Claire in Bolivia

Dia ch'aku Uma Rutuchi

2008-10-17T15:24:00.007-04:00

Hailey turned two on October 6. My friend Cooper and I went to visit our friends in Bellavista, Cochabamba to celebrate their daughter's birthday and take part in the traditional "first hair cut." We arrived early, helped set up the party, saw the steaming Phampaku (chicken, plantains, and potatoes cooked underground with burning rocks) being unearthed and carried in its enormous metal pots. We had a beer, naively thinking that we would only be drinking a beer or two and returning back to the bustle of the city before dark.

Little did we know the party didn't even start until dusk, Hailey's friends trickling in and sitting down at the mini Coca-Cola tables donated by Wilhe's job at the local Coca-Cola factory in Quillacollo. The parents were offered chicha in hollowed-out pineapples, wine, and papaya liquor (all good separately, chaos-inducing when mixed!).
Hailey was then dressed in her beautifully intricate white dress, her hair separated into little sections to make the hair-cutting a bit more painless.

Cooper, Hailey's mom Teresa, and I sit down next to an offering of fruit and treats, preparing to attend to the growing line of guests waiting to make an offering of money to Hailey and then cut a piece of her hair... she immediately gets into the grapes averting her eyes from the dozens of stares in her direction. As her godparents, Cooper and I do the honors of cutting first. Traditionally if there is still hair to cut and all of the guests have offered, the godparents have to keep offering until she doesn't have any more strands to cut!!!

The night continues with chicha, dancing cuecas, more chicha, cerveza, and more dancing. Cooper and I were now comadres and compadres with Hailey's parents and in the six hours that ensued after the ritual, our glasses were never empty and we rarely had a break from dancing the traditional Bolivian cueca with our handkerchiefs in hand.

These are the kind of parties that you dread because you know you will be there so long dancing and drinking and "compartir"-ing until you want to fall down tutuma in hand...

These are the kind of parties that you cherish because you know you will be there so long dancing and drinking and "compartir"-ing until you wake up finding yourself remembering that you've promised to have another such party soon and experience it all over again ...

Feliz Cumpleaños Hailey, gracias por tu fiesta!

(Don Zenobio, Hailey's grandfather, cutting her hair)

(Nearing the end, but there's still hair to be cut!)

(A very tired Hailey after she finished eating mangos from the offering blanket!)

That just happened...

2008-09-28T10:58:00.004-04:00

In the cockpit of our C-130

View of Lago Titicaca from the plane

Cathedral San Francisco, Lima

View of a barrio in Lima

The Pacific Ocean & Larcomar center in Lima

Just 12 days after being...
...asked to inventory my house and consolidate with the other 113 volunteers in a hotel not 5 minutes from my house, moved to another hotel not 3 minutes from my house, evacuated in a C-130 to Lima, brought to the PC-Peru training center in Chaclacayo, filled out 83 papers, poked and prodded by the medical staff, teased by the large mall in Lima complete with an Apple store and Starbucks, signed back as a "normal" US citizen no longer in care of Peace Corps, flown down to Juliaca, taxied to the border, taxied to La Paz, and bused to Cochabamba....I'm back in my casita.
Its odd. Being in Bolivia for the past 3 years makes me think inevitably of my ties to Peace Corps, to my fellow volunteers, and the amazing work that is done day in and day out by each us. And now its over. Not necessarily forever. Maybe the program will resume next year. Maybe. Until then many have come back to visit their communities, their friends, adoptive families, finish their projects and classes. Many have come back to a life they made for themselves here. And I am one of them. Sure its not forever. But to leave this majestic country behind without thought or care would be impossible.
I'll be here finishing my project with Habitat for Humanity, visiting Pucará, and enjoying Cochabamba and my friends for a while. Then its off to Brazil. To the beach, the rolling waves, and caipirinhas! Then... well, vamos a ver!

Incallajta

2008-09-11T12:52:00.001-04:00

Life is a Highway...

2008-08-19T09:56:00.004-04:00

Its been a while, I know, I know! More exciting stories you say, more pictures of Bolivian food, culture, llamas. Its coming, I promise.

Mi vida aqui has been like Tom Cochrane's Life is a Highway:
"...like a road that you travel on
When there's one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind"

Peace Corps is undergoing a project shift, merging my project of micro enterprise development and community tourism into a more general business education and small business development program; with this change comes the restructuring of goals and site development. Next week I'll finally be on the road again visiting volunteers and returning to Pucará where I served as a volunteer.

My work with Habitat for Humanity continues to grow. We are almost done with our Community Leadership pilot program (for kids ages 8-12) in a community about 10km outside of Cochabamba where Habitat is also building houses. I hope to finish the project report so that they may replicate the project throughout Bolivia next year.

As the months come and go, so do good friends that have been working alongside me. This weekend will be full of despedidas (going away parties), picture-taking, and the requisite late-night outings to sing karaoke...

pictures soon to follow!

The Bolivian Experience

2008-04-07T20:05:00.010-04:00

We leave around 8:30, hoping to get to Sanipaya by 10... the road is so bad, we stop to help a stranded truck, Doña Ana doesn't waste any time, and begins using her pushkin to spin wool.

We finally arrive to the small Andean community, completely enamored by the scenery but frustrated as we seem to be the only ones who got the memo of the "wool dyeing workshop" a volunteer was to present that day. Another setback... we wait... we take pictures... we start boiling the water for the cochinilla, which is a base of dried and crushed red parasites that live on cactus plants.

In the end, a couple of women showed up, strolling up to the house we were holding the workshop as if they were casually stopping by. This community has approximately 90 weavers in their Club de Madres so you can see why we were a bit disappointed when a mere 9 women showed up! In the end, the 3-day workshop in various communities was successful for the women who attended.
More than anything it was amazing to see the beautifully rich colors that could be acquired for the most part from plants and flowers that grow in abundance in these regions. Most of the women in Bolivia knit and weave, and seeing them make something so complex and rich out of a pile of wispy sheep's wool and eucalyptus leaves, suico, and macha macha had me dumbfounded the entire trip. As volunteers working in most parts of Bolivia, we see that it is not the resources that are lacking, but the often times poor organization and valuation of their labors.
In the end, as human resources we can do little more than plant the seeds of opportunity.
An opportunity in this case for these Cochabamba communities to form a recognized association with statutes, goals, and a united voice to ask for resources from their local governments;
An opportunity for women who often times see little of their families income, and hold even less of it;
An opportunity for these women to continue relying on their natural surroundings and relive the historical importance of their weavings, despite the modern conveniences that make imported fabrics much more available.
The four days we were at these workshops, the sun didn't shine once. It rained, and rained, even snowed! However, the perseverance of the women that did attend, and of those men and women who helped facilitate the workshop was impressive. And in a world of continual instant gratification, the intangible results we as Peace Corps volunteers usually achieve can often times be demoralizing. But we know the sun will shine again, and we must find comfort in knowing that we often times reach men, women, and children in ways we are unable to see in the moment... sometimes you just need to look for it in their faces, their kind words, and your own heart knowing you gave it your best.

