tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47281659782080741402023-11-15T22:20:48.014-08:00A Walk in BoliviaNorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-86889655053268776132013-02-12T16:18:00.001-08:002013-02-12T16:18:43.123-08:00The Close of a Chapter<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I would like to thank you for reading this blog, <span style="font-size: small;">even if just on<span style="font-size: small;">ce I thank you for</span></span> having visited and I hope you enjoyed what you read or<span style="font-size: small;"> the</span> pictures you saw. Choosing what to write was sometimes a challenge because there was so much to think about. I thank you for being patient with me and for accompanying me in the process. It's been a pleasure having had people with whom to share my experience, my questions, my joys and my challenges.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I have closed my chapter as a missioner with Franciscan Mission Service, I'm opening a new chapter by going back to Bolivia, serving with Franciscans International. If you are interested in following my experience and staying in touch, please go to </span></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<![endif]--><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://walkingwithfibolivia.blogspot.com/">http://walkingwithfibolivia.blogspot.com/</a></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span>I le<span style="font-size: small;">ave you w</span>ith the words of an old Irish blessing... </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">May the road rise up to meet you.<br />
May the wind always be at your back.<br />
May the sun shine warm upon your face,<br />
and rains fall soft upon your fields.<br />
And until we meet again,<br />
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.</span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-47143316678455143982013-01-28T19:31:00.000-08:002013-01-28T19:31:42.909-08:00The LARGEST salt flat in the world and Thanksgiving!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]-->“Am I ever going to make it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the question that went through my mind
at least twenty times on the 4<sup>th</sup> of November, 2012.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not think going to the Salar de Uyuni
(salt flats of Uyuni) was in the cards for me as I was supposed to have gone
two other times earlier in the year and it hadn’t work out and now this-- I almost
missed my bus from Cochabamba to Oruro because I had to go to the bathroom,
then we DID miss the train from Oruro to Uyuni because the bus arrived so late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After scrambling into a taxi to take us to
some unknown corner where there were cars that drove out an hour and half in
the same direction as the train, we hopped into one praying we could outrun the
train and catch it at its next stop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The driver stopped on the side of road in almost total
darkness telling us to walk down a path and we’d arrive at the train
station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fished out my flashlight and
found the “path” toward a little light about 100 yards away, and sure enough there
was a tiny train station with a little platform and about 30 people bundled up
in the cold sitting on their aguayo cloths or standing and smoking, waiting for
our train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you know!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The night really turned around when as the train pulled up
and was coming to a stop, I heard one of the conductors yelling out my name at
the top of his lungs as he hangs out the train car window, “Nora! Nora!” I
jumped in surprise and started running towards him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I happened to have a friend on board, who had
told the conductor I didn’t know what I was doing and would need some help so
he kindly offered to scream my name out, and it worked, I found my friend. </div>
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As it turns out, I was able to see the largest salt flat in
the world, at a whopping 10,582 square kilometers (4,086 sq mi) in
size and with an elevation of 3,656 meters (11,995 ft).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can see it from space, so I’m told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was really amazing, full of animals (flamingos, vicuña),
sights ("island" of cacti, green lakes, red lake), geological formations (volcanic rock, a stone tree) that I’d never see anywhere else but in
Bolivia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
As I took everything in, I was once again amazed at
creation, amazed at the stunning beauty, the extravagance of the night sky
filled with stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish that the kids
in the city of Cochabamba could afford to go there and see how majestic their
country is, how important it is to preserve it, take care of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Likewise when I have visited national parks
in the US, I gained a connection with the land, with the country, and I fell in
love just a little more, as if the Artist of the world were trying to woo me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so grateful for the opportunity to have
gone and seen all that I saw, I highly recommend it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my return, not only did I find myself thankful for the
salt flats, but also very thankful for the whole experience of entering into
people’s lives the last three years in Bolivia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I was preparing to return to the US, I decided to celebrate
Thanksgiving with my Bolivian friends by baking them three “autumn” American desserts
as a way of thanking them for being a part of my life and for all they’ve
taught me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made apple crisp, pecan
diamonds and carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a nice time and a good way to be
thankful on such a great American holiday and also end my time in Bolivia with
Franciscan Mission Service.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5 things I’m thankful for today: the smell of baking apples
with sweet cinnamon; people’s patience with me; (slow) progress in cleaning;
the immensity of people’s hearts and how hard it is to leave them; YOU reading
this blog post, I’m grateful for you, thank you for reading and thank you for
listening to my stories.</div>
Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-29822439592242169672012-12-31T15:17:00.000-08:002013-01-06T18:35:40.484-08:00The Cycle of Life<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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For me, one of the blessings of being in someone else’s
home, culture, country, house of worship etc. is having my eyes opened to
another way of seeing, another way of interpreting life and its events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oftentimes I come away enriched, able to see
more clearly or at least experience more deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is very true for me in my experiences of
death while here in Bolivia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I have seen very dear loved ones leave this life both from a
distance in the United States, and also here in Cochabamba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have accompanied people in their sorrow as
they have lost family members.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coming
into mission, I never knew death would be such a prevalent part of my time.<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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At the end of St. Francis’ life, he wrote a canticle
praising God and all Creation, and at the very end is the most curious part to
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“ </span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Be praised, my Lord,
for our Sister Death, whom we must all face. I praise and bless you, Lord, and
I give thanks to you, and I will serve you in all humility.”</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b></div>
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In referring to
death as a sister, he implies that death is like part of our family, and in a
way it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To what family does it not
visit?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To what family does it not
greatly affect? Yet, there is something hopeful in Francis’ words, giving
thanks and recognizing that Sister Death takes us on to a different life, to
the source of all Good, Love and Joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Death is NOT the end, it is a transition.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSztMCwlPu9H-kfC4lp3JMBZBEs_9sOOXXNov5xupLQnNvSSG8b2g3KyK6YkmfKGqIy8qbsiYCckL8qOVSVtScGV7bk9SNhgzhyDYcJno5ASvH5yGCZIZvF4JQiBu92kTuTRBsdRlYySB/s1600/IMG_2687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSztMCwlPu9H-kfC4lp3JMBZBEs_9sOOXXNov5xupLQnNvSSG8b2g3KyK6YkmfKGqIy8qbsiYCckL8qOVSVtScGV7bk9SNhgzhyDYcJno5ASvH5yGCZIZvF4JQiBu92kTuTRBsdRlYySB/s320/IMG_2687.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">For many people in
Bolivia, this transition of death is marked by wearing all black for a year and
usually visiting the cemetery on Sundays, bringing flowers to the grave and
praying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The poor are also always
present at the cemetery, usually young boys or adolescents, people will walk
around offering to pray and sing or even play music for the deceased loved one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have witnessed many people offer these
prayers and songs and I’m touched by them every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In return the people visiting give some money
to the people praying as a gesture of appreciation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course family members visiting pray too,
but the way I see it, it is a way for people who might never otherwise have an
interaction to share a moment of accompaniment in times of grief and sorrow,
feelings every human being knows no matter where they come from or where they
live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is something in the giving
of prayers, in sharing those difficult moments that is beautiful to me. </span><br />
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span>Looking back on the last 12 months, many of the memories
that stick out to me are around death and the sorrow is heavy to carry, which
is why I don’t think we should ever carry it alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In mourning, there is also accompaniment by
our community, our friends, our family, and that is what impresses me the most—the
love that shines through, the love shared with the person who has passed on and
the love shared by the ones who remain in this life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my favorite books is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tuesdays with Morrie, </i>and one of the
many wise things Morrie said about death was the following:</div>
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“As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling
of love we had, we can die without ever really going away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the love you created is still there…Death
ends a life, not a relationship.” P174</div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As we honored the
dead for All Souls’ Day and All Saints’ Day the 1<sup>st</sup> and 2<sup>nd</sup>
of November in Cochabamba, I was reminded of the truth in that statement, “all
the love you created is still there”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many people prepared tables in their homes with the favorite foods of
the deceased, many more visited the gravesides with flowers and prayers, and
memories were shared.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Something different
that happened this year is that a group of people wanted to remember the souls
of the indigenous people who lost their lives in the process of marching from
the jungle to the high altitude of La Paz protesting the construction of a
highway through their protected territory and national park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside my office they set up a table with
pictures and food as a way of honoring the people who passed away and praying
for them.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySsaR21dhOQ6aE8_KkvD6QWNZNCePzbl8m7dUYnnIfs9TRKFrKH6uo9SKBnjFz5Z1EaJxPTSiNtx0yZ6vt7713L91CuAZqvWu_45z3v6u96M2u2gA-CYZjdGX1kXX9qOZE7w2pmJefAEl/s1600/IMG_6219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySsaR21dhOQ6aE8_KkvD6QWNZNCePzbl8m7dUYnnIfs9TRKFrKH6uo9SKBnjFz5Z1EaJxPTSiNtx0yZ6vt7713L91CuAZqvWu_45z3v6u96M2u2gA-CYZjdGX1kXX9qOZE7w2pmJefAEl/s320/IMG_6219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">If you have lost a
loved one this past year, my sincere prayer and hope is that you receive peace
and cherish the love you have with that person because that love never dies but
is always with us.</span></div>
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5 Things I’m Grateful for Today: the ability to be in
Cochabamba and experience the many traditions around death and honoring the
dead; being received into people’s homes with such open and loving arms; the
chance to change and grow; hugs; more hugs; witnessing families who take care
of each other.</div>
Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-78641894597842133312012-10-10T18:14:00.000-07:002012-10-10T18:14:07.545-07:00They paved paradise and put up a parking lotI find myself recently reminded of the words from the Joni Mitchell song “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t what you got till it’s gone…” It’s true, isn’t it? In Absence is where I often encounter how much I appreciated someone or something. I could talk about many people, but today I’d like to talk about my neighbors who have moved away, the kids I often talked about (even sometimes complained about their noise or pestering) who have shared the building I live in.<br /><br />When a child gets a really bad burn and doesn’t have the resources to get all the proper follow-up treatment or surgeries, they often end up in a program that helps Bolivian children in their recovery and recuperation. This program used to have its facilities in the building I live in, but recently they finished the construction of a house, with lots of space and built just for them, which means that they no longer are my neighbors, and I miss them, oh how I miss them.<br /><br />I miss walking in the door and being greeted by loud shouts of “NORA, NORA, NORA!” or depending on who is there “MORWA, MORWA, MORWA!” accompanied by arm waving and dancing. I miss going into the hallway to go to the bathroom from my room and having a ball kicked by me because I’ve unknowingly walked into a soccer game. I miss cleaning my room and having so many helpers just because they like to help not because I ask them…and then those that don’t help play make-believe cars running around the ground with my shoes on their hands
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfkz8mBMFWt6DxzhCVTUwVaDhyUEoHX7VG-Snifb8skmJ4qa2eqKY2N9RGnLrcHtJleTP7buYs2TFdWhmMroLX3IAAOrUD1_Oj6NbDsDbTTHWO4R1HnVCmhR3EwZmgyPNPes6cEiNwQf_/s1600/IMG_5852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfkz8mBMFWt6DxzhCVTUwVaDhyUEoHX7VG-Snifb8skmJ4qa2eqKY2N9RGnLrcHtJleTP7buYs2TFdWhmMroLX3IAAOrUD1_Oj6NbDsDbTTHWO4R1HnVCmhR3EwZmgyPNPes6cEiNwQf_/s320/IMG_5852.JPG" /></a></div>I miss all the hugs and kisses. I miss baking cakes together for peoples’ birthdays and seeing the eagerness and joy in their eyes at being able to participate in the process and enjoy the fruits of their labor afterwards. I miss their silly jokes and hair styles. I miss the help in the garden. I miss seeing them grow month to month..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnuIsjIkiRv1QZ-pU4ftBzl_ggx0-MsGSMIr2mqOs99VtzWRdoZ1rmfOYMT6LoCdmhhjAaaRRYTZVPODkbQt304cg711OFWfCA6Ybfrrq3QWfwUe4eE6AzBTAQ8XlEN5p6JMMvLz26w-N/s1600/IMG_6101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnuIsjIkiRv1QZ-pU4ftBzl_ggx0-MsGSMIr2mqOs99VtzWRdoZ1rmfOYMT6LoCdmhhjAaaRRYTZVPODkbQt304cg711OFWfCA6Ybfrrq3QWfwUe4eE6AzBTAQ8XlEN5p6JMMvLz26w-N/s320/IMG_6101.JPG" /></a></div>I miss the energy, the LIFE they gave this place, the LIFE they gave to me. Sure I complained about the noise super early in the morning, or the nagging, but the truth of the matter is that these neighbors of mine made all the difference to me. They made it “home”. That aspect has gone with them, now it feels like a building in the middle of the city.<br /><br />When we chat with friends or family, we may ask how work is going, how family is, how our hobbies are, but it’s rare that someone asks you upon meeting or reconnecting, “How are your neighbors?” Despite this, it’s actually a pretty important part of our lives, or at least it can be, and if it’s not, why not? Having a good relationship with my neighbors helps me feel more connected and increases my sense of belonging and security. Since I am coming upon the end of my time living here, maybe this is good as it helps me to disconnect. I still miss them though. “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t what you got till it’s gone…”<br /><br />5 Things I’m Grateful for Today: the two plus years I’ve had to be a neighbor to the kids recovering from burns; the cereal Craklin’ Oat Bran; music that lifts my spirit and makes me dance; getting 3 pineapples and a little watermelon all for less than $2 this morning at the market; my friends and family who bring me so much love and joy, thank you!
Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-51069754098966278062012-09-07T05:38:00.000-07:002012-09-07T05:38:00.814-07:00Seeing the Beauty in LifeI don’t realize how good I have it. I’m not talking about just today, a Thursday in September, I’m talking about every day of my life so far.<br /><br />Recently I had the opportunity to accompany a friend who is a Christian Brother, and a small group of volunteers from Argentina on a home visit. The Christian Brothers tend to work in education, and when they came to Cochabamba, Bolivia they realized that they couldn’t tackle education without addressing the population of kids who don’t go to school or don’t go frequently because they are working on the streets in the very large outdoor market in Cochabamba.<br /><br />Why are kids working on the street and not in school? Poverty is the main reason. If mom and/or dad don’t earn enough to feed, clothe and house the kids, the kids need to work. It’s not always that simple. Sometimes kids don’t only work on the streets but also live on the streets and oftentimes the push factors for kids include violence within the family and lack of money to care properly for the kids. My friend explained that some kids fall behind in school because they don’t have the money to buy the books (they have to buy books each year) and they’re too embarrassed to tell the teacher for fear of being reprimanded or looked down upon, so they stop attending school. Each case has its own circumstances, I’m just giving some examples.<br /><br />After getting to know so many kids who work in the market, the Brothers also get to know their families if possible. We went to visit the family of a set of brothers who both worked. We started out in the market and it took maybe a half hour or a little more to get to the end of the line of the public transportation. When we got out of the car (like a bus, but it’s a minivan with a route), this is the scenery we saw<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOAGFhXz_YsFWkfaWQmOFx36tx-mfP-zKBJYTPy8vqlj7RMoRYso0h61aYdVQrIfFtQWQ4A1kIKocoDoewtj-KsLkZuCpre60s_0OZdIwBrV5CORs1NEnvH5wyHj1qGPzpry_LYQmSNGo/s1600/IMG_5867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOAGFhXz_YsFWkfaWQmOFx36tx-mfP-zKBJYTPy8vqlj7RMoRYso0h61aYdVQrIfFtQWQ4A1kIKocoDoewtj-KsLkZuCpre60s_0OZdIwBrV5CORs1NEnvH5wyHj1qGPzpry_LYQmSNGo/s320/IMG_5867.JPG" /></a></div>
We walked for about 45 minutes with a drink stop before we reached the house. This included walking up a very steep hill on dirt roads and then descending a mountain-side, also very steep, and through the brush and cacti. My friend explained to us that the kids in the family have to walk all that way every day to go to school and the mom has to walk that in order to bring home any groceries or really anything. Oh! And she has a baby on her back while she does this.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQYJkc66NVm6bVPYBg3vOuAE_QSxzxbMznI4FiSe2jC2BbqZc1Q4erjzPCTysLyW47oCS7LdcgZFpcqKMWfgGJKAXf9rAYp1DR7DjsIZgcyZ99qSmMbHN6iV6YvwiJSQZ-yWpaxo8Nf6Y/s1600/IMG_5869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQYJkc66NVm6bVPYBg3vOuAE_QSxzxbMznI4FiSe2jC2BbqZc1Q4erjzPCTysLyW47oCS7LdcgZFpcqKMWfgGJKAXf9rAYp1DR7DjsIZgcyZ99qSmMbHN6iV6YvwiJSQZ-yWpaxo8Nf6Y/s320/IMG_5869.JPG" /></a></div>
When the six of us arrived, they greeted us with smiles and glasses of a no-name brand soda. There were not seats for everyone, so she put a blanket down for some to sit on. The boys’ little sister showed us her homework, while the two teenagers from Argentina went to play soccer in the dirt with the brothers and a couple of their friends.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQ1y3LBXDSiDUuWfSQuMcAitVNN1SszqVj1RBd9g9IsTh3dSg5RtUSnTKXaRukiBVYcXg3BFVzrGfAneDSvDK_3YG3A-3gsxcrhJvTrNhIqUqH8myC1rKtuMNzyLHyMSmGNJSxnIA69aX/s1600/IMG_5871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQ1y3LBXDSiDUuWfSQuMcAitVNN1SszqVj1RBd9g9IsTh3dSg5RtUSnTKXaRukiBVYcXg3BFVzrGfAneDSvDK_3YG3A-3gsxcrhJvTrNhIqUqH8myC1rKtuMNzyLHyMSmGNJSxnIA69aX/s320/IMG_5871.JPG" /></a></div>
The house they live in is rented. Its walls are not extensive enough to cover the whole house, and I can only imagine what it is like at night when the slight wind we feel in the afternoon becomes brisk and stronger. The mom and her husband have been able to buy a plot of land even further out, but it is theirs. They want to build a house but construction materials are especially expensive right now so they have to keep paying rent.<br /><br />
The Brother and his coworker brought seeds to share with the mom because she is taking advantage of the very small plot of land in front of the house (maybe 10 ft. by 50 ft) to plant onions, beans, potatoes, swiss chard and other vegetables for both family consumption and potentially to sell at the market. Currently the mom sells fruits in the market when she can. This requires getting to a fruit drop-off location at 3:30am and camping out a spot on the street in the market, because if she doesn’t get there that early, someone else will have taken the spot and she won’t have a place to sell.<br /><br />
Can I imagine being one of her kids and having to go work in the market that takes more than an hour to get to, and also go to school and do my homework, and get home before dark ideally? Can I imagine what it would be like to be the mother trying to find a way to care for her kids and make sure they go to school, but at the same time struggling to get them food, clothing and school supplies? All this while having to walk up and down a very steep hill/mountain-side with unsteady footing every day (good muscle development, that is for sure). The short and simple answer is “no”, no I cannot even imagine what my daily life would be like.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPChe777g2LcNW3ptMbegIgdLCgBsXz13qTsFGL0lFxlHE-YsWYReFI_tXuYqFbtCK3FWAxQW1KXZvdt1aCjs0uu3mEGY5eLnB7zBa4qW4abihvte1rnTMWrHREDmPnp65rCLsOfdWwlo/s1600/IMG_5883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPChe777g2LcNW3ptMbegIgdLCgBsXz13qTsFGL0lFxlHE-YsWYReFI_tXuYqFbtCK3FWAxQW1KXZvdt1aCjs0uu3mEGY5eLnB7zBa4qW4abihvte1rnTMWrHREDmPnp65rCLsOfdWwlo/s320/IMG_5883.JPG" /></a></div>
As I started out saying, I don’t even realize how good I have it. Not only do I have enough to eat, I have extra. I have plenty of clothes and books to read and learn from. I have a roof over my head and it may leak but I don’t get wet. I never had to walk more than 5 minutes to catch the school bus (because I had a free bus that picked me up and brought me back home every day). I may walk a good distance carrying my groceries but a bus is there if I really need to take it, for me walking with a heavy load is a chosen exercise—ha, what a novelty.<br /><br />
All in all, I learned a lot in that one afternoon, and I most enjoyed seeing the joy in the kids’ faces while playing soccer. Kids love to play, no matter where you are. Adults do too, but we’re less likely to admit it and unabashedly show our excitement. Hopefully I can remember them the next time I get stressed or worried about some deadline or task, and remember how beautiful life is in its simplicities.<br /><br />
5 Things I’m Grateful for Today: having a hammer and a screwdriver to unclog the shower drain because I have a shower (that family does not); my health; visits from four family members in August; enjoying the last bit of my favorite cereal that I received in the mail from a dear friend as a surprise birthday gift; my friends who make me laugh and bring such joy to my life.
Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-85480526273539143592012-06-30T17:43:00.000-07:002012-06-30T17:43:46.169-07:00TortureLiving in Bolivia and working in the radio programs aimed towards raising awareness and dialogue around social and environmental issues, teaches me something new every week. This past Tuesday was International Day in Support of Victims of Torture and as in the majority (if not all?) countries of Latin America, torture is a part of Bolivia’s recent history and some argue there are incidents in the present as well. We did an interview with a Bolivian non-profit that works in rehabilitation and therapy for people who have been tortured either physically or mentally.<br /><br />Under international law torture is a crime and cannot be justified in any situation, because as the UN states, it “seeks to annihilate the victim’s personality and denies the inherent dignity of the human being”. In order to help people understand the reality that there are many men, women and children living today who have been tortured in some way, every year on the 26 of June there is a worldwide campaign to share about torture practices and their effects, as well as put pressure on governments to act against torture.<br /><br />An example from Bolivia: In the year 2000 a 19 year-old male was detained under the law regarding the controlled substances and coca. According to information published in the national press, two times a week he went through what could be called “the pulling exercise” where two people sit on top of the person and two others pull the person. It was indicated that this exercise is practiced in the early stages of detention in order to get information. This practice was learned in formation at the School of Americas in Georgia. The detainee started coughing up blood as a result of this treatment and was given medicine for tuberculosis without a diagnosis and eventually went to a public hospital where he died within two weeks.<br /><br />Whether the guy did horrendous deeds or not, it strikes me as cruel and unusual punishment, something I’m grateful to say I was taught at an early age in public schools is not only wrong but unconstitutional. This is an extreme example because there are plenty of people who are alive and functioning who have gone through tremendous experiences no human being should have to go through; they’re in Bolivia and they’re in the United States too.<br /><br />Another example less drastic comes from a friend of mine. He told me the other day that in the 50’s he was teaching religion at a Catholic school and accompanied one of the Franciscans to his friary at lunch time. When they arrived, there were a group of political activists who accused my friend of being against them and a spy. As a result, they seized and held him captive for a week, which included not only verbal but also physical abuse in order to get information from him, of which he had none since he had nothing to do with the politics. They let him go, but he said it was quite an experience and still to this day as an 82 year-old man, he gets pain in his neck where they hit him.<br /><br />I’m hopeful that with time there will be less and less stories like these because political parties, law enforcement, militaries etc. will not break this international law, and more importantly moral code. I think it starts as kids, learning that violence in words or deeds is not the best or “only” option to handle things. The toughest part is probably breaking the cycle because the effects can be life-long. I maintain hope!<br /><br />
5 Things I’m Grateful for Today: hot water in the shower; a new cake recipe that is delicious; progress made in various projects; sharing a good meal with good conversation; one more day.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-10785484593629923052012-05-28T10:57:00.000-07:002012-05-28T10:57:06.990-07:00Fly Like a BirdSometimes we find ourselves in the right place at the right time and things come together that we could never have planned or thought of at the start of the day. Being a part of the radio shows allows me to contact a lot of different people asking for information or for an interview, which has opened up many great conversations.<br /><br />Recently I met José, a biologist who teaches at the university and is a bird expert. For those of you who aren’t bird fanatics, it just so happens that there is an International Day of Birds (or migratory birds, depending on which source of information I read) and this year it happened around the second weekend in May. José agreed to come speak on the radio show about birds, and it was really very eye-opening.<br /><br />Bolivia is extremely rich in biodiversity. Despite its smallness in size, it is in the top eight countries in the world in biodiversity. According to online sources there are 1,448 species of birds in Bolivia. While on the air the biologist invited us all to go to the local manmade lake the upcoming Saturday for some bird watching. My Franciscan friend and I agreed it would be a perfect opportunity to take the kids from the social center to see.<br /><br />As a reminder there is a group of kids recovering from bad burns who live in the same building as me and they’re constantly looking for ways to get out and be active outside these 4 walls. Of course when I proposed the idea of going to the lake to see birds and walk around, they jumped at the idea.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOTJPoOA1vp65rDx9R4SX6CKmS0b3I7Ina5fOtXRxwVu7aoURbDz9hEapXSDGtxQ1VXFH4aSyjse9F2W4B0CqP3xKGSYeLZsZpnHIY7KlrelHC1ZjCm0RBhwvun6JwWE4i930DD7X3eN0/s1600/IMG_5808.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOTJPoOA1vp65rDx9R4SX6CKmS0b3I7Ina5fOtXRxwVu7aoURbDz9hEapXSDGtxQ1VXFH4aSyjse9F2W4B0CqP3xKGSYeLZsZpnHIY7KlrelHC1ZjCm0RBhwvun6JwWE4i930DD7X3eN0/s320/IMG_5808.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHoaLeqs44yghg2YEA7owxOhG3GRPSKyuj5_8suySIqBUEg9LBsg_XKjreWsHOdb5c9w_6SA8AKmwA_VOjEks6ppKDvxTLlByzrW5UWS6uhE8IZAHujOKWNBkY0tQMYEA5Sywe4gWjfPZk/s1600/IMG_5819.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHoaLeqs44yghg2YEA7owxOhG3GRPSKyuj5_8suySIqBUEg9LBsg_XKjreWsHOdb5c9w_6SA8AKmwA_VOjEks6ppKDvxTLlByzrW5UWS6uhE8IZAHujOKWNBkY0tQMYEA5Sywe4gWjfPZk/s320/IMG_5819.JPG" /></a> </div>
We got there later than is ideal for bird watching, but we were able to see some. We learned that many species now don’t come to the lake anymore. A major part has to do with the contamination (it’s quite bad) and another factor has to do with the changes in climate that we are experiencing. It’s one thing to hear about the changes but it’s another to actually see, hear and smell them.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii9yFMK-WgrTUc3VUi3hZltf9sDPR4CEHIQYn_bJ0t_Reg3032B25dc_oDK1qJJkUEUf-Vky7RlE3mpDoYTplPTvPKvE4FOQZ9xKfsboT5mR4VIUtd97xgM0gttGkHxFIdBbKZNg42u0ip/s1600/IMG_5827.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii9yFMK-WgrTUc3VUi3hZltf9sDPR4CEHIQYn_bJ0t_Reg3032B25dc_oDK1qJJkUEUf-Vky7RlE3mpDoYTplPTvPKvE4FOQZ9xKfsboT5mR4VIUtd97xgM0gttGkHxFIdBbKZNg42u0ip/s320/IMG_5827.JPG" /></a> </div>The kids participated in a drawing competition and in the end everyone went home with a little backpack with goodies inside. They really enjoyed being at the lake and learning about the birds and we made up over half the people there so both the planners of the event and we were happy. Making my parents proud, I made sure the kids all said thank you at the end!.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit42IrdN-u_YjGy93nRXCI2fNPA2j0cVMbTlOIjZCYo3ShZU3mPt2RwTxJujGWEriE1VJTQz8pZjcGvAcy0FiEYSUEOPxRBCOn37xei2VYY-P93WpTCNMqyGcU8yIheZ8RIdeWx4-jjvJF/s1600/IMG_5830.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit42IrdN-u_YjGy93nRXCI2fNPA2j0cVMbTlOIjZCYo3ShZU3mPt2RwTxJujGWEriE1VJTQz8pZjcGvAcy0FiEYSUEOPxRBCOn37xei2VYY-P93WpTCNMqyGcU8yIheZ8RIdeWx4-jjvJF/s320/IMG_5830.JPG" /></a> </div>
5 Things I’m thankful for today: meetings that are productive; jumping rope; pictures of the kids in my extended family which remind me of them; warm blankets at night; access to delicious exotic fruits like maracuyá.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-1028799988972497582012-03-19T12:23:00.003-07:002012-03-19T12:31:45.026-07:00Carnaval en BoliviaWe all know how the stores in the United States thrive on holidays to sell us more things and just can’t wait to start advertising the next holiday before the upcoming one has even finished? Well here in Bolivia I was reminded of that with the transition between Christmas and Carnaval, which is the time leading up to Lent. This year’s Carnaval festivities were different from the past two years because I spent them more locally with smaller groups of people in work and neighborhood settings. <br /><br />At the Social Center, on the Friday before Ash Wednesday there was a group effort to make enough food for 40 people to having overflowing lunch bowls, blow up lots of balloons, decorate with streamers and confetti etc. After several hours of preparation, a group of workers and volunteers of the Social Center got together for a group-singing of “coplas” which are like poems put to music, with repeated verses, and they are often silly or make fun of people, sometimes flirtatious, and also are ways to comment on social injustices in a more indirect way. When marginalized people don’t normally have an opportunity to express the struggles they faced, coplas were acceptable ways to do that. The idea is mainly to focus on strengthening relationships within the community. <br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUW9KzV__iv9MEeHadu3twuhTpFjw6OQRJ0vSBuLocxS2R6TDfH-a_OoVe657roUb6rlcJzCCtcoaK3RjHX0NCaKPhJTTvKDxJTszFJ7qGPQvnvu9gRJjMNIAtij0dHaddVc0pzHJp0yh/s1600/IMG_5453.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUW9KzV__iv9MEeHadu3twuhTpFjw6OQRJ0vSBuLocxS2R6TDfH-a_OoVe657roUb6rlcJzCCtcoaK3RjHX0NCaKPhJTTvKDxJTszFJ7qGPQvnvu9gRJjMNIAtij0dHaddVc0pzHJp0yh/s320/IMG_5453.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYY51JayU-nLtiz5JAPSTFig1QtmnugTZPfK5Ef_MKy-IRGOa2sAvZEsBAtLq67vqz4JJWApCXWSCPJl0PxgrjzJDfKQz49tdnn2MYrmx_VnrAwI36tr5slE-7NvEKzuASSRqvYhGhuvvu/s1600/IMG_5452.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYY51JayU-nLtiz5JAPSTFig1QtmnugTZPfK5Ef_MKy-IRGOa2sAvZEsBAtLq67vqz4JJWApCXWSCPJl0PxgrjzJDfKQz49tdnn2MYrmx_VnrAwI36tr5slE-7NvEKzuASSRqvYhGhuvvu/s320/IMG_5452.JPG" /></a> </div>Traditionally, the Anata is an Andean celebration that occurs at the time of the rainy season and the first harvests, which also coincides with Carnaval. It is a celebration of Thanksgiving for the harvest that the community has been given and asking for blessing that the next year be a prosperous one for the community or social group with whom you celebrate Carnaval.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bt5BJdHLigiEBvIDqRaniDuBwDaWRpWTbSXz1f2n22Oan0K_n2ibXANH1oqbm_R0wh3RlW1D7D-mC4lSEkDiBdiglBumTUTEtkhS2Z3MvF9JZ3aTAjVeuv6NWL-J6oGNXsPQrTfPd1jT/s1600/IMG_5454.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bt5BJdHLigiEBvIDqRaniDuBwDaWRpWTbSXz1f2n22Oan0K_n2ibXANH1oqbm_R0wh3RlW1D7D-mC4lSEkDiBdiglBumTUTEtkhS2Z3MvF9JZ3aTAjVeuv6NWL-J6oGNXsPQrTfPd1jT/s320/IMG_5454.JPG" /></a> </div>We stood and sang many coplas about our group of people involved in the Social Center and of course there was dancing involved and a lot of laughter. Once we finished singing each person took a small cup of rubbing alcohol and a handful of a very colorful mixture of confetti, pieces of fruit and little sugar candies. The meaning behind the different parts of this confetti mixture have to do with the friendship and the joy it brings us, that our relationships be filled with sweetness and not bitterness, and all the colors representing the joys of life. With our alcohol and confetti in hand we went around the center sprinkling each and asking God for blessings in all areas of our work and for all the people who come through the social center.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYB6w1vBqwm4A4LPlzYhjKGHUm67ewnFi7_AZhFhBjYNmKwS3ze3jr9GgbAIvpnaV8pcz1zkxpOpXRWRvaeNwC0Y5CEgsUdoySUQnXuPO3Mn8jcX0l6mKScsKq2r1JovJuKx3fj8UxiIB/s1600/IMG_5458.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYB6w1vBqwm4A4LPlzYhjKGHUm67ewnFi7_AZhFhBjYNmKwS3ze3jr9GgbAIvpnaV8pcz1zkxpOpXRWRvaeNwC0Y5CEgsUdoySUQnXuPO3Mn8jcX0l6mKScsKq2r1JovJuKx3fj8UxiIB/s320/IMG_5458.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-5BP0PwqY5GsGBo3YE54hJDbhExJ1QO0Uaxs4cFdBCycfcPtXdx-Mw889XxgeqJV8QlHPKvIsI5-UBXA1TZ39DpH0mYNoM0gbb_zCkVb8V4JfIQE2UDcfjzDqaysb6OyBfych3Zp8iYJ/s1600/IMG_5459.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-5BP0PwqY5GsGBo3YE54hJDbhExJ1QO0Uaxs4cFdBCycfcPtXdx-Mw889XxgeqJV8QlHPKvIsI5-UBXA1TZ39DpH0mYNoM0gbb_zCkVb8V4JfIQE2UDcfjzDqaysb6OyBfych3Zp8iYJ/s320/IMG_5459.JPG" /></a> </div>Not very long after, the water fights began. It mostly happens between males and females but eventually turns into everyone soaking everyone. We did pause to eat lunch but not long after the mission to completely soak every person took off yet again. It is a big part of the tradition here in Carnaval and can be a lot of fun if you are prepared and willing to access that playful inner child.<br /><br />Another Carnaval celebration I was able to participate in was in a neighborhood community and involved a small parade of the kids from the neighborhood dressed up in costumes. I was taken by some of the costumes I saw including several smurfs and characters from the movie Avatar.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuIm_8YFK_BXCjeLh2mu3niUeatMsL4DmnsFO-bCpKC16f2-kp8iwBZdaIzIe-E9ESaNzP63L1t_RXAVRZ1kZkkxNU-jhlUTk4-E_Nanp3CoJ-0INY31R8-e3FhOvqG_Wwcepj61o1BvbV/s1600/IMG_5488.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuIm_8YFK_BXCjeLh2mu3niUeatMsL4DmnsFO-bCpKC16f2-kp8iwBZdaIzIe-E9ESaNzP63L1t_RXAVRZ1kZkkxNU-jhlUTk4-E_Nanp3CoJ-0INY31R8-e3FhOvqG_Wwcepj61o1BvbV/s320/IMG_5488.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyFnfJblwv5uSgZOJO59Z_fu8QS0LkQdAmqZ1-LCqWaVspfP_x0aqNYQK8w-EVfjPxAQ98vzsDKE3l0WE3V4CFuXZM6BFbC9tjEfNA0sCvOPVdlXBdRqu7yNlr-03xy125aH8r0E-3L2u/s1600/IMG_5483.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyFnfJblwv5uSgZOJO59Z_fu8QS0LkQdAmqZ1-LCqWaVspfP_x0aqNYQK8w-EVfjPxAQ98vzsDKE3l0WE3V4CFuXZM6BFbC9tjEfNA0sCvOPVdlXBdRqu7yNlr-03xy125aH8r0E-3L2u/s320/IMG_5483.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9O2Ihrtb9Y7i5dnCB07qqftUPrmrxsSqsOApvkCQgDvPhubvFC99qZuY4nu9afNPk_iXwNn8LIHVFpbNGSys-7bDwwid31AqsnMWTiy32j9WUo3QRpBvbWjCWt7ttutW90DTpxTi5eMj/s1600/IMG_5485.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9O2Ihrtb9Y7i5dnCB07qqftUPrmrxsSqsOApvkCQgDvPhubvFC99qZuY4nu9afNPk_iXwNn8LIHVFpbNGSys-7bDwwid31AqsnMWTiy32j9WUo3QRpBvbWjCWt7ttutW90DTpxTi5eMj/s320/IMG_5485.JPG" /></a> </div>The kids really loved dressing up, dancing around, and processing for all to see. There was also a time afterwards for the adults to sing and dance, which no one is ever too old for.<br /><br /><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOSxfGh41lCp2-lncXM1-NlVp24b32SvZCNujihpT1ryZf7sfszyVGUxOTxYrMV-EMKdOU44TbpjbgH4he7XvswEdjAPoj2-NTULIg2MdLg7NkYDVffWzRRRizPc_0KQpwylvfpw2LAbF/s1600/IMG_5492.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOSxfGh41lCp2-lncXM1-NlVp24b32SvZCNujihpT1ryZf7sfszyVGUxOTxYrMV-EMKdOU44TbpjbgH4he7XvswEdjAPoj2-NTULIg2MdLg7NkYDVffWzRRRizPc_0KQpwylvfpw2LAbF/s320/IMG_5492.JPG" /></a> </div>While I did not participate in a any big parades, I got a more personal community experience of Carnaval this year, and I enjoyed it very much. Of course there are positive and negative sides to Carnaval, but I try to not lose sight of the original intentions of the celebrations and gatherings—thankfulness, re-establishing right relationships with each other and with the land, building community, and preparing for a time of renovation during Lent.<br /><br />For more pictures, please go to<br />http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/MarchBlog2012?authkey=Gv1sRgCL-aj821_ci6jAE#"></a><br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: meeting fascinating people who humbly share their incredible stories with me; our beautiful aphid-free broccoli in the garden, thanks to a homemade chamomile spray; watching little kids dance; my dad, since today is Father’s Day here in Bolivia; and the examples of solidarity and radical love set by people like Luis Espinal and Oscar Romero, who were both assassinated this week 32 years ago.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-69056378311698849962012-01-30T08:52:00.000-08:002012-01-30T10:31:56.224-08:00Life lessons from a Mexican and a Man in a wheel chair<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFkvxWmtiO3zZKuQEpDC-2aCMY7eR9oGn0hjF2oQzTpbU7Vmn5WRlE7k74u6ohIUr4GLGF8BNH91oYiWqt1Mc1aTX409u8b1YkOSdoTSNEW89ffududiZYrYGXBrG4Zv-p_Rp3rFhTdY2X/s1600/IMG_3157.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFkvxWmtiO3zZKuQEpDC-2aCMY7eR9oGn0hjF2oQzTpbU7Vmn5WRlE7k74u6ohIUr4GLGF8BNH91oYiWqt1Mc1aTX409u8b1YkOSdoTSNEW89ffududiZYrYGXBrG4Zv-p_Rp3rFhTdY2X/s320/IMG_3157.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Recently I have been taught or re-reminded of what the important things in life are, and by two very different people. I don’t know if any of you have ever read articles by a newspaper journalist in Mexico by the name of Catón or Armando Fuentes Aguirre, but a coworker passed along to me an article of his in response to an edition of Fortune magazine in which the world´s richest people are listed. The original article is in Spanish, but I have translated it roughly into English, not claiming to be exact, but close enough that you get the idea. Here it is…<br /><br />"I intend to sue the magazine "Fortune", because I was the victim of an inexplicable omission. The magazine published a list of the world's richest people, and in this list they did not show me. They listed people such as the Sultan deBrunei, and even the heirs of Sam Walton and Takichiro Mori. They also include personalities like Queen Elizabeth of England, Stavros Niarkos, and the Mexican Carlos Slim and Emilio Azcarraga.<br /><br />But I am not mentioned in the magazine.<br /><br />And I'm a rich man, immensely rich. And if not, then look: I have life, which I received and do not know why, and health, which I maintain but I do not know how.<br />I have a family; an adorable wife who in giving her life to me, she became the best part of mine; wonderful children who have given me nothing but happiness; grandchildren with whom I practice a new and joyful form of parenting.<br /><br />I have brothers who are like my friends, and friends who are like my brothers.<br />I have people who sincerely love me despite my faults, and people I honestly love despite my own shortcomings.<br /><br />I have four editors each day to thank because they read what I write poorly and make it into something good.<br /><br />I have a house, and in it many books (my wife would say I have many books, and among them a house).<br /><br />I have a bit of the world in the form of a garden that every year gives me apples that would have further shortened the presence of Adam and Eve in Paradise.<br /><br />I have a dog that will not sleep until I come home and who treats me as if I were the owner of the heavens and the earth.<br /><br />I have eyes that see and ears that can hear; feet for walking and hands that can touch; a brain that thinks of things that have already occurred to others, but for me they are brand new.<br /><br />I own the common inheritance of men: happiness for sharing and enjoying, and sorrows that unite me with others who are also suffering.<br /><br />And I have faith in God who loves me infinitely.<br /><br />Can there be greater riches than mine?<br /><br />Why, then did the magazine "Fortune" not put my name in the list of the richest men on the planet? "<br />And you, how do you consider yourself? Rich or poor?<br />There are poor people, so poor that the only thing they have is...MONEY"<br /><br />For those of you Spanish speakers,I am listing the original article at the end of this entry, which is of course written better. I really appreciated the way Catón challenged the concept of richness in a creative, amusing and relatable way. It is true, that no matter who we are, how dirty our feet are, what job we have or don’t have, there is a common experience in all our lives of joys and sorrows; we all have them.<br /> <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUBjDdVZUPYy0MyacAJLa4W-rpI91zSasHm6PevnQm806Q4GyxCu8ab11s3kgd-eDEbeFtj-KSsShnigPCsBXXNzfcLX7YSoU6yx0eyAP5li_obnDp-soP4_4kqVwiGfAq_8CyH75wlVt/s1600/IMG_3356.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUBjDdVZUPYy0MyacAJLa4W-rpI91zSasHm6PevnQm806Q4GyxCu8ab11s3kgd-eDEbeFtj-KSsShnigPCsBXXNzfcLX7YSoU6yx0eyAP5li_obnDp-soP4_4kqVwiGfAq_8CyH75wlVt/s320/IMG_3356.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>It took a Bolivian man to demonstrate to me an example of what I think is the most beautiful part of this ¨common inheritance¨ of joys and sorrows, and that is SHARING them. For the past two months or so, there have been a group of other-abled people camped outside the office of the Franciscan Movement of Justice and Peace. <br /><br />The group ranges from people of the third generation to teenagers and little kids, all of whom have some sort of disability or are a close family member of someone who does. They are there in support of another group marching to La Paz, asking that the government follow through on providing social services or support for people with disabilities, in the form of money. The government says they are using the money in other ways to support them and they do not have enough to give financial support to everyone. <br /><br />So each day that I go to Justice and Peace to work, I pass by and greet the people camped out in vigil there. Just the other day I was leaving and a man in a wheel chair called out to me. I turned around and went back to where he was sitting with a bucket in his lap. He put his hand in and pulled out a heaping portion of grapes and as he handed them to me said, “Of all the things I’ve learned in my life, I know that whatever we have, however small, we must share with others”.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBubNcW4a1BIxP98z8LATRK8jJfTcDBSKnmBnFXrA9hCbOdxjwdcY_r6P8uzA3xxg3wMWV_ex6Ky9sEDRJjrrDbIipim-Qha2Kv-4cnW4jWv8WZvjx4zVJMPOW6mwRSYVX6Gk2ZailPmrO/s1600/IMG_3094.