shock o culture

I heartily apologize for not writing in quite some time. I was struck down by a two-month cold (still going strong) and a hearty case of culture shock. To be honest, I didn´t realize it was culture shock until yesterday. I just thought I was in a long-term crappy mood and having several more "I-hate-Bolivia" moments followed by fewer than usual " I-love-Bolivia" moments. It´s not like the culture is entirely different. The religion is the same, the language is familiar and I don´t really feel that much like a minority. If I were to use a metaphor, which I will, I´d say it´s like watching somewhat eating an apple and thinking, "That´s totally not how you do it! Everyone knows you eat around the middle first!" Of course, I could be anal about my apple-eating technique but in general it´s a feeling that people are doing things strangely. In general, I handle this well...stepping back, evaluating and perhaps adapting the new technique for apple eating.

Just to clarify, I think Bolivians eat their apples the same way but they eat oranges differently. They just unpeel a little bit and then suck the hell out of it. Also, they cut eveything into teeny tiny pieces before eating it.

Examples of Ellen´s culture shock: A few weeks ago I went into the office and was handed three rolls of toilet paper. Hooray! I then had to sign two different forms confirming that I had received said toilet paper and was told that it was mine and only mine and I should not let anyone else use my TP nor use anyone else´s. Ok. Later I went to use the copy machine where I was mocked for not knowing enough to bring my own paper. In my humble opinion, I think these sort of things should fit into normal operating costs. I mean does someone get penalized if they use more than their alloted three rolls?
When in Tarija I went to the post office to pick up a package. Package pick up, by the way, is only between 3:30 and 4 on Mon,Wed, Fri. I went to one window to pay 21Bs and the woman put three postage stamps on each package slip, two rubber stamps and signed them. She then told me to go into the first door on my right. Once in that hallway, I was told to go back outside and make copies of both of the package slips. (Why couldn´t the first lady have told me this?) So I did and returned and was told that since the packages had arrived eight days ago, I had to pay for eight days of storage. This I don´t understand. If I can only pick up my package three days out of the week, one of which was a holiday, I shouldn´t have to pay for the other days. Ah well. I did and returned. Then I had to sign each package slip and copy and wait for the customs guy who showed up 15 minutes late. He opened my packages, retaped them and sent me on my merry way. (One of the packages wasn´t even for me)
Yesterday I was riding in a bus when the ticket-taker didn´t rip every single part of my half of the ticket off. Rather than letting it go she tore the teeniests bits off (which by the way had no writing nor any importance to me) and handed them to me. Why?

Perhaps it´s not so much culture shock as it is beauracracy shock. (Did I spell that right?) They drill into your brain during training that this is normal. You will have a honeymoon period, then a culture shock, readjustment, further culture shock, further readjustment and then you´ll never wanna go home again. According to the time scale, my honeymoon period lasted way longer than normal.

Anyhoo, for the past month I wrote up a very informative presentation on trash management. AFTER my counterpart read it he told me that the schools had extended their vacations and that I wouldn´t have the presentation yet. Ah well, I´ll be ready.

I went to Cochabamba to reconnect with the other volunteers in my training class, present a diagnostic about my community, take some Spanish etc. Due to blockades between me and the airport I got to take a bus through Potosí. Let me tell you, Potosí is frikkin cold! (highest bus terminal in the world) But there are llamas! (although not necessarily in the terminal) Anyhoo, in Cocha I did get the opportunity to visit my host family whom I love so much. They are just so splendiferous. I went and played cards with the boys, they commented on the fact that I talk a hell of a lot more and we had a bunch of fun. (Eliz, they thank you for the cards. Perfect gift) I also got the chance to eat salteñas, buy some used clothing (which just cuz it´s used doesn´t mean it´s color-fast as I found out today by dying all my socks pink), get more vaccinations, eat in restaurants...and take a Quechua class. Quechua rox my sox. Who knew that I was capable of glottal stops and hacking and spitting like a pro? Y´all do now.