Site Development in Sajama

2008-03-03T16:58:00.006-04:00

This past weekend I went to Sajama to meet with the local tourism organization and get to know the attractions of the Parque Nacional Sajama. It is the highest peak in Bolivia (6, 542 meters). This inactive volcano has snow year-round and is known as a destination for mountain climbers around the world for its relatively moderate climbing difficulty. It is located right on the border of Chile in the Department of Oruro. Along with 3 other Peace Corps volunteers we explored the hot springs, natural geysers, and various species of llama, alpaca, and vicuña. Below are a couple pictures...Enjoy!

View from the road approaching Sajama

A very wooly llama!

An alpaca pelt being dried in the sun

Soaking in the hot springs

The twin Payachata mountains, view from Sajama village

The llamas and alpacas watching us leave Sajama

Carnaval en Oruro 2008

2008-03-02T14:28:00.001-04:00

Arriving from Cochabamba to Carnaval in Oruro was like inhaling a rush of music, bold colors, and adrenaline in one breath. Women selling pastries, plastic adornments, water balloons, spray foam, fried chicken, cold cerveza, water guns, ponchos, and hotdogs with french fries lined each street corner, hoping tourists and residents alike would stop to indulge. After a while you feel yourself blending in as just another pair of eyes spectating the dances. You see the expressions on people's faces, their thoughts as they spray foam in your hair, peg you with water balloons filled with paint, and as the television crews catch you on candid camera.
The color and intensity of this festival is like no other in Bolivia, and I was thrilled to have been a part of it. Below are just a few highlights of the festivities... que disfruten!

Little girls dancing the Pujllay (hoping onlookers will give a coin or two)

Vendors outside our hostel selling adornments, hats, and water guns

One of the several big bands parading in the Plaza

Orureñas dancing

The Tobas dancing with parihuana or ostrich feathers

Cholitas de La Paz passing through the Plaza at night

January

2008-01-25T09:56:00.000-04:00

I just came back from doing a radio show for a local Cochabamba station. Kancha Parlaspa, meaning "speaking in the cancha(or market)" in Quechua, is relayed all day in the large market here, sounding music and interviews. They also allow local artisans to promote their products and advertise for local fairs that take place in and around Cocha. Another volunteer and I spoke of the mission of Peace Corps, how we work with artisans and micro-enterprises and also of our experiences living throughout the country.

Yesterday I assisted a group of 12 Canadians and Americans in building a house outside of Cochabamba.; they are one of Habitat for Humanity International's Global Village groups. Most of them had traveled to South America before and had great stories about integrating and working together... it is really amazing to see the energy around a build. As they say in Argentina, they had "muy buena onda" (good vibes) around them. They were busy building the foundation, digging dirt, mixing concrete, and bending rebar- and they were kind enough to let me help!

It has been raining a lot in the past couple weeks, flooding several areas of the Chapare as well as Santa Cruz. The precipitation, on top of the annual Carnaval preparations, make for very wet days. Teenagers like to hang out on the main drags of Cochabamba with water balloons pegging every man, woman, and child (and dog!) they see...it can be fun if you are equally armed with your own bucket of balloons!

I'll be traveling next week to visit some volunteers in the Chiquitania region of Santa Cruz. I promise to post some pictures of the trip!

Happy New Year!

2007-12-30T10:36:00.000-04:00

Its the end of 2007 and I have finished my 27-month Peace Corps Service. It has been a wonderful collection of bold emotions, painted images of the Andean countryside, and experiences of immersion in Bolivian culture. Most of the Volunteers who began with me in August 2005 are now back in the States, adjusting to the idea of customer service, grid-lock traffic, biggie soft drinks, hands-free cell phones, and throwing their toilet paper into the toilet! I, on the other hand, have decided to stay one more year (as most of you already know!), not wanting to give up speaking Spanish daily, eating salteñas on the street corner, being a part of political history, and throwing my toilet paper in the trash can!
I had the pleasure of coming back to Virignia for a month to celebrate Christmas and New Years with my parents, sister, grandparents, and various friends; thank you all for your support the past two years and now, I would not have had such an experience without your letters, phone calls, and general good wishes!
I am now living in Cochabamba, and truly love it! I have a roommate, another Volunteer who is staying a third year, and our house is very central (near the soccer stadium, an outdoor market, a gym, and several dance clubs!)
I begin working next Monday with both Peace Corps and Habitat for Humanity International. I look forward to the new challenges these jobs bring as well as the thrill of living again in a city.
So, I will be continuing (posting more regularly, I promise!) on this blog site: claireinbolivia.blogspot.com/

I wish you all the best for 2008 and look forward to sharing this year with you!

Back in Red, Yellow, and Green

2007-06-29T17:11:00.000-04:00

“Has traído el frió contigo, Clara!” (“You brought the cold back to Pucará, Claire!”), they tell me upon my return from vacation a couple of days ago. I was so anxious to arrive, that despite the bitter cold and muddy streets, I walked around town, greeting my good friend Yuma, stopping by the mayor’s office to let them know I was here, and searching for Osito in the plaza. I felt like years had passed since I was last here, it was nice to see that nothing had changed; the pile of rocks in front of my house was still there and Doña Inez was in her usual spot selling Sunday lunch and Jell-o to those who wanted. The wind was cold alright, but after a warm two weeks in the States, it was bearable. I went home to Virginia to surprise my dad for his 60th birthday; my plane from Santa Cruz was late, so the surprise at 1:00 in the morning wasn’t as exciting as it would have been surprising him at home, but nevertheless worth the trip!

I settled excitedly into my childhood room, jumped on my bed, took a scalding hot bath, walked barefoot on the carpet, stuck my head in the freezer; I even went through pictures and memories of life before “Oblivia.” I awoke the next day, thinking I needed to put on shoes to walk to the bathroom, but instead saw my mom bringing me a cup of tea; its one of those experiences you amaze yourself at how easy it is to fall back into a routine, even after two years. Every step I took, however, felt a bit new. Running around the neighbourhood at such a low elevation made me feel like I could win the Boston Marathon, and I almost panicked walking into my local Safeway grocery, not knowing where to look or what seemed edible behind all the plastic wrapping. Instead of everything feeling new, though, I think it’s just that I now see things with changed eyes, as if everything had a new value. Why would you need to buy 20 rolls of toilet paper, when you can just buy two at a time at your local tienda? Why is “fresh” lettuce sold in a plastic bag? As I was suffering a case of reverse culture shock, I allowed myself to enjoy the benefits of such a life…Sharp cheddar cheese, 7-11 slurpees, sushi, microwaves, hair straighteners, washing machines and dryers, comfortable couches, 300+ television channels… all things I couldn’t really find much to complain about! But of course the best part of this trip weren’t the amenities I was happy to have, but the people I was with. Spending time with my family and various friends was by far the highlight. I went to New York City, shopped in Manhattan (and realized people spend more on their pets’ weekly grooming than I have on my own grooming in the past two years!), walked the streets of my sister’s diverse Brooklyn neighbourhood, ate hot dogs and rode the Cyclone at Coney Island, even visited the new terminal hub/memorial at ground zero, and strolled through Central Park. Through all of these activities, I appreciated the aesthetic beauty of cityscapes and the amalgam of languages spoken in the streets. I could see the draw to living in the States, despite the lukewarm reputation we have abroad, and for someone who was completely disillusioned with living there before, it was a welcoming surprise.

