Being a Stranger

It’s December 12 and I’m sitting outside in a tank-top, no shoes on, listening to Christmas music for the first time this year desperately trying to get myself in the mood. In my own experience what makes me love the end of the calendar year is all the family traditions we have and the opportunity to spend so much time together. Being located in a different place this year makes it, well, a completely different experience. In terms of the atmosphere, there are lights up in two of the big plazas in the city and I see out-of-place snow-flake and snow-man decorations on one side of a store window that on the other side has a woman selling ice cream to a sweating passersby. However the smells, the sounds and the feeling in the air does not communicate the normal indicators that Hanukah, Christmas and New Years are upon us (Happy Hanukah by the way, I realize it’s over now, but a belated cheers).

I am reminded what sense-oriented beings we are and how much I count on physical senses to direct or reflect my inner senses. Probably why it didn’t matter to me that we used every dish we own on Thanksgiving day, thereby calling for over an hour of dishwashing, and burned our only candles and dirtied our only table cloth—the point was that we were celebrating and making it special to reincarnate what Thanksgiving is normally like. I have a much stronger appreciation for immigrants in the United States who go all out for their traditional festivities. From a distance, one might say, “Why are you spending so much money and energy on all that food or clothing or decorations, when you don’t have enough money for _________???” But you know what? When every day you walk around amidst a people that doesn’t speak your native tounge, that knows the unwritten rules of the codes of communication and culture that you are desperately trying to unlock, that has some shared but many different historical values, that stares at you because you look so different…it’s just nice to have a little taste of familiar every once in a while, and celebrate who you are and where you come from. I get it.

One of the gifts of being an outsider is that I get the opportunity to experience not being offered hospitality and the contrary of receiving it and being welcomed in to other people’s homes and lives. Even though I left my host-family 6 months ago, they still continue to be a source of love for me. The grandmother of the family is in her late eighties and probably less than a 100 lbs because she’s been ill for several months. My host mom was having a really hard time managing who in the family was going to take care of her when, who was going to make her food, take her to the doctors etc. Having gone through a similar situation in my own family, I offered to come spend time with her during the week and my host-mom eventually took me up on that.

So, for the past couple months I go over every Thursday morning and hang out with Abuelita (grandma). I’m happy to say that she is doing so much better! I really thought it was the end, but she’s come back. She reminds me of my own grandpa in several ways, which is all the more reason why I like to go. (Speaking of him, he just turned 93 on Friday and I think he deserves a special Birthday recognition, Happy Birthday Grandpa!) I went several hours later than usual last week because I was working on planting and caring for our compost piles in the morning before the real heat started, and of course, she told me she thought I wasn’t coming and was just wondering whatever could have happened to me?

On Thursday one of her granddaughters turned 15, which is a big deal here. They had a small party at the house, which was very lovely. While the candles were on the cake, Abuelita got a chance to say a prayer for her granddaughter. She started crying while asking God to protect her granddaughter and her friends, to guide them and to love them…it made ME cry because how absolutely strong and real her love was for her family. The tone of her voice just soaked the air with her love and blessing.

Even though it was so late at night and 10 seconds before I was wishing I could be in my bed resting my sleep-deprived eyes, I felt so fortunate to be able to witness this and forgot about my physical needs. My former host mom sent me home with two delicious pieces of beautiful cake she slaved over and my former host sister insisted on driving me the half-hour ride home. I’m not giving them money anymore to live with them, they’re not obligated to care for me anymore, and yet they continue including me in their family, and I couldn’t be more humbled and honored.

I guess a lesson for me in this particular situation is that it really does make a difference to welcome the stranger, include the outsiders. I hope that I can do the same in my lifetime.

Before ending this entry, I’d like to share a little about a backpacking trip I took a month ago in the mountains outside La Paz along the pre-Incan/Incan trail called the Choro Trail.

 

I traveled with friends who are an American couple I met in language school and a Canadian we met along with way. From what we figure, we walked about 65 km, which is 40 miles, descending from an altitude of 16,300 down to 4,200, so about 12,000 ft (or 2.3 miles) drop in 2 days and a morning. It was so incredible to witness the drastic changes in geography, climate, vegetation, and animals, made much more noticeable because we were walking and not flying down the curvy mountain roads on a truck. Needless to say, I loved it.

