Thank You

Dr. Chavez, Dra. Uribe, Dra. Gutierrez, Dr. Velasco and Dra. Malu: Mil gracias por todo su apoyo y amistad que me dieron entre estos dos meses. No puedo expresar la admiración profunda que ustedes me inspiraron en mí. Les deseo mucha suerte con todo. Dios les bendiga por el trabajo noble que hacen día tras día. Nunca olvidaré las lecciones que me han enseñado.

“It makes me feel alive. To know I can love someone so much it hurts.” ~R. Cafaro

Goodbye

It’s six pm and I’m sitting at an airport Starbucks. I feel so incredibly strange. I feel like I am going to a new world, rather than returning to the same old thing. At this time yesterday I was at the gate of Alalay, standing in the same spot where I always eat Anahi with kisses, complying with tradition for the last time.

The French have a saying that I discussed with Casey a few days before he left for home. “To say goodbye is to die a little.” Truth. Especially the little part. Because you don’t really die. You go on living and you leave a piece of yourself in the heart of another person. You go on living with a hole in your heart. You fill it with memories.

It was a slow Monday afternoon; many of the girls were not at the home. I sat quietly with Maria and Shirley in the living room. I had spent the entire day before buying little presents, wrapping them and writing notes. That morning, Alex and I made a few last minute purchases and bought two cakes from Brosso. When it was time for coffee, everyone sat together at the long table and Gaby gave me a big card, signed by the girls. It had a big drawing of Piglet on the front. I acted surprised but Yoseline had spilled the beans twice already that afternoon. I tried to say something nice, thanks girls, I love you so much…but I choked on my own sobs instead. Gladys patted my back as we ate cake and then we handed out presents. I was glad Janeth like the skirt. I got her something extra special because she had a birthday on August 10^th. She twirled it around and showed it to the director. She will look so beautiful in it. I couldn’t stop crying the whole time. The girls kept coming up for one more hug, one more kiss. Gaby and Anahi gave me some more bracelets and Janeth gave me a beautiful woven bracelet that must have taken her weeks to complete. Gladys stood behind me and threw her arms around my neck as I sat talking with girls before it was time to go. Lourdes, Anahi and Shirley gave me cards they had made. Mary gave me a rose she made in school and a ring from her boyfriend Miguel. When I hugged Shirley goodbye, her tiny body shook. It was the most awful feeling to hold her as she cried. I never realized how small she was.

Yoseline did not say a word. She just sat in my lap, looking at me with her sad, beautiful eyes. I have never seen her so silent; she is a natural chatter box. We sat quietly for a moment, just the two of us, in a chair by the window. The sunlight blinked on her new jeweled hair band. I…love…you…I stammered. We held each other so tight. She sniffed sharply and buried her soft, brown cheek on my shoulder. I didn’t want to ever let her go. I wanted to stop the horrible, clumsy crash of the second hand that brought me closer and closer to New Jersey. This sucks. And other poetic thoughts too.

Anahi scampered up the steps to put away her present. I gave her my Tower sweatshirt. For a year, I wore that thing with pride all over Princeton campus and now my little sister can wear it, oversized, baggy, sleeves drooping over her hands, to keep warm in the Andean winter.

Gaby walks with me back to my home in Sopocachi. I am glad I did not have to leave alone. Her school is more or less in the same direction so we walk most of the way together and then part on a street corner. I hug her twice, her gorgeous smile lights up her face and then she is gone.

Elise and Alex arrive late to their night shift so that they can have dinner with me. We go to my favorite restaurant, sushi and Thai food. We say goodbye and I finish packing my suitcases. It’s amazing how many alpaca products I actually thought I needed. I tell Arminda that she has a lovely granddaughter and should be very proud of Lorena. When I was wrapping presents for the girls, Lorena came up and asked me what I was doing. I thought she would ask me if she could have a lip gloss or something that I was giving to the girls at Alalay. Lorena is only eight years old but when I told her these were presents for orphans, her eyes flashed with understanding. She took off her headband and said, give this to one of the girls. I don’t really need it.

I see a red car with a familiar luggage rack on the roof. I wait. The driver is not in the car. It’s 4 a.m. I wait another ten minutes. I realize the driver came early to take me to the airport and is sleeping in the front seat. Jorge! Wake up, it’s time to go. Jorge wakes up and asks me what time it is. Don’t worry, I say, we have plenty of time, thanks for driving me so early in the morning. Tranquila señorita, it is my pleasure to serve you. Jorge is the CFHI designated chofer. He is in charge of all the airport transportation for the CFHI students. We chat on the drive up to El Alto. I stare out the window at the black night, sprayed with the million yellow city lights of La Paz below. A mountain rimmed basin draped in a wet spider web, each droplet of dew reflecting the crescent moon’s shine. Jorge is glad that I enjoyed my time in Bolivia and my rotations. I tell him I am sad to leave. He says not to worry. You’ll come back. You have grown, your character has grown and you’ll come back again some day. He reaches out the window to grab a highway pass. You will see your hermanitas again. Sí, pues, sí. He’s so sure. And when you do come back I will be here to pick you up from the airport. I smile and wonder how one country can have so many beautiful people, up to the last drop. We pull up to the terminal and he opens the door for me. I tip him, we hug and kiss, and then I begin the long journey home.

I'll miss you

Every morning, I have fresh orange juice and homemade papaya jam on bread. I walk on uneven cobblestone streets. All day long, seeing faces, hearing voices. Always thinking of her.

Señor, ya me arrancaste lo que yo más querría

Oye otra vez, Dios mío, mi corazón clamar

Tu voluntad se hizo Señor, contra la mía

Señor, ya estamos solos, mi corazón y el mar.

