Rainy Predicaments

I was talking to an old friend the other day online, and upon him asking me how things were going and what I was working on, it occurred to me that it had been quite a long time since I have written in my journal. Let me start off by saying I am at a difficult crossroads with my community, Pucará. In mid-September I was approached by the Vallegrande guide service to teach a new cycle of tourism classes. They want to train new guides and knew I was working in tourism. I was excited at the opportunity to work, as it had almost been a full year of struggling to find anything resembling a tourism project. José, the president of the dysfunctional guide association would help with the class, as would Barbara, a Swiss volunteer living in Vallegrande. I told them that I didn’t want to leave Pucará altogether, but that I would come in once a week and stay for 3-4 days.

So life took its course, and I have since been teaching English and tourism classes to a group of 10-12 people. In October I had my friend Thomas come visit, sit-in on one of my English classes and gave him the grand tour of Pucará. Since Emily’s visit in January, I had gotten used to living alone and not noticing how different life was here in my little hamlet than in the United States; but having Thomas there I again noticed the little things that I have just become accustomed to. We hiked and got caught in the middle of nowhere in a huge lightening storm, witnessed some beautiful sunsets over the Andean peaks, and enjoyed a typical Bolivian dish that the Club de Chicas made for him.

One of the main reasons I look forward to going back to Pucará each week after teaching is being with the 8 girls of my Club de Chicas. We have so much fun together: baking, cooking, playing cards, and working in the greenhouse. We were able to sell lettuce two weeks ago (pocketing $1.50!!!), and are just waiting for the moment the tomatoes, zucchini, beets and carrots are ready! The rains have really begun beating down on the Valles Cruceños and with the rains come planting season, which is again in full swing. My 72-year old friend, Doña Laura, is out helping her husband plant just enough potatoes for their own consumption; they can only be gone a few days, because their livelihood, the main store in Pucará cannot afford to be closed. Doña Laura tells me this over coffee and empanadas last week, as we sit and chat about the general happenings of town: when the priest will come say mass next, whether the streets will be fixed before the party of our patron saint, and how frustrated she is that the hospital is running out of her heart medicine.

Last Wednesday and Friday we had a dance and music competition within the whole municipality. Students from the schools in Pucará, Las Huertas, Lacayotal, Salsipuedes, and Kiñal participated in reciting poems, singing songs, dancing, and playing instruments. It was a beautiful sight to see so many little kids gathered to be the center of attention; usually they are squeezed in a corner hiding, watching their parents drink heavily during a town fiesta or at the local “bar”. Prizes of new backpacks, notebooks, and soccer jerseys were handed out to all the participants, and those who didn’t live in Pucará headed back to their small pueblos with big, empty backpacks on their back and even bigger smiles.

I was headed into Vallegrande for a workshop this week when I was told, by my counterpart, that the Council of Pucará wanted to see me. Apparently, to them, I am breaking my contract by going to Vallegrande and teaching. I was flabbergasted at their audacity to not only not be able to tell me this to my face but also by their desire to address my service for the first time in such a negative manner.

In other news, I may appear on a Madrid-based television show, highlighting the joys of adventuring the Bolivian unknown. Two Spaniards working in television and wanting to create a documentary came through Pucará and La Higuera this week exploring the Che route; one was traveling with his bike, the other opted to walk between hitching rides. While waiting for their bus to carry them through to Villa Serrano, I opened up my room to them to have a picnic, repack, and relax a bit. They took their cameras and video recorders out to film the beauty from my window, but also wanted to capture the story of an extranjera living in this little lost paradise. We were lucky because it was also the day of the school musical competition, so Pucará was teeming with young faces and overall glee that often is associated with the end of the school year. They had visited La Higuera where several Italians have invested money in the community and understood the difficulty of bringing aid to impoverished areas without setting a destructive precedent. I think this is one of my main difficulties that I do not want to give in to- setting up a project that gets popularity solely because I am bringing money to the community. It has been detrimental to the community of La Higuera years after the international funding has disappeared and just not sustainable for the future. I am hoping that I can take my tourism curriculum and teach it in Pucará as well; perhaps then they will see that knowledge is the best road to a wealthy community.

