So it's official -- as of Monday, September 22 our Peace Corps service ended. The whole process of our consolidation, evacuation, and completion of service has been a bit surreal. At times we were bogged down with paperwork and details and at other times we were overcome with emotion. Actually leaving Bolivia was the most difficult moment for me. I held out hope that the political atmosphere would calm down and we would be allowed to return to El Puente and continue our service. With each announcement from the PC Admin I thought "This will be the one where they tell us everything is calm again." Even as we waited in the Cochabamba airport and our plane was delayed over and over again, I hoped that things might return to normal. Not until our Country Director finally announced that Bolivia and Peru had approved our flight plan and the C-130 had left La Paz did I begin to accept that this phase of my life was over.
Erica and I walked outside the airport and took some last looks around at the mountains. I cried. We talked. We laughed a bit. Then we went to the observation deck and watched the military plane arrive.
Loading the plane took on a bit of a circus atmosphere. We were told not to take pictures, but hardly anyone could hold back their curiosity. The PC staff, volunteers, and even the Bolivian airport staff were all shooting photos of the military cargo plane. The mood was quite somber as the doors closed and we left Bolivia. We had a great view of Mt. Tunari as we sat on the runway and I was grateful that I had the opportunity to take two trips up the mountain. When we arrived in Peru the mood lightened and we were happy to be greeted by the US Air Force and Embassy officials. In another strange twist, one of the Embassy officials turned out to be my old high school drama teacher. I recognized him immediately but could not remember who he was until his name was announced. Later I talked to him and even though it had been over 15 years since I graduated and I'm a bit more hairy now, he also recognized me.
The next days were spent at a "retreat center" outside of Lima with all 110 Bolivia volunteers. We did paperwork, had sessions to express our feelings, and had time to unwind and just hang out with each other. When Monday came we were whisked away in vans to the central PC Peru office in Lima and were officially no longer Peace Corps Volunteers. It was a strange, abrupt ending to such an intense period in our lives.
At the entrance to our retreat center with fellow B-44 volunteers Gina and Stephanie.
We spent the next two days in Lima, planning out our next steps, eating good food, and renewing our passports. We went to the US Embassy on Tuesday and were helped by a former Bolivia PC volunteer who served in the early 90's. She had heard about our evacuation and we shared stories about our experiences.
We were fortunate to return to our hostel just as a group of friends was setting out for southern Peru. Our bags were already packed and we took advantage of our newly gifted freedom and made the decision to join our friends on the road...
And so begins the next phase of our lives -- we are now Returned Peace Corps Volunteers traveling around South America. We expect to take our time and see this continent and slowly make our way overland to Mexico. We are grateful for our time in Bolivia, the community of El Puente and its people, and the many other volunteers who we met and forged friendships with. We are also very excited about the opportunity to travel a bit before returning to our friends and family in the US.
These are the closing pictures of PC Bolivia taken Monday morning before everyone began their new adventures. We took a Bolivian-style photo without smiles.
And here is the final picture of our training group, B-44. We all met in Miami in January 2007 and became close friends during our time in Bolivia.
We've been staying about 1 hour east of Lima, Peru in a little community called Chaclacayo since our evacuation from Bolivia on September 15. We started the COS (close of service) process on Tuesday with the distribution of film canister sized containers that we have to poop in to make sure we don't have any parasites. For those of you less desensitized to talking about digestion, I'll spare you the details. We have to go through a whole medical clearance like we did before we started. On Thursday a team of people from Washington, D.C. arrived to assist with paperwork and to tell us about our options. Some people will be signing up for a year or two in another PC country. Some people are going straight home to the states, and others will stay and travel for a while. We are still trying to figure out exactly what we're doing, but we're definitely going to travel around South and Central America before coming home. We may even go back to our site briefly to finish the mural, shift around some of our belongings, and say goodbye more thoroughly. Roque is safe in Cochabamba with a PC staff member's family and he will most likely be brought to the US by said staff in October. All 110 volunteers are staying in the same place, so we've been able to hang out and do a bit of much-needed processing.