Like most vacations, they pass in the blink of an eye; fortunately there were few mishaps, aside from running a stop sign that was definitely not present last time I was home and saying something in Spanish on occasion. But the funny thing was, I realized that like Pucará upon my arrival two days ago, life in the States hasn’t changed that much either. I guess I am the one who has, and whether it is for better or for worse, it feels good to know that travelling and experiencing the ends of the world are indeed the best decisions I’ve made in all my 24 years.

Easter in Pucará

2007-04-13T17:11:00.000-04:00

Easter has come and gone... and along with it the humid breeze of summer. Saturday we experienced a cold front that required all of gloves, hats, scarves, and té con té (tea with liquor shots in them.) As cambas were arriving in their detailed four-wheel drive vehicles to visit their pariente Pucareños, everyone was wondering whether there would be a fiesta the next day because of the weather. Women huddled by their adobe ovens as bread was made by the kilo and men just decided to begin drinking in anticipation.
Mass was at 3:30 a.m., meant to be celebrated so that we would finish as the sun was rising. I was asked to be the godmother of a five-year old, Alejandra, who lives here with her grandparents. Her parents live in Santa Cruz and have another daughter, but thought raising two was too much, and therefore was sent back here. She is a rather wild child, speaking her mind, hitting girls and boys alike when she doesn’t get her way, and practicing to be a tomboy. But in return she has a wonderful, caring spirit, and I was honored to stand next to her that chilly morning. After the main ceremony was over, about 15 children, mostly babies, gathered around the altar in their white gowns and Father Carlos anointed each of them; we lit our candles together, everyone hesitant to blow them out in hopes of raising the temperature of the church a degree or two. I went to have cafecito at Doña Miriam´s house (Alejandra´s grandmother), and the Nescafé and fresh bread were a welcome treat.
Sunrise was beautiful as I was walking back to my house along the cobblestone street. It looked like all the prayers and good wishes for a sunny Easter had been fulfilled. Women were selling salteñas in the morning, and children were dancing near Prof. Cesar as he played his accordion. I sat with Doña Laura, one of my good friends, outside her store, both like little cats soaking up the mid-morning rays of sun. She wanted to “dar la vuelta” in the plaza, so we did. On the church side of the plaza, I could see women still kneeing in the church, praying. On another the vaqueros were finishing off their ambrosia; stumbling to untie their cows and to bring them back to the fields. On yet another, children were playing soccer with a deflated ball, staying away from the main drinking holes. Women were gathered around the lonely telephone, waiting to call family in Vallegrande or Santa Cruz. The phone hadn’t worked in two days due to the cold, so the line was long and older ladies growing impatient. I could hear teenagers whisper and mock me as I walked linking arms with Doña Laura. Usually you go around the plaza with your cortejo (boyfriend), and of course, my lack of boyfriend in this town makes everyone gossip that I hide him under my bed, or that I just have too high of standards for the pucareños.
In the afternoon, I showed Karate Kid III in the library, kids piling three to a chair, sitting on tables and on the floor. They had obviously tired of seeing their fathers drunk and wanted a new diversion. After the movie, a couple of the boys and I debated which was better, part I, II, or III not to mention which of them had the best karate kick. Before I knew it, the sun had set, and it was yet another holiday I would not see next year. I have to admit I would have done most anything for a brunch out on the patio in Virginia and Maman´s home-cooked meal. Then I realized that it probably wouldn’t have included morning salteñas, accordion music, or strolling through the plaza… so I went to bed completely satisfied on this beautiful, crisp, sunny day in Pucará.

Unconventional Carnaval

2007-02-20T18:09:00.000-04:00

carnaval is a time of water balloons, comparsas, binge drinking, and foamy string...

last year was spent in Vallegrande but this year, i was unable to make it to Oruro for the best Carnaval of Bolivia. i planned on going until i became sick with bronchitis again and had to stay in Cochabamba until I finished my antibiotics. feeling a lot better but longing to get back to Pucara, i decided to cancel my vacation plans and return to santa cruz to take a bus back to vallegrande...

unfortunately there were major landslides the day before i was to leave and after sitting on the bus for an hour or so, i saw that the chances were slim that a landslide could be fixed in a couple of hours...after all, this is bolivia, the land of "ahora" meaning tomorrow, and "ahorita" meaning after a siesta. so i waited a couple of days and, with another volunteer, decided to take a taxi to make any detours and turning around (if necessary) much easier on a two-lane road. We prepared to leave as heavy rains hit Santa Cruz and the surrounding area. The landslides worstened and entire villages were being washed away, some estimated 1,000 trucks and cars, most of them carrying goods and fresh vegetables were stranded on small strips of deteriorating asphalt and sinking in quicksand. The rains continued and we thought perhaps flying to Cochabamba and taking the long way home would be easiest; we booked flights only to find that the "long way home" road was also closed due to heavy rains.

i was looking at being stuck in santa cruz for the weekend... and not just any weekend, but Carnaval... where plastic ponchos and silly string are typical daily acoutrements of any person between the ages of 5 and 80. I must admit i haven't been hit too badly yet; aside from being pegged this morning during my yoga routine on the balcony of my hotel, i have been quite lucky. buses, taxis, men selling orange juice, women flipping hamburgers... all fair targets during these couple days.

The sun has been shining for two days now, so my hope is that I will be able to head back to Vallegrande and Pucará tomorrow or thursday. i look forward to getting back to liliana, alejandra, nina, richard, david, cristian, maria, and all the other kids who frequent the library every morning. i also begin a series of tourism lectures in March so i need to begin preparing for those. but more than anything, i anticipate returning to my "simple life" (no, not even remotely similar to that of paris or nicole!) but the tranquility of the countryside, the views of the andes, and the villagers of my little pueblo. i long for hour chats over nescafé, making roscas with doña mary, strolls along the creek with oso, and sitting on the steps of the alcaldia's office contemplating life with don choco and iver.

Feliz Mardi Gras!

Rainy Predicaments

2006-11-14T18:08:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-19T17:07:00.000-04:00

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"

2006-06-09T17:06:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-01T17:04:00.000-04:00

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

2006-03-28T18:03:00.000-04:00

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

2006-02-24T18:01:00.000-04:00

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!

