Sunday, August 8, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
have you ever fallen in love with a place the moment you saw it? Sucre is fantastic. After coming from cold, smoggy, and terribly sad Potosi, Sucre was warm and inviting and incredibly beautiful. Ignoring for a minute my aptitude for social deviance, I kind of like the fact that every house has to be whitewashed once a year. Conformist, yes, but also linda. There are colonial historic buildings evverywhere and i forsake the four hour round trip to see the dinosaur tracks in favor of just strolling around. Its the kind of place where you dont mind if you get lost (which I always do) because around every corner is something beautiful or fascinating. Out of the many museum choices, I elected the Museo de Arte Indigenia, one of the best explained and well laid out Ive been to in Bolivia. Each of the many indigenous communities near Sucre has a distinct weaving form, and the changes over the years are well explained. Whats more, they do a great work of ensuring fair trade and livable prices for these weavings when tourists are purchasing. Kind of interesting, just as you leave the museum there are tons of women selling their weavings who badmouth the museum and try to lure you in with "cheaper prices."
In Potosi I braved my fear of tight enclosed spaces and immersed myself 2 km into the center of Cerro Rico, the famous mountain of wealth which the Spanish killed for, and in which 8 million indigenous people died. Our tour guide was a current mine worker, who gives tours on his days off, and was attempting to learn English, which was comical in the least. We bought coca leaves and 96% alcohol to bring to the miners, and even set off an explosive of our own. Also in Potosi I went to the Casa de Moneda, and to my delight the machines to press the coins were made in none other than Philadelphia. These were also beautiful, until you saw the ruts in the ground around the machine, made by countless revolutions of slaves pushing the gears, wearing away the ground beneath their feet. After slaves became socially unacceptable, they were replaced with mules, whose average lifespan was 17 days, if you can imagine.
That night I splurged and bought myself a whole $20 hotel room, fabulously elegant and complete with a charming doorman and three floors of cascading flowers and an abundance of hot water. Every other night had been on a bus or in cold box of a hostel room. Comparision heightens appreciation. maybe ? in any case, my first experience traveling truly alone was truly rewarding, and I only wish I had more time. not that it was vacation ... err .. um... I was clearly doing important anthropological research =)
In Potosi I braved my fear of tight enclosed spaces and immersed myself 2 km into the center of Cerro Rico, the famous mountain of wealth which the Spanish killed for, and in which 8 million indigenous people died. Our tour guide was a current mine worker, who gives tours on his days off, and was attempting to learn English, which was comical in the least. We bought coca leaves and 96% alcohol to bring to the miners, and even set off an explosive of our own. Also in Potosi I went to the Casa de Moneda, and to my delight the machines to press the coins were made in none other than Philadelphia. These were also beautiful, until you saw the ruts in the ground around the machine, made by countless revolutions of slaves pushing the gears, wearing away the ground beneath their feet. After slaves became socially unacceptable, they were replaced with mules, whose average lifespan was 17 days, if you can imagine.
That night I splurged and bought myself a whole $20 hotel room, fabulously elegant and complete with a charming doorman and three floors of cascading flowers and an abundance of hot water. Every other night had been on a bus or in cold box of a hostel room. Comparision heightens appreciation. maybe ? in any case, my first experience traveling truly alone was truly rewarding, and I only wish I had more time. not that it was vacation ... err .. um... I was clearly doing important anthropological research =)
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The problem with blogs is that you can never even begin to explain all of what you´ve seen, and then you get disheartened at your inability to write in english (though perhaps this is a result of your improving Spanish?) and end up with long lapses and your parents wondering where you´ve been for the past two weeks.
·skip forward from Uyuni·
Sunday is by far my favorite day in Cochabamba. We wake up late and cook for the entire morning, then have a leisurely lunch of two hours or more. Then we sit outside in the afternoon sun and chat, or play a little cacho, and then watch la favorita (a fabulously entertaining soap opera, which is only made more hilarious by the fact I only see it once a week and have quite a bit of catching up to do). This Sunday I received the news that the Minister of Education had canceled classes until Thursday ¨due to the cold.¨ Since my school is a boarding school, the director decided to cancel all week.
Good News - I have a whole week to travel!
Bad News - With all these cancelations and holidays, I dont know how my students are ever going to learn english or their other course material...
I wanted to go to Potosi last night, but for some reason all the buses were full. Not wanting to lose an entire day of travel, I decided to go to Oruro instead, which if you look at a Bolivian map isnt exactly on the way...
i got to oruro and realized the bus they promised me would leave for potosi tonight doesnt exist, and booked myself a quiet little hostel room for a good nights sleep.
In the morning I secured a ticket to Potosi for 10pm, giving me the day to roam and explore. First went to an archeological museum which was rather disorganized but had an incredible collection of Carnaval costumes. Oruro started out as a mining town, but as stores of minerals depleted it became increasingly run down. Its lasting claim to fame, however, is Carnaval, for which preparations take place all year and the entire towns tourism rates supposedly spike by 5 times in the month of febuary. There are over 20 different distinct types of dance, all with their own intricate costumes and beautiful history of the dance. Not being much of a dancer myself (with many friends hurt toes to confirm that) the whole production of it is fascinating to me. Later I strolled down avenida La Paz, in which all of the costume workshops are housed. Caught in the act of staring wide-eyed at the colorful array, one lady invited me in and explained her work, and the process of spending months on just one costume.