I will keep y’all posted as to what happens in the next couple weeks. I am looking forward to Thanksgiving with several Peace Corps Volunteers then the visit of Maman, Papa, and Emily in December.

Thanks for reading, and remember, I only have a year left, so please let me know if you would like to come visit!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Casi un año

The days are perfect. Windows open at twilight and crickets chirping while the odd rooster crows. I arrived today on the bus from Vallegrande sitting next to six tourists on their way to La Higuera; they were snapping pictures and marveling at the valleys down below. Arriving in Pucará, a Belgian couple decided to walk to La Higuera, leaving their large backpacks in my house until their return; the others took a taxi on their journey west. It was a beautiful day to witness Pucará for the first time!
My work with the Mayor’s office is slow and frustrating. My presence is neither expected nor acknowledged- and without support from them, it has been near impossible to rally the community to form a tourism committee or even discuss the issue seriously. My computer classes have stopped; those who were interested have finished the course and that is that. Despite lack of “traditional” work, I still am in love with Pucará and its people. They are the reason I get up each morning (usually!) and make me feel like a pucareña.

I have formally organized a club de chicas; we have been hiking, baking, and reading books in English and Spanish together for a while now and I love spending time with these 8 girls. They are now helping me unwed and replant the greenhouse with fresh vegetables to sell on the plaza on Sundays. I am working on setting up a recycling project with them as well. My 7^th grade class in the school here has begun an exchange with a school in Iowa; we are learning about the Plains Indians and basic English and the 7^th graders in the U.S. are learning a bit of the Incas too. I also have been inquiring in Vallegrande to teach new guides about tourism and some English vocabulary… I am basically trying every outlet towards still working on tourism these days!

When I see experiences such as today with the tourists coming through Pucará, I wonder whether the pucareños aren’t right, and that maybe the level of tourism here is nearly sufficient; after all, most travelers to these parts are looking for the adventure, the hiking, and really experiencing the heart of the Bolivian countryside. Winter is almost over, and aside from a light snow and freeze two weeks ago, it has been uncharacteristically mild.At the end of August I am going south to the Grand Chaco region to visit another PCV, Andrew, in his site outside of Yacuiba where they hold an annual rodeo! Several of us will then venture a couple hours south into Argentina to visit the wineries of Salta. I have been here a year and realize I have chosen the best rollercoaster ride yet of my life!

Dia del Maestro a.k.a. "National Teacher Day"