2006-01-04T17:59:00.000-04:00

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!)

First Days of Paradise!

2005-11-18T17:58:00.000-04:00

An old man whistling down the way, walking into the sunset from his long day in the fields… a dog hobbling along the cobblestone, rushing to find dinner at his owner’s door… children laughing, screeching while playing hide and seek in the plaza… roosters continually announcing the day and now dusk… these are the sights and sounds felt as I sit outside after my third day in Pucará. Today was the last day of school so the entire town went down to the school for the Pedagogic Fair. For days before students were painting pictures and murals, finalizing their science experiments, and perfecting their physical fitness performances. Most of the day was spent sitting on the grass, watching local dances, baton routines, and band performances. Already half of the kids know my name and think it synonymous with the ‘pelota’ (soccer ball). We have played every afternoon since my arrival, which children as little as 4 wanting to have a part in the action. Girls have played as well, though usually leave discouraged after not being passed the ball. “Where did you learn to play?” they ask. As if soccer was some long forsaken sport totally unknown to the female race. We play on the grass field at the school; the older boys play futbolina on the basketball court. I would love to get to know them and play at their intensity, but it is obvious that they rule the court and are not ready to have a girl invade their space; all they do is stare and whistle… and laugh at the little kids.

The big budget meeting is tomorrow morning- I suppose it will be my first “official” appearance in town, in front of the Alcalde (mayor) and other officials. Technically, I am trying to push for more funds to be allocated to the Culture and Tourism sector of the budget, though where exactly that money will go is yet to be determined. The previous volunteer, Michelle, started a library, complete with books, games, computers, and a television. It seems there is a great demand for computer classes, both from students and adults, and in order to continue using the library and dive right in to a project, I will be teaching computer basics. I will be going against my will and teaching Windows, and also Word and Excel. Apparently some Pucareños travel the 2 hours to Vallegrande every weekend to attend a computer class, and with travel and lodging it ends up being an expensive course. In order for this computer course to happen I had to write up an operating plan, asking for money from the state, the Participacion Popular, and the Alcaldia itself.

Yesterday I met Maria Yuma, a young woman who is on the library committee. She helped me write this plan for the classes and since then we have chatted a lot. She is the clinic administrator and knows a good deal about everything in Pucará; her energy and friendship has been welcomed with open arms. Between playing soccer, preparing for the budget meeting, and mingling with the school congregation, time has been moving along. Of course there are moments, such as these, at night when I try to escape to a book to find something familiar… or at least take on an activity that I would be doing whether in Paris, in Charlottesville, or in Pucará, Bolivia. I wouldn’t call it homesick; because that insinuates that home is where you would rather be- instead it’s just the need to get accustomed to a series of awkward, uncharted situations.

I have yet to move into my own house, and until then I think it will be hard to feel really at home here. I look forward to the day when I can shut my own door and open it again in the morning, feeling completely rejuvenated and ready to be Bolivian again. I tell my family I will be leaving next week to spend Thanksgiving in Santa Cruz with other Peace Corps volunteers. Its odd when holidays and customs just don’t translate; surely it is the same for us and customs here. I am anxious about leaving, if only for the time it will take to get accustomed once again to living in such a remote place. I am on my second candle, watching it burn as I write or read. I keep waiting for a phone to ring, a car to pass by, or a random horn to blow. But had you never heard these sounds in your life, a day here in Pucará would be perfectly normal… and loud.

Pucará for the first time...

2005-10-29T16:58:00.000-04:00

Pucará appeared to me as a speck clinging onto a hillside, hidden between the lush mountains of Santa Cruz and the fertile valley of the Rio Mizque. I arrived by bus with my counterpart, Iver, around 11 o’clock… I met his family and they hardly exchanged two words to each other. This is the second day I have known Iver and conversing with him is one of the most difficult tasks I have had here in Bolivia. He is an intelligent high school professor and president of the governmental group of Pucará- yet is incredibly short on conversation. Pucará is even smaller than I imagined; it consists mainly of a large plaza, a cute colonial church, and a series of adobe houses, creating a small grid around the plaza. I met the Alcalde (Mayor), the Official Mayor (Asst. Mayor), most of the professors, and most of the town in general. I helped Iver teach his English class that afternoon… we practiced telephone conversations and the students now want me to tutor each of them individually. The volunteer before me built a series of greenhouses, both for families and for the school. Iver showed me what seeds they had planted and how they were attempting to build another even after her absence.
Corn and potatoes are the main crops, and basically the only crops around Pucará… at every meal this week I’ve eaten molé, steamed kernels of corn, potatoes, and rice. In terms of food supply, Pucará is desperately lacking any type of fruit, legumes, and meat. My first day there I couldn’t help but mentally list the amenities that Pucará lacked: light, produce, accessibility, communication, and general town maintenance. My room for the week was the front room of Iver’s family’s house. I slept in a bed behind a curtain and realized much to my dismay that I shared this room with several rats… This was the beginning of a long, sleepless night spent wondering how I was to make my next two years productive, especially considering my job was to promote tourism in this remote community.
The next day brought more fog, chilly temperatures, and rising uncertainties. I went for a run and explored the countryside, which I immediately fell in love with. This is literally a melting pot of topographies, and the intersection of departments (Sucre, Santa Cruz, and Cochabamba). I just walked around the town a bit, introducing myself to people, went to the first tienda and came across the town “Golden Girls”. Two cups of coffee and an hour later I had answered every question imaginable about myself and heard about the latest news to hit Pucará. This mainly consisted of the new evangelical gringos that moved in and who don’t try to speak Spanish and who was the best family to rent a room from. It’s amazing how universal a group of women chatting and a warm hospitality can do for the soul. I immediately changed my outlook on my future 24 months and took a deep breath. The people have proven to be nothing but hospitable and excited to have another volunteer. Later that afternoon I went with Iver and the Alcalde to La Higuera, which is the site where Che Guevara was captured and killed. We were to attend a meeting concerning a new road being built in La Higuera and all the townspeople are vehemently against it. The Alcalde, being up for reelection this December was undoubtedly trying to appease his audience; it was a long meeting, which ended in the decision to have another meeting next weekend. I was able to visit the museum and chat with one of the guides who has lived in La Higuera his entire life. He is probably 70 or so years old, and how excited I was to realize that I was speaking to a walking history book.
The rest of the visit was rather smooth. I found a room to rent though it will only be able to move in after December 8th. That is the day of the annual Pucará festival and apparently people from all around Vallegrande and Santa Cruz attend. I am interested to see the magnitude of such a party in this small village. My room is in a new house, and overlooks the church, plaza, the mountains, and the Rio Mizque. I will be living with an old abuelita (grandmother), and thus think that it will be a quiet, pleasant arrangement. Later on, I made my way back to Vallegrande (about 1.5 hours away) and was amazed as to the abundance of this city. I can find anything imaginable here, including brie and gouda that are made by a German family who lives here! I can also get my mail delivered here, which is much better than having to travel 8 hours to Santa Cruz to do so!
Upon my return to Santa Cruz and today to Cochabamba I have realized that perhaps the most difficult thing about these next two years will not be when I am in Pucará for days on end, but the duality I will experience when going in between there and the city. It was difficult to see all the lights and noise of a city. Its amazing how this little village seems almost stuck in an era devoid of modernity. On a lighter note, we all went out on the town last night in Santa Cruz. Having forgotten our “going out” attire back in the states, we were quickly denied entry at most of the clubs downtown. We tried to turn on the charm and sweet talk our way in wearing jeans and flip-flops while others flounced by in flowery skirts and stilettos! We finally found a “club” which, after entering, realized it was more of an under -18 dance hall, decorated with streamers, pumpkins, and Fanta punch. The 14 of us were just happy to get out and let loose, so we accepted the small loss of integrity and had a great time dancing!
Back now to Bella Vista, where I have only 10 days left to spend with my family and fellow trainees before swearing in! This week is not only Halloween, but also Todos Santos, a huge family celebration with an abundance of food and social engagements.

