Today we pack our things (again!), turn our psychic compasses northward, and begin moving home. We depart Oruro at 4pm for La Paz where in the morning we catch the first of 4 airplanes for home.
I´ve been asked several times in recent days, ¨Do you like Bolivia.¨ This is not a question that lends itself to a simple answer. I´ll ramble for a moment, then get back to it.
Two nights ago, I walked back to my guest home from a reception about 8 blocks away, here near the center of the city. I quickly learned that at the midnight hour, the city belongs to the dogs. Dozens of them roam the streets and sidewalks, rooting through garbage for scraps of food, playing with each other, fighting for territory, and initiating reproduction. They are generally placid, almost oblivious to humans, and they instinctively scurry away from oncoming cars. Some appear healthy and look like they would be great pets while others are completely unkempt.
Yesterday, I roamed several of the city´s outdoor markets in search of souveniers and a replacement pair of Tiva sandals. The search for sandals was unsuccessful, but otherwise the journey was great fun. My Spanish skills are still entirely lacking, but I found that with patience on the part of the vendor I could negotiate purchases and find things I was looking for. Everything was extraordinarily inexpensive, like cloth wallets for $1.80 and fiber-pile jackets for $8.00 American. The markets are a bee-hive of activity, with incredible amounts of inventory packed into tight spaces. Shoppers bounce shoulders with one another and jockey for room to walk. In the rare areas where the walking space is 10-feet wide or more, often a car will crawl along at walking space, vying for access with the pedestrians. At one point, the bright, low sun pounded my eyes, casting a surreal glow over the stacks of merchandise and overhead canopies.
Last night, the Rotary Convention hosted what was essentially a talent competition. Each club throughout the district offered a performance of song or dance, either on stage or on a dance floor surrounded by draped tables and chairs. Ostensibly to begin around 8:30, nothing happened until past 10:00 when the room jumped to life. An announcer with a radio-quality voice brought team after team to the floor where they danced, pounded drums, and waved flags, while wearing elaborate costumes of their cultural areas. It was obvious that team members practiced many hours in preparation for the competition. We were served a snack of fried chicken and French fries in a basket, but the meal was secondary to the entertainment. This revelry continued until past midnight when I slipped away into the cold night, headed for my host home.
So do I like Bolivia? There is a peculiar mix of sangfroid and exuberance that is appealing, frustrating, and curious. These folks are absolutely generous and friendly, and they have treated us with enormous kindness. Even with those I cannot communicate, the fondness and sincerity is overflowing. The food has been plentiful and fresh, with exotic fruit juices and vegetables. The scenery is varied and beautiful. But the poverty is pervasive and the needs of the people are enormous: in education, health, sanitation, and opportunity.
I stare out the window from my host´s desk upon 2-story buildings of crumbling stucco, mazes of electrical wires, and clay and tin roof tiles, wondering if I´ll ever return here. The world is full of fascinating places and there are more to explore. But none are more fascinating than Bolivia.
Many of the Rotarians I´ve met have asked that I go to the clubs in America and ask for assistance with their vital work in helping their countrymen live safer, healthier, and more successful lives. As part of our obligation to Rotary, my team members and I will be visiting with clubs and presenting stories of our travels. I hope we will find lots of open wallets to help repay the wonderful people of Bolivia for the kindnesses they have shown us.
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