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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)