 

 

The second night we camped on the property of this older Japanese gentleman who came to Bolivia around the time of WWII and says he hasn’t left the Yungas to go up to the city of La Paz in over 30 years. If you saw his view he wakes up to every morning, you could better understand why he wouldn’t need to. It was by far the prettiest place I’ve ever camped.

 

Whenever I stopped along the trail to take a water break or rest my feet, I was struck by how many new beautiful little plants I was surrounded by, which I hadn’t been noticing while walking along…another reminder to me that it’s not all about arriving at a destination, but also the journey or path getting there that brings so much richness to daily life. I wish I could have recorded the sound that this squeaky “carpet” of little green fern-like plants covering the ground made when I walked on it looking for a rock to serve as my restroom stall. I’ve never heard a sound like it before or felt anything like it beneath my feet. I was like a little toddler giddily discovering the novelty of walking on wet sand for the first time.

 

 

 

I hope that wherever in the world you find yourself today, you are safe and well and happy. I wish you a wonderful week and many opportunities to welcome strangers…we really appreciate it!

5 things I’m thankful for today: the first piece of toast for breakfast that I’ve had in Bolivia that I got to have this morning; skyping with my relatives at their 40+ person Thanksgiving gathering—I loved every busy moment of it; watching a movie on a couch last night (I miss couches); a really relaxed fun group dinner effort with friends; Zorro, the sweetest dog I am dog-sitting for.
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Gump said it best

Every day I find the wisdom of Forrest Gump to be truer and truer. Life really is “like a box of chocolates, because you never know what you’re gonna get”. I woke up this morning rushing around to catch a bus to go up to La Paz where I have been planning to meet some friends in order to go hike the Choro Trail in the Yungas for a few days, but here I am writing to you all instead. Turns out there is a bicycle race or something like that so no buses are allowed to travel til later this evening. I love cycling so at least it’s that and not another road blockade and strike, but still! You just never know what you’re going to get.

While those of you in the northern hemisphere are experiencing rain, wind and cold weather, I thought I might share some pictures with you of something you can look forward to doing when spring comes—fly a kite! Back at the end of August (winter here and usually windy but climate changes are changing that norm) the kids at San Carlos made their own kites and then competed with other after-school-program groups one Saturday at the man-made lake in Cochabamba, Laguna Alalay. I was impressed by some of their creativity and how they could make really great kites out of plastic bags for example!

 

 

In September Bolivia celebrated its 200th anniversary as a free nation and San Carlos had a little festival/fair one afternoon where each of the 6 centers had a booth with a different theme, such as typical fiestas and the customs, food, history etc. The kids did a good job although if the preparation was like any other event I’ve been a part of, the teachers did a LOT of the work for the kids. It’s quite fascinating how much PRESENTATION is valued over allowing a kid to make something to the best of her/his own ability and imagination. I’ve never been more appreciative of the methodology of my liberal arts education which encouraged critical thinking and making mistakes, than I am now.

 

As part of my efforts to learn as much as I can about ways to garden, make good use of resources and have a better relationship with the environment, I went to visit a really interesting French man who has been living in the valley south of the city of Cochabamba for more than 30 years, and is a civil engineer, a natural doctor and a very passionate member of the human family.

 

On the 45 min. drive out to visit him, I found myself feeling more and more relaxed and “at-home” being out away from the city and passing fields, beautiful old eucalyptus trees and the water (man-made dam, but it’s still water!). We walked for another half hour at least to get to his house, which he built himself. He also built a well and an irrigation system, which are proving to be more and more necessary as we’re faced with drought. If you doubt that the climate is changing, just come visit me and talk with just about anybody here. Everyone tells me that the weather didn’t used to be like “this” and it’s really changed a lot in the past 10 to 20 years especially.

 

I loved learning about his different plants and his bees. There were even peach trees, olive trees, tons of prickly pear cactus, and agave plants. Really a fascinating fellow and he’s also vegetarian…slowly but surely I’m encountering more and more. One of my favorite moments: while walking around in the hot hot sun to look at his plants and vast land, he broke off a piece of a cactus and took a bite out of it, prompting me to then do the same. I couldn’t say no, so I did and it had a very interesting flavor and texture. It was a mix between celery, apple and lettuce. There’s a first for everything.

