Last Farewell

This will be my last post in Bolivia. I will try to post when I'm home to sum it all up. I don't know how I'll sum it up. It's hard for me to think that a year ago I was in China. So much has happened since than I don't remember it all.

I suppose it's high time I talk about public transportation which has given me wonderfully horrifying stories in the previous countries. Sadly, Bolivian transportation involves no livestock, no vehicles that will fall apart at a moments notice, and no strange hand signals indicating what part of the city you want to go to. There are three forms of city public transportation: micros (mini buses essentially), trufis (the ghanaian tro tro, just not as run down but certainly not new), and taxis, both line taxis that run a route and drop taxis that take you wherever you wish. The Bolivians have taken out the guess work of catching one of these means of transportation by wisely posting numbers and/or signs on the vehicle indicating it's route. This was much easier than in Ghana where you would either have to yell where you were going or use some crazy hand signals then wait for a taxi or tro tro to stop. The driving, although not conventionally safe doesn't keep me on the edge of my seat. Then again, I don't know if much could at this point. But traffic hear is rather tame all in all. There is, however, one quirk. In Ghana, many of the cars were imported from germany, imported being a generous word. In Bolivia, Japan supplies many of the cars here. This causes a problem because the Japanese drive on the left side of the road with the steering wheel on the right whereas Bolivians drive on the right. To adapt these japanese cars to Bolivian road rules, it is not uncommon to see a taxi with the big gap on the passenger side where the steering once was and no fixed to the left side of the car. The readouts are, of course, still on the right side.

As for my living arrangements, I stay with a lovely old woman who just became a grandmother. The house is small and quiet. She works for a hotel, far more hours than for someone her age. She is a very warm and gracious host. However, she is one of the most racist people I've ever met, but it comes across is that nice old woman sort of way... if that's at all possible. She uses the 'n' word freely and seems to have no trouble with how derogatory it is. I thought that she was possibly unaware. However, she lived in the Houston at the height of the civil rights movement and is very knowledgeable about what is PC and what is not. She also frequently blames all the troubles in the country on the natives and said that if the US government were to come and get rid of all the indigenous people, she would have no problems with it. Afterwards she gently scolds herself because she knows it's not the "right" thing to say. I find it quite funny that my roommate is a hardline liberal/vegan/hippie going to law school. She doesn't tolerate the racism so well. I let it pass, not much else I can do.

Last weekend was a holiday called San Juan (day?). Basically everyone lights off fireworks and bbqs hot dogs. Sounds familiar... Thier fireworks put out 4th of July fireworks to shame though. It wasn't quite on the scale of in India during Diwalli. And the fireworks seem better manufactured and more stable unlike some of the indian fireworks which seemed little more than a wad of gunpowder wrapped in string or cardboard with inconsistent fuses. The fireworks here in Bolivia are just MASSIVE. They have plenty of the nice fountains and cones and other small ground sparklers, but they also had roman candles and rockets. We have roman candles at home at well, often 10-15 balls per candle around a foot and a half in length. The roman candles here came up to my chin and I have no idea how many balls it fires. The rockets were attached to a dowel of equal length. They reminded me of a steroid abusing pop-bottle rocket. I doubt these could be launched out of a pop bottle. The next morning I awoke to a hazy sky and a faint smell of burned gunpowder in the air. Apparently, last year it was so bad that planes had to be grounded until well into the afternoon when visibility was good enough to take off.

Bolivian food isn't quite what I expected it to be. I foolishly thought most latino food was similar, so I basically expected a variation fo mexican food. Let's just say Bolivian cuisine isn't one of the strong points of the country. That's not to say the food is bad, just more or less bland. Which took me by surprised considering how much seasonings, spices and hervs are available. They do have some spicy sauce, but it always comes on the side. The traditional cochabamban meal is either beef patty or chicken leg with fries and rice. Bolivians may not consume a lot of spices, but they make up for it by gorging themselves on meat. I went to dinner the other day with some of the interns from the hospitals to a Churasquieria (i don't know what is means). Everyone was getting Churasco (the standard meal people get at a churasquieria), so I joined the bandwagon. There were seven of us and we got four orders of churasco. Basically, churasco is beef, lots and lots of beef. They plopped down a thick wooden cutting board in front of me with three large steaks and a small side of fries. Needless to say, I was unable to finish my steaks. It didn't help that I was having a rough battle with some bacteria in my stomach at the time. No worries. I eventually won.

That's all for now. Nothing else too exciting. I'll probably spend my last weekend buying souveniers and spending time with patty and her family. I look forward to seeing everyone when I return.

Riots and Protests and Demonstrations! Oh My!

This post is long overdue, I realize. I just haven't had much of anything to post about lately. That's not to say I've been bored, I've just had so many good stories in the past that my standards for literary material are a wee bit high. Also, in my last post I mixed up east and west in Bolivia. West: jungles, East: mountains.