Yesterday we left at daybreak, all huddled in a flatbed truck, down the mountain pass that goes past the school and various people’s estancias (ranches). From the valley we had to walk a kilometer up a mountain to our destination; having brought along stereo (and battery to play the stereo), cases of beer, buckets of corn, 10 kilos of meat, a grill, and charcoal; we were each trudging up like ants, going to have a picnic. We arrived at Prof. Nelson’s farm and were welcomed with cups of sweet, sweet coffee and warm cheese empanadas. As we ate breakfast and marveled at his location overlooking the mountains and cornfields that he owns, his wife pulled out piping hot zapallo (squash) from the adobe oven. We each took spoonfuls of squash and added warm milk to our bowls, almost like a type of cereal; it was surprisingly delicious and fun to eat! The men began to slip shots of singani into their coffee and the women were gathered in the room with the stove, talking about food and preparing “lunch.” Now, I can’t really say what “lunch” was, because we ate almost all day long. The director of the schools arrived on his atv and came walking up the mountain with cases of beer on his head. We were then ready to go to the cow pasture and enjoy Ambrosia (warm cow’s milk and cinnamon liquor shots). We took turns, and went from cow to cow until there was no more milk coming out of each one! Most of the teachers know that this is the only type of alcohol that I really enjoy, so they took advantage of invitaring me every other shot (or so it seemed!) we were so full by 10 o’clock, that we returned to the house and just lounged, peeling potatoes, yucca, and tomatoes for later. We jammed to cumbia and vallegrandino music. Prof. Nelson is what we call a bailador and asked everyone to dance at least 3 times during the course of the day. As we took off our dancing shoes, Hilda, Nelson’s wife, served us hot zapallo soup with pieces of campo cheese and potatoes. Maria, the director’s wife and I snuck a locoto pepper and added our own spice secretly, giving it an even stronger taste. Gaby, Marile, Adair, and Ivi (all sons and daughters of teachers present) were intrigued with my camera so we decided to go on a photo shoot; I captured funny faces and poses on the mountain; you could tell that even for them, this was the rural countryside compared to “urban” Pucará. I returned to the house after escaping the beginning of “invitaring” (you invite someone to drink after you, then you drink) of beer. Magaly, Nelson’s daughter passed around a plate of fresh cheese, to be eaten with moté (warm corn kernels).
The vallegrandino music switched to merengue and more cases of beer were brought out. The day was perfect, without a cloud in the sky; we went back and forth from sun to shade, talking about families, and food, and telling jokes on each other. The barbeque was being prepared, tomato-onion-locoto salad being made, and yucca boiling on the wood stove, all in preparation for our big “lunch.” At this point I didn’t think I could fit one more morsel of food in my stomach… but dancing to song after song helped me digest. Around 4 o’clock, the meat was finally ready, rice was cooked, potatoes were soft, and beer was running out. We ate heartily, enjoying the last hours of the day and knowing that we could fast tomorrow if only to enjoy one more piece of grilled steak and a little more yucca. The kids were getting cranky, and the teachers went around making speeches about the importance of an education and working for the future. It was an odd moment for me because I was included as if I were a teacher like them, Bolivian like them, in this little hamlet at the end of the world; and I guess for me it was enough to show that feeling of really being included in their celebrations, such as this “Day of the Teacher,” to show how accepting they are of having me in Pucará. No one treated me differently, I had to haul down a crate full of empty beer bottles and sit in the back of the truck like everyone else… and after such a glorious day, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Chicha de Serrano

So i was invited to Villa Serrano with all of the primary school teachers last weekend. I was excited to be able to get to know them better as well as having the opportunity to see the two volunteers in that town, and as a bonus, check my email! We left after lunch on Friday, riding a camion (something between a pickup truck and semi trailer) through the mountains, down to the Rio Grande, across the Santa Rosa bridge and through the towns of El Oro, Achiras and Nuevo Mundo. The ride was bumpy at times, scary at times, and interminable at times, but I think it was probably one of my most favorite transport rides in Bolivia. With no roof the sky was the limit; I discovered trees, mountain tops, condors, parrots, and host of other wildlife and an ordinary car doesn’t permit you to see. We arrived in Serrano, famished and achy. The teachers at the primary school there greeted us with soda, chicha, and crackers.
Now, the chicha in Serrano is no ordinary chicha. “chicha” by definition is a fermented corn drink, that has the consistency of 0% milk, the color of cornmeal, and a rather interesting flavor. Serrano chicha is not just all of the above, but has 40 proof alcohol and sugar added to it (as if the fermentation process wasn’t enough to get you on the dance floor after one glass!)
Saturday arrived early and most of the men had come back to the alojamiento (named “misky life” which means “the sweet life”) at 5 a.m. from the Chicheria. They were too drunk to play the games which were scheduled for that day, so the women had to play. I put my best skills into a game of basketball (which we lost) and then fulbito (which we tied)… but it was a gorgeous day and fun to get out there and play with other women. The backdrop was a breathtaking view of the mountains surrounding Serrano and the weather was perfectly hot! That day I had a nice breakfast with Sarah, Melissa, and Andrea in Melissa’s new house and lunched at the Mayor’s house (where Sarah lives).
The afternoon was spent leisurely, chatting with the girls and catching up on the latest news. One of the teachers held a BBQ for us that evening, and we had good steak on the grill with moté and of course, chicha. We danced to a couple cumbia songs, some coplas, and then I excused myself to go watch a movie with the girls.
On Sunday I found Oso (bear in Spanish), my new puppy; the girls in my computer class named him, because he looks like a little bear. He accompanied me back to Pucará in the camion… along with the semi-unconscious bodies of the men in our group, who, stumbling into the truck insisted on bringing back some chicha for the ride! Ahhh.

