cancellations, boredom, and nekkid kidlets

I just finished reading "Nine Hills to Namonbahka" which is the account of a Peace Corps Volunteer in Cote D´Ivoire (West Africa for my geographically disinclined friends). I tell you all this to adress those of you who hope that I will write a book about my own experiences... Sorry, not gonna happen. Although I´m quite sure that the author (Sarah Erdman) edited out many of those typical Peace Corps days of sitting around doing nothing, I´m not sure the rest of my days warrent a full-length book. The blog will have to cut it.

Let´s see.... Two weeks ago, I was invited to several schools for their environmental fairs. Each class presented experiments, posters, and even some skits to illustrate the importance of water. My personal favorite was a group of kidlets who each dressed up representing the different departments of Bolivia and gave a short speech. I would have liked this even more if, as honored guest, I didn´t have to sit in front of the stage in the blazing sun but everyone involved did a splendiferous job writing up 10 commandments of water, or presenting skits on how to save water and why not to poop in and/or drink out of the river etc. The students of one particularly ferocious nun actually went to the offices of the company building our new road to check out their anti-pollution practices (sadly nonexistent).

This same week the Peace Corps Doc came to visit my place to make sure that I´m using my mosquito net, not eating lettuce, and being generally happy and healthy. I took her out for chicken...or actually she paid for my chicken...and then we walked to my English class where my bud Osvaldo told me he had no idea there was going to be English class. Let me explain, Osvaldo is the security guy at my agency so he usually knows what´s going on in the building. He is also the main person to pester me about starting classes so for him not to know that we were starting was kind of frustrating. But the Doc, Osvaldo and I hung out until two students showed up. It went well but due to a big meeting, we haven´t had classes since then. My students picked what time they wanted classes but many people have told me that it´s too late at night...not sure how to deal with that. Then I escaped to the city where I got yet another vaccination, went dancing with the cute Argentinians, and got rather ill. (All better!)

I got back to town in time for my Spanish lesson but my teacher had gone somewhere else for what was explained to me as "an emergency." So I had time to gather sand (weird gringa hanging out in river) for my Monday tree-planting! I had just returned to my room when one of the teachers showed up to tell me that they wanted to postpone afore-mentioned tree planting. So I had time to work on my talk on reforestation for the kindergarden profes! That talk went really well. Everyone seemed interested and if nothing else they learned that trees NEVER breathe out carbon dioxide. A popular wives tale in Bolivia is that plants produce oxygen during the day but CO2 at night. For this reason, you shouldn´t have a plant in your room because it can kill you. So I tried to dispel this myth. I also taught them some games and activities to use with the kidlets and learned that you should never use fertilizer on violets.

The next coupla days I worked with the kids, presenting a puppet show and some games on the parts of trees. As my counterpart said "You need patience to work with kindergarden." Of course he then added "Do you even have patience?" I´m very patient damnit! As a perk to working with the youngins I now have 120 small children who know my name and point me out to their parents whenever I walk by. This Friday we´re going to plant seeds (she says with optimism that they´ll actually remember to bring the needed supplies.)

Saturday I had a day that will never ever make it into my Peace Corps book. I was so very bored out of my skull. I recently bought a TV and had watched about as many dubbed movies that I can take. I had bought gas for my stove, washed my dishes, and folded my laundry so I decided to go take photos of the market and town. This resulted in a small posse of children posing for me and some very cute photos. Then I escaped to the plaza where I ran into my friend Lino, a German volunteer. He mocked me because he always seems to find me in the plaza doing nothing. (That is because he´s only around on Saturdays.) As is typical in Bolivian Spanish conversation he asked me "Where have you lost yourself" because we haven´t seen each other in months. As is typical in Bolivian Spanish I answered, "here. there." About two seconds later one of the nuns ("Hola monja!") walked by and asked Lino where he had lost himself. I find this question rather irritating in the scheme of things. For one, I am often asked by people who have my phone number and/or know where I live. Come find me! Also, it is often the other person who is missing. The other day my neighbor, who had been in La Paz for the past month asked me.

Change of subject. Sunday I went to hang with the kidlets in the church hall. I brought playing cards and Harry Potter. Several children followed me home despite a deep-seated fear of my dog. (I think I will exaggerate the size of his teeth to discourage future visits. But really, he´s an ancient German Shepherd.) Anyhoo, we were hanging in my room, touching every single one of my belongings, watching my tv, and drinking my water (I am very possesive) when the little boys disappeared. I left my room to hear the water running and a small pile of clothing outside of my bathroom door. Goodness! Naked little boys showering in my house! When everyone was fully clothed I kicked them out because I´m cruel like that. They asked me to forgive them and to not throw them out and promised to come back at 3. I mentioned this occurence to the Principal of the Kindergarden who had remarked on the posse traipsing through our patio and she said that it was great that they got to shower. So apparently it isn´t quite as bizarre as I thought it was.

Sunday night I was invited to a talent show at the high school. Two of my friends were singing so I suffered through several hours. I think my favorite (besides my friends) was a comic re-interpretation of Hotel California in Spanish and Quechua about a guy who had a child out of wedlock. However, talent shows in whatever language are painful and most of the evening was spent listening to the crowd insulting the acts.

My class on trees for a school in the campo was postponed due to yet another paro civico or as my friend Doña Horti calls them "dias de flojo." This particular lazy day was to urge the highway company to come back sooner to finish their work. Oddly, the teacher seems to have foreseen this because when we made plans weeks ago she said "Come on Tuesday but if you can´t Thursday is fine." So Thursday and Friday, more trees. Woot!