Michael: Exploring La Paz

La Paz is a most unlikely city. Over a million people live in this high elevation bowl. Another near million live on the flats above the rim in a new city called El Alto near the highest general aviation airport in the world.
Pedro (leader of the team from Bolivia to our district) joined us on a tour of the city yesterday morning. We rode around in a London-style double-decker bus listening to a recording in English of the city’s founding and most important buildings. We stopped to take photos at an overlook with a great view. Renzo Loza and Nicholas Zalles joined us as well, along with a woman named Joanne who was a host to one of them back home in Virginia. She has come here for a week-long visit.
Few places in the city look to be flat, but the canyon rims surrounding the city are particularly steep. Nevertheless, habitations in brick cling to all but the most precarious slopes. In most cities of similar topography, the richer people live away from the noise and crowds on the surrounding hillsides, but here they live closer to the city center in the lowest elevations. The reason, we’re told, is that the center city is warmer and more temperate.
Doug and I returned to our guest home where we let ourselves in with the pair of keys I’ve been given. One key is for the perimeter wall and the other is for the front door. Virtually all the homes we’ve stayed in have some sort of perimeter wall (The exception was my first in Santa Cruz that was in a gated community.). Most walls are 10 feet high or so, made of masonry and/or steel, with heavy steel doors. Walls are topped with spikes, strings of barbed wire, or broken glass bottle shards to discourage anyone from trying to climb over them. The glass shard topped walls of course glisten with color in the sun. We’re told that unprotected homes can be cleaned out entirely in short order.
Last evening, we hung out with Renzo, as he drove us around his neighborhood in the south part of the city. We stopped at a couple of overlooks, which are numerous due to the rugged topography. He spoke of the antics of his youth, getting in trouble with his mates. Then we joined Nic and two friends at the food court of a shopping mall. It was a clean, modern facility that looked just like those in the States except seemingly everyone had dark hair and spoke Spanish. Renzo and Nic said they had interviewed with a company from Lynchburg during their stay in our district and if offers came through planned to seriously consider accepting them.
I sat up late talking with my host. His English isn’t very good and my Spanish isn’t very good, but we managed to have a nice chat. He has an elaborate bar and has asked me many times to have a whiskey before bedtime, so I drank a glass of bourbon and Sprite. Only after he’d fixed mine did he say that he didn’t drink himself. He had a late snack of left-overs from our lunchtime meal. During the course of the conversation he mentioned that his wife’s father had once been president of Bolivia. Surprises are everywhere.

With our tall friend Mr. Christ in Cochabamba

Michael: Wishing for the good things at home

I suppose it’s true for anyone who travels. There always seems to be one day when in spite of all the fun, exploration, and discovery, there comes a day when a traveler really, and I mean REALLY wants to be home – home where friends, family, and familiarity are. This morning this happened to me.
I awoke with – How you say in your country? – a loose stool. Yes, diarrhea. We were scheduled for a 7-hour bus ride from Cochabamba to La Paz. I took my second testimonial 45-minutes later at the bus terminal, paying the equivalent of $0.13 for the privilege of crouching over a seat-less toilet and for a strip of toilet paper. I hoped all would be well and with my team I boarded the bus.
Around about an hour later, and I don’t want to get too graphic here, liquidy things in my midsection began to assert themselves. Now mind you, we were on a modern, double-decker Mercedes coach bus. So I wandered down the stairway and asked for the baño, only to be told that there wasn’t one (or that the one the bus had didn’t work). “How long to the rest stop?” “Tres horas.” Ho-my-gosh!
I returned to my seat to contemplate my fate. A Bruce Willis action film came on the monitors, the volume on high, dubbed and sub-titled both in Spanish. Now mind you, the movie system worked but the bathroom didn’t.
I tried to take in the scenery outside the window, which was spectacular, as the road climbed steadily further than I ever thought possible, gaining thousands of feet in elevation. The slight headache that often accompanies rapid movement towards high altitudes competed for my attention with the grumbling in my gut. Minutes passed like hours as I dreamed of clean restrooms back in the good old USA, with all the toilet paper anybody could ever use and actual toilet seats. I was as uncomfortable as I have been in a long, long time.
The movie mercifully ended and the road leveled out to the Altiplano, the high plain, which is characteristic of Bolivia. Finally, the bus turned into the dirt parking lot of a “rest area,” a restaurant flanked by men’s and women’s bathrooms in outbuildings, where I was never so happy to pay $0.13 again to relieve my pain.
As we continued on, we were treated to an even more violent movie (I didn’t know there was such a thing) but by now I was able to read a book and look out the window at the emerging snow-capped giant mountains. We hit the outskirts of La Paz 45-minutes before arriving at the bus terminal where we were met by Pedro Loza, the leader of the inbound team. It was a good sign that the happy times would renew.