Let´s see. This Monday was Bolivian Independence day. I was not feeling well but didn´t want to miss it so I ventured out of my house where I ran into two guys I work with. They invited me to march with them in the parade. This consisted of standing in the sun for two hours, waiting to march, and then marching one block past the mayor´s stand. That´s it. But it was fun to see all the schools in their formal get-ups and all the organizations that exist in the town. This one high-schooler pinned a Bolivian rosette on me. At first I thought he was some punk trying to cop a feel but it was a friend I play basketball with and I swear if I had a daughter I would fix her up with him. Anyone want to marry their daughter off to an athletic, respectful to women, good looking Bolivian?

After the parade all my work peeps went to hang out and barbecue and I tagged along. Then I was asked to cook some sort of dessert for my friend´s go-away party. Apparently word has got out that I can cook. So after a shower and a nap (useless details, I know) I met up with a gal pal to cook apple crisp. The go away party was tons of fun...an "I feel like I´m with friends in the states" moment. However, I left early to go hang with my Bolivian boytoy because he was freaking out a bit. Every time he called a different male friend of mine would answer my cell demanding "Who is this? Why do you want to talk to Ellen? How long have you known her?" The last time I answered and they all started chanting "Seco seco seco!" which is the Spanish equivalent of "chug chug chug!" (Don´t worry mom. I wasn´t drinking. Also my friends apologized for mocking me mercilessly and promised to call me "American friend" instead of "gringa".)

No more news.

This was my horoscope today, "When was the last time you experienced something foreign (sushi, burritos, and sweet-and-sour pork do not count!)? Today, make a bigger effort to expand your horizons. This is an ideal day to research travel plans, especially if they involve travel outside of the country. Deciding on the right time to go can be a hassle, but if you pick a time now, you can avoid any complications later. The time is always perfect for planning an ambitious vacation." I find that highly amusing.

It is official: I am a site rat. This term is used to describe people who stay in their own town instead of going into the city every few weeks. Last week (ie the last week of June), I was actually a little worried about my sanity and felt an overwhelming need for some gringo time. Things were getting just a little too bizarre. Several times throughout the last few weeks I have been amazed at the conversations I´ve had. Topics included transvestites, race relations, how I need a boyfriend, toilet hygeine, and how to properly wash my socks.

<----my site

So I went to go visit my friend Stephanie in her site. She works for the same counterpart agency so my bosses in Peace Corps and in my counterpart agency encourage such visits. Her site is similar to mine in terms of size but it feels more friendly. Because it is about two hours away from the main thru-Bolivia highway it is a bit more isolated. I however live at a bus stop on a main highway (I use the word highway very loosely) and there are always so many strangers passing through that I don´t get a second look. Ok that´s not true. The high school students whistle at me, grown men sing to me in English and sometimes I am downright stared at. But less so than when I was visiting Stephanie. Also, fewer people say hi to me than to her.

We took a brief tour of her town...the tree nursery, the office, the market. I was introduced to some of her friends and then we went to the cementery to see what Dia de San Pedro was all about. Many families in town were up visiting the graves of their loved ones. At each grave, (we learned later) visitors are invited to partake in chicha (corn brew) and singani (like vodka made from grapes). Luckily, Stephanie knew the members of the family at the second grave so we did not have to visit every single one. We got tipsy enough as it was. Then we made a lovely dinner together and lit sparklers. The next day we hiked up a trail that overlooks the town. While up there we saw several birds hovering at our eye level. It was splendiferously awesome.

I returned to town Saturday night because I was sposed to have chorus practice but the trip took way longer than expected and I was still recovering from my chicha experience so I just went straight to bed. Sunday I hung out with my friend Gloria and her youth group. They were celebrating someone´s birthday so much of the morning consisted of eating, taking photos, and getting hung on by 50 little children. I met another gringo, a German volunteer who lives closer to Stephanie. Somehow, we and Gloria made plans to go visit one of the salt flats at the end of the month and to hike Machu Picchu at the end of the year. (I´ll keep you posted)

After 4 hours of being hung upon we gave the kids back to their parents and went out into the campo for lunch. We were late, as is typical, so there was no lunch left. But Gloria and her friend Chalita pestered the cook until she made us some, while Lino (the German volunteer) and Pedro (Gloria´s friend) and I went to the river to skip rocks. They also set things on fire. Boys. Lunch was chicken, pork, and chuño. (I was given chicken because I said I don´t eat pork.) I got the neck of the chicken and the nose of the pig. I am not kidding. I felt that I should try it, because when I am ever going to eat pig head again but I am afraid of eating anything piggy here. Chuño by the way are little tiny black potatoes. They are frozen in rivers in the altiplano, the water is squeezed out by stomping on them, and then frozen again out in the cold. They are not very good. This prompted a discussion on Italian food and Lino and I wound up making dinner for everyone that night. We made pasta in a red sauce with garlic bread. Apples for dessert. Lino and I both learned how Bolivians cut thing in their hand without use of a cutting board.

