The World Bank

Banco Mundial=World Bank in Spanish

Went to the World Bank today.  THAT was a pretty highly-charged activity, after all the readings and lectures I’ve had about the evils of the World Bank.  Here’s a quick summary, straight from my notes from Dignity and Defiance:

-created after WWII to finance infrastructure projects in countries hurt by the war

-along with the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank’s goal was to prevent a depression like the one before WWII

-the World Bank made privatization of natural resources a requirement for Bolivia to get funding (from what I can tell, this was in the 1990s)

            -Bolivia NEEDS World Bank assistance to function

-Privatization means that instead of the state providing water to the people, paid for by taxes, a company provides water to those who can pay for it

-Instead of funds from natural resources going to the government, they instead go to a private company, which may or may not give a fair share to the government

-In the late 90s, to comply with World Bank demands, Cochabamba (where I live) sold its public water company to Betchel (a US owned company).  Betchel hiked people’s water bills by 50% (though it claimed the increase was only 35%).  The contract gave Betchel the right to ground water, rain water, city water…if you couldn’t afford the rates you would have NO water.  (This brought on the Water Revolt in 2001, where Cochabamba kicked out Betchel and water was returned to public control.)

So at the World Bank, they told us about Bank history, admitting that they were wrong in the 70s and 80s but claiming they were actually helpful today.  They told us that forced privatization in the 70s was bad, but that now privatization is not a prerequisite for aid.  Our speakers emphasized that the Bolivian government decides on projects and the Bank just provides funding.  They said that there are no more prerequisites except being a World Bank member.  They painted a pretty picture but it’s hard to buy it after all the bad things the World Bank has done.  So I’m reserving judgement…

Then we talked to a feminist group called “Mujeres Creando.”  They were such a totally awesome group of strong women!  They said that behind every happy woman is an abandoned “machisto,” or chauvinist.  They denounced the idea of complimentary-ism, which is a big part of the culture here.  (Example: Women can carry the kids and men can make the decisions—they each have different roles that complement each other.  But these women are not down with that!)  They also talked about how the only way to be a woman in Bolivia is by being a mother.  They think those roles should be separated, because woman without kids is still just as much of a woman.

Trip to El Alto

Today, I traveled from La Paz to El Alto.  El Alto is technically its own city, but in a lot of ways it’s a barrio/burrow of La Paz.  La Paz is in a sort of valley, and El Alto is on the hillside (which is why its name means “the high”).  La Paz got its name when fighting broke out between the Spanish king’s people and the (Spanish) people already living in Bolivia.  The Spanish king told them they needed to make peace with each other or the indigenous people would overthrow them, so La Paz (“the Peace”) was created.  (It was an indigenous city before that, I believe, but I don’t remember the name it had then.)

I also had some mango for breakfast.  Can’t forget that!

So in El Alto, we visited UPEA (Universidad Público de El Alto/Public University of El Alto).  We talked to a bunch of human rights majors in their first year (of five) at university.  UPEA is only 12 years old, and the citizens of El Alto fought to get their own university.  I talked to two boys named Gustavo and Mario.  They were pretty cool.  I asked about differences between men and women in Bolivia, and they told me that now women have the same opportunities as men, and could go to university.  (I definitely don’t think men and women are equal here, or most places in the world, but it was interesting to hear their take on the issue.  I think women probably do have most of the same opportunities, there are just other structural issues that prevent them from seizing them.  Example:  Women can go to college just like men, but if women are more likely to drop out of primary/middle school to work, equal opportunities to go to college won’t do them any good.)

Next we went to Teatro Trono, an after school arts place for kids.  It was formerly a group of boys from an orphanage who performed in the street to survive, but now it’s an afterschool arts program for kids ages 7 to early 20s.  The kids there can chose classes to take, and write all their own skits to perform.  The whole building (it’s 7 floors) is made with recycled materials, so the windows all don’t match and the doors to the bathrooms are old bus doors.

There are 2 single-stall bathrooms on each floor, and since the women’s one was taken, I decided to use the men’s.  (There are 22 women and 2 men on my abroad program, so it’s a valid decision.)  This little girl who was hanging around told me “That’s the men’s room!”  Our presentation had already started upstairs and I didn’t want to miss it, so I asked, “If I go in the men’s room, can you not tell anyone?”  And she smiled and said okay.  Afterwards she told me her name was Alison and that she learns ballet and theater here.  I forgot to ask how old she was, but I’d guess around 8.  A new friend!

Also, there was an imitation mine under the building, so we walked around down there.

On the way home, we stopped at a park overlooking La Paz.  The view was gorgeous, but the houses there were a really stark contrast to the view.  It was some serious juxtaposition.  I’ll look for a good photo.

You might want to click to see this bigger

We learned about El Alto from our guide.  El Alto doesn’t have any 2nd degree hospitals, which from what I understand means that the hospitals here only deal with emergencies.  For anything else, people have to drive to La Paz.  Twenty-five percent of the people here don’t have electricity and 80% of the people living here are Aymara (an indigenous group).  Evo (the Bolivian president) promised to improve the services in El Alto, but the people are waiting for him to fulfill that promise.