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBubNcW4a1BIxP98z8LATRK8jJfTcDBSKnmBnFXrA9hCbOdxjwdcY_r6P8uzA3xxg3wMWV_ex6Ky9sEDRJjrrDbIipim-Qha2Kv-4cnW4jWv8WZvjx4zVJMPOW6mwRSYVX6Gk2ZailPmrO/s320/IMG_3094.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I smiled at him and thanked him very much. I am not sure which provokes which: the joy that one has motivates them to share it with others, or the act of sharing brings both people joy? Either way, I was touched by his random act of kindness and I agree that sharing is one of the greatest most uniting acts, whether we share our sorrows or our joys, our abundance or our scarcity.<br /><br />Artículo de Armando Fuentes Aguirre (Catón)<br />Me propongo demandar a la revista "Fortune", pues me hizo víctima de una omisión inexplicable. Resulta que publicó la lista de los hombres más ricos del planeta, y en esta lista no aparezco yo. Aparecen, sí, el sultán deBrunei, aparecen también los herederos de Sam Walton y Takichiro Mori.<br /><br />Figuran ahí también personalidades como la Reina Isabel de Inglaterra, Stavros Niarkos, y los mexicanos Carlos Slim y Emilio Azcárraga. <br />Sin embargo a mí no me menciona la revista.<br />Y yo soy un hombre rico, inmensamente rico. Y si no, vean ustedes: tengo vida, que recibí no sé por qué, y salud, que conservo no sé cómo.<br />Tengo una familia, esposa adorable que al entregarme su vida me dio lo mejor de la mía; hijos maravillosos de quienes no he recibido sino felicidad; nietos con los cuales ejerzo una nueva y gozosa paternidad.<br /><br />Tengo hermanos que son como mis amigos, y amigos que son como mis hermanos.<br />Tengo gente que me ama con sinceridad a pesar de mis defectos, y a la que yo amo con sinceridad a pesar de mis defectos.<br /><br />Tengo cuatro lectores a los que cada día les doy gracias porque leen bien lo que yo escribo mal.<br /><br />Tengo una casa, y en ella muchos libros (mi esposa diría que tengo muchos libros, y entre ellos una casa).<br /><br />Poseo un pedacito del mundo en la forma de un huerto que cada año me da manzanas que habrían acortado aun más la presencia de Adán y Eva en el Paraíso.<br /><br />Tengo un perro que no se va a dormir hasta que llego, y que me recibe como si fuera yo el dueño de los cielos y la tierra.<br /><br />Tengo ojos que ven y oídos que oyen; pies que caminan y manos que acarician; cerebro que piensa cosas que a otros se les habían ocurrido ya, pero que a mí no se me habían ocurrido nunca.<br /><br />Soy dueño de la común herencia de los hombres: alegrías para disfrutarlas y penas para hermanarme a los que sufren.<br /><br />Y tengo fe en Dios que guarda para mí infinito amor.<br /><br />¿Puede haber mayores riquezas que las mías?<br /><br />¿Por qué, entonces, no me puso la revista "Fortune" en la lista de los hombres más ricos del planeta?"<br />¿Y tú, cómo te consideras? ¿Rico o pobre?<br />HAY GENTE POBRE, PERO TAN POBRE, QUE LO ÚNICO QUE TIENE ES... DINERO.<br /><br />5 Things I am grateful for today: opportunity to share lunch with a friend; recovery of a Franciscan friend; fresh smelling clean clothes; pictures of my cousins´kids that make me happy whenever I look at them; getting running water back.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-43406459397410176232012-01-05T19:06:00.000-08:002012-01-05T19:34:42.121-08:00December, the month of gatheringsDecember has been a great month, full of gatherings for celebration and for mourning. The month started out with several deaths both here in Cochabamba and at home in Virginia, so there was a lot of sadness but also a whole lot of comforting and accompanying. One thing I admire about the rituals around death here in Bolivia is the immediate care and tending-to that friends and family provide. In addition to the wake taking place normally the same day as the death and the burial the day after, there is a mass 9 days after the death (for people who are Catholic) to again come together and honor the person’s life and comfort their loved ones.<br /><br />While I was not present with my family for the death of my grandpa, I was there in spirit and was amazed at how much people came together to comfort my extended family—thank you to those of you who were there! The unity and caring for one another that comes out of experiences of loss shows me the beauty of the human spirit, and that is something we cannot forget. Not ever.<br /><br />There were also many birthdays in December and here in Bolivia, a girl’s 15th birthday is particularly special because it marks the transition into a new phase of life. Not everyone likes to have a big party (fiesta de quince años) but some girls choose to celebrate with lots of people and beautiful dresses etc. One of the girls who has been staying at the Social Center recovering from bad burns, asked me to be the “madrina de torta” for her 15th birthday party. What does that mean? I would provide the cake for her party. I’ve made a cake before with some of the kids from the center and since we’ve known each other for quite a while now and have a good relationship, I agreed, thinking it would be for maybe 15 or 20 people. I was mistaken…later I found out that up to 70 people were expected, and being stubborn in wanting to make the cake instead of buying it, I had quite an experience of being madrina!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-80WhF5etYkJ-207PKqimmv9ZF_-7t-35xinYBQUNWCnqA0vbJw80V4Kl6Br0JneI094iqOduVOV6qs5nRM_RiBPHHd_dNo21UtdE5A1vsfMhcAU3pmUCa3uGF34CaJ0CApEU6yk_25j/s1600/IMG_5359.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-80WhF5etYkJ-207PKqimmv9ZF_-7t-35xinYBQUNWCnqA0vbJw80V4Kl6Br0JneI094iqOduVOV6qs5nRM_RiBPHHd_dNo21UtdE5A1vsfMhcAU3pmUCa3uGF34CaJ0CApEU6yk_25j/s320/IMG_5359.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1O-g9-f-5X0Y43CyLJzmWgZnaToUH-0w-XOgOqqOj5ImsZzhjfWRi2GbVgurkSN5nwqS0OZvJPPZOVfRGqkWIlDW4uj90V_wHCNmQjWhU5dK0yLC7Nw5HwGH2bAVEJaD_hgnz71e_WKzc/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1O-g9-f-5X0Y43CyLJzmWgZnaToUH-0w-XOgOqqOj5ImsZzhjfWRi2GbVgurkSN5nwqS0OZvJPPZOVfRGqkWIlDW4uj90V_wHCNmQjWhU5dK0yLC7Nw5HwGH2bAVEJaD_hgnz71e_WKzc/s320/IMG_5350.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Three of the kids helped me out a lot with the cake and in the end it all worked out, but what a labor of love it was. I was so happy though to see her all dressed up in her fancy dresses, surrounded by people who clearly admired her courage for continuing to live her life and overcome adversities daily. The reason she is here is that she got electrocuted one day herding sheep. The electric company had not properly protected the cables and she stuck her stick into the grass and struck the cable which knocked her out completely and made her lose her arm and parts of her toes, among other complications. She continues to play basketball whenever I take them to the court and is definitely enjoying being a teenager. She teaches me that when the unexpected takes something away from you, that doesn’t mean that life ends there, rather you adjust and continue on.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhotNOiwMiaOBIl7zg1gFa8WozEMtIE22ulZDwJhYDz7erPlu2fhydJv2_6T4OQ6P-uHX0s7R73B1l2Qu00TjuR1geEg7Gq_mq7Qbq_UqkTqommdgOSQG7nLna3k6Qv42QRGYh3pGsUj1P4/s1600/IMG_5368.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhotNOiwMiaOBIl7zg1gFa8WozEMtIE22ulZDwJhYDz7erPlu2fhydJv2_6T4OQ6P-uHX0s7R73B1l2Qu00TjuR1geEg7Gq_mq7Qbq_UqkTqommdgOSQG7nLna3k6Qv42QRGYh3pGsUj1P4/s320/IMG_5368.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Since it is the end of the year we went out with the group of volunteers of the radio program sponsored by Franciscans International-Bolivia, “Onda Verde” as a thank-you for their service. It was nice to be able to celebrate the 41 programs we put on in this year 2011. Here is a picture of almost all of us from Onda Verde.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79c2R2L25bVNjTQoWe9Guf3UC-N_GdzK6pLkEPNCnXCMzzgbbF5bwa6a6Gq12seF4EoeWfuYGX15J0iao2SEkrQw6_iUJgfCL4qtoazca00o8N_mkijPT55WRYLQrwm2IUZD75sB-XYg3/s1600/IMG_5309.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79c2R2L25bVNjTQoWe9Guf3UC-N_GdzK6pLkEPNCnXCMzzgbbF5bwa6a6Gq12seF4EoeWfuYGX15J0iao2SEkrQw6_iUJgfCL4qtoazca00o8N_mkijPT55WRYLQrwm2IUZD75sB-XYg3/s320/IMG_5309.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Three months ago we started a second radio program in conjunction with Maryknoll, in which we talk about social and environmental issues. The show is called “Pulso” and is in a different radio station, Pio XII. Here is a picture of us in the studio.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgwgMe6FL3S0u1oUf-IHHc_-qr6hR1mnTGVGoP1ZUkHUHm3nvm3CMP9zKdP_YHqAUKDpGpUo-XsQEJ7fThOERs013mZa4D0StBkTCHKIfeQiG0H1JxhYEzwTQyEg_C0HD7Tj5zwp7Z8MX/s1600/IMG_5315.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgwgMe6FL3S0u1oUf-IHHc_-qr6hR1mnTGVGoP1ZUkHUHm3nvm3CMP9zKdP_YHqAUKDpGpUo-XsQEJ7fThOERs013mZa4D0StBkTCHKIfeQiG0H1JxhYEzwTQyEg_C0HD7Tj5zwp7Z8MX/s320/IMG_5315.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Being December, we also had many Christmas celebrations, one taking place at the final soup kitchen Saturday lunch of the year. There were over 200 visitors for lunch, and beforehand there was an enactment of the Nativity story by the guests and we also had a carol singing competition between the boys, girls, women and men. It was fun to watch how some people got really into it, and even I got to learn the songs and dance around in a circle with the girls.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywOpwqOXy6PIW2H7_yYMHhZ4KWxjENvNg6LOoazM_8rlsf3_jgDorXu3tJZM4XTDJNDecTaEJW7MI3s2pDQRBS0EFJD9LwAOuPucuwmYnInCDESadn4qLKoVm9St3VzeH3yXmBHMmfoRU/s1600/IMG_5379.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywOpwqOXy6PIW2H7_yYMHhZ4KWxjENvNg6LOoazM_8rlsf3_jgDorXu3tJZM4XTDJNDecTaEJW7MI3s2pDQRBS0EFJD9LwAOuPucuwmYnInCDESadn4qLKoVm9St3VzeH3yXmBHMmfoRU/s320/IMG_5379.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWattyDnmUh5SQivBhcc_2PcmkZzPZYvsX94LcaV0IKDkkl5F2lNQHY_OBLvX9Thl6e5oVzvfYjXto1hQN9fFJVCA_uAg8i78X_qKL98xEdRMxu1xsgXQxI9EHJ6LKNBHm-ecIOOzkG6t/s1600/IMG_5390.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWattyDnmUh5SQivBhcc_2PcmkZzPZYvsX94LcaV0IKDkkl5F2lNQHY_OBLvX9Thl6e5oVzvfYjXto1hQN9fFJVCA_uAg8i78X_qKL98xEdRMxu1xsgXQxI9EHJ6LKNBHm-ecIOOzkG6t/s320/IMG_5390.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kDpZMIF_cTPstRfCtGLY8hvkjwd0kCVk9m6p4JNiygyfFBVtVaXN-c0aJrj-Za-nunDcO3ZHNT6X_iUMD3HcYG9I8k_d7_xizPukfiuhpTlpm1XPEbpC2KW0SHDAD-GsSHALeQCrOUZT/s1600/IMG_5376.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kDpZMIF_cTPstRfCtGLY8hvkjwd0kCVk9m6p4JNiygyfFBVtVaXN-c0aJrj-Za-nunDcO3ZHNT6X_iUMD3HcYG9I8k_d7_xizPukfiuhpTlpm1XPEbpC2KW0SHDAD-GsSHALeQCrOUZT/s320/IMG_5376.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Here is a picture of “Mary” and “Baby Jesus”.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zUvofGDvcOC4OIeMK-wd9nA-IHAc_14IiqONMUMt1iDgO8wY31wAa7rFdnHzvuRDoLnb3oeT40KNN3O8afoSIWzFc3GS88ixJKH5T9EoHJOD4Jrp3oCD4tkssyYKAk0_uSPtd9VDWAyW/s1600/IMG_5385.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zUvofGDvcOC4OIeMK-wd9nA-IHAc_14IiqONMUMt1iDgO8wY31wAa7rFdnHzvuRDoLnb3oeT40KNN3O8afoSIWzFc3GS88ixJKH5T9EoHJOD4Jrp3oCD4tkssyYKAk0_uSPtd9VDWAyW/s320/IMG_5385.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>One of the Christmas traditions in Bolivia is dancing before the baby Jesus in the Nativity set, which I had been hearing about since last year but never actually seen. This year I got the opportunity to watch both kids and adults gather from the neighborhood and while some were drinking hot chocolate and eating buñuelos, others were playfully dancing and bringing each other before the baby Jesus. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2_AoyE0XxlkIMDhbxO807EBHNDUWqHoz4u7lVyFUHByCwFDhfiQaimVQnJOweQ8ZFQjgIwW7J1-TMnp4qHF8Peb68T4pmUvja4i5Yb8dpfbeqV4G70kWP3RNtUiwRoMVRONNP5PxbLfWL/s1600/IMG_5412.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2_AoyE0XxlkIMDhbxO807EBHNDUWqHoz4u7lVyFUHByCwFDhfiQaimVQnJOweQ8ZFQjgIwW7J1-TMnp4qHF8Peb68T4pmUvja4i5Yb8dpfbeqV4G70kWP3RNtUiwRoMVRONNP5PxbLfWL/s320/IMG_5412.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kBl9087fwG3KH-tRHl_-R0LLpXka2PWD9P4TYGhJj8nU8CmOR47T08RT2uaTllK9oMxQNhGaxengHtgu3-CxgrbjfceaOWMKhgD81MBzn5LNtYmvIwiNqjLZlCA80IuIR8724phFd59f/s1600/IMG_5409.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kBl9087fwG3KH-tRHl_-R0LLpXka2PWD9P4TYGhJj8nU8CmOR47T08RT2uaTllK9oMxQNhGaxengHtgu3-CxgrbjfceaOWMKhgD81MBzn5LNtYmvIwiNqjLZlCA80IuIR8724phFd59f/s320/IMG_5409.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>It was so different than anything I had seen before, because the kids were not surrounded by toys as I usually see on Christmas morning, rather playing together and dancing with the focus being Jesus. A Christmas tradition I find a lot of value in and am grateful to have been a part of.<br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: health; safety of my loved ones; dancing; the new babies in-formation that will join my extended family this year; the hospitality of friends.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-76286837597443828402011-11-28T10:46:00.000-08:002011-11-28T10:54:33.581-08:00The Dump, Re-visitedIt was early on a Sunday morning with the Cochabamba sun shining brightly, and as we bumped along in a VW bug up and around and up some more I was anxious to arrive at our destination. With my composting and gardening partners we offered to meet with a group of neighbors who live right next to the dump of Cochabamba, in order to share with them the idea and how-to of composting and gardening with reused tires. I already appreciated where they live because of the long route to get there, but I would come to be truly surprised the more I listened to them talk about their neighborhood.<br /><br />Unusual for us, we arrived a half hour earlier than planned but there were already 20 people or so waiting, as we were taking advantage of a time when they planned to meet to sign up for bug exterminations of their homes. While waiting for our agreed-upon time to roll around, I started chatting with a gentleman who was there with one of his grandkids. He asked if we were people who worked with environmental issues and I explained what we were there to do. To which he responded that simply living right next to the dump has exposed them to many environmental problems on a daily basis.<br /><br />Apparently in the afternoon when the sun is very hot and the wind blows, the smell is so bad “it causes you to almost pass out”. He pointed out an elementary school to me and asked how can we expect the kids to learn well and become productive adults if they are inhaling such awful air every day? According to this gentleman the subterranean water is very contaminated and is used by people there in addition to watering crops down below. I do not know specific facts from any lab tests but he said it is ugly and smells bad, which are not good signs of healthy water. Would you want your family living in a neighborhood with that type of water?<br /><br />Just that morning, while walking to the meeting, he noticed a For Sale sign on his neighbor’s home and asked why they were moving and they told him that they just cannot stand it anymore and have to get away from the dump. This got him thinking and now he is wondering whether he should move his family as well. When I asked if the dump was there when they arrived he told me it was, so in a way I can see how one would say, “but you knew the dump was there”. However, the gentleman explained to me that there used to be a different company in charge of caring for the dump and there weren’t bad smells and things were in order, but now that there is a different company in command, the problems have developed and grown worse with time.<br /><br />As Thanksgiving has just passed, I would like to say how thankful I am to have running water where I live, and that I only have to boil it to drink it. There are many Bolivians who do not have running water in their homes or whose water is delivered in trucks and costs 10 times more than people who live in a different part of town have to pay to get their water. It makes me sad that something such as water, which is a human right, is not treated with the respect it deserves nor distributed fairly. Thank you God for water!!!<br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: catching up with a good friend over lunch; leftover Thanksgiving food; hearing my grandpa say he loves me; my dear cousin whose birthday is today; dancing with my friend’s grandpa who is one of the most joyful dancers I’ve ever come across.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-29610474473885065222011-11-21T10:46:00.000-08:002011-11-21T10:50:39.477-08:00SolidarityOnly recently have I come to see the depth of what this word attempts to convey here in Bolivia. I will explain with two stories. Just in the past month the cousin of a friend got sick with horrible stomach pains and vomiting and was hospitalized for quite a while because they could not figure out what she has. One day they told the family she had HIV and then the next said it was a false positive. They tested her for everything and gave her all types of drugs, which as many know who’ve been through aggressive treatment is very tough on the poor sick body, but also on the family. She’s been temporarily blind, she’s had paralysis, she’s not been able to talk, and the day that was the toughest was when they put her into an induced coma. I give this background to give you a picture of the rollercoaster ride their family has been going through. As it turns out, she has been diagnosed with chronic porphyria, <a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/001208.htm">http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/001208.htm</a> , and it is the only known case in South America. This week she goes to Buenos Aires, Argentina, where they hope she can get better care.<br /><br />Because really good medical care is awfully expensive, they decided on a Friday night to put together an event the next day to raise money. I arrived around 3pm and the street on which the family lives was already filled with TONS of people, umbrellas and shades to protect them from the hot sun while they sat at plastic tables eating, drinking and talking. Later on in the afternoon a musical group came to perform and then someone acted as a dj and played music on loud speakers for dancing. It was packed, and yet the many extended family members made their way to talk with everyone they knew and welcomed me in with open arms. I wish I could find words to describe what it was like watching everyone. They came together on short notice but they were THERE because they love and support the cousin/niece/friend. The reason for coming together was tragic but there was such a feeling of support and joy and love in the way they shared and passed the day. People stayed almost all day until night had come, and they kept sharing and sharing.<br /><br />Several people said to me that solidarity is very important, and even though Bolivia may be a poor country, people come together when the occasion arises. “Do you have events like this in the United States? Probably not quite like this, or do you?” someone asked me. I said that I had never been to a get-together of solidarity in this manner before, but that I come from a family and a community of friends that is very giving and looks out for one another. However, I had to admit that it is different, there’s a different manner of expressing one’s “solidarity”. This particular event was very communal and accepting, which I think is what made it so special for me to witness and be a part of.<br /><br />The day before yesterday was the climax of the yearly national tele-marathon which is going to benefit 5 institutions who serve kids who are other-abled and lack economic resources to assist them. A good friend of mine works at one of these institutions so I’ve been hearing a lot about and it really is remarkable the money that people give. Yet, I don’t perceive that giving money specifically defines solidarity, rather the point is giving of yourself, giving of what you have that is not of your excess simply because someone else is in need at this moment.<br /><br />I am beginning to see how solidarity is an important thread in the weaving of what I like to think of as Bolivian culture and identity. Personally, any time I feel like I can identify one of the many threads in this weaving, I feel a sense of gratefulness and I am honored. The culture of a people is complex, deeply rooted in many different stories and lives, and to get to know even parts of that culture is a gift.<br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: good smelling clean clothes; ability to run around the lake; being accepted and welcomed by the family of my friend; witnessing the collaboration and support people give each other in times of need; the long-desired rains we’re starting to get.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-23112057499208136762011-10-19T08:11:00.000-07:002011-10-19T09:28:43.367-07:00The March Reaches its destination TODAYToday marks day 65 of the Indigenous March from the Amazon to La Paz, where the Bolivian government resides (although the capital is actually Sucre) and very worn, tired, affected by the high altitude, but perseverant the march continues to its end today. A lot has happened since I last wrote and part of my hesitation to write updates is that the information changes and I’m afraid to misrepresent what is going on. <br /><br />As a recap a group of now 2,000 people from an Amazon region of Bolivia are protesting against the government, via a 65 day march, that a highway be built right through the middle of their region which has been designated a national park and protected indigenous territory (TIPNIS), and it is indicated by the grey area on the map below, which is a map of Bolivia. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZr-xMuZ1tdvw_lLwTI-8lmyD4j35_pvhg2UlXK7pm9vlE9Dw8DDWIXbiCYuYF27hb4byDOI56rQSIb2x44wNSarnW5SlghNy8lhfnmjr5QkgNABmCjjONoQqdtldkYOXQw6gBuLPAfmy/s1600/map+of+Bolivia+with+Tipnis+highlighted.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZr-xMuZ1tdvw_lLwTI-8lmyD4j35_pvhg2UlXK7pm9vlE9Dw8DDWIXbiCYuYF27hb4byDOI56rQSIb2x44wNSarnW5SlghNy8lhfnmjr5QkgNABmCjjONoQqdtldkYOXQw6gBuLPAfmy/s320/map+of+Bolivia+with+Tipnis+highlighted.