"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same" - Anonymous
Many people never travel in their lives further than the next city or state. Some do not have the urge to leave the comforts of home for the unknown. Others do not dare to subject their world-views to the confrontation of an alternate reality outside of their know sphere. Still, some simply do not burn with the desire to see other places and blame their lack of desire on the lack of time and money.
Then, there are people who make the choice to travel and see the world outside of their comfort zone. Some do it because they are told that travel is good for the mind and soul. Sometimes they travel with closed eyes and closed mind; they insist that their comfort zone is better and pity anyone not within it. To them, travel is a challenge, a dare to the world - even a bragging right.Travel may open their eyes to reality around them; however, it also may not.
The other type of a person who chooses to travel is one affected with wanderlust. This person wants to see life as it exists outside of his culture. He travels with an open mind and open eyes and is ready to see and accept other cultural traditions without derisive sneering and comparing other cultures to his own. He does not challenge or dare the world - he challenges himself to learn and understand life in our diverse and awe-inspiring planet. This person is exited about meeting new people and making friends in places other than his comfort zone because people are the key to understanding other cultures.
I never really understood the age-old wisdom that travel changes people until this summer when I spent more than two months in South America. Immersing myself in a different culture, meeting new people, and exploring heights of unknown changed my perception of myself and the world around me. This change wasn't an all-explosive revelation of some grander truth. As I left South America, I still felt much like the same person that came there. However, my experiences in South America subtly allowed me to develop a different attitude about life. In many ways, this trip was the transition into adulthood. This summer was the first time I traveled out of the country without the supervision of my parents to take care of me every step of the way. Even though I traveled with my profesors and my friends, I still had to make my own decisions and take care of myself. The biggest thing that I learned from this summer is to trust and respect myself, and I hope I can carry this lesson with me throughout my life.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Between the two hemispheres.
"You can fall in love at first sight with a place as with a person" - Alec Waugh
I spent the last month in Quito, an Ecuadorian capital city located on the ecuator. While Quito is almost as high up in the Andean mountains as La Paz, my experiences in the capital cities of the two Latin American states were different in many ways. In La Paz I had more free time to explore the city, and living in downtown helped me to get out on my own and explore. In Quito I had little time to explore because I had class for five hours a day and lived in the suburbs of the city. There, I mostly hung out with my host family and got to know family life in Ecuador, which was a very fun experience.
Quito is a beautiful city with a rich historical and cultural backgrounds. My first memory of Quito is the tour of the historical center - the heart of the Ecuadorian capital. There are giant cathedrals and old churches constructed in the gorgeous style of the colonial architecture on every street of the historical center, sometimes more than one per street. Many of these have priceless paintings and artifacts, dating back to 1500s.
After touring the historical center of Quito, we went to the ecuator line that divides the city into northern and southern hemispheres. Basically, that means that it is winter in southern half of Ecuador and summer in the northern half.
Another flashback that stands out in my mind is the first day at the University of San Francisco de Quito. This is one of the most expensive private colleges in Quito - the tuition alone costs around $10,000 a semester. Even though USFQ is tiny, the campus is gorgeous, with beautiful landscaping, a pond, and a pagoda.
My last memory of Quito that I want to share is that of the Panecillo - a bread-shaped hill on the outskirts of town that has great views of the entire city. On top of the hill, there is a statue of the Virgin of Panecillo, who watches over Quito. Even though we came to Panecillo on a cold and cloudy day, the views of Quito were still impressive. Through the dark cover of clouds and smog, the buildings spread out into the distance as far as the eye could see. Thousands of cars passed by on the highways below, all hurrying to get more than two million inhabitants of Quito to wherever they were going. Below only the Virgin of Panecillo, we watched life from the top of the world, it seemed.
I have many other memories of Quito and Ecuador; most of them come from spending time with my host family - playing games, learning to dance, watching movies, etc. I am grateful for those memories because the best travel experiences don't come from places themselves - they come from people you meet there. Traveling opens up new doors to different worlds -but the people are the keys to understanding new cultures.
I spent the last month in Quito, an Ecuadorian capital city located on the ecuator. While Quito is almost as high up in the Andean mountains as La Paz, my experiences in the capital cities of the two Latin American states were different in many ways. In La Paz I had more free time to explore the city, and living in downtown helped me to get out on my own and explore. In Quito I had little time to explore because I had class for five hours a day and lived in the suburbs of the city. There, I mostly hung out with my host family and got to know family life in Ecuador, which was a very fun experience.
Quito is a beautiful city with a rich historical and cultural backgrounds. My first memory of Quito is the tour of the historical center - the heart of the Ecuadorian capital. There are giant cathedrals and old churches constructed in the gorgeous style of the colonial architecture on every street of the historical center, sometimes more than one per street. Many of these have priceless paintings and artifacts, dating back to 1500s.
After touring the historical center of Quito, we went to the ecuator line that divides the city into northern and southern hemispheres. Basically, that means that it is winter in southern half of Ecuador and summer in the northern half.
Another flashback that stands out in my mind is the first day at the University of San Francisco de Quito. This is one of the most expensive private colleges in Quito - the tuition alone costs around $10,000 a semester. Even though USFQ is tiny, the campus is gorgeous, with beautiful landscaping, a pond, and a pagoda.
My last memory of Quito that I want to share is that of the Panecillo - a bread-shaped hill on the outskirts of town that has great views of the entire city. On top of the hill, there is a statue of the Virgin of Panecillo, who watches over Quito. Even though we came to Panecillo on a cold and cloudy day, the views of Quito were still impressive. Through the dark cover of clouds and smog, the buildings spread out into the distance as far as the eye could see. Thousands of cars passed by on the highways below, all hurrying to get more than two million inhabitants of Quito to wherever they were going. Below only the Virgin of Panecillo, we watched life from the top of the world, it seemed.
I have many other memories of Quito and Ecuador; most of them come from spending time with my host family - playing games, learning to dance, watching movies, etc. I am grateful for those memories because the best travel experiences don't come from places themselves - they come from people you meet there. Traveling opens up new doors to different worlds -but the people are the keys to understanding new cultures.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Chimborazo: a mountain closest to the sun
"You can never conquer a mountain. You can only conquer yourself" - James Whittaker
The past week I had spent in Riobamba, a settlement rich in history located at the foot of the Chimborazo volcano, a mountain of over 6300 meters. Due to the bulge at the equator, Chimborazo is the furthest point from the center of the earth and, therefore, the closest point to the sun. The volcano attracts many mountain climbers as the climb offers amazing views of the Ecuadorian Andes. However, everyone climbs at his own risk as Chimborazo is still an active volcano - the last eruption occured in 2006 and destroyed many indigenous settlements in the area.
We left Quito early Friday morning and made our first stop three hours later at a house of an indigenous shaman. He showed us his small farm with a garden of native Ecuadorian herbs and a few skinny goats, pigs, and cuys (guiney pigs, a delicacy in Ecuador). He also showed us how to make shampoo out of the aloe roots - he beat the roots with a stone, rubbed them together vigorously, and then the mixture became shampoo. The things one can make with a simple plant root are pretty amazing. To end our tour, the shaman offered to cleanse the energy of one volunteer in our group. After a few minutes of nervous silence, a brave soul volunteered for the procedure. She walked in a cross over a bowl with a burning flame and stopped in front of the shaman. He blessed her with tree branches and spit aloe vera juice in her face. We left the shaman's house and continued on to our hotel in Riobamba where we got lunch and had a city tour.
Even though Riobamba is one of the five biggest cities in Ecuador, the place is more a relic of history than a booming city of modernity. There are some museums, churches, and a beautiful colonial center but not much else. Honestly, I liked Quito much better. We finished our city tour and went to sleep early to be ready in the morning to scale the Chimborazo.
Next morning we left our hotel at 8:30 a.m. and rode up the windy mountain road to the towering volcano of ice and clouds. We got out at the first shelter at 4200 meters and, after the ritual partaking of coca tea, began the arduous climb to the second shelter at 5000 meters. The short climb took almost an hour of covering the distance step by step and many rests. The towering peak of Chimborazo, hidden behind an ocean of clouds, laughed at our puny efforts to conquer it. On our trek up the mountain I talked to the guide and learned an interesting indigenous legend of the mountain. Apparently, Chimborazo is a god in indigenous mythology and its mate is called Cotopaxi, another volcano nearby. One day many, many centuries ago Chimborazo caught Cotopaxi with somebody else and, in anger, turned her into a mountain. However, he did not want to live without her, and he himself turned into a mountain. The indigenous people in the area go to Chimborazo in order to cleanse their energies and to ask the god for favors - there are ruins of the indigenous temples in Chimborazo, but they are on the other side of the mountain and very hard to reach.
We reached the second shelter of Chimborazo and went a little further to maybe 5200 meters, but we had to return to the bus. I was slightly dissapointed - I really wanted to climb to the top. Chimborazo is a good mountain to climb for beginners - it does not require any special equipment, and a climber can just hike to the top if properly acclimatized. One day I want to come back and reach the top of Chimborazo - a hike of approximately seven hours. We came back down (a lot harder than coming up because of the strong wind hitting the back) and proceeded to the next stop on our journey - the visit with the last ice merchant of Ecuador.
Once upon a time all the ice in Ecuador was provided by the ice merchants - indigenous men who went up the Chimborazo volcano to mine ice at the top. They climbed to the top of the mountain everyday, broke off blocks of ice from the glaciers, rolled them up in hay to prevent melting, and brought ice down to the market to sell it. Over time the practice died out as ice became a factory-sold commodity and today there is only one ice merchant in Ecuador - Balthazar. We visited his house high up in the Andes and met him and his family. The man is over seventy years old, but still he climbs the Chimborazo twice a week and brings ice down to the supermarket. He can't make much money because he can't compete with the prices of factory-produced ice, but he still persists in this centuries-old tradition. Meeting Balthazar was a fascinating experience for me - he is a part of ancient history that refuses to bow down to the demands of modernity and resists change in his lifestyle passed down to him by his ancestors.
Going back to the hotel from Balthazar's house, I had much food for thought as I stared at the patchwork quilts of green and yellow mountains. I thought about how important is the respect for yourself and who you are in this world. Like one of the three biblical magi that granted gifts to baby Jesus (the name Balthazar is a biblical allusion to the tree wise men), the last ice merchant appeared in our lives for a brief instant and showed us the wisdom of knowing and respecting who you are and where you come from. Because if you don't respect yourself how can you expect somebody else to respect you?
The past week I had spent in Riobamba, a settlement rich in history located at the foot of the Chimborazo volcano, a mountain of over 6300 meters. Due to the bulge at the equator, Chimborazo is the furthest point from the center of the earth and, therefore, the closest point to the sun. The volcano attracts many mountain climbers as the climb offers amazing views of the Ecuadorian Andes. However, everyone climbs at his own risk as Chimborazo is still an active volcano - the last eruption occured in 2006 and destroyed many indigenous settlements in the area.