Speaking of firsts, last month I helped my friend Renee install our first garden with an after-school-program group of 30 very energetic kids. We used the compost we started with them about three months prior (I have pictures of that in another blog entry) to mix in with the dirt that would make up the garden. Oh my gosh, were they excited! We planted about 16 different crops including tomatoes, squash, zucchini, parsley, carrots, chard, and radishes. Just the other day I went by to check it out and overall things are coming along. It’s really wonderful because it’s serving as a model and now there are families requesting that Renee help them install their own gardens, which we’re doing in tires (with the middle part cut out to make more surface space).

 

Even though I love the composting, gardening and many of the other various things I find myself doing each day, it’s not always a “happy adventure”. In fact, it’s quite challenging, lonely, and difficult many days of the week. A former missioner recently wrote that the first year is the hardest and I breathed a sigh of relief for the affirmation. I hope communication gets easier. I hope I make friends, real friends, the kind who “get” me and I “get” them. I hope I come to understand people more. I hope I learn how to balance. So, while I tend to pick the more entertaining stories and highlights to share with you all, I hope you don’t think I’m living some sort of ideal dreamy sort of life. It’s probably a lot like yours, with a mix of wonderful uplifting moments and really difficult ones too.

Whenever we get a little overwhelmed and in need of a time to refuel, we tend to separate ourselves from our normal environment and take a “vacation” (at least if we’re smart!) so I took a mini vacation to a place in the south of Bolivia called Tarija. Thanks to those wonderful Franciscan monks, wine-making grapes came into the Tarija region centuries ago and enabled me to enjoy some very tasty wine and lovely views of the grape-covered valley.

My roommate and I went to visit a lovely sister from England whom we met while in language school. She was an incredible hostess and on our first day took us to see a little mini-zoo park with gorgeous roses and a variety of animals I don’t normally see.

 

 

While my breath was taken away by the elegance and sheer presence of the larger members of the cat family, I couldn’t help feel awfully sad at the same time. Staring at the tiger’s eyes, I sympathized…the tiger was in a place way way way far from her home, in an extremely different environment and just looked so trapped and out of place. Not that I feel trapped because I do want to be here, but many days I would like to at least be able to leave/bi-locate for a little while, and in that sense I do feel a little trapped. I think it’s great to get to see up-close the amazing animals that exist in the world, but the unnaturalness of a tiger in a small cage in Bolivia instead of free and running around Africa made me feel uncomfortable and sad.

I couldn’t stay sad for long because the next day was wine valley visiting day! We went to Valle Concepcion to a winery called “La Casa Vieja” (the old house) where we got to taste various wines, eat lunch and listen to a really great live music group. Just like in the southern part of the United States, in the southern part of Bolivia the music tends to have more stringed instruments like guitars and violins be the prominent sounds—there’s a certain twang in the music that I just love!

 

A little "I love Lucy" moment

 

One of the things I miss a lot is the ocean and everything that comes along with it. While I can’t eat North Carolina or Chesapeake Bay crabs with Old Bay seasoning, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to eat soft-shell river crabs. They’re well known in Tarija and served fried (they’re crunchy like popcorn) over kernels of corn (but it’s big white corn, different from what we generally eat in the US food market).

 

Food is so incredible. It is such a deep part of a place and culture. While little crabs and wine are two of the specialties in Tarija, there are also certain foods that mark the time of honoring the dead. Here in Bolivia, November 1 and 2 are celebrated with much effort and dedication, because these two days are the feasts honoring all the saints (those souls in heaven) and all souls (everyone who has died). These days are preceded by much preparation, preparation of FOOD that is. It’s custom here to prepare the table with lots of fruits, sweets, favorite meals and special bread-dolls. This time every year it’s believed that the souls return to their homes. In order that the souls might be at peace, it’s important to feed them well and place each item with much intention so that the soul may be guided around the table through the various courses and then climb the “stairs” of the palm leaves in order to return to the dead in peace.

 

The market was packed with cookies, flowers and “tanta-wawas” which is bread dough formed to look like people, representing the person who has died. I took several pictures partly on behalf of my sister studying at the culinary institute of America and partly because it was fascinating to observe.

