering) as he explained the ´secrets´ of his people´s healing. I couldnt stop staring at everything around me. Medicinal herbs, magical amulets, and other shamanistic ingredients were stored in old plastic grocery bags and cleaned-out cosmetic tubes; certainly NOT the holy way I expected to a witch´s kitchen organized! Perhaps the most shocking thing to me was the gold Cristo statue that hung prominately on the back wall. Ive come to learn that there is a major syncritism between Andean cosmovision and Catholicism here, but I still didnt expect Jesus Christ to be so important in the worshiping of someone who believes in ´pachamama´.
The priest explained the properties and symbolism of the iteams he uses for worship and celebration. He also spoke about how to heal certain ailments and problems. So, if anyone ever has chronic headaches and needs the devil taken out of them, I can tell you how. All you need is a rooster and a few hours between midnight and 5am for the bird to be attached to you...
At the end of our time together, the priest performed a special ritual to ask for our good health and fortune. Incense, alcohol, llama fat, silver, and many other ingredients were offered to pachamama and burned in her honor. We were blessed with this smoke, given a crushed-up mix of something to keep for good luck, and drenched in alcohol. It was quite a powerful ceremony, and although it was performed in Ayumara, not Spanish, I could understand the emotion behind it. The priest demanded that we not shower, or even wash our hands, for a full day inorder to preserve the blessing. That didnt bother me; when you havent bathed in a week, whats another few days, you know?
I woke up the next day (unshowered) at 4:30am and boarded a bus to Orurro. Thats right, we went to Orurro for CARNAVAL! Orurro is the Carnaval captial of Bolivia, one of the biggest locations for Carnaval just behind Italy and Brazil. Maybe my expectations were too high, but the experience in Orurro wasnt nearly as crazy as I expected. Still, there was TONS of beer, foam being sprayed everywhere and on everyone, and WWIII occuring with water balloons and waterguns. I wore a rainjacket, rainpants, and a poncho, and I still was soaked with water and foam by the end of the day.
The coolest part of Carnaval was definitely the dancing. It amazes me that there are dancers dancing in the parade 24 hours a day, everyday! (Different dancers, of course, but the dancing never ceases.) The costumes were fantastic, and pretty shocking in the amount of skin they reveal. The masks, too, were pretty incredible. The dances all tell the history of Bolivia, from ancient folklore of the indigenous people, to stories of spanish conquerers, to black slaves in the silver mines. My favorite dance was definitely the Caporallis. I swear, you have never seen men make shoulder-pads and bell-clad boots look so sexy. Trust me. Just look up a video.
So despite our late night in Orurro, I woke up early the next morning to travel an hour and a half across El Alto to attend a Catholic mass. The service was pretty interesting (at least the bit I was able to understand and translate). Like everything in Bolivia, the syncritism of Catholocisim and Andean cosmovision was pretty evident. In the homily, the priest spoke of Pachamama, and announced a Ch´alla (Andean tradition of honoring the earth´s spirits) occuring the following day. In fact, the priest is not only an ordained catholic minister, but he is also an Ayamara priest and devoted follower of the cosmovision. Like the Callawaya priest, he ended the service by giving us a blessing: holy water and flowers sprinkled on our heads.
So did these two very different (yet suprisingly similar) religious blessings cancel out the day of carnal indulgence that was Carnaval? I cant be sure, but I think that they did. At least the day of sin didnt interfere with my good luck while vintage shoe shopping. Later on Sunday afternoon, I visited South America´s biggest black market and found the most amazing pair of used boots painted with Venus de Milo, just in my size.
On Friday, I went down to La Paz with a few others to visist a Callawaya shaman/priest. We sat crammed together in his bathroom-office (literally, a tile bathroom with an old showerhead and a soap holder converted into an office...the soap holder now holds his pencils, if you were wondering) as he explained the ´secrets´ of his people´s healing. I couldnt stop staring at everything around me. Medicinal herbs, magical amulets, and other shamanistic ingredients were stored in old plastic grocery bags and cleaned-out cosmetic tubes; certainly NOT the holy way I expected to a witch´s kitchen organized! Perhaps the most shocking thing to me was the gold Cristo statue that hung prominately on the back wall. Ive come to learn that there is a major syncritism between Andean cosmovision and Catholicism here, but I still didnt expect Jesus Christ to be so important in the worshiping of someone who believes in ´pachamama´.
The priest explained the properties and symbolism of the iteams he uses for worship and celebration. He also spoke about how to heal certain ailments and problems. So, if anyone ever has chronic headaches and needs the devil taken out of them, I can tell you how. All you need is a rooster and a few hours between midnight and 5am for the bird to be attached to you...
At the end of our time together, the priest performed a special ritual to ask for our good health and fortune. Incense, alcohol, llama fat, silver, and many other ingredients were offered to pachamama and burned in her honor. We were blessed with this smoke, given a crushed-up mix of something to keep for good luck, and drenched in alcohol. It was quite a powerful ceremony, and although it was performed in Ayumara, not Spanish, I could understand the emotion behind it. The priest demanded that we not shower, or even wash our hands, for a full day inorder to preserve the blessing. That didnt bother me; when you havent bathed in a week, whats another few days, you know?
I woke up the next day (unshowered) at 4:30am and boarded a bus to Orurro. Thats right, we went to Orurro for CARNAVAL! Orurro is the Carnaval captial of Bolivia, one of the biggest locations for Carnaval just behind Italy and Brazil. Maybe my expectations were too high, but the experience in Orurro wasnt nearly as crazy as I expected. Still, there was TONS of beer, foam being sprayed everywhere and on everyone, and WWIII occuring with water balloons and waterguns. I wore a rainjacket, rainpants, and a poncho, and I still was soaked with water and foam by the end of the day.
The coolest part of Carnaval was definitely the dancing. It amazes me that there are dancers dancing in the parade 24 hours a day, everyday! (Different dancers, of course, but the dancing never ceases.) The costumes were fantastic, and pretty shocking in the amount of skin they reveal. The masks, too, were pretty incredible. The dances all tell the history of Bolivia, from ancient folklore of the indigenous people, to stories of spanish conquerers, to black slaves in the silver mines. My favorite dance was definitely the Caporallis. I swear, you have never seen men make shoulder-pads and bell-clad boots look so sexy. Trust me. Just look up a video.
So despite our late night in Orurro, I woke up early the next morning to travel an hour and a half across El Alto to attend a Catholic mass. The service was pretty interesting (at least the bit I was able to understand and translate). Like everything in Bolivia, the syncritism of Catholocisim and Andean cosmovision was pretty evident. In the homily, the priest spoke of Pachamama, and announced a Ch´alla (Andean tradition of honoring the earth´s spirits) occuring the following day. In fact, the priest is not only an ordained catholic minister, but he is also an Ayamara priest and devoted follower of the cosmovision. Like the Callawaya priest, he ended the service by giving us a blessing: holy water and flowers sprinkled on our heads.
So did these two very different (yet suprisingly similar) religious blessings cancel out the day of carnal indulgence that was Carnaval? I cant be sure, but I think that they did. At least the day of sin didnt interfere with my good luck while vintage shoe shopping. Later on Sunday afternoon, I visited South America´s biggest black market and found the most amazing pair of used boots painted with Venus de Milo, just in my size.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
¨Home¨stay
I am now in El Alto (outskirts of La Paz). As a group we have started spanish classes and our first urban homestay.
As it turns out, my homestay is not actually a home. Haley Rose and I are living in a spare room in Teatro Trono, sharing a bathroom and common area with two Argentinian film volunteers.
Our ¨mother¨ is Doña Taña, the daughter of Doña Alba who lives in an apartment two floors below us. (Two other students are living in the apartment with Doña Alba.) Doña Alba cooks for us and we eat downstairs in her apartment.
We actually dont know where Doña Taña sleeps, or if she has any children or a husband. We´ve only spoken to her a few times, because lately she has been very busy with work at the Teatro.