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>This map is more of a close-up with the proposed route of the highway<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaoWe4SW1bldJg352gIDehRNjPK39GaQ8QV6zSDZ7jG_0Jdcd_DJcckbreL1zgbOWlb0ekiw0gEV_IBIwPbyV1Ac22QVZ6UL3wkFDkZzsnTwBn-x-mdtLRLrsa91YCUceybgu8U82Cf_5d/s1600/map+with+proposed+highway+route+through+park.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaoWe4SW1bldJg352gIDehRNjPK39GaQ8QV6zSDZ7jG_0Jdcd_DJcckbreL1zgbOWlb0ekiw0gEV_IBIwPbyV1Ac22QVZ6UL3wkFDkZzsnTwBn-x-mdtLRLrsa91YCUceybgu8U82Cf_5d/s320/map+with+proposed+highway+route+through+park.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I received some very interesting feedback from some of you, which I appreciate! One friend compared what is going on to the movie Avatar, in which economic interests to exploit natural resources face a challenge in the community who inhabit the region defending it as having more value than any money it could produce. As a side note I really enjoyed the movie and particularly appreciated the part where the character points out that the life we have is a gift and is energy borrowed that we give back when we die, implying our interdependence and the cycle that is life. I also love the Lion King for similar reasons, but back to the topic…<br /><br />Another friend noted the similarity in what is going on in TIPNIS with the situation in Alaska regarding the salmon fishery. He says an international mining company wants to grab the minerals in the water shed of Bristol Bay for so called economic stimulus of jobs, and of course creating jobs sounds good in the current state of the US, but as my friend said, we need to be careful not to be overly “self serving and short sighted”.<br /><br />While the indigenous march and the debate over whether or not building the highway through the territory will bring more positive progress than harmful consequences have been a part daily life here in Cochabamba, the atmosphere changed on September 25. The marchers were approaching an area where a group of colonizers (people who moved to the TIPNIS region generally to plant coca and other crops , and live there currently, but are not originally from there) who are supportive of the President and the highway, were waiting to block the marchers from passing. <br /><br />There are various reports on what happened but I understand that they were marching and some had stopped to eat, when the police, whose role is to keep the peace (understood as meant to keep the two groups from getting violent with each other), started detaining the marchers with force, using teargas, hitting, kicking etc. (this I saw in video footage). The marchers started running off to escape in the hillsides, but many were detained and put on a bus with tape on their mouths and some handcuffed. The idea was to put them on a plane and take them back to TIPNIS, but in the end other people came to block the runway and somehow they escaped.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic5BmRKrQFFykY3sOKn1QAi0BRgkvCKvmmB2j8drnRKDJvbdwBttXyQSli4J4P2SxJ5CSZH4i0c0nQXzWBWjVEnL0QpryF8_AoQam_znrz5RUScI4yidWMOXFU1Hf1GFFVN7rd7D8DULb/s1600/police+enfrentamiento+LOS+TIEMPOS.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic5BmRKrQFFykY3sOKn1QAi0BRgkvCKvmmB2j8drnRKDJvbdwBttXyQSli4J4P2SxJ5CSZH4i0c0nQXzWBWjVEnL0QpryF8_AoQam_znrz5RUScI4yidWMOXFU1Hf1GFFVN7rd7D8DULb/s320/police+enfrentamiento+LOS+TIEMPOS.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>There was major uproar in the country and internationally over the incident. Several ministers of the government stepped down because of it. Even after this the President Evo Morales still did not want to talk directly with the marchers and has held that position since the beginning, but TODAY he has agreed that he will talk with them! I will let you all know what happens.<br /><br />In addition to following the TIPNIS situation, I’ve been involved in the radio programs with Franciscans International and I use the plural form because now we’ve started a second radio program. In a joint effort with the Maryknoll Mission Center of Latin America, we have a new program of 30 minutes talking about both social and environmental topics. This past Saturday we talked about decolonization since the 12th of October marks the day Columbus came upon the Americas. We played the following song by Calle 13 on the show and I really like it a lot, expressing Latin American identity in a really artistic and beautiful way. Here are some of the lyrics<br /><br />Tú no puedes comprar al viento, (You cannot buy the wind)<br />Tú no puedes comprar al sol (You cannot buy the sun)<br />Tú no puedes comprar la lluvia, (You cannot buy the rain)<br />Tú no puedes comprar al calor. (You cannot buy the heat)<br />Tú no puedes comprar las nubes, (You cannot buy the clouds)<br />Tú no puedes comprar mi alegría, (You cannot buy my happiness)<br />Tú no puedes comprar mis dolores. (You cannot buy my pain)<br /><br />For those of you who are Spanish speakers, I hope you appreciate the song too <br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ii4YlzvoOZI&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ii4YlzvoOZI&feature=related</a> <br /><br />Monday was October 17th, which is the International Day of the Eradication of Poverty. We talked about this on the radio as well, because the divide between those who have enough and those who don’t is increasing. A study shows that 58% of children in Bolivia are living in poverty and 22% of those in extreme poverty. Talking about Bolivians of all ages, one report says 77% and another 60% of the population is living in poverty, which is measured based on access to basic services, education, health and quality of life. Either way, too many here and in the world.<br /><br />5 Things I am thankful for today: rest; water; considerate friends; my plants that survive despite my forgetfulness; and a fleece Redskins blanket left behind by past missioners.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-55922266900514281412011-07-25T18:14:00.000-07:002011-07-27T19:39:44.836-07:00Joy of Kids, Ecology in Tarija and Being a mis-fitAs I’ve mentioned before, what I “do” as mission doesn’t always have clear definitions and I think my living situation is one of those grey areas, but one I’m so grateful for. At the Franciscan social center where I have an apartment, there also live anywhere between 7 to 18 kids recovering from burns. They are not orphans, but their needs are greater than their parents can provide for, so they get help for whatever time necessary while staying at the social center, near physical therapy and doctors all the time.<br /><br />I try to keep clear boundaries with them, which allows for private time but also hanging out fun time together. One night a friend and I put on a movie night in my apartment, which is often what a Spaniard who also lives in the center does for the kids, but he was out of town so I stepped in. I made popcorn on the stove and we had juice and cookies too. The kids loved it and are anxiously awaiting the next one, but in the mean time we play cards or games or dance to music.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5F7Q7NANmrpLQ-5Ks9Cl9qavRwIY8YJZQICGfCEdd8ZBb0StGAAq4UvWvrQV1w_E83fWq09BYaXx5QRNQhO2qp2z_6NvT8lI982oMU1I9BQ4NneZ7dt8WbROAtRP32fVl5Yundu4v6dx/s1600/IMG_4055.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5F7Q7NANmrpLQ-5Ks9Cl9qavRwIY8YJZQICGfCEdd8ZBb0StGAAq4UvWvrQV1w_E83fWq09BYaXx5QRNQhO2qp2z_6NvT8lI982oMU1I9BQ4NneZ7dt8WbROAtRP32fVl5Yundu4v6dx/s320/IMG_4055.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I’m someone who loves hugs and also being around kids, so I really appreciate their presence and am grateful to have them as neighbors (well, most of the time…haha).<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimU7B4NXwQ1SHlRuWh_iGskvQLSrkeGLgxfGIX2RKMMncddU0ChO-KzOPFSML7O41TDsZSiKgVCIrgYQtm33ERmHCHlwuI9U4YT0PLomtvLPBazLlL4sNUcdYlVIhghwGr6rXngWc8xoDi/s1600/IMG_4047.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimU7B4NXwQ1SHlRuWh_iGskvQLSrkeGLgxfGIX2RKMMncddU0ChO-KzOPFSML7O41TDsZSiKgVCIrgYQtm33ERmHCHlwuI9U4YT0PLomtvLPBazLlL4sNUcdYlVIhghwGr6rXngWc8xoDi/s320/IMG_4047.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />Through my involvement with Franciscans International, I was invited to give my second eco-theological retreat, this time in Tarija at the beginning of June. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxDWMwKW_1Th-qfPlM3LEHedpiCCh4_e-_Kc0T2cWW5dzW3EF4VXqKdXYO0mm__qDWLnaUTtn77Q4W14HfOGdSOSwYUDB3FN0EOEce6xLKcq-kk1evU-HN1hUQHoNllelCEcxSErp1L1O/s1600/IMG_4124.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxDWMwKW_1Th-qfPlM3LEHedpiCCh4_e-_Kc0T2cWW5dzW3EF4VXqKdXYO0mm__qDWLnaUTtn77Q4W14HfOGdSOSwYUDB3FN0EOEce6xLKcq-kk1evU-HN1hUQHoNllelCEcxSErp1L1O/s320/IMG_4124.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>The idea is to talk about what is the reality of the world we’re living in, in respect to the environment, ecosystems, plants, animals, water, people etc. and how our interdependence all being part of creation calls us to pay attention to how our actions or in-actions are contributing to or lessening the goodness of all. We talked about the science and reality of the environmental situation on an international level and also in Bolivia and locally in Tarija. Christianity is in the good company of many other major faith traditions that recognize divinity or God’s presence all around us and this recognition then calls us to act accordingly, with respect and care.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTwd0llzsBjg1WFlqVgt_-8e4GXQMOkcZi7BNErdEM7YWvPWhY0kpC86NESBhOy7_PKL3iIcq52zPV6XgmSbZVNtpR4q5C9wtXSTIs8RBCSy8wYO6miyxzwJZvHRbzFl9iFEQIbQWkLCF/s1600/IMG_4128.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidTwd0llzsBjg1WFlqVgt_-8e4GXQMOkcZi7BNErdEM7YWvPWhY0kpC86NESBhOy7_PKL3iIcq52zPV6XgmSbZVNtpR4q5C9wtXSTIs8RBCSy8wYO6miyxzwJZvHRbzFl9iFEQIbQWkLCF/s320/IMG_4128.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I was surprised to find that the majority of the group were high-school students, but a lot of them really impressed me in their interest and conviction to take action in their lives and not let what they learned stay only in words. It was quite touching to hear their reflections and appreciation for our time together. I was very humbled. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCZmvZQo-RYfpkh6t2Yc3SMR2VJa7TXHP3fJQHCB3_dFLS7g2s6igzfVhYRjl__iDnNCN2vBrQpkpHyeiFtbzGbrB42ITfRYSbvW8NnyiJdqDzrenODQ-fQqUV3sCT9oaUDhnMEkQJfzZ/s1600/IMG_4143.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCZmvZQo-RYfpkh6t2Yc3SMR2VJa7TXHP3fJQHCB3_dFLS7g2s6igzfVhYRjl__iDnNCN2vBrQpkpHyeiFtbzGbrB42ITfRYSbvW8NnyiJdqDzrenODQ-fQqUV3sCT9oaUDhnMEkQJfzZ/s320/IMG_4143.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>At their own request we had a competition to see which group could pick up the most trash in an allotted time in the plaza of the small town we were staying in. I really enjoyed both the young people on the retreat and the adults who helped organize it, they were so hospitable and went out of their way to make me feel comfortable and taste the local foods and drink I wanted to try before leaving the area. It was a great experience, and I have a suspicion that more invitations to give the retreat are coming, as other members of national group of Justice and Peace seemed interested at the last meeting we had.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5F0OxS95hPzlarFv-ng1n67YPgZ3P7HUydzKEzGlpV1G4D_WRQc6KcyzJF7SNGjfVntSJsShflN1ouVrEKpJjhDGIiG-KKYiP1ZbHBthM5666TMOgt8PtNr4pQzjbt-IS5jWrmtQw3p3H/s1600/IMG_4135.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5F0OxS95hPzlarFv-ng1n67YPgZ3P7HUydzKEzGlpV1G4D_WRQc6KcyzJF7SNGjfVntSJsShflN1ouVrEKpJjhDGIiG-KKYiP1ZbHBthM5666TMOgt8PtNr4pQzjbt-IS5jWrmtQw3p3H/s320/IMG_4135.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmYtkqn7huY97gwHdfiNkP5Pl44PNyVABJenZwoTR8n3OWcu9i63Pyingomzpqo3nyMYqpKs4qcIap03B3LDDY9T8W2jWJoQ95Rv7986tPzO61lMGHzYgU8mwo-h-ipSeu7gf84AzoQpZ/s1600/IMG_4146.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmYtkqn7huY97gwHdfiNkP5Pl44PNyVABJenZwoTR8n3OWcu9i63Pyingomzpqo3nyMYqpKs4qcIap03B3LDDY9T8W2jWJoQ95Rv7986tPzO61lMGHzYgU8mwo-h-ipSeu7gf84AzoQpZ/s320/IMG_4146.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>On the note of traveling, recently I got the opportunity to return home to Virginia, where a lot of my family and many friends are. I didn’t think I would get to go back during these 3 years so it was a much appreciated visit. I got to spend time with some of my favorite people and while it helped energize me, I also felt a wave of sadness upon leaving them again. It’s such a funny place to be, because I want to be here in Bolivia, finally having built meaningful relationships and having become involved in such great initiatives and groups. Yet, at the same time my heart is divided because I want to be with people whose lives are in the United States as well.<br /><br />I’m reminded of something a Society of African Missions priest told us in our FMS training, that people in mission are forever mis-fits, never really feeling totally whole or at-place anywhere. I even felt some of that after spending 6 months in Germany while I was in college, and now it’s stronger. While saying good-bye to my immediate family in the airport (all 5 of them were there, you all are the best!) they reminded me that I’m going back to people whom I know and love, not to the complete unknown, which is how it was when I left 1 ½ years ago. So true. To combat my sadness, I thought of the dear friends I’ve made, the people I work with, and the kids recovering from burns who live with me at the Franciscan social center. I couldn’t wait to run into their open arms, waiting to hug me and then ask where was the chocolate I said I'd bring them.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTdguE6wy078A2BCHsSOQY3eNpjbrTs0ReVP7vkq_dnrF3WRPU34Q_0lJ7gU54ZyBh3LvyF4qmabdvDQGt05rI6SJHq_0KBFDlO6uTGFIAKYiDdffQJTgTGuB7mrjvpgdunOTlxujLtpv/s1600/IMG_4057.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTdguE6wy078A2BCHsSOQY3eNpjbrTs0ReVP7vkq_dnrF3WRPU34Q_0lJ7gU54ZyBh3LvyF4qmabdvDQGt05rI6SJHq_0KBFDlO6uTGFIAKYiDdffQJTgTGuB7mrjvpgdunOTlxujLtpv/s320/IMG_4057.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>To see more pictures, please go to: <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/July24Blog?authkey=Gv1sRgCL7EztXE8Lal6wE#">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/July24Blog?authkey=Gv1sRgCL7EztXE8Lal6wE#</a><br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: seeing dear friends I love very much and haven’t seen in a while; laughing really hard because of funny things my cousins’ kids say and do that I got to be present for!; spontaneous dance parties with my sisters; spending a week at the beach with lots of wonderful cousins, aunts, uncles, my immediate family and my grandpa; the people I’ve met in Bolivia who have let me in to their hearts.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-48318982665095014752011-07-20T10:44:00.000-07:002011-07-20T11:10:24.575-07:00Holy Week and Time in the CountryOne of the things I enjoy about being in another country or culture for a holiday is that I get new insights into the culture and also a new perspective on the holiday itself. While a bit delayed in recounting my second Holy Week experience in Bolivia, I would still like to share some highlights. Last year I promised a Bolivian friend of mine that in exchange for not going last year, this year I would get up for the 5am pilgrimage walk up to the Christ statue on Good Friday, and I DID! In the Catholic church, it’s customary to pray the Stations of the Cross during Lent, but especially on Good Friday as a way of remembering what Jesus went through during his suffering, death and resurrection. For those unfamiliar, there are 14 “scenes” or parts of the story that one remembers and meditates on, and we did that walking up through the hills for 2 ½ hours on Friday morning before Easter.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6AIhXCpbuNerP8dvxZji0jnD6ndqo-cLjO9-9SdWca_YHGkCVRMqS5767Q3tT1ZMdNfgHQuT74rzg6CdnkJyn9kw7q73Ta851peOT3jmrPWCcFcoTcdqs8JFreufkumn4MPIzTb2IXxzZ/s1600/IMG_3958.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6AIhXCpbuNerP8dvxZji0jnD6ndqo-cLjO9-9SdWca_YHGkCVRMqS5767Q3tT1ZMdNfgHQuT74rzg6CdnkJyn9kw7q73Ta851peOT3jmrPWCcFcoTcdqs8JFreufkumn4MPIzTb2IXxzZ/s320/IMG_3958.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>“Is it really time to go?” I mumbled groggily over the phone when my friend called to advise me he was at my door and I was still in bed…oops. I scurried out the door and we arrived at the starting point just in time, joining with a couple hundred people bundled up and ready to make the meditative walk. It was really beautiful and I’m so glad I kept my promise. To be trotting along with all these other normal everyday people from Cochabamba, even accompanied by police officers, through the street and then up the stone road with the sun slowly creeping its way over the ridges, I felt a wash of joy rush over me. “What a gift!” I said to my friend who looked at me confused. It’s difficult to describe but I felt a strong sense of gratitude for being able to be a part of this small simple tradition in Cochabamba. It was so unique and not something most foreigners get to experience, and that I was allowed to be there felt like an honor. At the top, people played and sang music and there was a small dramatization. Cochabamba has never looked so pretty to me in the morning than that day.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTElGLPTXotimIPBkJ8z6wczTAiiut8CaYRcOKaFgIDr9czAejx4YfWdACspctEauzrRIar6442cbZqh5Kaw7VavdHN6Q0fPKIwOcyIja_Rje4ODv7lWqdVxj_LGARDofkfm46Cjg2sh5/s1600/IMG_3964.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTElGLPTXotimIPBkJ8z6wczTAiiut8CaYRcOKaFgIDr9czAejx4YfWdACspctEauzrRIar6442cbZqh5Kaw7VavdHN6Q0fPKIwOcyIja_Rje4ODv7lWqdVxj_LGARDofkfm46Cjg2sh5/s320/IMG_3964.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Later that morning I was invited to spend this very family-centered day with my friend Renee’s family. While in the US, Good Friday is a day of fasting and abstinence, in Bolivia we were lightly encouraged to fast until lunch and not eat too much, but in actuality it is a feast day. There are traditionally 12 courses served, but all without meat. It’s popular to serve things like arroz con leche (a warm rice and milk dish that is sweet and yummy), or fish among many options. At my friend’s house they made a makeshift grill and grilled 2 kinds of very yummy fish, which accompanied a whole plate full of vegetables. I tried my very best to eat it all and left VERY full.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXB2iAZ4rrrythoraOxKpDAla1yuDixecv-Pj9UoKDr1dfIAOI1kSpS9-UOklkZudfZ-DFpwG9gGXLv5y8nuuCcy7btxrZHqZopYdWL43namtckTW0MT10ghliZFp1p8Scu_k1XzER0L6/s1600/IMG_3980.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXB2iAZ4rrrythoraOxKpDAla1yuDixecv-Pj9UoKDr1dfIAOI1kSpS9-UOklkZudfZ-DFpwG9gGXLv5y8nuuCcy7btxrZHqZopYdWL43namtckTW0MT10ghliZFp1p8Scu_k1XzER0L6/s320/IMG_3980.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Now while I’ve lived here now long enough to experience two Holy Weeks, I still had not been to a professional soccer game, so I finally made it to one a week after Easter. This is a view from my seat – it looks pretty doesn’t it?<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnn-_vay-OqxvIsiyvm4-OA0Q9wOL56Eocbxj24aF5Iz-YoBvVh2tUM8SoyvqPL7RZgKHzyS1z6sYmfFrYGaz2HqIkKd-HXfbu_iEWhWnBWPMzBOPgpBNwGLuYucjGE1eNC26FKGayeFmy/s1600/IMG_4014.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnn-_vay-OqxvIsiyvm4-OA0Q9wOL56Eocbxj24aF5Iz-YoBvVh2tUM8SoyvqPL7RZgKHzyS1z6sYmfFrYGaz2HqIkKd-HXfbu_iEWhWnBWPMzBOPgpBNwGLuYucjGE1eNC26FKGayeFmy/s320/IMG_4014.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>It was a lot of fun and I hope to go back again. There are two teams in Cochabamba and people are very hard-core fans! I have often seen the herds walking down the street after the games, decked out in their jerseys and hats, so I felt like I was again getting a chance to get an insider-experience of a very important part of the culture here in Cochabamba. Just like attending a baseball, football or basketball game in the US, there was a LOT of yelling, cheering and energy.<br /><br />Living in the city is convenient for events like a soccer game that I can walk to, but I sometimes wonder what my life would be like to live out in the campo (country). I got an opportunity to spend 2 separate days out in a very very small community in the country, to help out with 2 environment workshops with middle school/high school kids. I know this Peruvian sister, who has got a lot of spunk and energy, both for poor people in rural areas and for the environment so our common interests connected us and she asked me to help her out with this workshop she’d planned. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKNiBl_p72y8FQwCFteRQtBHiBw6uoJ9V4l0NHYWDxvgePTNtoA07USlivpev6BCRaLkzsFx0wEOukmGlPrYEz5ypV16ZQEDSiaIiQUkWBFagmTIDH0JG0fPtvhZUrH1BWSWv0B5yffgk/s1600/IMG_4038.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKNiBl_p72y8FQwCFteRQtBHiBw6uoJ9V4l0NHYWDxvgePTNtoA07USlivpev6BCRaLkzsFx0wEOukmGlPrYEz5ypV16ZQEDSiaIiQUkWBFagmTIDH0JG0fPtvhZUrH1BWSWv0B5yffgk/s320/IMG_4038.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>One day we talked about paper, deforestation, littering and recycling because it’s very common, even there in the country, to rip out pieces of notebook paper and throw them on the ground, and then in the river. I was struck by how shy the girls were, much more so than the girls I know through the afterschool programs in the southern zone of the city of Cochabamba. The boys were usually the ones who volunteered to answer questions or just would by default because even when prompted and encouraged, many girls just refused to talk. I tried my best to encourage them, making it not a big deal, and trying to make a fool of myself so they wouldn’t feel so shy, but I think the social upbringing is quite powerful in this respect. It made me so grateful to have grown up in Girl Scouts where I was taught self-empowerment and encouraged to take risks.