 

On Tuesday November 2, we went, like most Bolivians do, to the cemetery. It’s a holiday, just showing again, the importance of honoring the dead here. Someone asked me what we do in the United States and I couldn’t think of anything special besides going to church…makes me reflect on how DO I honor those gone before me?

 

There are many boys who earn money singing and praying for the deceased at the request of the families who come to visit the tombs.

 

For the radio program, I interviewed someone from an NGO here that has worked with these boys to educate the cemetery visitors about disposal of the flowers and separation of trash. They just installed large-scale composting in the cemetery itself to utilize the TONS of flowers left at the tombs, instead of trucking them to the dump. Pretty great move I think.

 

Just outside the cemetery the street was packed with people, tarps, food, drink and memorial displays. Instead of preparing the spread of food at home, some people did it outside the cemetery.

 

At the end of the visit, I stopped for several minutes, captured by the beauty of the sky. Kind of like life, the sky reminded me that there are moments to be sad and mourn, but there is also always some light and goodness present…don’t you think?

 

5 things I’m thankful for today: generosity of friends lending me their backpacking gear; unexpected time to get done things I failed to do earlier; conversations with people who understand me; long-awaited success in getting the bar to stay up so that I can finally hang up my clothes; my California red-worm wriggles composting away underneath my sink and the annoying aphids eating the roses in our garden because both have given me a genuine way to bond with my neighbors, the burn-victim kids whose normal interactions with white foreigners involve being given *things* and taken to special places.

For more pictures, please go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/NovemberBlog#

Springtime, What am I doing? Urkupiña, Pedestrian Day

Happy October to you all! While October in my mind is a time of gradual leave changing, pumpkin picking, cinnamon, going for walks wearing vests to provide the extra bit of warmth now needed…that is not at all my experience of October here in Cochabamba, Bolivia. It’s springtime now baby! My window basil plant and spider plants seemed to instinctively know when September 21st came because that very week, they just decided to start growing after months of simply “being”. Just last night I went to the main plaza to listen to some free music and noticed how beautiful all the flowers were and how comfortable the air was. It’s very pleasant here, but I have to admit that I miss Virginia October.

I owe you all an apology for not corresponding before this when I’d said I would. As I mentioned last time, my plans and reality hardly ever match up. It’s really a constant lesson to me how not in control I am. Just this week for example I found out I have amoebas and an infection in my intestines. I didn’t plan for that! How dare those little bugs have the nerve to intrude my body without my permission? On Thursday I finally had a day that I was in the city and able to get tested and then the doctor here at the social center where I live gave me medicine yesterday…I hope it starts working soon.

So, let’s get right to the stories I promised to share. When I talk to some of you, it seems like there is a general question of what I do and where I’m living. Just to clarify, I live in the city of Cochabamba, in a former convent that was donated in order to be used as a social center, housing many services that didn’t have a physical place before. Within the building I share an apartment with one other Franciscan missioner. We have our own kitchen, bathroom and each have our own bedrooms. We shop, cook and clean for ourselves. Also living in the center are anywhere from 10-15 kids who are recovering from very serious burns, so it’s hardly ever quiet and there are always opportunities and requests to play.

What do I do every day? That’s a wonderful question that changes each day. While I sort of officially am involved in three organizations/areas, I’m actually involved in much more than that, which has its advantages and disadvantages. I spend part of my week working on efforts for Franciscans International-Bolivia, which has goals around promoting caring for creation/the environment, human rights, peace and reducing poverty. Projects currently include collaborating in recycling efforts here in Bolivia, planning eco-theological retreats (visit http://www.ecobolivia.org/en/videos-madidi.php to see the place where we hope to have a retreat next year 2011 for foreign English speakers to come visit), and a weekly radio show about ecology issues with a Franciscan perspective. The radio show has come to dominate my time, and with my friend Renee, we’ve had 6 shows so far, talking about topics such as the ozone layer, planting an urban organic garden, Animal Day, Peace Day, the 350.org campaign, climate change, Bolivian Women’s Day and much more. This Monday we’ll be talking about World Food Day, which is TODAY October 16th, and the theme this year is United against Hunger. I really enjoy the content and the opportunity to share with the public, but I hope to be transitioning out of it within the next couple months so that more Bolivians better suited than me can take over.