The Situation Room

Dra. Malu and I talked today about the social situations in Bolivia so that I would better understand the girls who walk into her office. Servicio de Adolescentes is an outpatient clinic for adolescent health issues located in Alto Miraflores. The number one issue is teen pregnancy. Why is this? Abortion is illegal in Bolivia. Which means is it underground and very dangerous. There are two ways to abort, as far as I can tell. The first is the use of papaya and natural herbs that the Aymara use to terminate pregnancies “the natural way”. The other option is to go to a dentist’s office. Many dentists perform abortions in a back room at their private practice, but there is absolutely no accountability. No statistics, no laws, if you get an infection or die, no one cares. It’s one less baby born into poverty and one less unwed girl selling fruit juice on the sidewalks. The girls that come to see Dra. Malu live with their mothers or alone, having been abandoned by their lovers. Usually, the men are older, by ten years or more. Sometimes the men are married with families or divorced with other children. They skip town, or they just leave. Just leave. What about child support? I ask, naively. Dra. Malu sighs and looks me in the eye. It only exists on paper. The government and lawyers are corrupt. Yes, technically in Bolivia the law states that if you can prove a man is the biological father of your child, he owes you financial help. But there are loopholes and no one stands up for the women to ensure they receive the money. Lawyers are easily bribed to favor the man’s case. Same goes for judges. So I look at the seventeen year old girl sitting in Dra. Malu’s office expecting her second child and I see little hope. She can only receive the medications that SUMI provides and Dra. Malu’s words of encouragement. Her first child is a year and 3 months old, and does not walk or talk. He is malnourished. By accident of birth he is indoctrinated into a system of unaccountability. The government, his father, his grandparents, society- everyone is failing to take responsibility for him. And he pays the price, as will his mother, as will his unborn sister. I am angry. This needs to change. The laws must be rectified and enforced to ensure that mothers can feed their children. It sounds so simple. But how?

Dra. Malu and I ride to Zona Sur where she conducts a workshop for other doctors regarding adolescent care. She asks me, how’s your love life? I tell her about Sergio and she lights up and wants to know all about him. More girl talk. It never gets old. We keep chatting and discover that both of our mothers are Paraguayan. This is really cool, she is the first person I have met in Bolivia with Paraguayan heritage. It’s surprising since we are bordering the mother land. Anyways, we both agree that Paraguayan women are the most beautiful in the world. I tell her I am learning so much from her and hope to use this experience to fuel my thesis. She encourages me to write about adolescent health issues for my senior thesis because there are so many problems in Bolivia that no one is addressing. I begin to feel that helpless, desperate moth banging around inside my brains again. I know, I know, as we bounce along the congested streets of Miraflores. So many problems but what can I do? I am just one person. I wish I were smarter, more powerful, more important. I am a college student in Bolivia, seeing life up close and personal. I am a newborn with a red face and slits for eyes. I am seeing the world for the first time and I am scared.

Another Goodbye

We go out to dinner to say farewell to Molly. She and her husband are the cutest couple ever, very funny and smart. After dinner, Elise, Alex and I go with them to Brosso to get icecream. This time they didn’t have mint chocolate chip so I got apple pie delirium. It was everything the title implied and more. Dear Molly and Angelo, best of luck to you both, and lots of love.

Chocolate, Love, Dancing

Arminda makes us pizza for lunch and I fall asleep right after I lay down to take my siesta. I have nightmares that I arrive late to Alalay and the girls are sad. I wake up and dash out the door, on time. Alex and I buy chocolate bars for the girls. Each has a different flavor of crème inside- orange, pineapple, mint, grape, raspberry, lime. When we arrive the girls have not come home from school yet so we wait. They are so excited to get these big bars of chocolate and pick out their own flavor. Shirley takes an orange crème and thanks us repeatedly with dirty chocolate kisses. Mary takes a grape crème because that is her boyfriend Miguel’s favorite flavor. Anahi presents me with a woven thread bracelet that she has been making for me. It is red and black, my favorite colors and it the perfect size for my wrist. She gives me another one, blue and black, to go with it. I sit in the living room and Gladis tells me about her former job as a traffic zebra. The mayor offers all the children of appropriate age who live in halfway homes and orphanages jobs to dress up as zebras and direct traffic. It’s an okay job, you just wear this ridiculous zebra outfit and direct pedestrians at busy intersections. But Gladys says the uniform is really hot, even in the winter. And sometimes cars don’t listen so it can be dangerous. She quit after a week and they didn’t pay her so she went to the office today to complain. I was proud of her that she wanted to try to take care of this situation all by herself. I would have been intimidated at age seventeen to demand compensation for a week’s work. What a girl. As we sat studying flat worms for her nature class, Mary asked me to be her madrina for her quintera this November. I said I would be honored. Joselin and Anahi will have their quintera in a few years too, so I will be the proud madrina of three beautiful girls. Today as we were hanging out, coloring and doing hair, a song came on the radio. It was Bendita La Luz by Maná, one of my all time favorites. I danced with Shirley and Joselin to the song, twirling and spinning them all around the room until they were out of breath. Bendito Dios por encontrarnos. I couldn’t agree more. I got a special hug from Gaby today when she came home from school. She is such a quiet girl but she is always near me when she has free time from her chores and always softly smiling. I can feel her love in the simple things she does, like brushing my hair or playing little summer camp hand games. She has a bracelet that identical to what my mother and father wear, a simple string of wooden beads with pictures of Mary and Jesus on each bead. On the back it says Sergio & Gaby, her name and her chico’s name. She giggles and lovingly traces the letters with her fingertip. Maria was sitting drinking her tea and I came up behind her, singing the song, Ava Maria, cuando serás mia? She rewarded my antics with a great, hearty laugh. I love hearing it. As usual, when it was time to go, Anahi walked me to the door and I ate her with kisses and said goodbye. You always tickle me! she giggles with a crooked smile as her bangs fall in her face. Only four more days. My heart is breaking.

Another Monday

As Molly and I bounce along a minibus ride to Servicio de Adolescentes the smell of cooking onions fills the air. We pass through an outdoor food market- hanging sausages swing in the wind and cholitas sit on the sidewalks with their bushels of chamomile and coca leaves for sale. We arrive to a new looking, clean facility equipped with exam rooms and even a dentist’s office. Young mothers listen to a charla as they wait to see Dra. Malu. Dra. Malu is a very lovely woman with dyed red hair and a very friendly disposition. She calms the pregnant teenage girls with her kind words and sincere, soft, motherly approach. We see only a few patients and the exams are minimal; the only instruments we use are out hands and eyes. We feel the mother’s stomachs for the baby’s head, positioning, heart beat and movement. It is an incredible feeling to touch an unborn child, growing inside its mother. After we see the patients, Dra Malu breaks open a bag of empanadas de queso and some glass bottle of coca cola. We have a little mid-morning party to say goodbye to Molly. We chat with the medical students about boys, relationships and girl stuff. It was so fun. On the ride home, I hit my head on the roof of the minibus as I exited. I pick up my laundry from the dry cleaners and head over to the movie store to see if Mr. & Mrs. Smith has arrive yet. Come back tomorrow, the shopkeeper tells me. Anahi really loves Angelina Jolie, so I am impatient to give her this little present. On the way home, a man is pruning a tree, if you can call it that, right there on the sidewalk. The entire tree is practically spread from the store fronts to the street, leaving only enough space for one person to cross at a time. A beautiful little boy, about thirteen years old, smiles at me as I shuffle past. He had the face of an angel and is pushing an empty shopping cart to the nearby supermarket where he must work. Chocolate skin and almond shaped, brown eyes set off his perfectly soft, mild-mannered smile. Bolivians are so beautiful.