<br /><br />The second time I went, two girls had prepared me lunch at their house and brought it to me on a plate (these kids get lunch made for them normally by the school which is funded by a foreign evangelical church in the Netherlands) – so the fact that they MADE me food when their families don’t exactly have much, was such a gesture of kindness and hospitality, I was really touched! They befriended me of their own initiative and were so curious to hear about the United States and asked if I could take them with me. I tried to tell them good things and not-so-good things about my country and reassured them there is no place like home, but they still expressed a desire to at least move to the city of Cochabamba where there are more opportunities for work and activities in general. I’m grateful for them and their openness to welcome me and share part of their story with me.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzb0cuW8qwJd1oV1EDf87Q19XT02j51KJ5xPE2mcT1wV6n5lbrxL2wG0OwxUEdY63WkXwC9cS2VXOWh2WPdBjtaLqq5mr15o5cAsMcgCxdwB7rqcFpApUm1mACfmZGTTsB-CxtsK25TGr/s1600/IMG_4064.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzb0cuW8qwJd1oV1EDf87Q19XT02j51KJ5xPE2mcT1wV6n5lbrxL2wG0OwxUEdY63WkXwC9cS2VXOWh2WPdBjtaLqq5mr15o5cAsMcgCxdwB7rqcFpApUm1mACfmZGTTsB-CxtsK25TGr/s320/IMG_4064.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />To see more pictures, please go to: <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/July1Blog?authkey=Gv1sRgCLe2qM6em9Kk7gE#">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/July1Blog?authkey=Gv1sRgCLe2qM6em9Kk7gE#</a> <br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: being invited regularly to my friend’s family’s house; having friends whom I can count on; having had the opportunity to be a Girl Scout for 13 years; the good fortune of a friend being reunited with his wife after many months of waiting for a visa; singing.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-34494078912002337982011-06-16T06:04:00.000-07:002011-07-08T21:31:44.874-07:00Chugging along from fall to winterCochabamba is one of the most contaminated cities here in this part of the world and people here are slowly becoming more conscious of it. This year for the first time the mayor’s office has decided to have 3 pedestrian days instead of only 1, with the hope that eventually we will move to 1 a month. Pedestrian day consists of not allowing any vehicles or motorcycles to move about unless it is for emergency purposes and the streets are opened up to people, animals, bikes, skateboards and whatever else you can think of. I really like pedestrian day a lot (it always occurs on Sundays) because there’s a feeling of community, of commonality and being in touch with where we live that is refreshing.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWgWMZobzu0TmKkf7oLCQRjln-VEq200kDZTHvfEI9nW2-gibqKWSQ5CPCe7nikwb4iOSADB9_D2jzZmU6oCAJ_ZB-283XUluYFrg5NicQqJA2OkqKjFy2G0miDsWeE4J1f7Bq0f_6jF8x/s1600/IMG_3906.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWgWMZobzu0TmKkf7oLCQRjln-VEq200kDZTHvfEI9nW2-gibqKWSQ5CPCe7nikwb4iOSADB9_D2jzZmU6oCAJ_ZB-283XUluYFrg5NicQqJA2OkqKjFy2G0miDsWeE4J1f7Bq0f_6jF8x/s320/IMG_3906.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>There were lots of people selling food, plants, “stuff,” as well as organized games and recycling. For example, a paper company set up a tent to receive paper in exchange for toilet paper. It was very calming to walk all around the city without fearing for a car charging past you as if you had no right to the streets as well. It was a good day (my second pedestrian day so far here in Cochabamba) and it would be nice if we could institute something like this in the States…maybe one day?<br /><br />As you may recall from past blogs an effort I’ve been involved in since before I got out of language school is encouraging families to compost and then use the compost to have a small garden. Last year with my friends/partners-in-crime Reneé and Pablo, we got involved with a project at the university agricultural department, where the agricultural engineers help us learn how to manage a square foot garden best and we help them explore different ways to go about gardening and help harvest vegetables. Because of this connection, the engineer invited us to be a part of his project’s tent at the agricultural fair that lasted for 3 days, so we got to show off our tire composter and also how we use the tires for raising worms to make their own compost. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJVadJ4FrmcZS7_mfCjgdq0OuETGwC5u_bQBe5CSH3fByXAnf26QRlRSKKJTN6DX1Hs-BU7cbQtg8SqThvIFW10FwIuCR26TgnQ7c7Hd8Uh_To0qqd14EdTGNqGCCmb6osWgpVXLtYFpl/s1600/IMG_3924.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJVadJ4FrmcZS7_mfCjgdq0OuETGwC5u_bQBe5CSH3fByXAnf26QRlRSKKJTN6DX1Hs-BU7cbQtg8SqThvIFW10FwIuCR26TgnQ7c7Hd8Uh_To0qqd14EdTGNqGCCmb6osWgpVXLtYFpl/s320/IMG_3924.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Recently we made a square foot raised garden out of plastic bottles and another one out of tires, in an attempt to lower the costs of having a garden to make it more accessible for families with fewer resources and also to recycle material that would otherwise be sitting on the side of the road or in the dump.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdyYlZbzqIO_7Be-HssausgblJEpzcIxoKcdH-ENVM8g74qzf9yoBKtHhZ30DEHdtjK8xsOuhWabC0JQsUYPMolfhVbwNa_1voP5jINnT-dL2wsZWBL7RwkPNYnrkNQT9qSFbJ1ZcNDbM/s1600/IMG_4043.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdyYlZbzqIO_7Be-HssausgblJEpzcIxoKcdH-ENVM8g74qzf9yoBKtHhZ30DEHdtjK8xsOuhWabC0JQsUYPMolfhVbwNa_1voP5jINnT-dL2wsZWBL7RwkPNYnrkNQT9qSFbJ1ZcNDbM/s320/IMG_4043.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>As a small reminder for how incredibly common it is to be around trash the majority of one’s day in Cochabamba, one day I went to Tiqti Sud where the parish San Carlos has a center with a chapel, after-school program, dentist and space for retreats. I was struck by how pretty it looked as I was walking along the dirt road to get there, but then by the contrast of all the nasty trash people dump outside.<br /> <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauY4PV-kZIHcUve0dvTUbVIeuwPjGiIJ-El_tCY1Qj8gXtBxJFjdu_W2f0kVd1od1xFv0bGqbtdlLLfHncdYoKv2UQy-ETERrocmFv-gtAgQo_qYLWGfV1kImjYJQO3SgJ6aoKejor2uR/s1600/IMG_3929.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauY4PV-kZIHcUve0dvTUbVIeuwPjGiIJ-El_tCY1Qj8gXtBxJFjdu_W2f0kVd1od1xFv0bGqbtdlLLfHncdYoKv2UQy-ETERrocmFv-gtAgQo_qYLWGfV1kImjYJQO3SgJ6aoKejor2uR/s320/IMG_3929.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpi0vra9Afdm7KsUDUn6NdaYrCPwQYIicf11HqOaGtRHAj0fhaqSZzMf7vsdSJOktUhvsj01_HoOsxTDY1tZe0F_Gpa9Bwdy3CUvMPj9r5LGl95_225gQZtuYgUzDzVkkeyslTOQZC0AL/s1600/IMG_3930.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpi0vra9Afdm7KsUDUn6NdaYrCPwQYIicf11HqOaGtRHAj0fhaqSZzMf7vsdSJOktUhvsj01_HoOsxTDY1tZe0F_Gpa9Bwdy3CUvMPj9r5LGl95_225gQZtuYgUzDzVkkeyslTOQZC0AL/s320/IMG_3930.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Granted, they have limited trash service…you really have to make an effort to get your trash taken to the dump, so I can understand how the convenience and lack of service has made disposing of trash in this manner a habit. My hope is that one day this will not be the case, but that requires both people caring enough and money from the local authorities to provide more thorough trash management.<br /><br />In my family’s neighborhood in Virginia, a private company comes to pick up trash two days a week and another day of the week the same company comes to pick up recycling, which includes many different kinds of materials. For a long time, my parents would drive their trash to the dump because they didn’t have this service. In the central city of Cochabamba, we take our trash to a dumpster in the street and those outside the city center either have to deal with it themselves (ie burning it or dumping it outside their house or in the streets) or run outside when they hear the trash pick-up truck go by early in the morning. <br /><br />No matter where you live, there is no easy option for recycling. There are several organized groups of individuals who go through the streets and the dumpsters picking out items that can be sold to a company that recycles them. On my way home one day, I came across this woman with her 8 year-old daughter collecting and separating recyclables as a way to get an income. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4PXo3PZtrG9DqlSMbXryoQU_5vGF4C5p9AqJGdlFJU6ifW3oig6DDmXv7tFXWenQ8gJuqY5zzxvHbTZNSrKyZrlbf3CL4ojGE2-s9dwccZfaf4jAn3H7Yv02D9ehys2Rg0uhmPKlZmkkV/s1600/IMG_3944.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4PXo3PZtrG9DqlSMbXryoQU_5vGF4C5p9AqJGdlFJU6ifW3oig6DDmXv7tFXWenQ8gJuqY5zzxvHbTZNSrKyZrlbf3CL4ojGE2-s9dwccZfaf4jAn3H7Yv02D9ehys2Rg0uhmPKlZmkkV/s320/IMG_3944.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I chatted with them for a while and the daughter told me that she was only there that day because the most current street blockades prevented school from being in session so she could help her mom out.<br /><br />I knew what she was talking about because I had to walk many extra blocks due to these blockades and since I had my camera with me, I took pictures of what I came across on my walk home.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiI81EuE3NJ0fiAMlIk8-PdpOHcwwbbBW2RYPdFwCJMW9FqZK7xHqFCI6EFSi7Kajuthej-o7cO7uDcRRku0GxQGALW0959aRSbOaYbBxTWzMoF6EJLl3wvGyuZoloAj5ImocX2SR7htsS/s1600/IMG_3940.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiI81EuE3NJ0fiAMlIk8-PdpOHcwwbbBW2RYPdFwCJMW9FqZK7xHqFCI6EFSi7Kajuthej-o7cO7uDcRRku0GxQGALW0959aRSbOaYbBxTWzMoF6EJLl3wvGyuZoloAj5ImocX2SR7htsS/s320/IMG_3940.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />There was a group of public health workers striking because I think they wanted more benefits, but to be honest, I can’t remember any more why they were striking and blockading but it was bothersome for the rest of us in trying to get around. This is a fairly common occurrence.<br /><br />Switching gears to something that I really enjoyed, my host family from language school invited me over for dinner to celebrate my host-mom’s birthday, and it was a really nice time. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hUgr9SdXfiQ3A5PY3FY5UGLOMEqJxM_bFZbTdwfCOvRPSDBq6aH-3JZG_l_5Ae8P0SWx7ALLweB3cOXqDAGFYUOn927OyBnY3lO0bPjxOE30hSbTLUi2rDwenT5dxFgAyJ12tLxKnEMv/s1600/IMG_3949.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hUgr9SdXfiQ3A5PY3FY5UGLOMEqJxM_bFZbTdwfCOvRPSDBq6aH-3JZG_l_5Ae8P0SWx7ALLweB3cOXqDAGFYUOn927OyBnY3lO0bPjxOE30hSbTLUi2rDwenT5dxFgAyJ12tLxKnEMv/s320/IMG_3949.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>The two daughters are around the ages of two of my actual sisters, so it feels especially comfortable being with them. I’m so grateful I was placed with them while I was in language school and they continue to be my family in Bolivia. We took a picture of me with my Bolivian sisters and the boyfriend of one of them.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5aYdXhd6y5i-E3T_9mNFiblZKFwhhLF0Xe8tepaPDpauY9yK54W5YJY_8P-bhAQQSXAAUTf1pBuifCGottA9IFGhg7Is121z7UX8TZCEyf8w0xryoE3K-ngYERNy3SbgpXUGfwuPHHaGN/s1600/IMG_3952.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5aYdXhd6y5i-E3T_9mNFiblZKFwhhLF0Xe8tepaPDpauY9yK54W5YJY_8P-bhAQQSXAAUTf1pBuifCGottA9IFGhg7Is121z7UX8TZCEyf8w0xryoE3K-ngYERNy3SbgpXUGfwuPHHaGN/s320/IMG_3952.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>5 Things I’m thankful for today: warm blankets at night; delicious mandarina fruit that is in season; playing cards with my kid neighbors in the social center; sunny weather that gives me energy; watching a 4-year-old and his older brother eagerly pick spinach with me from the after-school program garden.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-49561948832513719512011-05-23T11:48:00.000-07:002011-05-23T12:13:00.295-07:00Pre-Lent in BoliviaI don’t know quite how time goes by so quickly, but I think that’s a sign that I’m living life fully, which is good, so please forgive me for telling these stories I’m about to share a bit late. While in the United States, Easter is a pretty big deal, in Bolivia, it’s the pre-Lent and Lenten season, especially Holy Week (the week prior to Easter) that are particularly meaningful and involved. <br /><br />Before Lent starts each year there is a GIANT festival in the folklore capital of Bolivia, called Oruro, which is also known for its many mines. This celebration has been going on (transformed over the years of course) for over 2000 years and has been deemed one of the “Masterpieces of Oral Heritage and Intangible Heritage of Humanity” by UNESCO. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvCozWg3YyHzlCiCOwYwqwnwqu34G5D8h7KUFd7Ezm3Vy0uR10wxRNfZGXNboHsbuadVXi7u1adG9JKhyX8FkuWTsRUU7Z2X6EYqdwmNjCH70MZ0CrVUroRURnjHAjykRR0y001aMEPKz/s1600/IMG_3575.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvCozWg3YyHzlCiCOwYwqwnwqu34G5D8h7KUFd7Ezm3Vy0uR10wxRNfZGXNboHsbuadVXi7u1adG9JKhyX8FkuWTsRUU7Z2X6EYqdwmNjCH70MZ0CrVUroRURnjHAjykRR0y001aMEPKz/s320/IMG_3575.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57ht-boWd6q4z6zJk4-BgHfWrhtfAr-RQN9lVYSdIRdSGT3JNS_hw7R_ODJA6aA3oqnqMyqXKKUcl5Z0mOpPoTtQZOrbCa_HHdXOPZ9Ezzd2MdF2CdXB-KlXnEe1f7I4ZVhnADqaCsLA8/s1600/IMG_3603.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57ht-boWd6q4z6zJk4-BgHfWrhtfAr-RQN9lVYSdIRdSGT3JNS_hw7R_ODJA6aA3oqnqMyqXKKUcl5Z0mOpPoTtQZOrbCa_HHdXOPZ9Ezzd2MdF2CdXB-KlXnEe1f7I4ZVhnADqaCsLA8/s320/IMG_3603.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gjAlHLu3Rer8rS-IalKJ_7x0kklpYSGGkcfhj8jz-gN6Ufqy8SKViCmMDYBtzMioO35ifPdzXrYp1hPjdogZQ2k5f9JGx15nakG98x6Gbq9aEEFrXd4VYGzmkt9fIOIIOg7eAaGZbr4R/s1600/IMG_3583.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gjAlHLu3Rer8rS-IalKJ_7x0kklpYSGGkcfhj8jz-gN6Ufqy8SKViCmMDYBtzMioO35ifPdzXrYp1hPjdogZQ2k5f9JGx15nakG98x6Gbq9aEEFrXd4VYGzmkt9fIOIIOg7eAaGZbr4R/s320/IMG_3583.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>According to Wikipidia “the carnival marks the Ito festival for the Uru people. Its ceremonies stem from Andean customs, the ancient invocations centering around Pachamama (Mother Earth, transformed into the Virgin Mary due to Christian syncretism) and Tio Supay (Uncle God of the Mountains, transformed into the Devil). The native Ito ceremonies were stopped in the 17th century by the Spanish, who were ruling the territory of Upper Peru at the time. However, the Uru continued to observe the festival in the form of a Catholic ritual on Candlemas, in the first week of each February. Christian icons were used to conceal portrayals of Andean gods, and the Christian saints represented other Andean minor divinities. The ceremony begins forty days before Easter.” Often a car leads the way for each group, adorned with silver platters and an image of the Virgin Mary.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtAPlVPLnhyI8ThGeuOU0cJWTu4Gbr3dMRIrBLSWiwxCZxAhl15lvLWLAxtjIOsWB2ax1uviIYFaonlxNn_qTbNuaiXCwUExOovET_n8uIhL_KCiehdSVyf75unsRw1lKTPkF2Q0Mu9-R/s1600/IMG_3607.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtAPlVPLnhyI8ThGeuOU0cJWTu4Gbr3dMRIrBLSWiwxCZxAhl15lvLWLAxtjIOsWB2ax1uviIYFaonlxNn_qTbNuaiXCwUExOovET_n8uIhL_KCiehdSVyf75unsRw1lKTPkF2Q0Mu9-R/s320/IMG_3607.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I decided it was high time I went to experience first-hand this famous and often-talked-about festival, so I left on Friday March 4th for Carnival in Oruro! We were a group of roughly 8 another franciscan missioner, two Franciscans and four other Bolivians. We got the pleasure of receiving wonderful Franciscan hospitality in the church/convent there which is very unlike most people’s very expensive experience of going to Carnival in Oruro. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuab4Pzg-frC4ayM5NO7S-xdAndHGkpitQ3PM5dCuKbsJrJHYZp0Dxi5kjPR8pcLJxZ46a0GhPufE1_aoF3HPXHRlbe_e3v716wUAd8FVD3vve76UThZwS2FlZgspd1aTAPNnsLK9FPTr/s1600/IMG_3561.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuab4Pzg-frC4ayM5NO7S-xdAndHGkpitQ3PM5dCuKbsJrJHYZp0Dxi5kjPR8pcLJxZ46a0GhPufE1_aoF3HPXHRlbe_e3v716wUAd8FVD3vve76UThZwS2FlZgspd1aTAPNnsLK9FPTr/s320/IMG_3561.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>On Friday we went to visit the Church of the Mineshaft or Sanctuaria del Socavon. They say that in 1789 a mural of the Virgin Mary appeared miraculously in a mineshaft of a silver mine in Oruro and since then the festival of Carnival has been celebrated in honor of the Virgin Mary. Here is the painting of the image of Mary in the church. On Saturday the bishop began the pilgrimage procession followed by TONS of dance groups that kept going until long after I headed for bed around 1am.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQAkoxoILk1LlXMeszazYASRd8zcegXVG_ngcwGJ2fSBmGTFACGiBQgy_8yvFAqU7U1hgo149ip2sHRNllPPdtVX7usumzUv7wEr1oJ15F6avB25HZf6NZVMb8yvR9KaSSjCbftPjQHwe/s1600/IMG_3688.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQAkoxoILk1LlXMeszazYASRd8zcegXVG_ngcwGJ2fSBmGTFACGiBQgy_8yvFAqU7U1hgo149ip2sHRNllPPdtVX7usumzUv7wEr1oJ15F6avB25HZf6NZVMb8yvR9KaSSjCbftPjQHwe/s320/IMG_3688.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7oJiyhTZLMWwoNSOfHTW1hyphenhyphenVMaI5oYaxsFpB2ygUrC7OEYkzLgqqbrF2eYlpaVxiDdJJ-Pr5mSpA-gg8HuN2i-e4DgAhBIENBuulgb_OM1owfu2E16zuYA9VSQChpUrjz6QOjqHxKMfm/s1600/IMG_3612.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7oJiyhTZLMWwoNSOfHTW1hyphenhyphenVMaI5oYaxsFpB2ygUrC7OEYkzLgqqbrF2eYlpaVxiDdJJ-Pr5mSpA-gg8HuN2i-e4DgAhBIENBuulgb_OM1owfu2E16zuYA9VSQChpUrjz6QOjqHxKMfm/s320/IMG_3612.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ILejBaUR08z2eZT9-wnwd0p03Z5dbh_7Ie0BEojvgdyJr8mHNBSV-DofmB6bXGSDi4dyCCczpvFnQwq2RPbVbYhkkIs0fMXnjH3jYV1F0ZO8Y5AT-B1D8dPzl-7-sllbyojWilpq6mFd/s1600/IMG_3630.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ILejBaUR08z2eZT9-wnwd0p03Z5dbh_7Ie0BEojvgdyJr8mHNBSV-DofmB6bXGSDi4dyCCczpvFnQwq2RPbVbYhkkIs0fMXnjH3jYV1F0ZO8Y5AT-B1D8dPzl-7-sllbyojWilpq6mFd/s320/IMG_3630.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I really enjoyed being able to be a part of the Carnival celebration. There is just so much uniqueness, so much joy and pride that people have in their costumes, in their dances and that the observers have in their fellow Bolivians. I loved being amidst the chanting, singing, cheering “Beso! Beso! Beso!” (Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!) at the supposedly most attractive dancers who dance Caporales. The variety and creativity in the costumes is just remarkable. Although, I would NOT want to wear those boots dancing for 4 km!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdLqm6GY3zi78FI61LPRg5F9yzBE3Op4r2ReriQbu3ET3pXgmHkJX7wCnlfEPhPmhKllteWpPmDuenQkzyScKj0R3vXHh_9USDEoHTqGw6o-oze0YKLMWUNHDVQdL0DiG7jmam-0IO6CL/s1600/IMG_3665.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdLqm6GY3zi78FI61LPRg5F9yzBE3Op4r2ReriQbu3ET3pXgmHkJX7wCnlfEPhPmhKllteWpPmDuenQkzyScKj0R3vXHh_9USDEoHTqGw6o-oze0YKLMWUNHDVQdL0DiG7jmam-0IO6CL/s320/IMG_3665.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>On Sunday we went back to the Church of the Mineshaft to go down into the mine and also to get a little more observing, taking pictures and dancing in. I hadn’t realized that everyone who dances on Saturday dances the whole route again on Sunday. Impressive!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJusydOGsNaMPs91qyD_Xyn1ViU2blLOTfWXP4qqc0vwae07vOLwe72bNSHVSSZuu3ITik9Z3d69i-7CosEdjeHd3Xg7K8XbmWLyITWxQLxBxY3BdwE_W92Ox5kMRyGfLCZP9wCwGk3qcy/s1600/IMG_3737.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJusydOGsNaMPs91qyD_Xyn1ViU2blLOTfWXP4qqc0vwae07vOLwe72bNSHVSSZuu3ITik9Z3d69i-7CosEdjeHd3Xg7K8XbmWLyITWxQLxBxY3BdwE_W92Ox5kMRyGfLCZP9wCwGk3qcy/s320/IMG_3737.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkuM8N3uIPWbcQT0ODIUUtT2UZc9S30YIWLbEQdQETSSLQ6X4snnLLD9YKf9EUUXZVmxLWQVarYwBShmv95p9mZKfLbFfc7bMjIwFKbDMddwOgZSwDR20LY6Nkf1zXZVxa49H72enWuwR2/s1600/IMG_3754.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkuM8N3uIPWbcQT0ODIUUtT2UZc9S30YIWLbEQdQETSSLQ6X4snnLLD9YKf9EUUXZVmxLWQVarYwBShmv95p9mZKfLbFfc7bMjIwFKbDMddwOgZSwDR20LY6Nkf1zXZVxa49H72enWuwR2/s320/IMG_3754.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Two days later is what Americans call “Fat Tuesday” or the day before Lent begins. I got the pleasure of being invited by my friend to her house for a ch’alla, which is an Andean custom still practiced regularly even in the city. It consists of a small fire and an offering basicly blessing mother earth or Pachamama out of respect and thanksgiving for what she gives us, asking also for her blessing in the coming year. Fat Tuesday is a holiday and a day generally spent with family and a ch’alla in one’s home instead of out in public. My friend made the typical spicey sauce by crushing peppers and onions with big stones. I was given coca leaves to chew, a home-made tobacco cigarette and sitting in a circle we chatted and passed each other the chicha, a traditional drink made out of corn. Before drinking the first time we each poured a little of the chicha in a circle counter-clockwise (I think that’s right) around the fire as a gesture of respect for the earth. Before drinking, it’s respectful and expected that you cheers/invite someone else and then once you’re done, you serve them and the ritual continues...<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguDue-1Ov0RE8dGJ26Ow6J6-GSUilS_qGTwGTWAKwXk5WjYZlxU4MCj2nD-8lJ05dFBMvljyZtief_Nna8Ut27xovbKlHSf4TraxslOmafD7Kkb2zduBzJrSFAZ69qzyYlgTAsIHDi8Tya/s1600/IMG_3760.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguDue-1Ov0RE8dGJ26Ow6J6-GSUilS_qGTwGTWAKwXk5WjYZlxU4MCj2nD-8lJ05dFBMvljyZtief_Nna8Ut27xovbKlHSf4TraxslOmafD7Kkb2zduBzJrSFAZ69qzyYlgTAsIHDi8Tya/s320/IMG_3760.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZVLCOMlHCDvdP8zHUI1-HtvOKWpP90Vu9_3bNoI0RAaWbQjn_T74w5fo9AY5NiuXuCktLzgPnVNuoaBwxZmNLCrU6w5mjT9VjcOKoXXci6ygN0eUpYr5rJSFKI30wgtWrGk4dRXs3Y0p/s1600/IMG_3787.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJZVLCOMlHCDvdP8zHUI1-HtvOKWpP90Vu9_3bNoI0RAaWbQjn_T74w5fo9AY5NiuXuCktLzgPnVNuoaBwxZmNLCrU6w5mjT9VjcOKoXXci6ygN0eUpYr5rJSFKI30wgtWrGk4dRXs3Y0p/s320/IMG_3787.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>After eating a meal we went back outside and played a game trying to throw coins into a hole from a distance, of course continuing to share chicha while taking turns playing. The game reminded me of horseshoes but on a much smaller (but still challenging) scale. It is hard not to feel united with the group all drinking from the same gourd and continually inviting and sharing with each other the same drink (don’t worry, no one got drunk as it was non-alcoholic chicha). I enjoyed the opportunity to be let in to this family’s ritual and share in the day with them. While Andean in its roots, this is a pre-Lent custom and from my perception I think the Andean and Christian ways mend quite well, as there is a clear recognition of God’s presence all around and an honoring of the divine among us.