I spend other parts of my week with a parish called San Carlos. Sometimes I go to the afterschool program and assist kids with homework, which often involves English homework or them asking me how to say names in English or translating songs, ranging from the ABC song to Justin Beiber and Black Eyed Peas. Other times I’m researching and meeting people in other organizations or the university to prepare for the garden and raising guinea pigs that I’m supposed to be leading in one of the 6 centers of the parish. It’s a real challenge for me because there’s no water. All the water is trucked in and the water we do have is not only coveted but doesn’t have a way to get down to the “yard”, at least not yet, but I’m working on it. I’m also trying to figure out how to best communicate with my bosses, the parents, the teachers and the kids, and it’s a struggle. I’ve been reminded more of how sensitive I need to be about HOW I say things because my directness has gotten me in trouble. Below are pictures of the land before and after the first clean-up to prepare for the garden.

 

 

 

Other times of the week I’m working with my friend Renee, whose thesis project revolves around home composting and gardening in order to reduce/reuse waste and be more self-sustaining when it comes to food, in a neighborhood of the southern zone, which is the poorer area of Cochabamba, where the water is trucked in. Since I last wrote, we’ve made lots of contacts, started a little experiment garden at the university to learn more, and this past Tuesday we used the compost started several months ago at an afterschool program in the neighborhood to plant a garden. The kids loved it and while it was hectic, it was a good experience, especially for me leading up to the preparing and planting of the garden for San Carlos.

Speaking of gardens, I’m also spending time in the garden here at the social center where I live…pulling weeds, trimming trees and plants, watering, cutting the little bits of grass, and receiving lots of advice on how I should or should not be doing things. Last week the kids who live here got really excited about the idea of having their own plants so we took a bunch of babies off the spider plants and planted them in plastic bottles cut in half with drainage holes poked in the bottom. Spider plant in Spanish is called “mala madre” or bad mother, because she kicks all her children out of the house, so we rescued the abandoned and we’ll see how they survive…

There’s a lot more that comes across my plate each week, but I think that’s sufficient for now, because I want to tell you all about the festival of the “Virgen de Urkupiña” which means “Virgin Mary of Urkupiña” and was celebrated on the weekend of August 14-16. The story goes that a little shepherd girl was tending her flock in the hills nearby the town of Quillacollo, a province of Cochabamba. She kept seeing a woman and baby and told her family about it. When they asked the little girl where she was, she said in Quechwa "urqupiña" which roughly means, “she’s already on the hill”. One day, on August 15th, some of her family and neighbors went to the spot where the little girl shepherded her flock and also saw the woman and baby. An image of the woman appeared at the spot, and for hundreds of years Bolivians have been coming to Quillacollo and the hill a few kilometers away around Aug 15th to celebrate and honor the Virgin Mary of Urkupiña.

 

On Saturday the all-day parades started. I got really lucky and through a Maryknoll friend was able to bypass paying money for a seat, being crowded in the street etc. to watch the parade and instead got to comfortably stand on the 2nd floor balcony of this old historic house directly next to the main church in the square of Quillacollo where the parade ended. I really enjoyed watching all the dance troupes because their costumes, dancing and the music are all so impressive, entertaining and authentic. There were over 70 groups and moved along without too much waiting time, which I hear is very uncommon because for the first time ever alcohol was banned to be sold because there’s been a lot of trouble in past years with drunkenness and abuse.

 

 

On Sunday night I joined thousands of people in a pilgrimage walk from the main plaza of Cochabamba to the main square of Quillacollo (same place I had a spot to watch the parade the day before). It’s custom to walk through the night starting around midnight and arriving sometime between 5 and 7am in Quillacollo. I’ve heard that it’s between 13 and 16 km, which is between 8 and 10 miles that we walked. I really enjoyed the walk more than the parts to follow, because it’s a different experience being outside in the middle of the night with all these people who share their city with me and yet I don’t know them, and there we were doing something together—walking. I was able to have some really good conversation with a friend and also reflect, as walking for long periods of time always gives me a chance to do. In a daily life cycle that doesn’t give much room to pause and notice my interdependence on my neighbor, I really appreciated being a part of such a large group coming together to do something so simple as walk from one town to another, aiding me in remembering that I’m part of a community with faces, stories and gifts to share with the rest of us.

