A Walk in Bolivia

Life lessons from a Mexican and a Man in a wheel chair

2012-01-30T08:52:00.000-08:00

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…

"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.

But I am not mentioned in the magazine.

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.
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.

I have brothers who are like my friends, and friends who are like my brothers.
I have people who sincerely love me despite my faults, and people I honestly love despite my own shortcomings.

I have four editors each day to thank because they read what I write poorly and make it into something good.

I have a house, and in it many books (my wife would say I have many books, and among them a house).

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.

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.

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.

I own the common inheritance of men: happiness for sharing and enjoying, and sorrows that unite me with others who are also suffering.

And I have faith in God who loves me infinitely.

Can there be greater riches than mine?

Why, then did the magazine "Fortune" not put my name in the list of the richest men on the planet? "
And you, how do you consider yourself? Rich or poor?
There are poor people, so poor that the only thing they have is...MONEY"

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.

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.

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.

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”.

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.

Artículo de Armando Fuentes Aguirre (Catón)
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.

Figuran ahí también personalidades como la Reina Isabel de Inglaterra, Stavros Niarkos, y los mexicanos Carlos Slim y Emilio Azcárraga.
Sin embargo a mí no me menciona la revista.
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.
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.

Tengo hermanos que son como mis amigos, y amigos que son como mis hermanos.
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.

Tengo cuatro lectores a los que cada día les doy gracias porque leen bien lo que yo escribo mal.

Tengo una casa, y en ella muchos libros (mi esposa diría que tengo muchos libros, y entre ellos una casa).

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.

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.

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.

Soy dueño de la común herencia de los hombres: alegrías para disfrutarlas y penas para hermanarme a los que sufren.

Y tengo fe en Dios que guarda para mí infinito amor.

¿Puede haber mayores riquezas que las mías?

¿Por qué, entonces, no me puso la revista "Fortune" en la lista de los hombres más ricos del planeta?"
¿Y tú, cómo te consideras? ¿Rico o pobre?
HAY GENTE POBRE, PERO TAN POBRE, QUE LO ÚNICO QUE TIENE ES... DINERO.

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.

December, the month of gatherings

2012-01-05T19:06:00.000-08:00

December 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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Here is a picture of “Mary” and “Baby Jesus”.

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.

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.

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.

The Dump, Re-visited

2011-11-28T10:46:00.000-08:00

It 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.

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.

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?

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.

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!!!

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.

Solidarity

2011-11-21T10:46:00.000-08:00

Only 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, http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/001208.htm , 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The March Reaches its destination TODAY

2011-10-19T08:11:00.000-07:00

Today 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.

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.

This map is more of a close-up with the proposed route of the highway

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…

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”.

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.

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.

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.

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

Tú no puedes comprar al viento, (You cannot buy the wind)
Tú no puedes comprar al sol (You cannot buy the sun)
Tú no puedes comprar la lluvia, (You cannot buy the rain)
Tú no puedes comprar al calor. (You cannot buy the heat)
Tú no puedes comprar las nubes, (You cannot buy the clouds)
Tú no puedes comprar mi alegría, (You cannot buy my happiness)
Tú no puedes comprar mis dolores. (You cannot buy my pain)

For those of you who are Spanish speakers, I hope you appreciate the song too
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ii4YlzvoOZI&feature=related

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.

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.

Joy of Kids, Ecology in Tarija and Being a mis-fit

2011-07-25T18:14:00.000-07:00

As 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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

To see more pictures, please go to: https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/July24Blog?authkey=Gv1sRgCL7EztXE8Lal6wE#

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.

Holy Week and Time in the Country

2011-07-20T10:44:00.000-07:00

One 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.

“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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

To see more pictures, please go to: https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/July1Blog?authkey=Gv1sRgCLe2qM6em9Kk7gE#

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.

Chugging along from fall to winter

2011-06-16T06:04:00.000-07:00

Cochabamba 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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Pre-Lent in Bolivia

2011-05-23T11:48:00.000-07:00

I 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!

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...

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.

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.

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!

To see more pictures from Oruro, Fat Tuesday and Corso de Corsos, please visit the following links:
https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/OruroCarnaval?authkey=Gv1sRgCMeZyrvxt939fA#
https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/FatTuesdayChAlla?authkey=Gv1sRgCKWo3ZibgOef6QE#
https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/CorsoDeCorsos2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCNTwxtr6_KamhwE#

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.

Argentina

2011-04-02T12:47:00.000-07:00

“Oh. My. Gosh. That car just stopped for me to cross the road!”

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.

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.

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!!!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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).

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.

To see many more pictures of my first experience in Chile and Argentina, please go to the following link https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ChileArgentinaBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCNGxhI_ts676Qw#

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.

The people are heard Part II

2011-02-26T04:25:00.000-08:00

Just 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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

“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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

https://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ProtestBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCM6ika7x6YzmmgE#
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.

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).

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.

The people are heard

2011-02-26T04:20:00.000-08:00

It 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.)

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.

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.

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.

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).

A day in my life, February 2011

2011-02-17T09:30:00.000-08:00

Morning 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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

Standard afternoon coffe/tea/bread break in the office of Justice and Peace.

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.

After I get home about 6pm, some of my neighbors, kids recovering from burns, help out in the social center´s garden.

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.

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.

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!

Being a Stranger

2010-12-12T14:13:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 things I’m thankful for today: the first piece of toast for breakfast that I’ve had in Bolivia that I got to have this morning; skyping with my relatives at their 40+ person Thanksgiving gathering—I loved every busy moment of it; watching a movie on a couch last night (I miss couches); a really relaxed fun group dinner effort with friends; Zorro, the sweetest dog I am dog-sitting for.
For more pictures, please go to
http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/DecemberBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCKiipKDG0qnZQQ#

Gump said it best

2010-11-11T11:46:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little "I love Lucy" moment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Springtime, What am I doing? Urkupiña, Pedestrian Day

2010-10-16T08:42:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2010-08-22T18:21:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dancing, Sunrises and the Changes they accompany

2010-07-06T07:42:00.000-07:00

As I type this, I’m letting my laundry soak and listening to the clinking and sawing of the construction workers across the street, loud motorcycles speedily driving by, and the echoes of kids in the passageway. It was already three weeks ago that I finished language school and shortly thereafter moved out of my host family’s house into an apartment with another from the FMS group, Clare. Our apartment is in an old beautiful convent that was donated by a group of Franciscan sisters about 3 years ago to be used by the Franciscan family to help those more in need of space.

It’s called the Franciscan Social Center and it’s located right in the center of town. There’s a dentist; psychologist; social worker; ear, nose and throat doctor; physical therapists; AA, NA and Al-Anon groups; weekly meal offered to people on the street; and a non-profit for kids who are recovering from very severe burns and live here in the center. Needless to say, we’re never alone and there’s always kids asking us to play or go wherever we’re going. It’s a beautiful apartment and we did what any logical person with lots of space and little furniture would do – we had a party! It was grand, complete with cueca, tinku, morenada, chacarera, salsa, merengue and Michael Jackson.

Backing up a couple weeks to the last day of the 5 month language course, we had quite a day to celebrate the transition. First there was a ceremony/liturgy in which we were all presented with t-shirts and certificates and “sent” out. Everyone (17 students) gave a “despedida” farewell speech, in Spanish of course. Afterwards the real fun began—the talent show! For lack of anyone else volunteering, I ended up being the MC of the talent show and figured all that would involve would be introducing each act, but I was wrong. One of my teachers told me that the MC always has to bide time by doing something, so I researched in the Spanish version of Reader’s Digest for jokes and told many a corny joke in Spanish, which was just about as funny as it is in English. Luckily, the audience was kind. (This is a picture of me introducing the next act, wearing my tinku outfit)

My favorite parts of the talent show were the dances. I participated in a chacarera and a tinku, of which I have videos on-line. We also did a skit making fun of ourselves and all the mistakes we’ve made over the course of the 5 months. After the talent show there was a big bbq lunch and after that a live band and more professional dancing by a group of high-school students. Because they were so good, I took pictures and videos of them as well. Once the professionals finished, the dance floor opened up to everyone and we had a grand ol’ time. I’ve noticed that Bolivians like to dance in circles holding hands or in two lines facing each other, and that is what we did.

A week after moving out of my host family’s house and into the apartment, I went with a group of people to hike Inkarakay, a mountain in Sipe Sipe, for the Winter Solstice, which marks the New Year for the Amayra people. We took a bus to Sipe Sipe on Sunday night June 20th. At about 11pm we started walking up the mountain. Along the way we stopped to listen and dance to a group of men playing music on the side of the road. About half way up the mountain, we stopped to build a fire from brush we could find around the area. The stars were incredible and once the moon set after 2am or so, we could REALLY see the Milky Way in all its glory. It got very cold so the fire was much appreciated, although everyone had the same idea so the air was sadly quite polluted.

We made it up to the top around 5:30am to join thousands of other people waiting for the sunrise. Many had brought tents and camped out but we took the no-sleeping route of hiking during the night, which I enjoyed a lot. It’s amazing what great conversations come about when hiking, as well as seeing the world through the different lens of darkness, separated from accustomed electricity. To help keep up our stamina and to participate with the tradition, we chewed coca leaves, which helped a lot. In order to receive coca, one should put out both hands as a sign of respect. Also, I’ve noticed that if you have coca and someone else does, you both exchange some leaves when you greet the other person—it’s that reciprocity value coming up again.

Right before the sun came out, everyone woke up and we stood together, cold and waiting, but together. As soon as that first ray appeared over the mountain across the Cochabamba valley, we all put our hands up to greet the sun.

Because the 21st of June is the shortest day of the year here in the southern hemisphere, the Amayrans view it as the return of the sun because the days are now getting longer. It also dictates a new agricultural season. Three llamas were sacrificed at sunrise as a sign of thanks for both the sun and the earth. People got some of the blood to put on their cheeks as well as little bits of wool. I really love sunrises and it was a good experience to share it with so many, who were also so thankful for the gift of the sun and all that it gives to us.

The next morning, on Tuesday the 22nd of June, I participated in a march that the mayor’s office was sponsoring to bring more awareness about the pollution that inevitably comes every year with the Feast of San Juan (June 24th) but celebrated by the majority on Wednesday night the 23rd with fires outside, hot dogs, hot drinks, and fireworks. It was really incredible to see how much fire and smoke there was all throughout the city and into the country areas surrounding the city. While normally I can see the northern mountains of the valley out my window, I could not see them AT ALL the next days. People told me it was better than in the past, but still pretty bad. Some people also set fires in a park nearby and lots of trees were burned, which made me sad. I like that having a “campfire” brings people together and the warmth is very comforting, but the negative effects of almost everyone doing it is discouraging…I feel conflicted.

Another area I’ve been feeling unsure about over the past several months is what I’m going to be doing and where exactly I’ll be after language school. I have more interests than time or energy would allow me to invest myself in, but I have managed to narrow down to two areas, which I will try for three months and then reevaluate if they are in fact good fits. One is working with an NGO, Franciscans International, which has general status at the UN and centers its efforts around matters of justice, peace, the care of creation and the promotion of human rights, which is what St. Francis and St. Clare worked towards in their lifetimes as well. I’ll be helping out with FI-Bolivia, concentrating on issues around ecology. There’s a lot going on here, but few people speak English, which makes it difficult to communicate at the international table, so I hope to help with that. Also, I will be helping to spur more interest within the Franciscan family here around caring for creation, which includes education at schools, churches etc.

The second ministry I’ll be involved in is working with a church called San Carlos, which is located in a part of the cancha (the huge market area of town) and has 5 separate centers throughout the southern zone in poor neighborhoods. At these centers there is after-school help, lunches, classes for kids and adults, sports etc. I’m meeting with the people in charge on Wednesday July 7th, so I’ll be able to write more about that next time. Oh, and forgot to mention that I’m also helping out a Bolivian university student, who is doing her thesis project in a poor neighborhood in the southern zone around minimizing and sorting trash, recycling, and composting. A Maryknoll priest and I are helping her to build composters out of tires in order to make lovely rich dirt in the middle of this dry dessert climate, so that people can grow wonderful food and plants, while cutting down on their trash by about 50%. I’m having a lot of fun with it, and I’ll be sure to share my pictures and more details about it next time.

5 Things I’m thankful for today: tea kettle we just bought that doesn’t produce gray flakes on the bottom like the other one did; enough money to be able to buy food and things like a dustpan, tea kettle and pressure cooker; my new plant passed on to me by a friend who is leaving; playing wiffle ball on July 4th; my stomach feels better today than it did yesterday and I am so happy for that!

For more pictures and the videos from the graduation (clausura)please go to : http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ClausuraBlog#
For more pictures of my hike to Ikarakay and the apartment, please go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/InkarakayHike#

Chapare, Tapacari and Feet

2010-06-22T11:12:00.001-07:00

Heading east from the city of Cochabamba one finds the region of Chapare, which is a large rain-forest area in the Upper Amazon Basin. Cochabamba is dry and more desert-like than tropical, so the drastic change in the scenery on the drive there was surprising. It was incredibly humid when we stepped off our bus, which prompted those of us from the east coast of the US to exclaim with a mix of surprise, disappointment and nostalgia, “ewwww, this feels kind of like home in the summer time!”

