Easter in Pucará

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

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

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!