Short but funny

Doctora Gutierrez is a funny lady. She is also a great teacher, asking challenging questions, putting me on the spot. (See earlier post...g.r.e.a.t. teacher!!)

Aaanyways....this nurse was showing a picture of her son to Dra. G. Her son is like, 5 years old, I'd say. And he's posing naked, on a couch, looking directly at the camera. It's hilarious. Dra. Gutierrez's first comment goes something like, wow! look at his *****! He should have a little leaf covering it and you could hang this picture up in a museum. Que cochino! She keeps pointing at it and laughing and the nurse is also laughing and I'm thinking, who taught this five year old kid to pose naked on a couch like an Abercrombie model? It was too funny. This kid's expression was so serious and he's this fat, naked, little boy and Dra. G just thinks it's hilarious that he's just hanging out, feeling the free breeze flow. Maybe you had to be there?

Alalay

I’ve been volunteering during the afternoons at Alalay with Alex, my compadre from Princeton. Alalay is an orphanage for girls that were living on the streets. They come to Alalay to live there, go to school, learn a trade and become self-sufficient. Alex and I go for a few hours and hang out with the 20 some girls that live there. Here’s a little description of a few of the each of the girls:

Anahi: Anahi was the first girl to get attached to me. She’s fourteen and wears this forest green sweatshirt a lot. It makes her look very cool. Her hair is always falling in her face. We have this tradition. Every time I leave, I pretend to eat her with kisses. It usually ends with us on the floor in a tickle fight. She loves talking about celebrities, boys, the United States, movies and music. She loves to laugh.

Shirley: Here come the girls! That’s the first thing I heard when I came to Alalay on the first day. I was nervous. I wasn’t sure how I would be able to relate to them. They had lived on the streets, grown up too fast, seen way too much. So on the first day, this little eight year old girl comes running up to us and gives us hug. Do you have any chocolate? Ah, something I can relate to. I pull out a bag of M&M’s that I had in pocket. Girls are still girls after all. Shirley is the youngest of the bunch. She is so cute but she’s a handful sometimes. She has short hair and a pretty face. On her neck is scar, about 4 inches long, right above her jugular vein. She arrived a month ago and still can’t chew with that side of her mouth.

Mary: Nena Mary Aborta Mendoza. Quiet, beautiful, smiling Mary. She had long hair that she wears up in a claw and loves school. She likes to learn, she’s smart and studious. She’s a hard worker but she likes to play too. She’s very tender and endearing. She is fourteen and has a boyfriend, Miguel, who is also her age. They have been together since she was twelve and started off as friends. Her girlfriends make fun of them but she says she just ignores them. She is studying gastronomy and her favorite food is broiled chicken and mashed potatoes.

Yoseline: Yoseline has short hair and a pixie face. She has tons of energy and is always bursting with something to say. She is good friends with Mary and Anahi. She’s a bit mischievous but she always means well. She is always drawing or coloring, she has a real talent for art.

Lourdes: Lourdes loves to hold my hand. She is very affectionate, never missing the chance for a hug or kiss. She likes to be called bonita, princesa, hermosa... She is very good at spotting empty yogurt containers in the street which the girls recycle for money. She can see these little plastic bags from like two blocks away. Anyways, she always comes running up to greet us when we arrive and has this warmth about her.

Gaby: Gaby is absolutely gorgeous but she hasn’t discovered it yet. She is thirteen but looks like she’s nineteen. She has a stunningly beautiful face and long, wavy, black hair. She is always so happy to see me but is more reserved, like Mary. She expresses herself in subtle ways, smiles and flickers of meaning that escape her dark, brown eyes. I mentioned that my favorite Bolivian dish was orange chicken yesterday. Today, she was leaving to go to cooking school as I arrived. She gives me this huge smile and says she made me orange chicken in her class last night and sure enough, there is a big plate of chicken waiting for me in the kitchen at Alalay. I felt like crying with every spoonful.

Maria: Maria is outspoken and mature. She has curly, telephone cord hair. When you look at her wide eyes, you feel a little unsettled, but in a good way. She is always thinking and watching people. She is also very sweet and when she laughs you can see the little girl inside that is normally guarded under her demure exterior. She is playful once you earn her trust and loves to be cuddled and hugged.

Gladis: Gladis is eighteen and very beautiful. Her face is very serious and pensive, so when you make her smile you feel really good. She is at a different level than most of the girls. She takes a surrogate mother role in the house, moderating disputes and delegating chores. She is studying medicine and is very smart. She always greets everyone when entering a room and says goodbye to everyone when she leaves. She is quite the lady.

Patti: Patti is hard to reach. She is fifteen but has the mind of a three year old. Sometimes it feels like she understands what is going on outside of her and other times she is in her own little world. But she is very receptive to affection, and in general, a very sensitive little girl.

Janeth: Janeth is also a beautiful girl, seventeen years old. She has seen a lot, you can tell. She’s the fifth of eight children and told me about her brother, who still lives on the street with his girlfriend and baby. When you talk to her, you feel like you are the only person in the world that matters. She’s not around the house as much as the other girls but when she is I like spending one on one time with her. She’s resilient and much stronger than she lets on.

So those are a few of the girls at Alalay. They are just normal girls. They like painting their nails, watching chick flicks, and eating chocolate. But they haven’t had the normal lives that little girls deserve. I wish I could erase all the ugly bits and pieces of their past, buy them things that other girls have, just hold them and make all the old hurt go away. These beautiful little girls have taught me so much about love. Every day, it gets harder to leave Alalay, but it also gets harder to go back. I step outside of myself and see this American girl, in a world completely foreign to her. Swinging a giggling thirteen year old girl around in her arms in a playground on a Wednesday afternoon. Who is she? She is Yoseline. She is touching my heart, my life, my soul. She is changing me into the person I have always been meant to be.

