One of our first days in San Diego, we decided to participate in the US economy. We took the bus from our hotel to the Old Town Transit Center, from where we could walk to lots of places to shop. We were looking for the Target in particular, and we knew where it was in general, but couldn't see it. So we started walking the right direction, cutting between buildings that got in our way. We stumbled into a courtyard that had very prominent video surveillance and realized where we had found ourselves.
If you are unable to zoom in to read the sign, it says: "San Diego Psychiatric Hospital."
Getting around without a cell phone sucks. At the Transit Center, the first payphone I tried had no dial tone. The second had a tone but also a background noise that covered up the voices on the other end of the line. Both were suspiciously sticky. Who cleans payphones, and how often? Finally I found another bank of phones that worked. We had purchased a 7-Eleven prepaid phone card, but it lasted way fewer minutes than it advertised.
I'm really impressed with all the readily available technology, lots of people with blackberries in particular. I have a 3X5 spiral notebook with important phone numbers and lists that I was referring to as my palm pilot until someone politely mentioned that palm pilots are like, SO, out. I prefer mine because it doesn't have to be charged or sync'd. I almost lost it during a trip to Target where I put it down underneath some DVDs I'd been looking at. I freaked out briefly but found it by retracing my steps.
My parents and Mark's mom arrived in San Diego that weekend because we weren't sure how long we'd be in the states. My brother and his wife and kids also came down from the OC, so I got to meet my niece for the first time and spent some time on the beach with them. After that day, Mark and I decided to make the trip north to get to see our moms more. Since we had no vehicle (and my driver's license had expired) Mark and I decided to take public transportation as much as possible. Our adventure began at the Old Town Transit Center in SD where we took the Coaster to Oceanside and then the Metrolink to Laguna Niguel, both trains. My sister-in-law picked us up at the station with the kids and took us to their house where we had our first home-cooked meal of the trip. We hung out and talked, I hit a home run with my nephew's whiffle bat (losing the ball to a storm drain), and then my brother took us to a drop off point where our good friend Evan picked us up to go to his house in Cerritos. In LA, we got to spend time with Evan and some other friends, including the maid-of-honor and best man from our wedding, who live on opposite sides of the 405 freeway from each other. We all met up at Lara's house, played Rock Band on the Xbox 360, and ate italian food. On July 2, Mark and I celebrated 3 years of marriage by buying ourselves bagels and professional massages- two things we can't get in Bolivia. If you'd asked us a month ago, I don't think either of us would have imagined we'd be celebrating the anniversary that way.
The white circle in the upper right corner is going to be the moon. The Peace Corps symbol is in the lower left corner, since they're the ones who funded the paint for the whole project. The emblem of the school will eventually appear in the lower right corner and a compass rose will be in the upper left. The names of the countries have not yet been added, as well as some revisions of national borders and black in-fill around the globe for contrast.
These are closer up shots of the 3 national symbols that I painted on the Bolivia map. The first is a flower called the Kantuta, which actually grows on a bush near the mural (not shown).
The following flower is called a Patujú (pah-too-HOO) and grows in the tropical regions of Bolivia.
Finally, the escarapelo badge, which we were adorned with when we swore in as volunteers back in April 2007.
We were invited to attend a quinceñera. It was hosted at the local evangelical church, so we sat through a service first, and then the ceremony began. There were 14 pairs of children of various ages- each pair represented a year of life and walked down the center aisle dramatically before taking their place in a human tunnel for the birthday girl to pass through. The church was decorated with toilet paper, in the way that we'd use colored streamers, bows, and ruffles everywhere. After the ceremony, we were invited to share cake with the other 100 attendees. The cakes were made in true Bolivian fashion- they looked great but weren't that tasty. Bolivians rarely use butter in their baking. Instead they use lots of baking powder and egg whites.
I was able to be in El Puente for the 24th anniversary of the high school there, Colegio San Miguel. The night before the anniversary, the students paraded across town with candle torches and performed traditional dances in costume. Below is a picture of the senior class of CSM in their Caporales uniforms. Yes, that is velour.
There are a couple new political offices that have appeared in our site: The autonomia office showed up just prior to the June 22 vote, and the MAS office (friends of Evo) appeared leading up to the August 10th recall vote.
Here is some graffiti that appeared in the main plaza of Tarija. My favorite part is that they spelled Evo with a B, a common mistake in a language where the letters sound very similar. I've gotten into specifying that our last name is spelled with a B grande as opposed to a B chico.
I took a self-portrait with Roque before I left since Mark hadn't seen him recently.
Here's Roque "helping" me with the laundry.