I am a little sad that I dont have a real ¨family¨ or a real ¨home¨ for my homestay.
BUT I cant complain too much because Teatro Trono is the coolest place ever. Teatro Trono is an artist collective dedicated to making art accessable for youth and using art for political activism. There are film, radio, computer, and dance studios all over the building. The six-story building has a gutted, open elevator shaft that connects all the floors and makes yelling from top to bottom a breeze. It is decorated with all sorts of interesting, eclectic items, from bust statues, to stuffed dinosaurs, to old hats, to vintage posters, to live chickens (the awkward adolecent kind) that live on the terrace. From the roof you can climb a latter onto a suspension bridge which circles the building. From it, you can get a beautiful, unobstructed view of El Alto and the snowy mountains behind La Paz.
As it turns out, my homestay is not actually a home. Haley Rose and I are living in a spare room in Teatro Trono, sharing a bathroom and common area with two Argentinian film volunteers.
Our ¨mother¨ is Doña Taña, the daughter of Doña Alba who lives in an apartment two floors below us. (Two other students are living in the apartment with Doña Alba.) Doña Alba cooks for us and we eat downstairs in her apartment.
We actually dont know where Doña Taña sleeps, or if she has any children or a husband. We´ve only spoken to her a few times, because lately she has been very busy with work at the Teatro.
I am a little sad that I dont have a real ¨family¨ or a real ¨home¨ for my homestay.
BUT I cant complain too much because Teatro Trono is the coolest place ever. Teatro Trono is an artist collective dedicated to making art accessable for youth and using art for political activism. There are film, radio, computer, and dance studios all over the building. The six-story building has a gutted, open elevator shaft that connects all the floors and makes yelling from top to bottom a breeze. It is decorated with all sorts of interesting, eclectic items, from bust statues, to stuffed dinosaurs, to old hats, to vintage posters, to live chickens (the awkward adolecent kind) that live on the terrace. From the roof you can climb a latter onto a suspension bridge which circles the building. From it, you can get a beautiful, unobstructed view of El Alto and the snowy mountains behind La Paz.
Embassy: Country Away from Country
Yesterday we went to visit the US Embassy in La Paz. (True, we had had no embassador here since 2008 when Goldberg was kicked out, but we do still have an embassy.)
All the other embassies on the street look cozy and inviting. They are open buildings with cultural flare to match the host country.
The US embassy rises above them all: a cold, bare, many-storied, rectangular building hidden behind a 20 foot cement wall. ¨The wall keeps getting higher,¨I was told, ¨because people keep throwing bombs over the top.¨ I wonder if the walls are high because people throw bombs, or if people throw bombs because the walls are so high.
Inside the wall, the grounds are well landscaped. We all agreed it looks like a cross between a prison and a fancy country club; I kept waiting to turn the corner and see a pool with Ralph Lauren umbrellas. The US state seal is even trimmed into the hedges. No lie.
I entered the building expecting to speak with some old politicion who has a big smile, and the ability to talk his way around our pointed questions.
Instead, we spoke with a perky girl who looked like she could easily be a current UNC student. Im not going to lie, I was sceptical at first.
When our long question-answer session was done, I was pleasantly suprised and refreshed. This embassy employee has a history of activism and her views are quite liberal. She recognizes that she is working in ¨the system¨ and she does what she can to make a postive difference. She was open and candid about the current political situation and her opinions. I never thought Id say this about a politician, but I am actually proud that she is representing US citizens.
All the other embassies on the street look cozy and inviting. They are open buildings with cultural flare to match the host country.
The US embassy rises above them all: a cold, bare, many-storied, rectangular building hidden behind a 20 foot cement wall. ¨The wall keeps getting higher,¨I was told, ¨because people keep throwing bombs over the top.¨ I wonder if the walls are high because people throw bombs, or if people throw bombs because the walls are so high.
Inside the wall, the grounds are well landscaped. We all agreed it looks like a cross between a prison and a fancy country club; I kept waiting to turn the corner and see a pool with Ralph Lauren umbrellas. The US state seal is even trimmed into the hedges. No lie.
I entered the building expecting to speak with some old politicion who has a big smile, and the ability to talk his way around our pointed questions.
Instead, we spoke with a perky girl who looked like she could easily be a current UNC student. Im not going to lie, I was sceptical at first.
When our long question-answer session was done, I was pleasantly suprised and refreshed. This embassy employee has a history of activism and her views are quite liberal. She recognizes that she is working in ¨the system¨ and she does what she can to make a postive difference. She was open and candid about the current political situation and her opinions. I never thought Id say this about a politician, but I am actually proud that she is representing US citizens.
Llama Drama
Earlier this week we took an overnight trip to a very small pueblo outside of La Paz. After a 3 hour early morning drive, our rickety bus pulled up to the village of Tuní. This village is made up of about 10 families, and their community building doubles as an eco-lodge for tourists willing to venture out of La Paz. We were greeted with coca, packed our lunches, then our group of 16 (plus the dog) headed out with day packs for an afternoon hike around the beautiful area.
I have never seen so many llamas. Only fifteen minutes into our hike, I peered over a hilltop to see llamas spotting the valley like ants on fallen sandwich. After admiring the site for a few seconds, I lifted my gaze only to see a flock of a dozen llamas standing on the trail right in front of us! Our first thought was that dog might scare the llamas.
As it turns out, we had nothing to be afraid of.
As Salí ran, barking towards the llamas, the pack animals didnt even flinch. The minute Salí got too close, they actually started chasing him! Im not sure if I can think of anything funnier looking than a dog running over the crest of a rocky hill with a flock of llamas pursuing close behind. Even the baby llamas stopped suckling just to chase the dog for a bit. For the rest of the hike, we were entertained by similar events: Salí trying to herd a group of llamas, but getting herded himself instead.
Towards the end of the hike, it began to rain. Actually, it began to pour. Despite my raincoat and umbrella, I was drenched to the bone. Luckily, we had a warm lodge to sleep in and dry clothes waiting when we got there. When we reached back to the pueblo, cold and dripping, we were welcomed with hot coca tea and pipoca (fresh popcorn). It was wonderful.
After dinner and a few games of cards, I left the main building to retire to my bed. On the way, I had to push through a huge gathering of- you guessed it- llamas.
In the morning, on the bus ride back, we had the clearest weather I´ve seen in a while. With sun and clear skies, I was able to really see the beauty of the area.
Outside my bus window, I could see long spances of shrub covered fields rise up into hills and mountains. In the fields, its hard to tell a rock from a llama, because both dot the landscape so frequently. The mud and brick houses are camoflauged into the land, demonstrating a oneness with nature that cannot be denied. Only the peasant women, in their bright skirts and colorful woven mantas, stand out against the landscape and give evidence of inhabitance in these beautiful and harsh Andes.
I have never seen so many llamas. Only fifteen minutes into our hike, I peered over a hilltop to see llamas spotting the valley like ants on fallen sandwich. After admiring the site for a few seconds, I lifted my gaze only to see a flock of a dozen llamas standing on the trail right in front of us! Our first thought was that dog might scare the llamas.
As it turns out, we had nothing to be afraid of.
As Salí ran, barking towards the llamas, the pack animals didnt even flinch. The minute Salí got too close, they actually started chasing him! Im not sure if I can think of anything funnier looking than a dog running over the crest of a rocky hill with a flock of llamas pursuing close behind. Even the baby llamas stopped suckling just to chase the dog for a bit. For the rest of the hike, we were entertained by similar events: Salí trying to herd a group of llamas, but getting herded himself instead.
Towards the end of the hike, it began to rain. Actually, it began to pour. Despite my raincoat and umbrella, I was drenched to the bone. Luckily, we had a warm lodge to sleep in and dry clothes waiting when we got there. When we reached back to the pueblo, cold and dripping, we were welcomed with hot coca tea and pipoca (fresh popcorn). It was wonderful.
