"This place where you are right now, God has circled on a map for you."

Tomorrow, I will have exactly one month left in Bolivia. And I don't know how to follow up that sentence because there are  just so many emotions. I am out of my mind excited to return home. Woods coffee with my housemates, Bellingham sunsets with the boy, laughing with my fam, playing with my sweet "nephews" -my heart yearns for those moments and aches for the ones I missed while I was gone.

And yet, Bolivia has embraced me and hasn't let go. Housemates that throw me in the kiddie pool (twice, in one evening!), church friends at bilingual Hillsong concerts, freezing cold showers after a hot, dusty day in el campo, holding babies with deep brown eyes, homemade mango ice cream, mango juice, mango marmalade...I'm on a serious mango kick right now. They are practically leaping from the trees into my open mouth.

In all seriousness though, I don't know how I'm going to leave. I'm used to living here and in a month I won't be here at all. It gives one a desperate "must do everything and love everyone all the time" feeling. Don't want to leave any regrets. But I'm thankful that I don't want to leave because if all I did was want to go home, I'd have missed out on something real good here. And the little ache at the thought of leaving means that I did some living.

I know that God and I chose the exactly perfect amount of time to be here, whether it seems like it or not when the time comes to say "chao." Not only the perfect amount of time, but in the perfect place, circled for me. It's so clear that although I didn't know where I was going until what seemed like the last minute to me, God has truly been preparing me for this trip my whole life. For starters, by giving me a Momma that raised a little world traveler (and yet a Momma's girl at the same time...how did she do it? :] ).

I wrote this on her FB wall the other day but it's worth repeating on the interwebs: 

Dear Mom,
Thank you for giving me a love of Latino culture. Thank you for not allowing me to be afraid of bugs. Thank you for teaching me to stand up for myself. Thanks for being the first one to teach me Spanish. Thanks for encouraging me on this journey! Te quiero muchisimo! From the time I was una chica, you prepared me for this trip. I don´t know if you knew I would be in South America one day but, I´m grateful that you are my Momma!

 So thanks to my Momma, Jesus, and few other supportive people, here goes one more month! Viva Bolivia :)

Mob Justice

Before I left on the Dream of Dreams trip (see here), I had quite the adventure with one of my friends from church. It all started when she asked me to make spaghetti for her family. So we set out to get the ingredients for spaghetti a la Davielle :)

It was already a weird afternoon, being election day, which made the streets eerily quiet and abandoned. You need a permit to drive on election day so most folks just opt to stay home. You're also not allowed to drink the whole weekend proceeding an election, so all the bars are closed.

Anyway, election day caused problems for us because: Every. Single. Store. Was. Closed. Now there aren't a lot of supermarkets in Montero anyway but usually you can get what you need at the huge outdoor market . However, the market too was mainly closed but we managed to find a few stands and got everything except for hamburger (or "ground meat" as it is called here -if you ask for "hamburger" you're gonna get something with a bun).

Just as we were leaving, I see two men running straight at me. There is a look of complete and total terror on the face of the guy in the lead. Then I notice that there's a huge crowd following them. Scratch that, we're going to call them a mob. I'm starting to get a little frightened at this point because the whole gang is headed straight for me and I have nowhere to go.

They end up catching the guy right in front of me. I get a little jostled by the crowd and realized that they are all shouting "thief, thief!!" Turns out that the guy -who just lost what may have been the most important race of his life- stole a woman's purse. By this time, there's a very large man making his way through the crowd, holding a whip. I'm starting to see where this whole thing is headed and believe me, this was not something for which I wanted to be a spectator but the crowd has boxed me in. I was stuck watching.

You can guess what happened next. They didn't whip him within an inch of his life or anything but it wasn't pretty and I wish I wasn't there. It reminded me of a Bible story, where everyone gathers around while they stone a prostitute. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on the guy's face and if he happened to see the look on mine, it was absolute pity.

After a good whipping, the mob dragged him over to a policeman. I'm not sure what happened after that because I was whisked away on my friend's moto. While we were driving away, I asked her if this type of punishment was common and she told me yes. Once, she said a man did something (I didn't know the verb that she used in Spanish, but you can imagine) to a three year old girl and a mob burned him to death. I'm not sure what the crime rate is here in Montero but with punishment like that I would hope it'd be next to nothing.