For dinner in La Paz, I tried to find Thai food with some friends (tried REALLY HARD.  It was well hidden.)  Then we gave up and went to a Moroccan place.  We shared some couscous with veggies and chickpeas. Then we started talking to three Israelis on the other side of the room.  We ended up chatting for 2 hours (they spoke English).  They had just finished their military service and were traveling throughout Latin America.  I learned a few words of Israeli but I forgot them all. :)

Ministers and Artists

I woke up feeling much better, and I got free b-fast at the hotel—pancakes, French toast, regular toast, and fruit.  And of course coffee!  COFFEE.  Then we walked to a conference.  On the way I saw a lot of protesters in the streets and scary cops with their riot gear.  Nothing was happening, but a little ominous.  There have been a lot of protests/marches of disabled people because they want government to compensate them since they can’t work.  I believe they are asking for 1000 Bs, or about US$4000.  But also the city of La Paz is really hilly, and the sidewalks have steps.  Not very handicapped accessible.

The conference was by Fernando Huanacuni, who is a minister in the Evo Morales government.  F.H. is Aymara (an indigenous group in Bolivia) and the main thing he talked about was “living well” vs. “living better.”  The Andean culture (including Aymara) emphasizes community and living well, while Western cultures emphasize always trying to live better and get more material possessions/money.  TOTALLY relevant in so many ways.

Next we went to the workshop of Mamani Mamani.  He’s an artist, and happens to be one of my host mom’s favorite artists.  He told us that his mom and grandma inspired his paintings.  In his paintings, the women always have large hands to show that they work harder than the men.  His mountains always have many colors to show their energy.  His paintings and sculptures all connected to important parts of Bolivian culture, like the coca leaf (chewed as a mild stimulant like coffee) or the potato.

Then I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch, went shopping in the (VERY tourist-y) market, and ate pizza for dinner.  (Fun fact: the bathrooms at the pizza place said “Varones” (men) and “Checkers.”  Weird.)

Tiwanaku

Check it out!  Figured out how to change the date published!  Now it looks like I've been on top of blogging and you all can feel lame for not reading all my posts.  Mwahahaha.

So on Sunday I left for La Paz, the capital of Bolivia.  The flight was at 6:45, which was still too early for me even though Bolivia doesn't have the arrive-2-hours-early rule.  (I got to the airport at 5:15, in a taxi.  Poor driver.)  I INSTANTLY fell asleep on the plane, and woke up to eat the little cake they gave me, and then fell asleep again.  (The flight was 30 minutes long.)

So we landed and hopped on the bus, and drove around for a while.  Then we stopped in a little town, where there just happened to be a cute little parade (maybe our program directors knew, I don't know.)

Check out the layered skirts!

There was also a stone church but it’s not interesting enough to be worth loading a photo.  Use your imaginations!

Then we drove to Tiwanaku!  Tiwanaku is an ancient city, whose people lived from 2000 BC to 1200 AD.  They were really advanced and even though they didn’t conquer any groups, everyone copied their way of life.  They also lived in the altiplano, aka high plains, of Bolivia.  (So think COLD.  And then think about farming in the cold.)  They grew potatoes, and the potato is their legacy today.  They also had a cool irrigation system made out of stone.  One thing that totally struck me was how empty and middle-of-nowhere these ruins were.  Usually stuff like this draws tons of tourists, but we didn’t see very many others.  (Also the Incas were around for WAY less time than the people of Tiwanaku, but which group is in all the history books?  Something interesting to chew on…)

Our guide told us that the city of Tiwanaku was not residential; it was only a religious city.  All the buildings are exactly aligned to the compass, with the east entrance being only for the sun and a few very important people.  Everyone else entered through side doors.  There was a big wall with 11 giant pillars, each representing a month of the year, with the middle one being used twice because of the equinox.

Here’s me with a statue!  These statues were too big/hard/inconvenient for the Spaniards to break, so they just broke their noses off to make them look ugly.

And here we have la Puerta del Sol (door of the sun).  The little dude at the top represents the sun.  He has rays going out from his head in all directions, since the sun shines everywhere equally.  He’s standing on a 3-tiered platform, which represents the Earth.  Inside the platform is the moon, since the moon is hidden when the sun is out.  Along the bottom of the top part, there are 11 little figures to represent each month (sharing the middle month again).

Tiwanaku is at 12,000ish feet above sea level, so while absorbing all this cool info I was also feeling a little woozy.  But se la vie, eh?  So when we got to the hotel in La Paz, I crashed.  I went right to bed at 7 or 8pm, without dinner or anything. 

P.S. Almost forgot--we stopped at an overlook on our way to the hotel.  Here’s La Paz—pretty stunning, eh?  I have panorama pictures but I can't put them in row on my blog as far as I know.

Check out the mountains in the background!

 More to come....

Trip Tomorrow!

I leave tomorrow at 5am to go to La Paz, Bolivia's capital.  I'll also be visiting El Alto and a rural village nearby.  I won't be blogging for at least 8 days, but get ready for some cool stories when I return!