I had a delicious lunch of vegetables and pasta (how very anti-bolivian, i know) and fresh tumbo juice. Ive decided I kind of like eating by myself. Once you get over the initial odd stares from other diners, its actually kind of peaceful.
after walking what seemed like the entire city to find the best ice cream ( and I did!) Went to another Museo which was inside what used to be a mine... some incredible stories about the conditions and triksy little ways people would smuggle out metal in their clothes and sell it on their own .
I hiked back over to the terminal and skyped my family - ended up talking to parents and cass in pa, zach in va, and me over here in ba. =) the internet is pretty swell.
More adventures in Potosi and Sucre to follow....
·skip forward from Uyuni·
Sunday is by far my favorite day in Cochabamba. We wake up late and cook for the entire morning, then have a leisurely lunch of two hours or more. Then we sit outside in the afternoon sun and chat, or play a little cacho, and then watch la favorita (a fabulously entertaining soap opera, which is only made more hilarious by the fact I only see it once a week and have quite a bit of catching up to do). This Sunday I received the news that the Minister of Education had canceled classes until Thursday ¨due to the cold.¨ Since my school is a boarding school, the director decided to cancel all week.
Good News - I have a whole week to travel!
Bad News - With all these cancelations and holidays, I dont know how my students are ever going to learn english or their other course material...
I wanted to go to Potosi last night, but for some reason all the buses were full. Not wanting to lose an entire day of travel, I decided to go to Oruro instead, which if you look at a Bolivian map isnt exactly on the way...
i got to oruro and realized the bus they promised me would leave for potosi tonight doesnt exist, and booked myself a quiet little hostel room for a good nights sleep.
In the morning I secured a ticket to Potosi for 10pm, giving me the day to roam and explore. First went to an archeological museum which was rather disorganized but had an incredible collection of Carnaval costumes. Oruro started out as a mining town, but as stores of minerals depleted it became increasingly run down. Its lasting claim to fame, however, is Carnaval, for which preparations take place all year and the entire towns tourism rates supposedly spike by 5 times in the month of febuary. There are over 20 different distinct types of dance, all with their own intricate costumes and beautiful history of the dance. Not being much of a dancer myself (with many friends hurt toes to confirm that) the whole production of it is fascinating to me. Later I strolled down avenida La Paz, in which all of the costume workshops are housed. Caught in the act of staring wide-eyed at the colorful array, one lady invited me in and explained her work, and the process of spending months on just one costume.
I had a delicious lunch of vegetables and pasta (how very anti-bolivian, i know) and fresh tumbo juice. Ive decided I kind of like eating by myself. Once you get over the initial odd stares from other diners, its actually kind of peaceful.
after walking what seemed like the entire city to find the best ice cream ( and I did!) Went to another Museo which was inside what used to be a mine... some incredible stories about the conditions and triksy little ways people would smuggle out metal in their clothes and sell it on their own .
I hiked back over to the terminal and skyped my family - ended up talking to parents and cass in pa, zach in va, and me over here in ba. =) the internet is pretty swell.
More adventures in Potosi and Sucre to follow....
Monday, July 12, 2010
Hollandish Neanderthals
Wednesday afternoon begins the epic and adventurous trip to Uyuni. Mateo Lucas and I are all in high spirits on the short four hour bus to oruro. We dont yet actually have tickets to Uyuni, but have been assured there will be ample space on multiple buses. We should have two hours of leeway time in order to secure tickets and even get some dinner.
Alas, this is Bolivia.
The bus rolls up and we have 30 minutes before the last buses leave. Lucas runs to an internet cafe to submit the final portion of his grant (which was written on scrap paper on the bus) as Mateo and I scramble to find seats. Turns out there's a roadblock between Oruro and Potosi, so everyone who would have been going to Potosi is now trying to go to Uyuni. We end up splitting up, Mateo on one bus, and Lucas and I on the other. As we get on the bus, a man in uniform guides us to our "seats" and puts my luggage in the overhead compartment. Then another lady and her two kids gets on and says we're in her seats. Distraction and aggravation ensue, and finally they send lucas to another seat, and I get wedged in between three little wawas on either side, which will then cry and drool on me all night.
After 10 hours on this freezing cold bus, we awake from a restless slumber in the icy town of Uyuni. As we go to get of the bus, I realize my backpack isnt there. Remember that guy who worked for the bus company? He didnt. Sly foxes those theives. So here I am in the middle of winter, in the coldest part of Bolivia, without a change of clothes or even a hat to my name.
Spirits not so high, we find Mateo and book our three day salar tour, which will leave at 10 am. with a couple hours to kill, we head to the market and deck me out in an absolutely ridiculous amount of artesan clothing - socks, gloves, a hat and sweater. ( P.s. tourists are the only people who think this clothing is cool. Bolivians are walking around in the same made in china crap most of the U.S is.)