El Viaje (The Trip)

Yikes, it's been awhile since I've blogged. The excuses -ahem, reasons -are that research for the internship really picked up and then I went to Peru with my housemate. Yup, Peru. Anyway, said all that to say -sorry it's been awhile. Big, long, fat post to make up for it, ok? Ok.

So my "dream of dreams" (or "sueño de sueños") for quite sometime has been to visit Machu Picchu. It's something of a vendetta for me because I was almost able to go in high school...and then I wasn't. Ever since then, I thought it'd be the COOLEST to go and see that abandoned city. Plus, Peru has Inca Cola, which is the best soda on the planet. And while Bolivia isn't exactly close to Machu Picchu, it's closer than I might be for awhile, so I jumped at the chance to go!

For your reading pleasure, here are some of my memorable moments:

Bus or butcher shop?: We're on a eight hour bus ride and I awake from a short snooze to the sound of a woman butchering a sheep. She's literally on the floor of a bus with a sheep carcass, hacking at it with a machete, and selling the meat to nearby passengers. I don't know what weirded me out more, the fact that my bus was also a butcher shop or that I actually really wanted some of that meat, it smelled so good!

The Machu Picchu view: Most anticipated moment of the trip, for sure. I got up at 4am to hike up the mountain (and beat the crowds, as I did not want a bunch of poncho-sporting tourists in my pictures!!). I reached the crest of the mountain, holding my breath, waiting for that iconic postcard-worthy image, and as I rounded the bend....I saw....fog. Nothing but FOG. No ruins, no mountains. It was a whole lotta nada. However, not even five mins later, the fog cleared out and everything slowly emerged, revealing the prettiest view that I have ever seen. There are no words, folks! The fog just made things more dramatic.

How Machu Picchu almost wasn't: We were "sold" Machu Picchu tickets by a man named Oscar, who insisted that if we didn't buy right then and there, we'd be unable to go. Unwilling to risk my dream of dreams, I "bought" the tickets from him against my better judgment. But he didn't actually give us the tickets. Instead, he said that his coworker, Maria, would give them to us when we got to Cusco. Yet when we arrive in Cusco, there are no tickets and even worse, no money. Maria is late to every meeting and incredibly unhelpful. She just keeps telling us "I have no money, can no buy tickets." Finally, I end up telling her that it's her responsibility, her business, and we need the tickets by that night. I also may have complained to other tourists in the hostel lobby. That finally got her moving and she borrowed the money from her son so she could buy us the tickets. To say that business practices down here are inefficient and frustrating is something like the understatement of the year. Learned my lesson though, I'm never dishing out money unless I get some tickets in my hands! And just in case you feel bad for Maria, Oscar eventually gave her the money (the day we went to Machu Picchu -just a little late).

White does not equal red, white, and blue: Before leaving from Peru, I had the assumption that all white people here in South America are from the States. Boy, was I wrong! I met some Brazilians, Australians, and a ton of Europeans during my travels. I think I met more Dutch people on the trip than I did Americans. Meeting people from other cultures was one of my favorite parts of the trip, for sure!

Best meal: It's a tie between the Alpaca steak in Puno and the trout from Lake Titicaca. I also really liked the street food in Cusco, super cheap stuffed peppers that I would eat everyday if I could. And Inca Cola, that stuff gets better every time I try it!

Art Criminal: Our first time out in the big city of Cusco, we were stopped in the main plaza to admire some painting that a young man was selling. Art is one of my favorite souvenirs to purchase, so I found a painting that I liked and prepared to pay for it. But just when I was about to hand the guy my money, the police come and without so much as a glance in my direction, they grab the art dealer by the arms and haul him off. I was stunned. Welcome to the big city of Cusco! I asked a shopkeeper about it later and she said it's illegal to sell things in the plaza so that's why the guy got canned.

Taxis are scary: My father, being the great dad that he is, scared some good sense into me before leaving on the trip. That coupled with some research on the most common ways of kidnapping, and I was convinced that every taxi driver was taking us to our deaths, or at least going to drain my bank account after torturing me for hours to get my debt card pin number. So I am freaking out already during our first taxi ride, when our driver veers off the main road and starts going down a dirt one. "Awesome, robbed during the first hour of our trip," I'm thinking. Turns out, he just wanted to show us a beautiful view of La Paz. Glad I'm not prone to heart attacks. 