Happy Halloween!

Pucará, Santa Cruz

2005-10-18T16:57:00.000-04:00

I woke up this morning to a despedida, or goodbye to the daughter of my Doña who was here with her family from Buenos Aires. They left at 4 in the morning and after saying goodbye to them I went back to bed for a bit. Now I am drinking Toddy (the Brazilian equivalent to Ovaltine…) and sitting in my room, anxious to start my day.
I found out I am going to Pucara starting mid-November. The site looks amazing. Small town of 1,500 people upon a hilltop… Apparently there is an ample water supply as it lies beside a network of rivers… but does not have electricity. I have warmed up (clearly won’t be doing that literally) to the idea as I have known for a week that I might be put there. It is a welcome challenge, and like my Program Director said, “Claire, its perfect, you can have a nice romantic setup with candles everywhere!” The mayor’s office has solar panels and therefore will be able to charge my computer or use vital things while at the office, and the town of Vallegrande is about 45 minutes north in taxi. My language partner and closest volunteer here in training, Jonathan, has been placed in Vallegrande, so I am thrilled to have a close friend within an hours drive. Vallegrande is a town of about 8,000 people and has all the amenities I may need and apparently is a hot spot for great food and shopping. I am about 7 hours away from Santa Cruz city in coach bus… a perfect distance from civilization I think. We leave this Sunday for a week to meet our counterparts, visit our regional city of Santa Cruz, and meet our host families. I am beyond excited to finally know where I will be going and to be able to see myself somewhere 4 weeks from now! In the group 14 are going to Santa Cruz, 2 in Cochabamba, and 3 in Sucre. Everyone was content with his or her decisions and I think that we are all relieved to be towards the end of training.
If you ever make it to your local bookstore, Vallegrande is on page 287 of the Rough Guide: Bolivia. My town is of course not on the map, but it is between this big town of Vallegrande and La Higuera, which is the place that Che Guevara was killed. I will be able to write more about my projects after next week and for the next two years, but my goal is to make this town a tourist attraction while people are on their way south to visit La Higuera. Pucara lacks even the most basic of amenities (besides electricity!) such as restaurants, hotels, and tiendas, so my goal at the beginning will just be analyzing existing conditions and a plan to make it more attractive.
In other news, my family in Bella Vista is still recovering from their feria (festival), which I missed due to Tech Week. There are still chicha buckets in the lawn and the town looks a bit disheveled. We are going to make crêpes on Friday together, for the length of time that I talk to them about food and things I eat in the States and France, it is time I let them experience it! Spanish class awaits me and I still have “homework” to finish… Hope you are all well, thank you for the emails, letters, and packages, they make each little complication of life here in Bolivia fade into the background! chao~

Tech Week

2005-10-13T16:56:00.000-04:00

A Thursday in Independencia at noon, overlooking a soccer field and primary school.
We have been here since Sunday for our tech week….which included but not limited to: teaching a class on natural resources, painting a mural in the town square and another for arbor day, giving a workshop to restaurant/tienda/hotel owners, trailblazing through Pajchanti, a 4,000m cloud forest, and planting 50 trees with 6th graders.All is going well and we are finally winding down… we are all exhausted, but it has been a great warm-up for what is to come. Aside from a clumsy Claire fall in the river and cut across my hand (and bruise to my ego!) we are all healthy and happy. The hike on Tuesday was to Phiña Laguna and the Bosque Pajchanti. It was an amazing 8-hour hike with an altitude (4,000 ft.), views of La Paz, and climbing through native grasses thigh deep! Some of the time we were able to use the animal trails or fallow, terraced fields, but out goal is to create a trail and map for tourists where there presently is none. Now we have to organize all our pictures, design a map, and make a trailhead sign to place outside of the town of Independencia.
Our last day in Independencia was spent painting our trailhead, making a brochure for an ecological farm right outside of town, and cementing our signs into the ground. I woke up and ran around the soccer field, kicked the ball around with some boys and helped them move their goals. Girls never play on the field, they are limited to playing on the basketball court next to the big field… not sure if that is just the way it is, whether they could play on the field if they tried… but I plan on changing that when I get to my site. I realized this week while living next to a soccer field that getting out there playing and coaching excites me. Working with girls in general to develop their social skills and confidence outside the home is clearly a necessity- and what a better way to do it than through the outdoors and sports. So Bolivian National Women’s Soccer team, here we come! With Shannon, Sarah, Greby, and the two volunteers Liz and Emily, we placed our signs and had a celebratory dinner. We then went to Liz’s house and had a bonfire, complete with wine and s’mores… later we went and performed a C’haia… a Quechua offering on the bridge where we placed our sign. We offered beer, alcohol, coca leaves, and cigarettes to the Pachamama (Mother Earth) to watch over our sign and ensure that it lasts. In reality we just hope it doesn’t get cut for firewood as most signs do in the campo! We walked home down the hill on an overcast night with the moon peering through the clouds. The mountains were so dark it looked like black and white cutouts against the clouds… and despite the frustrations of the week and the exhaustion that will ensure tomorrow, I still wonder why I was the lucky one to be experiencing this. This week we are in Cochabamba: Monday we find out our sites, Thursday-Friday Sarah, Shannon and I have to work the artesania fair downtown, and Sunday we leave to visit our sites and meet out counterparts and host families.