The town our hotel was in is called Villa Tunari, which at one time was the hot-spot for narco-traffickers, but has changed into the central location to bring in tourists. On Saturday we visited a coca farmer; tried to visit the FELCN (Fuerza Especial de la Lucha contra el Carcotráfico) the Bolivian anti-narcotics forces; Parque Machia which is an animal reserve; and went out to dinner to enjoy some delicious fish. On Sunday we went to a national park called Parque Nacional Carrasco and a trout farm for lunch on our way back to Cochabamba.

Before describing the visit in more detail, I’d like to talk about coca. Before coming here, I didn’t know what the coca plant looked like, smelled like or what it could be used for besides cocaine. Since being here, I have discovered there is a whole lot more to coca than that. For ages and ages, the coca leaf has played a very important role in the Andean cultures. For example, it gives strength and demonstrates honor and respect by exchanging it with another person. Bolivia has a history of exploitation especially in her rich mines. The colonists recruited indigenous people to work in the mines, usually staying down for days at a time. I can’t imagine what that would be like but I’m sure I’d get hungry and tired pretty quickly. In order to help them keep up their energy and suppress their grumbling tummies, the miners constantly chewed coca.

Coca can be used to make a tea, which is the way I usually consume it. It’s great for altitude adjustment, digestive problems and upset stomachs especially. It can also be made into flour, candy, baked goods, juice etc. The coca plant can be harvested up to 4 times a year and has a life of 10-20 years. It’s extremely light to transport and grows very easily in sub-tropical regions. There is a coca union here, so after the farmer harvests it, the coca is brought to a central location where it is processed and put on the market. According to what I was told, it is sold at the same price for legal and illegal purposes.

The use of coca for cocaine really only started here in the 1970’s when General Banzer was dictator, as I understand the story. In 2004, the Bolivian government made an agreement with the Six Federations of the Chapare coca farmers to set the legal limit of coca growth per person to one “cato” which is 1600 square meters. With this amount of land, farmers can earn about US$1000-1200 per year from coca (according to Andean Information Network). See picture below of one cato just harvested.

This cato of coca is owned by a farmer we were able to visit and talk with. He also grows cocoa plants, rubber trees, palms to get heart of palms, and black pepper. He talked about his story and how awful it was when coca started to be used for the wrong reasons. It came as a real shock to him when it happened. He doesn’t want to stop growing it because it’s more lucrative than other crops, it’s able to be harvested repeatedly and it’s easy to transport, which is a big deal for farmers in the midst of poor roads in Chapare. Below is a picture of the farmer's rubber trees.

After visiting the cocalera (coca farmer) we attempted to visit the FELCN (Fuerza Especial de la Lucha Contra el Narcotráfico) the Bolivian anti-narcotics forces station, but they changed a ceremony’s location so we weren’t able to. On the drive back, we went past a training school where Bolivians are trained in anti-narcotic efforts in rural jungle regions. I was told that while in school, every person’s name is taken away and they are called “elements” and that many people who are a part of the leadership and teachers there were trained in Fort Benning, GA at WHINSEC (formerly known as the School of Americas).

We took a break from the subject of coca in the afternoon to go to Parque Machia, which is a private reserve for monkeys, macaws and pumas, although we didn’t get to see the puma. They say that the animals are saved from captivity, but I also read that they’re the animals misplaced from their homes by construction of roads or commercial interests. Therefore, I’m not sure why exactly the animals are there, but it enabled me to have an up-close-and-personal encounter with several monkeys!

When we arrived, some monkeys were sitting in the park volunteers’ laps or hanging out in the trees. They started to climb onto us visitors and inspect people’s hair and pockets. I decided that I wanted to go see the macaws so I started walking down the path when all of a sudden a mama monkey with her baby hanging on to her front crawled up my legs and onto my back. Not 3 seconds later, another monkey jumped on my head. I stood still with tense shoulders, not really knowing what to do because there weren’t any park volunteers around me. After a little while, I started walking and once I got to a railing all 3 decided to hop off.

I was warned that these monkeys were very forward and you shouldn’t take any jewelry with you or anything in your pockets because they will take it. For this reason I didn’t bring a camera but some of my friends risked it and so I have some pictures from them to share.

The next day we got up and went to the ecological park, Parque Nacional Carrasco, which was probably my favorite part of the trip. The park protects about 6,200 km. of multiple ecosystems on the slopes of the Andes, including high grasslands, cloudforests, and tropical rainforests, as low as 300m and up to 4,000m. There are over 700 species of birds and lots of awesome animals like jaguar, tapir and peccary. The big threats are illegal logging, hunting and deforestation for agriculture by people along the northern and southern borders of the park. There are people who live in the parkland and we came across someone’s cato (plot of coca) while on our walk.

To enter the part of the park where we spent most of our time, we crossed a river in a little cart. We walked for a couple hours through the jungle and it was just beautiful, beautiful! There were tons of plants, trees with crazy roots, butterflies, leaf-cutter ants, bats, funny flowers, caves and even more than my imagination could handle. At one point we walked up into part of a semi-cave, from which was coming a loud rackety noise. Turns out the noise was coming from birds, which I think were guacharós, oil birds. They’re nocturnal, eat fruit, make clicking sounds in order to navigate and are found in few places of S. America. Again, amazing how MUCH biodiversity there is in such a small country.

A few days after returning from Chapare, some friends invited me to go on a day trip to Tapacari, about 3 hours drive from Cochabamba. Here are Jenna and I at a self-made rest stop on the way there. No restroom stall at a rest stop in the states has this good of a view!

In Tapacari there is a small village that didn’t used to have water, but now does because of a project that lasted for over a year to transport it from 15 km up the way. Jason, who is a civil engineer and a Maryknoll missioner, lived out there for about a year helping with the project. All the manual labor was done voluntarily by local people. They now get water but Jason thinks there were a couple kinks in the original planning and they could be getting more water than they are. When I asked how the people felt, he said they were and are grateful to have water but were also disappointed that the output was not what they were told to expect.

Above is the peninsula and at the tip is where the pueblo is. At the top of the picture, is about where the source of water is, about 15 km. After hanging out in the plaza so Jason could catch up with old friends, we ate lunch and were joined by a little girl who had her dress on backwards, no underwear but was the cutest and most diligent teacher of quechua to my friend Minh.

We then drove up to the stream that gives water to the town. This is a suspension bridge, which is holding the piping to transport the water. Jason said the villagers carried all the parts on their backs up this very steep and slippery hill we climbed so that I could take this picture...I have no clue how they did that because I had to use both hands to grab on to the plants in order not to fall backwards.

Going up we got some pretty incredible views as well. I really enjoyed the day and it was good to be somewhere out of the city.

There was one moment that struck me especially. As we were in the plaza, a group of three people arrived carrying large loads in their aguayos (large pieces of colorful cloth). As they took them off their backs with sighs of relief and set them on the ground next to their feet, my eyes stopped. Their feet. They were wearing sandals made of tire rubber and yet the skin of their feet didn’t really look like skin anymore, it had been so weathered; it was as if I was looking at a clay sculpture of feet. The next day I was out in a restaurant of Cochabamba and looked down the line of people sitting at a table next to us…all very nice, very pretty shoes and feet (mine included). Incredible. These two images are very vivid in my mind and I think about them a lot.

I’m ready. I’m ready to enter more into the lives of those tough, weathered yet very strong feet; that is, if they’ll have me. There is goodness and wisdom in each person and I hope that I can continue to build friendships with Bolivians of many different paths, those well-paved as well as those a little rougher to travel. It’s a hopeful future I’m looking at as I leave language school and start trying to find my place here in Cochabamba, Bolivia.

For pictures of my trip to Chapare, please click on this link
http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ChapareBlog#
For pictures of my trip to Tapacari, please click on this link
http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/TapacariTrip#

5 Things I’m thankful for: lush green tropical forests; fresh fish; postcards from friends; a little girl with sandals that squeaked and lit up with each waddle-step she took…oh that was funny; I have a place to sleep at night and it’s surprisingly warmer than my host-family’s house.

Toro Toro

2010-05-31T07:22:00.000-07:00

Dinosaur tracks. Condors. Waterfalls. Rock paintings. Caverns. These are just some of the highlights I encountered when I went to visit Bolivia’s smallest national park in Toro Toro. Bolivia continues to amaze me with its wonders and beauties. I’m so grateful I got to go visit this area, which is about 130 km south of Cochabamba or a 5 hour bumpy ride.

The first day we found a guide in this very small town and he took us to see the first of many dinosaur tracks, Toro Toro Canyon and my favorite, the waterfall Vergel. The guide had little toy dinosaurs to demonstrate which ones left which prints. I’m not sure what the names are but the first ones we saw were of a 4-legged herbivore.

The prints were on this hill, which we were told was originally flatter but the earth has shifted a lot over time so the slabs were pushed up to more of a diagonal. I wished I knew geography better because looking at the mountains/hills, it’s clear that a lot has happened over time to change the landscape, but I don’t quite understand how, why or when it happened.

We also saw prints from a dinosaur with 3 fingers/toes that had wings and it would put its 2 wing points/hands on the ground and then lift its feet up and swing or hop forward. Some tracks were inverted in the ground and the guide explained that has happening because they stepped in mud and after it hardened was overturned somehow and yet maintained its original footprint form. We were having a ball getting in or very close to the prints, pretending we were dinosaurs or their prey, thinking we’ve got to enjoy this while we’re here because there are so many other things to see. Little did we know that we would continue to come across dinosaur prints in multiple places throughout our journey.

To continue on to the canyon we walked along a road and then a dried-out river or stream bed. At one point we came across a herd of goats all by themselves and they started jumping off the cliff at the sight of us…well, not really a cliff, but a small jump. Then, what seemed like out of nowhere we were at the edge of this canyon, whose expanse and depth surprised me. There were two condors swooping around at the opposite end from us, but other than them and us, it appeared to be rather deserted, which made it all the more beautiful.

After a mandarin break, we hiked down into the canyon to the waterfalls and swimming holes, where we ate lunch and played in the water. The 10 meter high waterfall is called El Vergel in Spanish, but in Quechua, it’s called Waca Senq’a, which means the cow’s nose. Can you tell by the picture why they call it that?

Green water plants and names aside, I thought it was gorgeous! The water was very refreshing and cold, but nonetheless irresistible.

I had a blast. The hike back up the canyon and to town took up the rest of our sun-light hours, so we could prepare for the next even fuller day’s activities.

The morning began by hopping into the back of a truck that would take us to the Ciudad de Itas caves and the Umajallanta caverns. The road was not paved (to say the least) and at some parts extremely soft so it took several hours to get there with all the getting stuck, but it was worth it. Several times we came across shepherds or shepherdesses and their flocks of either goats or sheep and their very protective sheep-dogs.

If I remember correctly, Itas, in Quechua means a type of bug, which apparently inhabited this place in mass numbers back in the day. We walked along what seemed like gigantic turtle’s backs made out of stone, down, up, down, up again more rocks to see the different “rooms” of this ciudad or “city”. One room was like a cathedral, but all made naturally. It was beautiful and even had a roof with “sky-lights”. We also saw some rock paintings that have lasted over time.

After eating lunch on the top of the ciudad, we headed back to the truck and drove down to our final adventure, the Umajallanta caverns. Between the spot to park the truck we came across more dinosaur tracks, this time of the ferocious T-Rex!

The ever-changing and enchanting geography was also a major highlight. For example, there were large plates of what used to be cracked mud and over time have become these beautifully designed slabs of stone that also got turned on an angle with the moving of the earth. Simple yet beautiful.

As we arrived at the large mouth of the caverns and it kept getting darker and darker, I knew we were in for a good adventure. The only lights inside the caves were our headlamps or flashlights and there were no railings or nice flight of stairs. Every now and then there were some metal rods to descend as a ladder but we mostly used ropes, our limbs, stomachs and our bums to slide, crawl, and climb through the caves. It was NOTHING like Lurray Caverns in VA, in the sense that you were just right in there with everything. I had to remind myself that it was ok to touch things, aside from the growing stalactites of course. We saw blind fish, little ponds, streams, stalactites and stalagmites including a stalactite tree and hollow stalactites. Only 7 km of caverns have been explored so far but it continues on and no one knows where they end…pretty amazing.

The more I experience parts of Bolivia like Toro Toro, the more amazed I am at the earth we get to live on. It’s pretty remarkable. If you’d like to see more pictures, please go to
http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/TorotoroBlog#

For a little video of my musical debut in the caverns, click on
http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ToroToroPics#5473733119050953842

5 Things I’m thankful for: the treat of eating delicious fish; my safety and health; reading a good book; dancing a tinku (folkloric fighting dance of Potosi) to celebrate Mother’s Day here in Bolivia this past Thursday May 27; getting to talk with family and friends.