Back to Pucará this week where we have had surprisingly good weather though the cold permeates my room each night and lowers it to a chilly 40°. Winter isn’t even on its way yet, but like many of the mysteries of Bolivia, fall and spring don’t really exist, just extended winter. We had a successful meeting on tourism services here in Pucará and people are getting excited about working on their houses; next step, finding funding for a series of courses that we will have here on hospitality, sanitation, and starting a bed and breakfast! Meanwhile, I am drawing a large map of the municipality and working on turning half of the library into a tourist information center.
Tomorrow I am teaching the 7^th grade class for the first time; part of a partnership with a classroom in the States, the program allows an interchange of information and ideas from students to volunteers abroad.

May 1^st is Bolivian Labor Day and the 3^rd is the Fiesta de la Cruz. Celebration time once more in Pucará! Hope you all are well, enjoy the beautiful spring weather for me!

March in Pucará

March in Pucará is lovely. The sun shines brightly with a gentle wind, the days still remain rather long, and best of all the rain tapers off into afternoon showers instead of day-long monsoons! Fields are green, and I was able to go blackberry, peach, and apple picking, mmm! The flies are fewer and I can leave the windows open throughout the night.
March in Pucará also had its moments of frustration. I experienced my first moments of “ohnoihave20moremonthsofthis”, work came to a standstill, my bathroom leaks into my neighbors house, and I lost my first companion. My puppy, Gatsby, was run over by a car; alas, these things happen. But these events I suppose just showed me that I cannot change the course of certain events, only how I react to them. So after being mad at the world, things got better. I have started working in the biblioteca more, often doing puzzles and playing with kids before they go to school in the afternoons. Computer classes are going along, and today and tomorrow are sign-ups for the April course. A lot of the alumni from the course now come and type homework, and show off their skills to their friends. They still ask me each week whether we have gotten internet hooked up yet…they seem more anxious about getting internet than electricity. I suppose the hype of cyberspace reaches the depths of Bolivia as well!
March in Pucará had its share of funerals as well. I have been to more funerals during my service than I ever had in the States. Living in a small town, everyone goes to the funerals, and a small town with an aging population increases the death rate considerably. A time of mourning also becomes a time where Pucareños seem to lean on each other more and really come together to help each other out. The funeral of Sr. Pedro Montaño last week was beautiful. We processed from his house (where people had prayed the entire night before) up the hill to the cemetery on the outskirts of town. The parrots and birds were chirping, a band played typical Pucareño procession music; and slowly the cemetery was filled- with solidarity, with tears, and with sweet notes of mourning.
I travel to Cochabamba next week to reunite with B40 and have an in-service. This means I get to return to Bella Vista and visit my host family; this also means a nice vacation from the campo life and time to rejuvenate in the city. Then I will be ready to tackle whatever April may bring…

