Alright so I finished my first week of volunteer stuff and the Children's Cultural Center and the local Orphanage. Man am I exhausted. Kids have aloooot of energy, who knew?
In the Cultural Center I have been helping with the gym class. But on Wednesday and Thursday the teacher didn't come and I had to control the class myself. Now, a big group of 9 year olds is hard enough to control, but then you add in the language barrier... and well, its hell. I spend most of the class lifting the kids up, and flipping them around the gymnastics high bar, which is a work out for me as well. Especially when the kid is a bit on the chunky side! The second gym class is for older kids, and there really isn't anything for me to do in that class. Most of the older boys can handle the rings or high bar better than I ever will.
I also started working in the orphanage my grandmother was raised in. She came with me my first day. We were waiting in the foyer for the director and then started hearing screaming. The front doors opened and three grown women were having to drag a young girl into the place. She was bleeding profusously from the mouth and nose and screaming the whole time. She was saying she didn't want to go anywhere and was crying that she had no mom or dad. All the while I was standing a few feet from her having no idea what to do. The women managed to pick her up and drag her inside. So it was pretty nervous to begin with and this certainly didn't help. My grandmother said the place had changed alot, she told me horror stories about it when she was there.
The girls there seemed curious about me and engaged me in conversation whenever I was around. When homework time started, I had a chance to take a look at the math they were doing and realized I don't remember any of that stuff! Algebra was yeeeaaars ago for me. Damnit. But then I found a girl working on her English homework and I sat and helped her out. Whew. Some of the girls then took me to a folklore music festival in which they were performing in their local school. It was a competition of sorts between the different grade levels, and each grade had a musical and dance performance. It was usually about 20 or so students playing the zampoña (pan flute), and one or two on the guitar and drums. There was also a traditional costume competition. I wish I had brought my camera. It was a cool experience... I want to learn to play the zampoña now.
Whining moment: so I brought the 3rd through 5th seasons of 24 on DVD with me, and I've just finished watching all of them :( I looked forward to watching the adventures of Jack Bauer every night before I went to bed, and now its all over.... OVER! So if you know of another addicting show I can get on DVD let me know (no I've seen Heroes so don't suggest it!)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I started on of my volunteer jobs yesterday. I’m helping out the Children’s Cultural Center. I’m working with the kid’s gym class. The first class is for the young kids, around 9 years old… and oh maaan, they have a lot of energy. Trying to get them form a line and stop wrestling with eachother is a workout in its self. The gym itself is matted and full of gymnastics equipment (rings, double bars, etc.). I did the whole routine with the kids and man it felt like bootcamp. And then came the teenager’s class… now that was work. I was doing so many flips, twists and turns… and some of the boys in the class easily showed me up. Today I woke up (at 12pm mind you) with my whole body aching. I suppose it didn’t help that I hit the gym after class too. Anyways, it was fun, and tomorrow I’m going to be teaching the class myself. The gym teacher has broken her foot and needs to stay home. In about a month they’ll be getting weight equipment, and I’m excited about teaching that class. I know my way around a weight room!
I hit up La Paz this weekend to say adios to my dad. I can’t even begin to describe how massive the city is. It is also one of the highest cities in the world. So high in fact that they don’t have to worry about fires (flames cannot sustain themselves because the oxygen level is so low here). Thanks wikipedia! The city is nuzzled in between mountains, and in some cases the city even climbs up as high as the surrounding mountains to completely envelop them. It is almost like a ‘blanket’ of houses seem to cover everything as far as the eye can see in every direction. Only the highest snowy peaks of the Andes seem to have escaped, which you can see in the city’s background. I feel as if I still have done a poor job of describing the city… its massive ok?
I went to some museums while I was there, one was the World Press Photo exhibit which was amazing. The other was a museum of Bolivian musical instruments. Ever seen a guitar like this?