On Monday I was invited to help out with "FestaCintis" which I was slightly surprised to learn was a Catholic youth retreat. I showed up and then was made to sing about Jesus in front of 200 high schoolers. Once again, I´m glad that I´m Catholic. Things would be tons more strange to me if I wasn´t. I also had a sorta date. A coworker from another town is apparently madly in love with me and I felt that I may as well go so he can be disappointed that I am not quite as glamorous as he thinks. (To explain the "sorta" my neighbor/coworker invited the date and me over for tea and then disappeared. So we didn´t actually go anywhere.) I did get the distinct impression that he really loves the USA rather than any attraction to me but we did talk for 4 hours and he actually has good taste in music. However, he´s a Yankee fan so it will ever work.

Wednesday I went into Tarija to stuff myself with good food, set things on fire, and drink myself silly (Hooray 4th of July!) I also did some shopping, ate even more, saw Pirates (all by lonesome) and a few futbol games, and "hiked" up to a waterfall outside of the city. The newbies came on Sunday for their site visits. They all seem lovely.

Tarija --> The gang at the waterfall--->

<-----newbies

A few people have queried what I do on a day-to-day basis. I am a Peace Corps volunteer in natural resources/environmental education. At the moment my job consists of shooting the shit. A day to day basis? Hmmmmm. Usually I come into work at 8:00 and develop lesson plans. At 12:30 I go eat lunch, either at my pension (a restaurant where I get a discount for eating there every day) or at the Pastor´s house. If it´s a Pastor day, I chill at their house, teaching the kids English until they get tired, I get bored, or I have something better to do. Then I either go into the office to shoot the shit with my coworkers, walk up to the tree nursery to shoot the shit with the ladies who work up there, or I do whatever the heck I feel like (which usually includes napping, shopping, showering, cleaning, and shooting the shit with the neighbors). Sometimes I give workshops in the schools but they have three week winter vacation right now. Also I give workshops to teachers and I visit other communities around my town.

My parents have kindly reminded me that my birthday is coming up (time really flies!) so I´ll get on constructing a b-day list.

sweater vests and meat pastries

In the interest of oversharing: some months I am just so happy to get my period. It means I can rationalize any inexplicable depression or crying for the preceding days. I am not a complete and utter freak...I am a woman! Hooray!

Haven´t thought through what I want to write today. I haven´t even written in my journal for months. I think I was going to enumerate more things I like (burros), don´t like (talking about the weather, unreliability), and am no longer amused by (people who can only say "good morning beautiful" in English and insist on saying it whatever time of day it is).

Also, I´ve decided that I want to be an old Bolivian man when I grow up. I will be slightly slouched. I will wear a sweater vest AND a cardigan. and I will sit around in the plaza talking to other old, sweater-vest-wearing men. If only they played chess or dominoes.

News: I´ve moved houses. Now I have a much smaller room with a hot shower and some very cool neighbors and a dog. I do not have men throwing rocks at my windows in the middle of the night anymore. Nor do I have a creepy old man neighbor who watches porn.
Also, I´ve been suckered into teaching English twice a week to the Pastor´s kids in exchange for lunch and cakes. The cakes part was a joke (y´know..church ladies...cakes...no?) but I´m afraid that they might actually make some for me.

Also, also, I´ve met some cool new people who are trying to sucker me into making puppets with one of the youth groups. I might be willing to do so but in the meantime it´s nice to expand my circle of buddies. In addition, several of my "students" now say hi to me in the streets and that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy adentro.

At the same time as my social schedule is expanding (I´ve also apparently been scheduled for a date with a semi-coworker), last night I had my first night alone in days. It was splendiferous. Ah to be an American who enjoys her me time.

I have had a wicked cold for three weeks now. Who gnu a body could have so much mucus?