Travels in Bolivia, by taxi, bus, train, and plane

With Emily it was as if time stood still.We laughed, we discussed, but most of all, I was able to show her life in Bolivia. And I realized that as normal as her visit seemed, so is life here in Bolivia. Sure, we ran into a predicament with the Police in La Paz, our 6 hour bus ride turned into an 11.5 hours of riding in a bus which undoubtedly came straight from the junkyard, we were left stranded in La Higuera and had to walk home at dusk, and had to listen incessantly to the Entel woman yell “TARJETAS” outside our hotel in Sucre… but all those seem to fade away in the background when I think of all that we did, the kilometers of Bolivia that we experienced… in taxi, in bus, in train, and on foot.
Our first stop was in Samaipata, home of El Fuerte- a large site of Incan and pre-Incan ruins that, if excavated fully would be larger than Machu Pichu- and town of beautiful views of the Valles Cruceños. We hiked to El Fuerte with our Bolivian guide, Jose, learning native plant species, catching up on the latest gossip from the States, and completing the visit with gorgeous views from the top.
We left with what we thought was ample time to arrive at Vallegrande to have lunch with Joy and Jonathan (PCVs who live in Vallegrande)… but a broken taxi, a beer, and a cumbia-laden taxi ride later made us rather late. Sunday is market day there, so we explored the fruits, the vegetables, the used clothing, the hand-made sandals, and the fresh juice stands… all being offered by colorfully dressed cholitas from the campo. By the time we were on our way to Pucará, it was dusk… though perhaps it was better that the road couldn’t really be seen!
We awoke to a nice day in Pucará, avoiding rain and too cold of temperatures! I introduced Emily and her boyfriend to several people in the village, including Mayor Fernando. We decided to go to La Higuera with him after lunch… so we went in his newly “repaired” truck along with some Argentineans that we met in the plaza. Never returning to pick us up (duly noted in my book for the next time I travel with the Mayor!), we walked back to Pucará, admiring views and a gorgeous sunset.
The next day we hiked to Las Ingas, Incan ruins about 1.5 hours away. The path we used is that which horses, mules, and farmers going to the campo use daily. Once at the ruins we were followed by a cow and her two calves, apparently claiming stake on the property. These ruins still are privately owned, and the noticeable constructions have diminished over the years as livestock and people still trample the site- something I plan on addressing immediately to the community. We then had tea with my host family that afternoon, and visited a little more of Pucará before getting back to my house before nightfall!
Our trip to Sucre required us to go first to Vallegrande, and then overnight on bus to the city. Arriving early the next morning, we explored the market. Em and Corentin sampled Api- a warm, maize drink- and buñuelos- fresh beignets. We then went to the Andean Textile museum that was amazingly well done, historically and visually. Just over the Santa Cruz border it is amazing how Andean-rich the artesania and the weavings become and how they vary from community to community. Sucre, from my perspective, is my favorite city. Nestled in a basin, its streets are intimate, the architecture is simple and Spanish-colonial in style, and the atmosphere is fresh and uplifting. I was also glad to see typical Andean women, clad with their polleras and braids- something I have missed since leaving Cochabamba.
We spend the days there walking, visiting the cemetery where most of the prominent figures and many presidents are buried. We sampled salteñas, fresh juices, and Emily and I even found a café with good cappuccinos!
Having decided to go to the Salar in Uyuni (the Altiplano), we departed for Potosi in taxi. The beginnings of Potosi showed its reason for being- large silver factories and mines, and a city completely designed around Cerro Rico, the large mountain where silver was excavated. Once the largest city, and still the highest city in the world, Potosi has a very utilitarian presence; drab buildings, typical hearty meals served in large restaurants, and a clouds of grey that seem to oppress the city ever since the fall of its silver empire. The textiles and weavings were extraordinary bright colored and provided a beautiful contrast to the pattern of the city.
Next stop: Uyuni. Our bus from Potosi, which was to take 6 hours took 11.5 as we stopped every hour to fix the front tire, and interspersed were stops to go through small streams, which had turned to rivers. Quite possibly my worse bus ride in Bolivia thus far!! The good thing is that we arrived in Uyuni in time for our tour of the Salar. Located about 20 kilometers from the town, the Salar is the largest salt flat in the world, measuring 2,000+ km in area. Since it is the rainy season, we were only able to go as far as the salt hotel, missing much of the sights at the center of the desert but still experiencing the most breathtaking view of my life. A few carefree runs barefoot through the saltwater, a gourmet lunch, and a few goofy photo shoots later, I was left awestruck, wondering what else there was to do there except breath in the amazement. Dinner that night was among several other gringos at a great pizza place in Uyuni run by an American. It was refreshing to again be surrounded by gringos and we dined on pizza with ground llama meat as a topping; it was wonderful (and a cholesterol free meat at that!)
A long wait for the train and three third class purchased tickets later (no more room in first or second put us in the popular class which pretty much means the sardine class) we were on our way to Oruro, catching sights of Lago Poopo as the train pulled in. We decided to hop the bus directly to La Paz as we were short on time and immediately fell asleep on the more comfortable (relatively speaking!) bus.
La Paz was another point of amazement. It was exhilarating to be in a big city again, with skyscrapers and a diversity of peoples and activities. We stayed at a friend’s apartment and wandered through the market streets containing everything from socks to kitchen appliances to vendors selling roasted nuts and fresh squeezed orange juice. The following day we awoke early to our journey to Chojasivi, a small Aymara village on the shore of Lago Titicaca. The residents of Chojasivi are developing their tourism site and services and as their first actual tourists, we were given a treatment fit for kings. Dressed in traditional Aymaran garb, we were honored by the Mayor and introduced to all of the prominent figures in town. We were then taken by two tour guides in wooden sailboats around the Lake and to Isla Majawi, a small island with colonial remains, where the residents of Chojasivi use as a haven when fishing and also for ceremonial purposes. The sky was as blue as the grasses were green and as our cheeks were red from the perfect day. We returned to the village, and before us lay a feast of fried fish, chuño (dehydrated potato), rice, salad, plantains, and cut potatoes. Don Tito, the Alcalde, then proceeded to play a wooden flute for us and show us a traditional dance. As we were leaving, the villagers were having a ch’aia (inauguration) for the hospital they built. We were invited to meet the men and women and offered ample amounts of coca and beer, which are offerings for the Pachamama as much as for their guests.
Unfortunately that was the last of my moments with Emily, with Corentin, with our La Paz friends, and freedom from routine PCV life. But, like all good things, they must come to an end… or at least to a suspension. I rushed back to Santa Cruz to attend a tourism and cultural fair where Pucará had a booth. While we didn’t have much to offer in terms of tourist attractions presently, we brought live music (played by Pucareños) and pictures of the beautiful Cruceño Valleys. In terms of my job it was a great learning experience, and good way to jump back into work!