Beautiful

Today I saw the most beautiful family at Hospital de los Andes. The mother was 22 and had a cold and the father was so concerned for her, it was adorable. The mother had a blanket draped over her winter coat and was breastfeeding her baby girl. She had the most perfect face- big, bright, brown eyes, a soft, little nose and well lined lips. Her husband was also beautiful. He had very kind eyes, and soft, yet masculine features, his nose and jaw were absolutely perfect. He stood over his wife while she fed his daughter, in a protective stance that she probably didn’t notice anymore. They both looked tired, their daughter was young and kept them up all the time, no doubt. I felt bad for staring, but I had never seen two people as beautiful as this before. Their skin was the color of cinnamon and all three of them had hair blacker than night. I thought about how cheapened the word beautiful has become. Looking at this couple, I realized that beauty doesn’t have to be rare or exotic to be special. But too many things are called beautiful that should not be. Which is why true beauty stings your eyes like morning light after a long night of ugly. This family was beautiful. Like a star, or a math problem, or a kiss. I know that I will probably forget what their faces looked like in a few days but I want to remember the awe I felt in their presence forever. I’m not exactly sure why but I feel like what I saw this morning could be really important some day.

Coca Cola

I don´t know why, but, this stuck with me.

Yesterday, Alex and I went to San Francisco plaza to do some shopping. It was nice, I got some leg warmers and a rug and things for Vern. Including a purple marble. Yes!

On the way home, we saw these guys throwing plastic crates full of empty coca cola bottles into a flat bed truck. The crates were stacked about 10 crates high and they were throwing them like feathers. It was like a dance. They flung them so fast, with rhythm and strength, but so unthinkingly. They had no idea how cool they looked. To me, at least.

Cota Cota

On Wednesday, the Bolivian day of Independence, Arminda took us on a day trip with her family to Cota Cota, a park in Zona Sur. Alex and I rode a giant yellow swan and raced her grandchildren around a very little lagoon. It was entertaining. Then we played on the swingset and it made me want to be a kid again. I wanted to trade places with the little girl to my left, whose father was pushing her and doing his best to follow her directions- higher, faster, higher...Arminda´s grandchildren are beautiful. Lorena is eight and has dimples on her cheeks. She looks like her father, Lorenz. Dani is six and a little gentleman. This little girl at the park dropped her toy and he ran over and picked it up and handed it to her. Chivarly is engrained into men, starting in the cradle practically. I think it´s awesome. And Adrian is a year old, so he hasn´t begun his training yet. The boys look more like their mother, Haidi, who is just beautiful. Her sister and father came with us to Cota Cota and everyone treats us like we are their adopted daughters. I feel like a part of their family. Today, the referendum has everyone on lock down, so Arminda brought Lorena and Dani over. We talked about snakes and how cool snakes are and how did you know snakes can kill you and swallow you whole?

After we came home from Cota Cota, Sergio and I went to Terraza for coffee and chocolate cake, which is never disappointing. Then we drove around La Paz listening to his extensive collection of all the latest trance music in his car and ended up at this gorgeous park on the top of a hill at the edge of the city. There was a fountain, statues, and a stone archway, very lovely. From the park you could see all the lights of the city below and all the stars. It was unforgettable.

Salteña

Salteña is a traditional Bolivian food, much like an empanada but it's baked rather than fried. They are filled with chicken or meat and are very juicy, you have to tip it as you eat it so that it doesn't leak. It is usually eaten in the morning, around 10 or 11, between breakfast and lunch. This week at Boliviano Holandes, the doctors have invited me to eat salteña with them which is nice because we get to interact outside of the hospital, it's a nice little break in the day. They are so sweet and easy to talk to, it's wonderful working with people that you relate to on a personal level.

Friday

On Friday, Dawnell and Dra. Uribe arranged a dinner for all the doctors and students in the CFHI program. First of all, Dawnell is the greatest mentor ever. She brought medicine to my house when I wasn't feeling too hot. And she's leaving soon! So this dinner was bitter-sweet because it was the last time that everyone would be together before we all went our separate ways. I was glad I didn't have to say goodbye to the doctors in addition to the July students, there's too many thank you's to say. The dinner was great, Pamela came with Dr. Velasco and sat at our part of the table. I had the best shrimp of my life, with three types of sauce and wine. Afterwards, we danced for a little bit and took some glamorous pictures. It was a good night.

Great Concepts

1. On Sunday, during the market day, the streets are closed. There are live bands, dance groups, street performers, and my personal favorite, old men playing chess outside on the sidewalk. There's a few blocks that are laced with old men playing chess on both sides of the Prado. It's adorable, cute, endearing...

2. The Aymara have a different perception of Time. The Future is behind you and The Past is ahead. Westerners are the opposite, The Future is forward, far into the distance right? Aymara believe we are facing The Past, we learn from it because we can already see it and accept this. The Future is unknown and mysterious, there is no way to see what is behind you. If you ask me, we have it backwards.

Tiahuanaco

This Saturday Alex, Katie, Molly and I went to the ruins of Tiahuanaco, an ancient civilization which preceded the Incas. The ruins were beautiful and we had a very nice, young girl who was our guide. We saw the Door of the Sun which was used like a clock and a calendar. It has 365 notches for the days of the year and the pillars in the center of the plaza act like a sun dial. The walls are adorned with hundreds of faces which represent the different races living on earth at the time of Tiahuanaco. The faces were originally decorated with gold, which was confiscated by the conquistadores as they arrived. The stones of the ruins are missing in places. But they didn’t travel far. The Spaniards used them to build churches nearby. There is also a statue which has evidence of an exorcism performed on it to purify the devils which they believe the heathens worshiped. It has a triangle, circle and cross etched in its side. I’m not the first person to be awestruck by the accomplishments of people who came before me, but there is something to be said for a close up encounter with the beauty and the mystery of the past. When I came home, I sat and had dinner with Arminda, just cheese and bread and good conversation. I love her. She always cares about how my day went. Then I went to get ice cream with Marie, my lovely fellow Irish Catholic down here. She left Saturday night- I'll miss you Marie.

I can't say this enough

Bolivians are wonderful, open, warm people. I have another anecdote. I was in a taxi, going to an unfamiliar part of the city. The taxi driver dropped us off at the designated area, and asked us where are you girls trying to get to? Okay, here, and he gives us directions to where we need to go. And as we exit he says have fun, God Bless, and be safe girls.

