Me? I’m a simple man, a small town family man. I love my small town. People drive with courtesy, in marked traffic lanes. People leave their doors unlocked when they’ll only be away for a short time. I awake with the sunrise, never setting an alarm clock. I go to my office by 8:30 a.m. I pack a lunch which I eat at my desk. I come home at 5:30 and have supper by 6:00 p.m. with my wife. I drink a dark beer. I go for a walk in the evening, 5 to 10 kilometers, with one of my dogs. I shower and go to bed by 10:15 p.m.

I am in Bolivia.

In Bolivia, my life isn’t like this.

In Bolivia, people drive with sort of a cooperative aggression. I think they go to work, and they must get up in the morning, because they are up during the day. They eat lunch from noon until 3:00 p.m. What I mean is not that they start eating at noon or any time until 3:00 p.m., but that lunch takes three hours. They often eat a snack at 5:00 p.m. They socialize until 8:00 p.m. Or 9:00 p.m. Or 10:00 p.m. They drink lots of wine. Last night’s dinner was served around 10:30 p.m. Or was it 11:00 p.m.? By then, my eyes are drooping. I smile a wan smile and implore to my hosts, “Estoy consado” (I’m tired) and hope they are not offended. Within a short time, like an hour, a grouping of hosts form to preliminarily think about how I might be delivered back to my host home.

I write this post at 8:30 a.m. According to the itinerary our hosts have given us, we are to visit a hospital this morning, departing at 8:00 a.m. My hostess is evidently still asleep. I have no idea who will pick me up or take me to the team gathering point.

It is an amazing life here in Bolivia!