After dinner and a few games of cards, I left the main building to retire to my bed. On the way, I had to push through a huge gathering of- you guessed it- llamas.
In the morning, on the bus ride back, we had the clearest weather I´ve seen in a while. With sun and clear skies, I was able to really see the beauty of the area.
Outside my bus window, I could see long spances of shrub covered fields rise up into hills and mountains. In the fields, its hard to tell a rock from a llama, because both dot the landscape so frequently. The mud and brick houses are camoflauged into the land, demonstrating a oneness with nature that cannot be denied. Only the peasant women, in their bright skirts and colorful woven mantas, stand out against the landscape and give evidence of inhabitance in these beautiful and harsh Andes.
Loyal Dogs
As if swimming across a dangerous river wasnt enough, Salí just keeps proving his loyalty...
Most restaurants and public transportation are (suprisingly) open to dogs, so bringing Salí around hasnt been to difficult. But the other night we were going to a nicer restaurant for dinner and we decided it would be more appropriate to leave our dog, Salí, behind while we ate. We tied him up inside the gated courtyard of Dragon´s apartment, and walked the 20 minutes to the restaurant.
Just as appetizers were about to come out, we heard a commotion down stairs. Jess peered out from the railing and informed us all that Salí was running around the dining area below us. This dog not only escaped from a leash and a gate, but he followed our scent all the way to the restaurant more than an hour after we left him. Talk about a loyal dog.
Salí stole the show that night, but our dinner guest, Narda, was a close second. Narda is an activist from the northern part of the country. Mostly she works with castaña (brazil nut) harvesters, but if a good cause exists, she most likely supports it. EVERY politicion and activist in the country knows her. She is a huge personality, and she told stories with so much energy that I was completely distracted from the fact that she was wearing a hot pink sweatsuit from head-to-toe. She and Evo Morales worked together as union leaders (different unions) for many years. Perhaps my favorite story she told was about how she threw a glass of juice on President Morales during an event one time because he disappointed her! In a country where men usually have the last (often only) say in things, it was wonderful to meet such a strong, powerful woman.
Most restaurants and public transportation are (suprisingly) open to dogs, so bringing Salí around hasnt been to difficult. But the other night we were going to a nicer restaurant for dinner and we decided it would be more appropriate to leave our dog, Salí, behind while we ate. We tied him up inside the gated courtyard of Dragon´s apartment, and walked the 20 minutes to the restaurant.
Just as appetizers were about to come out, we heard a commotion down stairs. Jess peered out from the railing and informed us all that Salí was running around the dining area below us. This dog not only escaped from a leash and a gate, but he followed our scent all the way to the restaurant more than an hour after we left him. Talk about a loyal dog.
Salí stole the show that night, but our dinner guest, Narda, was a close second. Narda is an activist from the northern part of the country. Mostly she works with castaña (brazil nut) harvesters, but if a good cause exists, she most likely supports it. EVERY politicion and activist in the country knows her. She is a huge personality, and she told stories with so much energy that I was completely distracted from the fact that she was wearing a hot pink sweatsuit from head-to-toe. She and Evo Morales worked together as union leaders (different unions) for many years. Perhaps my favorite story she told was about how she threw a glass of juice on President Morales during an event one time because he disappointed her! In a country where men usually have the last (often only) say in things, it was wonderful to meet such a strong, powerful woman.
Monday, February 28, 2011
A Sense of Place
I´ve realized that the majority of my posts so far have been about WHAT Ive been doing, not WHERE I am.
Since the end of the trek, we have been in Potosi. 400 years ago, Potosi was bigger than London and was wealthier than any other city in the world, all thanks to the Spanish conquerers who began mining for silver in Cerro Rico. Nowdays, Potosi is the poorest city in Bolivia.
While many of the residents of Potosi struggle due to mining occupations, the city itself isn´t in such bad shape. I hope that doesn´t sound insensitive, but I cannot help but compare it to the conditions I saw last semester in Nepal.
There is little to no trash on the streets.
There are public statues.
There are stop lights, wide roads, and people generally stay in their proper driving lane.
There are small plazas planted with trees and roses.
VW cars are EVERYWHERE.
Some of the dogs wear sweaters on the street (seriously), and even those that dont look healthier and more diverse than Nepali street dogs. You can even make out their dominating breed, from blue-eyed Huskies, to long haired Spaniels, to sheep dogs, to small, curly haired poodles.
Our ¨home¨ in Potosi was pretty sweet, too. We stayed at the Koala Den, which is the nicest hostel Ive ever been in. There was wireless, free computer access, a tv room with hundreds of dvds, an open kitchen, a selection of games, private bathrooms, hot showers, and a large dining table where breakfast (bread, fruit, eggs, coffee, tea, chocolate) is served each morning. The Koala is full of roaming hipsters: girls in tights with long hair in messy braids, guys in tight pants with small hats and mustaches, and couples speaking swedish and wearing matching 0%prescription readers. This was an added plus, as it made for great people-watching.
Thanks to (more) transportation strikes, and the dangerous flooding in much of the country, we got to stay in our luxury hostel for a few extra nights. Unfortunately this means we have missed our opportunity to visit the salar (salt desert) and the lithium plant in Uyuni. We rode the bus all last night and now we have finally arrived in La Paz. On Wednesday we will be moving up to El Alto, on the outskirts of La Paz to start our spanish classes and homestays!
Since the end of the trek, we have been in Potosi. 400 years ago, Potosi was bigger than London and was wealthier than any other city in the world, all thanks to the Spanish conquerers who began mining for silver in Cerro Rico. Nowdays, Potosi is the poorest city in Bolivia.
While many of the residents of Potosi struggle due to mining occupations, the city itself isn´t in such bad shape. I hope that doesn´t sound insensitive, but I cannot help but compare it to the conditions I saw last semester in Nepal.
There is little to no trash on the streets.
There are public statues.
There are stop lights, wide roads, and people generally stay in their proper driving lane.
There are small plazas planted with trees and roses.
VW cars are EVERYWHERE.
Some of the dogs wear sweaters on the street (seriously), and even those that dont look healthier and more diverse than Nepali street dogs. You can even make out their dominating breed, from blue-eyed Huskies, to long haired Spaniels, to sheep dogs, to small, curly haired poodles.
Our ¨home¨ in Potosi was pretty sweet, too. We stayed at the Koala Den, which is the nicest hostel Ive ever been in. There was wireless, free computer access, a tv room with hundreds of dvds, an open kitchen, a selection of games, private bathrooms, hot showers, and a large dining table where breakfast (bread, fruit, eggs, coffee, tea, chocolate) is served each morning. The Koala is full of roaming hipsters: girls in tights with long hair in messy braids, guys in tight pants with small hats and mustaches, and couples speaking swedish and wearing matching 0%prescription readers. This was an added plus, as it made for great people-watching.
Thanks to (more) transportation strikes, and the dangerous flooding in much of the country, we got to stay in our luxury hostel for a few extra nights. Unfortunately this means we have missed our opportunity to visit the salar (salt desert) and the lithium plant in Uyuni. We rode the bus all last night and now we have finally arrived in La Paz. On Wednesday we will be moving up to El Alto, on the outskirts of La Paz to start our spanish classes and homestays!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Cerro Pobre
Our group of 16 paraded down the street, dressed up in ridiculous jumpsuits and yellow hard hats. There was no doubt that we were tourist, and today we were touring the silver mines of Cerro Rico.
Cerro Rico was discovered by the Spanish and has been mined for over 400 years. Although the mountain originally was mined externally, soon the external desposits of minerals disapeared and now the mine carves down 17 levels into the earth. It take 3 1/2 hours simply to walk from the entrance to the bottom of the mine. We only walked down the third level, and I cant imagine going down any further.