Las islas flotantes: Besides Machu Picchu, the floating islands were one of the coolest things that I saw. These people literally build the land using peat and reeds. And then they live on it. Seriously folks, go google this or something because it's nuts. I also got to ride on a reed boat during this adventure while the sun was setting and that was amazing! 

Just part of the crowd: It was really refreshing to blend into the crowd for once down here. Since we hit a lot of tourist attractions, I was never the only gringa and the locals were used to blondes. That is very different than here in Montero, where everyone stares at me -all the time. It was nice to not be unique for once!

Savor the moment: After a long stressful day of travel, while still recovering from almost not getting tickets to the dream of dreams, we got to relax in the hot springs outside of Machu Picchu. The little town we stayed in (appropriately called Machu Picchu Pueblo) is nestled in the rain forest, with towering mountains on every side. My house in Montero is lovely but there's not a whole lot of vegetation there so it was very refreshing to be surrounded by so much green! After some much needed relaxation, we got absolutely dumped on by a cool jungle rain. It was a very special moment, one with a lot of gratitude. I am so fortunate to have had this opportunity to travel and experience these beautiful countries and people -and to better myself, to stretch and grow, to find out what I am made of and what I can do. I don't take this trip for granted for a moment!

Pictures from the trip can be seen here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150351238347747.345008.562022746&type=1&l=18bfd49899

The Time I Interviewed Drunk Man and Other Short Stories

We FINALLY got to go out to el campo today! As I mentioned in my last post, we were supposed to spend three days out there but that was before the biggest, most intense thunderstorm of my life. That lasted. TWO. DAYS. I would have been willing to brave the weather but the roads out there were trashed, so no dice.

But today, Fabi and I headed out! I got to interview families and water committee members about the water systems -and folks, I did this all by myself  :) Etta Projects put in an expansive water systems in four villages a couple of years ago and it was amazing to hear how having clean, accessible water has changed these families' lives! One young mother told me that she used to have to carry gallon after gallon back to her house from the pump -in the blazing heat. I don't know if she took her young children with her or left them at home by themselves but either way, not a good situation. Now, all she has to do is walk out her front door and turn on her facet! So great.

It was soon after this visit that I ran into a man on my way to the next house. Fabi told me she was going to go find the president of the water committee so when this guy approached me, I assumed it was him. And then just in case it wasn't him, I asked him if he was the president of the water committee. He says yes and proceeds to tell me how he's in charge of blah, blah, blah. I'm starting to notice that he has a really strange accent...like he's slurring his words. And I'm thinking, "Shesh, this guy is going to be really hard to understand for a whole interview." But I've had some difficult interviews before so I ask him what he thinks of the water system. He thinks for a moment...and starts talking about my pink hat. Yikes. "Am I really that hard to understand??" At this point, Fabi waves at me to come from farther down the street. So I tell "the president" to hold on for a moment.  Fabi tells me he's drunk. And I feel stupid. But HE TOLD ME HE WAS THE PRESIDENT. Gah. So dumb!

After I interviewed the REAL president, it started to rain, really hard. And then there was thunder and lightening and wind. Fabi was worried about us making it back into town. Remember all that dust I talked about earlier? (See here -Oooo look, I got so fancy posting a link!) Well, it turns the roads into the equivalent of butter and our truck has a hard time churning through that stuff. We booked it out of there really fast.

On our way out, two soldiers ran out meet us. And I'm thinking that a Bolivian prison sounds like a miserable experience (although it would be a great blog entry!) but they just want a ride into town. So they hop in the back. "Eeeeexcellent," I think. Not because I enjoy a man in uniform (and shesh, I have a boyfriend people!) but because if we get stuck -they can push us out!

But we didn't get stuck, and we all made it back to town were I ate the best piece of chicken in my entire life. And we all lived happily ever after until the next blog post.

"You're not from here, are you?"

I get asked this question a lot. A lot. A lot. A lot. And if it's not the question, then it's the glance followed shortly by the double-take. The really gutsy people ask for a photo. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that.

This sequence of events doesn't usually bother me but what DOES bother me is this question: "She's not from here, is she?" Why does this bother me more? Because it's directed at whichever Bolivian I'm with at the time, meaning that this person is not only assuming that I'm not from here (which is a correct assumption -obviously) but that I can't speak Spanish. And I CAN speak Spanish. Usually, I speak up and tell them "Yes, I'm from the States."