The Heavy Stuff

Bolivia's been totally a great experience, but life is tough here.  My US family would be millionaires in Bolivia, and my host family is in the minority in that they have plenty of of food, a house, and a car.  There are lots of people begging on the streets, like in all cities.  I'm ashamed to admit I only stop when I have change already out.  I guess it's an effort to rummage through my bag?  It's too much of a hassle to look through my stuff, even if it means helping someone?  It's probably a hassle for them to not have food or water or a place to live.  So I'm making a resolution, right here on the internet for the world to see, to always help these people and not take for granted what I have.  Even if I give someone 1 peso every day, 1 x 9 remaining weeks= 9 pesos a week= 63 pesos total.  That's 9 US dollars.  It won't pull them out of poverty, but that'll take structural changes, and I'm already thinking on that.

So here's what motivated my new resolution.  Today in Spanish, we had an assignment to go out into the city and talk to workers in the informal market (aka self employed vendors in the streets).  My friend Sophie and I talked to a woman selling gum, cookies, little packaged things.  I bought a peanut bar (which was good, but that wasn't the point).  Reciprocity is really important here, so it's important to not just interrogate someone and then walk away.  So we talked to this woman, probably in her 50s or 60s.  She comes everyday to the street from 7am to 10pm (a 15-hour day).  She's been working on the street since her husband abandoned her, 38 years.  She had to start working to feed her kids.  They are now in college.  She doesn't live too far, but after she pays for the taxi she had only 1-10 Bolivianos every day to buy food.  ONE TO TEN.  That's 14 cents to $1.30.  Bolivia is cheap, but know what I bought for one Boliviano?  A peanut bar.  Eight Bolivianos for two empanadas (bread with cheese inside) the size of my fist.  That. is. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.  So I've decided that this woman and I will be "caseras."  A casera (or caserita, which is more loving) is a relationship between a buyer and vendor--when the buyer always come to the same vendor.  (From what I understand, it's only street vendors.)  The vendor is your caserita, and you are her caserita.  I'm going to buy something from that woman every day that I'm here.  It's one thing to hear about people living on under $1 a day, but it's something totally different to talk to them and have them share a little bit of themselves with you.  My friend Sophie asked before we left if the woman liked being a vendor.  She told us, "I had to acclimate to feed my children."

Goodbye, Oruro

Sunday, February 19, 2012

I woke up at 4:45 to go to Alba.  Alba is kind of like a battle of the bands at the church where the parade ends.  The group walked to the Plaza del Socavón, and I honestly remember very little of the walk since I was practically sleepwalking. 

We walked around in the church, which was beautiful.  It had the entrance to a mine (gated off though, and we didn’t go down).  I also saw a cat in the church!

Our group went out into the plaza, and weaved our way really close to the band.  We had lost one of the boys, Diego, but our program leader wasn’t too concerned.  There normally are a lot of bands all playing at once, but this year only one came.  But the energy was great!  People were singing along and lots of (drunk) men started talking to us.  One gave some mystery milk-colored alcohol to James.  He was by far the most popular with the locals.  Then the band marched from the plaza to this arena-type place and stood on some bleachers playing.  All the people followed them, and there was a lot of jostling.  Luckily no one else got separated though.

The band is in white on the right

We walked back to the hotel and I bought some snacks for the ride home.  On the way home, Sophie, James and I met a drunk man who told us how happy he was we came to see his city, and asked how we liked the carnival, and then kissed our hands.

Sophie and I went out for more snacks, and met a unicycler from Paraguay who travels around performing with his “little brother” from Uruguay (I don’t think they were really related.)  And then Diego turned up!  He had climbed the back of the stands and stood right behind the band.  (Diego is the type of person who always has fun adventures.)  We also befriended some German backpackers.

On our way out of Oruro, we stopped at Cardozo Velasquez Museum.  (It’s the artist’s house and a museum.)  There were lots of cool sculptures and paintings.  Then I played with a baby!! 

El Carnaval de Oruro

Saturday, February 18, 2012

When I woke up today at 7:30, the parade was just starting.  It started with some sort of religious people marching in a line.  Not many people were watching in the stands.  After breakfast, the parade was in full swing, with dancers, crazy costumes, marching bands, and espuma.

There were lots of devils (and I mean really elaborate devils) and women with creepy lady masks, and people dressed as big furry bears.  Some of the dancers would come over to the stands and get the people riled up, or would come take a picture with someone in the front row.  Some of the bands or dancers would zig-zag a bit and come right at us, which was totally more exciting than just marching by.  The parade had a lot of stopping and gaps, and was pretty low key about looking perfect.  (I saw one marcher go up to a spectator and take a sip of his beer.)  One time when they were stopped, all the cymbal players in a marching band put down their cymbals and started break dancing in unison!  The march takes 3 hours to complete and is almost 8 miles long, so there were people walking around with jugs of water and straws for the performers.  My favorite part was all the little kids in the parade!  They were totally adorable!  One group of four 4-year-old girls came by and they were each drinking juice out of a little bag!  A lot of the marchers had whistles they blew in time to the music, so it was loud and totally energizing!  There are 40-50 different groups, and each group can have anywhere from 30 to 300 people.

Here’s where the pictures will go if I can get them to load.

Some "slaves" had their faces painted black

Little girls drinking juice from bags

Diablos (devils)

One of MANY MANY bands

Check out the jingly boots!