We then meet our traveling companions for three days - two girls from Holland on vacation and an American who teaches in Cochabamba and set out in a quite cosy Jeep with the six of us and the guide, Edwin, packed in there. The salar (salt flats) is our first site, and is absolutely incredible, just as everyone says. We eat a picnic lunch and climb about on this cactus covered island for a bit before continuing on through the desolate landscape.
We get to our hostal type thing for the night and as we are unloading realize our sleeping bags are still at the office in Uyuni. Some level of miscommunication between ourselves and the driver. At this point I can only laugh, and wonder who I offended this horribly to have karma kicking my ass this royally. The other girls are awesome though, and we have a great dinner and stay up talking after dinner until the power turns off... the generator only runs for two hours each day. Mateo, being his ridiculous self, keeps asking them to speak "hollish" and wondering what "neanderthal," by which I think he meant netherlands, dances are like.
The next day is even colder, but we see a series of incredible colored lakes... all of the different minerals give each lake a different appearance.Other stops include the "army of rocks" which is this really eerie serie of gigantic peices of coral which somehow got deposited in the middle of a now-dry basin millions of years ago. Tonight we are at another salt hotel, but higher in altitude. Its too cold to sleep. Im grateful when the alarm rings at 5 am, because at least then we're in the car and body heat is mildly abating the peircing cold.
Our first stop and probably my favorite site was the geysers... so eerie at 6 am but really strangely beautiful as well. If you ever forget that the earth is a powerful force, theres nothing like boiling sulfur holes and jets of water shooting 60 ft in the air to remind you. We then went to the thermal hotsprings, which, once you siked yourself up enough to strip down in the icy air in order to get in, were absolutely divine. We all wanted to stay longer, but the Edwin insisted we start our 9 hr trek back to uyuni so that we arive before dark. we got our second flat tire, but this time the road was too sandy to use the jack, so the guide drives up on two rocks, and then bolsters the axle with more rocks in order to get the tire off. I wonder what the appropriate course of action is if our guide gets crushed by our jeep. But he's a pro, and we arrive in Uyuni safe and sound, say goodbye to our friends, buy bus tickets home for tomorrow night and check into a hostal for a nice hot shower.
We're all pretty exhausted but decide to go out for a little bit. We end up at a pub talking to a french boy and german girl, and so we're all communicating in our non-native tongue. one of the best parts of traveling is the amazimgly diverse and interesting people you are bound to meet. We're playing Cacho embarassingly poorly, and the bartender keeps stopping by our table to teach us new tricks. The bar is supposed to close at one, but the bartender didnt want to go home either and so taught us a new dice game - mentiroso, kind of like liar's dice but with only two dice. Since today is Uyuni's birthday, the festivities began at Midnight, and so we head out to the square to dance, because continually moving (and drinking) is the only way to keep your mind off of the frostbite that has probably consumed at least two toes.
The next morning we watch speeches and a parade, waiting for the supposed appearance of Evo Morales, who we never actually did see, and then head inside to watch the World Cup. Afterwards we have 2 hours before our bus comes to get dinner, which we figure should be plenty. Then we realize after we have already ordered, that our waitress is fairly drunk. In fact, Im quite sure 90% of the town was stumbling around drunk. At the table next to us, a 60 year old man is bellowing out love ballads, and some other sloppy man comes over to talk to us. He tells us he's a tour guide for the salar and has a tour leaving early tomorrow. Suddenly, Im very glad we paid a little bit more for our tour company, and avoided whatever drunk/hungover guides we might have had otherwise.
This is a horrifically long blog post, but you're about to get to the best part !
Our bus is supposed to leave at 8, and we've asked several times by 8 45 if it has showed up yet. We ask again and they tell us "oh, that bus is cancelled. theres another one tomorrow though!" again we scramble to find a bus that can get us out of this forsaken town tonight... there appears to be one left, but with no seats. The driver promises us a spot, but then 20 more "centrales" or people who just sit in the aisleway get on, and theres no way theres room for us. We scramble again and find another, and brace ourselves for a ten hour journey, sitting in an aiselway, on an already sketchy bus. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.
i get wedged in between more kids, but this time a group of cousins ages 6 to 13, who are all absolutely adorable and fascinated by our very presence. We have to sing them a round of "row row row your boat" in order to coax them into sleep. When we arrive in Oruro, they give me a little origami flower they made, and say goodbye using all the fun new english words (however unsuited to the context) they just learned. =)
Im out a camera, cell phone, and lots of warm clothes. But enriched by the beauty of Bolivia and warmth of friends. This could be equally the worst, and also the most enjoyable, trip I've ever been on.
Wednesday afternoon begins the epic and adventurous trip to Uyuni. Mateo Lucas and I are all in high spirits on the short four hour bus to oruro. We dont yet actually have tickets to Uyuni, but have been assured there will be ample space on multiple buses. We should have two hours of leeway time in order to secure tickets and even get some dinner.
Alas, this is Bolivia.
The bus rolls up and we have 30 minutes before the last buses leave. Lucas runs to an internet cafe to submit the final portion of his grant (which was written on scrap paper on the bus) as Mateo and I scramble to find seats. Turns out there's a roadblock between Oruro and Potosi, so everyone who would have been going to Potosi is now trying to go to Uyuni. We end up splitting up, Mateo on one bus, and Lucas and I on the other. As we get on the bus, a man in uniform guides us to our "seats" and puts my luggage in the overhead compartment. Then another lady and her two kids gets on and says we're in her seats. Distraction and aggravation ensue, and finally they send lucas to another seat, and I get wedged in between three little wawas on either side, which will then cry and drool on me all night.