Leading up to our evacuation, tension had been building in Bolivia for a couple of weeks. We had been cut off from our regional city by multiple bloqueos. There was even a roadblock in El Puente that had lasted three days. We saw a rock fight break out between those maintaining the bloqueos and those trying to pass through and we heard dynamite go off at night in an effort to scare people from trying to pass. We were put on alert by the Peace Corps on Sept 10th and then moved up to "standfast" on the 11th. That evening we got a call from our project director, who wanted us to pack right away to get to another town that night so we could catch a morning bus to Cochabamba. Normally we would go to Tarija, which is about 4 hours by bus compared to the 18 or so it would take us to get to Cochabamba. The reason they wanted us to go to Cochabamba by land is that the roads were blocked between us and Tarija and the airport in Tarija had been taken over by protesters. Since we weren't comfortable trying to cross the dynamite infused bloqueo at night, we decide to pack and depart the next morning. We were able to say goodbye to most of our friends and co-workers that morning and miraculously flagged down a taxi to take us north almost immediately. We took that taxi to Villa Abecia, about 30 minutes up the road, then transferred to a small van to travel another hour to Camargo where we spent the night. The next day, we took a bus from there to Potosi (about 4 hours) where a PC employee drove us the remaining 9 hours to Cochabamba.
Somewhere in between Potosà and Cochabamba we pulled over by the side of the road to go to the bathroom. Roque had been stirring in his crate and meowing a lot so we thought he might need to go as well. So we put his crate on the ground and opened the door. He timidly came out, but once he realized he was outside he took off! Luckily it was a full moon that night so we could see him. We tried to sneak up on him, but everytime we got close he´d walk further into the desolate wasteland. Finally I made a wide path around in front of him and was able to corner him between some scrub brush. We put him immediately back into his crate without him getting a chance to use the bathroom. We were relieved that he´d be coming with us instead of living a short life in the altiplano as condor fodder.
Upon arrival in Cochabamba, we got to sleep around 3am and had to get up for an 8am meeting where we were informed that we were, in fact, being evacuated. A group of about 70 volunteers left for Peru that morning, and the rest of us were consolidated at a hotel until the next day when our flight would depart. The really amazing part of the evacuation process is that we were flown to Peru on a military plane. Here we are waiting at the Cochabamba airport to be picked up. The arrival of our plane in Cochabamba was delayed because they were having trouble receiving clearance for our Bolivian military plane to enter Peruvian airspace. We were at the airport for about 6 hours before it finally arrived. We were fed pizza and American candy while we waited. From left: Kilo, Miguel, Marcos, Rachel
It was a special treat that the back of the C130 was aligned with a view of Tunari, the peak in Cochabamba that Mark climbed on two occasions.
This is what the hatch of the back of the plane looked like from the inside once it was closed.
Apparently the C130 is often included in military chants, such as: "C130 flyin' down the strip Cuerpo de Paz gonna take a little trip..."
Click on the arrow to see a video tour of the inside of the C130- yes it was that loud.
There were 44 of us on this flight. The flight that left the day before involved over 70 evacuees.
We were invited to visit the cockpit 2-by-2. I was impressed that there were 5 military personnel in there. This plane was built in 1959, but it had been updated with GPS navigation technology as well. We learned that it was actually an American-built plane that had been sold to the Bolivian military under the condition that it was available for use by the US military when necessary. The view out the back of the plane when we arrived in Lima about 3 hours later.
Lima Air Force Base.
Upon arrival we were debriefed by officials from the US Embassy, US Air Force, and Peace Corps Peru. After getting our passports stamped with a 6-month Peruvian visa, we were whisked away to the "vacation center." It must have been a small university at some point, but had been converted into a hotel/event center. Each day buses of Peruvian kids would arrive to ride horses and play in the pool. We were staying in a dorm room and others were in small cabins with shared baths. Our meals were served in a dining commons and the wait staff were pretty tired of us by the time we left. We are now staying at a smaller hostel in the heart of Miraflores- a pretty touristy area of Lima.