Trash, Climate Conference and Peru

2010-05-10T15:21:00.000-07:00

Happy Monday! Before I get into the climate conference and my trip to Peru, I want to go back to the issue of trash here in Cochabamba and some responses I got from that blog entry. I agree that we need to have a place to put our waste and if I implied that all dumps are bad ideas, I didn’t intend to. I agree that we should not feel guilty for doing what we need to do live, such as preparing food and inevitably having waste from that. I don’t feel guilty about having waste, but I do think it’s good to question how much waste I produce, whether it’s all necessary, how is it affecting others and whether I could use some of my waste in another form, such as putting food waste into compost instead of the trash? It’s not guilt that motivates my questioning, rather a hope of continual betterment for myself and my community whom I belong to.

I’m so appreciative of being questioned how racism is a part of the issue when I did not explicitly address the race and ethnicity of the people in the southern zone. I want to say first, I am in the beginning of grasping who the players are and what the history is, so I admit to my lack of experience and knowledge about this situation. In the midst of trying to gather more perspectives and background, I will attempt to put some of the pieces together, fully knowing it is incomplete.

From what I’ve listened to so far, I’m reminded just how much race is socially constructed and my ideas of the indicators of difference continue to be twisted, multiplied and turned around. How I’m thinking of racism is *systematically* assigning value based on race, which can be made up of different factors: biological/genetic, geographic, color of skin etc. From what I understand (which again, is not a whole lot as of yet) people in the southern zone come from other parts of Bolivia and from the country in hopes of getting more opportunity to earn a living.

Many are indigenous and may not know Spanish or if they do, it may not have been their first language; many have not been raised in the city; many work very long hours and get their kids to work too. People from less colonized areas tend to have less Spanish blood mixed in their lines of heritage and therefore tend to have darker complexions. To demonstrate how value is being assigned to complexions, most advertisements I see are of very thin lighter-skinned people with lighter hair and lighter eyes AND they sell beauty creams here for the purpose of lightening the color of your skin…all sending the message that you’re more beautiful and more valuable if you have lighter skin.

When the group of people who live in the southern zone don’t have their own water, have more sicknesses due to the dump, and live in much poorer conditions than the group of people in power of making decisions, it appears to me that the group of people in the southern zone are not seen as being as valuable as other people in Cochabamba. That is why I said that environmental racism appears to me, to be present here. I have so much to learn still and I may come back in several months or a year with a whole new perspective, but this is what I’m observing at this point in time, which doesn’t make it truth, simply my perspective.

On to the climate conference, officially titled People’s World Conference on Climate Change and the Rights of Mother Earth. After the UN met in Copenhagen in December 2009, many people were disappointed with the outcomes for the environment. Evo Morales, the President of Bolivia, invited everyone interested in the world to talk about the causes and solutions relating to the environmental problems. The idea was to include people who weren’t able to sit at the table of discussion in Copenhagen and have more dialogue on the following: structural causes of climate change; alternative models for Living Well in Harmony with Nature; talk about and agree on a Universal Declaration for the Rights of Mother Earth; plan a World Referendum on Climate Change; and come up with a proposal for a Climate Justice Court.

Because anyone could go, I signed up for free on the internet and I went to several different sessions as well as the closing ceremony on Thursday, Earth Day. There were lots of panels going on at the same time so I only went to some. Most panels/sessions took place at a university campus about 15 minutes from here. I didn’t understand everything because many hours on end is a lot to try to concentrate in another language, so content-wise I didn’t understand as much as I would have liked, but I’m glad I went. For example, I went to a talk about using local traditional knowledge and modern technology to help approach climate problems with farming in the Altiplano (higher altitude mountainous region) of Bolivia.

It was really fun to people-watch there because there were so many people there from all over Latin America especially. They reported that about 140 countries were represented. I met a guy from La Paz who works as a photographer in the Amazon and other national park areas of Bolivia. I met another guy from Argentina who was Hari Krishna and had a booth about vegetarian eating. There were lots of people there in indigenous clothing and it was very clear that we were a diverse group of people, just by listening and observing. I saw Miss Bolivia and the Vice President of Bolivia again, but not together this time. Small world.

The final day, the ceremony was in the soccer stadium in the city of Cochabamba and it was a lot of fun, although I found out later I left before all the REALLY good dance presentations started. All these different indigenous groups processed in, dancing and playing instruments. There were some performances and then a famous Bolivian band performed and they were great. Two people got up to read the findings of the 17 different working groups (each with its own theme), and plan for the future. The next meeting of this nature will take place in Mexico, at the end of this year I think. Next, the political leaders spoke, which was my least favorite part, but I stayed through it thinking they wouldn’t talk so long (I was mistaken). I never in my life expected to be in the same place as the Vice President of Cuba, Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, the VP of Bolivia and the President of Bolivia, Evo Morales. There was also a rep from Nicaragua. Granted, my comprehension and attention span were not superb, but it appeared to me that they were there for their own interests, not so much for the environment. Apparently after I left, things got a lot more jovial and celebratory, but I was leaving based on the time allotted in the program…silly me. It was a good experience and I’m glad I got to go. We’ll see what Mexico’s conference brings? You can see more pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/ClimateConference#

If you’re still reading, thank you! The last thing I want to relate is my trip to Peru last week. I arrived in La Paz about 6:15am to find out that there were blockades both in Bolivia and Peru on the roads to get to Puno. I asked four different people about it and got four different responses, until I heard one that cheered me up. I could still get across the border if I took a car or van, instead of a bus, which is exactly what I did. The road was bumpy, dusty and long but I got to the border. I got really lucky and the police boss let me go across without having to pay the standard 100 B’s even though my letter saying why I’m here in Bolivia wasn’t current enough for his liking, “just make sure every time in the future you get a new letter”…yes, sir.

I found a bus heading to Puno and what I thought would be 2 hours turned into 5. We got lost (which I realized later was because we were taking an alternative much longer route since there were blockades) and the driver suddenly had what seemed like 50 wives nagging him to pull over and ask for directions…c’mon, you’re wasting our time…ask him, ask him!!! It was pretty funny for me to listen to. We also got a flat tire and a police inspection. Finally we arrived in Puno and I was cold and wet, but found a market with some delicious food to fill my grumbling tummy.

I met up with my friends from Arizona, JP and Cathleen, who are living in Peru. It was so nice to see them again and we had a great visit. On Saturday we went on a boat tour in Lake Titicaca to visit some floating islands of the Uros people and then to a more solid island of Taquile. I learned that the Incans named the lake “Titicaca” because it looks like a puma chasing a rabbit...so they say, but you really have to use your imagination. Titicaca is roughly translated as “Stone Puma”.

Floating islands…what are those? They explained to us, using a model, that they transport hunks of earth out into the water and there they fasten them together to float. On top of this, they pile layers and layers (every 2 weeks) of this reed, called totora. The reeds are also used to construct their houses, boats and look-out towers. It appears that they really depend on tourists because everything was set up to invite us to spend money. I really liked their clothing – bright neon colors and it was interesting to see a glimpse of their lives.

Next we went further out into the lake and the sun finally came out for the first time once we arrived at the island Taquile. We had a great lunch and walked across the island to board our boat on the other side. The dirt was so brown and rich-looking, not what I see in Cochabamba. A lot of the day was spent on the water, which was fine by me because I absolutely love being on the water. With no oceans to go to, at least Bolivia has Lago Titicaca.

The next day we went to a little town called Juli and wandered around the town, its small harbor, and several very old churches. The lake was just gorgeous and I was able to get some pictures of it in its beauty with the Bolivian mountains in the background. My trip back to Cochabamba was also very long, about 15 hours, but I chatted with people in the van this time and that made the trip more enjoyable. I’m so glad I went and it was a real treat to see friends in addition to my first introduction to Peru. For more pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/PeruBlog#

5 things I’m thankful for today: making eggplant parmesan with my host-mom yesterday and getting to eat it again for lunch today (there’s not much good Italian food here); the music of Michael Jackson; getting to talk with my mom yesterday; good conversations with teachers about Bolivian culture; and the oranges and “mandarinas” (we don’t have them in the US as far as I know) which are in season right now and DE-licious!

Semana Santa

2010-04-26T10:01:00.000-07:00

How do the weeks go by so quickly? A lot has happened in the past month with me—I got very sick again and therefore sadly did not go to Toro Toro; started helping with a composting project in the southern zone using old tires to build the containers; started learning capoeira from this amazingly energetic and spunky Brazilian sister http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/HermanaLuciaDance# ; toured lots of possible placements in the southern zone for my work after language school; attended the People’s World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights here in Cochabamba. I’m not going to be able to cover everything right now, but I wanted to give you a little overview before I back up to about three and a half weeks ago.

The week before Easter is known as Semana Santa (Holy Week) and was certainly a different experience for me here in Cochabamba than I’d experienced before, in a good way. Thursday night is the night that a lot of people in Cochabamba go out to visit 12 different churches (at least traditionally), started in the early evening and going late into the night. Many of the streets are closed to accommodate the herds of foot traffic and other commercially-minded people take advantage of this to sell lots of goodies, mostly food, but also artwork, trinkets, movies etc. The typical thing to eat in Cochabamba especially during Holy Week is a “pastel” and “api”. This pastel is a giant half-circle, very airy fried dough with cheese in the middle. Api is a sweet, hot, cinnamon-flavored purple corn drink. Another thing people in my group tried and claimed was tasty were little chunks of cow heart grilled with a delicious smelling marinade. While cow hearts were in full supply, alcohol was not, because it is forbidden between Thursday and Sunday of Holy Week, which also surprised me.

A group of us went around together and it was a great experience. It was quite striking how incredibly crowded the churches were with all these people of all walks of life gathering very reverently to pray and walk this pilgrimage together. Then, you squeeze your way out into the street and it’s kind of like a big street party. As we were walking, I saw a stand of posters for sale. Sandwiched between a poster of Michael Jackson, a poster of the teenage movie stars of the Twilight movies, was a poster of Jesus Christ, in all his European-looking glory. I had to laugh at how Western influence pops up in sometimes unexpected ways, melding with local customs to paint a very eclectic scene.

Even though I was super tired by the end of our visits, I really enjoyed it because there was this sense in the air of community, of togetherness. That feeling of being a part of a large group of people gathered together in a very positive energy—kind of like being at a marathon amidst all the cheering, or the Olympics. It’s like a glimpse of what we could be.

The next morning I went with two other US friends about an hour outside of the city to a small “campo” (country) town, called Tarata. We spent the day walking and relaxing, enjoying the beauty of being in the quiet country. Typically, Holy Friday for Catholics in the US is a day of fasting, but that’s not really the case here in Cochabamba. We were told that generally there’s a 12-course meal you eat on Friday…not sure why yet, maybe I’ll learn more next year. After exploring the countryside for several hours we participated with the rest of the town in the Stations of the Cross, which is a form of prayer that takes you through the story leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion. There were a couple hundred people, all with candles, walking for 3 hours throughout the town of Tarata, stopping every few blocks at a station (usually a little display a family had set up with flowers, candles, statues) where everyone listened to that part of the story, sang and prayed. The men and women were separated but we divided our time between the two groups.

Men processing through Tarata

Beautiful "campo" of Tarata

Sunday, April 4, is when Easter is celebrated in the US, but here it’s either celebrated at a late night mass on Saturday night or on Sunday, but it wasn’t like how I’ve experienced the Easter culture in the US. Sunday also happened to be elections day, when each of the 9 departments (like the states in the US) elected governors, mayors for the cities, and local representatives. This was the first time ever that some indigenous communities have had anyone representing them in the government—the first time they’ve been included, which I personally think is a wonderful step. As with all political structures, the way things play out is the true test, so we’ll have to see what happens.

You all in the US wouldn’t expect the day of elections to mean anything different for traffic except maybe a little more at rush hour with people trying to get to the polls before they close. However, here in Bolivia NO ONE can drive at all. There are exceptions for emergency vehicles and a couple other rare circumstances but otherwise the streets of Bolivia are empty—no traveling, no public transportation, no transporting of goods, which meant I could enjoy roaming the car-free streets. After walking to the orphanage to spend a few hours there, I walked to the center to eat a wonderful feast cooked by a fellow American (and we drank wine, but don’t tell anyone!).

Two weeks after Easter, I attended an event here at the institute, in which a text book written by three of our teachers to teach Quechua, was presented for the first time. There was a group of musicians playing typical instruments and wearing traditional clothing of Quechua people. It was really interesting to watch how proud my teachers were because publishing this book is an act of giving more dignity to this traditional culture/people/language, important parts of Bolivia’s identity. As is happening in many parts of the world, languages and cultures are being lost in the movement of urbanization and globalization. However, this book is part of the effort to not let that happen to the language of Quechua.