We left Quito early Friday morning and made our first stop three hours later at a house of an indigenous shaman. He showed us his small farm with a garden of native Ecuadorian herbs and a few skinny goats, pigs, and cuys (guiney pigs, a delicacy in Ecuador). He also showed us how to make shampoo out of the aloe roots - he beat the roots with a stone, rubbed them together vigorously, and then the mixture became shampoo. The things one can make with a simple plant root are pretty amazing. To end our tour, the shaman offered to cleanse the energy of one volunteer in our group. After a few minutes of nervous silence, a brave soul volunteered for the procedure. She walked in a cross over a bowl with a burning flame and stopped in front of the shaman. He blessed her with tree branches and spit aloe vera juice in her face. We left the shaman's house and continued on to our hotel in Riobamba where we got lunch and had a city tour.
Even though Riobamba is one of the five biggest cities in Ecuador, the place is more a relic of history than a booming city of modernity. There are some museums, churches, and a beautiful colonial center but not much else. Honestly, I liked Quito much better. We finished our city tour and went to sleep early to be ready in the morning to scale the Chimborazo.
Next morning we left our hotel at 8:30 a.m. and rode up the windy mountain road to the towering volcano of ice and clouds. We got out at the first shelter at 4200 meters and, after the ritual partaking of coca tea, began the arduous climb to the second shelter at 5000 meters. The short climb took almost an hour of covering the distance step by step and many rests. The towering peak of Chimborazo, hidden behind an ocean of clouds, laughed at our puny efforts to conquer it. On our trek up the mountain I talked to the guide and learned an interesting indigenous legend of the mountain. Apparently, Chimborazo is a god in indigenous mythology and its mate is called Cotopaxi, another volcano nearby. One day many, many centuries ago Chimborazo caught Cotopaxi with somebody else and, in anger, turned her into a mountain. However, he did not want to live without her, and he himself turned into a mountain. The indigenous people in the area go to Chimborazo in order to cleanse their energies and to ask the god for favors - there are ruins of the indigenous temples in Chimborazo, but they are on the other side of the mountain and very hard to reach.
We reached the second shelter of Chimborazo and went a little further to maybe 5200 meters, but we had to return to the bus. I was slightly dissapointed - I really wanted to climb to the top. Chimborazo is a good mountain to climb for beginners - it does not require any special equipment, and a climber can just hike to the top if properly acclimatized. One day I want to come back and reach the top of Chimborazo - a hike of approximately seven hours. We came back down (a lot harder than coming up because of the strong wind hitting the back) and proceeded to the next stop on our journey - the visit with the last ice merchant of Ecuador.
Once upon a time all the ice in Ecuador was provided by the ice merchants - indigenous men who went up the Chimborazo volcano to mine ice at the top. They climbed to the top of the mountain everyday, broke off blocks of ice from the glaciers, rolled them up in hay to prevent melting, and brought ice down to the market to sell it. Over time the practice died out as ice became a factory-sold commodity and today there is only one ice merchant in Ecuador - Balthazar. We visited his house high up in the Andes and met him and his family. The man is over seventy years old, but still he climbs the Chimborazo twice a week and brings ice down to the supermarket. He can't make much money because he can't compete with the prices of factory-produced ice, but he still persists in this centuries-old tradition. Meeting Balthazar was a fascinating experience for me - he is a part of ancient history that refuses to bow down to the demands of modernity and resists change in his lifestyle passed down to him by his ancestors.
Going back to the hotel from Balthazar's house, I had much food for thought as I stared at the patchwork quilts of green and yellow mountains. I thought about how important is the respect for yourself and who you are in this world. Like one of the three biblical magi that granted gifts to baby Jesus (the name Balthazar is a biblical allusion to the tree wise men), the last ice merchant appeared in our lives for a brief instant and showed us the wisdom of knowing and respecting who you are and where you come from. Because if you don't respect yourself how can you expect somebody else to respect you?
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Under the cupola of the canopy.
"What is the law of the jungle? Strike first and then give tongue." - Rudyard Kipling
This weekend our group of almost-fourty students traveled to a biological diversity station Tiputini in the middle of the Amazon jungles. We left Quito at 10 a.m. after a short delay and arrived in a small Ecuadorian town of Coca after a thirty-minute flight. Stepping out of the airplane in Coca felt like coming home to Mississippi - the temperature and the humidity were outrageous in comparison to the moderate climate of the mountain region of Latin America.
After getting out of the airport, I got my first taste of the jungle seeing a little boy play with a bug that was almost his size. The film Supersize Me came to mind, and the phrase became the slogan for my journey into the deep Amazon. A bus took us to the boat terminal, and we got on a small canoe in order to travel for two hours on the Napo River. Almost everybody was super exited for the trip - we took many pictures of the banks of the river and fantasized about wild adventures in the jungle. Finally, we arrived to the station of the oil company in order to embaque on the next stage on our journey - the chiva bus (an open bus). We had to go through the security of the oil company, and we were not allowed to take any pictures on the territory of the oil company for the purposes of security of this lucrative drilling business. We squeezed onto the chiva bus (barely) and began the drive further into the jungle. Trees and bushes with giant leaves passed by in a whirl as the bus speeded along the gravel road. After two hours on the bumpy road, we arrived at a bridge of the Tiputini River. Sitting on the side of the road, two indigenous women stared at our group of gringos with interest. We got on another canoe to complete our long journey to the remote station of Tiputini. As we neared the final destination of our voyage, the jungle warmly welcomed us with a torrential downpour. Floating down a river in a canoe with rain coming from everywhere is not the greatest adventure in the world. All my things were soaked; and, they did not dry for four day because of the high humidity in the jungle. I think that some of my clothes grew mold.
We finally arrived at the Tiputini station in the late afternoon. The manager of the station gave us a short orientation about the rules of the jungle and lead us to our cabins. Because the station has its own generator, the electricity only works for about six hours a day so that the researchers can do their investigations. The cabins had no hot water and smelled a little moldy. The manager also recommended that we put our technology (ipods, phones, and cameras) in a dry box in the library to avoid humidity damage. Later that night we had a presentation about the exiting creatures that we may or may not see in the forest. We went to sleep early because there is little to do in Tiputini after dark.
The next morning we woke up at 6:00 a.m. because breakfast was exactly at 6:30. After breakfast we put on our rubber boots and went off into the depths of the jungle with our guide. The first place we explored was the Tower - a 46-meter-high construction which allows to observe the animals from above the canopy. Because I am not exactly comfortable with heights, I was slightly nervous about climbing the stairs to the top of the tower; however, the view from above proved to be worth the fear. The jungle reminds me of the ocean - the green tops of the trees spreads as far as the eye can see and merge with the bluish line of the horizon. The woods are full of unsolved mysteries and new discoveries. Far below the canopy, the forest is swarming with life that is unseen and sometimes unimaginable to human eyes. We stayed on top of the tower for more than an hour observing monkeys frolicking in the canopy and birds flying through the clear blue sky. When we descended from the tower, we followed our guide through the forest (making a pit stop to snack on lemon ants) and arrived back at the station for lunch.
After lunch we had a two-hour break to nap in our cabins or, in my case, walk around exploring and taking pictures. At 2:30 p.m. we went to a lagoon far away from the station. Our guide took us around the lagoon in a small canoe in order to try to show us more of the diverse wildlife. Unfortunately, the wildlife was not cooperating (hey, we were in a biological reserve not a zoo), and the most exotic animal we saw was a vulture. The rain started again while we were in the lagoon and we had to hike back to the station through the mud and the rain on sometimes almost vertical hills. When we got back to the station (suprisingly safe and sound), we were done with the excursions for the day.
The next morning we had a fish-feeding exercise. The guides took us out into the Tiputini River on a boat and threw us into the piranha-infested waters in case the piranhas were hungry. Luckily, the piranhas, the crocodiles, and the anacondas were busy with other prey; we survived the river float intact. However, I can't say the same for the stairs to the boat ramp - a guy in our group slipped and the entire platform of the staircase went down. Not surprising considering that the humudity in Tiputini is always over a hundred percent, and the staircase is made of wood.
After the surviving the morning excursion, we had lunch and once again went out into the depth of the Amazonian jungles. This afternoon we visited the bridges - a shaky walk over the canopy. Today we had harnesses for safety reasons, but I did not feel any safer. Nevertheless, the views of the jungle were very nice. That night after dinner we went on the night walk (with our guide of course). Walking through a dark jungle at night is a completely different kind of experience - the place seems almost unreal and otherworldly in the dim light of the moon. Our guide shined the flashlight the trees and the bushes, and a new world opened up before our eyes - a world of grasshoppers larger than my palm, of giant ants the size of my finger, and of butterflies that resembled dried leaves.
The jungles are a precious and an amazing natural environment that are nevertheless very fragile. From the ancient trees which roots drape the forest floor to the walking palms to the multitude of creatures that inhabit this environment, the jungles deserve to be protected for future generations from the threatening advance of civilization with the greed for natural resources. After three days in the jungle, I feel like it would never be possible to learn all the secrets that hide in the depth of the Amazon; I left in awe of this biological environment and the incredible diversity of flora and fauna.
This weekend our group of almost-fourty students traveled to a biological diversity station Tiputini in the middle of the Amazon jungles. We left Quito at 10 a.m. after a short delay and arrived in a small Ecuadorian town of Coca after a thirty-minute flight. Stepping out of the airplane in Coca felt like coming home to Mississippi - the temperature and the humidity were outrageous in comparison to the moderate climate of the mountain region of Latin America.
After getting out of the airport, I got my first taste of the jungle seeing a little boy play with a bug that was almost his size. The film Supersize Me came to mind, and the phrase became the slogan for my journey into the deep Amazon. A bus took us to the boat terminal, and we got on a small canoe in order to travel for two hours on the Napo River. Almost everybody was super exited for the trip - we took many pictures of the banks of the river and fantasized about wild adventures in the jungle. Finally, we arrived to the station of the oil company in order to embaque on the next stage on our journey - the chiva bus (an open bus). We had to go through the security of the oil company, and we were not allowed to take any pictures on the territory of the oil company for the purposes of security of this lucrative drilling business. We squeezed onto the chiva bus (barely) and began the drive further into the jungle. Trees and bushes with giant leaves passed by in a whirl as the bus speeded along the gravel road. After two hours on the bumpy road, we arrived at a bridge of the Tiputini River. Sitting on the side of the road, two indigenous women stared at our group of gringos with interest. We got on another canoe to complete our long journey to the remote station of Tiputini. As we neared the final destination of our voyage, the jungle warmly welcomed us with a torrential downpour. Floating down a river in a canoe with rain coming from everywhere is not the greatest adventure in the world. All my things were soaked; and, they did not dry for four day because of the high humidity in the jungle. I think that some of my clothes grew mold.