 

 

In the main plaza of Quillacollo, there are masses said every hour starting at 5am in the main square and if people want, they keep walking on to the “hill”. Many people don’t walk through the night but visit the hill on the 16th. Now before I give you the impression that this experience was all simple, solemn and kum-bay-ya-ish, it was not. Once I reached Quillacollo, I walked past lots and lots of people selling things (food and non-food items), carnival games, teenagers and kids playing around, and more selling before I ever reached the main plaza. From there to the “hill” it was worse. The ENTIRE way (several km more) was packed with people selling stuff on either side of the street. The custom is to buy miniatures of the things you want in the coming year, like a house, car, baby, money etc.

 

Now, I’ve never been one that enjoys shopping, so this was not at all my cup of tea. I’ve tried to be open to understanding what it is that attracts so many to have such devotion to going to this place, and I understand part of it but not all by any means. This is only my experience, which is not truth, and there’s a lot more than what I observed, but I can share with you what my impressions were. I think it’s a distraction to have so much focus on THINGS. Granted, many people really are poor and need more things to have their basic needs met more fully. However, while walking past kilometers of objects that I was supposed to buy because I’m supposed to want more things, I did not feel encouraged to focus on, say, the non-material, more spiritual aspects of life. I felt pressured to buy, buy, buy and to want, want, want. It reminded me a lot pressures I feel on a daily basis in the United States.

Whether or not you believe in a God or Jesus, I think it’s reasonable to say that the values promoted in the world’s major religions are similar in their focus on love, peace, justice and goodness. Well, since Mary was the mother of Jesus, believed by many to be God, I also think it’s reasonable to say that Mary would be a figure of similar values; at least that is my understanding and belief of her. Therefore, for me, it was difficult to have the understanding of Mary being a figure of love and focus on service to each other, and yet being surrounded by messages whose focus was on asking Mary to give us things, favors and protection. People also dig for rocks and the size of the rock hit off corresponds with the money or fortune one will receive in the following year. I personally don’t agree with this idea of Mary. I must repeat that I don’t have a full understanding of this tradition and the meanings behind it, so I could very well be mistaken on my interpretation…at least I hope I will come to see more in the future. I’m constantly learning and I make thousands of mistakes every week so if you have more information that can better explain it to me, please share! I’m glad I went and experienced the parade, the overnight walk, so many people praying, the ceremonies, the selling and buying, the conglomeration of so many people and the other customs.

 

 

Another tradition I participated in was Pedestrian Day, which takes place here in Cochabamba (not Bolivia nationwide) in September. Starting at 6am and lasting until 5pm or so, NO CARS are allowed to drive so the streets are left free to all the walkers, runners, strollers, bikes, skateboards, soccer games and more. Lots of organizations that have a focus on something related to the environment came out that day and set up tents with information, games, artwork, and give-aways in exchange for batteries of plastic bags. It was a good day and just like with the walk to Quillacollo, I enjoyed being out with so many of my neighbors, when so often we’re separated by buses and other forms of transportation. I even saw hang-gliders, gymnasts and martial arts students performing on the street, and lots of kids having a ball riding their bikes.

 

 

I hope that this day, October 16, is a good day for you, in which you have enough to eat, and also think about those who don’t; those who face rising food prices due to droughts (like here in Bolivia), floods (like in Pakistan); or lowering food prices when multinationals enter a new place and bring new competition to local farmers and what those effects are. As my sociology professor used to say in our globalization class, “the interconnections in our world are getting quicker and thicker”. We need each other. Happy World Food Day!

5 things I’m thankful for today: a less-busy morning; the little bit of rain we got this past week; my health is not as bad as is has been in the past; my family; I am given enough resources to eat healthily and completely each and every day

For more pictures, please go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/SeptemberBlog#

Tires, Incan Ruins, the Environment, and…more Dancing!