After 10 hours on this freezing cold bus, we awake from a restless slumber in the icy town of Uyuni. As we go to get of the bus, I realize my backpack isnt there. Remember that guy who worked for the bus company? He didnt. Sly foxes those theives. So here I am in the middle of winter, in the coldest part of Bolivia, without a change of clothes or even a hat to my name.
Spirits not so high, we find Mateo and book our three day salar tour, which will leave at 10 am. with a couple hours to kill, we head to the market and deck me out in an absolutely ridiculous amount of artesan clothing - socks, gloves, a hat and sweater. ( P.s. tourists are the only people who think this clothing is cool. Bolivians are walking around in the same made in china crap most of the U.S is.)
We then meet our traveling companions for three days - two girls from Holland on vacation and an American who teaches in Cochabamba and set out in a quite cosy Jeep with the six of us and the guide, Edwin, packed in there. The salar (salt flats) is our first site, and is absolutely incredible, just as everyone says. We eat a picnic lunch and climb about on this cactus covered island for a bit before continuing on through the desolate landscape.
We get to our hostal type thing for the night and as we are unloading realize our sleeping bags are still at the office in Uyuni. Some level of miscommunication between ourselves and the driver. At this point I can only laugh, and wonder who I offended this horribly to have karma kicking my ass this royally. The other girls are awesome though, and we have a great dinner and stay up talking after dinner until the power turns off... the generator only runs for two hours each day. Mateo, being his ridiculous self, keeps asking them to speak "hollish" and wondering what "neanderthal," by which I think he meant netherlands, dances are like.
The next day is even colder, but we see a series of incredible colored lakes... all of the different minerals give each lake a different appearance.Other stops include the "army of rocks" which is this really eerie serie of gigantic peices of coral which somehow got deposited in the middle of a now-dry basin millions of years ago. Tonight we are at another salt hotel, but higher in altitude. Its too cold to sleep. Im grateful when the alarm rings at 5 am, because at least then we're in the car and body heat is mildly abating the peircing cold.
Our first stop and probably my favorite site was the geysers... so eerie at 6 am but really strangely beautiful as well. If you ever forget that the earth is a powerful force, theres nothing like boiling sulfur holes and jets of water shooting 60 ft in the air to remind you. We then went to the thermal hotsprings, which, once you siked yourself up enough to strip down in the icy air in order to get in, were absolutely divine. We all wanted to stay longer, but the Edwin insisted we start our 9 hr trek back to uyuni so that we arive before dark. we got our second flat tire, but this time the road was too sandy to use the jack, so the guide drives up on two rocks, and then bolsters the axle with more rocks in order to get the tire off. I wonder what the appropriate course of action is if our guide gets crushed by our jeep. But he's a pro, and we arrive in Uyuni safe and sound, say goodbye to our friends, buy bus tickets home for tomorrow night and check into a hostal for a nice hot shower.
We're all pretty exhausted but decide to go out for a little bit. We end up at a pub talking to a french boy and german girl, and so we're all communicating in our non-native tongue. one of the best parts of traveling is the amazimgly diverse and interesting people you are bound to meet. We're playing Cacho embarassingly poorly, and the bartender keeps stopping by our table to teach us new tricks. The bar is supposed to close at one, but the bartender didnt want to go home either and so taught us a new dice game - mentiroso, kind of like liar's dice but with only two dice. Since today is Uyuni's birthday, the festivities began at Midnight, and so we head out to the square to dance, because continually moving (and drinking) is the only way to keep your mind off of the frostbite that has probably consumed at least two toes.
The next morning we watch speeches and a parade, waiting for the supposed appearance of Evo Morales, who we never actually did see, and then head inside to watch the World Cup. Afterwards we have 2 hours before our bus comes to get dinner, which we figure should be plenty. Then we realize after we have already ordered, that our waitress is fairly drunk. In fact, Im quite sure 90% of the town was stumbling around drunk. At the table next to us, a 60 year old man is bellowing out love ballads, and some other sloppy man comes over to talk to us. He tells us he's a tour guide for the salar and has a tour leaving early tomorrow. Suddenly, Im very glad we paid a little bit more for our tour company, and avoided whatever drunk/hungover guides we might have had otherwise.
This is a horrifically long blog post, but you're about to get to the best part !