We finally arrived at the Tiputini station in the late afternoon. The manager of the station gave us a short orientation about the rules of the jungle and lead us to our cabins. Because the station has its own generator, the electricity only works for about six hours a day so that the researchers can do their investigations. The cabins had no hot water and smelled a little moldy. The manager also recommended that we put our technology (ipods, phones, and cameras) in a dry box in the library to avoid humidity damage. Later that night we had a presentation about the exiting creatures that we may or may not see in the forest. We went to sleep early because there is little to do in Tiputini after dark.
The next morning we woke up at 6:00 a.m. because breakfast was exactly at 6:30. After breakfast we put on our rubber boots and went off into the depths of the jungle with our guide. The first place we explored was the Tower - a 46-meter-high construction which allows to observe the animals from above the canopy. Because I am not exactly comfortable with heights, I was slightly nervous about climbing the stairs to the top of the tower; however, the view from above proved to be worth the fear. The jungle reminds me of the ocean - the green tops of the trees spreads as far as the eye can see and merge with the bluish line of the horizon. The woods are full of unsolved mysteries and new discoveries. Far below the canopy, the forest is swarming with life that is unseen and sometimes unimaginable to human eyes. We stayed on top of the tower for more than an hour observing monkeys frolicking in the canopy and birds flying through the clear blue sky. When we descended from the tower, we followed our guide through the forest (making a pit stop to snack on lemon ants) and arrived back at the station for lunch.
After lunch we had a two-hour break to nap in our cabins or, in my case, walk around exploring and taking pictures. At 2:30 p.m. we went to a lagoon far away from the station. Our guide took us around the lagoon in a small canoe in order to try to show us more of the diverse wildlife. Unfortunately, the wildlife was not cooperating (hey, we were in a biological reserve not a zoo), and the most exotic animal we saw was a vulture. The rain started again while we were in the lagoon and we had to hike back to the station through the mud and the rain on sometimes almost vertical hills. When we got back to the station (suprisingly safe and sound), we were done with the excursions for the day.
The next morning we had a fish-feeding exercise. The guides took us out into the Tiputini River on a boat and threw us into the piranha-infested waters in case the piranhas were hungry. Luckily, the piranhas, the crocodiles, and the anacondas were busy with other prey; we survived the river float intact. However, I can't say the same for the stairs to the boat ramp - a guy in our group slipped and the entire platform of the staircase went down. Not surprising considering that the humudity in Tiputini is always over a hundred percent, and the staircase is made of wood.
After the surviving the morning excursion, we had lunch and once again went out into the depth of the Amazonian jungles. This afternoon we visited the bridges - a shaky walk over the canopy. Today we had harnesses for safety reasons, but I did not feel any safer. Nevertheless, the views of the jungle were very nice. That night after dinner we went on the night walk (with our guide of course). Walking through a dark jungle at night is a completely different kind of experience - the place seems almost unreal and otherworldly in the dim light of the moon. Our guide shined the flashlight the trees and the bushes, and a new world opened up before our eyes - a world of grasshoppers larger than my palm, of giant ants the size of my finger, and of butterflies that resembled dried leaves.
The jungles are a precious and an amazing natural environment that are nevertheless very fragile. From the ancient trees which roots drape the forest floor to the walking palms to the multitude of creatures that inhabit this environment, the jungles deserve to be protected for future generations from the threatening advance of civilization with the greed for natural resources. After three days in the jungle, I feel like it would never be possible to learn all the secrets that hide in the depth of the Amazon; I left in awe of this biological environment and the incredible diversity of flora and fauna.
On the road again.
"On the road again/Like a band of gypsies we go down a highway/We are the best of friends/Insisting that the world keeps turning our way..." - Willie Nelson
Life passes by in blinks. Blink, and I am five years old playing with my toys in the living room in Chishinau. Blink, and I am thirteen or fourteen going to Natchez with my parents for my birthday. Blink, and I am nineteen packing my stuff in bags and boxes to move away to college in Oxford. Blink, and I am twenty-one on a bus in Peru on my way to the study-abroad program in Ecuador.
We boarded the bus in Cuzco around 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday night armed with pretzels and tuna fish for our three day bus ride. I read a book on my computer for a few hours because I couldn't fall asleep. I finally dozed off around midnight but kept waking up through the night because of the motion of the vehicle.
The next morning we woke up early because the driver turned on a movie on the television. I ignored the televison and instead watched the mountain scenery we passed by. We were above the clouds on a narrow, winding road that had 360 degree turns in some places. My stomach is not very strong under the best circumstances, and I began feeling motion sick very soon. We kept driving and driving with a few pit stops along the way. We were supposed to arrive in Lima at 2:00 p.m. and get on another bus later that evening. When 3:00 p.m. rolled around we were still driving along the highway, although we were parallel to the sea coast which was a positive sign. (Lima is on the coast of the Pacific Ocean). We finally arrive in Lima at 4:00 p.m., and we were hungry, tired, and upset with the bus company. I seriously contemplated staying the night in Lima and just getting a plane ticket to Quito, but I was too far along to give up. After grabbing a quick snack from KFC (the wonders of comfort food are amazing), we went to the other bus station (across the entire city) and waited to board. We got on the bus to Quito around 7:00 p.m. and settled for a 40-hour-long bus ride.
This second bus was far worse than the first one - it was much smaller and much more cramped. The bathroom situation (already poor in Latin America as most bathrooms do not have sinks or provide toilet paper) was pathetic and only got worse with the passing of time and distance. Thursday night was not too bad as I drifted in and out of sleep, but Friday was a very long day. The scenery was not spectacular - most of coastal Peru is a drab desert - and I had nothing to do because the batteries in my computer and my ipod died. The one interesting thing on this trip happened around midday - a road block in the middle of the desert with no towns around for miles and miles. We panicked a little at first because we were concerned about getting to Quito on time, but the blockade proved to be short-lived. The police arrived at the scene and dispersed the protestors with a healthy dose of tear gas; I also caught a good whiff of the stuff as the windows in the bus were open, and I can testify to how much it hurts.
We finally stopped in a costal town around 4:00 p.m. and had a quick lunch/dinner because we haven't eaten warm food since the day before. Then, we got on the bus again and were off into the mountains once more. Around 7:30 p.m. we arrived at the Ecuadorian border; after waiting for about an hour, we passed the check-point and were on the road again.
The road from Cuzco to Quito is a triangle: we went down one mountain and then went up a different mountain. We finally arrived in Quito around 10:00 a.m. Saturday morning; we never wanted to see another bus again. We took a taxi to the University where our host parents picked us up. The new stage of our adventure has begun.
Life passes by in blinks. Blink, and I am five years old playing with my toys in the living room in Chishinau. Blink, and I am thirteen or fourteen going to Natchez with my parents for my birthday. Blink, and I am nineteen packing my stuff in bags and boxes to move away to college in Oxford. Blink, and I am twenty-one on a bus in Peru on my way to the study-abroad program in Ecuador.
We boarded the bus in Cuzco around 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday night armed with pretzels and tuna fish for our three day bus ride. I read a book on my computer for a few hours because I couldn't fall asleep. I finally dozed off around midnight but kept waking up through the night because of the motion of the vehicle.
The next morning we woke up early because the driver turned on a movie on the television. I ignored the televison and instead watched the mountain scenery we passed by. We were above the clouds on a narrow, winding road that had 360 degree turns in some places. My stomach is not very strong under the best circumstances, and I began feeling motion sick very soon. We kept driving and driving with a few pit stops along the way. We were supposed to arrive in Lima at 2:00 p.m. and get on another bus later that evening. When 3:00 p.m. rolled around we were still driving along the highway, although we were parallel to the sea coast which was a positive sign. (Lima is on the coast of the Pacific Ocean). We finally arrive in Lima at 4:00 p.m., and we were hungry, tired, and upset with the bus company. I seriously contemplated staying the night in Lima and just getting a plane ticket to Quito, but I was too far along to give up. After grabbing a quick snack from KFC (the wonders of comfort food are amazing), we went to the other bus station (across the entire city) and waited to board. We got on the bus to Quito around 7:00 p.m. and settled for a 40-hour-long bus ride.
This second bus was far worse than the first one - it was much smaller and much more cramped. The bathroom situation (already poor in Latin America as most bathrooms do not have sinks or provide toilet paper) was pathetic and only got worse with the passing of time and distance. Thursday night was not too bad as I drifted in and out of sleep, but Friday was a very long day. The scenery was not spectacular - most of coastal Peru is a drab desert - and I had nothing to do because the batteries in my computer and my ipod died. The one interesting thing on this trip happened around midday - a road block in the middle of the desert with no towns around for miles and miles. We panicked a little at first because we were concerned about getting to Quito on time, but the blockade proved to be short-lived. The police arrived at the scene and dispersed the protestors with a healthy dose of tear gas; I also caught a good whiff of the stuff as the windows in the bus were open, and I can testify to how much it hurts.
We finally stopped in a costal town around 4:00 p.m. and had a quick lunch/dinner because we haven't eaten warm food since the day before. Then, we got on the bus again and were off into the mountains once more. Around 7:30 p.m. we arrived at the Ecuadorian border; after waiting for about an hour, we passed the check-point and were on the road again.
The road from Cuzco to Quito is a triangle: we went down one mountain and then went up a different mountain. We finally arrived in Quito around 10:00 a.m. Saturday morning; we never wanted to see another bus again. We took a taxi to the University where our host parents picked us up. The new stage of our adventure has begun.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
In the footsteps of Hiram Bingham
"I do not seek. I find." - Pablo Picasso
In 1911 a man stepped onto the soil of a long-forgotten miracle, hidden high in the rugged mountain peaks of the ancient Andes: Machu Picchu, the lost heart of the Incan empire. Since that day, millions of tourists have visited this site and left in awe of an ancient culture that created this wonder. While traveling through Peru, my friends and I explored a little bit of Machu Picchu, an adventure well-worth the price of almost $200.
To get to Machu Picchu, we took a three-hour train ride to the small village of Aguas Calientes at the foot of the sacred mountains that are crowned at the top by this Incan wonder of the world. Aguas Calientes is a very small place that probably has more restaurants than people per square foot. The village survives off the tourists that come to visit Machu Picchu every day of the year. Since the ancient site is endangered by the large number of visitors, the number of tourist to Machu Picchu is limited to 400 people a day.
When we arrived in Aguas Calientes, we had a quick lunch and took a bus up to Machu Picchu. The dirt road was almost vertical in some places and rose sharply in alittude. In some places, the bus had to back up and balance precariously on the ledge of the mountain to let the buses going down pass. We arrived in Machu Picchu, went through the gates crowded with throngs of tourists, and went off to explore Machu Picchu. The ruins of this ancient city are well-preserved; a person blessed with a good imagination can almost see this place brimming with life five hundred years ago. We explored the ruins for a few hours; after walking up and down some very steep stairs, my legs were shaking from exhaustion. Despite a long day traveling and exploring, I did not want to leave. I felt like I could sit and watch Machu Picchu for hours or even days. The place has amazing energy, and I hope that one day I will have the chance to return and visit this wonder of the world once more.