Now off to the vivero to meet with the viverista who won´t be there because he never is. It´s a long uphill walk everyday for nothing.

But first! the empanada guy is here! I love the empanada guy! He is so friendly! And he comes bearing empanadas!

My duff. And how it was sat upon.

During training I made the mistake of telling the country director that "sitting in my room reading all day" might be an impediment to me integrating into my community and getting work done. He referenced this about thirty times after that. But yesterday I did indeed hold my second day of room-sitting. I just needed to. This weekend I got no sleep nor relaxation because...get this...there was an auto race in my town. Twenty pimped-out, really friggin loud, formula one cars racing around my town for two days. Some of the drivers even had the overwhelming courtesy to drive their cars (really friggin loud cars may I remind you) at 3AM. No joke.

Monday I held my first official workshop with 18 profes on trash games. It was suprisingly exhausting yet exhilirating (how do you spell that?) to spend an hour and a half trying to be somewhat comprehensible in Español. My compañero asked me if I was nervous...but really I was just excited to do it. I hope it went over well. The profes seemed oddly impressed by my crafts made from trash...wallet out of wine box, handwashing station out of bottles, candelabra out of tin can. That last one I was especially surprised about. I mean I stuck a candle in a tuna can (with gum!) so it wouldn´t fall over and burn my house down. Not that creative.

So anywho yesterday I needed a break..and really had nothing to do. So I hid in my room making the best ever tomato soup (anyone have an tips on seed removal?), folding my laundry, sucking down "Glue" by Irvine Welsh, and playing with the cutest kittens ever.

<-----Los gatitos <-----Room with a view

I did try to get something accomplished by visiting the Director Distrital to plan our visits to two more schools but he´s out of town. I also went to the vivero (tree nursery) to meet with the viverista but he also wasn´t there. Some guys from the mayor´s office showed up looking for him too, so we drove around town to find him...without sucess. During this driving time I was invited out to get drunk with one of the guys from the mayor´s office. I not so politely declined. I wound up back at the office and got sucked into talking to the big bad boss about the town´s green spaces project....which I´m apparently going to be helping out with. Unfortunately I was having one of theose "moments of complete incomprehension" which happen when I can´t think in Spanish and make an idiot of myself.

And tomorrow is the desfile! Apparently, if I understood correctly, we´re marching in the parade in "appropriate clothing." Vamos a ver.

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I´ve decide to add a new category to TILHAABIB called thingsIwillneverunderstand about Bolivia. I won´t be changing the acronym though because as of right now it just rolls off the tongue. Anyhoo, I won´t ever understand why people wash their sidewalks.

First month in site!

I´ve been in site a whole month! I don´t really have any cultural news. There were only three festivals this month, none of which I took part in. I flew into Tarija on Tarija day and all I witneesed slightly out of the norm was a lot of marching bands in the street. And really, that is only slightly out of the norm. Marching bands are real big here. On Labor Day I had the day off and I noticed that there was no one in town so it was more boring than usual. I was told later that the people were most likely inside getting sloshed so perhaps it´s good that I didn´t particpate. Then there was some very small happening where some townspeople hiked up to the plateau over the town where there are stations of the cross. They brought one of the crosses down and remained in a house praying, eating, and drinking for a day before they returned the cross. I´ve been wanting to hike up there for weeks now but apparently the trail is very hard to find and as I am really clumsy it might be better if I go with other people...who can scrape my body off the rocks. And I´m gonna miss Chuquisaca day because I have a meeting in Tarija. (Grr! And I was invited to a barbecue and everything!)

So work has begun to pick up. I do get some glimpses of how many problems I will face from lack of transportation, lack of enthusiasm, language barrier, and some uniquely Bolivian problems.

Last week I went to a school that my organization has a program with. I was introduced and given ideas on what they want from me...including a workshop on didatic games and help in their tiny tree nursery. I went back later to coordinate this but the Principal wasn´t there and the teacher responsible for the nursery told me in no uncertain terms that she was NOT interested. I went back yesterday and was introduced to two teacher who actually DO want to be involved so we outlined the next steps and I somehow agreed to give two talks this week (Friday and Monday). Luckily, I guess, I don´t work on Friday afternoons so I had to cancel one talk which will give me a smidge more time to prepare.

