Thursday, March 31, 2011

We have arrived

We have now been in Bolivia for just over 24 hours and what a full and exhausting experience it has already been!

All our flights were on time. The longest leg from Miami to La Paz was overnight, and sitting upright, I failed to get any sleep at all. Although other team members seemed to sleep well, it was frustrating for me to watch them snooze.

In La Paz, the airplane was thoroughly checked by uniformed security people, running gloved hands in and around the seats, seat-backs, and overhead compartments.

We arrived on time at the Santa Cruz airport where Nicolas Zalle of the Bolivian team to our district helped us through customs and immigration where we purchased visas. The clerk carefully and unhurriedly looked over each bill for authenticity (we were required to pay in cash) before he counted them. For inexplicable reasons, Anne’s luggage didn’t arrive with everyone else’s, so she had to fill out the requisite paperwork and was instructed to return today to see if a miracle had occurred in the meantime and the missing suitcase could be properly delivered.

We were met by most gracious Rotary hosts at the airport, where we did our best to smile and project happy demeanors through tired eyes. Each of us was shuttled off to our various home stays.

My host is Marlene de Giannotti, a lovely and attractive single mother of two boys, Gabriel and Leonardo. Marlene studied at colleges in the United States and the boys go to an American school, so all of them speak perfect English. Marlene has a beautiful, immaculate home in a gated community. It is a two-storey building with many rooms having balconies above. There are tasteful, artistic, and interesting nick-nacks on every surface. Flamboyant artwork is on many walls, signed “Giannotti” and I am yet to learn which family member is the artist.

Her two maids brought me breakfast and I took a shower and a short nap before rejoining my team at a restaurant closer to the city center.

As Marlene drove me there, I began to get a sense of the nature of city traffic and driving here. “Chaotic” isn’t a strong enough word to describe the frantic, hysterical, haphazard movement of cars and people. There are no lane markers to speak of and drivers aggressively fight their way into the most modest spaces. At intersections with stop lights, people walk between cars holding spray bottles of cleaner and rags, wiping motorists’ windows for tips. Others sell soft drinks and snacks. At one intersection, two people performed acrobatics on a mat in front of a long line of vehicles. I was surprised by how few cars had dents or bruises, given the madness.

The restaurant was a bustling, loud place with several interconnected rooms all largely exposed to the pleasant outside air. A portable grill was delivered to our table where steaks and sausages fried. There were plates of hot salsas and bowls of tomato based salads. A woman brought a stack of sombreros, placed them on our heads, and took photos of us, returning later with commemorative prints.

We departed in three cars for our safari of the day. We drove out of the city, I believe in a southwesterly direction. (I do my best to be aware of my spatial surroundings and be cognizant of compass directions, but here in the Southern Hemisphere, so far I’m flummoxed. If it’s afternoon and the sun is over there, then which way is north?) Roads soon turned from pavement to dirt and we bounced along for many kilometers until we reached the weekend home of Jorge, one of our Rotary hosts. Jorge is an architect of commercial buildings in the city and is clearly very successful. The home was spacious, surrounded by palm trees and bird-of-paradise plants. There was a beautiful swimming pool in the back yard. Judah pulled a cocoanut from one of the trees and Jorge’s grounds-keeper sliced it to the core with a machete, allowing us to drink the cocoanut milk inside.

We then drove to an area where many indigenous people were living subsistence lives. There was an infirmary, a church, and a school. The infirmary had five rooms, each for various purposes including gynecology and birthing, dental examinations, pharmacy, general health, and administration. It had neither heat nor air conditioning, and it was hot inside. It was staffed by two women, apparently one a doctor and the other a nurse. There was mildew on some walls and flaking paint.

Jorge’s wife had designed the church, which was beautiful yet simple. A large sanctuary had massive timber beams overhead. Jorge said a local carpenter had made the wooden pews and he was still making more. A large metal sculpture of Jesus lay on the floor, awaiting wall mounting.