In 1911 a man stepped onto the soil of a long-forgotten miracle, hidden high in the rugged mountain peaks of the ancient Andes: Machu Picchu, the lost heart of the Incan empire. Since that day, millions of tourists have visited this site and left in awe of an ancient culture that created this wonder. While traveling through Peru, my friends and I explored a little bit of Machu Picchu, an adventure well-worth the price of almost $200.
To get to Machu Picchu, we took a three-hour train ride to the small village of Aguas Calientes at the foot of the sacred mountains that are crowned at the top by this Incan wonder of the world. Aguas Calientes is a very small place that probably has more restaurants than people per square foot. The village survives off the tourists that come to visit Machu Picchu every day of the year. Since the ancient site is endangered by the large number of visitors, the number of tourist to Machu Picchu is limited to 400 people a day.
When we arrived in Aguas Calientes, we had a quick lunch and took a bus up to Machu Picchu. The dirt road was almost vertical in some places and rose sharply in alittude. In some places, the bus had to back up and balance precariously on the ledge of the mountain to let the buses going down pass. We arrived in Machu Picchu, went through the gates crowded with throngs of tourists, and went off to explore Machu Picchu. The ruins of this ancient city are well-preserved; a person blessed with a good imagination can almost see this place brimming with life five hundred years ago. We explored the ruins for a few hours; after walking up and down some very steep stairs, my legs were shaking from exhaustion. Despite a long day traveling and exploring, I did not want to leave. I felt like I could sit and watch Machu Picchu for hours or even days. The place has amazing energy, and I hope that one day I will have the chance to return and visit this wonder of the world once more.
Monday, July 4, 2011
From a window of a taxi
“Illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. We must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces.” - Sigmund Freud
Last Sunday was the last day of my six-week adventure in La Paz, Bolivia. Early Sunday morning, two of my friends and I left Bolivia to continue our Latin American adventures in Quito, Ecuador. Since we had an entire week to get to Quito, we stopped in Cusco, Peru in order to visit the famous ruins of Machu Picchu.
We arrived in Cusco around 10 a.m. and, after partaking a cup of the customary coca tea, took a long nap to compensate for celebrating our last night in La Paz by staying out until the wee hours of the morning. We slept most of the day away; in the evening, we walked around the main square (which boasts amazing colonial cathedrals) and had dinner at a pizza shop.
The next day we woke up early in order to buy our entrance tickets to Machu Picchu ($40) and our bus tickets to Quito ($155 for a 3-day bus ride). After accomplishing our mission for the day, we rewarded ourselves with a tour of Cusco city. The tour was bilingual – our guide spoke in Spanish at first and then translated his lecture into English for the tourists who did not speak Castellano (another word for Spanish language). We visited the famous Koricancha in the heart of Cusco – an enormous temple to the Incan Sun God that was converted into a Christian church around the time of the Spanish conquest. Then, we explored the Sacsayhuaman archaeological complex, an Incan fortress that was built from gigantic stones weighing between 90 and 130 tons each. The site was an important ceremonial center of Cusco and is the still the scene of the Inti Raymi, the Incan sun celebration held the 24th of June. We visited several other picturesque places on the tour and headed back to the center of Cusco around 7:00 p.m. Since we had to wake up at 5:00 a.m. the next morning to catch a train to Machu Picchu, we decided to go to bed early.
The next morning, we stuffed our luggage and ourselves into a small cab, and we were off to the train station. As we drove further and further away from the center of Cusco, the impressive colonial architecture changed into broken shacks, which probably had no electricity or running water. Despite the early hour, the outskirts of the city were bustling with activity as indigenous men and women dragged heavy packages to the market. Accustomed to such vistas by a six-week stay in Bolivia, I uninterestedly scanned the graffiti-covered walls and tired people who were going to work. Suddenly, I saw a little boy helping his mother carry the goods to sell in the market; the picture of this incredible poverty hit me in the face as I realized that this kind of life is probably all that this little boy will ever have. From Switzerland to Madagascar, poverty exists in all parts of the world. However, the degree of poverty greatly varies from place to place. For example, the standards of poor in the Latin American countries are not comparable to the standards of poor in the United States or Europe. We can know the facts about the poverty level of a country; however, knowing and realizing are not the same. We can see the poverty out of the window of a warm and comfortable salon of a taxi; however, seeing and believing are not the same. Even though we can change little about the way the world works, we need to realize that many of the things we take for granted are luxuries in other places.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Lessons Learned
"To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change" - Charles Horton Coole
Today was my last day in La Paz, Bolivia. Five and a half weeks have passed since I arrived in the El Alto airport, and now I have to start on the second part of my summer adventure: four weeks in Quito, Ecuador studying Spanish. Two of my friends and I left La Paz at 8:00 a.m. and arrived in Cusco two hours later. From Cusco we plan on riding a bus to Quito, a three day journey.
Even though Cusco is a beautiful city with gorgeous colonial architecture, I already miss La Paz. I am looking forward to exploring more of Latin America and experiencing new places; however, I feel empty right now as I realize that I may not see Bolivia again for a long time. I got used to the country; in a way, Bolivia became a home in the five weeks I have been there. I met new friends, I learned the customs, and I sank into the routine of everyday life. Time flew by between school, friends, traveling, and exploring. I will miss the vibrant colors of the Bolivian markets, the bright and cloudless skies, the magical mountain views. Most of all, I will miss the people I met there and the friends I made. Things can be replaced and substituted; places are empty without human connection. However, people are all different, all one of a kind, all special in their own way. Friends cannot be replaced or substituted. All of the people I met in Bolivia will always have a special place in my heart and I hope to see them someday soon.
I also wanted to add to this post all the valuable life lessons I learned in Bolivia. They are not in any particular order, and they are all my personal experiences so don't take offense if you don't agree with something.
Life Lessons Learned:
1. There is no such things as too much hand sanitizer, and its use is appropriate at any time of the day and night in vast quantities.
2. The more muscle you have, the more the altitude sickness will suck because muscles need more oxygen than fat.
3. Keep an open mind and don't judge everything by your values.
4. In order to survive crossing the road, look both ways and run if no cars are coming. Sometimes you will have to zigzag through a line of cars, and they will try to run you over if given a chance.
5. Speaking in Spanish is a lot harder when a reporter sticks a camera in your face and starts asking questions.
6. Do NOT carry your entire wardrobe with you to Bolivia. However, do bring enough variety. I regretted not bringing more T-shirts and tank tops with me.
7. Kindle is your friend. When you get homesick and lonely, a good book in English is a miraculous cure.
8. Bring lots of Immodium. Be prepared to get food poisoning several times as our stomachs are not used to the bacteria.
9. People in La Paz drive like lunatics. Be prepared to be terrified by manic drivers at least once a day.
10. Good internet in Bolivia is hard to find. Just remember, patience is a virtue.
11. Drink a lot of water, you will get dehydrated quicker at this altutude.
12. For the trip to Tiwanaku, invest in a llama hat, llama gloves, llama sweater, llama pants, and llama socks. 3 A.M. is very cold at high altutudes.
13. There are no fans in Bolivian bathrooms so keep the window open while showering.
14. ALWAYS CARRY AROUND TOILET PAPER. Bathrooms are difficult to find, and sometimes not worth the trouble. Also, you may have to go at an inconvenient time, such as a road blockade due to the car race.
15. Try to speak in Spanish as much as possible. It's easy to fall into the English-speaking routine, especially if all your friends speak English.
16. Watch a sunrise and a sunset at least once if you can. There is a nice park near Plaza España with amazing views of the city.
17. Above all, enjoy yourself. Time in Bolivia will FLY, and you will be dissapointed by the things you didn't do.
Today was my last day in La Paz, Bolivia. Five and a half weeks have passed since I arrived in the El Alto airport, and now I have to start on the second part of my summer adventure: four weeks in Quito, Ecuador studying Spanish. Two of my friends and I left La Paz at 8:00 a.m. and arrived in Cusco two hours later. From Cusco we plan on riding a bus to Quito, a three day journey.
Even though Cusco is a beautiful city with gorgeous colonial architecture, I already miss La Paz. I am looking forward to exploring more of Latin America and experiencing new places; however, I feel empty right now as I realize that I may not see Bolivia again for a long time. I got used to the country; in a way, Bolivia became a home in the five weeks I have been there. I met new friends, I learned the customs, and I sank into the routine of everyday life. Time flew by between school, friends, traveling, and exploring. I will miss the vibrant colors of the Bolivian markets, the bright and cloudless skies, the magical mountain views. Most of all, I will miss the people I met there and the friends I made. Things can be replaced and substituted; places are empty without human connection. However, people are all different, all one of a kind, all special in their own way. Friends cannot be replaced or substituted. All of the people I met in Bolivia will always have a special place in my heart and I hope to see them someday soon.
I also wanted to add to this post all the valuable life lessons I learned in Bolivia. They are not in any particular order, and they are all my personal experiences so don't take offense if you don't agree with something.
Life Lessons Learned:
1. There is no such things as too much hand sanitizer, and its use is appropriate at any time of the day and night in vast quantities.
2. The more muscle you have, the more the altitude sickness will suck because muscles need more oxygen than fat.
3. Keep an open mind and don't judge everything by your values.
4. In order to survive crossing the road, look both ways and run if no cars are coming. Sometimes you will have to zigzag through a line of cars, and they will try to run you over if given a chance.
5. Speaking in Spanish is a lot harder when a reporter sticks a camera in your face and starts asking questions.
6. Do NOT carry your entire wardrobe with you to Bolivia. However, do bring enough variety. I regretted not bringing more T-shirts and tank tops with me.
7. Kindle is your friend. When you get homesick and lonely, a good book in English is a miraculous cure.
8. Bring lots of Immodium. Be prepared to get food poisoning several times as our stomachs are not used to the bacteria.
9. People in La Paz drive like lunatics. Be prepared to be terrified by manic drivers at least once a day.
10. Good internet in Bolivia is hard to find. Just remember, patience is a virtue.
11. Drink a lot of water, you will get dehydrated quicker at this altutude.
12. For the trip to Tiwanaku, invest in a llama hat, llama gloves, llama sweater, llama pants, and llama socks. 3 A.M. is very cold at high altutudes.
13. There are no fans in Bolivian bathrooms so keep the window open while showering.
14. ALWAYS CARRY AROUND TOILET PAPER. Bathrooms are difficult to find, and sometimes not worth the trouble. Also, you may have to go at an inconvenient time, such as a road blockade due to the car race.
15. Try to speak in Spanish as much as possible. It's easy to fall into the English-speaking routine, especially if all your friends speak English.
16. Watch a sunrise and a sunset at least once if you can. There is a nice park near Plaza España with amazing views of the city.
17. Above all, enjoy yourself. Time in Bolivia will FLY, and you will be dissapointed by the things you didn't do.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Party Time!