It was nice to be in the same place as all the other volunteers while we wrapped up our service. We had several opportunities to meet with the volunteers we went through training with to share our experiences and feelings about moving on from Bolivia. I was really impressed that the majority of people are either going back to Bolivia for some reason or are pursuing Peace Corps service in other countries. Towards the end of our time together, we were a bit bogged down with administrative tasks and paperwork, but we still found time to get together to play the blues, wax nostalgic about our interrupted service, and compare future plans.
The team from Peace Corps Washington, D.C. facilitated the purchase of shirts for all the volunteers and Bolivian staff. Here's a picture we took before people started leaving on Sunday. Tonight, reality began to set in as we accompanied Stephanie and Christian to the Lima airport to put them on their flights back to the states. They were both Tarija volunteers that we'd come to know and love. From left to right: Ellen, Marcos, Emelia, Stephanie, Alana, Christian. It was sad to see them leave South America and we again recognized how lucky we are to be able to travel for a little longer before heading back to full-time American life. During a short souvenir shopping spree with Stephanie, I realized how we're quickly blending in with the backpacker population. Vendors refused to speak Spanish with us, insisting on using English to negotiate prices. We found ourselves yelling across plazas to pass on messages to our fellow travelers. And most shockingly, everything is SO expensive here compared to Bolivia. We've started making plans for the next few weeks- head to the US Embassy tomorrow to renew our personal passports (our PC-issued passports are only valid for 89 more days), get ourselves to La Paz so that Mark and some friends can climb Huayna Potosi at over 6000m, and then to our site before October 10th so that we can have Peace Corps ship our non-travel belongings home for us. The other reason for getting back to El Puente is so that we can put the finishing touches on the world map mural. Only about half of the countries were labelled and we had run out of yellow paint for the flag border. I expect we'll be able to finish it up in two weeks or less. We've been watching Bolivia on the news and it seems that most of the turmoil continues to be concentrated in Santa Cruz and Pando. Our Peace Corps contacts within Bolivia have also given us confidence that we will be fine getting there and out again without worrying about our safety more than usual.
We're flip-flopping about what to do with Roque. He's apparently adjusting well to his host family in Cochabamba, so we're considering the possibility of letting him go to save him from a long series of flights and moving around the states while we get settled. But as soon as we see a picture or video of him on our camera we can't imagine leaving him behind. He's only been a part of our family for a few months, but he was a great source of comfort and fun.
Here's something totally ridiculous I trained him to do back in El Puente... or did he train me? (basket elevator video-coming soon)
This morning as we settled down for breakfast (at 10am, a little later than usual), a man walked up to our screen door.He was trying to open the door to come in, so I asked if I could help him with something.He said yes and continued trying to open the door.Since I was still in my pajamas, Mark came over to talk to him.The man asked, “Hay almuerzo?”“Is lunch available?” and Mark replied with a firm no, adding that we’re not a restaurant- we live here.Mark pointed out to him where he could get something to eat.Our neighbor, Dementia, commented that we should cook some food to sell, since there is a bloqueo out by one of the bridges that’s keeping people here.Not wanting to turn our room into an eatery or strain our already dwindling resources, we decided not to take advantage of the business opportunity.
I’m in Tarija right now and I got to watch Barack Obama accept the nomination to be the democratic presidential candidate. I’m going to buy some (hopefully) final materials for the mural including clear varnish to protect it from the elements. I got to spend almost two weeks in site with Mark before coming here and it was so nice to settle back into our somewhat domestic lifestyle. In particular, I missed cooking together and just having those little conversations that pop up when you spend 24 hours a day together. I did some laundry, which reminded me how tiring it can be to wash clothes by hand in cold water. Still, I felt that I’d accomplished something that day. We worked on the mural, completing about half of the flag border. It will be composed of about 200 international flags, each about 5 X 7 cm.