Furry bear-things

this band played during gaps in the parade

break-dancing cymbal players

After 3.5 hours of watching, we took a break for lunch.  My friend Allyson was feeling crummy, and our program leader’s wife, Lupe, healed her.  Lupe really is such a cool person.  She noticed Allyson wasn’t eating and asked if she was okay.  Then Lupe spent 20 minutes sucking the bad energy out of Allyson’s stomach, and she felt better after!

Then I took a 3.5 hour nap.  It was fabulous.  I was soooo exhausted.  Allyson and I watched for another hour (yes, the parade was STILL going on at 5:30 at night.)  At this point, there were a lot more gaps, and they were bigger, so a group of Brazilian musicians would come out and play some music, and little kids would run into the parade street and start having giant water gun/espuma battles.  By the time I went to bed (around 1am) the parade was still blaring with no signs of stopping.  We could hear it loud and clear from the hotel room, but sleeping still was no problem.

Drive to Oruro

Friday, February 17, 2012

Today, we had class from 9-12:30 about the Carnival in Oruro.  It originally was a four-day party right before Lent, as a compromise since a lot of people weren’t excited for 40 days of no meat, no dancing, no drinking, etc.  So the rules of Carnival are to be totally ridiculous and break all the regular rules of life.  (Like the rules against throwing water balloons at strangers.)

At 2:15, we met and left for Oruro on a big ol’ bus.  The road was beautiful but really windy.

We stopped for a “bathroom break” on a hillside.  It had a great view!  The ride took about five hours in total, and when we finished we had gone from 8000 ft above sea level to 14,000.

I went out with some friends to look for dinner, and we walked around the parade’s path (which was full of vendors tonight.)  It was really crowded!  We got sprayed with a lot of espuma, or a kind of silly string/shaving cream hybrid.  Luckily it dissolves after a few minutes.  It really wasn’t annoying except when I got it right in the face (twice).  But I did get some soup (minus the meat and the broth, so it was really just a bowl of noodles and a potato) and five rolls.  Yum!

We made our way to the Plaza Principal, which was about five blocks, but took longer since it was crowded.  There was a huge band playing and it was PACKED.  Back at the hotel, I could still see the parade path out the window and the street was quite noisy, but I luckily had no trouble sleeping.  (It’s one of my best skills.)

Out the hotel window-tomorrow the parade will go by here

Día de Comadres

Thursday, February 16

Today, we had a field trip to Colectivo Katari.  They are a group who pay tribute to and educate others about the indigenous groups of Bolivia.  The presentation was in a straw longhouse-type building.  There was also a kitty!  

This kitten was so snuggly!!

The presentation included some history, some music, and a video.  The music was really cool and the lyrics were all about the plight of indigenous people.  One of the songs went something like “I’m the owner of everything, but I always have nothing” (but in Spanish).  The video was about street and park names in Cochabamba.  A lot of plazas and streets are named for conquistadors or people who were cruel to the indigenous people.  Kinda sad, yah?

After the field trip, it was 5-ish so we got ready to go out for Día de Comadres!  Comadres is a holiday to celebrate godmothers, from what I understand, but it actually just entails ladies going out with their lady friends and partying a lot.  So to prepare for this big night, we ate some bread we bought on the street!  My house was a taxi ride away, so I stashed my stuff at my friend Sophie’s house and went to the party in my clothes from class (rain boots!).  Two of the girls had (Bolivian host) sisters who came out with us too.  We went to a café-type place and danced!  Getting a taxi back home was a challenge since the streets were so packed—finding one was hard enough, and then there was the traffic.  We crammed 10 people into a mini-van taxi!  No picture could capture that.

Attempting to get everyone in the photo

My "buddy" Ali and me

Alberto's Country House

Sunday, February 12

Today, my family told me we were going swimming at their friend Alberto's.  Alberto has a really cool country house with a pool.  We spent some time swimming, and then went inside for some bread and soda.  Alberto's house has a hammock that hung from the rafters!  My host sibs wrapped themselves up like caterpillars, which I sadly couldn't express in Spanish.

Alberto also has a workshop at his house.  He collects old antique-y things and fixes them up and makes them cool again.  He also carves masks....the wooden kind you would buy as a souvenir on some island.  They were so gorgeous and looked professionally done.  Alberto tried to tell me they weren't very complicated to make, but I didn't believe him.  His family doesn't like the country, so he comes here alone.  He told us to come by whenever we want.  Alberto is one cool dude.

Bolivian Truths

-Sometimes flossing is too much effort

-I usually swallow my toothpaste

-Once I used the sink water to rinse my toothbrush.  I lived.

-Skirts never get dirty

-Street dogs are not your friends

-Smile and nod

-Baby shampoo doesn’t actually clean hair

-Don’t hail a taxi from the street, always call one from your phone

-Street dogs still aren’t your friends

-It’s totally okay to call someone a gordito (fatty/fatso)

-1/2 hot water, 1/2 cold water makes tea drinkable right away

-Waving your hands around makes people understand you better (*sarcasm alert*)

-Don't ask for a photo unless you want to pay for it

-Sometimes the taxi you call doesn't come, even after a hour of waiting and two follow-up calls

-It's hard to write correctly in English after so much Spanish

Bolivian Kickboxing

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Today, the only thing exciting I did was wake up at 7am to go to an exercise class with my friend Ayoola (rhymes with Crayola).  First we met at school and walked around to try to find a yoga place my mamá told me about.  When we finally found it, it was closed, so we went to “Power Gym” instead.  The flyer we saw previously said it cost 80 bolivianos, which is pretty expensive (about US$12).  But once we got there, it only cost 6 bolivianos (under US$1).  We had a few minutes to kill, so we lifted weights and did abs/pilates.  Then our class started!!  (At 10:15, because Bolivian time is always more relaxed.)