Although this frustrates me, what really gets me is when the people still insist on speaking to my Latino comrades after I've already answered them in Spanish! "So, does she speak Spanish then?" I want to be snotty and retort, "No, I'm just speaking Spanish on accident. It's a total fluke." But I don't because I'm not rude. And because I know I've been an idiot with foreigners before too.

This whole conversation happened a few days ago when I was out to eat with two of my housemates, Guillermo and Fabi. After the woman finally figured out that I could communicate, she started telling me that her and her family are trying to move to the States because "Bolivia is a dirty place full of crime and it's just a terrible place for children. The culture of the United States is so much better than here. Everything is better in the United States."

Awkward! My Bolivian housemates are sitting right next to me while this woman is dissing her/their culture, town, and ultimately identity. Sure, there are things that are awesome about the States. I love the States and I especially love Washington. But I'm from that culture, I'm supposed to be biased. And there are things that are better in Bolivia. The way people just sit around and talk in the evenings for entertainment...the way mamas carry their babies close to their hearts....the motorcycle taxis....the ice cream. Those are great things!

Anyway, it was one of the weirdest experiences that I've had so far. Honestly, I was even offended that she was insulting the place that I chose to live for three months. Her comments stung because I love Bolivia.

Coming up next: I hope a bunch of stories from el campo! The team and I will be spending a lot of time out there for the next three days and I am excited!!

Do's and Don'ts

Do eat the ice cream. Everyday.

Don't use the ice.

Do learn to ignore the bugs.

Don't eat intestines.

Do miss Bellingham and fall.

Don't feel guilty about it.

Do invest in relationships.

Don't pet the animals.

Do go out in the town by yourself.

Don't do it at night.

Do speak Spanish as much as you can.

Don't be afraid to sound stupid.

Do say yes when people want you to hold their babies and take a picture of you.

Don't say yes when it's a man that wants a photo. Or your phone number.

Do miss home.

Don't miss it enough to not enjoy where you where you're at, the people you're with, or the country you're living in.

Suga Suga and Eat My Dust

I'm sitting in the living room right now, wondering if my ride to church is still coming. That's the thing about Bolivia -you never know if you just didn't understand correctly or if they are simply running on Latino time. I'm honestly debating whether or not I should go back to bed but I just had a cup of coffee so I think that option is probably out.

Anyway...I've been meaning to talk about the sugarcane on here for quite sometime. One of the first things I noticed when I got to Montero was the smell. While it's not as bad as manure or dying things, it is distinct and very strong. Guillermo informed me that it comes from the sugarcane refineries here in town. And while you might have an image from Charlie in the Chocolate Factory in your head, that's not quite accurate.

Sidenote: My ride is here!! Only an hour and half later than they said. I'll finish this later...  

Continued:
Montero is known as "The Sweet Town" and is the capital of sugarcane in Bolivia. It's very common to get stuck behind a huge truck loaded to the brim with stalks of burned sugarcane. That's right, burned sugarcane. Harvesters burn the cane to get rid of excess leaves and branches, leaving only the stalks intact. This makes the harvesting easier once they start hacking at it with machetes. Also gets rid of all the snakes (shudder). Snakes are worst than dogs. True story.

Anyway, supposedly the refineries and plantation owners are not supposed to accept burned cane, but it's obvious that this rule isn't enforced. Burning saves the harvesters from a lot of work and I was just reading that it's actually helped decrease child labor here because the harvest requires less workers. However, it can easily destroy whole forests full of monkeys, birds, and tropical foliage, leaving behind ugly, charred ground in its wake.

Often times when we are returning from el campo, there are whole fields burning. Once, I thought I was going crazy because it looked like it was snowing but it was actually just the ash falling from the sky. You can imagine what the smoke/ash combo does for the air quality here. Excuse me while I cough up a lung. Imagine the poor little ones out in el campo with asthma! I've heard many, many mothers complain that their children get sick from the smoke. It's also common to burn your garbage out there too, only aggravating the problem further.

The dust is the other thing that doesn't help the whole breathing thing. If we get stuck behind a huge truck full of cane or there's the slightest breeze, it's like the dustbowl of the 1930's all over again. Fabi can barely see well enough to drive.

Needless to say, I return SO filthy after a full day of work. The dust acts like I put on sunscreen just so it could stick to me. On the bright side, I look really tan if you're not looking too closely. And this type of tanning doesn't give you cancer, so it's pretty much win/win.

Although I'll probably just get cancer from all the Coke I'm drinking instead. You win some, you lose some, folks.