This past week I got to go the People’s World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights, which was really something. I will write about it more in my next entry, in which I will also revisit the issue of trash here in Cochabamba. That's all for now! If you'd like to see more pictures, please visit http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/HolyWeekBlog#

5 things I’m thankful for: new Bolivian friends; surprise peanut butter Easter egg candies from my great- aunt and uncle; I got to participate in the climate conference; the ability to live here; today I am healthy.

Bugs and Buffalos

2010-04-06T13:13:00.000-07:00

One lesson I am continuing to learn is that I may have a plan or intention, but that doesn’t mean things will play out the way I think. I wanted to write two weeks ago but was not able to because I was busy joining a club, which I had hoped never to join.

Monday morning of March 22 began the downward slide. I didn’t want to eat or drink, though my mouth was dry. My stomach hurt and I was completely exhausted. I couldn’t stop burping and they weren’t the “ohh man, I feel so much better now” type of burps, rather they relieved no pain and were unpleasant. I didn’t have diarrhea and I wasn’t throwing up, though I was certainly nauseous. Eventually I found out that I had the live bugs and the eggs of amoebas, girardia and a bacterial infection—so said the doctor who gave me 2 shots one day and 2 the next, along with 2 oral medications. I don’t remember sleeping so much in one period of time, ever. On Friday I started to feel better, just in time to hop on an overnight bus that afternoon to go to Santa Cruz.

The department of Santa Cruz is in the eastern part of Bolivia and is much more tropical and hotter than Cochabamba. I went with a group to visit two missions that were originally established in the late 1600’s by the Jesuits among the Chiquitano people. The Jesuits, under the influence of the book Utopia and of course their faith, set up very organized peaceful communities and invited local people to join them, thereby gaining more protection from being potentially exploited by the colonizers (ie. Taxed and forced to work in the mines of Potosi, where MANY people died). Many of the missions have been lost over time but some still remain in Bolivia and 6 were given World Heritage designation by UNESCO in 1991.

In the 1950’s the Franciscans took on the restoration of these missions, largely with the help of a Swiss architect, Hans Roth. We went to 2 towns, San Javier and Concepcion. However, before we got to San Javier, we drove through a Mennonite Colony. I don’t understand that much about them, but the 4 or 5 people I saw had white skin and wore overalls, and were driving a horse-drawn cart. They have their own school systems, rules, health care etc. No one knows whether they’ll be able to stay because of some new laws in the new constitution having to do with land rights.

Back to the 1600’s and 1700’s. One thing I found interesting is that the Bible was not taught directly to the indigenous people, rather the stories were dramatized, and a general favorite was the story of the Passion, the prelude to Jesus’ crucifixion (which coincidentally was remembered last week). Even when the Jesuits were kicked out of South America, some mission communities continued on with their faith and kept acting out the stories on their own for decades and decades until the Jesuits were able to come back. In general, they believed that Jesus’ resurrection occurred at midnight on Saturday so that is when they rejoiced and therefore didn’t go to church on Sunday because they’d already celebrated. I’ve heard that Easter Sunday isn’t as big of a deal as the three days leading up to it in Latin America, and maybe this could be part of that history?

Another aspect of the Jesuits is that they came from a culture very enraptured with music and the arts, so they entered South America playing music and unarmed. Other reductions (this grouping of indigenous people out of their villages into “reduced” areas thought of by a man named Toledo) were set up in what is now Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay. I tried to imagine being a part of a no-mad tribe, while other tribes, with whom I am not unified, are also living on the land. Then entered these foreigners proposing to build a town for about 5,000 people and it would have meant: staying in one place, and living with all these other people I had never lived directly alongside before, at least this closely. These particular foreigners though were offering protection, more means to economic growth, this new idea of private property, and yet they were peaceful, very into music and culture, and were respectful. I can’t really imagine what I would have thought...whether I would have wanted to become a part of the community or not?

Once one town was built, other indigenous people would come and ask the Jesuits to help them build a town too. Each town had its own chieftains because the indigenous people governed themselves and the Jesuits were more like advisors. They brought baroque music to this part of the New World and produced lots of instruments and instructed many choirs. (Today there are baroque festivals every year in the missions because it’s still a part of the culture there.) It wasn’t all buttercups and rainbows though—some Jesuits were killed because non-Christian indigenous people were envious and upset.

Back to the trip. We visited the church and museum next door in San Javier and got a general understanding of how a mission was set up. There was a large square plaza in the center, where all the different people of various tribes could come together and socialize. Along one side of the square were the church, courtyard and chapel, along with land used to grow communal food. If the mission were attacked, all the women and children would go into this courtyard between the church and the chapel. Along the other three sides of the square were series of longhouses in which the people lived. A family didn’t have their own rooms, rather their own space within the house that other families respected. The land surrounding the community was available for use by the inhabitants of the mission. After this introduction, we got back in the bus and drove several more hours further out in the country to Concepcion.

There, we stayed in a really nice hotel and it was very relaxing to be there—lots of hammocks, chairs, lovely orchids and other plants and a nice pool. Sunday morning, while at breakfast in the hotel, we were informed by our guide that the Vice President of Bolivia and Miss Bolivia 2009 were sitting at the table behind us. That was quite a surprise, but we figured they were there because elections for the 9 departments (equivalent to our states) were coming up the next weekend.

After breakfast we went to the cemetery where everyone from the area (some people walked a long way) gathered for the Palm Sunday procession to the church. The church was super packed and I felt the hottest I’ve felt since coming to Bolivia. We were told it’s packed every Sunday, not just because it was Palm Sunday. The procession was really beautiful and people decorated their palms very creatively and elaborately. It was different than any Palm Sunday I’ve experienced so far, and I was grateful to get to be there with the locals of Concepcion.

The next day we made our way back to Santa Cruz, stopping along the way at a place called Las Piedras (the stones) for a really big lunch in a beautiful setting. There’s a retired priest from the US who lives there and he welcomed us in and let us roam around his lovely backyard/garden and outdoor chapel. Currently a 21-yr-old university student from the Chiquitania area is staying at his house. He goes back and forth to the city of Santa Cruz and is studying many different types of instruments in hopes of becoming a director of an orchestra one day. He even played his violin for us (seen in picture above)!

(A picture of me pretending to fly in Las Piedras where we stopped for lunch)

The road connecting Santa Cruz and the missions has more potholes than I’ve ever seen in my life. This is not an exaggeration. While I wasn’t busy being mesmerized by how our driver was maneuvering them so well, I was enjoying watching the scenery go by around me—large green plains and then later hills with palm trees and gigantic ant hills. These mounds were sometimes 3 feet tall and I never expected them to be created by these little ants, but it’s true I tell you! We also saw tucans, buffalo and a lot of cows. I learned that the white cows are for meat and the brown or spotted cows are for milk. It was nice to see so many grazing in big open spaces, as cows were created to do.

It was a good trip and if you’d like to see more pictures, please go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

Before closing, I want to say how much I appreciate the comments on my last blog about the dump! I’m writing responses to the comments, but realized it’s too long to add on to this blog post, so it will come in the future, I promise. Thank you for reading and reflecting because it’s very helpful to me.

5 Things I’m thankful for today: getting to spend a couple days out in the “campo” (country) with friends enjoying the quiet simplicity of life’s pace there; my appetite is back; receiving such great hospitality; being the recipient of unexpected acts of generosity like a plane ticket; receiving news of new babies and new marriages.

Cochabamba’s own Mount Trashmore

2010-03-20T14:10:00.000-07:00

No one likes trash. No one wants to live by it (ideally that is, if profit is not part of the picture). It has to go somewhere and where it goes is a huge question, pregnant with factors of power, money, class, racism, privilege and control.

When I was invited to come out for the day to visit a Maryknoll priest living in the southern zone of Cochabamba, I did not know what I was going to see, but I certainly didn’t anticipate what I encountered. Padre Ken lives in a room of a house in a small neighborhood (“barrio”) right next to the dump for the whole city of Cochabamba. It’s important to set up the context of the southern zone by acknowledging that every ounce of water is shipped in, usually by trucks that collect it in the northern part (where I live) and then sell it to the residents there at about 10x the cost my family pays for water.

The first things I noticed were all the tires and then to the left a nice pond…but wait, that’s not a pond, that’s toxic waste. I was told that there used to be a fence surrounding the dumping ground for the medical waste brought in by the hospitals. One day the fence disappeared and now there’s just some dirt on top and anyone could go through it, not knowing what’s underneath, such as used needles for example.

For a little history, the dump was started 22 years ago, but with no liner, so there is concern about all that waste seeping into the earth, and how is that affecting the water as well? There is one company that collects trash, EMSA, and they work for the mayor. About 8 years ago, people around the dump complained to the mayor about having to deal with the dump and its negative effects, so the mayor is now fined for every ton of trash that is deposited. The mayor pays $0.70 (this is in US dollars) for every ton and it’s estimated at 400 tons/day; excluding Sundays when trash is not collected, that amounts to an average of $87,640 per year that the mayor is fined by the people, and that money can only be accessed by people in 7 of the 33 dictricts.

How do they access that money? The money is kept by the mayor’s office until people can come up with projects on how to spend the money. Someone in Padre Ken’s neighborhood built a water tower and now water can come to individual homes and each person is charged based on their meter’s reading. This is a positive thing, yes. However, do the benefits of having potential access to this money outweigh the costs (I mean this word in a broader sense than strictly economic, such as all the sicknesses the people get because of the dump) of having the dump there in the state that it is in?

Many people want the dump to close and over the years there have been several blockades of garbage trucks, resulting in the littering of the city. Last year some people took the issue to court. The court ordered that the dump be closed by Dec. 31, 2009, but that didn’t happen and still has failed to happen. Therefore, at the beginning of January this year (right about the time I arrived) no trash could be dumped because some people in those districts set up blockades. The sight I saw upon arrival was lots of trash piling up in the streets, sidewalks and medians (I thought it was normal, having never been here before).

There is a foundation, called Vincente Cañas. They have been very vocal about wanting to close the dump, and organized many of those 33 leaders whose districts are near the dump. The 7 leaders closest to the dump (the ones that can access the money) claim that they are the only ones who have the right to control whether the dump should be closed. They have not said outright whether they want the dump to be closed or remain open, but they DO NOT like Vincente Cañas. Those leaders have associated Padre Ken with Vincente Cañas. He’s been “condemned” by several of them in public meetings with people, though not kicked out, which is what happened to the last priest who lived there.

In talking about what some of the major concerns were, the following are a few that Padre Ken mentioned: the lack of a liner in the dump; major health problems and risks; ignorance of the poisons; speculators buying land that is very close to the actual dump, and then convincing people it’s safe to live there.

In college I learned about environmental racism, which Wikipedia defines as “the enactment or enforcement of any policy, practice, or regulation that negatively affects the environment of low-income and/or racially-homogeneous communities at a disparate rate than affluent communities [1]. Environmental racism is either intentional or unintentional racial discrimination and can explain specific incidents in which minority communities are targeted for the siting of polluting industries and factors[2].” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Environmental_racism)

I live in the richer part of Cochabamba, which happens to be near the readily available source of water coming out of the northern mountains, but the southern zone, as I mentioned, does not have access to water except by trucks. They also get to bear the brunt of the effects of my trash. Did I mention they’re very poor? It’s pretty clear to me that environmental racism is going on.

I’ll leave you with some questions I’ve been thinking about, and perhaps you can respond to them either to yourself or share your thoughts, because dialogue and collaboration are good things the internet can foster:

1. Where does our trash go, and do you ever think about what happens to it once the convenient truck comes by to take it away?
2. Should we sort our trash and what are the effects if we don’t?
3. What ARE the effects of our trash: health-wise, environmentally, geographically, economically? Who has to deal with those effects most directly?
4. Who makes the decisions surrounding our trash and what resources/technology do we have to deal with it?
5. Those of you who are knowledgeable in areas of waste, water, environmental engineering—if you have any wisdom to share with me to help me better understand the factors, risks, already established systems and technologies, so that I can be more informed, I would really appreciate it!!!

I’ll leave you with something that I think has some aspect of hope to it. I’ve mentioned the “cancha” before, which is a very large area of the city filled with vendors selling everything imaginable, including lots of fresh produce. One concern is that all the produce that the vendors can’t sell and eventually goes bad is thrown away in the dump, when it could (in theory) be going towards compost. Being one who is a MAJOR fan of composting, I was excited to hear Padre Ken’s interest in possibly initiating that effort and we plan to talk more about it in the future. For more pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/DumpBlog#

Because St. Patrick's Day was this past Wednesday, I was thinking about my time in Ireland and how in love I fell with the nature there in so short a time. Here are three pictures from my time there in 2005, since I try to end things on a good note.

The photo above is of plaque on a wishing well I happened to pass by on the same road in the photo above this one

Serene he stands among the flowers
and counts life’s sunny hours
for him dull days do not exist
the brazen faced old optimist

5 Things I’m thankful for: receiving artwork from my cousin Caroline; being able to go to sleep at night; my water bottle; having made it through the first step at the immigration office after several months in the making; having ready-access to water and a stove to boil it so it’s drinkable.