Inside the mine was pretty terrifying. When a dynamite went off, every nerve in my body froze as the impact shuddered into my feet and out my ears. The passages are tight and dark, and it is so hard to breathe because of all the dust and the heat. It was necessary to crawl on your hands and knees for five to ten minutes at a time. To me, it was like squeezing up and down a covered playground slide, except the walls were made of cool, jagged rocks. Inside, we learned a bit about the history and present of the mine (both similar stories of poverty and dangers). We also spoke to a few miners, all drinking Ciebo (96% alcohol; sold cheaply in the mining stores right along side the dynamite) and chewing coca for energy.
Being down in the hole was really tough. It was easy to get over the physical strain of breathing through the dust and sqeezing down claustrophobic passages, the emotional impact was harder to shake. It is horrible in the mines and the lifestyle is so bad. Mining culture is riddle with domestic violence, alcoholism, and abandonment. They drink and joke about things to avoid reality; who can blame them? Between 30 and 40 people die in the Potosi mine each year, and at least someone gets injured every day.
To be honest, I hated the tour. I came out feeling very sad. I was sad partially because of the situation in mine, but mostly because of our actions. I felt like an immoral spectator at a zoo: holding onto my privilage, playing ´dress up,´ and seeing the mining life just for shock value. I didn´t feel welcome into the mine, and I felt like I was taking advantage of the miners struggles. Sure, my hands and clothes got dirty, but we were still viewing the mines and the miners through a glass wall.
I understand that experience and emotional response are powerful and can spread awareness- indeed, it sparked some great conversations within our group- but I´d rather learn about mining hardships in a more sensitive way.
Cerro Rico was discovered by the Spanish and has been mined for over 400 years. Although the mountain originally was mined externally, soon the external desposits of minerals disapeared and now the mine carves down 17 levels into the earth. It take 3 1/2 hours simply to walk from the entrance to the bottom of the mine. We only walked down the third level, and I cant imagine going down any further.
Inside the mine was pretty terrifying. When a dynamite went off, every nerve in my body froze as the impact shuddered into my feet and out my ears. The passages are tight and dark, and it is so hard to breathe because of all the dust and the heat. It was necessary to crawl on your hands and knees for five to ten minutes at a time. To me, it was like squeezing up and down a covered playground slide, except the walls were made of cool, jagged rocks. Inside, we learned a bit about the history and present of the mine (both similar stories of poverty and dangers). We also spoke to a few miners, all drinking Ciebo (96% alcohol; sold cheaply in the mining stores right along side the dynamite) and chewing coca for energy.
Being down in the hole was really tough. It was easy to get over the physical strain of breathing through the dust and sqeezing down claustrophobic passages, the emotional impact was harder to shake. It is horrible in the mines and the lifestyle is so bad. Mining culture is riddle with domestic violence, alcoholism, and abandonment. They drink and joke about things to avoid reality; who can blame them? Between 30 and 40 people die in the Potosi mine each year, and at least someone gets injured every day.
To be honest, I hated the tour. I came out feeling very sad. I was sad partially because of the situation in mine, but mostly because of our actions. I felt like an immoral spectator at a zoo: holding onto my privilage, playing ´dress up,´ and seeing the mining life just for shock value. I didn´t feel welcome into the mine, and I felt like I was taking advantage of the miners struggles. Sure, my hands and clothes got dirty, but we were still viewing the mines and the miners through a glass wall.
I understand that experience and emotional response are powerful and can spread awareness- indeed, it sparked some great conversations within our group- but I´d rather learn about mining hardships in a more sensitive way.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
¡Luz, Camera, Actión!
My morning spent with Jose selling newspapers was pretty crazy, but my day only got even more ridiculous. After lunch, I was supposed to follow another child laborer into the cemetary for work. Instead, a fellow union member (Cesar) requested that a few of us help film his brother´s music video! Absolutely nothing about the afternoon was normal, but it was all incredible...
It began to hail as Monika, Evi, and I (¨the video girls¨) walked to meet up with the band in the ¨music district¨of Potosi. We were led into a run down house/studio, and escorted down a few crumbling brick hallways and into a basement bedroom full of bolivian guys. Thank god there were three of us-afterall, there is strength (and comfort) in numbers; by that time we were begining to wonder what we had gotten ourselves into! The bedroom was plastered in posters of every possible genre: Jesus Christ was featured right next to a scantily-clad Brittany Spears, just opposite of Marilyn Manson. Avril Lavine, Shakira, Iron Maiden, and a few mariachi bands were also prominately featured, hovering just above a Tweety Bird beach towel and few stuffed valentine bears. Honestly, it was the weirdest-and most ridiculous- environment Ive ever been in.
As we waited for the filming to begin, Cesar entertained us by playing us some bolivian techno music on his electric drums. Monika whipped out her harmonica (which, obviously, she had conveniently in her raincoat pocket...) and added her own rythm to the music. For the next hour, we continued our culturally-confused jam session, and it was pretty awesome, and ridiculous.
Finally the filming began. Monika was chosen as the main girl in the video ¨porque es mas baja,¨(because she is the shortest). Once we saw the lead singer (and star of the video), we understood: Monika is barely 5´1¨ and she towered over him by a few inches, at least! But the height gap was nothing compared to the age gap. The man is pushing 45 years old. It was ridiculous. I could barely keep a straight face during the filming as he and Monika had to hug and hold hands.
After filming a few scenes in the house, one guy told us to get in his car so we could drive to the center of the town. Super sketchy...Especially because his car is one of those unmarked taxis that tourists are always being warned about! But, trusting Cesar, we got in an everything was fine. Actually, driving around to film scenes in different parts of town was an awesomely unique way to experience Potosi. Crammed together in the backseat, all we could talk about was how crazy our situation was: being driven around by a strange bolivian band to act in their music video! Do I even need to say it? Ridiculous.
In the end, Evi and I got to make our appearance in the video: Evi as the ´new love interest´(sitting down, of course, due to the height difference), and I as Monika´s friend. I hope the compile the video soon, because I cant wait to see it. Maybe I will see my face in the bolivian music videos they play on the long bus rides; if it is completed in time, there is a good possibility I will!
The whole experience was so surreal. It honestly felt like we were in a dream. It was so strange to follow a band around the city as a video entourage. It was simply unique and totally awesome. And ridiculous.
As if selling newpapers in the morning and staring in a music video in the afternoon wasn´t enough: Our instructors ordered pizza to our hostel for dinner...and they ordered half a veggie pizza with no cheese, just for me! Talk about a great day.
It began to hail as Monika, Evi, and I (¨the video girls¨) walked to meet up with the band in the ¨music district¨of Potosi. We were led into a run down house/studio, and escorted down a few crumbling brick hallways and into a basement bedroom full of bolivian guys. Thank god there were three of us-afterall, there is strength (and comfort) in numbers; by that time we were begining to wonder what we had gotten ourselves into! The bedroom was plastered in posters of every possible genre: Jesus Christ was featured right next to a scantily-clad Brittany Spears, just opposite of Marilyn Manson. Avril Lavine, Shakira, Iron Maiden, and a few mariachi bands were also prominately featured, hovering just above a Tweety Bird beach towel and few stuffed valentine bears. Honestly, it was the weirdest-and most ridiculous- environment Ive ever been in.
As we waited for the filming to begin, Cesar entertained us by playing us some bolivian techno music on his electric drums. Monika whipped out her harmonica (which, obviously, she had conveniently in her raincoat pocket...) and added her own rythm to the music. For the next hour, we continued our culturally-confused jam session, and it was pretty awesome, and ridiculous.
Finally the filming began. Monika was chosen as the main girl in the video ¨porque es mas baja,¨(because she is the shortest). Once we saw the lead singer (and star of the video), we understood: Monika is barely 5´1¨ and she towered over him by a few inches, at least! But the height gap was nothing compared to the age gap. The man is pushing 45 years old. It was ridiculous. I could barely keep a straight face during the filming as he and Monika had to hug and hold hands.