El Puente de las Américas

When crossing from Sopocachi to the medical district, there is a bridge with two lanes for traffic and sidewalks on either side for pedestrians. It is called the bridge of the Americas and it’s unremarkable. Except when you fix your gaze on the ground, you notice that every other sidewalk block has a bible passage, painted on the concrete. And even this is not surprising. Bolivia is a very Catholic country, every single taxi driver has a crucifix in his car along with bumper stickers that say things like: Jesus Es Mi Pastor, Jesus Te Ama, Jesus Me Guia, etc. Not that it makes me feel safe when he’s doing 90 on a mountainous slope. I digress. The bible passages on the bridge are very beautiful, full of inspiring words about God’s love and the beauty of human life. Out of plain curiosity I asked Arminda about the bridge. She told me that the bridge is cursed. What? The city installed guards, wire grating, and bible passages to prevent suicides. The bridge is located near the discotecas and apparently when guys get drunk and are dumped by their girlfriend or whatever, they jump. There are about 2 jumps a month. The bridge is located over a busy highway and the lucky ones fall to their death. The unlucky ones survive the fall. I asked Pamela about it at the thank you dinner and she said it’s true. I couldn’t believe it. The response to this problem is uniquely South American. I like that they put bible passages on the bridge and it made me think about how sterile our society has become. If this bridge were in Cleveland, death itself could not bring God into the discussion. And how do we know it doesn’t work? Maybe there was someone who needed something more than a fence to stop him. This unremarkable bridge may connect more than we give it credit for.

Yarn

Hi Aunt Jean,

This little post is just for you: I got you a TON of 100% fine spun Alpaca yarn today. There's three colors and it smells good too. My senora said I went to the best store in Bolivia to buy it, but I just happened on it by chance today during my afternoon shopping! They take it off of these giant spools and weigh it for you, it was fun. I can't wait to see what you make with it. One of the colors I got was pink because I thought maybe you could make something for Clare to wear. It's very soft. I also got a blue color too in case Ellie and Ron get any ideas. Miss you and see you soon! Love!

Girls and Ladies

Kristen left yesterday. We knew each other for only 4 weeks but I can't stop saying how much I will miss her. Casey put it best when we were walking home last night- she has the very rare ability to pacify everyone around her. I learned a lot from her as my rotation partner, it won't be the same now that she's gone. But Kristen, if you are reading this, you promised to visit me, so I will see you in New York this winter!

The goodbye dinner was so delicious. My stomach decided to feel better just in time too! We went to this Italian bistro and I ordered a really good mushroom stuffed ravioli with a white wine, lemon, garlic, three cheese sauce. I wish I had brought a camera, the plates were so pretty when the waiter brought them out from the kitchen. It's amazing how our group has become so close in such a short amount of time. It's not that surprising however. Everyone is very interesting and passionate about medicine; we all want to change the world in more or less the same way.

Today, I happened to take the same mini-bus as Molly, a new arrival for the August program. She's fantastic! We chatted all the way to El Alto, which took longer than usual because of a protest about banking. (To my understanding, the Bolivian government takes 10-12% of everyone's salary and these funds are managed by a foreign company. Recently, the government nationalized these funds, taking them away from the private, foreign company, promising to redistribute the money in favor of the campesinos and lower income bracket. However, the government revoked the deal and decided to leave the funds privatized, which angered the campesinos. So the campesinos rushed a building, took to the streets, and wrecked a door with some dynamite. We walked past it today, there were a bunch of guards milling around the door. Not very exciting, I promise. But traffic sure was a mess!)

Anyways, we arrived at Hospital de los Andes to work with Dra. Uribe. She is married to Dr. Chavez and they have three kids together. They are the most beautiful, smart, philanthropic couple I've ever seen. Dra. Uribe has taken under her wing the case of a three year old boy with primordial dwarfism. There are only 5 known cases in the world of this birth defect. I met the little boy, Israel, and he just steals your heart. He is no larger than a 3 month infant but he is more cognizant- he gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek when he met me, and he will be in the clinic again tomorrow. His father left his mother, who is a wonderful, loving woman but obviously very scared for her son. She does not have the financial resources to give him the medical attention he desperately needs. With a lot of help, he may live until he is in his twenties but he will always have serious health problems. If anyone is interested in donating to this hospital to help children like Israel, please visit www.cfhi.org.

I was happy today because I performed several wellness exams and I am getting better! It's hard to provoke a gag reflex in small children but I finally did it and I am getting the hang of checking vitals as well. This adorable couple came in with two girls and boy. The oldest girl liked me because I taught her how to use a stethoscope to listen to a stuffed frog and monkey. They are both of excellent constitution in case you were curious. The girl was jumping around the exam room and the father joked to me that she is more like son sometimes. They have eight children in total, not uncommon for families in El Alto.

There was another memorable case today as well. A girl named Lady came in and she was only fifteen. Her baby boy was over a year old and she had had a very rough life. It breaks my heart to see young girls in Lady's situation. When she walked in, her baby had no socks on his feet, so Dra. Uribe gave him a pair of booties and lectured Lady in a firm but gentle tone about her son's health. Lady left a social work facility and returned to her boyfriend, who disallows her to find work. Knowing everything this girl has been through, it's hard to criticize her for her decisions, but her little boy shouldn't have to continue the cycle of victimization. My God, they are both still children. And what can I say when she wraps him in the rainbow Aymara blanket, smiles "gracias doctoritas, ciao!" and walks out the door?

Finally, I will begin work at Alalay on Monday. I'm excited to work there with girls like Lady. It will be an opportunity to establish relationships and make a small difference. Thank you Gonzalo (program director in La Paz) for arranging this for Alex and I. You're the best.

Any Given Sunday

On Sunday, Marie, Casey, Lysi and I went to San Francisco for mass. The walk there was fun because every single Sunday in La Paz, the streets are blocked off for a carnival. Bands, dancers, performers all set up little stages and shopkeepers set up kiosks with jewelry and hand-made goods. Because the referendum is coming up, there were several cars which were absolutely drenched in posters proclaiming Evo Morales as the savior of Bolivia, and people would walk around with megaphones saying vota por Evo! vota por Evo! Flags and posters everywhere, you can't escape anything.

San Francisco was so beautiful. Although my stomach wasn't in the holiest mood that day, the church is quite arresting. It affronts all your senses and then some. Gold inlay is everywhere you look, and the exterior is just as exquisite. It was built in 1549 and you can see a picture of it on this website: http://www.twip.org/image-south-america-bolivia-la-paz-church-san-francisco-church-gl-9346-2840.html

Anyways, during the offertory ceremony, an usher grabbed me and Casey and asked us to bring up this doll of a Bolivian woman riding a horse to the priest. We just walked really slowly and gave it to the priest but I felt so weird, like everyone was watching me. Well, they were. Also, I still haven't figured out why the priest needed this doll as part of the mass.