The past tense came to town!

2010-03-13T14:43:00.000-08:00

That’s right folks. I finally learned one form of the past tense in Spanish and I’m pretty excited about it. I’ve been speaking in the past tense with many verbs, but now I actually know the rules. It’s incredible the feeling of liberation in being able to express myself just an inkling more accurately. Being able to communicate has a lot more to do with my sense of self and how grounded I feel than I’d realized.

I heard a story from my sister (told to her by one of my high school physics teachers) that affirmed me in this connection of communicating effectively and feeling legitimate: There’s been research done to determine what contributes to self esteem, and the only attribute that has a direct relationship to high self esteem is the ability to strike up a conversation with a stranger. Good grades, money, job promotions, awards, bullying—none of these had a consistent effect on self esteem. Just yesterday I started a conversation with a woman in a waiting room by asking her how long she had been waiting…because I could use the past tense, and you know what, I did feel just a little bit better because I could do that. The little things I tell you.

This past week has been a busy one, partly because almost every day I’ve had to go to one office or another to gather the appropriate papers in order to apply for a 1 year residency visa (next year I’ll have to go through this all again). This process has been a frustrating and tiring one. A friend asked me recently if any negative things have been happening to me, so here is one that I’ll share a part of with you. I’ve had to return to both the police station and a health certificate clinic 2 or 3 times extra because either the woman refused to accept my papers for some reason or the doctor lost my certificate and made me go back to another clinic and then return and wait…some more. Yesterday I waited for a “half hour” which translated into 2 hours to get three pages reprinted because they misspelled one letter in my middle name. I’ve realized it’s not the waiting that bothers me as much as the false expectations people give me.

On to happier topics! I love the babies at the orphanage. I’ve gone two more times since I last wrote and while I’m pooped after 3 hours, it’s well worth it. I found myself wanting to go by in the middle of the week this past week just so I could hug and kiss them. My favorite part of the day is when the women give them baths and then wrap them up in their towels like little Eskimo babies. They hand them down the line and I get to rub their bellies with baby oil, put on their diaper, clothes, socks and shoes and then comb their hair (if they have enough there that is). Today though, one of the highlights was when this one little boy was just dancing away in his walker to the “Happy Birthday” song. He was right on beat and just having a grand ol’ time. I’m telling you, if we all danced as fearlessly as he did, this world would be a happier place.

A week ago I went on a hike with two friends in the valley behind the local Taquina brewery. There were so many wild flowers that I’d never seen before. At one point, my friend pointed out a tiny speck way in the distance on top of the mountain across the valley from us. It was a woman tending her cows. I managed to get a super zoomed-in picture to be able to tell that it was in fact a person and she was a woman.

The next day I went on a day tour with the language school to 4 smaller “pueblos” or towns out in the country south of the city (with their distances from the city): Tarata 33 km, Cliza 37 km, Punata 58 km and Arani 65 km.

We went to a big market in Cliza, where I encountered my first fried guinea pigs and pigeons...

Those who tried the guinea pig said it tasted like chicken. There were also tons of fruits, household products, clothes and much more. For more pictures, please go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/TaquinaHikeAndValleAltoTour#

We went to a restaurant for lunch and enjoyed a typical soup of the area and “chicha”. In the department of Cochabamba, chicha can be alcoholic or non-alcoholic, which is how it is normally served in other parts of Bolivia, as far as I understand. Chica is made of corn and I’d heard several stories about it from other Americans who’ve lived here, so I had some anticipation building up to trying it for the first time. While I didn’t enjoy the alcoholic one as much as the “refresco” one, I do really like the tradition of pouring some out onto the ground before you drink it, as a sign of reverence to the earth (“pachamama”) for having provided the fruits for us. I like this because I normally feel very disconnected from where my food and drink comes from in the US. I appreciate the reminder that I can eat because the earth provides natural resources for us to feed ourselves…because of that, I have a very direct relationship with the earth and it’s in mine and everyone’s best interest to treat it with respect, like part of the family, you might say :)

5 Things I’m Thankful for: my cousin’s heavenly chocolate cookies; getting to see a friend from home here this past week; seeing so many beautiful baby smiles today; getting to skype with my 92-year-old grandpa yesterday and him making me laugh really hard; getting a dentist appointment for this upcoming week that will only cost me about $6 if all I need is a cleaning – wow!

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…”

2010-03-05T10:25:00.000-08:00

Joni Mitchell was right. This has been a trend this past week and while the absence of something can be uncomfortable and sometimes brings a lot of suffering, it’s there that I think we often experience the most gratitude and growth.

Last Saturday I went back to the orphanage, and this time I only waited a half hour. They have over 500 kids living there and on the weekends they need more help than on weekdays, which is I think why I was asked to come back on Saturday. I was given an apron to put on and told the people here were now my family. I followed the woman through a room past 30 empty cribs lining the walls and center of the room, till we stepped outside to a small fenced-in area where I was greeted by 25 little faces looking up at me. The babies of this room were around a year old or a few months younger. All but 5 of them were in baby walkers and the others were hanging out on a play pad.

“They like it when you sing, play with them, and clap your hands, but don’t pick them up because if you do that, the others will cry,” were the first directions I received. I didn’t see a whole lot of the three women in charge of them for that first hour, because they were preparing the lunch, cleaning, and changing diapers. So, there I was in the midst of all these (surprisingly) very quiet babies, not really knowing what to do at first.

Suddenly, I remembered a story my mom had told me of an orphanage that had a floor of babies much healthier than the other floor and they investigated what the cause could be. The floor with the healthier babies was also much dirtier and they at first suspected that the babies had built up certain immunities living amidst more germs. Eventually they discovered that it was dirtier because the cleaning person for that floor didn’t clean at night but instead held the babies—and THAT was why they were healthier.

While I couldn’t possibly hold every baby, I tried to be touching as many as I could at every moment, whether it was rubbing their heads, backs, bellies or playing with their feet. I learned something else—babies aren’t the only ones who need human touch. I do too, very much so. It wasn’t till the past two weeks that I came to recognize how much I miss that touch, and hugs specifically. I really love hugs and I rarely get them here, so me and these babies, we help each other!

Around 11am it was feeding time and then we put them in their cribs to take a nap. Time for a rest? No way. With over 500 kids, can you imagine the amount of laundry? Right, neither could I until Saturday. We walked outside to a large area with lines and lines very efficiently hung to make the most of the space. There were tons of blankies, cloth diapers, towels, itsy bitsy socks and underwear, onesies etc. They do have washing machines but no dryers so everything is hung to dry, whether on lines outside, lines hung across the individual rooms, or on the banisters or railings throughout the premises. Yikes.

Saturday was also the day of the earthquake in Chile, as you all know. The Andes protect Bolivia very well so no one in this country was affected, but my host-mother has a niece who lives in Concepcion. In the middle of the night, she (niece) woke up because she felt a tremor. Once recognizing that the electricity was out, she got her kids out of the house and they fled. Later, they discovered that their house was completely destroyed. I asked what happened to her neighbors and my host-mother appeared to say that the neighbors didn’t wake up in time to get out. Why she woke up and others didn’t, I don’t know, but I’m grateful to hear stories like this. These natural disasters are a reminder to me that life is not something to take for granted, and neither is people’s presence in my life. So, as a reminder, I’m grateful for you, whether I tell you that often or not. You’re important.

Another part of life that I’ve learned this week not to take for granted is transportation. Being a democracy, the people of Bolivia like to use their voice when something is not right in their eyes. This past Wednesday and Thursday I experienced my first strike by the public transportation workers and private transportation companies. This meant that only private taxis were available for those without the means of their own two feet, a bicycle, or a motorcycle. Not only did the drivers strike, but they blocked lots of key intersections, which made using the roads very difficult and I read in the paper that it affected US $1 million of exports in those two days.

Why strike? Because of the problem of drivers drinking while on the job, a new law has been put into place that takes away the drunk driver’s license and also punishes the whole company. I’m not sure if the drivers are more upset that they can’t freely drink while on the job, or the fact that their jobs are in danger due to a co-worker’s mishap. Needless to say, the strike is over today without any negotiation or amendment to the law. Apparently, these “paros” are common, at least that is what my host-sisters said as they rolled their eyes at it.

5 Things I’m Thankful for: not having been hit by an earthquake or lost anyone I know in one; hugs when I get them; being able to walk; having public transportation back; finding wheat rolls at a near-by tienda (store).

High, Low, High

2010-02-26T04:03:00.000-08:00

I haven’t played this game in a long time, but it seems to fit with describing my week. For those unfamiliar, you name a high, a low and then end on a high.

High: Saturday in Cochabamba was the big day to celebrate Carnaval, which meant that they shut down a bunch of streets in the center of the city in order to have a day-long parade of bands and dancers. They call it Curso de Cursos. People can rent an area along the street from city hall. They either build stands or put up a tarp cover and plastic chairs, and then charge individuals to have a spot there for the day. Some people get there by 10am and stay till 8pm, but I chose to go for two hours and to stand which meant not paying for a seat. One, I didn’t know how to pay for a seat. Two, it was super crowded by the time I got there around 3pm and I was happy standing just slightly more protected from “cross-street water-fire”.

I got hit a whole lot by water balloons, water guns and foam sprayed out of aerosol cans. That was probably my least favorite because people would spray it right in my ear. Seeing all the traditional dances, along with the costumes and music made it worth all the hassle. Some of those dances are just incredible and it’s obvious people put a lot of time and effort into preparing for it.

Low: Monday was the day I experienced the most culture shock so far. There were several factors but one of them included waiting. I don’t know many people who like waiting, and I’m generally not a big fan either. A friend and I went to an orphanage to start volunteering on Monday at 3pm when we were told to be there, but weren’t even seen by the woman until we’d been sitting waiting for 1 hour and 45 minutes. She told us to come back on Saturday. At the time, I just laughed, hearing all the voices of people telling me I’d be doing a lot of waiting in Latin America. Later I was able to realize that this waiting time, in addition to waiting till 10pm to eat dinner, actually bothered me.

Who knows why it happened – there’s always more to a person and a situation than what we see. We had a good talk on Wednesday about culture shock and at its root, it involves adjusting to change and the anxiety around that. Above all, we’re supposed to withhold judgment and maintain contact with local people. I’m being challenged through adjusting to life here, trying not to judge too quickly, and I hope you will please do the same. This was one day. I’m going back Saturday and will let you know about that next week.

High: Tuesday I went to my first weekly dance class here at the institute. We’re starting with salsa and will move into other dances like merengue and traditional folk dances as well. I loved it and I’m looking forward to learning more in the weeks to come.

Since Bolivia doesn’t have any representatives at the Winter Olympics, I haven’t heard or seen much of it except a little in on-line newspapers. I hope you all are enjoying it!

5 Things I’m thankful for today: hugs; movies with happy endings; the joy of dancing; really really tasty papaya; and conversations with friends I haven’t talked to in a while.
For more pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

Carnaval and Carmen Pampa

2010-02-19T12:23:00.000-08:00

In case you’ve been wondering since my last post, water-ballooning was a huge success. I missed a lot of people because I forgot that my velocity in the car required me to release the balloon early in order to land in the right place. Alas, it’s a lesson for next time, and I still had a lot of fun trying. Once we ran out of balloons and I got my hands on the super soaker, ohhhhh, those people didn’t know what him ‘em. Before you get upset, you need to understand that this is expected and practically everyone participates in the revelry. Also, we had rules: no older people, nobody in professional clothing, no parents with babies, and I primarily aimed for “chicos” aka males between the ages of 12 and maybe late 30’s or so. Wish you could have been there!

Carnaval. In Bolivia, the heart of the traditions around Carnaval is found in a town called Oruro, which at one point in time was the center of mining. I still don’t feel like I understand it, but I will share a little of what I have learned. Carnaval is not something that one can learn about but one really needs to “feel” it. It’s all about relationship, harmony and balance. By taking part in the celebration, you’re taking part in the same public space and thereby entering into new relationships and making amends. It’s like a weaving because just as there are thousands of strands coming together to create a much larger more beautiful piece, thousands of people work on different aspects to make the celebration what it is, a microcosm for life.

This year I did not go to Oruro, but instead took a trip to a beautiful place called Carmen Pampa. I left at 11pm on Friday on a night bus with Clare, another person in my program. I had to choose between staying hydrated to help ward off my inevitable altitude sickness or not drinking much in order not to have to go to the bathroom as the bus will not stop and there’s no toilet on the bus…therefore I chose to be nauseous and dry-mouthed, but I didn’t throw up this time! We arrived in La Paz at 6am and took a large minivan from La Paz to Coroico, which took about 3 hours. We went from about 12,000 ft. in La Paz to 6,000 ft in Coroico, so I was happy as a clam.