First, we did some step exercises, which was more of a mental workout than a physical one.  It was hard to get all the steps right and I felt like I totally stuck out as the only gringa.  (Stereotype threat—I was worried I’d confirm the stereotype that white people can’t dance).  But then we switched to kickboxing, which was totally a physical workout so I didn’t have time to think about how I looked.  And it was super fun!  I could totally take someone down!  (if it was to music)  The language barrier was pretty nonexistent, since the music was too loud to hear anyways.  The instructor just did the moves and we copied her.  The whole time I kept thinking “HOLY MOLY I’M KICKBOXING IN BOLIVIA.”  I’ve never been to a kickboxing or a step class in the US, so I can’t compare, but this was totally fun!

Tarata

Written Thursday, February 9, 2012

Today we went to Tarata.  It was about a 40 minute drive from Cochabamba and the ride was gorgeous!  First we went to Frutté, a tea-making place where they harvest fruit, dry it, package it, and ship it.  They dry the tea using either the sun or their big oven named Santiago.  They have all kinds of fruit tea and “mate” (herbal tea).  Tea is really big here, not just when it’s cold outside.  All of the teas have special powers, like curing colds.

I think these are dried beets

Next we had the rural drop-off.  My friend Kate (aka Hojita) and I were partnered together and had to find a peach processing plant (Planta de Transformación de Duraznos) in Villa Mercedes.  We were abandoned in the city/town of Tarata (Okay, technically it’s a town (pueblo) but I think it looks like a city since no one has a yard.  Well, some of them do but they all have fences.  I promise it really does look like a city.  See, look at the picture!)

So anyway, Hojita and I asked a guy in his car where we could find the peach plant, and he replied with something neither of us could understand.  “QUE?” …nope, still incomprehensible to the gringas.  We finally understood “far” and asked if we needed a taxi.  He said yes so we went on our merry way, stopping to buy some bread with cheese inside for about 30 cents.  (By the way, bread + cheese might sound like a pretty average combo, but the Bolivians make it DIVINE.)

So we got in a taxi and drove into the campo (I’m talking SERIOUSLY rural, none of this pueblo-that-looks-like-a-city-business).  We chatted with our driver Daniel about Tarata, and he said a lot of people from the campo come to work in Tarata.  He said most of them come in taxis.  We tried to ask about the population of Tarata, but either he didn’t understand or he didn’t know.  I guess I wouldn’t know the population of my town either, except I was curious and looked it up on the internet.

Here's where the taxi dropped us off

About 20 minutes later, we got off in the middle of nowhere (aka Villa Mercedes—the driver didn’t know where the PPP [peach processing plant] was so he just took us to VM).  It was around noon at this point, so everyone was eating lunch and the streets were deserted (though it was really rural so maybe it always is deserted.)  Hojita and I walked down a dirt road for a while…quite a while…until we came across an older lady milking a cow.  She clearly was busy but we awkwardly approached her anyway since we didn’t know if we’d find any other people.

Turns out we came across the nicest lady in Villa Mercedes.  We told her the cows were cute, and tried to ask about the PPP.  She responded but neither of us had any idea what she was saying.  She didn’t seem to mind, and kept telling us stuff, and asked if we wanted some milk from her cow.  We politely declined, but she took some water from an old soda bottle, rinsed a tin cup, and poured us some fresh milk from her cow.  I actually thought it was pretty good, though drinking warm milk is pretty weird.  There were a bunch of peach trees where we were, so we asked about the peaches and if our friend cared for them alone.  Couldn’t understand her answer, but she walked up to the trees and picked us each four peaches!  I told her we had some bread and asked if she wanted to share, but she brushed aside the offer.  We said goodbye (a handshake instead of a kiss on the cheek) and walked back down the road.

It was almost 1pm, and we had to be back in Tarata by 1:30, so we went to the main road again.  There was a church pretty close so we decided to go check it out, but sadly it was closed.  So we called Daniel, our taxi-driving friend.  We were sitting on a bench eating bread, when a man came walking by.  He said a friendly hello and asked if we were from Canada (we saw a couple in a car who asked if we were German—I wondered if asking if someone is from the US could be offensive?).  His name was Carlos and he told us a lot of people from Villa Mercedes go to Arlington, Virginia (vair-HEEN-ee-aa) to work construction.  He said there were 80 families in Villa Mercedes.  He was on his way to a meeting in the central plaza (which we were on the edge of).  I didn’t quite catch what the meeting was about but it had something to do with water.  He invited us to come with him, so we went to the center of the plaza and met the townspeople who were gathering—four women and two men (including Carlos).  The women wore sweaters, traditional knee-length skirts, and straw hats.  We talked a little about Arlington, and one of the women told me her children worked there.  I wanted to ask them about how gender worked in the village, since the women seemed to be invited to the meeting as well as the men, but sadly Daniel had arrived. 