After filming a few scenes in the house, one guy told us to get in his car so we could drive to the center of the town. Super sketchy...Especially because his car is one of those unmarked taxis that tourists are always being warned about! But, trusting Cesar, we got in an everything was fine. Actually, driving around to film scenes in different parts of town was an awesomely unique way to experience Potosi. Crammed together in the backseat, all we could talk about was how crazy our situation was: being driven around by a strange bolivian band to act in their music video! Do I even need to say it? Ridiculous.
In the end, Evi and I got to make our appearance in the video: Evi as the ´new love interest´(sitting down, of course, due to the height difference), and I as Monika´s friend. I hope the compile the video soon, because I cant wait to see it. Maybe I will see my face in the bolivian music videos they play on the long bus rides; if it is completed in time, there is a good possibility I will!
The whole experience was so surreal. It honestly felt like we were in a dream. It was so strange to follow a band around the city as a video entourage. It was simply unique and totally awesome. And ridiculous.
As if selling newpapers in the morning and staring in a music video in the afternoon wasn´t enough: Our instructors ordered pizza to our hostel for dinner...and they ordered half a veggie pizza with no cheese, just for me! Talk about a great day.
Extra! Extra!
If you know me well, odds are that I have made you watch Newsies (the movie musical). It happens to be one of my favorites. Yesterday morning I got to live the life of a newsie! I actually job-shadowed a child laborer who works as a newspaper seller.
I woke up at 6:30 to meet Jose on the street and pick up his stack of the day´s paper. While we waited, he and his friends were shy; they kept hiding and avoiding eye contact. When the newspaper truck finally arrived, Jose picked up the papers, yelled something at me, and started running.
Literally running.
I hardly had time to realize what was going before he was half way down the street. When he told me we were going to run to sell the papers, I thought he was kidding! But he wasnt. To cover more ground, quickly, a lot of the top sellers run. I spent the rest of the morning chasing after a nimble 14 year old boy at 14,000 feet of altitude. As if walking up the stairs didnt already put me out of breath in the mountain town. Needless to say, I was exhausted when we sold out, which was, thanks to all of our running, an hour before everyone else.´
The experience was so unique and wonderful. Jose was quiet at first, but by the end I got him talking. It was interesting to hear his story: He works in the morning every day of the week, and attends school in the afternoon. At night he studies. He loves fútball and somehow, between all of this other activities, he finds time to play. He never laughed at my spanish skills (to my face, anyways), and we could communicate pretty well. It was the curious, toothless, old men we sold to that I struggled to understand!
So, HOW exactly did I get the opportunity to job-shadow Jose? Its all thanks to a wonderful organization called CONNAT´SOP. Since being in Potosi, we have been partnering with this organization and they have provided a really interesting looked into child labor.
CONNAT´SOP is an acronymn for a long phrase that basically means union for child and adolecent laborers; its the local branch of the national organization NNATS. This union´s main objectives are 1) To display child labor as good and healthy, not harmful. 2) To work to gain rights and recogition for child laborers. and 3) To end child labor in the silver mines of Potosi (which they see as undignified and dangerous). The union, though helped by a few local organizations, is self-run by the youth members.
The use and acceptance of child labor in Bolivia is so different from in the US. In the states, we view child labor as harmful and exploitive; stealing precious childhood (a romantisized western idea) from our nations youth. In Bolivia, as in many poorer nations, the idea of childhood doesnt exist. Children work to support themselves and their families. The main western critique of child labor is that it prevents the children from recieving an education. In the US, this is pretty much true. In Bolivia, on the other hand, working opens the door for many children to attend school. CONNAT´SOP requires all of its laborers to attend school, and it provides support for them to do so. Without income from working and the support the union provides, education would not be an option for most of these children. Before you judge the cruel, youth-stealing term ¨child labor¨ be sure you take a deeper look.
I woke up at 6:30 to meet Jose on the street and pick up his stack of the day´s paper. While we waited, he and his friends were shy; they kept hiding and avoiding eye contact. When the newspaper truck finally arrived, Jose picked up the papers, yelled something at me, and started running.
Literally running.
I hardly had time to realize what was going before he was half way down the street. When he told me we were going to run to sell the papers, I thought he was kidding! But he wasnt. To cover more ground, quickly, a lot of the top sellers run. I spent the rest of the morning chasing after a nimble 14 year old boy at 14,000 feet of altitude. As if walking up the stairs didnt already put me out of breath in the mountain town. Needless to say, I was exhausted when we sold out, which was, thanks to all of our running, an hour before everyone else.´
The experience was so unique and wonderful. Jose was quiet at first, but by the end I got him talking. It was interesting to hear his story: He works in the morning every day of the week, and attends school in the afternoon. At night he studies. He loves fútball and somehow, between all of this other activities, he finds time to play. He never laughed at my spanish skills (to my face, anyways), and we could communicate pretty well. It was the curious, toothless, old men we sold to that I struggled to understand!
So, HOW exactly did I get the opportunity to job-shadow Jose? Its all thanks to a wonderful organization called CONNAT´SOP. Since being in Potosi, we have been partnering with this organization and they have provided a really interesting looked into child labor.
CONNAT´SOP is an acronymn for a long phrase that basically means union for child and adolecent laborers; its the local branch of the national organization NNATS. This union´s main objectives are 1) To display child labor as good and healthy, not harmful. 2) To work to gain rights and recogition for child laborers. and 3) To end child labor in the silver mines of Potosi (which they see as undignified and dangerous). The union, though helped by a few local organizations, is self-run by the youth members.
The use and acceptance of child labor in Bolivia is so different from in the US. In the states, we view child labor as harmful and exploitive; stealing precious childhood (a romantisized western idea) from our nations youth. In Bolivia, as in many poorer nations, the idea of childhood doesnt exist. Children work to support themselves and their families. The main western critique of child labor is that it prevents the children from recieving an education. In the US, this is pretty much true. In Bolivia, on the other hand, working opens the door for many children to attend school. CONNAT´SOP requires all of its laborers to attend school, and it provides support for them to do so. Without income from working and the support the union provides, education would not be an option for most of these children. Before you judge the cruel, youth-stealing term ¨child labor¨ be sure you take a deeper look.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Dogs Always Come Home in Disney Movies
We attracted a dog during dinner on the last night of the trek. He stayed with us overnight and helped finish off the leftover oatmeal in the morning. As a joke, we named him Salí, which means ¨go away¨ in spanish. ¨Salí¨ is what Bolivians always yell at dogs so that they get out of the way, and we thought it would be funny if a dogs name was Salí because then when you are calling your dog, you are really saying ¨Come, Go Away! Come!¨ Is that a little cruel? Maybe, but we got a kick out of it.
Salí followed us the whole next day, trotting right by our heels as we hiked. This dog has quite the personality and we all grew attached to him quickly. Tim, our semester advisor, grew especially attached. None of us wanted to leave him when we reached our bus at the end of the day. I asked Tim, almost jokingly, ¨Please Dad? Can we keep him? Please?!¨ And his eyes showed that he was considering it. Still, it was a stretch. Pick up a stray dog in the mountains and bring him back to the city as a pet? Our schedule is packed, and how can we travel around with a dog?
Our pick-up bus was parked on the other side of a large swinging bridge. As we filed across, one by one, Salí tried to follow but was spooked and ran back. No amount of coaxing, bribing, or feeding could get him to step on the wobbly wooden planks. Suddenly we realized that Salí might not be coming to the other side of the river with us; we might have to say good bye for good.
Standing on the other side of the bridge, we watched Salí run down from the bridge, barking and barking, not sure why his new friends were leaving. He paced up and down the shore, looking for another way to cross besides the bridge, but the river was deep and fast and full of rapids. We knew he couldnt swim across. He continued running and barking for more than fifteen minutes, while we watched on the opposite shore, not sure what to do.