Bolivia is a very... active place, especially among the youth. I'm not just talking about the pint sized mugging glue sniffers, but the university students like to be quite active themselves. Riots and demonstrations are no oddity here in Cochabamba. Last week the university students rioted because they were unhappy with the newly elected president of the school, there are roughly around 40-45 thousand students (I think). They damaged many of the buildings on campus, and in the surrounding area (small business owners who have no involvement whatsoever with the university goings on). There were many injuries and even a death. I fortunately was at work, unaware and didn't learn of the troubles till watching the news at lunch. The interns who I dine with daily seemed unconcerned and unsurprised, because it seems to be a frequent occurance. Why is it that university students are always the instigators in riots, demonstrations and protests?

In other news, I've spent the last two weekends in Cochabamba, for several reasons. First off, my roommate went traveling to peru a week ago and has clearly not been available for short weekends trips around the country. Secondly, I really don't know any other volunteers. I'm not too sure why I don't have the motivation to socialize with the other volunteers unlike in most countries. There aren't too many TPA organized events where I could meet and greet other volunteers and my cell phone doesn't work here, making it difficult to stay in contact with anyone. I've become quite close with an intern at the hospital, Patty (the lone english speaker at my hospital), and have spent most of my time with her and her friends and other interns. I think I enjoy making more local friends than I have in any of the other countries. I think I may also have just had my fill of 18 year old british girls. Fortunately, the cultural barrier isn't as pronounced between my bolivian friends and me as it was in the other countries. Then again, the language barrier is staggeringly large. But we still manage to laugh and joke and have a good time. Last weekend Patty invited me to attend her church and go to lunch with her family. Once again, the language barrier never ceases to be a problem, but I still muddle through and end up enjoying myself along the way. I even went to see Shrek three the other night, in Spanish, and still managed to understand the gist of things and get many of the jokes.

I've found a quality in myself that has become far more pronounced since starting my travels (partially out of necessity). I am incredibly adaptable. This spans from being able to eat most any food (even things that I don't like, which I haven encountered occasionally) to picking up habits and methods specific to the country where I am. Perhaps I want to be viewed as local and not stand out because of my western behaviors. In some countries I have had little choice but to stand out, but here in bolivia, I blend in quite nicely... that is until I open my mouth to speak spanish.

I don't have much else to write. Work goes well enough. I spend most of my time in pediactrics listening to breathing and heart beats and stomach parasites. Sometimes it can be slow, but I'm no stranger to that. My hospital is slightly removed from the city, so we serve many of the indigenous people in the area. One of the problems with natives is that many of them don't speak spanish, but speak some blend of native tongue and spanish. This can cause some communication problems for the interns that don't know this language. Another problem is that they don't like to wash much, or at all. The room can be pretty pungent when the windows are closed. It's even more nose-wrinkling than in India, and that says a lot. Anyway, that's all for now. I'll update at least once more while I'm here and maybe once when I get home to sum it all up in thoughtful reflection. I hope all is well at the homestead.

Che vs. Mickey or The Escape from Monkey Island

Sorry for the odd title. It's a bit of a throwback to the Rocky and Bullwinkle show. Which, by the way, I never really liked when I was little, but my brother always wanted to watch it. Who knows?

So of the few common denominators in all the countries I've been to, the most interesting are the icons that cross cultures and oceans to become a commonplace everywhere. Of these, the two most recurrent images I've seen depicted are Mickey Mouse (in various forms) and Che Guevara. While there's no mistaking Che (it's always the same picture) Mickey comes in so many shapes sizes and colors it's sometimes difficult to recognize that it is even Mickey at all, but upon close inspection, the he shows his true colors. While I think most people know the symbolism of Mickey Mouse (if there is much symbolism), I think you'd be hard pressed to find a Ghanaian that knows who the man is on their shirt. It's understandable that Che appears in Bolivia with that whole latin america connection, but in China, India and Ghana? I also don't know what's more interesting (or scary), that Mickey is as recognizable as Che or visa versa. While I love the animals, the food, the public transport systems and the methods of dress, it's the little things like this that make other countries so much fun.

Last weekend I left the hills of Cochabamba for the jungles of Chapare in western Bolivia, where the mountains flatten and opens into an expanse of jungle that turns into the Amazon basin. We stayed in a not so quiet little town of Villa Tunari, which is much like a glorified truck stop. I say not so quiet because, although it was tiny, there was a brass band that had gathered for some celebration. At first, I thought it was an old man band. You know where there talent is betrayed by the lack of dexterity due to old age. But then I realized they weren't good enough for that. I'd say more like a high school band... a really miserable high school band, playing really awful music. Every once in awhile someone in the back would hold up a roman candle and let the fireballs fly (for dramatic effect?). The small party seemed not to notice or care that the band was horrid and proceeded to dance about. I don't know if I'd call it dancing, more like drunken stumbling around, but they weren't drunk. And they all seemed synchronized, like it was a rehearsed dance. Certainly a good laugh for the first ten minutes, but then it dragged on a bit longer than I would have liked.