We returned to Tarata and went to the Plaza Principal.  Turns out it was Día de los Copadres, so lots of people came streaming out of the church holding bloody Jesus statues.  A brass band started playing as the procession circled the plaza, stopping at each corner for some sort of ceremony conducted by some sort of religious man.

Lunch was at a restaurant next to a big dam.  There specialty was fish, but I got soy meat instead (They have that in Bolivia!  The one time I tried to buy it with my host mom, it was mad expensive, but I heard it’s usually cheaper than animal meat!)  The restaurant also had a big slide!  A bunch of us went down and it was TOTALLY fun.  (It was mad fast so I screamed a little.)  There were peddleboats and ziplines, but we didn’t have time for them.  But the bathrooms were like a whole bunch of caves.  You had to explore to find an open stall. 

So then I came home on the turismo bus, took el micro (pronounced MEE-CRO) and arrived at my casa (house).  I watched Disney channel with my host sister (High School Musical 3 was on!!)

1 Week Anniversary

Written Wednesday, February 5

Wednesday February 8, 2012--Una Semana!

Today was my third day of school and my one-week anniversary of coming to Bolivia.  I go to la “U” (university) at 9, come home at 12:30 for lunch, and go back to la “U” from 3:00 to 6:30.  It seems like that leaves me a lot of time for lunch, but it takes about 35-40 minutes by micro (bus) to get from home to school, so I end up having about an hour for lunching.  Today, we ate yellow rice, little purple potatoes, lentils, fried banana, and salad from my family’s garden with guacamole.  That lunch was a little bigger than the norm, but lunches here are always a lot.  The whole time I’ve been here, my mamá makes juice in the blender with fresh fruit, and then strains it into a pitcher.  It’s fun to try all these different fruits—Bolivia has such a variety (I think because of the variety of climates and altitudes).

So for my morning class, I had my globalization seminar with our guest speaker Rafael Puente.  Yesterday and today we learned about Bolivian history (in Spanish—it was hard!)  It has definitely helped to have some background about Bolivia, like knowing that they lost access to the ocean in the war with Chile.  A lot of my life in Spanish is about knowing the general topic of conversation and then guessing what the person is saying.  I know my Spanish will improve, but for now it’s just pretty tiring.  (Not in a bad way, just that it literally tires me out.)  Just listening is a lot of work, not to mention talking.  My family and professors are really great, and help me with my Spanish a lot.  (Spanish class is in the afternoon, and all the profesoras are super-cool and fun.)

Today we went to an organization of Household Workers as a Spanish class field trip.  It was really interesting to learn a bit about their lives.  One former household worker is now the Minister of Justice in Bolivia.  There are a lot of problems with domestic workers because they usually come to the cities from the country, so they are often maltreated and don’t know their rights.  One of the women we met said that she worked without pay or vacations, working from 5am until midnight (until she joined the organization). 

I have lots of cool conversations with my Bolivian family. They really are the best.  The family members usually get off school/work for lunch at different times, so someone is usually missing.  But at dinner everyone sits and has tea, French fries (homemade), or leftover lunch. My brother Bruno is 21, and we today talked about our mutual love of books (especially Harry Potter.)  I asked if he knew the Hunger Games, but he didn’t.  He’s studying to be a civil engineer and is really smart.  We talk about politics and sociology and lots of interesting stuff (some of which I didn’t understand, but he’s pretty good at explaining things and using small words).  We talked about the troubles with poverty in Bolivia and the USA.  Bruno told me that people here usually don’t die from hunger; they die from malnutrition.  In the country, the campesinos (farmers) produce only a few crops (to eat, not to sell), so they don’t get certain nutrients.  These people don’t use money, so it’s not worth it for anyone to come sell them other foods.  I told him that in the USA poor people also have worse nutrition, because the cheapest foods are processed.  We talked about Evo Morales, the first indigenous president of Bolivia.  It’s pretty cool how many parallels there are between Evo and Obama—they both are from marginalized racial/ethnic groups and both represent hope for many people.

After dinner, I played pick-up sticks with my 3 siblings and my papá.  Then I taught them how to play Go Fish (A Pescar).

And here are the pictures I've been promising.

Here's my family's neighboorhood.

This restaurant lets me know it's almost time to get off the micro (bus).

Cochabamba

Hanging with the Familia

Today, I woke up around 8 and ate a breakfast of tea and bread with jelly.  (Also some cake from last night.)  My host parents asked if I wanted to go to the market with them, so I of course agreed!  They said it’s better to go to the cancha (market) on Sundays since it’s less crowded.  We took the blue jeep there, and then walked around this huge market with lots of fruits and veggies and meat.  We bought fruits and veggies (whose names I’m trying to learn, but it’s hard because there are so many!)  They had starfruit and my parents bought some to make into juice.  Yummers!  Then we went to the Hiper (short for Hipermarket, aka supermarket) to buy tp and napkins and noodles.  I told my host mom about Costco and how Matt and I used to build houses on the flatbed carts out of the stuff we were buying.