Afterwards, I bought Señora some roses that a woman was selling outside of the church. We had lunch together with Jovita in Café Fridolin, this Austrian pastry shop that is my new wifi hangout. I am here right now eating this cake called The Black Rose, which actually looks like rose, but the petals are thick slivers of dark chocolate. Jealous? Anyways, after lunch, the CFHI gang went to see some wrestling. I know, it sounds weird, but people get really into it here. There is an old tradition, Cholita wrestling, in which Cholitas from different villages fight each other before the harvest. If you water the ground with your blood, you will be rewarded with an abundant crop. Okay. Now mix this ancient tradition with Fox's WWF wrestling and there you have it. A Cholita cracking a wooden box over a guy's head, while a midget dressed like Aquaman runs between their legs. It was oddly entertaining but I don't think I need to see it again.


I forgot to mention something. When Alex and I took the minibus to El Alto to see the wrestling fight, I sat next to this old guy who was the nicest guy ever. I promised myself I would mention him here. He told us how to get to the stadium and to be careful, etc. and was so cute besides. He acted like it was the coolest thing that I was from the U.S. and asked me, how do you like Bolivia? Are we being good to you? Um, Yes!!! Big, hearty handshake on the way out of the bus. And then, when I was waiting in line to buy a ticket for the wrestling match, the guy in front of me in line gets me going on the same conversation. Wow! You're from the states? How do you like Bolivia? What have you seen so far here? Everyone is so proud of this country, they have a real team spirit going on. I think this will be what I miss most when I leave.

Any excuse for a parade...

Today there was a parade, celebrating 78 years of UMSA’s (Universidad Mayor de San Andres) autonomy. Bolivians know how to parade. I took a lot of pictures. The costumes and dancing are incredible, they block off main streets all day and go crazy. This was even better than the parade on the Day of La Paz. The band played the same 12 notes for 3 hours and Alex and I wove our way in and out of the band, attempting to get home before Senora’s lasagna got cold. We almost made it too.

Night Life

Friday afternoon was Ben’s birthday. We went to Café Beirut for some food and then headed out to this bar called Utopia. It was radical. The bar was a little more than a hole in the wall, but it was a really funky place. It was very dim, only 5 candles lit the two small rooms. The candle holders were these iron cast mini skeletons of horses, people, and dragons. There was a 10 page drink menu, but since I drink red wine and since there is only one type of wine, my life is pretty easy. There were 2 fish tanks, each with one enormous fish in them. The fish were the size of a bicycle tire and very scary looking in the glow of the candlelight. I would be sipping my drink and forget they were floating there and then turn my head to see this giant fish staring back at me. After Utopia, we went to a disco, the first proper dancing place I’ve been to since arriving. It was awesome; they played a mixture of Spanish and American rock and hip hop. The whole CFHI bunch was all together because it was Ben’s birthday and we were the only white people in the club. I’m sure we looked funny, but I was having so much fun I didn’t notice. The other really nice thing about Bolivia is that you have everything you want close to home. This dance club is two blocks from my house, as is the bar and the café in which I am writing this journal. I can’t believe it’s been three weeks, it feels like so much less.

My Rapier

The shopping here is amazing. I really mean it. Near Plaza de San Francisco there is a market district where you can find all sorts of hand made goods. The quality and price are unbeatable. Haggling is fun and the shop keepers are very nice. I bought a rapier from this adorable family, the dad sat out front and the mom was tucked inside the little store, breast feeding her wawita (the Aymara word for child). The rapier is a cool weapon, it has horse hair and porcupine quills on the sheath. They had a small store with a little bit of everything, dolls (yes, mom), weapons, porcelains, rugs, you name it. Kristen, Marie and I walked for hours through the incredible traffic on the sidewalks and streets. There are so many people. It always looks like the rock concert just got out. Kristen is more cautious about crossing the streets and has better side vision, so I’m sticking with her. No close calls, but they drive like 10,000 maniacs.

A hard day

Friday morning was hard. We saw a lot of sad cases in Dr. Velasco’s office. A young mother, an HIV positive baby, a little girl with a serious skin problem, and mothers who couldn’t afford medicine for their kids. Sorry to sound sensational. The emotions were very real and I’ve been thinking a lot about these people so it feels right to mention them. I felt sad and awkward at the same time that morning. The shoes I wore cost more than the medicine required for a little boy to get well. There are some things in this world I don’t understand and can’t begin to justify. We said goodbye to Dr. Velasco and Pamela and it was sad to leave, but I hope this is just the beginning.

My roommates

Thursday night Casey, Alex and I went to this Argentine restaurant. Just when I thought the food here couldn’t get better. The waiter was such a classy guy, and he looked like a movie star. The food was really good, especially the bread which came with four kinds of dip. It was nice having dinner just the three of us. This roommate situation is marvelous. We are all so different but I love just talking with them, Casey and Alex are such smart, funny, engaging fascinating people. I’m so glad they are here with me. I’m learning so much from them. Good friends share experiences and great friends make them. No doubt, they’re great. We got ice cream afterwards at Dumbo, it’s like Bent Spoon meets Mitchell’s. In other words, it’s also great. I finally remembered to take a picture of the mural on the Prado. It’s a work in progress and it’s awesome. I saw a Cholita working on it during the day, and boy do I wish I had a trace of artistic ability with a paint brush. I know that I maxed out with eyeliner. The graffiti here is cool, mostly religious and political, but all very positive. My favorites are the bible passages on Puente de Americas and the random Te Amo messages on side streets.

Some musings

If I could change anything, I would make the water pressure in my shower triple what it is now. And hot.

There are vendors on the street for everything. Shoelaces. Watches. A Bolivian version of popcorn, but it is sweeter and each piece is 4 times the size of normal popcorn. It’s a bit softer as well. Toilet paper. Fresh squeezed papaya juice. I’m not kidding, everything.

Sometimes Arminda recites Spanish poetry after lunch. I can’t keep up, she’s so damn good. She does Neruda, Machado, Lorca, P. Diddy, the whole bunch. Okay, not P. Diddy.

I love the people in this city, they are so friendly and nice, it’s surprising. People hold open doors for you, greet you at every hour of the day, and are courteous in general. But if you ask them for directions and they don’t know, rather than admit it, they just lie. So you have to be careful.

I like hearing the music of the city. The car horns, the dogs barking…But this sound is my favorite: when you walk on a street, cars go by, and you hear their radios fade up and out. So it’s like a patch work quilt of sound, you get some talk shows, some rap, some instrumental, radio DJ’s. Maybe it just sounds cooler because it’s in Spanish. I’m in a café now, and I like listening to the music video mixed with the waiters chatting quietly behind the counter.

Today Gerrardo suggested the four of us give Dr. Velasco a gift certificate to his favorite restaurant, as a thank you for his wonderful mentoring. We all agreed, Gerrardo's absolutely right, too much kindness goes un-thanked in the world.