The school had several small buildings built in brick. The classrooms were tiny with old wooden desks. We were told by one of the teachers that there were 12 teachers and a principal for 230 students. There was one bathroom for each gender with one commode each, situated in an outside building. Jorge said that he and his wife had donated the church, he along with his Rotary Club had donated the clinic, and they largely funded the school. Many children were playing on a paved playground, kicking a soccer ball into goals that had basketball nets above.

It was nearing what I normally consider dinnertime (6:00 p.m.) when we stopped by a factory where sugar is processed. We had hoped to take a tour, but it was closed for the day. The area around it was indescribably poor, with children of all ages playing ball, riding bicycles, or simply sitting in the dirt.

We bounced along for many more kilometers on our way back to the city. At one point, we were directed off the main road grade to a parallel grade, while workers were putting down new cement pavement on the main grade. Even at this late hour of the day, workers were toiling with wet cement largely with hand tools.

We crossed a long, one-lane bridge over the local river. Back home, our rivers have the decency of staying largely within defined banks. This river was shallow and muddy, meandering over drifting flats.

We finally reached a paved 4-lane highway towards the city. Traffic, including buses and trucks, barreled along briskly with passing done on both sides or wherever possible. There were clumps of people lining the road, wandering or chatting with friends, or risking their lives dashing across from one side to the other.

I was taken to the home of Rotarian German Suarez where his son, also named German, lent me his bed for a quick nap. German Jr. had accompanied us throughout the afternoon and helped Tamsen and Judah translate much of what we were told for me.

We all gathered again at the American Hotel near downtown Santa Cruz for the weekly meeting of their club. Dinner of ground steak, gravy, and mushrooms, accompanied with French fries and rice, was placed before me just before 9:00p.m. We did our presentation for the club, which I’ll describe in more detail later, and were taken home to our hosts by 11:00 p.m., exhausted.

Our itinerary had a complete schedule for the following day, but we were told that everything had been cancelled except our dinner meeting at one of the city’s other Rotary Clubs.

This morning as I compile these notes on my laptop in Marlene’s formal dining room, the two maids are scrubbing an already spotless house, the boys are apparently in school, and Marlene is napping upstairs. I plan to spend much of the day studying Spanish, eagerly trying to improve my ability to interact with my hosts during the rest of the trip.

Michael

Sunday, March 27, 2011

communicating home

It’s amazing where the world has gone in recent years with regards to communication.

In less than 48 hours, we will be on our way to Bolivia on our GSE experience. Rotary has been conducting these trips for decades, but years ago, the teams had little contact with home. A dozen years ago, a friend led a team to South Africa. From what he told me, Apartheid was still in force and racial problems were rife. Things are different now with global communication.

Our district has two teams this year. The other arrived in Tasmania yesterday. Within hours, they had posted their arrival on Facebook and their blog making the news available to anyone with a computer on earth.

I just bought a new laptop computer to take along. I’ll be able to use it to picture-phone home via Skype. All of us can update this blog.

What remains to be seen is how prevalent Internet service will be. We’ll soon know.

Michael

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Preparations continue

We leave in a dozen days for Bolivia.
Spring is just beginning here. Plants are poking through the soil and birds have returned from their migration. When we arrive in Bolivia, it will be autumn, heading into winter. At noon, the sun will be in the northern sky, not the southern. It will be weird.
Last weekend, I attended the annual conference of our Rotary district, 7570, at the Homestead Resort in Hot Springs. We listened to several inspiring speakers, including the vice-president of Rotary, Monty Audenart, from Canada. A dentist by profession, Dr. Audenart had performed dental services in many dirt-poor countries around the world, including Bangladesh. His stories had a profound impact on me, especially considering the opulent setting of the Homestead where I sat, listening.
I'm making lists of what still needs to be gathered and packed. I'm accelerating my Spanish language training. I posted a notice on Facebook about our impending departure and many friends have responded with well-wishes. I'm getting excited!