Pictures of the first couple weeks

2005-09-30T13:43:00.000-04:00

Día Mundial de Turismo

2005-09-28T16:55:00.000-04:00

World Tourism Day announced itself a sunny, clear Tuesday in Cochabamba. We set up our booth with posters about natural resources and listed the “Leave no Trace” slogan translated into Spanish. We were one of the only educational booths, not offering package deals to the Chapare region or Amazonia, but instead offering games and conversation about responsible travel and saving what little natural resources we have left. The theme was Travel and Transportation, celebrating the centennial of Jules Verne’s death in 1905. This was a quote that struck me: “En 1950 eran veinte millones, el año pasado 760, y para 2020 se calcula que el número de los viajeros
internacionales superará los 1.600 millones anuales. “ Basically saying that the amount of travelers worldwide in 1950 was 20 million and by the year 2020 that number will be up to 1.6 billion. Our booth was one of the most popular, kids enjoyed the games and adults were fascinated with what the gringos had to say; I also think that the engaging manner of standing in front of our table, willingly entering conversations (and apologetically declining offers for dinner and tours around the town) was an approach unlike any Bolivians are used to.
What amazed me was the success of our presentation with the bare minimum supplies (markers, chart paper, poster board, and candy). PowerPoint, color copies, laminations, brochures, and advanced technology were not an option, and in hindsight would have been extremely unnecessary. The best part, however, was looking at my watch and realizing that Shannon, Sarah, and I had conversed with hundreds of people in Spanish for a 5 straight hours! I remember staring up through the jacaranda trees in the main plaza and thinking how lucky I was to be able to do this only a month after arriving in-country!
The days are getting warmer and my village of Bella Vista is getting ready for its annual festival. Each night in the church square, people are dancing the tinku, diablada, caporale, and cueca- all practicing for the big weekend. Unfortunately the same weekend we leave on our “tech week,” traveling to different sites and visiting current volunteers and observing their work. Tomorrow I am giving a presentation to 8th graders at the middle school about renewable natural resources and the physical characteristics of Bolivia; I hope to learn as much from them as I am teaching them- especially considering most of my information is out of a textbook and not through experience like them.
In other news, I have undergone a new Bolivian haircut, learned new card games, wandered aimlessly in Cochabamba, and fall more and more in love with Bolivia each day I wake up. I hear of my site announcement in about 2 weeks and am anxious to find out my new home!

Top 10...

2005-09-19T16:53:00.000-04:00

Top 10 things I have learned this week in Bolivia:

10.When life breaks your camera, you start noticing things and paying more attention to the scenery that passes you by…
9. I am not as immune to amoebas and parasites as I thought I was…
8. Some of the best ice cream I have ever had hails from Cochabamba…
7. Trying to open a wine bottle with a utility knife is NEVER a good idea…
6. My favorite meal is Milanesa- a filet of beef breaded and fried with egg batter- and Relleno de yuca with queso…
5. Hand-washing my laundry, while much more time-intensive, is also much more effective…
4. Running every morning on a grassy path alongside the mountains while women pick their gladiolas to sell at the market sure beats running on a treadmill…
3. It costs $2,000 for a family in the campo to have a landline telephone…
2. There is a good chance I will be working at a site where I would be promoting a tourist destination along a CHE (Guevara) tour…
1. “Capacitar” does not translate into English (like I thought it would) as “ to brief someone on a specific topic”, but instead “to prepare a female, usually a cow, for fertilization”…

As you can tell, things have been going well for me… there is still nowhere else I would rather be despite the mishaps and cultural faux pas that I have encountered. Today we went to the famous Virgen de Urkupiña, where there were apparitions of the Virgin Mary. Every year on the feast of the Assumption there is a large festival and pilgrimage to this church. Farther to the south of Quillacollo, there are ancient ruins of silos where grains, maize, and even personal belongings were stored. They were placed very symmetrically according to the wind direction, and are located high atop a plateau- a view which yields an awesome sighting of Cochabamba and the large Christo statue.
Sunday, I went to mass at the Cathedral in Cochabamba. Built in the late-16th century, most of what remains today is restored and not original, but beautiful nonetheless! The plaza adjacent to it, Plaza de 14 de Septiembre is quite the gathering place on Sundays-for the young and old, rich and poor; jewelry vendors, ice cream carts, and shoe shiners all cluster in the park underneath the beautiful jacaranda trees; at times its nice to just roam and feel like a tourist and not like a resident!

The Chapare...

2005-09-10T16:52:00.000-04:00

Woke up to the sound of my alarm clock at 6, praying that it was just a truck passing by my window selling bread and spreading political opinion throughout the campo. I rolled out of bed and went for a quick shower before our field trip to the Chapare region. Only once I was unclothed and freezing in my concrete bathroom did I realize that no water was coming out of the showerhead. My family was not up yet, and so I dressed, took a vitamin C and started walking the half hour to my fellow Tourism volunteer’s house. From there we started on our 2-hour ride to El Paraiso, a.k.a. Paradise, where we visited a trout farm and tourist destination. A PCV almost finished with her service came along and after exploring the cloud forest where this “paradise” was located, she gave us answers to questions that only those who have been here two years hold. A lot of it was about technical aspects, working with the local mayor’s (alcaldia’s) office, not playing a political role in your community, and what to do when nothing you expected to get done gets done. In the past three days, I have gone from feeling really frustrated with being able to make a difference, to feeling extremely eager to finally be applying some architectural/ planning elements to my community, to feeling utterly self-righteous in this new place. Thursday we went to a school where we spoke of education and natural resources. We tried to ask this 8th grade class what they thought were advantages and disadvantages of their school system, and using that same model, what were strengths and weaknesses that their community possessed in terms of natural resources. The best response we got to the latter question was a blank stare. I suppose that for me realizing that the level of education of one’s own surroundings and the opportunities and threats that exist not even a kilometer from one’s house is practically non-existent. On Friday, we visited the Museo de Historia Natural Alcide d’Orbigny; here we met with the director who gave us a tour and demonstrated to us that he was a great asset to us once we are in our sites. He is an archaeologist who is an expert on local artifacts, and there is a great possibility that our location will be one where these artifacts are the goal of our tourist attraction. In this session we also were briefed on how to build a community museum with artifacts, epoch-clothing/ attire, and pictorial histories. I regained the glimmer in my eye when I thought of having to design the infrastructure, layout, and presentation of this community museum; I only hope that this is an activity that takes hold in my community! Today at the trout farm the other two tourism volunteers and myself led a workshop with the owner of the farm and two prospective trout farmers. We had about a minute to prepare what we were going to say, and then brainstormed activities that could be ameliorated in this specific case as well as prioritizing steps for the potential farmers to take in order to be successful. Perhaps this is the element of my job here, which is the most taxing on me, at least for the moment. The idea of myself conducting this workshop in my still sub-par Spanish and suggesting to this Don the best way to create a fish farm and draw Bolivian/International tourists is near impossible to grasp. I neither feel qualified academically nor feel it appropriate for me to be in this position! In perspective, now that the day is over, it was a great learning experience, if only for the practice in running a workshop and introducing ideas of tourism and visiting a site due to its natural attributes which are still very foreign to the typical Bolivian.
I guess the moral of this story is that in the end all things even out. The rollercoaster days are always balanced out by a good meal (trout and local white wine!), fellow volunteers experiencing the same frustrations, and having a family to come home to. The week has flown by… tomorrow I get to experience my first Bolivian wedding, I promise pictures when (IF!) I dance! Chao~