I realized I've never posted a picture of where this mural is located. Here is the view of the school building as you approach it from the center of town. There’s been a bit more political turbulence lately in Bolivia, since the recall vote on August 10. We were sent to Santa Cruz with all other volunteers during this time, since there was some question over whether everything would pass tranquilamente. Ironically, the only violence we saw on TV was that of South Georgia, our new country director’s previous residence. During “consolidation” we attended project workshops, safety update meetings, watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, and commiserated with our fellow volunteers. It was nice to meet the volunteers who have entered the country more recently than us. We also spent a decent amount of time by the pool. It was a bit surreal because we had taken over this resort about an hour outside the city of Santa Cruz. It barely felt like we were in Bolivia, except that the meals were lacking in vegetables besides potatoes. Here's one of the main buildings we had our meetings in, plus a picture of all 150 or so of the volunteers listening attentively to something. Once the word came through from DC that we were okay to head back to our sites, the flights were arranged and we were out of there. We did a little shopping in Tarija and then headed back to our site with Roque.It’s crazy to think that we have only a little more than 7 months left in our service here. We’re starting to think about where we might travel on our way home, which is exciting and intimidating at the same time. We’ve talked about traveling around south america and then possibly driving home from Panama. We’ll see what really happens when the time comes. I’ve been working on my watercolor skills, since it’s pricey and tricky to get a hold of oil painting materials here. I’ve also gotten a copy of Photoshop and Illustrator (thanks to my parents and a fellow volunteer/courier) that I plan on training myself with to see what I might do as a professional artist. The process of designing and painting this mural has gotten me thinking about what it’s be like to take myself more seriously as an artist/designer. It’s been particularly rewarding to be doing this project at a school, where it naturally lends itself to conversations in English, discussions of worldly things, and fun. On August 15th, El Puente celebrated St. Roque's Day. I don't know too much about Catholic saints, but in Bolivia at least, this is the story. San Roque was a leper with a very loyal dog. So loyal that it followed him when he had to move into a leper colony and the dog brought him bread everyday (I haven't met a Bolivian dog who could hold bread in his mouth without eating it). The dog would lick Roque's wounds and they would miraculously heal. I may have missed a part of the story but it sounds like the dog should be the saint rather than Roque. The way this is celebrated is by honoring dogs. In Tarija there's actually a parade with decorated dogs and men in shrouds to hide their symbolic leprosy. The men carry sticks that they flick, which was supposedly what lepers used to have to do to warn people they were around. In El Puente, all we saw were decorated dogs, no parades. Here are our landlady's dogs, proud of their colorful collars. The main thing I've been focusing on with the school garden this year, instead of weed pulling, is the introduction of broccoli. They've been growing cauliflower, but they didn't know what broccoli was! So I bought some seeds in Tarija, planted them in my home garden and transplanted them into the school's garden. I wasn't sure if they'd survive the shock of being transplanted, but here they are. The first batch yielded 9 plants, and I've got 8 more to transplant when I get back. I bought Roque a little shirt at the festival of all things miniature, Santa Anita. He was not amused. I guess it restricted his arms a little and threw off his balance, so he couldn't walk without falling over. I took it off of him promptly after this photo was taken.
I've been working on this post for quite some time and have finally had the time and internet access to finish it...
So back in February while descending a local peak with my friend Dan I slipped a little and felt a strange sensation in my right knee. My knees usually hurt on decents and I didn´t really think it was anything out of the ordinary. I was wrong. I would find out a few months later that I had a grade II meniscus tear and a slight ACL tear. Damn.
My knees were sore for a few days after the hike, but again I thought it within the realm of normal. The soreness went away and I thought everything was fine. About ten days after the hike, my right knee started to swell up and became warm to the touch. It hurt pretty much all the time and was even uncomfortable to lay in bed. Strangely, at the same time I was having a weird thing going on with my left thumb. It's hard to describe, but basically every morning my thumb would be "stuck" in an extended position. I could bend it, but it was painful and felt like it needed to pop. I could feel and see the knuckle "jumping" every time I flexed my thumb. After about an hour or so it would gradually loosen up and work normally, but then be sore later in the day.