I also went to visit the Director of the School District twice but he wasn´t there. So I went with some coworkers out to the campo to visit two schools there and check out their schoolyard gardens. It was nice to have a different perspective because right now I live in a "zona urbana" and the culture and the kids seem different. Also, one of the schools gave me a bag of radishes...so that was nice.

This weekend the five closest volunteers came to visit me....or really to use the internet and eat in a restaurant...but I´m a perk. It was a perk for me too because I could visit them at the hostel and take a hot shower and watch cable tv. So rather than doing nothing alone, we did nothing together. One night we actually tried to visit as many hamburger joints as possible to compare the quality of food. (There are only about four if you´re liberal about your definition of hamburger.) We plazeared, played cards, ate, and visited the one bar in my town. My poor friend Steph got propositioned in the five seconds it took for my friend to walk me home. But of course she promised to introduce me to this lovely married man whose relationship is on the rocks. Apparently we have a lot in common, like believing in extraterrestrials, thinking that the US is spreading disease to further capitalism, and harboring atomic bombs. (To clarify just in case, these are not beliefs that I harbor strongly or at all.)

I also have started to play basketball with my coworkers and other gente. I learned the words for "pick and roll", "sprained ankle", "cheering section" and "shoot already gringa!" I got my butt kicked by the secretary in 1on1 but later beat a male coworker. He blamed this occurence on the fact that I am an American and therefore must be vastly superior at all sports except soccer. (For those who don´t knnow me, I´m about 5ft2 and 105 pounds. Not exactly star player material.) The next day I got my butt kicked by a 12 year old girl. She wasn´t American.

I visited the Director of the School District and he wants me to work with three schools in my town and five in the campo. I have to somehow balance this with working in the municipal tree nursery (which I haven´t done at all) and with the Mayor´s program on green spaces. And to think I was bored last week.

Yesterday the director took me out to the campo to check out three schools and meet everyone there. I must work on introducing myself. It is very formal here, as are goodbyes and thank yous and as an American I have trouble with expressing deepest gratitude for having met someone and wishing them all the best in all that they try to accomplish in their life...after only five minutes of talking. Anyway the schools were very small...two were one room schoolhouses which should provide a unique challenge. The kiddos were cute like all Bolivian children and none of them knew where the United States are. Now I just have to schedule activites, figure out appropriate lessons...and manage transportation out to the schools. Two might be close enough to bike it.

That´s all folks.

It Depends.

It has come to attention that several newbie Piscorinos (PCVs) and some applicants have stumbled upon my blog seeking answers. Recognizing that they have probably been disappointed thus far I will try to enumerate some common concerns.

Let´s start at the beginning shall we? The application: Really it´s not that hard. They want to make sure that you´re intelligent, relatively well rounded, and not crazy and/or racist. Try to get your references in as soon as humanly possible. Hounding them will be good practice for Peace Corps anyway. On the medical portion, learn from my mistakes...do NOT check anything unless you know that it will actually cause a problem. Unless you want two lung capacity tests and an echocardiogram...then by all means check to your hearts content. And your essays do not have to be theses.

The interview: Again, PC is trying to make sure that you´re fairly intelligent, openminded, and not racist, crazy or running away from your life. I read somewhere that if you´ve just broken up with significant other or had another big life change they will make you wait another six weeks or so. (It took a lot of effort not to write "se dice que" en vez de "I read somewhere")They will ask you about your concerns, your educational and work background, and preferences for placement. You can find the standard questions on the PC Yahoo groups. Be flexible yet specific...especially if you know that if they offer you Chechnya for example (which they won´t), that you won´t go.

Nomination: I was nominated in the interviewer´s office. But otherwise you sit around and wait for a letter and medical/dental packet. Make sure you have recieved everything. It´s ok to bother your recruiter but don´t be an ass about it. They travel a lot, are busy, and there have about a hundred other nominees to deal with. Patience is a virtue.

Medical: Mine took from June to August, including the aforementioned lung capacity tests and echocardiogram. It´s basically a rigorous physical. I wasn´t really that surprised by any of the tests...although the packet they give you is huge. Make sure to triple-check everything and make copies. FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS! Explain to your doctor that everything is needed. You may want to explain to a boss what´s going on so that they don´t think that you´re dying from some strange disease...but your decision.

