Back in the USA

I’ve been back in the U.S. for several weeks now, but here is a recap of my final weeks in South America and what’s to come:

After we had all presented our independent study projects and said our goodbyes, my Dad flew down for a few weeks of good ol’ father-daughter traveling. We spent a few days in Cochabamba staying with my homestay family, visiting the city’s biggest market (la Cancha) and attending a La Paz vs. Cochabamba soccer match. The game was wild... complete with fireworks, outrageous chants and riot police. We spent a day in La Paz and somehow managed to walk by the presidential palace as Evo Morales and Vice President García Linera walked out the doors. Then we headed to Puno, Peru and visited several islands off the coast in Lake Titicaca. First stop was at the Islas Flotantes (Floating Islands) of the Uros people. They were originally constructed by the Uros to escape an Incan invasion on the mainland and have survived to this day largely due to tourism. It was fascinating to walk on the teetering reed structures and observe their way of life, but the whole experience also seemed fairly inauthentic to me. While I would rather leave this community to itself and removed from western influence, it is hard to come to that conclusion when their current livelihood mostly comes from tourism. After three more hours on the boat we stopped for lunch of trout and king fish on Isla Taquile, where they were holding a ceremony to bring forth a good harvest. Finally, we ended up at Isla Amantaní for a one-night homestay. We had a great time walking about the island at sunset, talking with the family in the kitchen and watching the donkeys bring in loads of harvested fava beans.


Next, we headed up to Cuzco to begin our marathon tour of Incan ruins. The city itself was very fun to explore, despite the crazy amounts of tourists roaming about. We were able to meet up for dinner with my cousin Emma and her boyfriend Matt who have been traveling all over South America since February. It was great to see them and hear their tips on attractions around the area. We visited the Incan water temple, Sauksayhuaman (or “sexy woman”, as American tourists call it), Moray, the Salineras de Maras, Ollantaytambo, Machu Picchu, and some pre-Incan ruins too. The Salineras (Incan Salt Pans) were especially striking. The Incas diverted a salty spring into hundreds of rectangular plots, which they left to dry and then used the leftover salt to preserve meat. The site is still in use today, as families pass down their own plots to new generations. Machu Picchu was also incredible. The ruins are extremely impressive and well preserved but my favorite part was hiking to the top of Huayna Picchu for an amazing view of the ruins from above, the winding Río Urubamba below and the surrounding jungle. I even found Tom (a student from my program in Bolivia) at the top!



We spent our final day in Lima, the country’s capital along the Pacific Coast. Our ride on the city bus into downtown to find the main plaza was both hysterical and terrifying. The driver accelerated and braked so quickly and frequently that passengers were constantly falling over as they stood up to get off. Though I wasn’t a huge fan of Lima’s chaotic traffic and relentless smog, we definitely enjoyed the beautiful Spanish architecture and fresh ceviche!

After three wonderful weeks of family, friends, relaxing (and lots of hiking!) in Portland, I headed to Tucson, Arizona for an internship with Border Action Network. BAN is a non-profit organization that does a mixture of policy advocacy, litigation, and grassroots community organizing for immigrant and border communities throughout Southern Arizona. Most of our work so far has revolved around Senate Bill 1070, which is planned to take effect July 29th. The law will require police officers enforcing any state, county or municipal law or ordinance to determine the person's immigration status when there is reasonable suspicion he or she might be undocumented. I’ve been holding a number of “house parties” in the homes of our members to inform their friends and family members on the most relevant aspects of the law and how they can best protect themselves. The people have been extremely generous, inviting me to share meals with their families and go to church with them. I love these times when I’m getting to know the real people of the organization on an individual level. Using my Spanish on a daily basis is also a plus. I’ll try and keep you updated as things pick up throughout the summer.