Escuelas y Fiestas

2005-09-02T16:51:00.000-04:00

After a full week of language and community tourism classes, I am exhausted! Today we visited a secondary school about 20 minutes away to sit in a class and see the differences in educational settings between the States and Bolivia. A big part of our primary and secondary projects will be working directly/indirectly with young adults, and this was a great way to see how we could best suit the learning needs in a classroom setting. The school was centered around a rather large courtyard, and despite having large student-to-teacher ratios (about 30-1) the classes seemed well organized. There was a very different method in teaching, which for the most part is jjust lecture, with little room in the school day for analytical thinking and hands on activities. In the campo (suburban countryside) there are little resources and these students didn’t have any books. I attended an English class where they were learning names and colors of clothing. My friend Ashley and I were an interesting commodity in the classroom- after being asked every question from whether we liked Bolivian men to why we were in the Cochabamba region of all places in Bolivia, they wanted our autographs, phone numbers, and email addresses. Our session was meant as a brainstorming activity to which we later applied a hypothetical lesson plan based on our Tourism or Microenterprise sector.
I made the 30-minute walk home as dusk was falling, content to go home and ready for the weekend! Tonight we played cards with Romina, Theresa, and Wilhe. I taught them the delightful game of Gin, and they taught me a couple of Bolivian games. The wind at night gets pretty fierce and it cools off quite a bit; my family seems to take advantage of this and is always early to bed, early to rise. I almost feel as if I have been a part of this family for more than a week. They are in my thoughts when I am away from them, and today for the first time, they have conceded in letting me help in the kitchen! Tomorrow a fellow PCT's host family is throwing him a birthday party- this requires dressing up and going into town beforehand and buying a cake. It will undoubtedly be a rite of passage in my Bolivian culture, drinking chicha, eating more delicacies, and dancing to a new kind of rhythm.
Here are some pictures, there are few for now, but promise to put more up soon!

Trufis, Bolivianos, and Bella Vista

2005-08-31T16:50:00.000-04:00

Today was our first day going to the training center in Hullyani alone. I woke up before anyone in my family at 6:00 to a knock at the front gate. Unsure of what to do, I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I thought perhaps it was one of the other PCT’s so I opened the door. I was still half asleep and when they were asking for Don Zenobio, I didn’t know what to tell the couple at the door. I ended up having to wake Don Zenobio and Doña Victoria up… that was only the beginning to a long day! I picked up my friend Jonathan at the end of my street and we began walking where we would meet Shannon and take the trufi to Quiacollo, and then on to Hullyani. My other closest neighbor has been in the hospital for 3 days with salmonella poisoning and chest congestion, so I was rather disconcerted when Shannon told us that she too had been ill all night! I have thus far felt fine, if not perfect, so I hope my luck continues!
Once at the Peace Corps training center, I had Spanish class followed by culture, safety, medical, and community development classes. Each Wednesday I will be going to training, and it is a great place to catch up with everyone that I never see on a daily basis! After class we all went to visit David at the hospital to cheer him up. Hopefully he will be home and in good health tomorrow! Most everyone has a cell phone here, so I made the plunge back to modernity this evening after putting all of my energy into a conversation in Spanish about phones, prices, guarantees, credits, etc.! I was with 3 others at this point, and despite today being a fellow volunteer’s birthday, we headed home. The hour long trufi ride was rather cramped, uncomfortable, and host of other things, but seeing Coch fade into the distance- seeing the true lives of Bolivians as they make their way home each night- made it all worth while; I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. After the other 3 got off the trufi in their campo, Marquina, I continued along for about 15 minutes. When my stop came, I can’t say that I wasn’t scared, because these steps were really the first ones that I had made really on my own… I have not felt unsafe in my community yet, and while I wasn’t going to let my guard down, I also was not going to be mistrusting of my neighbors. This being said, I was thrilled crossing the threshold of mi casa and seeing my little Anabel run towards me, yelling “Hola, Clarita!!!” This made an exhausted gringita feel like she was really home.

Primer Día

2005-08-30T16:45:00.000-04:00

My four first days with my family have been nothing short of amazing! My parents, Don Zenobio and Doña Victoria are about 50 years old and very cute. They have 3 daughters, but only Theresa lives at home; Along with her husband, Wilhe, she has an adorable four-year-old hijita named Anabel. Another one of the daughters travels a lot thus her 2 daughters Romina and Liz also live here. Anabel took to calling me Clarita, and now everyone calls me that. Even walking down the main road the other day Anabel saw me from afar and was yelling Clarita… she was waiting for the trufi (fixed route taxi) to take her home from school… my first proud moment as feeling a part of the community. In general, my family is very calm. The first day with them, they asked me questions and I gladly answered. Theresa, who is 26, showed me their property, their hens, guinea pigs, and two adorable puppies! Don Zenobio is a farmer and grows potatoes, onions, alfalfa, and gladiolas. Sunday we spent most of the day outside planting onions- I really wanted to get my hands dirty, but as a guest, they only let me sit in the shade and play with the kids. I have felt nothing but welcome in this home, however they don’t even let me lift a finger. La comida has been wonderful; hot chocolate/coffee and bread and butter for breakfast, soup with pasta and meat for lunch, and meat with rice, vegetables, platanos and bread for dinner. I have been eating bananas in mass quantities, for those of you who know me it is a good thing that I like them again. Among the delicacies eaten thus far have been guinea pig (which for the most part tastes exactly like chicken), cinnamon water, and about 5 different kinds of potatoes!
My room is very cute and it is nice to finally have a place settle into! My window gives right onto the front of the house alongside a little brook; Bella Vista, the name of my little campo is in the nook of the Cordillera Real Mountains. Thermal baths and a natural spring are but 30 minutes away, so water is in abundance! I also have electricity, a flush toilet, and a warm shower, so my conditions are ideal. The casa gives onto a little courtyard, and the backyard gives into the fields of gladiolas and potatoes. Perhaps the most frustrating thing for now, but undoubtedly a blessing in disguise is the fact that I am the farthest trainee out from the city. My neighbor Jonathan is about 3 minutes away, but then the next closest PCT is a good 20-minute walk. Thus far it has forced me really to converse with my family and not take the easy way out! Walking to language classes at Jonathan’s house, I pass a beautiful Catholic Church, a “Los Angeles” clinic, about 3 telephone booths, and 2 tiendas. For the most part, it seems that my family is rather quiet- while they did drink a LOT of chicha (maize beer) while planting the potatoes, I think that it is an activity reserved for weekends and larger gatherings.
Today we went to the cancha, which is the huge open-air market in Coch. This is unlike any market I have ever seen; it is well divided into sections and the small alleys make it a prime area to a.) get lost, b.) get pick pocketed, and c.) experience your eyes glazing over from the multitude of items; this includes, but is not limited to: Pantene Pro-V (which costs about 5 times that of a Bolivian brand), llama fetuses (considered a good luck charm if hung outside the home), beautiful artisan-made ponchos/bags, and any kind of chocolate (except for dark)! Along with my closest neighbors, we made it back to Bella Vista by 3 trufis, and after the first day of riding in public transportation I think that I have it mastered. Once home, I watched part of a novella with the whole family while eating pound cake and drinking café con leche…. Mmm!