Then we came home, and I played Tetris with my host sister Andrea and played music (and sang along, obvi.)  For lunch we had lasagna and omelette (yup, I know that’s not vegan.)  My host mom got it from a Martha Stewart cookbook and we talked about how she went to jail.  Then I had a water balloon fight with Andrea and Andres, and Papá drove us to the park to play basketball.  While Mamá cooked dinner, Andrea and I sang Selena Gomez songs and talked about how cool she is.  (Andrea can say, “I love Selena Gomez” in English.)

I talked with my older brother Bruno about American fútbol and fútbol (soccer), and Bruno told me Bolivia has the worst soccer team in Latin America, and it’s like watching elementary schoolers play.  At dinner, we turned on the Superbowl to watch.  We all moved our chairs to one side of the table so we could watch the Superbowl across the room.  My host mom recognized Madonna’s voice so we talked about her a bit. 

Bruno told me that every Bolivian man has to serve 1 year in the army, and it’s interesting because he went to private school (most Bolivians do if they can) and he got the chance in the army to meet different types of people.  We talked about learning languages in school (he learned a little English but he mostly uses it for playing video games) and he told me my Spanish is very good!  WINNING.  Then we talked about politics in the US and Bolivia, and when we all went to bed the Patriots were winning so I’ll just pretend that I never learned otherwise.  Oh and I almost forgot—my family has 2 cats and they are totally cool!  We are already BFFs.  (Duh.)

Sorry for the lack of photos.  Ima get on that.  I’m trying not to look like a tourist (which is mildly impossible given my hair/skin tone).

Moving In

[Written Saturday, the 5th.]
Today, I moved in with my host family!  I did some other things too, like talk about expectations, draw pictures of my fears, and play some percussion instruments (in the morning) but going home with mi familia boliviana was the most exciting part.  All the families came to our hotel around 12:30 to pick us up.  My host parents, younger brother, and sister came to get me in their family’s baby-blue jeep.  My Bolivian parents use it for their job as gardeners.  (I keep writing this in Spanglish and then I have to change it into English.  I guess that’s a good problem to have.)  We live in a part of the city that’s more uphill and close to some mountains (I can see them out the window).  Out the window I can also see a temple (random fun fact). 

Before lunch, we (my sister Andrea, my older brother Bruno, his girlfriend Abby, and I) played Clue.  Lunch was yellow rice, cauliflower in white sauce, fried bananas, little purple potatoes, and everyone else had some chicken.  We were seven—my mom, my dad, my 12-year-old sister Andrea, my 14-year old brother Andres, my 21-year old brother Bruno, and his girlfriend Abby.  I talked with Bruno about politics, which was interesting to hear from a real Bolivian instead of just reading in books.  My host parents showed me that they had cow’s milk, soy milk, and water in the fridge, and they said I could always take anything if I get hungry, because this is my home.  (I had to hug them both after that.)  They told me that food in Bolivia is almost always organic, since it’s from the Bolivian countryside.  They told me about a lot of natural remedies that they have here.  And I talked about being a vegetarian with Bruno, and he said, “Oh yeah, animals are treated really badly in the US, right?”  So of course I said yes, but I never thought about factory farms only being a US thing.  I guess I just assumed all animals are treated badly, but here it would make sense that the campesinos (country people, as opposed to city people) wouldn’t be pumping the animals full of chemicals and squishing them together in tiny buildings (necessarily).

After we went down the block to a little store for ice cream and globos (balloons).  Then I learned to play Puerto Rico, a board game where you colonize Puerto Riceo and send barrels of goods back to Spain.  There were lots of little nuances so next time it will be a lot easier for me.  Next it was tea time!  We ate bread, jelly, and tea, and I gave my family the Amish jam I brought.  They told me it was SO good, and made sure that I knew they appreciated it.  Then Andrea, Andres, and I filled up globos and had a long water balloon fight outside in the street.  I brought my computer to Bruno’s room downstairs so he could help me set up the WiFi.  I facebook-friended Andrea.  She loves singing and can sing every word to tons of songs in Spanish and English (especially Selena Gomez.)  My family members actually know a fair amount of English words, like hot sauce, worms (parasites), and …more that I can’t think of.  Andrea and I played Tetris on facebook, and she destroyed me (I did win once, but the next time I lost 0-20 so that canceled it out.)  Then Andrea and I watched Selena Gomez music videos and sang along, and took silly pictures on Photobooth.   There are LOTS of treasures from that photoshoot.  We came back to the house (we were downstairs in Bruno’s room, which has a separate entry) and showed my host mom our pictures and ate the yummy banana cake she made (with banana-flavored soy milk).   I love them even more than I did yesterday!  

(The internet is turned off right now at my house.)

Mi Familia Boliviana

[Written Friday, about Friday.]

Today I took my Spanish placement test…I’ll find out about how I did tomorrow (or eventually—this is Bolivia and we’re mad chilled out here.)  There was a written part and an oral part.  We have three Spanish teachers and they all are super cool—Chichi, Marta, Beba, y Mechi.  My oral exam was with Mechi and she was super nice.  She just asked me about my life in Spanish.

My roomies, Emily and Amelia, and I are listening to some Juanes right now.  They are also fans, which is fun.  We have some awesome convos.  Everyone on my program is super cool.  This semester is going to be fun!