The Final Stretch

Once again, apologies for the lack of updates. So much has happened since our return to La Paz! We visited Potosí, said to be the highest city in the world. One day we went down into the mines of the “cerro rico” (rich mountain), which essentially funded the entire Spanish empire with all its silver. During it’s glory days, it was the 3rd biggest country in the world, bigger than London, Paris, and New York. We visited the Casa de Moneda, which used to be one of three mints for the Spanish empire in Latin America. Now the city is fairly overrun by poverty, and it was hard to imagine it’s extravagant past. Going into the mines was especially memorable. The miners work all day, without breaking for lunch. Each mine has it’s own shrine of sorts to the “tio”, the so-called god of the mines, or underworld. They give him offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes, and extremely hard liquor as an exchange for taking his minerals. I was told that most miners die after ten to fifteen years of work, usually of the lung disease silicosis. Still, they seemed to have so much pride in their work. On the same excursion we also visited Sucre, called the white city because a municipal law requires all buildings to be painted white. It once was the country’s capital, but after the civil war with La Paz it was demoted to the position of judicial capital.
About two weeks ago we got back from Santa Cruz, the biggest and most modernized city in Bolivia. Recently the region has fought for autonomy from the rest of the country, since they believe they possess all the resources and income supporting Bolivia’s economy. Similarly, Cruceños (as Santa Cruz residents are called) are known to be somewhat racist and adverse to the increased role of indigenous peoples in Morales’ government. Santa Cruz is in the lowlands, which actually make up 2/3 of the country, though most people identify Bolivia with the Andes mountain range. Despite the intense heat and humidity, I enjoyed the slower pace of life that people seemed to live there. We talked to several groups about the massive problem of deforestation. The whole system of getting authorization to cut trees is so corrupt that all legislation addressing the issue has been pretty ineffective thus far.
Now I am working on my independent study project (ISP), which makes up the last month of the program. I’m currently living with a family in El Alto, the 80% Aymara and rapidly growing city above La Paz, studying the indigenous political organization CONAMAQ. That stands for the National Council of Ayllus and Markas of Qullasuyo. Ayllus and Markas are traditional forms of community authority structures that prevailed throughout the Andes prior to Spanish colonization. Qullasuyo is their traditional term for the entire nation of Bolivia. Basically, their overarching mission is to reconstitute these forms of traditional authority into the modern day political system. Since the beginning of the ISP period a week ago, I have visited the ayllu Bombo outside of Oruro and attended their community meeting about gaining legal rights to their land under the new constitution. I also made several visits to the CONAMAQ headquarters in La Paz and interviewed several representatives. This week I am back in Cochabamba for the “Peoples’ World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights”. I will be examining CONAMAQ’s proposals at the conference and how they correspond to Andean Cosmovision.
So far my most extraordinary experience has been observing the striking differences between the neighboring cities of La Paz and El Alto. For several days in a row, I would wake up early and catch a bus to the “ceja” (literally, eyebrow), the edge of El Alto that overlooks the valley rim down to the capital. It’s very hectic during the day, with large crowds of bustling people and buses constantly honking. Still it feels very desolate at times. All you can see in every direction is the same panorama of orange brick buildings, with hardly any greenery in sight. After the 45 minute ride from the ceja down into La Paz, you’re suddenly in a cosmopolitan city of people in business suits, skyscrapers, tourists, cafes, etc. So much more wealth.
Though El Alto is not the most inviting place to live, I’ve really come to like my family here. There are lots of people in and out all the time, and I’m still trying to figure out how everyone is related. Maria, the oldest daughter who takes care of me for the most part, is going to teach me to make salteñas when I get back from Cochabamba. These are the tastiest of Bolivian specialties, in my opinion. A tiny, football shaped pastry traditionally filled with a stew of chicken and/or beef, vegetables, potatoes, and usually an olive and hard-boiled egg. You can also find vegetarian varieties. They are sold all over the streets for a mid-day snack. It took me at least three times to master the art of eating a salteña without spurting juice all over myself. Apparently if you spill while eating salteñas with a group of people, you are expected to pay for everyone. My strategy is to hold it vertically, gently take a small bite out of the top corner, and (without slurping) drink the juice inside. From there on you can proceed with small bites.
That is all for now. Only three weeks left in the program and I can’t believe it! Hopefully I’ll get another post or two down before then. Love to all!