I have arthritis in my family and at first we thought I was just experiencing symptoms at a young age. I was a little bummed out at the thought of arthritis at 32 and hoped it was something different. We also thought maybe gout since I was experiencing symptoms in multiple joints. (Another member in our group was diagnosed with gout during training.)
The first week of March I went into Tarija for tests. I met with an orthopedist, had X-rays taken of my knees and hands, and blood tests to check for gout. Unfortunately, there was no MRI machine in Tarija. Everything came back negative. The X-rays showed no bone damage, the blood test revealed no gout. The doctor diagnosed my thumb as "pulga agitado" -- stuck thumb -- and tendonitis in my knee. He prescribed me 14 sessions of physical therapy.
The PT was almost a joke. It was in a beauty-salon-type-place where I received a vigorous daily massage of my knee and thumb, a mud/herb wrap, ultrasound, and a donut shaped "healing magnet" placed around said joints. My therapist, Rene, had treated many PC volunteers over the years and knew much more gossip than I had ever heard. Oh yeah, the place was located on the fourth floor of a building with no elevator. So after the two weeks of PT neither my thumb nor my knee were really feeling any better. Luckily, we were about to attend our one-year medical checkups in Cochabamba where we could see specialists and have a more complete physical.
In Cochabamba I was diagnosed with a cyst in my thumb and authorized for an MRI on my knee. The docs said I had a cyst growing on the tendon that moves the thumb back and forth. The cyst was preventing my thumb from extending and my options were minor surgery or a cortisone shot to shrink it down. The cortisone shot would be a temporary solution and the docs said it would be painful but would restore full movement to my thumb. I had the cortisone shot, it hurt, and like magic one day later my thumb was back to normal. Erica and I took our Costa Rican vacation and after we returned to Bolivia I had the MRI completed in La Paz. It was exciting having an MRI, my first, and feeling that I would finally understand what was going on with my knee.
Two weeks later the PC doctors called from Cochabamba and confirmed the injury to my knee. They told me that I would be authorized to have surgery in either Washington DC or Panama. Within a week I found out I would be medi-vac'd to Panama for knee surgery.
Because PC has the policy that we must always fly on US based airlines whenever possible I was to fly to Panama via Miami. I spent a few hours in the Miami airport for my first time in the US since January 2007. I had a Caesar salad and visited the Starbucks while generally being in awe at the cleanliness and efficiency of the United States.
I arrived in Panama late on a Wednesday night and was met at the airport by PC Panama medical staff who drove me to the hotel I would end up staying in for a month. Friday I had a new MRI done, since they said the Bolivian MRI was "horrible."
I went to the mall and saw some movies over the weekend. I was awed at the size of the mall and the bus station. I also went to see the wreckage of a helicoptor that crashed in the city the first day I was there.
I met with the surgeon the following Monday and was scheduled for arthoscopic knee surgery on Thursday. I had never had surgery before and was pretty scared. I asked many questions and talked as much as I could with Erica who had stayed behind in Bolivia. I was a little upset at the discrepancies that were coming up between the medical info I received in Bolivia and the new info from Panama. In Bolivia I was told the procedure would only require local anesthesia, I would only spend one night in the hospital, and all my rehab would be done in Bolivia. In Panama the doctors told me I would be placed under general anesthesia, I would spend multiple nights in the hospital, and my weeks of rehab would take place in Panama. We tried during the last days to have Erica make the trip to Panama, but it just did not work out.
I checked into the hospital with the help of Ricardo, the PC Panama medical assistant. We became friends during the month I spent there and he was wonderful in getting me to appointments, visiting me in the hospital, and just providing support. PC Panama alternates between two hospitals and I had the fortune of being in turn for the new, lujo (luxurious) Johns Hopkins hospital.