…And I MET MY FAMILY TODAY!!!  We went to a restaurant and ate with them, and tomorrow we move in.  We talked in Spanish and they told me my Spanish was good!  We talked about tons of stuff…they asked about what I could eat since they knew I was a vegetarian (but I said I only ate a little cheese—flex-eganism)…they love to cook and we’re going to cook food together (I’ll teach them to cook tofu and desserts and they’ll teach me to cook Bolivian cuisine)…they said they’ve had vegetarian students before but never a strict one, but they were super okay with …they asked about why I’m a veg and I talked about how I like animals and how it’s a way for me to give back to the Earth and they thought that was cool (reciprocity is a big thing in Bolivian culture)…they asked about sports I like and we talked about track and running (they said it’s better to run on a track since street dogs sometimes try to bite you)…I told them that I came to Bolivia to learn Spanish so I can teach my future kids to speak Spanish and they were excited about that.  They have two dogs, one of which my host siblings found on the street and took in, but he likes to chew things up (although I also think he doesn’t have teeth--?).  They told me he has all his shots now, so he is safe to have around.

Then after dinner (which included yucca—yum!) we danced for about 3 hours.  Bolivian dancing involves lots of quick steps so we got mad tired.  There was a live band that included a ten-year-old boy playing the drum.  I danced with my host mom and dad (my sister and older brother weren’t there and my middle brother was hanging out with one of his friends who was there).  We did a lot of joining hands and dancing around.  I would think the song had ended, but it always would start up again—I think it’s a style for Bolivian music to have little pauses like that but I would have appreciated a lil break.  I did rest a few times to drink jugo de duro (peach juice).  The juices here are really sweet!  My host dad was serving everyone ice, and my host mom said “NONONO she can’t have the ice!  We don’t know if the water here is okay [for me, they could have it]”  (The water in Bolivia isn’t safe for us to drink, since we aren’t used to it.)  And then she told me that the family makes their own ice, so in my host family’s house I can always have the ice.  It was nice they were so concerned about me!

Now I have to take a shower since I got soooo hot from dancing.  The shower here is the entire bathroom—there’s just a shower head between the toilet and the sink, so the whole room gets a lil damp when someone showers.  (By damp I mean soaked.  But it’s really not hard to get used to.)  Cochabamba also has some water problems, so we have to shower quickly to not waste water.  It’s 12:45 at night, so I have to shower (ducharme!)  I’ll probably be able to post more when I’m at my host family’s house.

The Drop Off

[Okay, this was actually written on Friday, about my day on Thursday.  I didn't proofread because I have lots of better things to do!]

Yesterday we had a "drop-off," where our group was divided into groups of two and sent into the city of Cochabamba with a name of a place to go find.  My partner Ali and I had to find la Cancha San Antonio (San Antonio Market), more specifically el Mercado Artesanal.  So we set off with our map, which didn't have either place marked (or the hotel where we live).  We asked about 5 or 6 people for directions on the way, and ended up walking about 8 or 10 blocks.  (Maybe more…it took about 50 minutes to walk.)  We considered taking a micro (bus) but weren’t sure if that was dangerous, since we were told not to flag down taxis EVER.  So we walked.

In Bolivia, stores are organized by what they sell.  We walked down a paint area, a pharmacy area, etc.  Finally we got there!  When we left it was lunchtime (1:30) so the streets were really empty.  By this time it was pretty crowded.  Once we found la Cancha San Antonio, we looked for el Mercado Artesanal, which turned out to be a little part of the market that sold traditional things like guitars, dolls, rugs, colorful indigenous ponchos, etc.  We were supposed to talk to some people there and learn about the market, so we talked with a man selling rugs for a little while, but he clearly wanted us to buy something so it was a little weird and we weren’t sure if what he said was really true (he said it took his wife a whole year to make a rug—they were maybe a foot by 2 feet).  I have a picture but the internet is seriously struggling, so I can’t post it. 

Then we hung out at a shop on the edge of the market and people-watched.  Then we talked to the two women who ran the stand.  They were probably around our age and said that they took the micro to the market and most of their customers are tourists.  They asked where we were from and when we said the US they got really excited!  They asked if we had markets in the US, and if people take micros, and if there are pickpockets.  Then they got really serious and told us that there are a lot of pickpockets in Cocha and we should always watch our purses.

At this point it was 3:40 so we decided to walk home.  I was pretty sure I knew the way, but we wanted to check just to be sure…too bad neither of us had the hotel’s address.  Oops.  Luckily, we made it back, only ten minutes late (which is no big deal because Bolivian time is way different.  “Ahorita” (literally “right now”) can actually mean just about any amount of time.)

The food here has been really good!  I think the hotel knows that some of us are vegetarians.  (I think there are 5 or 6 of us and one of our program directors is a vegetarian.)  So we’ve had lots of potatoes and yummy soups, and different juices (pineapple, I think papaya, etc).  One soup we ate had papas fritas (fried potatoes) so it was like eating french fries in soup!  Also lots of flan and tea.  Lunch is a big meal—soup, a main course, sometimes a second course, and dessert.  Dinner is just one course, although so far they’ve been buffet style so I can eat plenty.  (Large dinners are not typical in Bolivia.)