La Paz & Rural Homestay

Last night we returned from a nine-day excursion to La Paz and the Lake Titicaca region. We spent our first day exploring the ancient Aymaran ruins of Tiwanaku, 17km from the lake. This was the most ancient civilization in Bolivia, preexisting even the Incas. The site was not in pristine condition, but we definitely got a feel for the size of the Aymaran empire and their methods of worship. Archeologists have found that the enormous stone slabs at the site came from Peru, on the opposite side of the massive Lake Titicaca. Apparently they transported the stone blocks in boats made purely of reeds, paddled them across the lake, and then dug canals to float them over to Tiwanaku. A ridiculously cheesy movie we watched called it the “Stonehenge of South America”.

We spent the next three days in La Paz at 13,000 feet. It was great to be in a bigger city with more character and things to do. The city is packed into a valley beneath the rugged peak of Illimani, and thus appears incredibly dense from above. The steep cobblestone streets are similar to those in San Fransicsco, but much harder to climb given the altitude. One day we visited El Alto, an 80% Aymaran city that overlooks La Paz. It was founded in 1985 by immigrants from the nearby rural highlands (el altiplano) and now almost equals La Paz in size. I found it very interesting that La Paz’s poorest residents live in the highest parts, whereas the wealthiest neighborhoods are located deep into the valley in the ‘zona sur’. We all took advantage of the international cuisine available in the city, including Thai and Middle Eastern food. I maintained a strictly vegetarian diet while I had the chance because I’m getting so tired of all the meat-heavy Bolivian dishes. Another highlight was the witch’s market located near our hotel. Indigenous women sell bizarre potions and ingredients for traditional Bolivian medicine, including dried toucan beaks llama fetuses? The market also included a plethora of shops and stands selling knit hats, bags, gloves, sweaters, blankets and everything else you could want made from incredibly soft alpaca wool and in super vibrant colors. Though I spent all the money I had, that night we found dinner for 3.50 Bolivianos, the equivalent of 50 cents! Soup, bread, chicken, rice, potatoes, and hot tea! I’m constantly amazed by how cheap everything is here by U.S. standards. It will definitely be a tough transition back to the dollar.

Early Thursday morning we left for Toqoli, a small rural Aymara village on the shore of Lake Titicaca where we would spend the next five days. As our bus turned onto the road leading to their community, a group of about twenty men and women were waiting there to greet us. Several men played drums and pan flutes, while the women tied bundles of flowers onto our backs with the bright pink blankets that indigenous women use to carry everything from babies to sacks of potatoes. We all danced together in traditional Bolivian fashion, all holding hands and gracefully running in whichever direction the leader chooses, changing direction and shouting “hayaya!” at will. At this point we were at around 14,000 feet and any sort of physical exertion was exhausting.

For lunch we all shared “apthapi”, the Aymara word for a community picnic. The women untied bundles of corn, fava beans, tomatoes, onions, tons of potatoes, and chuño. The latter is freeze-dried potato, an ancient method of the highland populations to store potatoes through periods of bad weather. Next we were split up into our host families. As we were the first “gringos” to visit the community, apparently many families were afraid we would be dissatisfied with their simple homes, food, and way of life, and consequently backed out of hosting a student. Sarah and I were paired with Roberto Castillo and began to hike with him up the mountain with our bags and huge sacks of rice, sugar, oil, and vegetables to give to the family. Forty minutes later we had reached our house at the top of the mountain, the farthest from the community center down by the lake. The view of Lake Titicaca was gorgeous, and on clear days we could see Peru on the other side.