Overall the city was more international than Oruro… I was even able to get a slice of NY pizza there… which turned out to be gross, but still. The city was crawling the American backpackers too… why do all backpackers look alike? Grungy, dirty, very tall, white, and trying to fit in by wearing “authentic” clothing they just bought in the places they visited. Hostels have showers right? Anyway, here are some more photos of around the city: 
The city also seems to be a political battleground... every bare wall had political messages sprayed across it. This was sprayed outside my Aunt's house:
I met an aunt who lives there too, she is the one who helped my dad gain access to the US when he was 15. It took 2 years to get the paperwork in order, then my dad was able to move to Michigan with an uncle of his, Tio Daniel. Who funnily enough called today. I was kind of shocked to have someone call and speak English to me on the phone. He and his family live in Texas now… Texas! I talked to his daughter too who invited me to come there to visit anytime. I never figured I had family in Texas before… I guess I’ll have to stop making fun of the state now ;)
So I’ve resigned myself not to use this blog for any kind of whining… but man, I miss American food. Well that’s not correct, I really mean to say I miss all the food I had available to me in America. Mmm Japanese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, Italian. Even a decent pizza or burger! I’m finding more and more that there is a reason you never see a “Bolivian-style” restaurant in the US… because the food isn’t that great. They like everything deep-fried and oily here, and with lots of mayonnaise and ham. Ok ok… I’ll stop my whining there.
I hit up La Paz this weekend to say adios to my dad. I can’t even begin to describe how massive the city is. It is also one of the highest cities in the world. So high in fact that they don’t have to worry about fires (flames cannot sustain themselves because the oxygen level is so low here). Thanks wikipedia! The city is nuzzled in between mountains, and in some cases the city even climbs up as high as the surrounding mountains to completely envelop them. It is almost like a ‘blanket’ of houses seem to cover everything as far as the eye can see in every direction. Only the highest snowy peaks of the Andes seem to have escaped, which you can see in the city’s background. I feel as if I still have done a poor job of describing the city… its massive ok?
I went to some museums while I was there, one was the World Press Photo exhibit which was amazing. The other was a museum of Bolivian musical instruments. Ever seen a guitar like this?
Overall the city was more international than Oruro… I was even able to get a slice of NY pizza there… which turned out to be gross, but still. The city was crawling the American backpackers too… why do all backpackers look alike? Grungy, dirty, very tall, white, and trying to fit in by wearing “authentic” clothing they just bought in the places they visited. Hostels have showers right? Anyway, here are some more photos of around the city: 
The city also seems to be a political battleground... every bare wall had political messages sprayed across it. This was sprayed outside my Aunt's house:
I met an aunt who lives there too, she is the one who helped my dad gain access to the US when he was 15. It took 2 years to get the paperwork in order, then my dad was able to move to Michigan with an uncle of his, Tio Daniel. Who funnily enough called today. I was kind of shocked to have someone call and speak English to me on the phone. He and his family live in Texas now… Texas! I talked to his daughter too who invited me to come there to visit anytime. I never figured I had family in Texas before… I guess I’ll have to stop making fun of the state now ;)
So I’ve resigned myself not to use this blog for any kind of whining… but man, I miss American food. Well that’s not correct, I really mean to say I miss all the food I had available to me in America. Mmm Japanese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, Italian. Even a decent pizza or burger! I’m finding more and more that there is a reason you never see a “Bolivian-style” restaurant in the US… because the food isn’t that great. They like everything deep-fried and oily here, and with lots of mayonnaise and ham. Ok ok… I’ll stop my whining there.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Meeting the Bolivian Clan
My suspisions have been confirmed! My Abuela does chew coca leaves. I was talking about trying them and she surprised me by pulling out her personal stash. But its not the same stuff that gets Lindsay and Paris in trouble...
I've been trying to find things to keep me busy here, and starting next week I'll start volunteering at the children's cultural center. I'll be helping out with the gym class... which is ironic because that used to be my least favorite class in school. I will also be volunteering in a local orphanage. Its the same orphanage my grandmother was actually raised in for 15 years of her life. Her father died during the war, and his last wish was for his brother to help take care of his kids. He knew his wife could not take care of the 4 girls by herself. So his brother came back and told the girls to pack up, and he put them all in an orphanage. My grandmother was only 3 at the time. I didn't know this until recently. Her and her sisters all grew up together there together.