The old road between La Paz and Coroico is notorious for being “the most dangerous road in the world” but there is a new road, which is the one I took and it runs parallel to the old road for much of the journey. People love to pay to ride bikes down the road and I saw many of these adventure-seekers on my return trip. People still die somewhat regularly as I hear through the grapevine, but I’ve also heard the experience is worth the money and the risk. While I didn’t ride down on a bike, I did get to see some pretty incredible views when the clouds were not completely gulping us up.

Our final destination was Carmen Pampa, a very small “pueblo” out in the country or “campo” in the region called the Yungas, which means “warm lands” in Aymara. As stated by good ol’ Wikipedia, the Yungas “is a stretch of forest along the eastern slope of the Andes Mountains from southeastern Peru through central Bolivia. It is a transitional zone between the Andean highlands and the eastern forests. Like the surrounding areas, it has characteristics of the Neotropic ecozone.” I think the part I was in is considered a cloud forest, and once you see my pictures, you can understand why.

We were met in Coroico by “a man in a yellow hat” who is a volunteer teacher at the university for this semester. He took us to a lovely little empty restaurant/café to have lunch/breakfast before taking the 30-40 min. drive out to Carmen Pampa. It had a gorgeous view and they served muesli, which is one of the foods I miss the most since living in Germany.

The dirt road between Coroico and Carmen Pampa is a bumpy one and runs along the edge of the side of the mountain, providing some awesome views of the valley when there’s a break in the tropical vegetation on both sides. We arrived on the campus to be warmly greeted by Hugh, an American who has been there for 10 years and is the VP of the university. His hospitality did not stop for a moment our entire visit – he even drove us at 6:30am on Wednesday back into Coroico so that we could return home to Cochabamba. They showed us to our rooms in the volunteer house and let us take naps since we hadn’t slept that much on the bus. I woke up to the sound of a coconut being smashed to smithereens.

As I entered the kitchen, both Hugh and David (the man in the yellow hat) were working on a delicious dinner, a chocolate cake, an apple cake and fresh bread. Wow! As it turned out, it wasn’t really for us necessarily, but taking advantage of having gas to run the oven. David had waited in line for about 2 hours to get gas that morning in Coroico before we arrived. While they were preparing dinner, we noticed these kids (both boys and girls) outside the kitchen window, hanging up barbie's clothing to dry on the line - so cute!

Before I share the highlights of our stay, I want to give a little background on the university and why we visited. The first academic year was 1993 with 54 students and now there are about 700. The university is “a joint effort between the Catholic University of Bolivia, the Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Conception, the Diocese of Coroico, and the sub-central Villa Nilo, the governing body of the Aymara Indian nation. Motivated by the inadequacy of secondary school education for lifting rural people out of poverty, this new college was founded to create skilled professionals who would become sensitive and impassioned leaders, addressing the most pressing needs of their rural communities. The College serves young people from rural communities throughout the Department of La Paz and from the massive urban slums surrounding the capital city of La Paz.“ ( http://carmenpampafund.org )

They have 5 majors: Veterinary Science, Sustainable Agriculture (Agronomy), Public Health Nursing, Primary Education (Teaching), and Ecotourism. While studying, the students reach out to the people in the surrounding area as well, so the immediate communities are served as well as the students. It’s a great place and I really enjoyed my visit. Because it was a holiday weekend, there were few students on campus but I did get to meet several and hang out with the kids of the some of the neighbors (about 40 families live in Carmen Pampa). Franciscan missioners have worked here in the past so that is how we got connected with them.

4 Highlights: 1. Screen on the green 4 nights in a row--Every night Hugh set up the projector to project a movie onto the side of the house. As my host-sister said, Bolivia is a country filled with very smart people and being such a poor country it is thereby also filled with imitations and contraband. Both of the Twilight movies had been pirated and were of pretty poor quality, but you get what you pay for I guess.

2. Surprise trip to the hospital—just as we were about to tour the upper and lower campuses on Sunday morning, a neighbor came over to Hugh and asked if he could help his daughter whose finger was smashed by a chair. We went along for the ride and ended up staying there for 4 hours. It was a good time for visiting, talking with other patients’ families, and with the nurses who were former students at the university. The girl is fine but the bone did get crushed so she got a nice bandage and was out playing with us a couple days later.

3. Monday Hike—we headed out into the forest down the valley and up the other side, walking past lots of beautiful plants and crops. There were many vegetables I didn’t recognize, but I got to taste a fresh coffee bean off the plant – quite sweet actually. We stopped for about an hour to pick coca with a family and then rested with them and chatted for a while. There were maybe 4 or 5 adults, both men and women, and maybe 6 or 7 kids skillfully and quickly picking coca leaves on this very steep hill. After the coca is picked, it’s dried for a few hours by the family and then has to go to a central processing place in La Paz…at least I think that’s where it is. Their clothing was rather worn and dirty, and yet so were ours. I mention that just to point out a sign that life in the “campo” is rugged and not easy. We hiked on for several more hours and it was great – I loved it and you can see pictures!

4. Tuesday/Carnaval—this day of thanksgiving and harmony-seeking started by taking an hour long ride in the back of a pickup truck along the very bumpy road to a pueblo closer to Coroico for the blessing of a new room in a boarding school and a tractor. The bishop of Coroico and his 3 priests (including the one who is the president of the university at Carmen Pampa) were there along with others. We followed the bishop (who must be in his late 60’s or 70’s) up this really steep hill through lots of long grass, mud and animal droppings to get to the tractor. I was shocked that he could do that with such ease! It’s tradition to take a bottle of beer (alcohol) and spray/sprinkle it as a way of asking for blessing and giving thanks for what we have, so that’s what they did with the tractor, along with water which was sprinkled using a rose. We proceeded to cover it with confetti and streamers.

Later when we got back to campus we went throughout the campus doing the same thing except without the beer – instead we used rubbing alcohol. THEN – I was ambushed with water balloons and foam by the neighbor kids. I wish I could show you a picture of me but I didn’t dare bring a camera near them. There are two pictures of them that I took with zoom hiding behind a door. They told me they’d been playing for 10 hours – not sure I believe that, but I am confident they were wet the whole day.

I made it back safely and soundly to Cochabamba on Wednesday night and after only two days of classes, am preparing for another weekend, lucky me! Tomorrow is the Carnaval party here in Cochabamba. I hope to go and depending on the amount of water, will hopefully get some pictures of the dances and bands.

5 Things I’m thankful for today: a safe return; my photo album of family and friends; receiving hospitality; being able to explore new places; learning Spanish.
For pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

Water Balloons – the war continues. They’ve got it coming.

2010-02-10T06:33:00.000-08:00

Just this morning at breakfast my host sisters were discussing a plan to go out water-ballooning (I just made up that verb) and asked if I wanted to go with them tomorrow. Like any person wanting to learn more about another culture, I heartily agreed. No, vengeance has absolutely nothing to do with it. How dare you even suggest such a thing! My motivation is purely to embrace the Bolivian culture…I’ll let you know how it goes.

Sunday was a big day for sports both in the US and here in Cochabamba. The final championship game between the La Paz and the Cochabamba (two major cities in Bolivia) soccer teams took place here in Cochabamba. People started camping out on the sidewalks surrounding the stadium on Thursday and the tickets didn’t go on sale until Saturday. It came down to a tie and then a shoot-out (where each team gets 5 shots – sorry if I used the wrong term). I watched the last part on TV and it was so intense! Unfortunately, the Cochabamba team lost and as I walked to the city center afterwards, I passed many a sad face. Lucky for me, I was rooting for the Saints so it wasn’t a day of total loss. Way to go New Orleans!

Before the soccer game I accompanied my host mother and uncle to the Cochabamba Cemetery to visit their father’s grave. It’s very different from any US cemetery I’ve seen. They use mausoleums for most people. If you have the money, you can have a little building built just for your family. Some people had plots in the ground but that was very rare to see. Their dad was in a war so his body is in a special section for veterans. As we walked through the section open to anyone, I saw some pieces of paper taped to some of the “spaces” and asked what they were. Apparently, people have to pay a tax every 5 years to keep the space for their family member. If it’s not paid, out you go.

A part of the Maryknoll Language Institute that I really enjoy is their philosophy of teaching culture alongside language. Last week I asked why every house has walls or a fence around it with either spikes or barbed wire lining the top. Here are some of the reasons I was given: fear of burglars; protect people’s savings that is usually all kept in the house; more privacy; it’s a tradition from Spain passed down during colonization.

I also asked about the Bolivian concept of privacy and my teacher responded that it’s very different from the American concept. Take this with a grain of salt because this is one person’s explanation, but here are the qualities/factors she gave: strong sense of a need to protect the family; there’s no need to call or plan ahead before visiting someone—you’re welcome to just stop by (people do plan visits but if not, it’s ok); within the family, individual space does not exist—it’s all communal space; it’s very common to know one’s neighbors; a grandmother is able to greatly influence the life of her grandchildren and has a big say in what happens with them.

Up till this point I haven’t written much about the social needs here, but that is about to change. The Institute encourages everyone to volunteer somewhere once a week while in language school and on Saturday we visited five different possible volunteer sites. Three of the sites are part of a foundation called “Amanecer” (sunrise), which “was founded in 1981 by the Daughters of Charity to serve abandoned and mistreated boys, girls, women and babies living on the streets of Cochabamba.” They have a total of 12 sites and went to Madre de Dios, Casa Nazareth and Salomon Klein.

Madre de Dios had two homes next door to each other: one for women and their children and the other for adolescent girls. These women and teenagers have been physically or sexually abused, abandoned and/or forced to live on the streets. While living there, they get counseling, legal help, academic tutoring and work on their plans to become independent (for example, there’s a kitchen on-site where the women can work from 3-6am baking bread to sell each day and thereby gain that skill). Sometimes seeking justice can be very difficult for the girls because if incest is the case, the male relative may be protected by the family, which makes reunification more complicated. There were only 4 teenagers there but about 20-25 more will be arriving next month.

Casa Nazareth is a home for boys between 5-12 years old. Not all the boys are orphans—some have parents who couldn’t take care of them. They try to reach out to the families and make sure the boys and their siblings are going to school after the boys have been reunited with their families. I was welcomed very quickly by several boys who showed me around the place. My favorite moment was when they put a little green flower bud in my hand and told me to pinch it. Out popped all these seeds and I was totally surprised, which they found pretty funny.

This next place was the most overwhelming in terms of the apparent need. Salomon Klein is a home for 150 kids between birth and 7 yrs old. Just a couple days prior the police had brought a premature baby to their door. The baby had been found in the trash. The Daughters of Charity don’t turn anyone away so sometimes other institutions will bring children to them as well. We were told that coming to simply hold babies is a great need because the workers don’t have time to sufficiently hold each baby. As we exited the big cafeteria (that had hundreds of little pieces of clothing hanging to dry on the banister above) into a giant playground-backyard-area, we were all swarmed by probably 50 or 60 kids between 3 and 5 years old. One moment one boy takes my sun glasses right off my head and the next moment I’m struggling to walk as I have a child sitting on each of my feet wanting to be taken for a ride. These kids were STARVING for attention. I don’t know how the caregivers manage them all.

The public hospital serving those with lower incomes was our second to last stop. They said it would be great if we could come to help feed the kids who’re there for malnourishment and the nurses don’t have enough time to feed everyone sufficiently on schedule. There was an oncology unit we passed and saw a little 3-yr-old boy whose parents used to come but don’t anymore because he’s been there for a year. So there he is, in the hospital alone, with cancer, and he’s 3.

The last stop was a home for girls who’ve been abused. As we got to share lunch with them, I sat at a table with three girls, aged 13, 14 and 16. Since my vocabulary is somewhat limited, we talked about what they do on the weekends and during the week, our favorite foods, our brothers and sisters, and what they want to be when they grow up. Listen to some of these answers given to me with such energy and not a moment’s hesitation: architect, teacher, doctor, the President! How exciting. One of the men in our group commented that he didn’t think the girls acted like other abused females he’d worked with as a nurse in a mental health hospital, because they accepted the men being there. We agreed that it was quite a testament to the people in charge of the home, that they provide such a structure of safety and security. The girls know they are safe there – what a gift! I was particularly amused by their infatuation with Korean soap operas and the posters of the Korean actors/actresses on their bedroom walls.

I’m not sure yet which place I will choose for this short-term volunteer opportunity (not to be confused with my full-time placement after language school). I’ve got to think about it more, but I’m sure wherever I go, it’ll be a rich experience. Stay tuned. Until then, I’ll continue to study, make lots of mistakes, get pelted by water balloons, study some more and keep going.

If you want to see more pictures relating to this post, please go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

5 things I’m thankful for today: I didn’t get hit by any water balloons yesterday; papaya seeds (good natural preventative medicine for stomach problems); my parents had the resources to raise me and additionally they wanted to; ESPN so that we Americans could watch the super bowl; earplugs (to block out the rockin’ birthday party last night at our neighbor’s house).