Our bus is supposed to leave at 8, and we've asked several times by 8 45 if it has showed up yet. We ask again and they tell us "oh, that bus is cancelled. theres another one tomorrow though!" again we scramble to find a bus that can get us out of this forsaken town tonight... there appears to be one left, but with no seats. The driver promises us a spot, but then 20 more "centrales" or people who just sit in the aisleway get on, and theres no way theres room for us. We scramble again and find another, and brace ourselves for a ten hour journey, sitting in an aiselway, on an already sketchy bus. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.
i get wedged in between more kids, but this time a group of cousins ages 6 to 13, who are all absolutely adorable and fascinated by our very presence. We have to sing them a round of "row row row your boat" in order to coax them into sleep. When we arrive in Oruro, they give me a little origami flower they made, and say goodbye using all the fun new english words (however unsuited to the context) they just learned. =)
Im out a camera, cell phone, and lots of warm clothes. But enriched by the beauty of Bolivia and warmth of friends. This could be equally the worst, and also the most enjoyable, trip I've ever been on.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
in this week of "vacation," Profe Hernan had planned to do some check ups on clay stoves which he had already installed in some houses and to possibily build another for a different family.
i thought sacabamba was rural until we traveled out to the actual "campo." thirty bumpy minutes by pick-up, seemingly straight up the mountain and we arrived at a small adobe building nestled in among the mountains. from here you could see other houses, but they looked practically unreachable by car, or even by burro. Much to my surprise, two of my students poked their heads out when we pulled up, excited by suprised to see me two, and making fun of my involuntary shivers. I was freezing cold, but trying hard not to show it as these 10 and 5 year old kids were gallavanting about in sandals. I asked them how they get to school each monday. "Caminamos. porsupuesto." probably a 2 hour walk, they have to be a school at 7, meaning they trek in the chilly darkness each monday starting at 5.
their house was two rooms, one for sleeping, and one for cooking. The entirity of the kitchen was coated in dark black soot and charred. I cant imagine what the inside of the mother's lungs look like. This is one of the benefit of the clay stove - relatively easy to make, with available materials minus the metal chimney. But it has huge health benefits, and more efficiently burns wood (which is key, because they kids and women are the ones tasked with finding/harvesting firewood here, and there is less and less of it each year). One snafu they've encountered is helping the women to adjust to this new form of cooking, after generations of just cooking on stones, it seems a little strange to have a stove. Teaching them the maintenence of their own clay kitchen is the most important, otherwise when it beccomes clogged with soot and such some women might revert to stones and use the stove simply as a shelf.
poverty has always been kind of abstract to me.
even in cochabamba, when you see beggers on the street, they have a few bolivianos in their cap. the families i saw today had enough potatoes (for that was pretty much their diet) for a week. i dont know what happens after that. I used to be a proponent of the theory that you dont need material possession, and that poor people can be happy with their culture and their lives full of other satisfaction. that type of poverty appears to be a dream for these people. and im starting to think its a dream we tell ourselves as well, so be dont have to handle the guilt of the immense inequalities in the world.
today it was very, very real.
i thought sacabamba was rural until we traveled out to the actual "campo." thirty bumpy minutes by pick-up, seemingly straight up the mountain and we arrived at a small adobe building nestled in among the mountains. from here you could see other houses, but they looked practically unreachable by car, or even by burro. Much to my surprise, two of my students poked their heads out when we pulled up, excited by suprised to see me two, and making fun of my involuntary shivers. I was freezing cold, but trying hard not to show it as these 10 and 5 year old kids were gallavanting about in sandals. I asked them how they get to school each monday. "Caminamos. porsupuesto." probably a 2 hour walk, they have to be a school at 7, meaning they trek in the chilly darkness each monday starting at 5.
their house was two rooms, one for sleeping, and one for cooking. The entirity of the kitchen was coated in dark black soot and charred. I cant imagine what the inside of the mother's lungs look like. This is one of the benefit of the clay stove - relatively easy to make, with available materials minus the metal chimney. But it has huge health benefits, and more efficiently burns wood (which is key, because they kids and women are the ones tasked with finding/harvesting firewood here, and there is less and less of it each year). One snafu they've encountered is helping the women to adjust to this new form of cooking, after generations of just cooking on stones, it seems a little strange to have a stove. Teaching them the maintenence of their own clay kitchen is the most important, otherwise when it beccomes clogged with soot and such some women might revert to stones and use the stove simply as a shelf.
poverty has always been kind of abstract to me.
even in cochabamba, when you see beggers on the street, they have a few bolivianos in their cap. the families i saw today had enough potatoes (for that was pretty much their diet) for a week. i dont know what happens after that. I used to be a proponent of the theory that you dont need material possession, and that poor people can be happy with their culture and their lives full of other satisfaction. that type of poverty appears to be a dream for these people. and im starting to think its a dream we tell ourselves as well, so be dont have to handle the guilt of the immense inequalities in the world.
today it was very, very real.
Friday, June 25, 2010
6.23
today I hiked up the mountain close to the school - incredible view of the entire town and the surrounding mountains. Passed a man carrying loads full of firewood on his back and suddenly felt incredibly guilty that hiking is fun for me and work for him.
by far the strangest holiday I have ever experienced - San Juan in Bolivia. All day long people kept asking me ¨Vas a quemar?¨ (are you going to burn?) for a dreaded moment I thought that this school full of catholics had discovered me as an athiest until someone finally explained to me that this is part of a custom here. They burn whatever, wherever, all night long. Its said to be the coldest night of the year here, and youre supposed to spend it raging all night long along with the fires. The questions of "isnt that dangerous?" seemed to be laughed at. They kept telling me that there was normally so much smoke that the next day it was hotter! I didnt believe until i saw the entire mountainside ( the very one which i had climbed earlier) engulfed in a series of fires.