I'm sick of the same car alarm going off everywhere.

The other week, a bunch of us went to see Batman. Heath Ledger and Aaron Eckhart were amazing. Go see that movie.

Veronica

Yesterday was wonderful, the best day so far, no doubt. My health is improving and I’m actually adjusting to the altitude, which is really exciting, as it should be. We always learn so much from Dr. Velasco, he is so kind and such a great mentor. In the afternoon, Fernando and I browsed around for teaching supplies for English classes, but it’s really expensive! I decided to wait it out and it was a good thing too because after meeting with the program director, it became abundantly clear that I just don’t have enough time here to teach an effective class. That day, we had dinner at a Thai place, which was fancy, expensive and delicious. The waiter wore a tux and had the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. Actually, it was funny. I had shrimp in a coconut lime sauce and my new favorite wine, Campos de Solana. It’s very grapey and not too strong. You can tell I’m a true connoisseur from that description. Anyways, we went to a jazz club after dinner. Bolivian jazz is awesome! The club was called Thelonius, imagine that! Mom, aren’t you glad you forced me to take piano? I loved it so much, and the singer came over to our table later to chat with us while the band took a break. She was from Canada, like Kristen (= automatic love connection) and her name was Veronica! (= another automatic love connection.) She lived in Canada for 20 years and moved back to Bolivia because she needed anarchy instead of the 9 to 5 life in Canada. She had a really sultry voice and was a very interesting person. I can’t get over the fact that she shares my sister’s name. We were the only people in the club for most of the night; the bartender gave us free drinks as a thanks for coming on a Tuesday. After we got home, Alex and I stayed up late talking about life, love, friendship. It was a good night.

Grace

Grace is the nurse from Holandes. At first, I thought she didn't like me. She is very beautiful and quiet. After a few days, I realized she was a lovely person. She invited Kristen and me to assist her in the delivery room tomorrow night! I'm so excited. Last week, Grace asked me to translate an article for her. It was a long, technical publication of a study on pneumonia. I was horrible! My limited Spanish was supplemented by many hand gestures and circuitous explanations but we got it done :) and Swati told me that Grace was talking about me to the other students this week. We sat on her bed in the living quarters of the med students and forced it out. It was kind of like giving birth, but much less so obviously. Did I mention I'm adopting?

Week 3

This week Kristen and I are working at Hospital del Nino. It is a fifteen minute walk away from my home on 6 de agosto. This is great for two huge reasons: 1. I can sleep in. 2. I don't have to take public transportation. We cross the bridge and arrive on Monday morning in the medical district of La Paz. Women sit on the sidewalks selling white lab coats, hospitals line both sides of the street, and scrubs appear to the community uniform. There are so many hospitals in this area!

Hospital del Nino is a three story building, wealthier than either hospital from the two previous weeks. There are computers in the exam rooms, soap and warm water, heat, and many other things that I feel surprised to see again. I used to take things like this for granted. The cool thing about this hospital is that it specializes in infectious diseases, so I get to see some interesting cases in addition to the normal check-ups.

Doctor Velasco is so amazing. He greets us with a huge hug, smile and kiss on the cheek. As if we didn't feel welcome, he keeps asking us questions, how are you doing? do you understand this? The first day, we see some very seriously sick children. We sit in on a meeting of the doctors, discussing possible courses of treatment. The cabeza of the department is very intimidating. He throws his weight around, raises his voice with patients, other doctors, residents, nurses, everyone. I don't like him, although I must admit, I really respect his expertise. Dr. Velasco stands up to him, it's impressive. He's just as confident but less aggressive. Anyways, Dr. Valasco is amazing for so many reasons. Aside from being a sweet man, he is a great doctor and mentor. He gives us a power point presentation on Tuberculosis, encourages questions, answers questions in lengthy detail, praises our efforts, allows us to work closely with patients, asks us to analyze x-rays, gives us homework...Oh yeah, and he begins the day by praying with Pamela, his assistant, for the grace to help every patient he sees. In short, I feel very lucky to be here, I have so much to learn from him.

Jovita

I have a new goal. I want to get the phone numbers of the nurses I work with each week. I am two for two so far. I met Jovita at Los Andes, she is such a sweet girl. She took Alex and me out dancing, it was...interesting. At the first club we visited, the people lined up in two lines. You face your partner but do not touch. Also, by some silent agreement, everyone knew the moves to songs that used to be popular in 1994. We left, feeling a bit too old for that establishment. The other place we went to was also interesting. I danced with this 70 year old man named Juan who worked for the mayor or some such thing. He and his company kept praising Evo Morales, tourism, America, and how much they loved Alex and me. I doubt we have a future, but he sure could get down and dance, as Alex will unfortunately not let me forget. Jovita has also introduced me to an organization that assists orphans and street children, where I plan to teach English lessons starting Tuesday. She is such a sweet girl and a true friend.

El Camino de Muerte

This weekend we went to Coroico, riding a bus on the Road of Death. Its name derives from its record of the highest mortality rate in the world. I wasn't worried until we went around the first corner- I totally understand the name. It was like riding a really, really bad roller coaster. The bus had no shocks, we felt every bump from the unpaved road. The road dips and twists unexpectedly, cars appear out of nowhere, and as we drive through clouds trucks materialize like ghosts. Coroico is a small city on a hill, much warmer and lower than La Paz. It took leaving La Paz to realize a few things I hadn't noticed. There are no clouds or trees in La Paz. When I saw these things again for the first time weeks, I was surprised to say the least.

We stayed at the Hotel Esmeralda, it was lovely. Marie, Alex and I shared a room overlooking the mist-covered, tropical mountains. We had lunch in a German restaurant, it was delicious food, most people ordered these German noodles and beef. Swati and I shared a veggie pizza and for dinner we went to Bamboo, the best Mexican food I've ever had. The burritos were out of this world. Afterwards, our group spent the night hanging out and drinking wine in the social room of our hotel. The ride back was uneventful but it felt longer. It's good to be back in La Paz.

This week Kristen and I will work in Hospital de los Ninos, for which I am very excited. Last week we worked in Boliviano Holandes. Dra Gemio was less engaging than Dra Gutierrez but still very sweet and knowlegeable. Holandes has much more money and resources than Hospital de los Andes. Holandes is three stories tall, with many doctors and nurses bustling everywhere, announcements floating over the PA system. Dr. Chavez let us follow him one morning in the NICU, it was so wonderful. He took pains to explain the biochemical processes involved behind the medical procedures we witnessed. I am in such awe of the grace and wisdom these doctors so effortlessly display. And the best part is there is still more to come.