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Bolivian-Style

2010-02-01T07:00:00.000-08:00

In reflecting on the last week, I’ve noticed a trend and it relates to one of my favorite parts of the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s. In case you haven’t seen it, the two main characters decide to have a Day of Firsts, in which they spend the whole day doing things they’ve never done before. While I did not go into any costume stores and try on different masks, I have experienced a variety of things from drinking a hot purple drink at breakfast to getting hit by multiple water balloons while walking down the street.

#1 First: The Cancha
This is an area in the city of Cochabamba that spreads for many acres and is filled with vendors selling anything from food to ovens for your kitchen. Some roads are wider and cars can drive (very slowly due to all the people) on them and some pathways are very narrow and only for pedestrians. I went with a list: tape, paper, notebook, envelopes, mouthwash. On the way to find these items, I walked past lots of clothing, both used and new; canteens; guns; produce; little carts of random items like toothpaste and locks; stereo systems; farm equipment; mattresses and beds etc. I didn’t see even half of it! At one point I felt just like I was in the rabbit’s hole of Alice and Wonderland, except instead of being surrounded by dirt, I was surrounded by a never-ending tunnel of clothes…ahhhh, it was frightening.

#2 First: Pre-Carnival in Cochabamba
One day last week I am walking to the institute from my house (about a mile away) and I feel something hard and then suddenly cold and wet hit my back. I let out a little yelp and once I realize it’s a water balloon, I start smiling…this is all part of my enculturation into Cochabamba. Despite the fact that my jeans were wet for the remainder of the day, I was happy to be that much more included in the normal pre-Carnival-life of a Cochabambina. It’s the custom here to throw water balloons and squirt people with water guns beginning in mid-January through Fat Tuesday (Carnival) and even a couple weeks beyond. Apparently, young women are the prime targets—lucky me! Actually I am lucky because I’ve had several balloons just miss me and once my back was skimmed by a poor-shot from a water gun, so to make it till late January to be really hit, I consider quite lucky.

#3 First: Cleaning the bathroom & Vacuuming
Just when I think there are agreed-upon ways to do a given task, I am very quickly put in my place. I’ve never seen or imagined cleaning a bathroom like my host-mother cleaned mine. I wish I could re-enact the scene for you, but I’ll do my best to use words. The bathroom is tiled on the floor and the walls with no separation between the area where one showers and the rest of the room—just all open, not even a shower curtain. My host-mom sprinkled soap on the floor, the toilet and the sink and then filled up a recycled coffee tin with water and starts throwing it on everything—the walls, the toilet, the floor. I wanted to sweep beforehand to get the dust and dirt out but NO, “this way is much better and easier,” which I found out to be true. She used the broom to scrub the wet floor and then used a very large squeegee to push the water towards the end of the bathroom with the shower drain. Fascinating.

Afterwards, I used a little vacuum with just the hose to vacuum my industrial-carpeted bedroom. I had to laugh while I was tediously trying to cover this large area with a mechanism that only had a 2” diameter. I have to admit, at this moment, I did think “Wow, if only I were at home, I could get a simple attachment that would make this process so much easier.” I’m sure they exist here, we just don’t have one.

#4 First: Food and Drink
I learned that “tunas” are the same as prickly pears. The same day we picked and ate the tunas, we also made fresh coconut juice. It was delicious! Also, I’m not very good at spelling in Spanish and the corn-mush dish I made with my family is actually called “humintas”. This morning for breakfast I had “api” which is a drink made from purple corn, sugar, cinnamon and another unknown spice. It was a little too sweet for me at breakfast but had a good flavor. Never drank anything purple beside a slurpee before!

#5 First: Creatures
I rolled over this morning to look at my alarm clock and for some reason happened to also look down at the floor. Directly beneath my head was a scorpion. I try to take the Buddhist approach of respecting all life, but I failed this morning because I didn’t want to risk picking it up. So, I killed my first scorpion.

Yesterday as I was walking down the road, two dogs started coming at me growling, so I bent down to the ground and the turned away in fright—it worked!

I can’t picture Audrey Hepburn in any of the situations I was in, but I love the concept so much that I just had to borrow it. Here’s hoping you too find some “firsts” of your own this week. Life is full of them!

5 Things I’m thankful for today: sun coming out after days and days of rain; drinkable water; going out to eat really good food with new friends; being able to run; the grace of not being sick.

What do dogs, the middle of the bread, germs and eucalyptus have in common?

2010-01-26T07:49:00.000-08:00

CULTURE in Bolivia! Each day that goes by, I’m able to recognize more and more things in the culture here in Cochabamba that I didn’t recognize before, so I’m going to share just some of them with you. Please though, don’t take any of this as overall truth—simply my own observations of my tiny glimpse of Bolivia thus far.

Let’s start with the perros. Every day I see dogs roaming around. The interesting thing is that people have dogs as pets and yet there are also so many stray dogs. I haven’t had to do this yet, but I’ve been told that if one is approaching me in a menacing manner, all I need to do is bend down like I’m going to pick up a rock and they’ll go away. Apparently they often have rocks thrown at them, which I don’t fully support but in a moment of possible danger, I definitely won’t hesitate to “pick up a rock”.

Another thing I see every day is people outside washing their cars. Every day. All times of the day. My dad would fit right in here.

He might not however take part in this next daily ritual. At the language institute, we have a coffee break every day about 9:45am. There’s coffee, black tea, sugar, cream, bread and an empty basket laid out on the table. It took me a while to get up the nerve to ask someone but I finally asked why I saw chunks of the middle of the bread rolls in this basket each day? The answer: people either don’t like it or are trying to watch their weight…not sure which one is more primary. It cracked me up that this would be so accepted and expected that the women would specifically put out a basket to collect the poor, unwanted, neglected middle parts of the bread! Yesterday I asked what happens to these good-for-nothing rejects and I was told that they give them to the guard dogs or just throw them outside for creatures to eat. Oh good, I thought, at least someone appreciates them!

There’s a mix of people I see each day wearing modern clothing and traditional Andean dress. I haven’t been here long enough to distinguish the different types, but one thing I have noticed is that many women use these large pieces of colorful cloth to do so many things: carry children either in front or behind, carry large loads of who knows what, as blankets, or as covers. I was on the bus and a woman lobbed this big load of gas tanks wrapped up in a colorful cloth that was tied in all sorts of knots onto the bus. Really resourceful—I want to learn how to do that!

I think the US Department of Health would have a cow if they came here. I don’t know whether it’s rooted in some corporation’s product or what, but we Americans are pretty sensitive towards germs. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved washing my hands and am still a fan…but I’ll just leave it that the general concern here for sanitation is not quite at the level I’ve been raised to adhere to. And guess what? We’re getting along just fine, and the only health setbacks I’ve had thus far are altitude sickness and a cold, which is now all over. I think everyone’s body is different of course, but thankfully mine is handling the food and drinks marvelously…so far that is!

Speaking of drinks, I went hiking with my host-family on Saturday up this ravine in the mountains and drank the water right out of the stream! It was so cold, fresh, crisp and clean. Mmmm. Never done that in the States before. I also learned about a bunch of different herbs, how to identify them and what they’re good for. For example, there were lots and lots of eucalyptus trees and as we driving up this bumpy “trail” my 12-year-old host-cousin reached out the window and grabbed some leaves. I was told to put some in between my hands, rub my palms together and then inhale—wow, does that clean out your sinuses or what? It was amazing and smelled really good. My hands continued to smell like eucalyptus for two days. You can see pictures in my picasa web album.

Each morning, my host mother wakes up and cooks breakfast and lunch. Now, when I was working back home, I’d scramble each morning to throw together leftovers from the previous night’s dinner or make a sandwich to take with me for lunch. Not so here. Lunch is the big meal of the day and I think that’s why it’s given more attention. I really appreciate it, especially knowing how hard it is to wake up early for work as it is. Each day it’s something different – what a gift!

I’ll conclude with another cultural difference having to do with dogs, to bring this full circle: they walk in and out of the church while mass is going on and it’s no big deal. I’ve been told this happens from different friends in Peru, and I guess it happens here too!

Church was a little different in another way too: the collection on Sunday in all churches in Bolivia went towards Haiti. While suffering, loss and destruction are not desirable by any means, it never ceases to amaze me how it often opens us up for solidarity and reaching outside ourselves in acts of unity. I mean, one of the poorest countries in South America is not any less a part of the human family than a rich country and they recognize that when one part is hurting, it only makes sense to help them out. It’s a beautiful reminder to me in the midst of all this war and bickering in politics, that there’s an incredible amount of virtue out there, in each of us, if only we allow it to come to the surface and guide us.

5 Things I’m thankful for today: finding DVD’s of the only TV show I watch—really cheered me up when I was feeling gloomy; fresh tomatoes from the garden; light and electricity; skype; patient teachers.

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

Tour of Cochabamba on Sat. 1.16.10

2010-01-19T11:16:00.000-08:00

Paseo de Cochabamba: On Saturday I went on a tour of Cochabamba with others at the language institute here and it was good to get a little more orientation. The pictures start with our first stop at a plaza. Keep in mind we saw some really nice parts of the city – there’s a LOT of poverty here but visiting some of those places will come in a couple weeks.

After we went to a couple plazas including one where the cathedral is, we went up to the Cristo de la Concordia, the big statue of Christ. It is on top of a mountain and overlooks the valley. It was beautiful but my body just doesn’t like being so high. One day maybe.

Afterwards we went to this beautiful place to eat lunch and relax for the afternoon. The restaurant/place of refuge is called Tolavi and is in Tiquipaya, just 20 min. east of where I’m living. Can you believe the gardens and the beautiful buildings??? The guy who started it used to work at the institute.

Afterwards, we came back to the language institute and I took some pictures around the campus, also very beautiful. I feel like I’m somewhere else when I’m here because they take such good care of the grounds and make it a very comfortable peaceful place. For more pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

A couple other thoughts to share: for my host family, Saturday afternoons are the big extended family lunch gatherings after they get back from church (they’re Adventists). It’s a wonderful meal and this upcoming Sunday we’re going out to Anita’s brother’s place.

So, tell me, when was the last time you went out on a Friday night and only spent $7? A group of us went to the movie theater and out to eat afterwards plus 2 taxi rides and it all cost me $7. I of course will not be doing this every day, but not too shabby when the occasion does arise. I learned how to play “chaco” – a common game played in Bolivia, generally while consuming beverages but not always the case, very much like yahtzee. When we crossed over the “river” to go to dinner, there were lots and lots of soap suds in at the points where it dropped maybe a foot or so…don’t see that every day either.

Our friend here, Iggy a Franciscan priest, told us on Sunday that he got to do something pretty exciting that morning. After months of planning he went out to the country to bless the plots of 32 families who will build their homes in a coordinated project of Habitat for Humanity, San Anthony OFM Missionary Province of Bolivia and Saint Vincent De Paul Foundation. They are all families with no land or house. They will build their houses into homes together over the next months. It has taken them over two years to get the whole project in order to begin. The way Iggy described the absolute joy in these families to see where they’d have a place of their own that wouldn’t be taken away because someone else claims to own the land or they can’t come up with enough money for rent…he said it was incredible.

The value of reciprocity and A grandmother’s secret

2010-01-18T09:56:00.000-08:00

I love Spanish! Today is Monday and the 4th day of official language class for me. The first two days last week were orientation - overview of the institute, method, tour of the campus, health and safety in Cochabamba, living with a Bolivian family, volunteer service opportunities, and presentations from different groups here (Service for mission and leadership in Latin America for example is one group). This is a picture of me (yes, I really am THAT pale and likewise feeling awful because of the altitude on top of the mountain) overlooking the city of Cochabamba on Saturday. More pictures will come next post.

There are 4 classes every day and I will either start at 8am, 8:50am or 11:30am. The time slot changes every 2 weeks and this week it’s 8am for me, so I’m done by 11:30am. We stay in one room and the 4 teachers switch and come to us. We each have one class-mate and mine was a priest from Tongo but is now a sister from Cleveland, OH who will be going to El Salvador. Classes are going well and I’m so grateful to be living with a family because that’s where I get so much practice and learn a lot of vocabulary and culture (a key ingredient in learning a language).

Speaking of my host family, they’re great! I couldn’t have asked for a better fit. One of my fears in coming here was that I’d mostly be offered meat, potatoes and rice. Being a vegetarian who loves fresh produce, this would be an area of real growth for me. As it turns out, the family is very health-conscious and eats lots of fruits and vegetables. The sisters spent a few months in Chile last year with their church. They were talking about how Chileans only eat potatoes, meat and rice and fruits maybe once a month…funny that’s what I thought about parts of Bolivia. I’m so fortunate to be in this fertile valley of “eternal spring” and with a family that likes to eat lots of tofu and eggs, mmmm mmmm good!

Food is important and last night I learned how to make a well-loved typical Bolivian dish, “umpistes” (like Mexican tamales) with “choclo” (corn, but different than US corn –has bigger kernals). I was in my room getting ready to do some homework and my host mother asked me if I was busy. I said no and she invited me, I thought, to learn where the laundry was and how to do it….ha, no. Instead, I spent the next 2 ½ hours learning how to make this dish, which was WAY more fun and interesting than laundry.