Michael: Talking just a wee bit of poltics

At home night before last, I talked with Jaime on a variety of subjects, including the political turmoil that has always plagued his country. The cocaine trade is widespread and pernicious. The president of the country, Evo Morales, is also the head of the coca grower’s union, a clear conflict of interest. The tenure of most Bolivian presidents is ridiculously short and Morales’ popularity has plunged in recent months, perhaps portending his political end.
Yesterday, the talk turned political again. One of our hosts took us to a private day care center founded by her cousin. In conversation after the tour, the cousin said that the government of Bolivia frequently changes the rules with regards to regulations over schools, day care, and similar facilities. Worse than that, businesses are often “nationalized” by the government. What that means, as I understand it, is that the government confiscates “for the people” the assets of big bad corporations – and sometimes everyday people – the things they’ve invested in, such as the wells, pipelines, and refineries of major oil companies.
Morales espouses the rights of indigenous people who widely support him. He is an uneducated man, completing only 4th grade. Elected by a huge majority, the plunge in Morales’ popularity is a result of his handling of things like fuel cost policies and worker strikes. People here have said he is a pawn to Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez, who has been a constant thorn in the side of the United States. On a more positive note, Morales has become a hero to the worldwide environmental movement in placing into the Bolivian constitution laws that recognize the inherent rights of natural things. (See: http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/apr/10/bolivia-enshrines-natural-worlds-rights) This all seems well and good, but how it plays out in the potential transition of this country into the modern world remains to be seen. Jaime, who worked lived for more than half his life in the United States, admitted ruefully that his native country was 100 years behind the US.
Obviously, it is a huge disincentive to any corporation or entrepreneur to invest in anything with the constant threat that the government might step in and take it. I have made many personal investments in my business life and while I’m always at the mercy of the vicissitudes of the marketplace, at least I’m not worried about my government taking everything from me. Our host for the day said she owned a business with other family members that continued to invest in Bolivia, but admitted that sometimes it stretched their better judgment to do so.
The United States certainly has its share of political problems, but they seem to pale against Bolivia’s. I look up from my window and another beautiful day unfolds in Cochabamba. Parrots perch on the trees and sing about the new day. Oranges grow on the trees in the yard and flamboyant bird of paradise plants unfold their blossoms. What a paradise this country could be! Constant vigilance on the part of every citizenry is essential to the maintenance of a just and equitable political system.

Anne: Having a voice

Today has been an interesting day particulary because I spent a lot of time hearing about a freedom fighter from the 50s and 60s. He spent most of his teenage years and twenties fighting against a government that he did not agree with. He spent numerous times in prisons and could have died fighting for a Bolivia that he believed in. So, to make a long story short, I started thinking about speaking up for myself like he did. One thing I´ve learned here is that if you don´t speak the language you don´t have a voice. Either you don´t speak at all or what you try to say gets lost in translation. This trip has taught me that knowing one language is not adequate for the world I want to live in. I enjoy speaking and sharing my ideas. I enjoy making connections with the new friends I´ve made. I want to learn more Spanish to be a better communicator.

Also, the other way I want to share finding a voice is through speaking up for what you or I believe in. It doesn´t have to be through freedom fighting, but can be from simply knowing what you want and going for it. I´ve spent too much time sitting back and observing. I want to take charge and do something for my community and/or society. That is how I want to find my voice. I know it´s random, but I felt that today was profound for me. =)

Tamsen: Bolivian Culture

For the past three weeks we have had the opportunity to experience Bolivian customs and culture. There are parts of the culture that I really love and were easy to adjust to while other parts have been more difficult for me.

One part of the Bolivian culture that I really enjoy is that everytime somebody enters a group of people each person in the group is greeted individually. Women greet men or other women with a kiss on one cheek or two. Men greet each other with a handshake. As a part of the greeting each person says in Spanish, ¨Hello, how are you?¨ or ¨Nice to meet you¨. In our culture when we walk up to a group of people one ¨Hello¨ is a sufficient way to greet a room full of people. The Bolivian way is much more personal. The custom validates the importance of each relationship. The same rituals are repeated when it is time to leave. Along with the kiss or handshake each person says ¨Goodbye¨ or ¨See you later¨ to each person individually.

Becoming accustomed to Bolivian food has been the hardest part of the culture for me. Bolvians eat a lot of meat, potatoes, bread, rice and soup. Everything is freshly prepared and full of flavor. At home I do not take the time to prepare such delicious meals. Unfortunately, my stomach is not used to the quantity of meat that I am served here and I find myself wishing I could give up the elegant meals for some of the simple foods that I am accustomed to. I find myself longing for a day of eating yogurt, fruit and pizza along with a glass of skim milk.

Michael: Settling in Cochabamba

We are now settled in our new city, Cochabamba. All of us love it here, for a variety of reasons The city has a beautiful natural setting, in a V shaped valley surrounded by mountains large and small. Thee are many trees and much greenery, both convential and exotic. At the airport when we met our new host families, we could quickly see that they were organized, and fluent in English. They made us feel right at thome and helped us forget the unpleasantness of the prior day's episode at the roadblock. My hosts are Jaime and Patricial Portugal. They live in one of the most stupendous houses I've ever entered. The exterior is a tasteful yellow stucco with multiple roof-lines of adobe tile. There are multiple storeys and each has an outdoor patio or sitting area. The rooms and hallways have magnificient artwork and many of the windows have custom stained glass panels. My bathroom and bedroom are lit by chandeliers. Like many guys, Jaime's prized possession sits in the garage: a 1951 Chevrolet Pickup truck, in mint condition. Jaime was born in La Paz, but educated in the USA where he spent most of his career in veterinary nutrition, helping farmers obtain the maximum yield from pork, beef, and chicken production. He is a kidney transplant recipient, and like many people who have faced pre-matrue death but given a new lease on life, has devoted his considerable energies towards people in need. He worked tirelessly to deliver potable water to a nearby peasant village where the groundwater was polluted. He is working now to provide restorative services to children with clef lips and clef palates. In the morning yesterday, Jaime took me to a nearby outdoor stadium to watch the finals of a professional beach volleyball tournament. The American women won with a vicctory of the host Bolivian team. The American men lost to the Brazilian team. It was exciting! Quite coincidentally, we seated oruselves in front of some fans waving a large American Flag and word has it that we were on international ESPN TV. I learned that Anne was also there as one of the Bolivian playwers was the daughter of her hosts! After lunch, I joined the team for a tour of the town. Our hosts, a tourism professor at the college in town and Judah's host Ferdinand, took us first to a hilltop on the east of the city where a 400-meter statue of Jesus stands. From there, we were treated to a magnificient view of the city and the surrounding mountains. We descended the hill into the downtown where we strolled the traditional town square. Our hosts bought a selection of nuts from one of the indigenous women vendors selling from a cart. We finished the afternoon at an outdoor ice cream parlor where we all feasted on homemade ice cream in exotic flavors. Across the roundabout, there is one of the city's major cathedrals. At one point, a parade of worshippers walked the street towards the cathedral, carrying and waving palm fronds. Several men carried a platform atop which was a figure of a white mule, atop which was a figure of Jesus, covered with a long purple robe. A Brass band took up the rear, playing a Simon and Garfunkel tune. Fire crackers went off in the street. Gotta run!