The next day we headed to the nearby national park for a good hike. The park was also loaded with monkey; friendly, meddlesome, kleptomaniacal monkeys. Fortunately, they have lockers to store your bags and other valuables you're afraid will be filched if left unguarded. Ok ok, so the title is misleading, it wasn't an island, but monkey island sounds way more exciting than monkey park. Anyway, you don't have to go far into the jungle before you start seeing the monkeys. They have no fear of people or cameras whatsoever. This was made clearly apparent to me when a monkey came over and grappled with my leg for a minute or two before climbing up my body, checking every pocket she passed, to rest gently on my neck while she picked through my hair. She was also a jealous monkey because whenever my friend, Alyssa, came close trying to take a photo, the monkey would lunge out and grab her arm and try to take the camera. It was quite an entertaining spectacle. She stayed there for quite awhile before we started moving down the trail to another area.

The jungle was hot and humid, but since it's winter here the mosquitos are few, fortunately. We saw many many more monkeys along the way, red and green macaws, beautiful butterflies and some amazing ant colonies. The trail led up the hillside for a great panorama then to some meager but tranquil waterfalls. I imagine that during the wet season it's far more dramatic. After the hike we had some lunch in a quaint restaurant where a kitten became very friendly with my lap and my lunch. We had dinner at the same restaurant where another kitten, probably of the same litter, took a little nap on my lap (but had no interest in my food, which was a nice surprise). It was strange because on both occasions there were other people in the restaurant, but the cats came straight to me. This prompted Alyssa to call me Dr. Doolittle and say that maybe I should go into veteranery medicine instead.

Other than the parks, there was very little to do in the town. It wasn't even a relaxing getaway because the highway ran straight through the town where there was a steady stream of bus and truck traffic. The next day we ventured to a nearby 'Orquidario', which was apparently an orchard, in a way, but also had orchids so I don't know what the translation is. There were also a couple of crocodiles and turtles in a small pen. I don't know why, but it was still interesting. We then hopped on the bus and had a beautiful ride back through the mountains to Cochabamba.

As for things here in Cochabamba. Things are moving along well. I'm becoming good friends with the interns at the hospital, despite the immense language barrier. We went out to dinner last night, then to coffee where we played cards and just had a general good time laughing. I wish I could stay longer and spend more time with them. I'll just have to make the most of it. Hopefully I'll be able to have a whole conversatoin with them before I leave.... haha, who am I kidding? I can't learn spanish that fast.

As an aside, the big news lately is that the Harlem Globetrotters are coming to Bolivia. Nice to see that they're living up to their name, but I find it strange since Bolivia isn't a big market for basketball. Oh well. Take care all.

Now I remember why I wanted to take Spanish in College...

I'm in Bolivia. Finally. My flight from Miami was delayed and I missed my connection from La Paz to Cochabamba. I bused it instead, which was actually a pleasant seven hour trip. For those that don't know, La Paz is the highest capital in the world, somewhere around 14,000 feet I think. The city is amazing. It's built in a bowl shape. Most of the buildings are made of stone and seem to grow out of mountainside as part of the mountain. I would not have seen so much of the city had I made my connecting flight.

As for Cochabamba, it's the most modern place I've been to since China. I said a silent prayer when I noticed that sewage was below ground (not everywhere of course, but at least in the major cities). There are plenty of fast internet connections, multicultural restaurants and easy public transportation. I only have one problem: I don't speak a lick of spanish and you'd be hard pressed to find an english speaker. This makes work quite a challenge. I fortunately found an intern that speaks english so I usually follow her around most of the day. While I'm sure I would have plenty of hands on experience if I spoke the language, the barrier is more inhibitory than I would like. Fortunately I'm taking spanish lessons and picking up the language rather quickly. While I can't speak much, I can understand quite a bit. Surprisingly so. Aside from the language barrier, Bolivia is a lovely and colorful place. Apparently it is 80% indigenous. So you see many women with the colorful panchos, poofed out skirts and bowler hats, or a wide brimmed straw hat. I live just a block down from the soccer stadium which makes for some loud and enjoyable evenings. Another source of excitement are the ¨cleferos ¨ or glue sniffers. These are apparently glue sniffing teenagers that group mug people. I haven't run into them yet, but partially hope that I do. Things like that make great stories!

A month to volunteer in a country is far too short. I feel so strapped for time and I've only been here a week. I was feeling a little morose when I left because for once in a very long time, I wanted to be home; to be around friends and family and comforting things I know. When I left I thought of the poem by Davy Crockett

Farewell to the mountains, whose mazes to me
Are more beautiful far than Eden could be.
The home I redeemed from the savage and wild.
The home I have loved as a father his child.
The wife of my bosom, Farewell to ye all.
In the land of the stranger, I rise or I fall.

It's a strangely wonderful feeling to miss home this much and to know that I'll find contentment there, which isn't something I could have said a year ago. Fortunately, Bolivia has ample amounts of charm to keep me satisfied and excited and my time is so restrained that I won't have the opportunity to get homesick. Heh, ironic that now, finally, in my last month of travels, I finally miss home. Farewell all. Take care and I'll be seeing you all soon.