6.22
The freedom to wander is really the best travel plan there is. We arrived in Sacabamaba on tuesday, as monday was another holiday of somesort. As I have no classes on tuesdays, I just sort of wander around. I went to my favorite little store to by chocolate milk and cookies (for 1 boliviano, p.s. im going to be 10 pounds heavier when I come back if I keep up this routine), and had the duena in a fit of laughter over my awful quechua pronunciations. I was wandering down to the greenhouses (which are about a 10 min walk from the school) in search of Profe Hernan, the Ag teacher, when I poked my head into the panderia. And there I stayed for the rest of the morning, chatting away and learning how to make bread in quantities large enough to feed a small army. There is something so beautiful about a practiced movement, no matter how simple it may be. For every one ball of dough I could somewhat adequately roll, Alyssia was rolling four - with both hands! I promised I´d come back to visit her soon... so she set aside a jar of our homemade strawberry jam just for my visits =P
Sunday, June 20, 2010
6.19
i have nothing super exciting so say. but im going to write anyway. thats the thing i always hated about blogs =P
i was so nervous for teaching my first class. im 19, and so are some of the kids im teaching. adding to that, i have no training whatsoever to be a teacher. also, its not like i have lots of magnificent books and resources to compensate. its me, the chalkboard, and 30 rather poorly behaved students.
i ate this lentil dish with meat that i didnt know was meat and was puking for an entire day. i guess im stuck as a vegetarian whether i want to be or not.
washed my flea ridden blankets in the river (actually more of a stream) with the other kids. great fun
still havent figured out a good time or place where i can skype in relative quiet or ease, but if you feel like , its relatively cheap to call my Bolivian cell from skyp 591 727 66 275 =)
also, for all those haters... eh hemmm t.horn and l.mohelman... id like to read your blog =P
i have nothing super exciting so say. but im going to write anyway. thats the thing i always hated about blogs =P
i was so nervous for teaching my first class. im 19, and so are some of the kids im teaching. adding to that, i have no training whatsoever to be a teacher. also, its not like i have lots of magnificent books and resources to compensate. its me, the chalkboard, and 30 rather poorly behaved students.
i ate this lentil dish with meat that i didnt know was meat and was puking for an entire day. i guess im stuck as a vegetarian whether i want to be or not.
washed my flea ridden blankets in the river (actually more of a stream) with the other kids. great fun
still havent figured out a good time or place where i can skype in relative quiet or ease, but if you feel like , its relatively cheap to call my Bolivian cell from skyp 591 727 66 275 =)
also, for all those haters... eh hemmm t.horn and l.mohelman... id like to read your blog =P
Friday, June 11, 2010
6.10
Just returned from al campo and the house that was feeling so strange only four days ago now feels like a wonderfully familiar safe haven.
it was a rather strange week, being that there were no classes monday or friday, and tuesday was "celebration of teachers" and wednesday was "celebration of parents" halfway through thursday they apparently decided that only half a day of classes was sufficient, and we went home early on thursday. It certainly is not what comes to mind when i picture a catholic school....
the kids are all absolutely fascinated by english. its so strange to me because it seems like such a hideous language. their favorite thing is to have their name translated into english, but much to their disappointment, its usually just the same name. as much as they are fascinated by it, they dont really seem motivated to learn it. Julie, the FSD intern who worked with Jesu Maria before me, ended up teaching english classes as her main project. after only three (very non-traditional days) i know i wont be able too. on the other hand, english seems to me one of the few useful skills i have, and if that is what they need most ill find some way to make it work. Bottom line: RESPECT to all the teachers out there. =) sorry if i was ever that much of a pain in the ass
Monday, June 7, 2010
6.4
its so weird waking up in a strange bed in a strange house. everyone had gone out to work or school by the time i work up at 9, so i crept awkwardly down the creaky strange stairs to eat a little breakfast of coffee and bread before tackling my first solo trufi experience. there are three main forms of public transport, taxis, and then micros (which are rickety old buses) and trufis (which are just normal cars more or less), but both of them (supposedly) have a set line which they follow. even if they are full though, they will still stop for you and squeeze you in (much to the displeasure of the other passengers).
i went to the FSD office, where i met up with julianne and daniel, and lillian (one of the other volunteers) and we all went to the CEPRUJEM "office" which is a church and small convent. Hard, but necessary to adjust to has been the idea of not really knowing what is going on. It comes with the very relaxed idea of time. There arent usually formal introductions with bolivian people... it more seems like you talk to them for a little while and if they decide that they like you and that you are worth their time then they ask for your name. and so we wandered around the convent, attended mass, and ate lunch with a bunch of people, having a jolly time, but i still have no idea who my supervisor is, or who ill be working with. Also, i discovered that monday and friday are some sort of holiday in Sacabamba (where i'm supposedly working) and so i only am supposed to come to work this week from tuesday to thursday =).after leaving Ceprujem i walked all over the city, not intentionally per se , but only partially lost, and discovered a fantastic little coffee place as well as went to an internet cafe. While i was there, someone stole two computers....OH bolivia.