"Time and space are the modes by which we think and not conditions in which we live" - Albert Einstein
This past week two major events took place in Bolivia: Gran Poder and the Aymara New Year. Gran Poder is a big festival celebration to honor the protectors of El Alto that took place on Saturday, June 18th. To celebrate Gran Poder, over sixty groups of dancers perform traditional dances from El Alto way down into La Paz, a distance of almost ten miles. We went to downtown early in order to get good seats and to escape the multitudes of drunk crowds that emerge in the city by the evening. We got seats under the big red Paceña sign (a brand of Bolivian beer) and waited for the show to begin. The first groups of dancers began to come by us around nine-ish in the morning. Those groups were pretty small and generally not as good as later groups. To make them stay and perform for us, we had to clap really loud. The dance groups came with their own bands and wore really expensive and probably heavy consumes. One group, which performed the herder's dance, even had people dressed as cows. Let's just say that walking ten miles dressed as a cow is not my idea of a good time. As the day progressed and the sun graced us with its welcome presence, more and more people began to fill up the empty seats. The vendors came out and maneuvered between dance groups as they shouted their wares for sale. The most popular good was beer (surprise, surprise) but many other things were for sale, including pillows to make the plastic chairs more comfortable. Since we sat in the front row and were obviously foreign, we got interviewed by television reporters several times. Unfortunately, the reporters were not the worst of my attention-hiding woes. During one of the dances (that told the story of the archangel Michael), a demon that looked like a fluffy polar bear dragged me out into the street to dance. Fun times. After seeing three hours of dancing, drinking, and merriment, we went back home; the celebration of Gran Poder, however, continued until the next day.
On Tuesday, June 21, we went to Tiwanaku to celebrate the Ayamara New Year (which is on the day of the winter solstice in South America). We woke up at 3:00 a.m. in order to reach Tiwanaku (a sight of an important ancient indigenous temple) before sunrise. Since I was warned that Tiwanaku is much, much colder than La Paz, I wore three sweaters and two pairs of pants. When we got to the town of Tiwanaku, I also bought an alpaca hat for a dollar to keep my ears warm. We got our tickets to enter the ruins (about ten dollars for foreigners, one dollar for Bolivians) and bought some hot beverages (tea on tea) to keep warm. I also tried a piece of a cow's heart in order to attempt to be an adventurous eater. It really wasn't as disgusting as I thought it would be. We stayed in a long line to enter the ruins; finally, we passed the guards and climbed a steep hill to wait for sunrise to come. As the sky began to lighten, the temperature dropped sharply. We waited for the sun to come up over the mountain range and hit the Sun Door (a part of the ancient temple); my fingers and toes lost all feeling. When the sun finally cleared the last part of the mountain and shone through the clouds, everyone cheered loudly. The Bolivians raised their hands to greet the sun; I followed the suit. The sensation of the warmth of the sun on my frozen hands was incredible - I could feel the energy flow through me. The whole place had a sense of mystique and power - although it is quite possible I was simply really cold and sleep deprived. After the sun came up and the ritual was complete, we watched the departure of Evo Morales, the Bolivian president. He left Tiwanaku on a helicopter, disturbing the quiet dawn around the ancient ruins. As he left and the sun rose higher in the sky, I was visited by a strange thought - how does the concept of two New Years work in Bolivia? I asked a friend next to me if the Bolivians celebrated a New Year every six months because for some reason the concept did not make sense to me, the child of the Western Civilization. He answered that I must remember that Bolivia is a product of two great cultures and explained that the two New Years in Bolivia are in separate dimensions of time and space. Time runs in two different worlds, one a world of the past and one a world of the present. The concept is very interesting to me, even though the idea is hard to wrap my head around. We stayed in Tiwanaku for a few more hours and then took a bus back home to La Paz, returning to the time of the present.
This past week two major events took place in Bolivia: Gran Poder and the Aymara New Year. Gran Poder is a big festival celebration to honor the protectors of El Alto that took place on Saturday, June 18th. To celebrate Gran Poder, over sixty groups of dancers perform traditional dances from El Alto way down into La Paz, a distance of almost ten miles. We went to downtown early in order to get good seats and to escape the multitudes of drunk crowds that emerge in the city by the evening. We got seats under the big red Paceña sign (a brand of Bolivian beer) and waited for the show to begin. The first groups of dancers began to come by us around nine-ish in the morning. Those groups were pretty small and generally not as good as later groups. To make them stay and perform for us, we had to clap really loud. The dance groups came with their own bands and wore really expensive and probably heavy consumes. One group, which performed the herder's dance, even had people dressed as cows. Let's just say that walking ten miles dressed as a cow is not my idea of a good time. As the day progressed and the sun graced us with its welcome presence, more and more people began to fill up the empty seats. The vendors came out and maneuvered between dance groups as they shouted their wares for sale. The most popular good was beer (surprise, surprise) but many other things were for sale, including pillows to make the plastic chairs more comfortable. Since we sat in the front row and were obviously foreign, we got interviewed by television reporters several times. Unfortunately, the reporters were not the worst of my attention-hiding woes. During one of the dances (that told the story of the archangel Michael), a demon that looked like a fluffy polar bear dragged me out into the street to dance. Fun times. After seeing three hours of dancing, drinking, and merriment, we went back home; the celebration of Gran Poder, however, continued until the next day.
On Tuesday, June 21, we went to Tiwanaku to celebrate the Ayamara New Year (which is on the day of the winter solstice in South America). We woke up at 3:00 a.m. in order to reach Tiwanaku (a sight of an important ancient indigenous temple) before sunrise. Since I was warned that Tiwanaku is much, much colder than La Paz, I wore three sweaters and two pairs of pants. When we got to the town of Tiwanaku, I also bought an alpaca hat for a dollar to keep my ears warm. We got our tickets to enter the ruins (about ten dollars for foreigners, one dollar for Bolivians) and bought some hot beverages (tea on tea) to keep warm. I also tried a piece of a cow's heart in order to attempt to be an adventurous eater. It really wasn't as disgusting as I thought it would be. We stayed in a long line to enter the ruins; finally, we passed the guards and climbed a steep hill to wait for sunrise to come. As the sky began to lighten, the temperature dropped sharply. We waited for the sun to come up over the mountain range and hit the Sun Door (a part of the ancient temple); my fingers and toes lost all feeling. When the sun finally cleared the last part of the mountain and shone through the clouds, everyone cheered loudly. The Bolivians raised their hands to greet the sun; I followed the suit. The sensation of the warmth of the sun on my frozen hands was incredible - I could feel the energy flow through me. The whole place had a sense of mystique and power - although it is quite possible I was simply really cold and sleep deprived. After the sun came up and the ritual was complete, we watched the departure of Evo Morales, the Bolivian president. He left Tiwanaku on a helicopter, disturbing the quiet dawn around the ancient ruins. As he left and the sun rose higher in the sky, I was visited by a strange thought - how does the concept of two New Years work in Bolivia? I asked a friend next to me if the Bolivians celebrated a New Year every six months because for some reason the concept did not make sense to me, the child of the Western Civilization. He answered that I must remember that Bolivia is a product of two great cultures and explained that the two New Years in Bolivia are in separate dimensions of time and space. Time runs in two different worlds, one a world of the past and one a world of the present. The concept is very interesting to me, even though the idea is hard to wrap my head around. We stayed in Tiwanaku for a few more hours and then took a bus back home to La Paz, returning to the time of the present.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Coroico: a valley above the clouds
"Before we had airplanes and astronauts, we really thought that there was an actual place beyond the clouds, somewhere over the rainbow. There was an actual place, and we could go above the clouds and find it there" - Barbara Waters
This weekend we visited Coroico, a cozy little town just above the Amazonian basin. Coroico is the end of the infamous Death Road in Bolivia, which is basically a tiny little path through the cliffs where many people die every year. Needless to say, we took the new and safer road to Coroico, which was finished only recently. The road to Coroico from La Paz took our driver about three hours, but the scenery was unbelievable. We drove up to about 5,000 meters above sea level where we stopped and took some pictures. I could barely breathe at that altitude (the fact that I was sick earlier that day did not help at all). Then, we went down, down, down through the cloud forest (yes, we were actually in the clouds) to Coroico, which is about 2,000 meters above sea level. The weather in Coroico was much more pleasant than in La Paz, obviously. We arrived in Coroico in the late afternoon and, after checking into our hotel, went out to eat dinner. We had to walk around the main plaza for some time searching for an open restaurant because most places only open late in the evenings. Finally, we found a place to eat. After dinner we lingered in the plaza and took in the quiet atmosphere of the tropical scenery. I went to sleep early that evening to be ready for the long and dusty hike to the waterfall the next morning.
The next morning I woke up early, hoping that the ancient shower in my room would have hot water. No such luck; however, the early morning had its rewards. Because Coroico is just a little higher and just a little colder than the jungle, the clouds form below the town, and in the morning the view is spectacular. I felt like I was in paradise with palm trees, tropical flower scents, and clouds below my feet. When everybody else woke up, we went to the plaza to have breakfast and meet our Bolivian friend for the waterfall hike. We started walking down the unpaved, dusty road around 11 in the morning. Everytime a car passed by us, we got covered in dust from head to toes. All the plants on the sides of the road were grey, instead of green. After walking for a while, we found an orange tree grove with really delicious oranges; we took some with us for the road. We finally reached the waterfalls after two hours of walking the treacherous mountain trails. The water was frigid, but I got in the river anyway. We played around in the water for a few hours and then walked back to the bridge. Most of the people choose to take a taxi, but I decided to climb back up the mountain with a friend as a personal challenge. I think that if I knew how difficult it was going to be, I would have taken a taxi. Nah, probably not. The worst part was the tiny, vertical trail that rose about 1000 meters in altitude. We had to stop frequently and desperately gulp the diminishing supply of oxygen. After we got through that part of the journey (in about 45 minutes), the rest of the road was a piece of cake. We got back to Coroico and joined the rest of our friends for dinner. Needless to say, we were starving after the intense workout we put our bodies through. After dinner we went back to the hotel because we were all exhausted and needed a good night's sleep. The next morning we bid a sad farewell to Coroico and headed back up to the cold and polluted La Paz.
This weekend we visited Coroico, a cozy little town just above the Amazonian basin. Coroico is the end of the infamous Death Road in Bolivia, which is basically a tiny little path through the cliffs where many people die every year. Needless to say, we took the new and safer road to Coroico, which was finished only recently. The road to Coroico from La Paz took our driver about three hours, but the scenery was unbelievable. We drove up to about 5,000 meters above sea level where we stopped and took some pictures. I could barely breathe at that altitude (the fact that I was sick earlier that day did not help at all). Then, we went down, down, down through the cloud forest (yes, we were actually in the clouds) to Coroico, which is about 2,000 meters above sea level. The weather in Coroico was much more pleasant than in La Paz, obviously. We arrived in Coroico in the late afternoon and, after checking into our hotel, went out to eat dinner. We had to walk around the main plaza for some time searching for an open restaurant because most places only open late in the evenings. Finally, we found a place to eat. After dinner we lingered in the plaza and took in the quiet atmosphere of the tropical scenery. I went to sleep early that evening to be ready for the long and dusty hike to the waterfall the next morning.