The placement office might call a few times or they might not. Be patient. I was called once and not given any clue as to my progress in the process. I also had the luck of meeting my placement officer and stiffing him on drinks. ooops. (I lived in DC. Drinking with PC staff isn´t normal and/or all that accepted)

Invitation: Again, patience is a virtue. Check your online toolkit and if it says it´s in the mail (which is just plain cruel) but you haven´t gotten it in two weeks or so...call the office.

And then the fun begins!

Packing: I only weigh 100lbs soaking wet so this produced some additional problems. You are not going to be able to bring everything you own. You will have to leave stuff home and you will live. Lotsa people say to bring fewer clothes than you think you need. I didn´t really follow that rule but I didn´t have many electronics. Wanna know what I brought for a tropical/freezing cold country? jeans, two khakis, three dress pants, two sweaters, three light weight sweaters, fleece, boots, two dress shoes, sneakers, tevas, flippies, bathing suit, shitload of socks and undies, 5 long sleeve ts, four tanks, 3 collared shirts, 4 short sleeved ts, sweatshirt, hat, gloves, baseball cap, two nalgenes, ipod, solar charger, flash drive, photos, journal, addie book, sewing kit, travel toiletries, 5 books including spanish-english dictionary, raincoat and pants, combination lock, small backpack, alarm clock, sleeping bag and liner, head lamp and extra batteries and bulbs, flashlight, batteries, duct tape, leatherman, 2 boxes of granola bars....all in one extended trip pack and rolling duffle.
All of this I could have bought in country. The items in red were essentials for me. Don´t bring white undies or socks. The solar charger doesn´t work. T-shirts are a dime a dozen here and I wish I had slippers, a thermarest, and an ipod charger. The medical office doesn´t give you tampons in the med kit. Pretty much everything else and the kitchen sink is included....condoms too. Although you may not get it the first day...so bring enough sunscreen, tylenol, tampons, and pepto for your first month.

I know I was worried about:
food: The food isn´t awful in Bolivia. Lotsa pasta, meat, and potatoes and sometimes unidentifiable organ meat. Where I live veggies are readily available
illnesses: Haven´t been drastically ill yet. Diahrea is mostly normal. The med office is spectacular.
language: Work your little ass off. Speak to everyone you can. The training staff is spectacular. But some days you will want to crawl into a little English-speaking hole.
being left to fend for myself: after three months of being watched, this takes some getting used to...but yooooooou can doooooooo it!
living conditions: I have a flush toilet and a cold shower in my OWN bathroom, big room, cook for myself.

Best advice: talk to someone who is a current/returned volunteer. It is OK if you hate being a volunteer and want to go home. Several spectacular people from our group have decided that Peace Corps is not for them and we still love them. Be patient and flexible.

Not sure this was helpful. But it depends.

Peace Corps doesn´t allow prosletyzing

So this may be the direct result of working with an Adventist organization who start the day with a prayer but I thought I would share the following with y´all. I thought it was inspirational and directly related to my current experiences.

St. Theresa's Prayer

May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

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Otherwise, today I met the director and teachers at a nearby school and was given some tasks to complete in their schoolyard garden, and relating to garbage disposal. I also went to the Distrital Educativa but the Director, like everyone else in my town, went to the campo. Tomorrow I, like everyone else in my town, am going to the campo to meet some more teachers and see what sort of programs my organization has set up there. I´m actually quite excited about this because my lack of transportation has prevented me from working where I´m really needed.

That is one of the things about my Peace Corps experience thus far (three weeks) that bothers me. I for one am not working with people who really need help (that I´ve discovered). I do realize that I have the benefit of an American education that has allowed me certain experiences and advantages that I can use to help people here. Things that I don´t even think about such as experiential education, different perspectives, view towards women etc. But I was kind of expecting a stereotypical campo experience, with no electricity or water, where little children follow me around all day, huge and exotic insects, and I have to explain my prescence every few minutes.

Instead I have electricity (unless they´re bloqeo-ing) and water (before 7PM) in a pretty well-off town of 3000 with several other gringos. And every few weekends I can go to the only five star hotel in Bolivia and eat and swim to my heart´s content. Although in my hotel (not the five star one) there was the largest spider I have ever seen. I got someone else to kill it but he only succeeded in amputating three legs. The rest of the spider was nowhere to be found, a situation I was not satisfied with. I changed rooms.