BUT THEN HE JUMPED IN. Everyone went crazy, afraid he would drown and shocked that he would be so persistant to cross. We all dropped our backpacks and ran towards the point where he was headed. About half way across, his head began bobbing as he fought the strong current, and we all held our breath. But he kept swimming and swimming and swimmin and HE MADE IT! We were all laughing and crying and screaming with disbelief. I finally understand why people describe dogs as loyal. The whole scenario was straight out of a Disney movie: the dog who faces death to be reunited with his family. Obviously, it was decided that we HAD to keep him.
He hopped right on the bus and slept the whole way back to Sucre. We picked off a few (huge) fleas, gave him a rabies shot, and bought a colar. After a 5 hour bus ride (and two minor vomit-accidents on Tim´s shirt), Salí is happily asleep on the floor of our hostal in Potosi. Now, we officially have a dog!
Salí followed us the whole next day, trotting right by our heels as we hiked. This dog has quite the personality and we all grew attached to him quickly. Tim, our semester advisor, grew especially attached. None of us wanted to leave him when we reached our bus at the end of the day. I asked Tim, almost jokingly, ¨Please Dad? Can we keep him? Please?!¨ And his eyes showed that he was considering it. Still, it was a stretch. Pick up a stray dog in the mountains and bring him back to the city as a pet? Our schedule is packed, and how can we travel around with a dog?
Our pick-up bus was parked on the other side of a large swinging bridge. As we filed across, one by one, Salí tried to follow but was spooked and ran back. No amount of coaxing, bribing, or feeding could get him to step on the wobbly wooden planks. Suddenly we realized that Salí might not be coming to the other side of the river with us; we might have to say good bye for good.
Standing on the other side of the bridge, we watched Salí run down from the bridge, barking and barking, not sure why his new friends were leaving. He paced up and down the shore, looking for another way to cross besides the bridge, but the river was deep and fast and full of rapids. We knew he couldnt swim across. He continued running and barking for more than fifteen minutes, while we watched on the opposite shore, not sure what to do.
BUT THEN HE JUMPED IN. Everyone went crazy, afraid he would drown and shocked that he would be so persistant to cross. We all dropped our backpacks and ran towards the point where he was headed. About half way across, his head began bobbing as he fought the strong current, and we all held our breath. But he kept swimming and swimming and swimmin and HE MADE IT! We were all laughing and crying and screaming with disbelief. I finally understand why people describe dogs as loyal. The whole scenario was straight out of a Disney movie: the dog who faces death to be reunited with his family. Obviously, it was decided that we HAD to keep him.
He hopped right on the bus and slept the whole way back to Sucre. We picked off a few (huge) fleas, gave him a rabies shot, and bought a colar. After a 5 hour bus ride (and two minor vomit-accidents on Tim´s shirt), Salí is happily asleep on the floor of our hostal in Potosi. Now, we officially have a dog!
Singing in the Rain
I havent gotten much sleep in the past week. We have been so busy, I hardly have time to think!
After getting off the overnight bus from Cochabamba to Sucre, there was no time for a nap. Sucre is a beautiful colonial city. All the building are white and the colonial style churches reach up towards the sky, mimicing the mountains behind them. Unfortunately we didnt have much time to explore the city because we had too much preparation to do! We immediately began to organize our food and gear for the trek. After a late dinner and last minute packing, we went to sleep for a few hours. At 4:30 am we woke up, loaded onto the bus, and headed out to start our trek.
The trek was unlike any trek Ive ever done. While we were surrounded by natural beauty, staying in tents, and cooking over camp stoves, we werent really in the wilderness. Instead, we were floating in and out of rural communities. Our first night, we arrived in a village looking for a field to camp in. Because it was raining (read: POURING), they offered the local school house for us to sleep in. It was wonderful, and dry, and totally different from what I was expecting. The next night, we set up our tents in a family´s livestock pasture, right next to their grazing donkeys. The family who owned the land entertained us that night by showing us showing us local weavings, and the youngest boy played a traditional Andean flute. On our last night, we camped in the yard of an old church. We awoke in the morning to water balloons being launched at us over the wall surrounding the near-by school.
I am fortunate to have seen so many different mountains in my life. Each range is so different and so unique, yet I always struggle to distinguish them. During one of our silent periods on the hike, I meditated on this point and tried to eternalize the personality of the mountains around me. While there are many similarities between the Himalayas and the Andes (particularly their importance to the populations that respect and depend on them), there are also very, very strong differences. To me, the Himalayas are dramatic and sublime; they are sharp angles of dark gray, living green, and bright white. In contrast, the Andes are tranquillo and have a nurturing beauty; a careful marble of purple, aqua, brown, orange, and sage.
Despite the distractions of being surrounded by 19 other people (13 students, 4 instructors, a guide and an intern...not to mention a dog who will be discussed soon), it was impossible to ignore the astounding beauty surrounding us. My favorite moment of the trek was on our third day, during our hike through a GIANT crater. The crater itself is a giant hole sunk into the ground, most likely formed by an ancient volcano. It is surrounded on all sides by scalloped hills of exposed, layered rock. These hills are unlike anything Ive ever seen: concentrically layered like an onion with bright aquas, oranges, purples, and browns. (Just wait until I am able to post a few photos, which hopefully will be soon!) As we headed over the pass and out of the crater, the weather rolled in. Clouds and rain soon obscured our view of the mountains, and made it difficult to see even the person walking in front of us. My boots were weighed down with at least 7 pounds of mud. But as I looked down to see just how much mud really was clinging to my boots, I was suprised. Yes, there really was at least 7 pounds of mud on my feet; that part wasnt suprising. I was suprised because the mud on my feet, just like the rock on the mountains, was in layers of so many colors. It looked as if someone had painted an earthy, jewel-toned rainbow onto my toes. I smiled to myself, alone with the simple, astounding beauty of mud, before something snapped me back into the reality of being in a group of 20: Greg squealing as he sunk calf-deep into a soft spot on the trail. I laughed out loud and smiled even bigger, because the only thing better than the beauty of Pacha Mama is experiencing it with lovely people.
After getting off the overnight bus from Cochabamba to Sucre, there was no time for a nap. Sucre is a beautiful colonial city. All the building are white and the colonial style churches reach up towards the sky, mimicing the mountains behind them. Unfortunately we didnt have much time to explore the city because we had too much preparation to do! We immediately began to organize our food and gear for the trek. After a late dinner and last minute packing, we went to sleep for a few hours. At 4:30 am we woke up, loaded onto the bus, and headed out to start our trek.
The trek was unlike any trek Ive ever done. While we were surrounded by natural beauty, staying in tents, and cooking over camp stoves, we werent really in the wilderness. Instead, we were floating in and out of rural communities. Our first night, we arrived in a village looking for a field to camp in. Because it was raining (read: POURING), they offered the local school house for us to sleep in. It was wonderful, and dry, and totally different from what I was expecting. The next night, we set up our tents in a family´s livestock pasture, right next to their grazing donkeys. The family who owned the land entertained us that night by showing us showing us local weavings, and the youngest boy played a traditional Andean flute. On our last night, we camped in the yard of an old church. We awoke in the morning to water balloons being launched at us over the wall surrounding the near-by school.
I am fortunate to have seen so many different mountains in my life. Each range is so different and so unique, yet I always struggle to distinguish them. During one of our silent periods on the hike, I meditated on this point and tried to eternalize the personality of the mountains around me. While there are many similarities between the Himalayas and the Andes (particularly their importance to the populations that respect and depend on them), there are also very, very strong differences. To me, the Himalayas are dramatic and sublime; they are sharp angles of dark gray, living green, and bright white. In contrast, the Andes are tranquillo and have a nurturing beauty; a careful marble of purple, aqua, brown, orange, and sage.