Felicidades! Happy New Year! Bonne Année!

Christmas and New Year´s have passed and for me it was the best of both worlds....Christmas Eve in Pucará was spent making empanadas, galletas, and cuñapes and decorating the manger scene in a several houses around town. Gray and rainy, the satellite phone lost connection sometime mid-afternoon, and the line of people desperately attempting to use the phone (myself included!) slowly dwindled, resigning to the fact that it would just have to wait until tomorrow (or two weeks from now) to be fixed. I went to an evangelical service at 7 just as a storm was rolling in, and then made my way to my friendYuma´s house, where i was to have dinner. We sat around the manger scene in the living room, chatting and drinking Coca Cola, awaiting dinner at midnight. Her family killed a pig for the occasion, and though skeptical to eat chancho for the first time, it was quite good! After good company, good food, and wishing Angel, Melba, Yuma, Miguel, Rosemary, and Maria Alejandra Feliz Navedad I walked home to my new house, closed the door and lit candles, playing christmas music on my Ipod and delving into the second Harry Potter book (I am addicted!). I awoke the next day with rainwater flooding into my room (so my room still needs a little work) but excited to go to mass and see all of the children gathered together. After church, I helped serve hot chocolate and pastries to all of the kids in Pucará and chatted with them in the plaza, getting soaking wet and loving every minute of it. Two missionary families who live in Pucará (from Michigan) invited me to Christmas dinner, and it was a blessing to have stuffing, mashed potatoes, AND pumpkin pie- a true feast unilke many i have had here thus far! I then went from house to house with the children, singing and dancing to “el niño” which is the baby Jesus in the nativity scene. After dancing around the altar we were rewarded with empanadas and pastries; we walked to the next house, with our mariachi band playing behind us, and everyone peering out of their doors to see what house was next.
Two days later I was in Samaipata visiting my friend David´s family and soaking in gorgeous views of the cloud forest and gardens of the eco-resort we stayed at. I barely made it out of Pucará as the rain and fog prohibited anything without 4WD to make it up the mountain… I finally hitched a ride from Pucará at night and made it according to plan. Once in Samaipata, we hiked to waterfalls, took advantage of the sunshine, drank too many cups of REAL coffee, and chatted around glasses of wine!
New Year´s… Santa Cruz was awesome, if nothing else that the fact that I was surrounded by my amazing friends and just thankful that we are all healthy and happy after our first 4 months in country. As pictures can attest, we celebrated the night at a Mexican restaurant, drinking margaritas and watching the fireworks light up the sky. All the guys in the group took advantage of the ample amounts of firecrackers sold here to have their own little show, scaring everyone in sight by setting them off inches from our feet! We then spend the first few hours of 2006 dancing in a club on Santa Cruz’s posh strip of dance clubs…not the way I would have imagined spending New Year´s a year ago (but a million times better!)