Work

How could I have predicted what this would be like?

My first day on the job, Dra. Gutierrez asked me to perform physical exams on Aymara babies and analyze some x-rays for hip displacements. I work at Hospital de Los Andes. What an incredible place. I mean really unbelievable. After driving an hour up the mountain in a minibus, (which is just a large van with a sign and boy shouting out the window), we arrive in an indigenous barrio. It is dusty, cold, bright and windy. There are cars speeding in both directions down the main street. Women sit on the curb and entreat us to buy cheeses, fish, and fruit spread out on their blankets on the ground. Children weave through the traffic, selling candy and gum. The native dress is a colorful, rainbow pattern blanket worn on the back to carry small children, a floor length skirt, shawl, and round-bowl hat. The men are less notable. The children are strikingly beautiful. They have piercing brown eyes and melting smiles, dimples and all.

Doctora Gutierrez reminds me of my sixth grade teacher. She asks me tough questions in front of patients. She puts me on the spot and challenges me because she is a good teacher and knows I can handle it, although sometimes I feel like I am so inexperienced, I have to think on my feet and admit I what I still don't know. She's a wonderful doctor, chastising mothers for descuida (poor parenting), a tough love kind of woman. She makes you want to impress her. Her love for children and her dedication to this place left me speechless, feeling so small. This hospital is no bigger than my home in Cleveland. And even less equipped than your average suburban bathroom! The don't have exam gloves, masks, medicine, enough personnel...Dogs wander around the waiting room. The line is out the door with Aymara women, carrying babies on their backs. I saw two live births last week and the poor women received just one local anesthetic just moments before delivery. (By the way, I'm totally adopting.) The delivery room was adjacent to a public hallway. The doctors took Kristen and I aside after we dressed the babies and very sincerely lamented the conditions. They said, we are doing the best we can. We don't have what we need. We are providing service for these people but they deserve better. We work for them and we need help. We need so much help.

Hip displacement is a common problem in babies here. The Aymara wrap the babies very tightly, often with a strip of tough cloth, resulting in grossly distorted bone growth. Usually it can be corrected with time, if the baby is young enough. If not, a harness or corrective surgery is needed. Malnutrition is also a problem here, like anywhere. But malnutrition is not an economic phenomenon. It is a question of ignorance. Americans have more money than Bolivians but I no longer maintain the illusion that we are better nourished thanks to our paychecks. Education makes all the difference. There is currently a political movement, Desnutricion Cero, which advocates nutritional awareness among all families in order to reduce health problems related to poor nutrition in Bolivia.

Every week we have a presentation on a special health topic. Last week was insurance/health care in Bolivia. SUMI is a wonderful program that covers pregnant mothers, and children under 5 years of age, free of charge. Being here has definitely given me a different perspective on the upcoming health care crisis in the United States. During a late night discussion with my roommates, Alex put it best- do we really want sick people to go untreated? This week's topic was malnutrition and next week will be hip displacement. I love the presentations, they put the week into perspective. Health care is a complicated topic, the more I learn, the less I feel I know. There are so many problems and new solutions create new problems. Helping people shouldn't be so complicated, but it is. It comforts me to know that people like Doctora Gutierrez and the doctors at Hospital de los Andes are out there, working tirelessly in conditions I had never imagined could be real, just doing the best they can.

The Floating Lake

Fifteen of us went to Lake Titicaca over the weekend thanks to Andrea and Brandon’s awesome planning. We rode a bus for several hours on Saturday morning and then crossed the lake on a boat to Isla del Sol. The lake and island are high, high up, about 4500 meters I would guess. They call it the floating lake. The lake is surrounded by mountains capped with snow and the moon rises at 4 in the afternoon. The sun is strong and the sky is absolutely cloudless, a harsh cold wind stirs the dusty heat enveloping the Incan ruins scattered along the slopes of the mountain. We hiked up to our lodge and spent the night recovering from the trip. The greatest part of the weekend was sitting under the stars, wrapped in blankets and talking until dinner time. The night sky was a clean, pure black and the stars hung low, burning bright over our heads. The immense quiet was broken only by laughter and voices in conversation. The night was freezing cold but by early morning the sun had baked the dry air completely. Up in these mountains, the breathtaking beauty is preserved by harsh extremes, a great place to see but an inhospitable home for visitors.

La Calle

The trufi’s line up on Calle Mexico. If the passenger doors are open, feel free to jump in the car. Every morning, Kristen and I take a trufi up to El Alto. The ride is terrifying. The streets reach 20 degrees with the horizontal and the cars dangerously flirt with back gliding. In spite of this, the drivers find ways to make our commute even more exciting, passing over double yellow lines, crashing lights, speeding up on mountain road curves, you name it. And they never fail to wave or honk in acknowledgment of other trufi drivers sporting double flags as they pass each other. The mini buses are my favorite. They have 3 digit numbers on their roofs and a cardboard sign on the dash, indicating the route. Young boys work with the drivers, leaning far out the window, shouting the stops in two seconds or less. 6 de agosto, Calle Peru, el Alto, un Boliviano! Little boys dress up in zebra and donkey suits, mocking rude pedestrians. The city employed street children to keep aggressive pedestrians in check and reduce pedestrian related accidents. The real motive was to creatively occupy young boys living in the dangerous conditions of the street. The streets are never a boring place.

Week 1

I live on Independence Street. 6 de Agosto. Every morning I wake up to the sound of car horns and dogs barking. La Paz is a vibrant city, full of colors, smoke and music. The streets and sidewalks are twisty, uneven, and all uphill. I run out of breath so easily, I have to let old women carrying babies on their backs pass me as I struggle for air at this altitude. The Andes Mountains are also breathtaking in the non-literal sense. Truly magestic beauty. As we drove to our homes from the airport in El Alto, I fell in love with the panorama- the golden sunrise striking the homes stacked along the mountainside. Donkeys and llamas and children, whizzing past my view as we descended into this city full of unknowns.

The air is cold, dry and thin, striking my face as I step out of the car to meet my host mother. Arminda Chavez. La declamadora. She is in her early seventies, though I would never have guessed so. She speaks and moves with such energy, her passion for life exudes from every inch of her tiny stature. The first night in her home, she shared with me a poem she wrote, a hymen to the sea, lost to Chile. I love my mamita. She fills her home with her love for her family. Her son's family spends every Sunday with her after they attend mass. She is a proud Mormon, a rarity in this Catholic country. I feel as though I have known her all my life. With people such as my mamita and her beautiful grandchildren, I know that I will come to love this country too.