Laura and her friends wanted to give me the best of bolivian welcomes, so we went bolichiando (barhopping) with some of the other interns before heading to pimiento, a discotec which doesnt open until midnight and doesnt close until everyone leaves.
interesting family dynamic - laura is 25 but has a curfew -which is very common here. even though we told mama carmen what time we would be back, she was awake/ woke up when we came back. everyone in the house seems to be very open and (whether voluntarily or not) shares everything with their parents.
its so weird waking up in a strange bed in a strange house. everyone had gone out to work or school by the time i work up at 9, so i crept awkwardly down the creaky strange stairs to eat a little breakfast of coffee and bread before tackling my first solo trufi experience. there are three main forms of public transport, taxis, and then micros (which are rickety old buses) and trufis (which are just normal cars more or less), but both of them (supposedly) have a set line which they follow. even if they are full though, they will still stop for you and squeeze you in (much to the displeasure of the other passengers).
i went to the FSD office, where i met up with julianne and daniel, and lillian (one of the other volunteers) and we all went to the CEPRUJEM "office" which is a church and small convent. Hard, but necessary to adjust to has been the idea of not really knowing what is going on. It comes with the very relaxed idea of time. There arent usually formal introductions with bolivian people... it more seems like you talk to them for a little while and if they decide that they like you and that you are worth their time then they ask for your name. and so we wandered around the convent, attended mass, and ate lunch with a bunch of people, having a jolly time, but i still have no idea who my supervisor is, or who ill be working with. Also, i discovered that monday and friday are some sort of holiday in Sacabamba (where i'm supposedly working) and so i only am supposed to come to work this week from tuesday to thursday =).after leaving Ceprujem i walked all over the city, not intentionally per se , but only partially lost, and discovered a fantastic little coffee place as well as went to an internet cafe. While i was there, someone stole two computers....OH bolivia.
Laura and her friends wanted to give me the best of bolivian welcomes, so we went bolichiando (barhopping) with some of the other interns before heading to pimiento, a discotec which doesnt open until midnight and doesnt close until everyone leaves.
interesting family dynamic - laura is 25 but has a curfew -which is very common here. even though we told mama carmen what time we would be back, she was awake/ woke up when we came back. everyone in the house seems to be very open and (whether voluntarily or not) shares everything with their parents.
6.3 went to this ecological park called Paurami to explore the hillside - beautiful view of the entire city. simple picnic lunch and played the "WAH!" game - throw back to gov school!
i am/was so worried about my host family. i dont speak well enough spanish to be able to hold up my end of an intelligent conversation, and i feel so awkward saying "que?, que" to every other sentence. My host mom is SO incredibly nice though. She absolutely LOVES honey (good choice mom =) and seems to be thrilled by the fact that im trying so hard to communicate, even if the majority of the time I'm failing. Nicholas, the adorable 10 year old, however, NEVER stops talking, and also doesnt hesitate to correct me when i mess up. however grammatically incorrect i am, he is happy to have someone to show his jardin to and to play games with. The oldest daughter, and nicholas's mom, is in Spain studying abroad, but the younger (25) , Laura had a bunch of friends over who loved making fun of my supposedly Mexican spanish.
We went out for a little to "tomar un cafe" which i was super excited for (Bolivian coffee is pretty incredible), but shortly after arriving to the bar discovered that this was apparently just something you tell your parents when you are going out to drink on a thursday night. =) Laura and friends taught me (el cacho) this incredibly complicated dice game. (and i thought the berube family had mastered all levels of complicated fun involving dice) i know my worries are for naught, and that this family is perfect for me! my only regret now is that i will only be able to spend weekends with them, as during the week ill be in el campo.
i am/was so worried about my host family. i dont speak well enough spanish to be able to hold up my end of an intelligent conversation, and i feel so awkward saying "que?, que" to every other sentence. My host mom is SO incredibly nice though. She absolutely LOVES honey (good choice mom =) and seems to be thrilled by the fact that im trying so hard to communicate, even if the majority of the time I'm failing. Nicholas, the adorable 10 year old, however, NEVER stops talking, and also doesnt hesitate to correct me when i mess up. however grammatically incorrect i am, he is happy to have someone to show his jardin to and to play games with. The oldest daughter, and nicholas's mom, is in Spain studying abroad, but the younger (25) , Laura had a bunch of friends over who loved making fun of my supposedly Mexican spanish.
We went out for a little to "tomar un cafe" which i was super excited for (Bolivian coffee is pretty incredible), but shortly after arriving to the bar discovered that this was apparently just something you tell your parents when you are going out to drink on a thursday night. =) Laura and friends taught me (el cacho) this incredibly complicated dice game. (and i thought the berube family had mastered all levels of complicated fun involving dice) i know my worries are for naught, and that this family is perfect for me! my only regret now is that i will only be able to spend weekends with them, as during the week ill be in el campo.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
i haven´t quite gotten a handle on the catchy blog title thing
El Cristo- 5.30
did you know that cochabamba has the largest statue of Jesus in the world? it used to be the one in Rio, which is much more famous, but in 2004 Cochabamba built a bigger one =P
Today we woke up much refreshed to a light breakfast. much to my relief, they had plenty of coffee =) here it is brewed super super strong and kept cold, and then you add warm milk to suit.We then travled to the east of the city to see el Cristo, and to learn a bit about the history of the city. Maurico, a native Cochabambino and the program director for fsd, explained some of the complexities of life in Bolivia, and the many contradictions which prevail.
From there we traveled to La cancha, thought to be the largest market in the world. Picture thousands of people and millions of goods packed to the brim, with every sort of disgusting and delicious smell you could imagine. We were noticeable outsiders walking through the narrow hallways and often people would ask where we were from. Favorite part - the displays of skirts (polleras) and ornate blouses which are worn by cholitas, or women of indigenous ancestory who live in the city. These skirts vary in type but some are so fabulously oranate and beautiful that I'm suprised some Italian fashion designer hasnt coopted them into their spring line. Of course, they are somewhat tempered by the bowler hat precariously balanced atop a braided head which normally completes the outfit.
We then feasted on our first true Bolivian lunch. Almuerzo is the main meal of the day, and usually consists of soup first, and then a full second course. Lucas and I (who were on the same flight) had both lost our luggage, and so returned to the airport with Daniel, another member of the fsd site team, to retrieve it. turns out it wasnt actually there yet, although they had called us to say that it was, and while waiting we talked about Coca. what else? coca has such an important cultural history here, and they always say "coca no es cocaina." Bolivia produces cocaine, but they arent the people who use it. Daniel had very strong opinions on this, as im sure do many people, and it will be interesting to see the different perspectives as i go along.
* embarrasing, yet mildly hilarious sidenote. the adjustment to the altitude has not gone well for me, and i've had a wicked headache since i arrived. Knowing that coca is used to alleviate altitude sickness, i proceeded to chew some yesterday. Little did i know that you arent supposed to swallow it..... I then discovered another use for coca - it can be used to quickly and highly effectively induce vomiting* i have so much to learn =P
A perfect end to the day, i went to a soccer game between two of the different departamentos (states) in Bolivia. not having a particular preference, we aligned with Aurura, the home team, and cheered and cursed them into victory =) Bolivians are intense about their futbol, to the point that riot police have to protect the players during the game, and the referees after. i also learned various bad words which seem to only be appropriate when slung at the opposing team or the refs.
did you know that cochabamba has the largest statue of Jesus in the world? it used to be the one in Rio, which is much more famous, but in 2004 Cochabamba built a bigger one =P
Today we woke up much refreshed to a light breakfast. much to my relief, they had plenty of coffee =) here it is brewed super super strong and kept cold, and then you add warm milk to suit.We then travled to the east of the city to see el Cristo, and to learn a bit about the history of the city. Maurico, a native Cochabambino and the program director for fsd, explained some of the complexities of life in Bolivia, and the many contradictions which prevail.
From there we traveled to La cancha, thought to be the largest market in the world. Picture thousands of people and millions of goods packed to the brim, with every sort of disgusting and delicious smell you could imagine. We were noticeable outsiders walking through the narrow hallways and often people would ask where we were from. Favorite part - the displays of skirts (polleras) and ornate blouses which are worn by cholitas, or women of indigenous ancestory who live in the city. These skirts vary in type but some are so fabulously oranate and beautiful that I'm suprised some Italian fashion designer hasnt coopted them into their spring line. Of course, they are somewhat tempered by the bowler hat precariously balanced atop a braided head which normally completes the outfit.
We then feasted on our first true Bolivian lunch. Almuerzo is the main meal of the day, and usually consists of soup first, and then a full second course. Lucas and I (who were on the same flight) had both lost our luggage, and so returned to the airport with Daniel, another member of the fsd site team, to retrieve it. turns out it wasnt actually there yet, although they had called us to say that it was, and while waiting we talked about Coca. what else? coca has such an important cultural history here, and they always say "coca no es cocaina." Bolivia produces cocaine, but they arent the people who use it. Daniel had very strong opinions on this, as im sure do many people, and it will be interesting to see the different perspectives as i go along.
* embarrasing, yet mildly hilarious sidenote. the adjustment to the altitude has not gone well for me, and i've had a wicked headache since i arrived. Knowing that coca is used to alleviate altitude sickness, i proceeded to chew some yesterday. Little did i know that you arent supposed to swallow it..... I then discovered another use for coca - it can be used to quickly and highly effectively induce vomiting* i have so much to learn =P
A perfect end to the day, i went to a soccer game between two of the different departamentos (states) in Bolivia. not having a particular preference, we aligned with Aurura, the home team, and cheered and cursed them into victory =) Bolivians are intense about their futbol, to the point that riot police have to protect the players during the game, and the referees after. i also learned various bad words which seem to only be appropriate when slung at the opposing team or the refs.
Monday, May 24, 2010
CEPRUJEM
I have no idea what I'll be doing in Bolivia.
=)
I leave this Friday to begin an internship in Cochabamba for the summer. I have a homestay for the weekends, and will be staying with other employees and interns in dormitories when we travel to different villages during the week.
I at least know that I'll be working with a non-profit called CEPRUJEM, which is a rural development organization with a focus in youth education and health in Cochabamba—specifically in the Anzaldo and Sacabamba Municipalities. According to the information provided to me, its main focus is "to create a model of development that other regions of Bolivia can use – a model integrating primary and secondary education and schools, public health, community social support services, agriculture development and the maintenance of greenhouses where organic produce is cultivated."
What that means on a day-to-day level? I guess we'll find out....
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