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HVt7ZE4tfUFZbcJ0WOEafBHmLiiNIwFm9tJ7hjD_xPpdfsSzixao4du1zXEaBXBMJbEnXxq1yDcfrqoKtEhQhxCtxl-EfTNTJTEL18jiQuiLYByeGog4agTNIq5WiAeLgSb1ZpjAFBIL/s1600/IMG_3789.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HVt7ZE4tfUFZbcJ0WOEafBHmLiiNIwFm9tJ7hjD_xPpdfsSzixao4du1zXEaBXBMJbEnXxq1yDcfrqoKtEhQhxCtxl-EfTNTJTEL18jiQuiLYByeGog4agTNIq5WiAeLgSb1ZpjAFBIL/s320/IMG_3789.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I hadn’t quite got enough dancing and celebrating in so I attended Cochabamba’s carnival parade celebration just a few days later. I went with kids from the youth group at San Carlos and it was a good day, but I got TOTALLY soaked with water walking back to my bench in the stands. They asked me if I’d fallen in the river...it was bad. The “Corso de Corsos” as they call it here in Cochabamba is much less organized and slower than the Carnival procession in Oruro, but I still had a good time. There were also less traditional dances and costumes which the military groups presented.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjizUosAoTYssouMQYTvqC4JMa4gSJZbHBQP8rp6xOBnvCeSihnm84GVd7DX2lxxHOKo-VeUaxYJHxcmsTkXj-g1sy55nwXuPdA7VI9RIIERC5_JhNud9f4Ecr8j_uDxybiH9wiGxasWuZ/s1600/IMG_3806.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjizUosAoTYssouMQYTvqC4JMa4gSJZbHBQP8rp6xOBnvCeSihnm84GVd7DX2lxxHOKo-VeUaxYJHxcmsTkXj-g1sy55nwXuPdA7VI9RIIERC5_JhNud9f4Ecr8j_uDxybiH9wiGxasWuZ/s320/IMG_3806.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglowD8iIE5LNSpap2PyUr0u2MmJuZqWJU5tyugSZPsRky8EO7UAGFT7po8jtEwtIoumw5vPXVKJQtaUCYje170SWSPqlIlUraaQ_IURwysLneWUsfJENcYnjT2_jsALYcU_7VmrpUoeN4e/s1600/IMG_3860.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglowD8iIE5LNSpap2PyUr0u2MmJuZqWJU5tyugSZPsRky8EO7UAGFT7po8jtEwtIoumw5vPXVKJQtaUCYje170SWSPqlIlUraaQ_IURwysLneWUsfJENcYnjT2_jsALYcU_7VmrpUoeN4e/s320/IMG_3860.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>We ended the night going down from the stands into the street and dancing with everyone else, while taking pictures with the dancers. I must say I’ve never celebrated so much before Lent in my life. It’s one of the parts of the Bolivian culture I really enjoy—the dedication to the various traditional dances, music and customs. What a gift to take part in it!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BTbR1bYDDNqdG9QM6b7-Bc4gEU_uFtj_j2bbcuf4BiBSeu7F-mTDK-vnAMu4O5O6AXmYPZb2fURQ3hvQmfA4XnztGbaHfo6b52CTXE6HfLA0HENbvGz9ATbrM0gC5xdxv4d3ZQPeIoko/s1600/IMG_3867.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BTbR1bYDDNqdG9QM6b7-Bc4gEU_uFtj_j2bbcuf4BiBSeu7F-mTDK-vnAMu4O5O6AXmYPZb2fURQ3hvQmfA4XnztGbaHfo6b52CTXE6HfLA0HENbvGz9ATbrM0gC5xdxv4d3ZQPeIoko/s320/IMG_3867.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUk8OXpFm76m9gX1bpwoot7TfBZFnIhVs8VE5o3acbX0CDESE2Xtkk4JEsb19_zYU-pds1cqGdY-IHk_aedGXVbCHqrFoD0rdGZqcUBz9YNyABb5sEAvMbHqxr-D0QCOWCV1TNMfdrGDaO/s1600/IMG_3878.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUk8OXpFm76m9gX1bpwoot7TfBZFnIhVs8VE5o3acbX0CDESE2Xtkk4JEsb19_zYU-pds1cqGdY-IHk_aedGXVbCHqrFoD0rdGZqcUBz9YNyABb5sEAvMbHqxr-D0QCOWCV1TNMfdrGDaO/s320/IMG_3878.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>To see more pictures from Oruro, Fat Tuesday and Corso de Corsos, please visit the following links:<br /><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/OruroCarnaval?authkey=Gv1sRgCMeZyrvxt939fA#">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/OruroCarnaval?authkey=Gv1sRgCMeZyrvxt939fA# </a><br /><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/FatTuesdayChAlla?authkey=Gv1sRgCKWo3ZibgOef6QE#">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/FatTuesdayChAlla?authkey=Gv1sRgCKWo3ZibgOef6QE#</a> <br /><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/CorsoDeCorsos2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCNTwxtr6_KamhwE# ">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/CorsoDeCorsos2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCNTwxtr6_KamhwE# </a><br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: seeing a little toddler carrying her baby doll in a plastic bag substituting for an aguayo (cloth women use to carry their children on their backs) on her back (so cute!); playing hearts and laughing with friends yesterday; the improvement in health of several people I know; my sisters who give me so much joy and love; the kids here at the social center where I live who give me hugs and make me laugh every day.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-4229932691237203012011-04-02T12:47:00.000-07:002011-04-02T19:20:18.878-07:00Argentina“Oh. My. Gosh. That car just stopped for me to cross the road!”<br /><br />That is how my trip to Chile and Argentina began. In January I got the opportunity to meet up with my aunt and uncle and another couple who are cousins of theirs in Argentina. In order to get to Mendoza, Argentina, I decided to go by bus to the coast of Chile, to a town called Iquique. That is where the cultural changes started to hit me.<br /><br />First, cars actually respect pedestrians and let them cross the road with ample space. There was less trash lying around. There was soap in the bathroom. There were hot and cold water handles in the shower instead of having an electric shower head. There were a LOT less stray dogs. I ate really good fish and ceviche (because I was by the ocean!). The list goes on, but that gives you an idea for now of some of the differences I first encountered.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/59c1531be515ff11dbfca3967815f3aa/image/67c1f01e762a6715.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/59c1531be515ff11dbfca3967815f3aa/image/67c1f01e762a6715.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>After getting off the bus in Iquique around 3pm, I was very happy, having left Cochabamba at 9pm the night before, not having been able to sleep much on a very bumpy overnight ride, and spending 4 hours at the Bolivia-Chile border (where I had to pick out all the raisins from the granola I had made because Chile is super strict about what you can bring into their country). Before getting on another, but MUCH nicer luxurious bus, for a 24 hour ride to Santiago, I ate good fish and went in the ocean!!!<br /><br />I only spent a hot minute in Santiago because the next morning I left with my aunt and uncle for Mendoza, Argentina. We spent a couple days in the city of Mendoza (as opposed to the region Mendoza), where we walked through many beautiful plazas and toured two wineries and a small olive oil factory.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/de555bc62b159a2b899784345894e362/image/c1d26040ab9a21d8.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/de555bc62b159a2b899784345894e362/image/c1d26040ab9a21d8.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>The day we were supposed to make the 7 hour drive to Las Leñas, a ski resort south of the city of Mendoza where we would stay for about a week, my ATM card got stuck and remained in the machine. We ended up leaving, just much later than expected and I was feeling a lot of things, a mix of frustration and amazement. It was maddening that there was no way to get the card back because it was the weekend, and it was amazing that despite the loss of my only immediate access to money, I was not gone for because my aunt and uncle were there…but how many people in the world have a support network who will back them up when they literally have no more access to money? I’m very grateful for my aunt and uncle taking care of me in this situation and grateful that there are people to help me when I have nothing left. Quite a humbling moment. Yet! Also maddening that a whole lot of people in the world do not have such security through absolutely no fault of their own.<br /><br />Returning back to our trip. We got to the hotel at Las Leñas, which was rather abonded since it was summer, not winter. It was a comfy small apartment with a hot plate to cook on…and cook on it we did! Maybe it took 3 hours to cook lentils and maybe we ate late every day, but it was a fun experience overall! If there were a prize for best meals cooked on a hot plate, I would give it hands down to my four traveling companions. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/de555bc62b159a2b899784345894e362/image/db7f1dd3bf8dcd54.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/de555bc62b159a2b899784345894e362/image/db7f1dd3bf8dcd54.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>We spent the next 4 days exploring the mountains and other beautiful parts of our surroundings. I loved being there. There were beautiful rivers, water holes, goats, open country and more open country.<br /> <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/36ff6e8ee077146736fca019fa47f399/image/5f3027d30a85baa6.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/36ff6e8ee077146736fca019fa47f399/image/5f3027d30a85baa6.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>On Monday January 24th we drove into Malargüe and visited a little museum and convention center, which was a highlight for me because the man who gave us a short but thorough tour was just so kind and proud of his center. We got to talking about lots of things including the secret to his popcorn, which he shared with me and I will share with you (but don’t ever tell him please) – oil, sugar and coconut essence. Mmmmm!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/de555bc62b159a2b899784345894e362/image/498e1f4f083563b0.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/de555bc62b159a2b899784345894e362/image/498e1f4f083563b0.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Wednesday we spent with Paco. Now, in order to see some of the most beautiful parts of the mountain range, one needs a 4-wheel-drive vehicle, which is where Paco came in. We packed a picnic in the morning and loaded into his Land Rover, and my seat was in the back so I had quite a good view. <br /><br /> At our first stop he showed us all these shell fossils demonstrating how these mountains were at one time ocean floor…incredible. Next he stopped at a small stream humbly, in an almost unnoticeable way, going down the hillside. He got out, unscrewed his water bottle and filled up. Oh my goodness, was that water tasty.<br /><br />Paco told us the story about the plane that crashed very near to where we were, back in the 70’s (the survivors ate the flesh of some of the other passengers who had died) and showed us the grand Valle Hermoso (beautiful valley), where he has gone skiing and on excursions countless times in his life. This river used to be public but a foreigner bought it as an investment, because as many are predicting, the wars of the future will be about fresh water access. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/6b4b9a6e30ad9389d5dead5fd5ad7054/image/dcc037c7329f40da.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/6b4b9a6e30ad9389d5dead5fd5ad7054/image/dcc037c7329f40da.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>However we were still able to drive up to it to give David a chance to fish and also us a chance to eat lunch, at the end of which Paco pulled out a lovely bottle of wine from underneath his seat. Hey, can’t pass up an opportunity to drink wine in Argentina!<br /><br />The next three days involved my travel back to Cochabamba but not without some one-of-a-kind experiences and conversations along the way. I spent another night in Mendoza city, enjoying the amazing peaches, lit-up water fountains and my first tango lesson a park. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/36ff6e8ee077146736fca019fa47f399/image/75d8db6fabe55cdd.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/36ff6e8ee077146736fca019fa47f399/image/75d8db6fabe55cdd.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Argentina intrigues me with its very visible European influence (both in architecture and physical characteristics of the people…having come from Bolivia, I was shocked on a daily basis to see people with such lighter features), its parking lots that are called “playas” (or “beach”), lots of women wearing shorts, men greeting each other with kisses on the cheek (not just to women, which is how it is here in Cochabamba). <br /><br />The bus ride from Mendoza to Santiago, Chile was good with some pretty views of the Andes as we crossed through them. I have to say though, I was happy to finally get back to Cochabamba. It was a good trip and I want to go back to Chile when I can actually visit it a little more than looking at its coast from a bus window…we’ll see what the future brings. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='http://localhost:50708/36ff6e8ee077146736fca019fa47f399/image/97a340ba108953ce.jpg'><img src='http://localhost:50708/36ff6e8ee077146736fca019fa47f399/image/97a340ba108953ce.jpg?size=320' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>To see many more pictures of my first experience in Chile and Argentina, please go to the following link <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ChileArgentinaBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNGxhI_ts676Qw#">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ChileArgentinaBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNGxhI_ts676Qw#</a><br /><br />5 Things I’m thankful for today: time to write and reflect; communication with friends; chai tea; being able to walk to work this morning and along the way stopping and chatting with someone (you know, that feeling of comfort in being somewhere where people know your name); an uncomfortable situation that has improved.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-73099628557255549582011-02-26T04:25:00.000-08:002011-02-26T07:11:51.037-08:00The people are heard Part IIJust as there is a lot going on in the world currently such as in Libya, Jordan, Egypt and Wisconsin, there is quite a bit of activity going on here in Bolivia as well. According to the newspaper Los Tiempos, in just this past week the country has lost $5.6 million due to the flooding and social conflicts. The strikes, blockades and flooding have neither allowed the normal flow of products nor food to travel to the market in Bolivian cities nor to neighboring countries as exports. Also, primary materials are not able to be brought to plants to continue production as usual in various industries…it’s just a big chain effect.<br /><br />Just yesterday the World Food Program distributed 20 tons of food in the tropical region of Cochabamba where the flooding is really bad, and went to 778 families. They say about 9,500 people have been affected so far by the intense rains we’re getting, destroying homes, causing deaths of people and livestock and trapping people either in their own towns or in transport trying to get somewhere else.<br /><br />As much as I enjoy seeing the hills and mountains green, I am very sad for all the people suffering from such intense rains. It’s really hard to believe, even living in the midst of it, that it’s possible to have such severe drought for much of the year and then BAM we just get rain after rain…the extremity of it is really not a good thing for anybody or the environment. What the reports say about the increase over the more recent years in intense weather patterns, it’s not a joke, at least not here, and it is having very serious consequences.<br /><br />Switching from the weather issues to the social issues, let’s go back to what happened in December when the diesel and gasoline prices were hiked up for a week when the national government took away those subsidies. “The measure led all other prices to increase exponentially, beyond the purchasing power of the majority of the population. Although increasing food costs followed international trends, many Bolivians remain frustrated that these prices have not returned to previous levels, despite retraction of the temporary fuel hike” (Andean Information Network).<br /><br />Just a week ago I got a text message from a friend offering to sell me sugar at only 7.50 B’s ($1.08) per kilo. This was exciting because sugar has not been sold for a while now. One day a couple weeks ago I was walking along Lanza, a road in the market section of Cochabamba that always has grains and sugar, but the majority of the tiendas were closed with signs about the injustice and corruption around sugar supply and price manipulations.<br /><br />“In October 2010, the Morales administration designated the Food Production Support Bureau (EMAPA) as the overseeing organization in control of sugar distribution. In January 2011, rising prices for sugar caused widespread shortages and affected tens of thousands of informal intermediaries who previously made small profits from sales. Organized protestors who opposed the rising price of sugar blocked transportation and flights out of major cities, and large-scale sellers withdrew their sugar stocks from the market in hopes of greater price increases. This deadlock generated several weeks of scarcity for consumers as sugar disappeared temporarily from the market” (Andean Information Network).<br /><br />Now, the current hot issue that is affecting everyone is the cost of public transportation. The drivers nationwide want to increase the fare from 1.50 B’s to 2 B’s claiming the need to do so because of the food price increases and their needs to support their families. Their income is based on the fares they charge and then take away fuel and maintenance costs. However, the general public is not happy one bit about rise in transportation fares because as a wonderful example of economics at work, transportation costs are a factor in almost all parts of a society and would thereby increase prices of all other products and reduce the buying power of each person, which is already low to begin with.<br /><br />With only breaks on the weekends, we in Cochabamba, have been without public transportation due to the drivers striking since Wednesday February 16th. Only in Santa Cruz have the people, transportation unions and the government come to an agreement of 1.80 B’s fare. In the rest of the country’s cities the arguing, strikes and blockades continue. Two days ago the transportation union here in Cochabamba agreed to request 1.80 B’s but neither the leaders of the neighborhoods nor the government is in line with this, so starting Monday we will continue to struggle to get about with no public transportation.<br /><br />So what does this mean for me? It means that everything is up in the air and I know even less now than normally what I will do each day. Reneé and I just barely made it to one of our gardens, which we hadn’t been to in 10 days because of transportation difficulties. Last night I walked an hour to a friend’s house. The other day I walked outside my door to find the street fully congested with parked cars, and I’m talking about a major street in Cochabamba. I couldn’t go to visit someone who is very sick because we couldn’t get to his house. I haven’t gone to the after-school group as often because it takes about 45 min. walk each way and not as many kids are coming when school is in session and some days they cancel it. It takes even longer to do things than it normally does, and I find that in general everything takes longer to do in Bolivia than it did for me when I lived in the United States.<br /><br />Here is a link to a video and pictures I took on Friday February 18th of a group protesting on one of the streets blocked off by blockades.<br /><br /><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ProtestBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCM6ika7x6YzmmgE#">https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ProtestBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCM6ika7x6YzmmgE#</a><br />As you can see, not violent, but they were chanting very strong messages such as that the police can either be with the people or assassinate them, referring to the police enforcing the set tariff of 1.50 B’s for transportation and not supporting the drivers. Or another one was directed at the government saying how they always talk about being for change and being for the people and they need to stick to that etc.<br /><br />So, in summation we’ve got intense flooding and droughts, struggling and trapped people, commodity speculations, rising food prices, protests, strikes, blockades with people demanding conflicting needs. “After overcoming many hurdles to achieve constitutional reform and establish important legislative changes, the Morales administration now has to confront the specific demands of different groups who supported those measures and expect concrete returns. MAS (political party of President Morales) must find a balance between compromising with its social movement and union support base, while seeking long-term economic stability” (Andean Information Network).<br /><br />5 things I’m grateful for today: spending a relaxing evening with a friend; having internet access; nothing was stolen from the Justice and Peace office even though the doors were found open the other morning; a new cell phone that works better; unexpected time to play “soccer” with my neighbor kids, clean my room, sew up holes in my shirts and watch a good movie.Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-86765928269597405652011-02-26T04:20:00.000-08:002011-02-26T04:23:11.581-08:00The people are heardIt was the week after Christmas here in Bolivia, just 2 months ago, December 2010. During this week many people are on vacation or traveling to see family, as is also common in the United States, so at first there was not a very visible reaction to the surprise over-night increase in fuel prices between 70-80% implemented on December 26th. The president, Evo Morales made a Supreme Decree taking away subsidies for diesel and gasoline, but NOT for natural gas, which is often used by buses and cars in cities and as cooking fuel. The reason stated for removing the subsidies is that the subsidized prices encourage a great deal of fuel contraband to Bolivia’s neighboring countries. At the same time he also increased salaries of public workers (police, known for being a very corrupt and under-paid institution; teachers; firemen etc.) <br /><br />It took several days but people were NOT happy about the fuel price increase and on Thursday December 30th there was a strike here in Cochabamba by all the public transportation people as well as blockades in several main roads to prevent anyone from passing. At the time I was house-sitting for friends who live outside the main city, near a lake in the southern zone, so I walked back to the city for a 3pm meeting I had. It only took an hour and it was actually pleasant with not a whole lot going on during the end of the lunch hours…but that would soon change.