The next morning I woke up early, hoping that the ancient shower in my room would have hot water. No such luck; however, the early morning had its rewards. Because Coroico is just a little higher and just a little colder than the jungle, the clouds form below the town, and in the morning the view is spectacular. I felt like I was in paradise with palm trees, tropical flower scents, and clouds below my feet. When everybody else woke up, we went to the plaza to have breakfast and meet our Bolivian friend for the waterfall hike. We started walking down the unpaved, dusty road around 11 in the morning. Everytime a car passed by us, we got covered in dust from head to toes. All the plants on the sides of the road were grey, instead of green. After walking for a while, we found an orange tree grove with really delicious oranges; we took some with us for the road. We finally reached the waterfalls after two hours of walking the treacherous mountain trails. The water was frigid, but I got in the river anyway. We played around in the water for a few hours and then walked back to the bridge. Most of the people choose to take a taxi, but I decided to climb back up the mountain with a friend as a personal challenge. I think that if I knew how difficult it was going to be, I would have taken a taxi. Nah, probably not. The worst part was the tiny, vertical trail that rose about 1000 meters in altitude. We had to stop frequently and desperately gulp the diminishing supply of oxygen. After we got through that part of the journey (in about 45 minutes), the rest of the road was a piece of cake. We got back to Coroico and joined the rest of our friends for dinner. Needless to say, we were starving after the intense workout we put our bodies through. After dinner we went back to the hotel because we were all exhausted and needed a good night's sleep. The next morning we bid a sad farewell to Coroico and headed back up to the cold and polluted La Paz.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
In the name of research!
"I may not be there yet, but I am closer than I was yesterday." - Author Unknown
This past week I have started doing a lot of research about my project topic of Mercosur and the Bolivian integration into the Latin American market. On Tuesday afternoon I visited the Library of Congress and looked through the old editions of Bolivian newspapers to get an idea about the political implications of Mercosur. The majority of newspaper articles were about the war in Iraq and the collapse of the Soviet Union. On Wednesday morning, instead of our regular class, we went up to El Alto to visit the factory that manufactures traditional and modern medicine. The factory is pretty small but manufactures many medicines for Bolivia. A fact that surprised me was that the factory is owned by one family, instead of being a corporation of shareholders. That afternoon I went to the Ministry of Economics and Finance to look for more information. Apparently, the library for the ministry is nowhere near the actual ministry; I had to walk around for two hours and ask multiple police officers to find it. Eventually, a random guy on the street asked me what I was looking for and pointed me in the right direction. On Thursday we went back up to El Alto again to visit the Radio "Pachamama." A group of bloggers told us about the challenges of blogging in Aymara, an indigenous language. We also participated in the radio shows as the visiting speakers. Speaking in Spanish is a lot more difficult on the radio. I think I forgot how to conjugate most of the verb tenses. On Friday we were finally done with classes for the week; we went to Coroico on a weekend trip.
This past week I have started doing a lot of research about my project topic of Mercosur and the Bolivian integration into the Latin American market. On Tuesday afternoon I visited the Library of Congress and looked through the old editions of Bolivian newspapers to get an idea about the political implications of Mercosur. The majority of newspaper articles were about the war in Iraq and the collapse of the Soviet Union. On Wednesday morning, instead of our regular class, we went up to El Alto to visit the factory that manufactures traditional and modern medicine. The factory is pretty small but manufactures many medicines for Bolivia. A fact that surprised me was that the factory is owned by one family, instead of being a corporation of shareholders. That afternoon I went to the Ministry of Economics and Finance to look for more information. Apparently, the library for the ministry is nowhere near the actual ministry; I had to walk around for two hours and ask multiple police officers to find it. Eventually, a random guy on the street asked me what I was looking for and pointed me in the right direction. On Thursday we went back up to El Alto again to visit the Radio "Pachamama." A group of bloggers told us about the challenges of blogging in Aymara, an indigenous language. We also participated in the radio shows as the visiting speakers. Speaking in Spanish is a lot more difficult on the radio. I think I forgot how to conjugate most of the verb tenses. On Friday we were finally done with classes for the week; we went to Coroico on a weekend trip.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sucre: The white city
“Black and white are absolute...expressing the most delicate vibration, the most profound tranquility, and unlimited profundity.” - Shiko Munakata
The drive down to Sucre was much more eventful than the drive to Potosi because of a car race that blocked the road for more than two hours. We were going along, doing sixty kilometers per hour on a really curvy mountain road, when suddenly we saw a long line of cars up ahead. At first, we thought that somebody had wrecked, but our driver told us that the road was closed because of a car race. The owners and the passengers of the cars and buses have vacated their vehicles to climb the hill and watch the race. The scene reminded me the movie "The Day After Tommorow" because of all the rows of empty cars. We followed the suit, and climbed up a hill. We didn't see anything for a while, and we thought it was over because some cars started driving up from the other side of the barricade, creating a very interesting situation with a line of cars facing-off. However, we learned a little later that those people just got tired of waiting and jumped the barricade. I wonder about people sometimes. Then, the race cars started coming. I am not a big racing fan, but I have to admit that seeing cars race by at crazy speeds was exiting. We finally got to Sucre around six and had the evening to ourselves to go out and have fun. The next morning, we walked around Sucre and learned a little about the city's rich history. Sucre was the base of independence fighters in 1809 and the place of the constitutional assembly in 1825. Therefore, the city was the capital of Bolivia until the civil war in the 1900s. There is a law in Sucre that all the buildings around the main square have to be white - that is why I titled this entry "the white city." Most of the museums in Sucre were closed because of the car race, which lasted two days, so we had some down-time to catch up on homework and sleep. Later that day, I went to the soccer game, which the team from La Paz lost horribly. However, the event was really fun. We stayed in Sucre for another night and returned to La Paz the next morning, together with the disgraced soccer team.
The drive down to Sucre was much more eventful than the drive to Potosi because of a car race that blocked the road for more than two hours. We were going along, doing sixty kilometers per hour on a really curvy mountain road, when suddenly we saw a long line of cars up ahead. At first, we thought that somebody had wrecked, but our driver told us that the road was closed because of a car race. The owners and the passengers of the cars and buses have vacated their vehicles to climb the hill and watch the race. The scene reminded me the movie "The Day After Tommorow" because of all the rows of empty cars. We followed the suit, and climbed up a hill. We didn't see anything for a while, and we thought it was over because some cars started driving up from the other side of the barricade, creating a very interesting situation with a line of cars facing-off. However, we learned a little later that those people just got tired of waiting and jumped the barricade. I wonder about people sometimes. Then, the race cars started coming. I am not a big racing fan, but I have to admit that seeing cars race by at crazy speeds was exiting. We finally got to Sucre around six and had the evening to ourselves to go out and have fun. The next morning, we walked around Sucre and learned a little about the city's rich history. Sucre was the base of independence fighters in 1809 and the place of the constitutional assembly in 1825. Therefore, the city was the capital of Bolivia until the civil war in the 1900s. There is a law in Sucre that all the buildings around the main square have to be white - that is why I titled this entry "the white city." Most of the museums in Sucre were closed because of the car race, which lasted two days, so we had some down-time to catch up on homework and sleep. Later that day, I went to the soccer game, which the team from La Paz lost horribly. However, the event was really fun. We stayed in Sucre for another night and returned to La Paz the next morning, together with the disgraced soccer team.
Friday, June 3, 2011
A mountain of suffering
“A mask of gold hides all deformities” - Thomas Dekker
Last weekend we traveled to Sucre, the other capital of Bolivia, and Potosi, the mountain that provided silver and tin for over five hundred years. We flew from our homebase in La Paz to Sucre on Thursday morning and hired two taxis to take us to Potosi that afternoon. The takeoff in the airport in El Alto was a little frightening because the airplane had to reach higher speeds in order to take off at four thousand meters above sea level. However, the flight allowed me to see more of the rugged Andean terrain and allowed me to appreciate the difficulty that communication and travel presented up until the post-modern times. We arrived in Sucre around noon, had a quick lunch, and headed up to Potosi. The trip took about two and a half hours and involved a winding mountain road that sometimes had 360 degree curves. Most people in the taxi fell asleep on the drive; however, I stayed awake to watch the impressive mountain vista and the small villages we passed where people eked a meager existence in the harsh climate and terrain. We arrived in Potosi in time to take a tour of Casa de Moneda, a Spanish colonial money factory where the silver from the mountain of Potosi was transformed into coins. The place was a fortress that boasted almost two hundred rooms, which were used for melting silver, molding coins, and storing the treasure. The museum had an impressive collection of ancient artifacts as well as various minerals from the mountain. The most memorable artifact in the museum was the collection of machines for thinning silver. The machines took up four rooms and looked like a device used by the Inquisition to torture innocent people. In some places in those rooms footprints of the workers were imprinted into the wood. I left the museum awe-stricken by the enormous wealth and power that Potosi once represented. In the courtyard, the face of a clown (the symbol of Potosi) smirked at the backs of the leaving tourists. There is a story behind a clown as well - supposedly, he was carved by a French architect that chose the clown to mock the Spaniards and their greedy ambitions in the New World. After the tour we had dinner and took a walk around the city. The cathedrals and the colonial architecture loomed over us in a dark shadow of the city’s past, present, and future. And, of course, everywhere in Potosi, the mountain of riches watches and wonders at the greed of the human race. Because of the five hundred years of non-stop mining, the top of the mountain has fallen in and the working conditions in the tunnels are becoming more and more dangerous for the miners. We did not do a mining tour, despite the numerous advertisements throughout the city, but we went closer to the mountain to visit the miner’s market on Saturday morning. We saw little shops with tools for the miners, and we saw several trucks taking the men for the morning shift up the mountain. Some of those men will never come back from the tunnels of Potosi. And those who do come back, will only have a life expectancy of about thirty years because the air in the mines slowly sucks out the life of a person, hour by hour. After visiting the market, we walked down back to the main plaza and decided to take a tour of the Spanish convent, probably one of the richest places in the city. The convent was established in the 1700s and is still a functioning establishment. Here, the Spanish sent off their young daughters with a huge dowry to become nuns and to never see the light of the world again. The girls who arrived here were never allowed to see anyone, nor to own any personal belonging. Most of the rooms have now been converted into a museum - to store religious paintings, ancient books, and other relics of the past, such as self-mutilating tools. Many of the walls in the hallways were covered by golden-framed mirrors; looking into one, I could imagine a scared seventeen-year-old girl walking the same hallway three hundred years ago and knowing that her future is bleak and hopeless. Even the bodies of the dead nuns were not allowed to leave the convent - they were buried there and some skeletons still lie in open graves in the floor. Needless to say, I was very happy to leave that place. It was fascinating, but in a very morbid sort of way. The last sight we visited in Potosi was the cathedral on the plaza. The catherdral was in the middle of renovations but amazing nevertheless. The church was gigantic - I can’t even imagine how difficult it was to build at 4100 meters above sea level. However, one of the columns did have a pyramid with an eye - the symbol of the Masons. I guess nothing is impossible for them. We got to climb fifteen or so flights of stairs to see a bird-view of the city of Potosi from the bell tower of the church. After the visit to the cathedral, we headed back to Sucre. Potosi was a great visit to see the colonial legacy first-hand and to appreciate the bloody price that wealth sometimes costs.