Yes, I am still here, alive, active and living by the seat of my pants as always. The week before last was a week full of me learning and re-learning the lesson that I am not in control and plans are often just really exercises for the brain but futile if intended to help in directing how reality will play out. Because I’m working half-time at two different places and am also involved in this tire-composting project, I never really know exactly how my day will turn out and often I find myself pleasantly surprised. So different from my lifestyle back in Virginia.

As I promised in the last blog that I would explain more about the composting, I will start with that. My friend, Renee is working on her thesis project which involves reducing, reutilizing and classifying waste in a neighborhood of the southern zone of Cochabamba. I, along with a Maryknoll priest “Pablo” (a South Dakotan who went to the same college as my grandpa) are helping her. We collect tires, of which there are thousands along the highway, side roads and neighborhoods just looking trashy, so we salvage them to make a composter.

 

We fill them with our kitchen waste (except meat, bones, fat, dairy) and garden waste, top it with two tire rings tied together with a mesh screen in between to keep out/in the flies. Every couple weeks I flip it upside down by pulling each tire and its contents off the stack one by one, shoveling the material back in that tire which instead of being on top is now on bottom etc. That way, it gets air, which helps in decomposition. Tires are great because they maintain the heat, don’t let out moisture, are durable, free and we’re re-using.

 

In the past couple months, we have given 3 workshops to both little kids and teenagers/young adults, and it’s possible that the Boy and Girl Scouts will take it on as a national project this upcoming year (although that hasn’t been decided yet). I’ve got two here in the garden at the social center where I live and one I’m taking care of in front of the Justice and Peace office, where I work part-time.

I’ve been really surprised by the interest people have in it. Most people I talk to actually like the idea and are very encouraging. The other day I went to an inter-institutional meeting of groups working with the people who search through garbage to find recyclables (they hardly earn any money and are a very poor group) and found out that studies done in Cochabamba show that 50-60% of the average person’s trash here is organic, and 22-25% is recyclable. Trash is a really big issue here and I think possible solutions or strategies are attractive for that reason.

When we went to work with the after-school group in a neighborhood of the southern zone, we took them on a scavenger hunt to find materials and they loved it! They were so enthusiastic about assembling it when we got back as you can see in the pictures. Here we are with some of the kids of the afterschool program.

 

Tires are also great for making planters and when painted, look much better.

 

I keep talking about the "southern zone" which is hard to describe in words without pictures to help, so here are two photos to give more of an idea of the conditions (like lack of water) that the people living there are dealing with.

 

 

Shortly after these pictures were taken, I went to a national gathering of the Franciscan movement of Justice and Peace in a town about 45 min. from here, called Tarata. I somehow got put on a committee of the Franciscan Justice and Peace group of Cochabamba (there are groups in most of the 9 departments of Bolivia). I wasn’t feeling great that week, but I was able to enjoy the beautiful garden at the Franciscan convent we stayed at, very aware of the stark contrast with the southern zone pictured above.

 

I also want to share a giant painting I saw there, with the title “Andean Face of God”. I realize everyone has different viewpoints of God or whether a God even exists, but I really like this painting because it expands the traditional western image of a white old guy. I think there’s no way to ever *fully* define God; that would be too limiting. My experience has shown me that God can be found in every person and in "mother earth" too. Whatever you think, I hope at least you find it thought-provoking.

 

Circumstances turned out that July brought an opportunity to go to Cusco, Peru, where I met up with my sister’s boyfriend, who was doing some civil engineering work with a group of archaeologists from UCLA at Saqsaywaman, a famous Incan ruin. I had an incredible time seeing LOTS of ruins and terraces, beautiful hiking in the Sacred Valley and Cusco Valley, multiple museums, and great food and drink including ceviche…mmmm! Luke and I made good travel buddies because he was patient with my very long teeth-brushing and sun-screening routines and I was patient (well maybe a little cranky at times) with his simple and non-costly diet of bread and peanut butter we had every day. I really enjoyed having a personal guide, or at least one who had books and was willing to go on adventures. (picture below is of Compañía de Jesús, Jesuit church in Plaza de Armas)

 

On Friday, 23rd of July we took a taxi up to Tambomachay (ceremonial stone bath), then walked to Puca Pucara (fort or hunting lodge on a private Incan estate), photo below

 