Despite the distractions of being surrounded by 19 other people (13 students, 4 instructors, a guide and an intern...not to mention a dog who will be discussed soon), it was impossible to ignore the astounding beauty surrounding us. My favorite moment of the trek was on our third day, during our hike through a GIANT crater. The crater itself is a giant hole sunk into the ground, most likely formed by an ancient volcano. It is surrounded on all sides by scalloped hills of exposed, layered rock. These hills are unlike anything Ive ever seen: concentrically layered like an onion with bright aquas, oranges, purples, and browns. (Just wait until I am able to post a few photos, which hopefully will be soon!) As we headed over the pass and out of the crater, the weather rolled in. Clouds and rain soon obscured our view of the mountains, and made it difficult to see even the person walking in front of us. My boots were weighed down with at least 7 pounds of mud. But as I looked down to see just how much mud really was clinging to my boots, I was suprised. Yes, there really was at least 7 pounds of mud on my feet; that part wasnt suprising. I was suprised because the mud on my feet, just like the rock on the mountains, was in layers of so many colors. It looked as if someone had painted an earthy, jewel-toned rainbow onto my toes. I smiled to myself, alone with the simple, astounding beauty of mud, before something snapped me back into the reality of being in a group of 20: Greg squealing as he sunk calf-deep into a soft spot on the trail. I laughed out loud and smiled even bigger, because the only thing better than the beauty of Pacha Mama is experiencing it with lovely people.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Goodbye, Cochabamba!
The strike is calming down so we are finally able to leave Cochabamba. I already love to city so Im sad to leave, but I cant wait to see more of the country. We are taking a night bus and will be in Sucre by tomorrow morning.
From Sucre, we will be going on a short backpacking trip. Then we will be visiting Potosi and the Uyuni. We have some awesome things planned for both places!
In short, I wont have internet for a while. But stay tuned for some insite on fusion cultures and updates on Sucre, Potosi, and Uyuni!
From Sucre, we will be going on a short backpacking trip. Then we will be visiting Potosi and the Uyuni. We have some awesome things planned for both places!
In short, I wont have internet for a while. But stay tuned for some insite on fusion cultures and updates on Sucre, Potosi, and Uyuni!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Radicals, Racism, and Activism
I almost didnt get to write this post today. The streets are wild with protests over transportation prices, and nearly everything is closed. A woman let me into her internet cafe through the back door, since her front gate is barred "para cuidar."
Politics are so active in Bolivia right now, and I´ve been lucky to have so much exposure to the world of Bolivian activism in the past few days.
-We had dinner with Jack H., an american who has gone-native and become a radical leftist activist for indigenous rights in Bolivia. He is an amazing muscian, and he is married to prominate activist and artist Valentina. He spoke about his work and what still needs to be done for los campasinos.
-We visted the Democracy Now center, and were lucky to have a meeting with Jim Shultz: world famous activist best known for ousting the Bechtel Corporation the Cochabamba water wars. He spoke about his work and how to organize for a cause. He is a genius man and not one of us didn´t leave wanting to pick up a picket sign. (Dont worry, Mom. Im not going to get arrested.)
-Last night we had dinner at Collectivo Kartari, which is a politically motivated artist collective. They shared their wonderful tallents with us, explained their purpose of educating others about indigenous history and abuse, and they fixed us an AMAZING vegetarian meal.
The current strike today didnt suprise me, because I witnessed the planning of it in the plaza yesterday, around a gallery of politcal articles and critiques. Without twitter and facebook, these galleries are how information is spread to the masses. And there were masses. I soon found myself in a conversation with a local, asking about the current situation and what was about to occur. Despite my poor spanish, we were able to discuss Evo Morales, Obama, socialism, racism, and inequality.
Trust me, if there is any true natural high, its talking politics in a nother language!
Politics are so active in Bolivia right now, and I´ve been lucky to have so much exposure to the world of Bolivian activism in the past few days.
-We had dinner with Jack H., an american who has gone-native and become a radical leftist activist for indigenous rights in Bolivia. He is an amazing muscian, and he is married to prominate activist and artist Valentina. He spoke about his work and what still needs to be done for los campasinos.
-We visted the Democracy Now center, and were lucky to have a meeting with Jim Shultz: world famous activist best known for ousting the Bechtel Corporation the Cochabamba water wars. He spoke about his work and how to organize for a cause. He is a genius man and not one of us didn´t leave wanting to pick up a picket sign. (Dont worry, Mom. Im not going to get arrested.)
-Last night we had dinner at Collectivo Kartari, which is a politically motivated artist collective. They shared their wonderful tallents with us, explained their purpose of educating others about indigenous history and abuse, and they fixed us an AMAZING vegetarian meal.
The current strike today didnt suprise me, because I witnessed the planning of it in the plaza yesterday, around a gallery of politcal articles and critiques. Without twitter and facebook, these galleries are how information is spread to the masses. And there were masses. I soon found myself in a conversation with a local, asking about the current situation and what was about to occur. Despite my poor spanish, we were able to discuss Evo Morales, Obama, socialism, racism, and inequality.
Trust me, if there is any true natural high, its talking politics in a nother language!
bolivia: llama fetus and chocolate soymilk
Last Thursday morning (almost a week ago), I stepped off the plane at the world´s highest airport (13,000 ft) in El Alto, on the outskirts of La Paz. I was shakey with altitude, but mostly with excitement. After a full day of travel, I was excited to feel the rainy, coca-scented air of Bolivia.
From La Paz, my group hopped on a bus to descend to a lower elevation that would become our orientation home for the next few days. OH MY GOODNESS, THE BUS. It was the best foreign bus I´ve ever been on. It was a double decker bus (which I´ve never ridden on before), and the seats were like lounge chairs. I was lucky to sit on the top at the very front, surrounded by glass windows on three sides. I watched the Bolivian landscape roll by, chewing on coca leaves, and I couldnt help but laugh to myself everytime we passed a "Llama X-ing" sign on the side of the road. I was pretty content.
Between the llamas, the coca, and the bright indigenous people, Bolivia has, in many ways, matched the image I had in my head but never expected to see actualized. The only difference is that Bolivia is so clean! La Paz, in contrast to Kathmandu, is nice and well kept. There is no trash on the streets, there are green areas and gazebos dotting the city, and colored shrubs are planted in geometric patterns along the road medians for no purpose other than asthetics. Its true, I havent yet visited the poorer regions of Bolivia, but so far is has been extremely tidy.
Our group´s first few days were spent at El Poncho- an Eco-Lodge built from divine Andean numbers and cosmology- doing orientation activities and getting to know each other.
I´ve truly never been in a group that has clicked so well, so quickly. We are all very different, ranging in age from 17 to 21, but we get along great. We are already like family.
Still, the group experience is really different from my last semester. Our seminars on group dynamics and leadership roles are strongly reminiscent of NOLS, meanwhile the accountability we have to our instructors reminds me of a loosely-framed People to People trip. Perhaps the biggest difference is not being in a group, but rather being in a class-type setting with organized lessons and activities. It is different from the freedom and mobility I am used to, but I am learning more academics and gaining more contacts than I ever would on my own. In our free time, I still have plenty of opportunities for the cultural interaction that I love.
The other afternoon, while on a short hike, I was lured into an onion patch by several local girls. I spent the next hour chatting and pulling weeds by their sides. They sowed me some Bolivian dances, and in fair exchange I sang them a Celine Dion song and performed the Macarena.
I am currently in Cochabamba, one of Bolivia´s larger, nicer cities. Cochabamba is also home to South America´s largest Christo (Jesus statue) and South America´s largest open-air market. I have gone to visit both. I discovered my new favorite fruit in the market: chirimoya (custard apple). You can find anything and everything in the market, from hats to meats to furniture to live animals to stolen car parts. One of the strangest things I discovered were the dried llama fetuses (used as offerings) that hang from so many of the small stalls. The smallest were only 12 inches, but they grew upward in size and some were even mature enough to have fur.