Last weekend we traveled to Sucre, the other capital of Bolivia, and Potosi, the mountain that provided silver and tin for over five hundred years. We flew from our homebase in La Paz to Sucre on Thursday morning and hired two taxis to take us to Potosi that afternoon. The takeoff in the airport in El Alto was a little frightening because the airplane had to reach higher speeds in order to take off at four thousand meters above sea level. However, the flight allowed me to see more of the rugged Andean terrain and allowed me to appreciate the difficulty that communication and travel presented up until the post-modern times. We arrived in Sucre around noon, had a quick lunch, and headed up to Potosi. The trip took about two and a half hours and involved a winding mountain road that sometimes had 360 degree curves. Most people in the taxi fell asleep on the drive; however, I stayed awake to watch the impressive mountain vista and the small villages we passed where people eked a meager existence in the harsh climate and terrain. We arrived in Potosi in time to take a tour of Casa de Moneda, a Spanish colonial money factory where the silver from the mountain of Potosi was transformed into coins. The place was a fortress that boasted almost two hundred rooms, which were used for melting silver, molding coins, and storing the treasure. The museum had an impressive collection of ancient artifacts as well as various minerals from the mountain. The most memorable artifact in the museum was the collection of machines for thinning silver. The machines took up four rooms and looked like a device used by the Inquisition to torture innocent people. In some places in those rooms footprints of the workers were imprinted into the wood. I left the museum awe-stricken by the enormous wealth and power that Potosi once represented. In the courtyard, the face of a clown (the symbol of Potosi) smirked at the backs of the leaving tourists. There is a story behind a clown as well - supposedly, he was carved by a French architect that chose the clown to mock the Spaniards and their greedy ambitions in the New World. After the tour we had dinner and took a walk around the city. The cathedrals and the colonial architecture loomed over us in a dark shadow of the city’s past, present, and future. And, of course, everywhere in Potosi, the mountain of riches watches and wonders at the greed of the human race. Because of the five hundred years of non-stop mining, the top of the mountain has fallen in and the working conditions in the tunnels are becoming more and more dangerous for the miners. We did not do a mining tour, despite the numerous advertisements throughout the city, but we went closer to the mountain to visit the miner’s market on Saturday morning. We saw little shops with tools for the miners, and we saw several trucks taking the men for the morning shift up the mountain. Some of those men will never come back from the tunnels of Potosi. And those who do come back, will only have a life expectancy of about thirty years because the air in the mines slowly sucks out the life of a person, hour by hour. After visiting the market, we walked down back to the main plaza and decided to take a tour of the Spanish convent, probably one of the richest places in the city. The convent was established in the 1700s and is still a functioning establishment. Here, the Spanish sent off their young daughters with a huge dowry to become nuns and to never see the light of the world again. The girls who arrived here were never allowed to see anyone, nor to own any personal belonging. Most of the rooms have now been converted into a museum - to store religious paintings, ancient books, and other relics of the past, such as self-mutilating tools. Many of the walls in the hallways were covered by golden-framed mirrors; looking into one, I could imagine a scared seventeen-year-old girl walking the same hallway three hundred years ago and knowing that her future is bleak and hopeless. Even the bodies of the dead nuns were not allowed to leave the convent - they were buried there and some skeletons still lie in open graves in the floor. Needless to say, I was very happy to leave that place. It was fascinating, but in a very morbid sort of way. The last sight we visited in Potosi was the cathedral on the plaza. The catherdral was in the middle of renovations but amazing nevertheless. The church was gigantic - I can’t even imagine how difficult it was to build at 4100 meters above sea level. However, one of the columns did have a pyramid with an eye - the symbol of the Masons. I guess nothing is impossible for them. We got to climb fifteen or so flights of stairs to see a bird-view of the city of Potosi from the bell tower of the church. After the visit to the cathedral, we headed back to Sucre. Potosi was a great visit to see the colonial legacy first-hand and to appreciate the bloody price that wealth sometimes costs.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A Day in the United States
“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far” - Theodore Roosovelt
On Monday afternoon we visited the U.S. embassy (the fortress I mentioned earlier). We gave up our passports to the guard at the desk in exchange for a visitor’s pass and went through a rigorous screening process to gain access to the grounds. The guard checked our bags and asked me to drink some of my water to make sure there wasn’t poison in the bottle. After passing the checkpoint, we stepped on the U.S. soil once more (on the embassy grounds all the laws of the represented country apply). We were ushered into a conference room and given lectures by the heads of the four departments: culture, politics, U.S. aid, and drug control. The lectures took about two and a half hours, but the subjects discussed were very interesting. We talked about the history of the U.S. intervention in the Western Hemisphere and how that history affects current political relationships between the U.S. and other countries. The head of U.S. aid talked about the projects that are funded by the U.S. donations. The head of the drug control department discussed the challenges of her job in a country that historically grows the coca plant. An interesting fact I learned: U.S. does not have a current ambassador in Bolivia because he was expelled by Evo Morales, the president of Bolivia. After our visit to the embassy, we went home to study for a test this week.
On Monday afternoon we visited the U.S. embassy (the fortress I mentioned earlier). We gave up our passports to the guard at the desk in exchange for a visitor’s pass and went through a rigorous screening process to gain access to the grounds. The guard checked our bags and asked me to drink some of my water to make sure there wasn’t poison in the bottle. After passing the checkpoint, we stepped on the U.S. soil once more (on the embassy grounds all the laws of the represented country apply). We were ushered into a conference room and given lectures by the heads of the four departments: culture, politics, U.S. aid, and drug control. The lectures took about two and a half hours, but the subjects discussed were very interesting. We talked about the history of the U.S. intervention in the Western Hemisphere and how that history affects current political relationships between the U.S. and other countries. The head of U.S. aid talked about the projects that are funded by the U.S. donations. The head of the drug control department discussed the challenges of her job in a country that historically grows the coca plant. An interesting fact I learned: U.S. does not have a current ambassador in Bolivia because he was expelled by Evo Morales, the president of Bolivia. After our visit to the embassy, we went home to study for a test this week.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Venturing out little by little.
"When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap" - Cynthia Heimel
In the past few days, we began to explore La Paz and timidly venturing out on our own a little bit. On Friday we had our official orientation to the program during lunch at an old tavern with very fascinating architecture. We covered our syllabus and some basic safety rules; then, we discussed the ideas for the projects we are supposed to write. After lunch some of the girls and I went to the Coca Museum. The museum was dedicated to the history of the coca leaf and its miraculous properties. A part that really struck me was the "prophesy of the coca leaf" - it said in really graphic and violent terms that the leaf is medicine to the indigenous people but destructive poison to the white conquerors. While its not exactly the truth (cocaine is an issue in many countries), the drug problem in the United States is a lot more problematic than in Bolivia where people consume coca leaf in food and drink daily. Something I learned later is that there are two types of coca leaf: one grown for consumption and one grown specifically for cocaine production. The one grown for cocaine production strips the soil of the nutrients and destroys the chance of growing anything else on that land. After the tour of the museum, we wandered around the market and discussed cultural aspects of Bolivian society. The vendors sold things ranging from mummified llama fetuses (buried under the foundation of a house for good luck) to magical potions for anything under the sun to statues for protection and wisdom. My favorite souvenir was Ekeko - the Andean god of good luck. Ekeko looks like a jolly, fat Santa Clause, loaded down with miniature houses, cars, money, university diplomas, etc. A special priest has to bless the Ekeko at the beginning of the new year, and Ekeko, if treated well, will grant his holder all his desires within a year. Ekeko has to be put in the most prominent place in a person's house and given a smoke every Friday. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of one, but it's a very cool statue. After exploring the market, we walked home. It was a long walk but very picturesque. We saw more of the architecture and more of the Bolivian street life. When we finally arrived at our hotel, we were all tired and saturated with the smell of gas fumes. The rest of the day passed pretty quietly, with a slow stroll around the neighboring park and a quick run to the supermarket. On Saturday morning we went to the university where we are going to be taking clases. The ride there takes about 15-20 minutes and makes possible to see the mountain chain that completely surrounds La Paz. This place is a strange choice for a city at the first glance - it's cold, dry, and inhospitable. However, the mountains offer wonderful protection against enemy invasion and the location is halfway between two major centers of power. We stopped our bus on the corner and walked up a steep hill to the university. Even though it was Saturday morning, classes were in session and the campus was swarming with students. After a short tour of campus, we took another bus to Zona Sur, a richer part of La Paz. We had ice-cream in an Italian gelado shop and walked around looking at the array of goods offered at the stands that lined the streets. Afterwards, Clair, Emily, and I took a minibus back to our hotel on our own for the first time. Since it was rush hour, we ended up in a packed bus which was very hot and uncomfortable. Several hours later we went out to see the Night of the Open Museums, which is the day when all museums have free admission and are open past midnight. We visited the art museum, which offered a small taste of colonial art in Bolivia and the folk art museum, which had a Bolivian band playing traditional music. The music was a mix of Spanish and Aymara (one of the indigenous languages in La Paz), and many people were dancing in the courtyard to the rhythmic beat. (Many of the museums in La Paz are located in the old colonial mansions, which usually had a courtyard for the horses and carriages). On the way back we saw a street performance of the sayo music, which has roots in the African musical tradition. The performers wore colorful masks and played the drums very skillfully. We got back to the hotel way past midnight, and I fell asleep almost immediately. Sunday was a slow day to sleep in and catch up on the homework. I finished my readings by the early afternoon and went to the grocery store with some other girls. Then, I went out to do a little exploring on my own. I walked down the street past the U.S. embassy (the most ridiculous one in the city, it looks like a fortress) and past the presidential palace. Apparently, people can't go past directly in front of the palace because the guards made me cross the road. I walked down to the bridge and saw some breathtaking vistas of the mountains and walked back up to downtown. I returned to the hotel around six, and we went to have Sunday dinner with our professors. After dinner I read a little and went to sleep to get ready for the first day of classes.