I´m not sure I can explain how my expectations and experiences compare.

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If anyone cares I have not shaved my legs in three weeks and unfortunately my genes have conspired to give me Jewish leg hair on Irish legs which as of yet doesn´t grow in the same direction. I am not feeling empowed by my defiance of American ideals of beauty. Simply hairy.

Also whoever stole my flipflops I will hunt you down.

I got work done!

I´d like to direct your attention to the link on your right "Recursos de educación ambiental." I wrote up (and translated) most of the EE games that I know. They haven´t been proofread and may insult your monkey´s uncle but it´s a start. (Because I sure as heck amn´t doing work at the moment)

In other news, last night I went out with coworkers and associated spouses. I met a person my own age! who isn´t married! and is a woman! Really a red letter day in a country where the first question they ask is whether you have a spouse/kids. The second questions are usually about either religion, Iraq, September 11, teaching English, or New York City. The topics that make me squirm.

Things I love-hate-amamusedby in Bolivia*

--It amuses me that Bolivians seem to have super human hearinh Someone can merely whisper to catch a bus or taxi. And yet they play the radio and TV at a volume loud enough to wake the dead. Perhaps only maestros have the power of super-hearing.

--I hate that people pee outdoors especially when there is an indoor bathroom readily available.

--I thus far STONGLY DISLIKE gringo pricing and bargaining.

--I love that there are no less than three stalls in the Cancha (big huge market in Cochabamba) dedicated to buttons. You can sell anything ont he street here. It is however sad that people need to resort to selling limonada and globos because they are underemployed.

--I love that sitting in the plaza doing nothing is an acceptable, and even required, activity.

--I love that Bolivian children are so darn cute.

I hate that there are no comfortable chairs.

--I am amused that people cross the street to stay in the shade. This does nothing to aggravate the already existing traffic patterns, Although I find it charming that drivers adapt a pack mentality, disregarding both lane dividers and traffic signals in Coch and Tarija, I find it absolutely petrifying in Santa Cruz. I also like that horns are used to communicate, "Hey! Look! I´m crossing an intersection!"

--I love saying "¿no ve?" after every sentence and people who can only say "Good morning beautiful" in English and insist on saying it whatever time of day it is.

--I´m not sure of my feelings that everyone and their mother plays the trumpet here..and at all hours of the night but I love parades.

*This column, hereafter to be referred to as TILHAABIB is modeled after one that I wrote in my more sentimental days about a certain (now ex) boyfriend. There will be further, markedly less sentimental items about Bolivia in the future.

Easter etc.

Easter was interesting. Apparently the Good Friday tradition is to hike just high enough up the mountains so that your lungs explode and then then take a frosty cold dip in the river. I could not partake in the bathing part because I had a pretty wicked cold. (The cold also prevented me from doing my laundry because doing laundry would make me lose my voice according to some weird Bolivian mom logic.) On Saturday we had our host family fiesta which was less than fun. It was hot, unorganized, and the food was bad. I´m not just whining- my family didn´t enjoy theselves either. Afterwards the volunteers chilled in the plaza and people watched. The highlight was a group of drag queens. Then we ran into Cesar (my tech trainer) and his brothers at a dance club and I stayed out until curfew. Not after. And definitely not until 5AM. On Easter Sunday my family tried to kill me. I was just humbly minding my own business when Abuelita invited me to partake in some chicha. For the unitiatied chicha is an alcoholic corn brew whose fermentation somehow involves spit and poop. Lets just say I spilled out a lot for Pachamama. I was also fed strawberries (which can give me brainworm..but worth it!), made to play soccer in my sandals (and I lost), and forced to listen to the screaming cholita music (which I can only explain as unneccesarily loud noise). In exchange for the Good Friday tradition I tried to explain the tradition of easter socks (thanks Mary!) and I hid Easter eggs for the kiddos.

All 29 of us swore in on April 13th which I hear is pretty darn rare.

I am currently at my site settling in. I couldn´t find my coworker at all this week so let´s just say that my room is now really organized, I read a lot, and sat in the plaza for long amounts of time. Three people have compimented my Spanish. Five have asked me to teach English and about thirty have tried to cheat me on the price of fruit. I also met the world´s tallest Bolivian. He had previously been just a rumor of a man described to me as ¨having the height of a gringo." He is actually quite tall...almost 7ft.