<br /><br />As I sit inside the office of Justice and Peace, which is situated one block from the main plaza in Cochabamba, I hear very loud BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! I look over with wide eyes at the person I’m meeting with, a Franciscan living here well over 30 years, who says to me calmly, “Oh, that’s just tear gas, it’ll probably be entering the building pretty soon.” Trusting him and his non-flustered demeanor, I said, “oh, ok then” and we continued on talking as lots of shouts and more shots were heard right outside our door. <br /><br />The gas never did enter our building, or at least I didn’t sense it. When I opened the door to leave a couple hours later, there were about 30 police officers with plastic shields in the corner, trying to move dumpsters that had been pushed into the intersection as a blockade. I walked back to my home 2 blocks from the office and saw many people in the streets burning things in the intersections or just walking. I never felt in danger, but it’s not something that happens every day so it was a new experience.<br /><br />Mind you, all that week, I was being charged double the price to ride public transportation, which is an awfully big jump to happen without any warning and I felt it in my pocketbook, so just imagine what an average person would think who has more people to care for and less resources than I do. Finally, to end the rage, strikes, some violence and speculation of public transportation and food prices, President Morales took away the decree the night of New Year’s Eve, so that 2011 began with prices of diesel and gasoline going back to the way they were before December 26th. Although the price of natural gas for vehicles was not increased, it is not available in areas outside of cities and therefore “disproportionately affected these communities” (The Andean Info. Network).Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-86890592173989795742011-02-17T09:30:00.000-08:002011-02-17T10:08:33.336-08:00A day in my life, February 2011Morning routine of boiling water for 10 min. so that we can have safe drink-able water, while making oatmeal for breakfast. For the stove we use natural gas, and our extra tank is to the right in the photo on the floor next to the bananas. When we run out or gas, we await anxiously in the morning for the clanging bell of the truck and then race outside to catch it so we can exchange the empty tank for a full tank for a price of 22.50 bolivianos or $3.25<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtiuXBr2lPKBQNhcxlqSnBJKNhKnEdnJh9Srr_nQFo0eDVY9imEcSQHfmQQuCwPDCqjslr1Z6Bw6B-rTr74M3BeT9rroOX5w3mxk0R0WMhAXI6dokKq1kQVbgN0ss_QWqyvi_ouFY88ukB/s1600/IMG_3406.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtiuXBr2lPKBQNhcxlqSnBJKNhKnEdnJh9Srr_nQFo0eDVY9imEcSQHfmQQuCwPDCqjslr1Z6Bw6B-rTr74M3BeT9rroOX5w3mxk0R0WMhAXI6dokKq1kQVbgN0ss_QWqyvi_ouFY88ukB/s320/IMG_3406.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>First place to go of the day is the university agriculture department where Reneé and I have a square foot garden we´re tending to with the help of an agricultural engineer whose focus is dirt and water. In exchange for his guidance we help him tend to other gardens and provide him with more research. Our reason for being here is to learn more before teaching families in the neighborhood about utizlizing their home-made compost to make a vegetable garden.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy9cdh62kpoHgqEN-XXTxx9eH_5eHK_fzZLDzB4lllxpuakJ0j61hJsk2Sb2y8mERYKojdy2PdZ99G0q3VGroF0e-dZeXdD6o5VyRLyfnMP_yafe-KYFI9z81Nv108MB8lHiNvZhott04X/s1600/IMG_3419.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy9cdh62kpoHgqEN-XXTxx9eH_5eHK_fzZLDzB4lllxpuakJ0j61hJsk2Sb2y8mERYKojdy2PdZ99G0q3VGroF0e-dZeXdD6o5VyRLyfnMP_yafe-KYFI9z81Nv108MB8lHiNvZhott04X/s320/IMG_3419.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Second stop of the day is a neighborhood in the southern zone (characteristically drier and poorer) where there is a chapel of a Maryknoll priest who has an after-school program we´ve been working with to teach them about composting and gardening. I´m shoveling out very old food waste to use in a new composter. Smelly stuff.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGXV5OSzwtwtzbcYEm_fOFOGm1ZCBXGQlvLEMKIUpXe2c8e8KE0W-4vzGCNsY3P2OJ4qxQRrxAL7zsWEA1bFawdUCpGgIxhVFMy2weGhXvCBJD-jYvNwbWlVnmdA_j_7QgQB_PtrLO_c7/s1600/IMG_3424.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGXV5OSzwtwtzbcYEm_fOFOGm1ZCBXGQlvLEMKIUpXe2c8e8KE0W-4vzGCNsY3P2OJ4qxQRrxAL7zsWEA1bFawdUCpGgIxhVFMy2weGhXvCBJD-jYvNwbWlVnmdA_j_7QgQB_PtrLO_c7/s320/IMG_3424.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Putting the final dry leaves into a tire composter Reneé and I have just put together at the chapel with the after-school program. The kids used the compost we harvested several months ago to mix in with the dirt to start a garden, which now has lots of spinach, brocoli, swiss chard to pick with the kids very soon.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznHgNqZHPqeeVcMjxtgVhGgBq55qVDsS4ZSCJHbxlsQJxR0AVfRskY687tBeWS0iSNT0a5d408zwL5Ls7CbNqBeKaKLcm1woT84880ap5uhbdhVwO6jurRLHjk2B8E0HnETrXC5TXfVls/s1600/IMG_3425.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznHgNqZHPqeeVcMjxtgVhGgBq55qVDsS4ZSCJHbxlsQJxR0AVfRskY687tBeWS0iSNT0a5d408zwL5Ls7CbNqBeKaKLcm1woT84880ap5uhbdhVwO6jurRLHjk2B8E0HnETrXC5TXfVls/s320/IMG_3425.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>On my way home for lunch from the southern zone, I came across a group of people yelling at a driver of a trufi, which is a type of vehicle in the public transportation fleet. The people are blocking him from passing, probably because he wants to charge 2 bolivianos, instead of 1.50 bolivianos. As I write this, the fight continues and I´m home today because there is no public transportation for reasons of blockades and strikes.<br /> <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqwN3LGyQjLas7GQAUXgiyJU0tSrv9F4mpq4UA_YK6RaoDgsAiEyr4Kx6DVCHid8ujXZ4zLVFFZUnYDoWVfEJJnJf4VAhFQBXCqEAxacCHvHrzHFcrN3rxyZkiIbTXASa4DWck95Ua6uV/s1600/IMG_3428.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqwN3LGyQjLas7GQAUXgiyJU0tSrv9F4mpq4UA_YK6RaoDgsAiEyr4Kx6DVCHid8ujXZ4zLVFFZUnYDoWVfEJJnJf4VAhFQBXCqEAxacCHvHrzHFcrN3rxyZkiIbTXASa4DWck95Ua6uV/s320/IMG_3428.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>This is a common scene I walk past multiple times a day in the city. It is common that women from poorer more rural places of Potosi or Oruro bring their children to the city of Cochabamba to beg for money.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQXSpBtD6IUhYkno_sJ081nwkDIy43zJULaqGlwbgSbb_zp4icjU_yBEaOz5Mv9s1rSZ0wMlnhl6l5wMBhJ90QA21lv8lXc852n_zYAHaysKgIWOjNpTiguo190xaJjmnDOidj72EvbOy/s1600/IMG_3511.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQXSpBtD6IUhYkno_sJ081nwkDIy43zJULaqGlwbgSbb_zp4icjU_yBEaOz5Mv9s1rSZ0wMlnhl6l5wMBhJ90QA21lv8lXc852n_zYAHaysKgIWOjNpTiguo190xaJjmnDOidj72EvbOy/s320/IMG_3511.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>As is in the United States, many people simply walk past the begging women and their kids. I am not saying that one should or that I do give them something every time, but I try to at least acknowledge them by saying hello. I have a moral dilema on a daily basis of what I should do.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtj_TYLQ2tB8FuSzRls_69WhWnj6gymp-CA_kc_JZ43XfUbC6iHDYWqQ5Hcu66acsMn2ejqElVuJOwYeGfQXqoI5EELqXGysxtir9ZQSuoTkTAUjMEC_joQY24ImvWYRNsgYf4HlLPHab4/s1600/IMG_3516.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtj_TYLQ2tB8FuSzRls_69WhWnj6gymp-CA_kc_JZ43XfUbC6iHDYWqQ5Hcu66acsMn2ejqElVuJOwYeGfQXqoI5EELqXGysxtir9ZQSuoTkTAUjMEC_joQY24ImvWYRNsgYf4HlLPHab4/s320/IMG_3516.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Every day I carry my food waste down to the tire composter we set up in the garden of the social center where I live. And every day the kids who are my neighbors at the center, rush to help carry it down and dump it in the tires.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7iZfo-tfso_gsSig0zvovHABMz0gmcMPrsSe_iyGXa2rcOhlXf6akYQewV2YJlm0ng0_Y42CBSN2yhuTLWZ4QMqhvdxCwwvO7wepPbInxKNG7jChGV8-t4w48oqEfvc7orKYQRPzKkft1/s1600/IMG_3430.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7iZfo-tfso_gsSig0zvovHABMz0gmcMPrsSe_iyGXa2rcOhlXf6akYQewV2YJlm0ng0_Y42CBSN2yhuTLWZ4QMqhvdxCwwvO7wepPbInxKNG7jChGV8-t4w48oqEfvc7orKYQRPzKkft1/s320/IMG_3430.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>I´m so lucky to get much-needed hugs from my "mamá" as I am her daughter "Fabiana", or at least that's what we like to pretend.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRzHtJK2znbNuLwVMKexOKe1PnpcivEDztm3COjGGO7P7vt_oAYZA1Pow7TEBFQ28WnUjLotarSy14pz3WB-0TuCyMTCv8CRTqzZ2hEBHdDn9wmIFuGfUrCQZB_E2dMGTr_kdGWc5BGxV/s1600/IMG_3434.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRzHtJK2znbNuLwVMKexOKe1PnpcivEDztm3COjGGO7P7vt_oAYZA1Pow7TEBFQ28WnUjLotarSy14pz3WB-0TuCyMTCv8CRTqzZ2hEBHdDn9wmIFuGfUrCQZB_E2dMGTr_kdGWc5BGxV/s320/IMG_3434.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Me and my gentleman. Almost daily he offers to carry my bookbag, open my door, carry my stinky food waste to the composter, wash my clothes or trim bushes in the garden. He's a favorite of everyone's but he knows he's cute so he gets away with a little too much... <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkx25y-MO-ic3AJpxgPn2-oEhOCYA_sz-ouTWvBBKnxhrjtEjrThEOf7Vv7n6XC8fk4RFdkC0sXYhFsfaZLs66vgPLLI3aPNhxEunPvIcBfdipGuBXDk6rJx56MuSI4QkKvGN736Gmlb_/s1600/IMG_3439.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkx25y-MO-ic3AJpxgPn2-oEhOCYA_sz-ouTWvBBKnxhrjtEjrThEOf7Vv7n6XC8fk4RFdkC0sXYhFsfaZLs66vgPLLI3aPNhxEunPvIcBfdipGuBXDk6rJx56MuSI4QkKvGN736Gmlb_/s320/IMG_3439.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>In the afternoon I go to work in the office and trim bushes at the office of the Franciscan Movement of Justice and Peace. There I have a desk with the NGO Franciscans International, which works at the United Nations to communicate what´s going on around the world within the Franciscan family. This is a peace post in 4 of many languages in Bolivia.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5UDPw8rdSFLB5uZof5fPyoKiUzoaHf2rTqsKA87JS1pVELOiQrtUTVKZzWbbD9xlavmWNgV9R7ZucMCggPzrptU3uKMIckeeD8TI5byhYbRSFJRARkrlmwgUqySbVrAqSr3QU0MtxNW_/s1600/IMG_3446.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5UDPw8rdSFLB5uZof5fPyoKiUzoaHf2rTqsKA87JS1pVELOiQrtUTVKZzWbbD9xlavmWNgV9R7ZucMCggPzrptU3uKMIckeeD8TI5byhYbRSFJRARkrlmwgUqySbVrAqSr3QU0MtxNW_/s320/IMG_3446.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Standard afternoon coffe/tea/bread break in the office of Justice and Peace.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QzsvyLYku9qs8OECw7pdIiZb_9u-HF-wtm91CtelmLHV0oBneS2_pTr3Y-0WtTsBEc2tzIZBfLYWMpfgZ10G9hbv04h4RXk8XI8xzsdJpx-AjaCE5xPpDOdij3fe3pkZc5H5LrgfE4yt/s1600/IMG_3448.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QzsvyLYku9qs8OECw7pdIiZb_9u-HF-wtm91CtelmLHV0oBneS2_pTr3Y-0WtTsBEc2tzIZBfLYWMpfgZ10G9hbv04h4RXk8XI8xzsdJpx-AjaCE5xPpDOdij3fe3pkZc5H5LrgfE4yt/s320/IMG_3448.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>Unfortunately I don´t get to spend all day outside. At this desk I do various things such as preparing for the radio show we have ¨Onda Verde¨ which means Green Wave, and its focus is encouraging environmental awareness and integrity of creation.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRjQzinm8s_BcMDDJ_QIOAoKJxqgAA9o2ch2YzDYSSFx5wJtcaTDlU7HX7TGKtaQKFHuwlKPhVmCd_f1dQ8pvcTtj8dZZPMCnsBfKxcbfj7uJjyEByo1WkJfBSTf1pH66itLnSN9XAvLw/s1600/IMG_3452.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRjQzinm8s_BcMDDJ_QIOAoKJxqgAA9o2ch2YzDYSSFx5wJtcaTDlU7HX7TGKtaQKFHuwlKPhVmCd_f1dQ8pvcTtj8dZZPMCnsBfKxcbfj7uJjyEByo1WkJfBSTf1pH66itLnSN9XAvLw/s320/IMG_3452.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>After I get home about 6pm, some of my neighbors, kids recovering from burns, help out in the social center´s garden.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyADanNW2GY-GETNfe0UIh1r9XBfibUrkEAdXIL8LrO-SOA0wrDshrH443eu8dBHYn1SmDGSyQn5gwuAHrkzX4UOfUy4xv9Oae_qvb5uOHe4lnI6vD9PNfWVcMK5qHZrrQ1wMKA9WJufZi/s1600/IMG_3463.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyADanNW2GY-GETNfe0UIh1r9XBfibUrkEAdXIL8LrO-SOA0wrDshrH443eu8dBHYn1SmDGSyQn5gwuAHrkzX4UOfUy4xv9Oae_qvb5uOHe4lnI6vD9PNfWVcMK5qHZrrQ1wMKA9WJufZi/s320/IMG_3463.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>As I walk back from the post office later that night, I come across one of many people selling things on the sidewalk. While hard to see, this woman is wearing a long skirt, typical apron, two long braids and is selling belts on the sidewalk. Bolivians seem to be very good at just making themselves a spot in the market anywhere.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdQjLHMJSdiLQiXCNz5GEF7gqdQPzFcGxCjxbFxsl1fN0iseSfImUtXujTGzVhf9xWevi7Cs28gsnkUT0X7QX-n4cJnc9dVS6qWMrkSrmKZeCLLu181mXS2yQRSTUUgfxFyiws2c20Gq5/s1600/IMG_3510.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdQjLHMJSdiLQiXCNz5GEF7gqdQPzFcGxCjxbFxsl1fN0iseSfImUtXujTGzVhf9xWevi7Cs28gsnkUT0X7QX-n4cJnc9dVS6qWMrkSrmKZeCLLu181mXS2yQRSTUUgfxFyiws2c20Gq5/s320/IMG_3510.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>This particular day I cooked and ate both lunch and dinner by myself because my roommate was working and eats there, but that's not always the case. After all that, I was tired and put off doing my chores in order to escape into a tv show series I have on DVD before going to sleep. This is not necessarily an average day because each day is different, but it's a little sampling of my daily life.<br /><br />5 Things I'm thankful for today: good walking shoes so that I can walk multiple hours a day without discomfort because there is no public transportation currently due to strikes; amazingness of sugar and butter and chocolate to still create delicious brownies despite my crooked un-insulated oven that tends to spite me; the softball team I've joined that I'm going to practice with tonight and the women on the team who bring me a lot of joy; I'm about to go see the kids from the Cerro Verde after-school group today for the first time since summer vacation ended; the rains that while flooding some areas here are also making everything so much greener!Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-62340565669849280402010-12-12T14:13:00.000-08:002010-12-12T14:56:06.354-08:00Being a StrangerIt’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).<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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?<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgpInTNH7whg5LbXAP1TYNMhTUCF1LyYSAHx_WREGqDijuZhTpWtCJQ-W0kPI848P86MfpvqQo5X0uJsdzHoDruU6cYrx3WGkTecme5x5_HVWA6I-CB6Iwbz2eKlpp0z_XV0EljekC1Q0/s1600/IMG_2719.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgpInTNH7whg5LbXAP1TYNMhTUCF1LyYSAHx_WREGqDijuZhTpWtCJQ-W0kPI848P86MfpvqQo5X0uJsdzHoDruU6cYrx3WGkTecme5x5_HVWA6I-CB6Iwbz2eKlpp0z_XV0EljekC1Q0/s320/IMG_2719.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXc0P9WMof1g5sicd-cacPhc5qb1cqsoWjyTsksmOKSJopiIwoLiYlBN2lpq6vtKdh3p8TC9oAOKdvOgNaO9mjL0xBBZPPF4ct7gcYrg8hC8g4NIzuuImy1rYd9UAS_dqI8U1BOFyfuL3I/s1600/IMG_2731.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXc0P9WMof1g5sicd-cacPhc5qb1cqsoWjyTsksmOKSJopiIwoLiYlBN2lpq6vtKdh3p8TC9oAOKdvOgNaO9mjL0xBBZPPF4ct7gcYrg8hC8g4NIzuuImy1rYd9UAS_dqI8U1BOFyfuL3I/s320/IMG_2731.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyKmzyns_NnqpCH-SAtX0vxTjW4hB_-RErubBdrfD0ddm93SPzF011mqLkqw0Bg0pU8zhy_ScOfAA_Uj1rRqo01ua9uzwvN9AG7SuPJBhKT1i3fn3BT-gJblS1CVZFpYZiI6IRHaIgSHT/s1600/IMG_2757.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyKmzyns_NnqpCH-SAtX0vxTjW4hB_-RErubBdrfD0ddm93SPzF011mqLkqw0Bg0pU8zhy_ScOfAA_Uj1rRqo01ua9uzwvN9AG7SuPJBhKT1i3fn3BT-gJblS1CVZFpYZiI6IRHaIgSHT/s320/IMG_2757.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />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. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZajCvK3TZkY2RKFRlBi_vM7Yvcbctu-EENGCCc1IW0g-MAollmqd0XSc0c6gixAo2NWUH0sN-i4s3K6fdRNiiUH6ihVv02McELvVSnohMMtEjjxME3HnlUCxKT82JebMNwOmBqWvUDnz/s1600/IMG_2798.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZajCvK3TZkY2RKFRlBi_vM7Yvcbctu-EENGCCc1IW0g-MAollmqd0XSc0c6gixAo2NWUH0sN-i4s3K6fdRNiiUH6ihVv02McELvVSnohMMtEjjxME3HnlUCxKT82JebMNwOmBqWvUDnz/s320/IMG_2798.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQyQ5ekyuNUHyWENMtKLdofcjSZicz6ZVPHS7nGl4CD21-Olzm-HhXPhEZwzDUZMoSHGzMiDI-0GtzgNRWh29BGpaNB67rmFJ2B6eqqJqaRU9m-oF4mB6hVhkrVAhy49iTi8kH93Hs2ZT/s1600/IMG_2737.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQyQ5ekyuNUHyWENMtKLdofcjSZicz6ZVPHS7nGl4CD21-Olzm-HhXPhEZwzDUZMoSHGzMiDI-0GtzgNRWh29BGpaNB67rmFJ2B6eqqJqaRU9m-oF4mB6hVhkrVAhy49iTi8kH93Hs2ZT/s320/IMG_2737.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDj7FF_pyTjKo932Xy2Uho1APv2n6z2TDqqcpDromO8tiiaZXiAeqtdELqgCzSUhlhpBee9VFCqcm6Z-n-6PODb7oXBqOjm07JKsyONl1ysauAoV1wp-IffqvB2ts6TekPyLxj63YjRFh/s1600/IMG_2767.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDj7FF_pyTjKo932Xy2Uho1APv2n6z2TDqqcpDromO8tiiaZXiAeqtdELqgCzSUhlhpBee9VFCqcm6Z-n-6PODb7oXBqOjm07JKsyONl1ysauAoV1wp-IffqvB2ts6TekPyLxj63YjRFh/s320/IMG_2767.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhmE73hnkeI4D-acqo-oLS21KZTa5ovQhmfkSXt5xsVow0JqI_7-M5fZapD7rJy-fFn6L1PWvD07aQX51Y_RnN8J9tb6bN1YjMQdP4C6AwLSbgIZFaobmT1YS-GHXhNtUookxkNT4jnYB/s1600/IMG_2772.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhmE73hnkeI4D-acqo-oLS21KZTa5ovQhmfkSXt5xsVow0JqI_7-M5fZapD7rJy-fFn6L1PWvD07aQX51Y_RnN8J9tb6bN1YjMQdP4C6AwLSbgIZFaobmT1YS-GHXhNtUookxkNT4jnYB/s320/IMG_2772.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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!<br /><br />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.<br />For more pictures, please go to <br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/DecemberBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCKiipKDG0qnZQQ#">http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/DecemberBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCKiipKDG0qnZQQ#</a>Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-28690258455702829462010-11-11T11:46:00.000-08:002010-11-11T12:37:50.375-08:00Gump said it bestEvery 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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBO6-o0TNsU6qyyWnOk6bNxXttzdRgIfthKwiFMxnySs1NGHPDKhJQGvf-Gn0Tsxojg6g6Cav6pXhDqknrA2bed2OKZLgm7X1_m-pAil1WhseMiQBkMqu5U570xvhRI7IlRBOLv6rz2dDL/s1600/IMG_2314.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBO6-o0TNsU6qyyWnOk6bNxXttzdRgIfthKwiFMxnySs1NGHPDKhJQGvf-Gn0Tsxojg6g6Cav6pXhDqknrA2bed2OKZLgm7X1_m-pAil1WhseMiQBkMqu5U570xvhRI7IlRBOLv6rz2dDL/s320/IMG_2314.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8ysjPjKs6CbA8QT6h6Zn4mqCiyQWTHUnTaz5WgFPNFocWrL4nvAnef8ZXWuVxn7CWz5W0VprTY2Wrxd9m7OQmpvGQbiofwMnIjskQ4j1PVXAUkyLxKIgzgK9ZjaI0W3ec_aBGVS2zhcu/s1600/IMG_2475.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8ysjPjKs6CbA8QT6h6Zn4mqCiyQWTHUnTaz5WgFPNFocWrL4nvAnef8ZXWuVxn7CWz5W0VprTY2Wrxd9m7OQmpvGQbiofwMnIjskQ4j1PVXAUkyLxKIgzgK9ZjaI0W3ec_aBGVS2zhcu/s320/IMG_2475.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhUh0KZzNNVCMZ_foFFH2DauMIy99fTfFU84m_v_OYY-kecZnxLuXwH82JQl9CW9BBTVnei63ir-KJPNsVwFrdl9PO71obC391Hh3pw4eab6XoDdGupK7_L_bUX94LLmgxFI2iQjfuq-0q/s1600/IMG_2537.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhUh0KZzNNVCMZ_foFFH2DauMIy99fTfFU84m_v_OYY-kecZnxLuXwH82JQl9CW9BBTVnei63ir-KJPNsVwFrdl9PO71obC391Hh3pw4eab6XoDdGupK7_L_bUX94LLmgxFI2iQjfuq-0q/s320/IMG_2537.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2scUnU5qcLYHsxMyX144XRcluHXolP4x59jIXckhzbtvl2uVEymGmW-YOkCeNy7eCqgEeTj63hZ_spqUJY41rXDpW3wuPwqzmPmZ8WiSmtwg4I6ATmE_56UCuwgyXcQ1olE5mBsHj0cZh/s1600/IMG_2567.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2scUnU5qcLYHsxMyX144XRcluHXolP4x59jIXckhzbtvl2uVEymGmW-YOkCeNy7eCqgEeTj63hZ_spqUJY41rXDpW3wuPwqzmPmZ8WiSmtwg4I6ATmE_56UCuwgyXcQ1olE5mBsHj0cZh/s320/IMG_2567.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NEOmN_MDasWLCNc3kDSMRbToLzg3-0mN1CvZyfL1ZFCc6gHn6ynepJWTeugoB8HARlgF2QmZOAcRF2SnmgYpB9t6uSZBJSrMNbj8EpvtKpmq_FZm3HvslNSl6W2dPQZpW9sJyk1HACYe/s1600/IMG_2562.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NEOmN_MDasWLCNc3kDSMRbToLzg3-0mN1CvZyfL1ZFCc6gHn6ynepJWTeugoB8HARlgF2QmZOAcRF2SnmgYpB9t6uSZBJSrMNbj8EpvtKpmq_FZm3HvslNSl6W2dPQZpW9sJyk1HACYe/s320/IMG_2562.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br />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).<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFPEiwP_7KE58u8GdQnZmRBRX2pXmWgwwzoHYDh0Jrw2r61iL0XJjU-lTBcZp9tYr3PKmebmQIDqru0pfequq8shb62l11fvcciP0uUzEDg-1bBvnZdMkOVD4EdHIKfNbHkvy2n2wp-Wc/s1600/IMG_2587.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFPEiwP_7KE58u8GdQnZmRBRX2pXmWgwwzoHYDh0Jrw2r61iL0XJjU-lTBcZp9tYr3PKmebmQIDqru0pfequq8shb62l11fvcciP0uUzEDg-1bBvnZdMkOVD4EdHIKfNbHkvy2n2wp-Wc/s320/IMG_2587.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6oU4Bn0V1nDVBJJ9T7s4ngDUWFaxmzyanRKGYB6Wih-85nWbovEIaMa3kp-i30FMmUePkzf4GnoKOg38NmTUZOtfiYr6uLaNbYr3l1yVVae6jsFhJWAiqsKE84p_R7tp1jO_u4_xqCPf/s1600/IMG_2598.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6oU4Bn0V1nDVBJJ9T7s4ngDUWFaxmzyanRKGYB6Wih-85nWbovEIaMa3kp-i30FMmUePkzf4GnoKOg38NmTUZOtfiYr6uLaNbYr3l1yVVae6jsFhJWAiqsKE84p_R7tp1jO_u4_xqCPf/s320/IMG_2598.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1PxRyAV1kTi8VrdsCA_-9_NGoTFrSfX7odHxaBbYXY2283Ad0AVHipjNs4imCRw_Q1BrFnSiG-oIcIPbuTvxRLJqjLbzz52Qme2OztD6Kx2L-iuEJMKdrNvjEW0_eDnf7gIFfBAHtsfO/s1600/IMG_2618.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1PxRyAV1kTi8VrdsCA_-9_NGoTFrSfX7odHxaBbYXY2283Ad0AVHipjNs4imCRw_Q1BrFnSiG-oIcIPbuTvxRLJqjLbzz52Qme2OztD6Kx2L-iuEJMKdrNvjEW0_eDnf7gIFfBAHtsfO/s320/IMG_2618.