In the past few days, we began to explore La Paz and timidly venturing out on our own a little bit. On Friday we had our official orientation to the program during lunch at an old tavern with very fascinating architecture. We covered our syllabus and some basic safety rules; then, we discussed the ideas for the projects we are supposed to write. After lunch some of the girls and I went to the Coca Museum. The museum was dedicated to the history of the coca leaf and its miraculous properties. A part that really struck me was the "prophesy of the coca leaf" - it said in really graphic and violent terms that the leaf is medicine to the indigenous people but destructive poison to the white conquerors. While its not exactly the truth (cocaine is an issue in many countries), the drug problem in the United States is a lot more problematic than in Bolivia where people consume coca leaf in food and drink daily. Something I learned later is that there are two types of coca leaf: one grown for consumption and one grown specifically for cocaine production. The one grown for cocaine production strips the soil of the nutrients and destroys the chance of growing anything else on that land. After the tour of the museum, we wandered around the market and discussed cultural aspects of Bolivian society. The vendors sold things ranging from mummified llama fetuses (buried under the foundation of a house for good luck) to magical potions for anything under the sun to statues for protection and wisdom. My favorite souvenir was Ekeko - the Andean god of good luck. Ekeko looks like a jolly, fat Santa Clause, loaded down with miniature houses, cars, money, university diplomas, etc. A special priest has to bless the Ekeko at the beginning of the new year, and Ekeko, if treated well, will grant his holder all his desires within a year. Ekeko has to be put in the most prominent place in a person's house and given a smoke every Friday. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of one, but it's a very cool statue. After exploring the market, we walked home. It was a long walk but very picturesque. We saw more of the architecture and more of the Bolivian street life. When we finally arrived at our hotel, we were all tired and saturated with the smell of gas fumes. The rest of the day passed pretty quietly, with a slow stroll around the neighboring park and a quick run to the supermarket. On Saturday morning we went to the university where we are going to be taking clases. The ride there takes about 15-20 minutes and makes possible to see the mountain chain that completely surrounds La Paz. This place is a strange choice for a city at the first glance - it's cold, dry, and inhospitable. However, the mountains offer wonderful protection against enemy invasion and the location is halfway between two major centers of power. We stopped our bus on the corner and walked up a steep hill to the university. Even though it was Saturday morning, classes were in session and the campus was swarming with students. After a short tour of campus, we took another bus to Zona Sur, a richer part of La Paz. We had ice-cream in an Italian gelado shop and walked around looking at the array of goods offered at the stands that lined the streets. Afterwards, Clair, Emily, and I took a minibus back to our hotel on our own for the first time. Since it was rush hour, we ended up in a packed bus which was very hot and uncomfortable. Several hours later we went out to see the Night of the Open Museums, which is the day when all museums have free admission and are open past midnight. We visited the art museum, which offered a small taste of colonial art in Bolivia and the folk art museum, which had a Bolivian band playing traditional music. The music was a mix of Spanish and Aymara (one of the indigenous languages in La Paz), and many people were dancing in the courtyard to the rhythmic beat. (Many of the museums in La Paz are located in the old colonial mansions, which usually had a courtyard for the horses and carriages). On the way back we saw a street performance of the sayo music, which has roots in the African musical tradition. The performers wore colorful masks and played the drums very skillfully. We got back to the hotel way past midnight, and I fell asleep almost immediately. Sunday was a slow day to sleep in and catch up on the homework. I finished my readings by the early afternoon and went to the grocery store with some other girls. Then, I went out to do a little exploring on my own. I walked down the street past the U.S. embassy (the most ridiculous one in the city, it looks like a fortress) and past the presidential palace. Apparently, people can't go past directly in front of the palace because the guards made me cross the road. I walked down to the bridge and saw some breathtaking vistas of the mountains and walked back up to downtown. I returned to the hotel around six, and we went to have Sunday dinner with our professors. After dinner I read a little and went to sleep to get ready for the first day of classes.
Friday, May 20, 2011
First Impressions
"Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict” - William Channing
Apparently, altitude and I are not agreable. I felt fine in the morning when I fell asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, I had a huge headache. I tried to walk to lunch with everybody else; this turned out to be a poor choice. I have never passed out in my life, but with every step darkness threatened to overwhelm me. I tried to order some water and fruity flavored ice-cream as a light lunch, but I couldn’t keep that down for long. We came back and I went straight to sleep. I couldn’t keep anything down, ever water, until later in the evening. Eventually, I managed to drink some water and some chamomile tea and fall alseep. When I woke up in the morning, I wondered how did my sickness magically dissapear overnight. I was weak and shaky from not eating for twenty-four hours, but I wanted to run and shout with the joy of feeling good. After some light breakfast and a shower (which doesn’t have a fan and, therefore, turns into a swamp each time someone showers), we went out to change some money and buy some groceries. One dollar equals about seven bolivianos, so we all walked out of the money-exchange house with a giant wad of cash. However, it was hard to find a place to use it because we got the large bills of 200 bolivianos, and people in Bolivia, for some unknown to God reason, hoard small bills and change. You can only get change in the large grocery stores and restaurants. Everywhere else demands small monetary denominations. After exchanging our money, we went to the grocery store. I bought a huge papaya, water (no matter how much you drink in Bolivia, you are constantly dehydrated), and some other snacks for a total of 30 bolivianos or about 4-5 bucks. Apparently, if you don’t buy pre-packaged fruit in Bolivia you have to get it weighed in the back so I held up the line while the lady working the register tried to figure out what to do with the dumb gringo. Eventually, she sent some other people to get my fruit weighted and stickered. All is well that works out well. Afterwards, we went to have lunch at a ice-cream/sandwich shop in the Prado (downtown). I ate a plate of grilled beef and veggies that kinda reminded me of the fajita plates in the Mexican restaurants. We walked a little around the Prado, saw the presidential and the vice-presidential palaces, learned a little about Bolivian history, and took an old school bus back home. On the way home, we passed about five or six monuments dedicated to the Pacific War and the Chaco War. Yes, they are both a very big deal in Bolivia. So is the access to the sea, which Bolivia lost more than a century ago to Chile but still wants back. They have a navy till this day. Near our hotel, there are a Bolivian Naval Ministry and an Argentinian Ministry for the support of the Bolivian right to the sea. After lunch and a short break at the hotel, Dr. Centellas took us to the market to buy our cell phones. We bought the cheapest version with 30 credits on it for about 30 bucks. Not bad for a day’s work. Then, we went back to the hotel once more and passed out in our warm and comfy beds. Several other girls and I went up to have dinner and enjoy intellectual disscussion with our professors. We went back down to our rooms around ten, and I promptly fell asleep, exhausted after a long day.
And so it begins...
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did so. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover” - Mark Twain
In the past twenty-four hours, I have traveled over 4,500 miles. I went from Jackson to Dallas to Miami and finally landed in La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. The idea for this trip began several months ago when I heard of this fascinating research program in Bolivia that dealt with various methods of doing research. I applied and, after some intense packing and preparing with the help of my parents, here am I. This is the first time I am going to be away from home in a foreign country on my own, so I am exited but also a little nervous. Overall the trip to La Paz went well; I had a long layover in Dallas where I saw a bird trapped inside the airport. I chased it to take a picture because I was really bored. Then, I met some of my friends who were also participating in the program, and we flew to Miami together. The different landscapes really captured my attention: in Mississippi and Texas, there are mostly squares of yellow fields and green forests that are visible from the airplane window. However, Florida has a completely different landscape with lots of lakes and swamps. The perspective of the world changes completely from the airplane window. Miami was beautiful with clear blue waters of the ocean and bright sandy beaches beackoning to the tired travelers to come and visit. The layover in Miami was only two hours, so I hurriedly wolfed down a chicken sandwich from Wendy’s and then boarded the long flight to La Paz. We boarded at 9:30 p.m., but we did not leave until almost 11 p.m. because there was an extra person on the flight, and the flight attendants had to figure out what to do with him. When we finally got in the air, I bid goodbye to the sea of lights in Miami and settled for a nap. It was a very uncomfortable six-hour nap because sleeping in the airplanes is uncomfortable in general, and this one was also packed like a can of sardines. Around 5ish Bolivian time, we finally arrived in La Paz. If the biggest U.S. cities always appear as a never-ending sea of light, La Paz was only a tiny isle of civilization among the dark summits of the forests, with glimmering stretches of rivers, and the glowing tops of the mountain peaks, covered with a white blanket of snow. The mountains were absolutely beautiful - from a window of an airplane they first appeared as clouds glittering in the moonlight. We landed in La Paz (actually El Alto which is kinda like a suburb of La Paz), and we went through the customs without any problems. They didn’t really seem to care as long as we paid the visa fee. Dr. Centellas met us in the airport and we took two taxis (we had a lot of bags) to our hotel. We saw a little bit of El Alto and La Paz as our driver madly dashed in between lanes and ran traffic lights. We arrived at our hotel at about 5:30ish, had some coca tea (a very common drink in Bolivia), and went to bed in order to be up and ready for adventure in a few hours.
In the past twenty-four hours, I have traveled over 4,500 miles. I went from Jackson to Dallas to Miami and finally landed in La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. The idea for this trip began several months ago when I heard of this fascinating research program in Bolivia that dealt with various methods of doing research. I applied and, after some intense packing and preparing with the help of my parents, here am I. This is the first time I am going to be away from home in a foreign country on my own, so I am exited but also a little nervous. Overall the trip to La Paz went well; I had a long layover in Dallas where I saw a bird trapped inside the airport. I chased it to take a picture because I was really bored. Then, I met some of my friends who were also participating in the program, and we flew to Miami together. The different landscapes really captured my attention: in Mississippi and Texas, there are mostly squares of yellow fields and green forests that are visible from the airplane window. However, Florida has a completely different landscape with lots of lakes and swamps. The perspective of the world changes completely from the airplane window. Miami was beautiful with clear blue waters of the ocean and bright sandy beaches beackoning to the tired travelers to come and visit. The layover in Miami was only two hours, so I hurriedly wolfed down a chicken sandwich from Wendy’s and then boarded the long flight to La Paz. We boarded at 9:30 p.m., but we did not leave until almost 11 p.m. because there was an extra person on the flight, and the flight attendants had to figure out what to do with him. When we finally got in the air, I bid goodbye to the sea of lights in Miami and settled for a nap. It was a very uncomfortable six-hour nap because sleeping in the airplanes is uncomfortable in general, and this one was also packed like a can of sardines. Around 5ish Bolivian time, we finally arrived in La Paz. If the biggest U.S. cities always appear as a never-ending sea of light, La Paz was only a tiny isle of civilization among the dark summits of the forests, with glimmering stretches of rivers, and the glowing tops of the mountain peaks, covered with a white blanket of snow. The mountains were absolutely beautiful - from a window of an airplane they first appeared as clouds glittering in the moonlight. We landed in La Paz (actually El Alto which is kinda like a suburb of La Paz), and we went through the customs without any problems. They didn’t really seem to care as long as we paid the visa fee. Dr. Centellas met us in the airport and we took two taxis (we had a lot of bags) to our hotel. We saw a little bit of El Alto and La Paz as our driver madly dashed in between lanes and ran traffic lights. We arrived at our hotel at about 5:30ish, had some coca tea (a very common drink in Bolivia), and went to bed in order to be up and ready for adventure in a few hours.
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