(PC Panama office, Ricardo and I, Johns Hopkins hospital)
I checked in and that same say had my surgery. It was a quick procedure and everything went well. I was pretty out of it the first night but felt OK and was able to receive calls in my room from Erica, my mom, and Erica's mom. They all helped me to feel better and were relieved to know the surgery went well.
(My surgeon, Dr. Samuel Edwards, and me just after the surgery)
I felt much better the second day and began my PT in the hospital on day three. I had crutches to get around the room and had to use this funny chair for my first showers.
The nurses were all very nice and helpful and were attentive to any need I had. I ended up spending four nights in the hospital and was discharged Monday around noon. Ricardo was there to pick me up and take me back to the hotel. My first few days back in the hotel were difficult. I no longer had the help of the nurses, or three meals being delivered to my room. I also had to get myself to the hospital complex for my continuing PT. I used crutches for the first week, then a cane for the next ten days. The PT in Panama was excellent. I had ultrasound, electric muscle stimulation, and multiple machines to use to begin strengthening my leg and knee.
(View from roof of hotel)
When I was just about finished with the PT, after a month in Panama, I received the news that my brother had lost his battle with cancer. Steve was diagnosed with intestinal cancer in December of 2006. Erica and I traveled to San Diego to visit with him and his family before we left the country in Jan 07. My sister Rebecca kept me up to date via email and ocasional phone conversations while we were in Bolivia. Steve had multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, and some holistic medicine. Throughout his illness he improved at times and always kept an incredible attitude and fighting spirit. He passed away on June 24, 2008.
PC Washington received the phone call from my sister and within 24 hours I was on a plane from Panama heading for San Diego. PC Bolivia also sprung into action and within six hours had sent someone to pick up Erica from our little town and she was on a plane 36 hours later. I arrived in San Diego a day before her and we met up at the San Diego airport after being apart for just over a month. The unexpected trip home was surreal. I was grateful that we had spent time with Steve before we left the country but incredibly sad that I was not there during his hardest time.
We spent a few days in San Diego with family and attending Steve's services. It was a very emotional time for us.
In San Diego Erica and I stayed at a Best Value Inn. It was by far the nicest accommodations we'd had since we first left the US.
In San Diego I spent time with my sisters and was treated to a great birthday dinner complete with an ice cream cake.
Erica and I left San Diego and traveled north to spend some more time with our families and see friends. We did not have a car or a cell phone so we used all sorts of public transportation and pay phones. Riding the train from San Diego to LA was quite nice as it was right along the coast.
Riding Greyhound from LA to Sacramento was not quite as enjoyable. We visited with some friends in LA and I got to drive my truck around. It was a bit surreal to be driving again after a year and a half.
(Fun with Greyhound)
We had a dinner with my dad and his family in Stockton and then he drove us up to my mom's house in Cameron Park. We settled down for a few days, celebrated the 4th of July, and got to spend a day with our dog Luna at Folsom Lake.
Erica's parents picked us up in Sacramento and we headed to their house in Livermore. We had a few more days with her family and saw some friends in the Bay area.
Since I had come to the US while on medi-vac status, I had to return to Panama to receive the "all-clear" from the PC doctors. I left the US July 9th and returned to Panama to complete the medical clearance process. Thankfully, the PC Panama staff was aware of my desire to return to Bolivia and get back to my work. They expedited the process, I met with the doctors and was medically cleared on the 11th. I spent the weekend taking in some of the sights of Panama city and Sunday July 13, my 33rd birthday, I was on my way back to Bolivia.
Because PC Panama worked quickly my flight plan was a bit crazy. I left Panama city at 3:00AM, arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica at 5:00AM, had a four hour layover, then on to Lima, Peru, where I had a 10 hour layover. Finally I arrived in Santa Cruz, Bolivia just after 2:00AM. I was exhausted but happy to be back in Bolivia.