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bYTsp-JNqCRIxsPSQ887cDngDQFep2tdGq5nKquqDyB9KhWMZCx4nLKMM5I9YYLxrmt_4IxmCwed25KK5XwRxbinT1kFWPo9mm1-lSy8pB9smNSu3GqXFddMVycOHFB4MltIxeM46Ywu/s1600/IMG_2639.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bYTsp-JNqCRIxsPSQ887cDngDQFep2tdGq5nKquqDyB9KhWMZCx4nLKMM5I9YYLxrmt_4IxmCwed25KK5XwRxbinT1kFWPo9mm1-lSy8pB9smNSu3GqXFddMVycOHFB4MltIxeM46Ywu/s320/IMG_2639.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>A little "I love Lucy" moment<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzTDBGpqKqBCSHLXknSm-wLaYJ1sDGCcBejq-18Zsteq0dxbXjq9_mOL9KAfiVQHVbHFggOhSkkFCAsbuXRt3lZyKq8-fpqx6s-r4XAQ-JVWlia11w1Et804pYtlGHTeF1si0MUKnlSc8/s1600/IMG_2624.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzTDBGpqKqBCSHLXknSm-wLaYJ1sDGCcBejq-18Zsteq0dxbXjq9_mOL9KAfiVQHVbHFggOhSkkFCAsbuXRt3lZyKq8-fpqx6s-r4XAQ-JVWlia11w1Et804pYtlGHTeF1si0MUKnlSc8/s320/IMG_2624.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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).<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGyW34J72ViFIgO_UxcyXy-rWlLAoleNHMSp3nO3KFPlzYFbba7JlAxG6_-b2uAdHXixHt_Jyf0Id90BU68zH1-GOzYCBXZQOAaKhhQCOKZiUbajxgTmtDqIvzIkIkDYGtOcDwF4U9HZp/s1600/IMG_2658.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGyW34J72ViFIgO_UxcyXy-rWlLAoleNHMSp3nO3KFPlzYFbba7JlAxG6_-b2uAdHXixHt_Jyf0Id90BU68zH1-GOzYCBXZQOAaKhhQCOKZiUbajxgTmtDqIvzIkIkDYGtOcDwF4U9HZp/s320/IMG_2658.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73vwlM5vnbvQH3L7rmubUa5k9V1iVeEGZDFZOBKUgEsUtDBtyKz1cQ0B5oZBLpeN4mS6ysr5yZtJYQxXzX_mFbx3GlOTkC7Ad8l7in7ufrY5vkEyyRc9zL8AtZBxV7jnLaEXTH3Mrn9JT/s1600/IMG_2663.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73vwlM5vnbvQH3L7rmubUa5k9V1iVeEGZDFZOBKUgEsUtDBtyKz1cQ0B5oZBLpeN4mS6ysr5yZtJYQxXzX_mFbx3GlOTkC7Ad8l7in7ufrY5vkEyyRc9zL8AtZBxV7jnLaEXTH3Mrn9JT/s320/IMG_2663.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImk1IQMBsEtStJtmsCv_vpwpGE30G3Ixc3p3MLNV21dIDaEhmxeGhV-QdfXjbJXesYYznWZZk-d63eue21KcFuvi6psEuZ6sWjtY_CA6UwPDAU49Ogywhf-p9g43OhMb9CWu6rKB5Fhr-/s1600/IMG_2664.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImk1IQMBsEtStJtmsCv_vpwpGE30G3Ixc3p3MLNV21dIDaEhmxeGhV-QdfXjbJXesYYznWZZk-d63eue21KcFuvi6psEuZ6sWjtY_CA6UwPDAU49Ogywhf-p9g43OhMb9CWu6rKB5Fhr-/s320/IMG_2664.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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?<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOe42t5ZL5VvrrgrPWlARA7ZAyqZ89sDfoxkuClnWjXMugd3Zk72jv5Ur4AdEBVg0lR8ICyklGgDCyu0tsmwaFcW4RGe7f-4n02_SpWPYey9GgP6d-U68D0ctscm6Z_4cZwE0JzvvIxxZD/s1600/IMG_2684.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOe42t5ZL5VvrrgrPWlARA7ZAyqZ89sDfoxkuClnWjXMugd3Zk72jv5Ur4AdEBVg0lR8ICyklGgDCyu0tsmwaFcW4RGe7f-4n02_SpWPYey9GgP6d-U68D0ctscm6Z_4cZwE0JzvvIxxZD/s320/IMG_2684.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />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. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNag9nlE3kWPnGgGHFGoB-uJlilclTeoRq2Dr645DRM-ENZOLTeK9AZTtzQd17Zwt1Vrjo_YYm10fuPn1zGkc53bqfWtxYdE4Oa_gQkV_CVlz3DdVwOO9iGeTiUNsRNpaTse2w1omocONt/s1600/IMG_2691.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNag9nlE3kWPnGgGHFGoB-uJlilclTeoRq2Dr645DRM-ENZOLTeK9AZTtzQd17Zwt1Vrjo_YYm10fuPn1zGkc53bqfWtxYdE4Oa_gQkV_CVlz3DdVwOO9iGeTiUNsRNpaTse2w1omocONt/s320/IMG_2691.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcoZeVhI7bO1w1hrT4PwrURdjLF85coTixPt1xLNLOdwU_g8poww_YnavVtlr1rY_HluWUgyXKHphucuKKMaqpvPAYiSlSwmLvMROywu1u63jVN_OFbiF-rd3FOS52sUYRHoNmXzYgXFr/s1600/IMG_2708.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcoZeVhI7bO1w1hrT4PwrURdjLF85coTixPt1xLNLOdwU_g8poww_YnavVtlr1rY_HluWUgyXKHphucuKKMaqpvPAYiSlSwmLvMROywu1u63jVN_OFbiF-rd3FOS52sUYRHoNmXzYgXFr/s320/IMG_2708.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa1_v73LoKh2JTiyBLSg50U4J2N9yvNebX6cenlyMF0wWcCK_IVIgSjHw7XpUUx_6smYu3KCnFyBfWi5fdbfAjv8AH2VDNug4sbN2KIMZVIJ2ymTv9Dp5TwDX3iM67eCDQl5dGu5rhKUg/s1600/IMG_2714.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa1_v73LoKh2JTiyBLSg50U4J2N9yvNebX6cenlyMF0wWcCK_IVIgSjHw7XpUUx_6smYu3KCnFyBfWi5fdbfAjv8AH2VDNug4sbN2KIMZVIJ2ymTv9Dp5TwDX3iM67eCDQl5dGu5rhKUg/s320/IMG_2714.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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?<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ac_dLybG8TloMWWnHNN-6yCgKjh0mK9ZmoHONeZYjw6gYY5sSk4iL3PNeW4Gm9-u5REUIQli2_4rOjURQxZ0DwYCC6J569hcelS2cRVvVznpBVa5LIZcQSDlh9BNfFDHQNarAAaS4bQr/s1600/IMG_2700.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ac_dLybG8TloMWWnHNN-6yCgKjh0mK9ZmoHONeZYjw6gYY5sSk4iL3PNeW4Gm9-u5REUIQli2_4rOjURQxZ0DwYCC6J569hcelS2cRVvVznpBVa5LIZcQSDlh9BNfFDHQNarAAaS4bQr/s320/IMG_2700.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br />For more pictures, please go to <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/NovemberBlog#">http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/NovemberBlog#</a>Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-36546979634333234002010-10-16T08:42:00.000-07:002010-10-16T09:59:19.499-07:00Springtime, What am I doing? Urkupiña, Pedestrian DayHappy 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <a href="http://www.ecobolivia.org/en/videos-madidi.php">http://www.ecobolivia.org/en/videos-madidi.php </a>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomZ3D6jk23DkGXLpdxgikYYUnNXVkscOnDGNfooJxC6MaZjjMzQTYuKVfYcoxdzF57sWpa8sgN6EWCrNBktxYLXVNmmZsExHJ75k1yyO1aBN3Q7s-OKnPJkhcVqfEskwiTugJdbtm2bOH/s1600/IMG_2395.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomZ3D6jk23DkGXLpdxgikYYUnNXVkscOnDGNfooJxC6MaZjjMzQTYuKVfYcoxdzF57sWpa8sgN6EWCrNBktxYLXVNmmZsExHJ75k1yyO1aBN3Q7s-OKnPJkhcVqfEskwiTugJdbtm2bOH/s320/IMG_2395.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZMEqkXPOgnGCzr6CVpuVGvLfiWGoZZNnD6w73AxY8hhsa133H6jJc9ZM_kKm2lZLIFBRRl0Q15VaYKJXM9bSQiU_dPJbtp7DAWLCgv1sUO0qRiEj0AO0awWzP1sUEUf-ia_lWNdvr10B/s1600/IMG_2397.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZMEqkXPOgnGCzr6CVpuVGvLfiWGoZZNnD6w73AxY8hhsa133H6jJc9ZM_kKm2lZLIFBRRl0Q15VaYKJXM9bSQiU_dPJbtp7DAWLCgv1sUO0qRiEj0AO0awWzP1sUEUf-ia_lWNdvr10B/s320/IMG_2397.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zqiLvPY4iQKjnwqJ19BDjvgUvqa1dShFLcgp72Tkjp7A9bRFrQfb4PI9BRbLZVPq7gO06gFhfLKjFht_tuZf-R4U9m4jK2NHXPRT39_dIoOKDia_M4SvvavDbLMWYdU2HeO_CvQT3pX1/s1600/IMG_2519.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zqiLvPY4iQKjnwqJ19BDjvgUvqa1dShFLcgp72Tkjp7A9bRFrQfb4PI9BRbLZVPq7gO06gFhfLKjFht_tuZf-R4U9m4jK2NHXPRT39_dIoOKDia_M4SvvavDbLMWYdU2HeO_CvQT3pX1/s320/IMG_2519.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br />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…<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6o-Bzb0NbHOawNmeZh4b-VGsGDER3Z-2A4klj2y8UcXrF1_QTVYI_ja08UDj3Us5n8cHM9UySIthgiqBr-Ni8x4Xcs-82JYYL2nb8S1BMrzJWaeNDhbki1comb_h2R_zGywOmC37TCXt/s1600/IMG_2234.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6o-Bzb0NbHOawNmeZh4b-VGsGDER3Z-2A4klj2y8UcXrF1_QTVYI_ja08UDj3Us5n8cHM9UySIthgiqBr-Ni8x4Xcs-82JYYL2nb8S1BMrzJWaeNDhbki1comb_h2R_zGywOmC37TCXt/s320/IMG_2234.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /> <br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOIKp5hVM62JbXeAnlkGfJKZ3H51u8duPFUDv1_uTxx_ApG5HqDHv27gYp5-q-sJDe_t6TE-PbO_nutWPLiGf1g057olOPqZ6WPswS4EMniAz4qitWRhTCJg9jV8nWGbBdhV2fC8K3Rqk/s1600/IMG_2270.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOIKp5hVM62JbXeAnlkGfJKZ3H51u8duPFUDv1_uTxx_ApG5HqDHv27gYp5-q-sJDe_t6TE-PbO_nutWPLiGf1g057olOPqZ6WPswS4EMniAz4qitWRhTCJg9jV8nWGbBdhV2fC8K3Rqk/s320/IMG_2270.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8LQClkmPJwWZo2OLVeQYsvs5cR465fvFejZolbBZ6Y13W2sK9MKVJSTS1P2GmwmpDApc3QszVit-EVmG9NM_dLKUpyuPgI-L_TNrEamYyRIF06gDJSYPidvbtmRJFVp4N6WWp75tY-uH/s1600/IMG_2284.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8LQClkmPJwWZo2OLVeQYsvs5cR465fvFejZolbBZ6Y13W2sK9MKVJSTS1P2GmwmpDApc3QszVit-EVmG9NM_dLKUpyuPgI-L_TNrEamYyRIF06gDJSYPidvbtmRJFVp4N6WWp75tY-uH/s320/IMG_2284.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyE9myfdrzb8-mqCB7toQ0RJThMPi8ehyphenhyphen1M50vsGiYcB8BkKzuKT_ZkSUCN2R3X83ipxjeqZ7SP0BbirsNwnt5xqx32zKexsYr7FUe87vBqDjgwtbnovOqv_jMJduQCKdRaMdKaeyQeY07/s1600/IMG_2293.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyE9myfdrzb8-mqCB7toQ0RJThMPi8ehyphenhyphen1M50vsGiYcB8BkKzuKT_ZkSUCN2R3X83ipxjeqZ7SP0BbirsNwnt5xqx32zKexsYr7FUe87vBqDjgwtbnovOqv_jMJduQCKdRaMdKaeyQeY07/s320/IMG_2293.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1YyAYYj7NdANT-i4NQ3mrWLVIYUm5AxbtrSAAPKmXNxOySGKjNkPooz1-7bq_CQf2nCMoxoRXA1l1gKR0Nyfomkbne5n86i7ZfHE-5rp2X1CpuVIXAJNJ__cHnzWQ2jXbKpj_5vdMXqV/s1600/IMG_2298.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1YyAYYj7NdANT-i4NQ3mrWLVIYUm5AxbtrSAAPKmXNxOySGKjNkPooz1-7bq_CQf2nCMoxoRXA1l1gKR0Nyfomkbne5n86i7ZfHE-5rp2X1CpuVIXAJNJ__cHnzWQ2jXbKpj_5vdMXqV/s320/IMG_2298.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuN_BRzRs02TrvYjdc__rgEDtwplxLuB8t9uPuOOBxd9lioLsGWA2O7LQY3AqoZQiKF2_q6yTMb1RwW9LvPRMQ6p8teW22sTI_q8htzEUFdSVQxPbERrPP_Z41GG_rkWcSeJpKZJP_hCN/s1600/IMG_2300.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuN_BRzRs02TrvYjdc__rgEDtwplxLuB8t9uPuOOBxd9lioLsGWA2O7LQY3AqoZQiKF2_q6yTMb1RwW9LvPRMQ6p8teW22sTI_q8htzEUFdSVQxPbERrPP_Z41GG_rkWcSeJpKZJP_hCN/s320/IMG_2300.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2soOAqa7UBF-nyKvkgRFZa-gSc55KGD_op7JfYx5BAgO_5XUd-5r-Lw8RNNmQ2MbsZBGXvuTdphrcrcX9Iv77v51Jy37649bUoW5B8OHVqVUmBlqmyYLIY8CV5KYM4nE5TvSGw4RsXehR/s1600/IMG_2304.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2soOAqa7UBF-nyKvkgRFZa-gSc55KGD_op7JfYx5BAgO_5XUd-5r-Lw8RNNmQ2MbsZBGXvuTdphrcrcX9Iv77v51Jy37649bUoW5B8OHVqVUmBlqmyYLIY8CV5KYM4nE5TvSGw4RsXehR/s320/IMG_2304.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhev_xKhVE2gjnxohoR6VmxvIniPtSStWE4fkBSaIsQCBmmTDbplfz6lgBCnncXB4TL_mkmFdAt7ewpaR7WdASb_w-IVGMcM0bpkynHFzdp9xOM3-V4Pved4t26DlhABwSizlSoUaDgHidK/s1600/IMG_2302.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhev_xKhVE2gjnxohoR6VmxvIniPtSStWE4fkBSaIsQCBmmTDbplfz6lgBCnncXB4TL_mkmFdAt7ewpaR7WdASb_w-IVGMcM0bpkynHFzdp9xOM3-V4Pved4t26DlhABwSizlSoUaDgHidK/s320/IMG_2302.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGS56Ndqkw1f-uojUPqrYn8Bgivrk1PO1DIBeaxQQ_aWy635XM0w_qdRwCK8AVwdbOUP3iWZ5IxQsv4mD3-ccRxTFNq8ftK-ZL9VtM8OXv_jk-4cs2dh8cn0EUFv1D5wHY-5OWXhsHPuX/s1600/IMG_2500.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGS56Ndqkw1f-uojUPqrYn8Bgivrk1PO1DIBeaxQQ_aWy635XM0w_qdRwCK8AVwdbOUP3iWZ5IxQsv4mD3-ccRxTFNq8ftK-ZL9VtM8OXv_jk-4cs2dh8cn0EUFv1D5wHY-5OWXhsHPuX/s320/IMG_2500.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhvIHJp2CTBgnrrwVvBkP2xaYydsi7bWro9V5eZHvgPE92qtSlTKhVFNV5sHB57KIWSZofM8xIAXusuMeDV62wledjLauWG8zy2LRE1-sPnzKq2WdhW5iRTzUppMCT6tUCzt5IE9e4RhT/s1600/IMG_2503.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhvIHJp2CTBgnrrwVvBkP2xaYydsi7bWro9V5eZHvgPE92qtSlTKhVFNV5sHB57KIWSZofM8xIAXusuMeDV62wledjLauWG8zy2LRE1-sPnzKq2WdhW5iRTzUppMCT6tUCzt5IE9e4RhT/s320/IMG_2503.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div>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!<br /><br />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<br /><br />For more pictures, please go to <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/SeptemberBlog# ">http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/SeptemberBlog# </a>Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4728165978208074140.post-64991579686947955602010-08-22T18:21:00.000-07:002010-08-22T20:40:49.026-07:00Tires, 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2tqITRDXsP36D_znWUO6x1qHrk2QUwjEGxZ2FZMZX3QUQTH5uFgYCalcVxFRBmAOeF-tNr4tsZVY4CAzeACPPH6ISPk_nC8xnmXVBtwJNNuYOJbDVe2EotyWvX9fukm8QUqIGxI7z-PSI/s1600/IMG_1798.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2tqITRDXsP36D_znWUO6x1qHrk2QUwjEGxZ2FZMZX3QUQTH5uFgYCalcVxFRBmAOeF-tNr4tsZVY4CAzeACPPH6ISPk_nC8xnmXVBtwJNNuYOJbDVe2EotyWvX9fukm8QUqIGxI7z-PSI/s320/IMG_1798.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja3XfqNX1TSBv-hcIjWT-5rOP8oTzpnNByTfCK3m9f9bL1GKjFnrV1El3iIe7npCZpbZtCDIHuXAP5dtIbztzTTfoUAt0bRMqsn3SlPxOaGJ8UdK6sRNthLLe4mUjWCak8j2QMsB7R6hTo/s1600/IMG_1758.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja3XfqNX1TSBv-hcIjWT-5rOP8oTzpnNByTfCK3m9f9bL1GKjFnrV1El3iIe7npCZpbZtCDIHuXAP5dtIbztzTTfoUAt0bRMqsn3SlPxOaGJ8UdK6sRNthLLe4mUjWCak8j2QMsB7R6hTo/s320/IMG_1758.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkXvd6KGc12Exc6AwLj_OJGmBru7bhvqOTdNUEtDiWLhMDaadBdL04Qdhvjy3o7vKUN1_7W62id4S4mcixTkWr3gFdaJ4z4tb3yymjRUQrySlU0-CL8T4Z0ZT_6_ytpzgZXB2FoKp3ju9/s1600/IMG_1771.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkXvd6KGc12Exc6AwLj_OJGmBru7bhvqOTdNUEtDiWLhMDaadBdL04Qdhvjy3o7vKUN1_7W62id4S4mcixTkWr3gFdaJ4z4tb3yymjRUQrySlU0-CL8T4Z0ZT_6_ytpzgZXB2FoKp3ju9/s320/IMG_1771.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> Tires are also great for making planters and when painted, look much better.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGuv2uUUWRHFz1WX6deDkvzncUH8A6OWShTrFoB8rbrcRtI7YLrDw3SzpFzOQiC-s5qhnmZK0Gb5cB7QfJgeHmBwu-duq4BgGoJftb0h0ZhUi6HXoZIjtQOiaK9ilSB7SYPOP30csALW8/s1600/IMG_1799.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGuv2uUUWRHFz1WX6deDkvzncUH8A6OWShTrFoB8rbrcRtI7YLrDw3SzpFzOQiC-s5qhnmZK0Gb5cB7QfJgeHmBwu-duq4BgGoJftb0h0ZhUi6HXoZIjtQOiaK9ilSB7SYPOP30csALW8/s320/IMG_1799.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VlKhdSzqxBSB7G2eSGor83rdFxxGlpvx2-4DL3B7q6mvbVhdQhvdbDdh5imwuDpGdrDIrAm2gqa1RtSuetnxc2Sd9_SCQXTIQM_XrCKvh4qfoS74oeGPhpiXeY4bJiSdJuoQ52yml0mZ/s1600/IMG_1688.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VlKhdSzqxBSB7G2eSGor83rdFxxGlpvx2-4DL3B7q6mvbVhdQhvdbDdh5imwuDpGdrDIrAm2gqa1RtSuetnxc2Sd9_SCQXTIQM_XrCKvh4qfoS74oeGPhpiXeY4bJiSdJuoQ52yml0mZ/s320/IMG_1688.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRPd64oUiFhsNg8ImLy6Q08sL2E1g3jVlPLwGuHGcE_BuJ0qxNaSEuwwmlSNO8S48cHB9zeMtdD-kddsoHoQBhZz_8coVds9PALjcXLPV8ojrG_V2ldo-IvMXrPCsbv5_78eLsHhNKjwV/s1600/IMG_1691.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRPd64oUiFhsNg8ImLy6Q08sL2E1g3jVlPLwGuHGcE_BuJ0qxNaSEuwwmlSNO8S48cHB9zeMtdD-kddsoHoQBhZz_8coVds9PALjcXLPV8ojrG_V2ldo-IvMXrPCsbv5_78eLsHhNKjwV/s320/IMG_1691.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVribWGpP2PwIGFo5_SqmrtdYkajW37wicrWFcJ3eKUxZrP6v3nfVXEbnyJoTDkgJekDx1cak73EfmrOP9KMY3gia8SxHRO1XUoZQGSYiYCV01LpmgG3cTLhVZNlrGfhN5V8btxbdMJ6HO/s1600/IMG_1779.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVribWGpP2PwIGFo5_SqmrtdYkajW37wicrWFcJ3eKUxZrP6v3nfVXEbnyJoTDkgJekDx1cak73EfmrOP9KMY3gia8SxHRO1XUoZQGSYiYCV01LpmgG3cTLhVZNlrGfhN5V8btxbdMJ6HO/s320/IMG_1779.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aBpzX6AlAOEkNbnBqiuquCS2VdYJzXMlGFwAO2eqxbWDE6oXDskUdUEAHizAdUP_OAASzBkzxLA7nhxHVA8lMRsOqk5d6godrUq7kp3qBP4ylpSRLmfKHV8SacGKNkZLBSZON4RUEvJE/s1600/IMG_1780.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aBpzX6AlAOEkNbnBqiuquCS2VdYJzXMlGFwAO2eqxbWDE6oXDskUdUEAHizAdUP_OAASzBkzxLA7nhxHVA8lMRsOqk5d6godrUq7kp3qBP4ylpSRLmfKHV8SacGKNkZLBSZON4RUEvJE/s320/IMG_1780.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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)<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHSqhxM8XK3Sp4q30TtLZbpAxqM0scjTXQ1qKkpGlCpchemrE-1amv3bHE07XthbsI41UVk4T5Hv5EArGbA4jhPvdO9cE4oS2W_zB2-j0KBCna29NKczXmmTZlbbRUSXHM_4TloomTDwF/s1600/IMG_1848.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHSqhxM8XK3Sp4q30TtLZbpAxqM0scjTXQ1qKkpGlCpchemrE-1amv3bHE07XthbsI41UVk4T5Hv5EArGbA4jhPvdO9cE4oS2W_zB2-j0KBCna29NKczXmmTZlbbRUSXHM_4TloomTDwF/s320/IMG_1848.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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 <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFpgjBHydaHy-l2wu3eN2yyRj4fNFRCwED7wvHp3D6KtX-lzs22mYMAUkVxs_2GUtEB6cTs1uUiIiLp21E0ifznm9yP54BNzn9DwH4I3dhttaCBpkksRd1kZRYWgqNPwhXFyxsUqLM0aK/s1600/IMG_1860.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFpgjBHydaHy-l2wu3eN2yyRj4fNFRCwED7wvHp3D6KtX-lzs22mYMAUkVxs_2GUtEB6cTs1uUiIiLp21E0ifznm9yP54BNzn9DwH4I3dhttaCBpkksRd1kZRYWgqNPwhXFyxsUqLM0aK/s320/IMG_1860.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQg0qm0v7HIJT-zdBVOoLfbs6bzEOG2_ddeYYNYDoermOnLzSsY6j7tMi2Cv-cpxqspJEjREsUGaMN2QlUwoThk-2z7iCaOHZaMA2haQy20tabkCZpZxy__papv-7WyHPSEEoASWfTI2V_/s1600/IMG_1943.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQg0qm0v7HIJT-zdBVOoLfbs6bzEOG2_ddeYYNYDoermOnLzSsY6j7tMi2Cv-cpxqspJEjREsUGaMN2QlUwoThk-2z7iCaOHZaMA2haQy20tabkCZpZxy__papv-7WyHPSEEoASWfTI2V_/s320/IMG_1943.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio8MJ_R2ObDd1xj_elhe0vmfXomhJP4mhv-v3CAR9hMs5FYQ5knsl-NNGanSBu6nMZNgT-qvELoQsqBGVBUK-LXQ7QXVMIx77mibsVQEe0J0OvZHDj3m6bTu0NCUW-kDcbTlFIJlusMPrl/s1600/IMG_1920.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio8MJ_R2ObDd1xj_elhe0vmfXomhJP4mhv-v3CAR9hMs5FYQ5knsl-NNGanSBu6nMZNgT-qvELoQsqBGVBUK-LXQ7QXVMIx77mibsVQEe0J0OvZHDj3m6bTu0NCUW-kDcbTlFIJlusMPrl/s320/IMG_1920.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> I couldn't help myself, all those stone walls were just asking to be tested out<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2hXOmnC6Rv3sMEMBw2_XTxkDnwSNBKrc2Pm_FwIHsuUvte6ePvOs4E56hmEyQcQhFhw577b34XuuB38ilXFj3GFdT79kZP4ot4_WAWOaPOU5u5exOJYh23tAM1fMNemr6_nh33r4NzcC/s1600/IMG_1923.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2hXOmnC6Rv3sMEMBw2_XTxkDnwSNBKrc2Pm_FwIHsuUvte6ePvOs4E56hmEyQcQhFhw577b34XuuB38ilXFj3GFdT79kZP4ot4_WAWOaPOU5u5exOJYh23tAM1fMNemr6_nh33r4NzcC/s320/IMG_1923.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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.<br /><br />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). <br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUkUI-lrz8egPjtSOzfBjopFr5jyqtpRpXPyLWWqAh928CpfSVDEpLMJ5Jorvi85on0jSglNJP-COQeTZ6aynbQgVF86jQzfyHK5akiLEdVWSxlrqOobKjFH8f0V23Ye11XD40YUfhJEo/s1600/IMG_1965.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUkUI-lrz8egPjtSOzfBjopFr5jyqtpRpXPyLWWqAh928CpfSVDEpLMJ5Jorvi85on0jSglNJP-COQeTZ6aynbQgVF86jQzfyHK5akiLEdVWSxlrqOobKjFH8f0V23Ye11XD40YUfhJEo/s320/IMG_1965.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlSt73c0fUtXcHqHpbwtzAMRw6PDJSlv9u-9vbGVWJODAbuj9p7xoHBXf2HbudWCVrh2zvkplWAC-kT3nz9x1VlC5Ps_lzVSlYPcfb-VPLfrc9jJqo60Y1ZkzmrVqGMnCOdxVwb29qHuk/s1600/IMG_1983.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlSt73c0fUtXcHqHpbwtzAMRw6PDJSlv9u-9vbGVWJODAbuj9p7xoHBXf2HbudWCVrh2zvkplWAC-kT3nz9x1VlC5Ps_lzVSlYPcfb-VPLfrc9jJqo60Y1ZkzmrVqGMnCOdxVwb29qHuk/s320/IMG_1983.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCm8TQfYnwgcuAqPYtP-Madp3m1iu52KmkXCh3SGvxA13VicNb9-7YjMIGML-Leh1V9jByf2wfVhA_IsAil29rrV7vLLGW7wA3vUpuLnE2JYdph1XP06cc1hZM1vYgPW9pG2kBb7S_HmpH/s1600/IMG_2017.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCm8TQfYnwgcuAqPYtP-Madp3m1iu52KmkXCh3SGvxA13VicNb9-7YjMIGML-Leh1V9jByf2wfVhA_IsAil29rrV7vLLGW7wA3vUpuLnE2JYdph1XP06cc1hZM1vYgPW9pG2kBb7S_HmpH/s320/IMG_2017.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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!<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwGLn6BrrWNGcVfaQ8X0GHw6PSebaP1QxhjqekQK82vmFhwcGhzYVTB1GeRbDz0N03gW3-TzmnXKtBE0DhDZfSfvGyW66YddSS4EKTLCC0FX8_vhgQ7cot04eC1t4_ZS9_KkXRiGdMFac/s1600/IMG_2071.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwGLn6BrrWNGcVfaQ8X0GHw6PSebaP1QxhjqekQK82vmFhwcGhzYVTB1GeRbDz0N03gW3-TzmnXKtBE0DhDZfSfvGyW66YddSS4EKTLCC0FX8_vhgQ7cot04eC1t4_ZS9_KkXRiGdMFac/s320/IMG_2071.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJp7L9ITOShZtOHX0ZltocK993deBLCjMH9fgQENp6G6SuxD9KZ1l-PwWXTbHneeAOwQwbfVTl4quRaZfLqt7VgCHDxcJaOUfjuoOCpQQNs8LNr6Gc7OTwkQ5F7VEZTefFY_rH45-SWu1/s1600/IMG_2133.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJp7L9ITOShZtOHX0ZltocK993deBLCjMH9fgQENp6G6SuxD9KZ1l-PwWXTbHneeAOwQwbfVTl4quRaZfLqt7VgCHDxcJaOUfjuoOCpQQNs8LNr6Gc7OTwkQ5F7VEZTefFY_rH45-SWu1/s320/IMG_2133.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> Here are two little friends of mine at Cerro Verde, photo taken courtesy of another kid anxious to practice his photography skills. <br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_uneQs2KSKmIItpvfQiyN9Hx4IsTytgxIielwyDC1fKthqRgTSOEUs4KBFiFJ3owYsppbSsS81CbkpxjfzF1EyebkCbJ_dyPcYHd7cz9NFeZ2UZd-IZcYbCCaVEMRYBlJpfFBqatqwy7h/s1600/IMG_2111.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_uneQs2KSKmIItpvfQiyN9Hx4IsTytgxIielwyDC1fKthqRgTSOEUs4KBFiFJ3owYsppbSsS81CbkpxjfzF1EyebkCbJ_dyPcYHd7cz9NFeZ2UZd-IZcYbCCaVEMRYBlJpfFBqatqwy7h/s320/IMG_2111.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOFCndsyhtE649IQNET6NNjVwtcJ_aM-Ly0fg4BEQXW4yzk8cqww8E2uf8gBWu1ddtdyym6VEARjL2es2ZOF-fWboy25qL1r_nqHe-Sjp3mdT3oMya5XwTawWmCfR0OeRyLPrY77VYw6E/s1600/IMG_2179.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOFCndsyhtE649IQNET6NNjVwtcJ_aM-Ly0fg4BEQXW4yzk8cqww8E2uf8gBWu1ddtdyym6VEARjL2es2ZOF-fWboy25qL1r_nqHe-Sjp3mdT3oMya5XwTawWmCfR0OeRyLPrY77VYw6E/s320/IMG_2179.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQKYWXy5EX8OMB-Mvke38FybuaL5bYrcI1y8SPIoyuznfWvtkve3tfsOw8jkEPXMJxlDYRW0mx3NsBMsO1tdg97WbS96go6ixveXSLeUeMH1Pe5se5QUFpf2Xi46jmI8AEOXewDAYffQl/s1600/IMG_2202.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQKYWXy5EX8OMB-Mvke38FybuaL5bYrcI1y8SPIoyuznfWvtkve3tfsOw8jkEPXMJxlDYRW0mx3NsBMsO1tdg97WbS96go6ixveXSLeUeMH1Pe5se5QUFpf2Xi46jmI8AEOXewDAYffQl/s320/IMG_2202.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> These little kids were dancing the morenada...How cute are they? Check out the link below for videos of the dances.<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKCthSZNvJb3qItqTA6TzmwQOPYny-4tLrjpXesrh7za8l1AXpVndzJ-90RZDvRxmVBD6rVlPrPpEZpP88ZdqgQHvMmSFXTYq-NR2uHQ-QeMXIkZ76l3qJVxPXgS8a9m0xrL67Yl10tD9/s1600/IMG_2183.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKCthSZNvJb3qItqTA6TzmwQOPYny-4tLrjpXesrh7za8l1AXpVndzJ-90RZDvRxmVBD6rVlPrPpEZpP88ZdqgQHvMmSFXTYq-NR2uHQ-QeMXIkZ76l3qJVxPXgS8a9m0xrL67Yl10tD9/s320/IMG_2183.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div> 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! <a href="http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/29/all-advice-leads-to-cochabamba-bolivia/">http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/29/all-advice-leads-to-cochabamba-bolivia/</a> <br /><br />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.<br /><br />For more pictures and videos, please go to <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/Aug16Blog#">http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/Aug16Blog#</a> <br /><br />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!Norahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09023237264313812347noreply@blogger.com2