At first, the family was very quiet and hardly seemed interested in getting to know us. We met the eighty-five year old father, the mother who only speaks Aymara, and four of their nine their children: Roberto (24), Jolia (16), Santiago (15), and Waldo (11). Roberto and Jolia both have young and absolutely adorable children of their own. Over the next few days, they all opened up to us and turned out to be extremely generous people. We gradually got a sense of the family’s structure. Not until the third day did we meet Roberto’s wife, Virginia, and their two-week old baby. Several siblings had moved to La Paz and Sao Paolo, Brazil to find work. The oldest brother lived in a house down the hill with his own family. We learned all of this in the teeny kitchen, the family’s main gathering place. The mother seemed to constantly be sitting beside the stove, stocking it with eucalyptus leaves and peeling potatoes. We would cram in there every morning and night, with other family members, chickens, kittens and guinea pigs packed into every corner. Each morning we had hot tea with ground barley, which form a sort of oatmeal when mixed. For lunch and dinner we always had some variety of potato soup.

Saturday morning we hiked downhill with Roberto to gather flowers for Sunday’s festival of crosses. I was amazed by the assortment of plants at such a high altitude. We picked dahlias and ‘cantutas’, which looked very similar to honeysuckle. On our way back to the house we ate fava beans fresh from the garden and then built a cross from the picked flowers. On Sunday, somewhere around seventy communities in the area traveled to the town of Ancoraimes, circled the plaza with their crosses, sang their village’s song, and entered the church for mass. This was followed by a massive apthapi in the plaza, this time complete with bread, bananas and tuna, the fruit from the prickly-pear cactus. After returning to Toqoli, we swam in the freezing but refreshing lake, played soccer and Frisbee with some of the local kids, and held a goodbye ceremony by a bonfire. We hiked back to the house as the full moon rose over the mountain, one of the most peaceful moments I’ve had in a while. Monday we left early to soak in some nearby hot springs. On our ride back to the La Paz airport we heard that the bridge was broken and took a detour that led us to a fairly substantial river. As this was our only other option, the driver went for it and suddenly we were stuck and slightly tipping over in the middle of the rushing water. Some students helped search for a tractor while others joined in pushing the other trucks caught in the river. Within an hour, we had successfully pushed three trucks out of the river and found a bulldozer to tow our bus out! Now I am back in Cochabamba for two weeks with my host family, taking classes, and enjoying the comfort of warm showers.

Carnaval

First off, I apologize for the lack of updates. I’ve been sick on and off for the past few weeks and the task of writing a blog post seemed quite daunting at the time. Now, I am mostly recovered and there is so much to tell!
Now I must describe Bolivia’s most prominent annual celebration, Carnaval. Prior to arriving in Bolivia, I thought Carnaval was just a daylong holiday. Little did I know that Carnaval lasts a total of three months. Generally speaking, I’ve gathered that it draws from both Christian and indigenous myths and fables. Oruro, a mining town about three hours from Cochabamba, is known for hosting Bolivia’s most renowned Carnaval celebration, apparently rivaling the festivities in Rio de Janeiro. The city’s population is said to double or triple in size during Carnaval season.

Though Carnaval celebrations, parades, and parties occur throughout the months of January and February, each city usually has one main day of festivities. In Oruro, this took place on the Saturday before Ash Wednesday, and luckily we had the opportunity to go. The bus ride was gorgeous: completely barren mountains, canyons, and valleys. We got in late Friday night, and the town was thoroughly geared up for the following day’s festivities. Wooden bleachers lined both sides of the main drag, streamers of every color flapped in the wind overhead, and thousands of people roamed the streets in merriment.