During my birthday on the planes I felt like quite the experienced South American traveler. Since Erica and I had recently been to Costa Rica and we had taken our honeymoon in Peru a few years prior I felt comfortable in both places. I passed through customs in both countries and went into the cities for food. In San Jose I knew there was a Denny's a short walk from the airport and went there for breakfast.
In Lima, Erica and I had discovered a wonderful Chinese restaurant and I was able to successfully navigate the city buses to find it again. I enjoyed a dinner of spring rolls and stir fry beef noodles and walked around the historic city center. The food was as tasty as I ever remembered. By the time I cleared customs in Bolivia I had stamps from four countries in 24 hours.
It took another day for me to fly to Tarija where I was finally able to see my friends and feel like I was home. The docs in Panama had prescribed me another week of PT to be done in Bolivia so I spent the week in the city and was able to meet Erica at the airport when she arrived from the US.
A few days passed and we found out that all the volunteers were being moved to Santa Cruz in case violence broke out during national elections. We had a multiple day conference, got to meet new volunteers, and were again reunited with friends from our group who we rarely see. Finally we left Santa Cruz, flew back to Tarija, and headed back to our real home of El Puente.
I was very excited to get home as I had been gone for almost two months. Our first few days back in town I realized again the joys of living in such a unique environment. In the 500-person town of El Puente we are close with only a few families, yet I would guess that everyone knows who we are. I had many people greet me, welcome me back, ask about my knee and wish me well. I felt missed and appreciated and proud that we had succeeded in becoming part of their community.
I got back to my routine of reading, exercising, meditating, cooking, and working. I also had picked up a harmonica and some books and began teaching myself how to play. I helped Erica with the mural and got back to assisting the high school english teacher with his lessons and skills. Our friend Dan came out and visited and we worked on the mural and hiked a mountain I had been eyeing for some time.
I was eager to test out my knee and my new treking poles that my mom had bought for my b-day. What a great feeling it was to hike another 10,000 ft mountain and have absolutely no pain in my knee. Thank you Dr. Edwards for fixing my knee!
(The mountain)
(Views from top)
Dan is a great guitar player and while he was visiting I had my first chance to play harmonica with some backup. We also went over to the house of a local family that we are close with. The two boys had asked me in the past to help them learn to read music. They have an electric bass and guitar, and keyboard, and a full drum set. When I had visited before I had my trumpet and it was difficult to play with them. This time was different. Dan and Erica took turns on the guitar, I played harmonica, and Erica even played set for a little while. Before long Dan had taught the older son, Reynaldo, the basic blues bassline and we were off. It was amazing. I doubt they had ever heard the blues and most certainly had never played them. Dan also showed the chords for Wild Thing and we took turns soloing and backing each other up. The younger son, Leopoldo, is quite a good drummer and he was able to keep up and add some of his own style. The mom and dad came in and were speechless. She brought us some of her fresh baked bread and tea and we shared a very special evening. They had never seen a harmonica and I encouraged them all to try it. The younger sister, Elida, was the most curious and she had a great ear and was able to play along. Unfortunately we did not take any pictures, but we did videotape a bit of the jam session. I think it will prove to be one of our favorite moments captured on film.
Erica and I spent two more weeks in El Puente, playing the blues almost daily and loving our new hobby. We had been in site just over a month when the political atmosphere began to rapidly deteriorate. There were marches and protests in the main cities and bloqueos throughout the country. We experienced our second bloqueo in El Puente complete with dynamite and we watched a frightening rock fight between opposing groups. A few days later the US ambassador was expelled and then PC called us all to Cochabamba for safety and possible evacuation. You are probably already aware of what happened next.
We will write about that experience in a separate post. I'll close with a picture of our neighbor and friend Dementia and her son who had come to visit a few weeks before everything changed.
We were fortunate to return to our hostel just as a group of friends was setting out for southern Peru. Our bags were already packed and we took advantage of our newly gifted freedom and made the decision to join our friends on the road...