En Cochabamba

2005-08-27T16:48:00.000-04:00

Greetings from Cochabamba (or Coch as the locals call it)… I arrived safely on Wednesday morning. First sights at the airport included 13,000+ mountain peaks, several indigenous women selling candies and baked goods, and a beautiful landscape view with predominately low adobe buildings. Beautiful, colorful steeples protruded from the skyline, and despite the long flight and anxiety of arriving, I was truly thrilled to finally have set foot in Bolivia!
Later this afternoon we arrive at our host family’s homes in the village of Marquina, about 45 minutes outside Cochabamba. All 20 Peace Corps Trainees will be here, dispersed over about 30 km for the next 11 weeks. Monday we begin language, technical, and cultural training- most of it taking place in Marquina. So far, most of our time has been spent with the other volunteers and staff. The majority of them are from Texas and California, with only a couple representatives from the east coast! In between safety, culture, and medical check-ups, we have gotten to know each other quite well. There are about 130 volunteers already in Bolivia, and those who were around this week didn’t waste a minute to take us out and show us a good time. Among the highlights were dancing at a bar to 80’s classic music videos, and attending the local hot spot, El Pimiente Verde.
The weather here has been amazing; winter is winding down, and everyone we meet keeps saying that the conditions in this city are ideal. This morning I went for a run with three others; it was a good way to see Coch before it comes alive. Many merchants were opening up their tiendas- hanging signs with ice cream, Coke, and other commercial goods. It has been too easy to look weeks and months ahead and wonder how it was possible to immerse yourself into such a place- where no matter what you do, you will always be that gringita- but when it comes down to it, I have realized that making through the day by accomplishing at least one thing in a new environment is all that I can ask for.
So I am taking it a day at a time and relishing in the fact that this afternoon I will see a completely new side of family life- perhaps if I am lucky, my host mother will even teach me how to cook!

The Beginning

2005-08-18T16:43:00.001-04:00

so here it goes...the beginning of my adventures in Bolivia! Hopefully you will all be able to read about my travels and experiences as a community tourism/ micro-enterprise volunteer with the Peace Corps.

I will be in training in the city of Cochabamba for 11 weeks beginning August 24, 2005. Cochabamba is at an altitude of approx. 7,500 feet and has approx. 500,000 inhabitants. Here is a link with some wonderful pictures of the city: http://tunari.tripod.com/id18.html

Please feel free to share this site with family and friends as you see appropriate. I would love feedback and comments either on the site or to my email address: cgbosch@gmail.com

That being said, i am still unsure about how often i will have access to email, but no matter how infrequent, hearing from you would undoubtedly make my day!

à bientôt!

Roosters and Computers

2005-01-19T18:00:00.000-04:00

Today i woke up to a rooster in my courtyard… announcing the day. Were this to be only a morning occurrence I would welcome it and consider its announcement… but this rooster crows every 20 minutes of every day. I therefore contemplated turning over and sleeping the morning away…until I realized that I had a computer class to teach at 8 a.m. I savored my cup of coffee and banana, stood to watch the activity below me at the hospital and soccer field, and made my way to the library. It’s the last day for the morning class, finishing up 4 weeks of class learning the basics of Microsoft Windows, Word, and Excel. They are finishing their end of term “projects” and I run into Richard and Emanuel on the way, asking them whether they have their poem or story written out to type. They anxiously pull it out of their pockets, proud of what they had authored. During class a couple of younger kids come in, wanting to play with the puzzles and trucks in the library… over the past month these classes are a gathering place for those enrolled and otherwise, playing, laughing, and making a mess of the books I try to neatly order every night. There are always a couple of kids who want to check books out, so they sign the log and as usual, bring them back two days later.
The computer classes are comprised of 24 students, children and adults alike, some professors and some kids vacationing here from Santa Cruz city. This week many of them are in the campo (countryside) planting potatoes and cultivating onions, so they’ll have to come after the course is over… of course now that I have started teaching, there are 24 more that would like to enroll. I never thought of teaching computer classes, and I have had my share of frustrating days when I cannot seem to articulate well or when the students don’t remember to they have to double click, sitting there waiting for something to miraculously open. But those moments fade away during days like today where they came in, sat down, and barely asked me one question as they typed their final projects. They inserted images of hearts, stars, flashy borders, and pictures of Pucará. And now, sitting at the computer and printing out their projects I see the effort put into these classes. The poems are about their pueblo, the surrounding sites and the views overlooking the valley; there are stories about love, about the rich and the poor.
I found this first teaching task rather daunting, never remembering myself how I was taught to use a computer. But slowly I stepped away and let them figure it out- if I figured it out some years ago, surely they don’t need me to hang over their shoulders. Parents come in during class and observe, making sure their child came to class and surely a little curious themselves as to what this art of computing is all about.
The other day Delfa came to me wanting me to type something for her. She is enrolled in the class, but since this was an important document she wanted to make sure it was done correctly… even though her Spanish is incomparable to mine. I agreed to do it and we met at the library. She wanted to pay me for the 15 minutes it took to type a paragraph, but I would have none of it- instead accepting payment in the form of some succulent plums she has growing in her backyard.
Rain is looming over the mountains and the breeze is picking up. I am just waiting for it to start pouring down, secretly praying it will hold out until the next class is over, as my laundry is still out on the line. The rain here is enchanting and miserable at the same time. After a couple dry days I look at thunder clouds and think to myself that I wouldn’t mind spending the afternoon curled up with a cup of tea and Cannery Row. But after 2 days of deluge- which turn the streets of Pucará (and then your house) into a mud pit- I begin to grow crazy with each continuing hour. Of course it does, and as long as you keep those sunny, hot days in mind (and a pile of literature handy), it passes. Like everything, it passes. And so, the computer classes come to an end. We learned how to use lists, bullets, and numeration the other day, and as the night class let out, I trudged up the street saying goodbye to Marbin and Hayler… Marbin turns around and says, “Nos vemos viñeta (bullet), chao numeración”, and then doubles over laughing. Secretly I hope that they remember where they first learned to use a computer, even if I am only used in reference as a bullet point on their long list of achievements.