Most amazing was the energy of the Bolivians. Friday night’s music, dancing, and drinking lasted until 5am Saturday morning. Only three hours later, Saturday’s parade had begun. All in all, the succession of groups depicts the triumph of good over evil. Men, women, children, traditional bands and ornamented cars all proceeded down the main streets of Oruro for eight miles towards the church as an offering to the Virgin of Socavón, the city’s patron. Each group comes from a different location in Bolivia and offers a unique type of dance, dress, or music. Many dances tell stories of Bolivia’s history, such as the Morenadas, which represent the black slaves who worked in the mines. Some of these depictions appeared unethical from a “politically correct” point of view, since for the most part, minority Bolivian groups did not participate in the Carnaval festivities. Rather, upper class Bolivians were dressed as indigenous peoples and slaves. I was told that dancers pay upwards of $300 USD for their elaborate costumes, accompanying bands, and traveling expenses. Even purchasing a seat to watch the processions is fairly expensive. Thus, it seems somewhat like a holiday solely for the rich. Overall, however, it was an incredible insight to the traditions and folklore of Bolivian culture.

A final aspect of Carnaval that can’t be left out is the ongoing water war, which has become a massive part of the Carnaval tradition. Teenagers walk through the streets armed with ‘globos’ (water balloons) to throw at innocent pedestrians. While I had been hit and drenched several times during my first few weeks here, the water fights in Oruro were something else. Each time there was a gap in the parade, the spectators would engage in battle against the unfortunate souls across the street. Since soaking someone is clearly not enough, spray cans of foam are added to the mix. At times, this warfare was even more entertaining than the dancing, at least until I became the target. Getting a ‘globo’ to the face and foamed in the mouth and ears is no fun when you have no mechanism of defense. I am glad to say that now the mayhem has more or less subsided, and I no longer walk the streets in fear.

Alive and Well

A week and a half after arriving, I finally have the time and energy to write my first blog post! For whoever is reading, I am currently studying abroad in Cochabamba, Bolivia for t

he next four months and hopefully a little more. As my access to the internet is mediocre and sporadic, I can’t promise frequent updates, but I’ll do my best to write about the best things going on here.

I am constantly impressed by the fantastic organization and overall preparation of our program, SIT (School for International Training). Our directors, Heidi and Ismael, are great people. We spent the first four days in a hostel for orientation. Highlights include a spiritual ceremony called a k’oa that is dedicated to the Pachamama (mother earth in Quechua) followed by a delicious vegetarian meal at Ismael’s house. The next day we took a bus up to ‘El Cristo de la Concordia’, an enormous statue of

Christ that overlooks the city. Apparently the statue is a few centimeters taller than the statue in Rio de Janeiro, which is 33 meters tall for the 33 years of Christ’s life. According to the Cochabambinos, this is because Christ was really 33 years old and ‘un poquito más’. From there, we were left alone, divided into pairs, and assigned various locations throughout the city to find, observe, and learn about. Me and Helen, another student, went to the bus terminal, which was bustling with people of all ages and types of dress. It was so invigorating to find our way there only with the help of all the friendly people here.

Now I have been living with my homestay family for a week. My parents, Rudy and Janet, are extremely hip. Rudy zooms around the city on his motorcycle and Janet can dance like none other. On top of that, they are both silversmiths and work at home! The oldest daughter, Denise, is away at college in Santa Cruz and Vanet, who lives in the house, is writing and directing a play at age 14! Other family members include Pelucho the poodle and a siamese cat named Isis. They are all extremely generous and friendly. Only problem is they are constantly trying to feed me until I can hardly move. Cochabamba is known throughout Bolivia for its focus on food, so for most families their way of showing they care is through the stomach.

This weekend was especially great because I had several opportunities to escape the crowded and smoggy city. On Friday our entire group went to a nearby rural town called Tarata, which was of great political importance during the colonial era. I visited the factory of Frutte tea company, which we drink in my house here almost every morning and night. I spent most of Saturday hiking with several other students in Parque Nacional Tunari, named after the rugged peak that looms over the city. Then today we went hiking as a family in the outskirts of town! Good weekend. More to come soon!