Making umpistes involved carefully peeling off the layers of husks (because they will be used later on); cutting off the kernels; putting them into a “mushing” device that mushes the kernels by turning a handle; mixing melted vegetable oil, salt, sugar, and anise with the mush; spooning about 1 c. of the mush onto 2 corn husks partly layered and then wrapped up and tied with a thin husk. These can either be cooked in the oven or steamed in a pot with the de-kerneled cobs on the bottom along with water and anise and then piled to the top with these “mush pouches”, covered and left to cook for about an hour. I had one for dinner at about 9pm when it was FINALLY all said and done and then another for breakfast this morning.

I loved being included in the making of it because it was a real family event – my host mother, her sister-in-law, brother and mother were all there taking part. It’s very sweet to observe the way they treat each other—joking, chatting, and casually rubbing the grandmother’s head, working hard but also enjoying the process and together-ness, not rushing. I couldn’t help but think of how I would be brainstorming with my sisters how to get the task done most efficiently…but that just didn’t matter to them and made the hours much more enjoyable (sorry sisters! I’m learning).

Some other signs that I’m learning new things every day:
1. For the first several days, it was so hard for me to remember NOT to put toilet paper in the toilet…I’ve done it more times than I’d like to remember. I rejoiced the first day I made it all the way through putting it in the trash can 
2. Apparently we don’t get water between 1am-6am. There’s a tank on top of the house and I think we get a tank a day…but I didn’t really understand a lot of that conversation, so I’ll have to get back to you on that
3. We went to the supermercado (supermarket) and my host mom had to put her purse in a locker and took her wallet with her. I guess you can’t carry anything that would allow you to steal? I saw a man in the store speaking English on his cell phone and wearing a Maryknoll hat. He’s a lay missioner here with his family.
4. You always kiss cheek to cheek whenever you meet someone or they enter the room or you enter a room – basically whenever you greet anyone informally. I like that, because it feels like “I think enough of you that I’m going to give you a kiss out of respect”.
5. I’ve been sick with a bad cold, but I’m being so well taken care of! For the past three nights, I’ve been give a cup of hot water with one garlic clove chopped up, honey & lemon to drink right before getting into bed. I was told this is a grandmother’s secret, passed down through the generations and one that I can now pass down to my own children. I felt honored to be in on the secret  Guess what? I’m so much better.

Last weekend, I heard the church bells ring at 8:45 and then again at 9:00. As my host mom and I ate breakfast, we could hear the music very clearly playing over loud speakers. Anita (host mom) told me it was Christmas music and that her past students had told her that music so loud in the morning was not allowed in parts of the US. I agreed that people wouldn’t like being disturbed. She responded that the sisters have helped the neighborhood out a lot – something about getting a water system put in…something very good so people don’t complain.

My host mom walked me just around the corner to the chapel, a smaller church associate with the larger Catholic church about 10 min. away. Afterwards she met me outside with her brother. She explained that there was a neighborhood meeting about to start, and I agreed to stay. They brought the pews/benches from the church out under some trees and just like with mass, people trickled in over the course of the meeting. The meeting began with one man and two women standing up in front of us. We all had a piece of paper with an agenda and things to vote on i.e. to pave certain alleys, to complete a park etc. I don’t’ know what brought this on, but people started standing up and asking to have a word, a “palabra”. They would talk for a while then others would start talking about them to each other or would shout out in argument. Someone would quiet everyone down and then it’d start all over again except with a different person speaking to the group.

At one point an elderly man stood up and when he spoke, people appeared to respect him and clapped for him afterwards. He spoke about us needing to be united as a neighborhood etc. The arguing and interrupting went on for a long time, until finally Anita and her brother got up and left and I followed. I think it went on for at least another hour. Anita says that meetings are not normally like this.

Later on Sunday Anita invited me to the “Mercado”. We drove to this place that is like an open-air warehouse in size and height, but had fewer walls. At the Mercado, we got lots and lots of produce. There were things I’d never seen before and couldn’t tell you what they were. The thing that impressed me the most was this giant gourd/pumpkin – it was probably 2 feet in diameter and you’d only buy and take home a piece of it. There were probably a hundred vendors or so, most selling food but many selling house-hold items too.

I don’t think I feel comfortable enough yet to maneuver something like the mercado with so much human interaction. There are so many social rules and expectations I don’t know yet. I did observe that it’s ok to touch the food but it seemed like some people interrupted or helped themselves while others were standing there…yet no one seemed upset. I don’t understand the order of conduct. Again, so glad I have a host family to mitigate that stress, at least for now. Amazing how something so simple as buying food can be so intimidating here and yet totally mundane and comfortable in the US.

In our orientation, we learned that Reciprocity is a very key value in Bolivian culture. There’s an undertone of sharing, giving and receiving in the way people live and interact. For example, instead of always splitting a check at restaurant individually if with friends, one person may cover it, knowing someone else will get it another time. I’m beginning to sense this more and more – a sense caring for one another and also of belonging to one another. One American, who I think also understood this value greatly and is one of my favorite people, is especially remembered today and has a memorial in San Francisco with the following quote:

“Through our scientific genius, we have made this world a neighborhood; now through our moral and spiritual development, we must make of it a brotherhood. In a real sense, we must learn to live together as brothers, or we will perish together as fools.” –Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

I’ve been feeling very sad about the situation in Haiti. I think the wise words above are good to reflect on especially now in this context, at least for me.
5 things I’m grateful for today: the ability to hear, MLK Jr., a bed, beautiful gardens, sharing meals with friends

What comes up, must come down…right?

2010-01-11T13:04:00.000-08:00

Dogs barking. Birds tweeting. Diesel engines running probably a few blocks away. It is 100% sunny with not a cloud in the blue sky at 5:52pm (one hour ahead of EST) on Wednesday, January 6, 2010. I sit at a desk in my own room with my own bathroom attached, looking out the window at the one-car driveway with the main house to my left and the locked gate to get in, to my right. It is warm, maybe 80 degrees Fahrenheit and a cool breeze blows the white lace window hangings (they don’t deserve to be called shades for absolutely no light is blocked out by them) every now and then. Makes me wonder how early the sun rises and how much sleep I’m going to be able to get.

Wow has it been a day. If you know me, you know how much I love breakfast followed up by dinner and lunch close behind. Today however, I have only eaten two meager bites of toast and later I had one strawberry and one plum (both incredibly tasty). It’s almost 6pm and I’m not at all hungry. That’s because I now know what it means to have altitude sickness and the only good I can see in it is just that – now I know.

I left Miami at about 11pm and arrived in La Paz, Bolivia (the capital city) at about 7am (which felt like 6am to me). Fortunately I slept the best I’ve ever slept on a plane. As we land, I finally wake up and go out to get in the customs line, fill out paperwork very groggily, and get my two suitcases. The four of us (Clare, Lynn and Joel) went to check our bags yet again for our final flight.

Back to my altitude sickness – just had to set up the scene. As we’re standing in line, I feel like one of Voldemort’s apparitions (don’t know if that’s the right word) slowly dying as his spirit and energy are sucked out of him and he sort of dissipates into nothing. I’m doing everything I can to stand up and that is very difficult. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I’m getting hotter and hotter as all my energy is sucked down into the floor and dragging my body with it. I have to go to the bathroom but don’t want to leave because this is important. Finally, the airline lady says I don’t have to be there and my comrades can check me in, so I walk as fast as I can to the bathroom. Lesson – bring toilet paper with you to bathrooms, don’t leave it in your backpack. I still feel awful as I leave and catch a glance of my extremely pale face in the mirror.

Next thing you know I’m back with the group and Lynn is holding me as I up-chucked my dinner. Clare went to get some Bolivianos (the money) and we went to a café where they ordered breakfast and I got a water bottle and two coca teas, which helped my upset stomach. For those unfamiliar with coca tea, absolutely no worries. It is different than cocaine by a long shot. I proceeded to lie down across three or four chairs lined up next to each other and took 2 naps, and I HATE naps! I didn’t feel good but I sure did feel better afterwards.

The flight from La Paz – Cochabamba took ½ hour and my host mom (Ana Maria works as a secretary at the language institute) and host sister (Daniela) were there to greet me. I’m glad I know an itsy bit of Spanish and I’m sure it will get better each day as I’m trying to refrain from using any English. Once we got to their street, Ana Maria got out and unlocked the gate so we could drive in to the little driveway and then they showed me to this little guest house that is all to me – a bedroom and bathroom – I know, WOW! I would say it’s like a two-car garage converted into a guest house. Guess what else??? There’s hot water in the shower!!! I’m living it up.

I then met my 2nd host sister, Cecelia and all three of them are very nice so far. They’ve been hosting students for a long time I think. She, just like my sister Leah, loves to cook and started preparing food for dinner later tonight. They’ve got tons of fruit and vegetables here in the valley of Cochabamba, which thrills me. At the house, they’ve got mango, papaya, bananas, plantains, apples, prunes, strawberries and probably more I just haven’t seen yet.

I have no idea what will come next, but I’m not too worried. Probably it’s because of all the support, love and good vibes you’re sending my way and I know that one much greater than me has the upper hand. Besides, I cried enough on Wednesday to last me a good long while. Thank you all for being here. I’m so so so glad and thankful you are! In addition to YOU, 5 Things I’m thankful for today: clean water, good health, sleep, kindness, my family

Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut!

2009-12-02T08:38:00.000-08:00

Hello and welcome to my blog! This is the place I hope to chronicle my experience over the next three years in Bolivia, where I’ll be serving with the Franciscan Mission Service (http://www.franciscanmissionservice.org/). The aim is to live a mission of presence and service in solidarity with poor communities overseas, and then come back to the US to continue living out that mission here—good stuff!

I’ve been in Washington, DC for training the past 3 months but am now back home in Fairfax, VA preparing to leave on Tuesday Jan. 5, 2010. What have I been learning? Well, we’ve had generally 2 sessions a day 4 days out of the week on a wide variety of topics and then one day a week we volunteered somewhere in DC (I was at Living Wages of Washington in Anacostia tutoring adults working towards their high school diplomas).

Here is an overview of the topics covered:

Cross-cultural realities, adaptation, phases of adjustment

Myers Briggs – I found out I am an ESFJ and that when my organizing-sensing side gets frustrated, I need to remember my values, my heart J (please remind me of this)

St Francis and St. Clare – called people to an attitude of listening and conversation; not to “do” for people, but to “be with” people; sitting down face-to-face and exchanging the good in each other; encountering the poor is a gift from God, relating to someone not as inferior but as a part of God; live without possessing things (not live without things) in order to more fully enter into an exchange and be able to receive; Compassion—a quivering of the heart in response to another person’s suffering; not trying to solve all problems but to share Love

Social Analysis and Faith Reflection—reflecting on the way the world is and way God intended the world to be, and then planning Action to make the former into the latter. In talking about systems, we’re actually talking about relationships and relatedness…How do we repair relationships???

Popular Education-started by Paulo Freire in Brazil; the idea that as an outsider, one can help pose questions that bring about awareness, analysis and learning, in the context that people know their experience better than an outsider and the wisdom is already there.

Environmental Justice – consequences on people and on the Earth; “ishamer” – Hebrew for “to keep, care for, to protect, to do in such a way that full potential can be revealed”; importance of healing; creation is the agent of conversion—“creation is the window into the divine”

Non-violence – communication is key ingredient

International policies and development

Interreligious dialogue—sharing traditions and seeing similarities and differences, recognizing that many people who’re upset with religion haven’t had an experience of freedom and choice but felt forced in some way

Catholic Social Teaching (main gist: Life is Awesome! and there is great Dignity in all Life, with Love at the forefront and what brings any action for justice to reach its full potential)
community – the importance of community and relationships; dealing with conflict

Scripture and Mission – what is the mission of God and of the church? !LOVE! there’s no denying it

Lay mission spirituality

moral responsibility

Helping – the good side and the shadow side

Being an Agent of Change – leading from behind; key to power is organized people

Inculturation—in my own words: how God is present in every single person and in every place and culture. The more official definition: dynamic process in which the Word of God is incarnated in a cultural context, expressed in the lives, symbols, values and meaning of the people of the culture.

Mission—we’re responsible to share our selves and our resources beyond ourselves; to promote love, peace and justice; to collaborate; mission called the church into being

Power and Privelge – being aware of the systems in place that favor different groups of people (class, race, gender, religion etc.) and how we’re a part of that

Trauma and Violence – symptoms, what to do and what not to do, crisis intervention

Intimacy—willingness to allow myself to be changed/influenced through closeness to someone else; being who you are and allowing the other to be who they are without compromising either

Health – holistically: emotional, physical, spiritual, mental

I’ll end with some key quotes and advice I’ve received over the past 3 months:

It’s in the relationships, not necessarily the doing.
It’s not always what you say but how you live it.
Keep an open mind—to receive richness, and be willing to suspend beliefs a bit.
Discomfort opens us up to conversion.
For at least the first year, keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut!