I`ve been reminiscing of pumpkins and fall leaves and hearing about old friends enjoying the fall weather. It makes me miss home to a certain extent, but when I pull myself away from looking at pictures and step out into the microwave rays of sun on the street, I think to myself but I am in BOLIVIA. When I believe that I am not dreaming, I get a small chill and do a little jig and smile sometimes laughing within myself. One of the main reasons I wanted to be in the Peace Corps was to challenge and build a new world view. It is this discovery that I enjoy. Discovery can be hard, but it is reality. I am stealing some thoughts from some volunteers in The Gambia. ¨I may have dropped my dreamer-optimistic outlook but I`ve gained a more realistic one` and another one ¨I start slow and then rewind¨ So true.
Most of the world doesn`t understand hay-bale rides, or the joy that we feel walking through creeks lined with the brilliance of fall leaves, but then again I don`t understand the joy they get when parading the streets with pride or owning a herd of healthy llamas. And I don`t have to, but I can empathize that culture can define a person`s values and I can at least try to watch someone else`s joy and perhaps have it rub off on me a bit. At least when I am sitting around a feast with people I love that is over-flowing with turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, grandma`s rolls, fruit salad, and pumpkin pie the tingling cultural joy I feel will be just a little deeper knowing that it is a cultured joy…something I was taught and something that was nurtured.
Today is `Todos Santos` here in Bolivia or All Saints Day, well I think technically it was yesterday AND today, but let alone another holiday which means offices are closed and the streets are quiet and it is more relaxing time for me. That translates to getting lost between my email, trying to write this blog, posting pictures, checking up on everyone else and their lives, and being swept away on tangential internet exploring before catching up on Grey´s Anatomy season three. Ok, so after saying that I am not too proud that I value technology and TV shows as my down-time. But that is something I`ve been learning about myself, things I`m not too proud of but I do anyways. I am not as patient as I thought and I am not as tolerant as I thought of certain things but then again it is all a learning experience, right? Anyways, back on topic, Bolivians were busy baking breads in various forms for souls of family members that have passed away, decorating graves, and doing other cultural traditions. I would have loved to be in my site to share, but…that is a long story. The point is I am not, but plan on going to take some pictures at the cemetery anyways later.
I did hike up the mountain today and learned, well reminded myself, as always I live at 12,000ft. My breath goes short, my legs ache, my chest stretches its flexibility in and out, and my head pounds with the rhythm of the machine that pumps oxygen to my limbs…all within the first 10 steps up. And then it gets easier and I work up a pattern and my head clears up and my legs comply and I ignore the dead dogs and trash piles as we clamber up the rocks, trying to avoid the spiny `paja` grass that stings if I stub my exposed toes. My chaco soles try to grip the rocks, but occasionally will slide on the loose gravel keeping it interesting. At the top, the wind howls as it forms a wind tornado and sweeps the dirt upward in a tunnel. Across the plain, we see 5 wind tornadoes sweeping their way along the barren ground. How, however, is there a plowed field amidst the rock-outcroppings at the summit of the hill? Questions. I carry a rock in my hand to threaten the dogs threatening us, gripping it with my swollen hands from the altitude and remembering I forgot sun-screen on my feet. The z-stripped infamous `chaco tan` is darker than ever.
Last weekend I finally gave-in and took out an enormous wad of cash two days in a row to buy my bike!!! Amidst the small stress of doing things the bolivian way (transporting it on top of mini-van taxis, under buses, and riding it while carrying my travelling bags and goodies from the super-market, and answering questions about how much it cost from friends from my community) the first time I got on it and rode around Oruro I felt more like myself than I had felt since being in Bolivia. It was a weird feeling, I didn`t realize that riding a bike defined who I was so much, but it does. I felt free and in control and in love. In love with transportation that is healthier, cleaner, and faster (don`t sue me Wildcat Wheels for stealing your motto). So begins my exploration of Bolivia on two wheels.
Amidst my bike shopping adventures I got to hang-out with some old friends from Kentucky and enjoy playing in the mountains. Sledding on glaciers never felt better.
Well, to make a long story short I am stuck in between homes and waiting around for various responsibilities in Cochabamba that I didn`t know I had to do and so that is the excuse I have for having time to sit and write…and why I don`t know what my life will entail from day to day because it is always changing. So from adventure to adventure I hope you are appreciating your own…love from down south.
OK, I`ve even put up a few new pictures and am trying out a difference web-site. Hopefully this is easier to access (?). If it is in Spanish, click on ¨Ver como Presentacion¨ to see them in a slide-show, but it will be without comments. Not much, but something.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/16952202@N06/sets/72157602857027276/detail/
3 comments:
i like your pictures. who is that baby? your friend is strong! the mountain climbing is dangerous but maybe you should do it. but i dont want you to die. hey im confused as to what season it is. sometimes i see you in snow and other times in chacos. que pasa calabaza? speaking of calabazas, do they have them in bolivia? I just ate sweet potatoes and corn bread for day of the dead, imagine!!!
the new pic website is 100 times better.....woohoo. nice mustard and ketchup too. Thanks for the blog entry, very beautiful, and i loved the part about cherishing cultural things...good for me to remember as i'm working everyday with people who have lost their cultures....much love.
let me leave another comment to tell you that everytime i feel sad about not being in my culture i try to remember that it was something i learned and i can try to learn to love this culture, too, in the same way, and that makes me feel better. you are my inspiration.
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