The Site Visit

Greetings from southern Bolivia! I´m here giving my site a test run before I commit to living here for 2 years...or am committed. My site is north of the city of Tarija about 6 hours by flota...and let me tell you it´s quite a trip.

The 8 of us Tarija volunteers flew here last Sunday and were greeted in the airport by a bunch of screaming hippies who whisked us to a hotel and promptly took us out to partake in festivities. Unfortunately the best steak house in Tarija was closed but I was content with my ketchup pizza and ice cream. (See guys they have ice cream here! And it´s good!) AFTER finishing my pizza I was told that there was an actual-real-live Italian place down the road. We went there the next night and it was good although I think that maybe my standards are slipping. Sorry to keep talking about food. I actually dreamt about Cheerios a few nights ago. But my site has a Gringo mart stocked with Grape Nuts so maybe one day Cheerios will come too. Either way I´ve gotten used to drinking yogurt and have been served cow intestine twice this week. Going against my motto (I´ll try anything twice) I didn´t touch it either time. Just couldn´t.

Speaking of dreams. I hate malaria medicine and only have one more week of it. Hooray!

So anyway, on Monday we had counterpart day where we met our work partners and learned what they expected of us. I will be working with an Adventist NGO here who does stuff like land use, environment and health, and natural resources. Apparently I am expected to work in the vivero (tree nursery). The counterpart meeting also consisted of enumerating the rules of Peace Corps (no motorcycle, no coca, no sexual harrassment) and a brief explanation of American culture (sometimes we like to be alone and read) which my counterpart repeated to my other coworkers at least twenty times the next day. This is awkward because he also told everyone not to greet me in the traditional Bolivian way (kiss or campo hug which is like handshake-pat on the side-handshake). Anywho, the counterparts, my closest gringa neighbor (who also works for them), and I rode up together. (It is 4 hours by car including seeking the perfect location to pee and a lime-aid break)

What does it look like you ask? Leaving the city of Tarija we just went up and up and up the mountains on this narrow dirt-ish road that kept doubling back. My counterpart pointed out every location where a drunken bus driver went over the cliff but I only thought I was going to die once. It looks rather like the Southwest of the US (cliffs of red rock). It is not what I pictured Bolivia to look like. It is very dry, the vegetation is scrubby, and dust is now the fourth food group. So when we got to the site we had lunch, my buddy missed her bus and so we got introduced to everyone and their mother at the NGO. Then we all drove up to her site. (This is when I thought I´d die) She lives higher than I do in a similar sized city. I use city in a loose sense. There are only about 7000 people here but it´s not campo.

So the area is famous for beef and wine. I actually know which cow my intestines came from because the tree nursery is located just above the cow-killing place. I´ve been warned that this may cause an icky odor. Anywhoo on Wednesday I met everyone in the vivero. It was one of those days that I´m pretty sure I only understood half of what went on. I think my counterpart said that I can´t come to work drunk but that he and the guy in the mayor´s office are Catholic so if I wanna stay out until 3am on the weekend I can go with them and their wives. I am also pretty sure that he told everyone that I´m fluent and to not treat me like an idiot. Oh he did mention that if they weren´t nice to me then I would go back to my country...and of course he reminded everyone of the the Peace Corps rules.

Thursday and Friday I worked in the vivero. I have learned a few things. Bolivians don´t sweat. They may say they sunburn but also not true. Sometimes my ladies (I work with 3 diff ladies a day who get paid in food) bring goats to work. They are also totally capable of breast feeding and shoveling at the same time. Today I felt my work could be done by a trained monkey (or maybe if we trained the goats). My ladies and I folded, filled, and poked holes in about 400 plastic bags, gathered a ton of molla seeds and planted about half of them. This is good to know as I´ll be sure to seek out work in the schools or offering planting workshops.

I leave you with this: Telenovelas are like Shakespeare. They always involve drama and mistaken identity. They feature a wiser-than-he-seems fool. And I only understand about 1-3 of it.

Tomorrow I get to sit outside at 5AM waiting for a flota back to Tarija, carrying two liters of vinegar for my Peace Corps boss.