When visiting my best friend Lara in Brentwood, Southern California, I met Anthony Kiedis. He's the lead singer for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He was sitting outside the Peet's Coffee about 2 blocks from Lara's apartment with a couple of 12-year old blonde groupies. I embarassed the begeebers out of Lara and Mark by dragging them down there to try and get a picture with him. I walked straight up to him and said, "I'm really sorry, but would you mind taking a picture?" He said, "wait a minute... what is your name?" and shook my and Lara's hands before admitting that he wouldn't feel very human if he started taking pictures with just anybody. I mentioned that we were home from the Peace Corps and he asked where we are serving. When I told him we are living in Bolivia, his eyes lit up and he asked, "So, have you smuggled in a bunch of cocaine?" I bet if I had, I would have gotten his picture. I got a little (more) nervous at this point and started spitting out random coca trivia such as where he should visit in Bolivia to see the plant growing and how many kilos of leaves it takes to produce a kilo of the powder. Answers: the Chapare, 900. After that I'm not sure what I said but the conversation ended pretty soon after. Mark had run away earlier and Lara was relieved that I had finished violating the number one rule of living in LA, that you don't get excited about meeting celebrities. We got something to drink and sat at a table out of ear and eyeshot of him and that was it. Mark told me that he saw Anthony check me out as I walked away. I'm just a little obsessed now but I'm managing by reading his autobiography. He's had a pretty crazy life, and it now makes a little more sense why he asked about cocaine so frankly.
The last time I'd been in the states was late August 2007. During that trip I pretty much bottomed out in the depression rut I was in at the time. It is comforting to notice that I feel 200% better on this visit. So what has changed? Since the first trip, I have learned enough Spanish to understand what people are saying 85% of the time and also enough for me to express myself in Spanish. When I couldn't do either of those things, it was very frustrating. I've made friends in our little town with whom I share baked goods and tea, women who I will miss when the time comes for us to leave. And I've found projects that I enjoy and feel capable of working on.
We took the greyhound/crucero bus from Norwalk to LA Union Station, then on to Stockton via Coalinga junction. Compared to the bolivian bus system, greyhound was way disorganized although once we were on the bus it was ok. They seem to not keep track of the number of tickets sold for a certain route relative to the capacity of the assigned bus. Therefore, the bus that arrived at Norwalk was full, leaving us to miss our connection bus in LA since we had to wait for a backup bus. The next bus arrived an hour later, took us to LA Union, where we had to wait another 3 hours. Since there are no assigned seats and there is uncertainty about there being enough seats, everyone waits in line as soon as a gate is assigned to a certain bus line. It was a colorful group hanging around, not excluding us. I'm pretty sure we ran into multiple people recently released from the psychiatric hospital, who seemed to be comfortable talking to us because of Mark's hair. In general, the population of greyhound riders were mentally or physically disabled (thus unable to drive themselves) or of lower socioeconomic status. The only reason anyone would ride the bus is because it is significantly cheaper than Amtrak or flying. The inherent cost is the loss of many hours of your life, waiting for greyhound to get their act together. We saw no businessmen traveling on the bus, but most people had cell phones. We were having to use the payphones to update people on our location. The bolivian bus system is used by people of all walks of life. Busses are frequent and relatively reliable. When you buy your ticket, you reserve a particular seat and you know it's yours. You get a claim ticket for any luggage you place under the bus. All this comes for 2-3 dollars. We paid $50 each to get from LA to stockton.
We were also able to get a glimpse of Maya, Mark's Mexican calico, who is living with an aunt and uncle in Sacramento. She keeps to herself, spending the night in the basement and coming out to bask in the sun during the day. Finally, there's Javier, the grey tabby living with my parents. He's living the good life and looks very healthy. 
SACRAMENTO:
We had dinner at El Navillero, a family owned and operated mexican restaurant in south Sacramento. Mark's been going there for years. It was so much food! We also went to the Leatherby's creamery, a family ice cream parlor that was one of our favorite Sacramento dining establishments. Luna's not the only one who has gained 10 lbs lately.
Being back in the states left me feeling self- conscious about certain things. I think my sense of what was socially acceptable was a bit altered. For example, I noticed that people weren’t talking about their general digestive health as much as PC volunteers do. My nephew was talking about how he enjoyed swimming in the pool, but it sounded like he was saying “swim-in-poo” so I discussed with him how gross that would be. My brother was not amused- fair enough. When we were traveling on public transportation, I noticed that I’m used to it being okay to strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger. Also, blatently staring at people for extended periods of time is perfectly fine in Bolivia. In the US, not so much. As far as getting around town, I’m totally used to making judgment calls at intersections and I’m sure I could’ve been ticketed for jaywalking multiple times.
0 comments:
Post a Comment