After Puca Pucara, we continued along the hills to a mystery ruin, Salapunco (temple of the moon with really cool carvings and views), Q’enqo (zigzag large limestone rock with niches and stone altar), Saqsaywaman (“greatest and most superb edifice raised by Incas to demonstrate majesty and power” with three levels of terraces separated by giant stone zigzag walls), three photos below

 

 

I couldn't help myself, all those stone walls were just asking to be tested out

 

After spenging a good while exploring the obvious beauties of Saqsaywaman, we kept going on to the archaeology dig back in the very quiet and beautiful “campo”, and finally after 10 hours of exploring-walking to a restaurant with a delicious meal I scarffed down without barely a breath.

Saturday was museum day and we got stoned-out (as in, rocks, not other substances)—those Incans were INCREDIBLE. I just don’t know how they possibly formed the stones so perfectly and placed them as high as they did nor as perfectly. Very impressive, and my engineer expert felt the same way. We saw some incredible churches too, one with tons of mirrors all over, giving it a magical sparkling effect that was entrancing (Santa Clara).

Sunday we went to the cathedral—wow, that was huge and full of very large stone columns and a painting of the Last Supper, complete with guinea pig and chicha (fermented corn drink). Even though Luke had cold sweats, we still took a day trip out to the Sacred Valley to visit Moray and Salinas. Moray is thought to have been an archaeological experiment with terraces in a funnel shape to a depth of 150 meters.

 

Salinas – So. Much. Salt! We talked with a pre-teen girl working there with her little baby sister on her back. She explained that she walks 2 hours to get to the Salinas and each plot is owned by a family. Families usually have multiple plots. The salt was just so beautiful, like snow, but not cold and not as soft and fluffy. She said there’s a legend that a saint came here and spilled his chicha down the valley, which is why all the salt appeared here.

 

Monday we headed to Pisaq, 32 km from Cusco. 4km from (mostly up) the pueblo are archaeological ruins and more terraces than you can imagine. It was such a great hike with beautiful sights and lots of awe-moments. The trek became especially memorable because poor Luke revealed part-way through that he was actually feeling pretty bad, but was an amazing sport and pushed through—thanks Luke!

 

Immediately after returning, I jumped back into a project I was leading a group of 5 high-school students in, from the San Carlos center Cerro Verde. They researched how global warming is effecting the flora and fauna of Brazil and presented the their findings at a conference where other high school groups presented about other countries and other affects such as health and water. It was a good learning experience, both for me and for them. They’d never used powerpoint before, nor had much experience presenting in front of a large group of peers, so I did lots of encouraging and reassuring!

 

Speaking of the environment and gas emissions that have a greenhouse effect, here is a picture I took from the hill of Cerro Verde, overlooking the city of Cochabamba. Without any rain, the smog just hovers

 

Here are two little friends of mine at Cerro Verde, photo taken courtesy of another kid anxious to practice his photography skills.

 

Sunday August 8th the neighborhood of Cerro Verde ended a week of celebration with a parade, mass and large lunch feast. There were two dances, the Saya, an afro-bolivian dance, and the morenada, another folkloric dance. Here are two photos of the girls dancing the Saya

 

 

These little kids were dancing the morenada...How cute are they? Check out the link below for videos of the dances.

 

I will end by sharing a link to a newspaper article from the NY Times article about the city I live in, Cochabamba, Bolivia “All Advice leads to Cochabamba”. Clearly, a good place to visit, not just because I’m here and promise to be a wonderful host! http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/29/all-advice-leads-to-cochabamba-bolivia/

Next entry will not come so late, and I’ll talk more about all the experiences I’m having with the kids at Cerro Verde, guinea pigs, Franciscans International-Bolivia, and my beloved composters and plants. Also, the festival of “Virgen de Urkupina” was just celebrated and I have stories about that too – complete with dances and another overnight walk. Thanks for being patient with me.

For more pictures and videos, please go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/Aug16Blog#

5 things I’m thankful for today: talking to my cousin; homemade pizza; sharing pictures of my friends, family, and the North Carolina beach with the kids who live here in the center with me; a day of rest; and a hilarious video-card I received from a friend of a very confident and positive little girl, Jessica, singing on her bathroom counter…what great spirit!