The only thing I´ve found for sale in Bolivia that has shocked me as much as the llama fetuses is chocolate soymilk. Not lying. The beverage I expected to live without is actually sold (in plastic bags, no less) at every corner market and street cart!
I could bore you with more about my first few days in the country, but I wont. If you really want more perspective, you can check out the Yak Yak board at http://www.wheretherebedragons.com/yakyak.php (my course is Andes and Amazon, spring 2011). This is a collective blog that my whole group will be updating (under compulsion...) throught the course.
No worries! I´ll still be updating this blog, and most likely I´ll be copying and pasting onto the Yak Yak board. But feel free to check it out if you want to hear about Bolivia from the mouths (or keyboards) of my peers.
From La Paz, my group hopped on a bus to descend to a lower elevation that would become our orientation home for the next few days. OH MY GOODNESS, THE BUS. It was the best foreign bus I´ve ever been on. It was a double decker bus (which I´ve never ridden on before), and the seats were like lounge chairs. I was lucky to sit on the top at the very front, surrounded by glass windows on three sides. I watched the Bolivian landscape roll by, chewing on coca leaves, and I couldnt help but laugh to myself everytime we passed a "Llama X-ing" sign on the side of the road. I was pretty content.
Between the llamas, the coca, and the bright indigenous people, Bolivia has, in many ways, matched the image I had in my head but never expected to see actualized. The only difference is that Bolivia is so clean! La Paz, in contrast to Kathmandu, is nice and well kept. There is no trash on the streets, there are green areas and gazebos dotting the city, and colored shrubs are planted in geometric patterns along the road medians for no purpose other than asthetics. Its true, I havent yet visited the poorer regions of Bolivia, but so far is has been extremely tidy.
Our group´s first few days were spent at El Poncho- an Eco-Lodge built from divine Andean numbers and cosmology- doing orientation activities and getting to know each other.
I´ve truly never been in a group that has clicked so well, so quickly. We are all very different, ranging in age from 17 to 21, but we get along great. We are already like family.
Still, the group experience is really different from my last semester. Our seminars on group dynamics and leadership roles are strongly reminiscent of NOLS, meanwhile the accountability we have to our instructors reminds me of a loosely-framed People to People trip. Perhaps the biggest difference is not being in a group, but rather being in a class-type setting with organized lessons and activities. It is different from the freedom and mobility I am used to, but I am learning more academics and gaining more contacts than I ever would on my own. In our free time, I still have plenty of opportunities for the cultural interaction that I love.
The other afternoon, while on a short hike, I was lured into an onion patch by several local girls. I spent the next hour chatting and pulling weeds by their sides. They sowed me some Bolivian dances, and in fair exchange I sang them a Celine Dion song and performed the Macarena.
I am currently in Cochabamba, one of Bolivia´s larger, nicer cities. Cochabamba is also home to South America´s largest Christo (Jesus statue) and South America´s largest open-air market. I have gone to visit both. I discovered my new favorite fruit in the market: chirimoya (custard apple). You can find anything and everything in the market, from hats to meats to furniture to live animals to stolen car parts. One of the strangest things I discovered were the dried llama fetuses (used as offerings) that hang from so many of the small stalls. The smallest were only 12 inches, but they grew upward in size and some were even mature enough to have fur.
The only thing I´ve found for sale in Bolivia that has shocked me as much as the llama fetuses is chocolate soymilk. Not lying. The beverage I expected to live without is actually sold (in plastic bags, no less) at every corner market and street cart!
I could bore you with more about my first few days in the country, but I wont. If you really want more perspective, you can check out the Yak Yak board at http://www.wheretherebedragons.com/yakyak.php (my course is Andes and Amazon, spring 2011). This is a collective blog that my whole group will be updating (under compulsion...) throught the course.
No worries! I´ll still be updating this blog, and most likely I´ll be copying and pasting onto the Yak Yak board. But feel free to check it out if you want to hear about Bolivia from the mouths (or keyboards) of my peers.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
One Last Note
By the time the (predicted) snow arrives in Raleigh tomorrow morning, I will be in the hot, tropical Amazon rainforest in Bolivia.
Okay, I will actually be in La Paz (which is in the mountains), but the tropical rainforest made a better contrast with the snow. Still, it will still be summer in Bolivia and there definitely will not be snow in La Paz!
My plane leaves in a few hours and I am almost (kinda, maybe...) all packed. So far, the nerves/excitement/fear hasn't set in. Those emotions come from the travel preparations like flight details, emergency contacts, visa materials, and all those practical things you take care of that make you FEEL like you are really responsible for going somewhere. This whole group-travel thing has stripped me from those preparations, because the program has done it all for me. They even mailed me a little card to carry with me in the Miami airport so that I dont get lost...seriously!
I am also not nervous because I dont really feel like I will be gone for that long. Last summer, I would have guessed that three months away from my friends and my home would have felt like forever, but not anymore. Im leaving today and I feel like I'll be back next week! I guess this made packing easier, because I kept telling myself "No, dont packed the extra bottle. Its only three months. Its OKAY if you run out of soap..."
Dont get me wrong, just because Im not nervous doesnt mean Im not happy to go! I can't wait to meet the other nine students in my group, and I cant wait to step off the plane tomorrow morning in the highest capital city in the world. The Andes mountains are calling my name, and I cant wait to see the Amazon, either.
I should probably stop procrastinating and finish packing (I swear, Im ALMOST done) and clean up the landfill in my room (yes, its time to pick up those Nepal photographs and store away the Saree...). Then Im going to enjoy one last bowl of gluten-free cereal and non-dairy milk-a 'last supper' if you will- before I head off to a land of new, and probably non-vegetarian, food.
My next post will be in Bolivia! And although Im not sure how often I'll be able to update this blog, I should have computer access at least once a week. I know this because we are required to email our parents weekly, although I dont know if these emails will be sent before or after our full-body tattoo/piercing searches and our drug- and alcohol-tests. Needless to say, I will be safe and you WILL hear from me.
Until then...chao!
Okay, I will actually be in La Paz (which is in the mountains), but the tropical rainforest made a better contrast with the snow. Still, it will still be summer in Bolivia and there definitely will not be snow in La Paz!
My plane leaves in a few hours and I am almost (kinda, maybe...) all packed. So far, the nerves/excitement/fear hasn't set in. Those emotions come from the travel preparations like flight details, emergency contacts, visa materials, and all those practical things you take care of that make you FEEL like you are really responsible for going somewhere. This whole group-travel thing has stripped me from those preparations, because the program has done it all for me. They even mailed me a little card to carry with me in the Miami airport so that I dont get lost...seriously!
I am also not nervous because I dont really feel like I will be gone for that long. Last summer, I would have guessed that three months away from my friends and my home would have felt like forever, but not anymore. Im leaving today and I feel like I'll be back next week! I guess this made packing easier, because I kept telling myself "No, dont packed the extra bottle. Its only three months. Its OKAY if you run out of soap..."
Dont get me wrong, just because Im not nervous doesnt mean Im not happy to go! I can't wait to meet the other nine students in my group, and I cant wait to step off the plane tomorrow morning in the highest capital city in the world. The Andes mountains are calling my name, and I cant wait to see the Amazon, either.
I should probably stop procrastinating and finish packing (I swear, Im ALMOST done) and clean up the landfill in my room (yes, its time to pick up those Nepal photographs and store away the Saree...). Then Im going to enjoy one last bowl of gluten-free cereal and non-dairy milk-a 'last supper' if you will- before I head off to a land of new, and probably non-vegetarian, food.
My next post will be in Bolivia! And although Im not sure how often I'll be able to update this blog, I should have computer access at least once a week. I know this because we are required to email our parents weekly, although I dont know if these emails will be sent before or after our full-body tattoo/piercing searches and our drug- and alcohol-tests. Needless to say, I will be safe and you WILL hear from me.
Until then...chao!
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