I've been meeting more family here in Bolivia. I have alot, and I'm getting confused as to who is my aunt, greant aunt, cousin, etc. I need to start some kind of family tree... the first thing they typically mention when they meet me is how tall I am. And one aunt called me "gordo" ...she is now my least favorite aunt. hehe just kidding.
Here are 2 aunts and my abuela looking at one of many photo albums dedicated to yours truly...
Tomorrow I'll be heading to Bolivia's capital, La Paz, to say goodbye to my dad. He's taking off and without him I will have to resort to a Spanish/English dictionary more often :(
Anyway, here are some odd sightings I've seen around town:
There is a restaurant called "El Negrito" that I think is kinda funny, in a politically incorrect way. Above the sign is another sign featuring a black chef holding his two thumbs up.
Seems like everyday this week, schools in the area have been having parades down the city center. The school bands come out to play and all the students, teachers and alumni dress in their uniforms and march in unison.
Mangoes are quite a bit larger down here. My dad brought me one the other day and it was the size of a newborn baby.
I've been trying to find things to keep me busy here, and starting next week I'll start volunteering at the children's cultural center. I'll be helping out with the gym class... which is ironic because that used to be my least favorite class in school. I will also be volunteering in a local orphanage. Its the same orphanage my grandmother was actually raised in for 15 years of her life. Her father died during the war, and his last wish was for his brother to help take care of his kids. He knew his wife could not take care of the 4 girls by herself. So his brother came back and told the girls to pack up, and he put them all in an orphanage. My grandmother was only 3 at the time. I didn't know this until recently. Her and her sisters all grew up together there together.
I've been meeting more family here in Bolivia. I have alot, and I'm getting confused as to who is my aunt, greant aunt, cousin, etc. I need to start some kind of family tree... the first thing they typically mention when they meet me is how tall I am. And one aunt called me "gordo" ...she is now my least favorite aunt. hehe just kidding.
Here are 2 aunts and my abuela looking at one of many photo albums dedicated to yours truly...
Tomorrow I'll be heading to Bolivia's capital, La Paz, to say goodbye to my dad. He's taking off and without him I will have to resort to a Spanish/English dictionary more often :(
Anyway, here are some odd sightings I've seen around town:
There is a restaurant called "El Negrito" that I think is kinda funny, in a politically incorrect way. Above the sign is another sign featuring a black chef holding his two thumbs up.
Seems like everyday this week, schools in the area have been having parades down the city center. The school bands come out to play and all the students, teachers and alumni dress in their uniforms and march in unison.
Mangoes are quite a bit larger down here. My dad brought me one the other day and it was the size of a newborn baby.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Bolivia, here I am.
So I’ve arrived here in Bolivia! But man was it a tough trip. We took the bus first which took a full 24 hours… then once we got into Bolivia it took another 24 hours by train. What was worse was the entertainment during the trip: the Wayan’s brothers “Little Man” is just as bad in Spanish. I snapped this photo as we approached the city:
Its alot different than Buenos Aires thats for sure. While in Buenos Aires, I could go to a shopping mall, or hit up a local McDonalds (even Kosher McDonalds). But none of that exists here.
There are no chain stores of any kind, no grocery stores, no usual fast food places. Instead, during the day, the entire city becomes a sprawling market, with vendors hawking everything from fake nikes, handmade jewelry, ripped movies, and coke leaves by the bag (coke is legal here). Actually my dad told me a funny story how my great grandmother and father did not get along well at all... unless they sat and chewed coke leaves together. I'll get around to trying it, and fill you in on the psychodelic trip that may ensue. We bought my abuela a fridge the other day at the market, she had been storing raw meat in cupboards or drawers. Plus she usually just buys her food daily from the market. Here is one pic of the market, it goes as far as the eye can see, and spills into every side street. Its huuuuuge.
Another thing about this place is that its hiiiigh above sea level, about 12,000 feet above sea level. I've been feeling out of breath alot, and my heart always seems to be racing. I'm hoping I get used to it soon. I'm staying at my abuela's house, she lives in a small alley way with her sister (who is 83) and a family she rents the place to. The place where my dad and his family grew up is in the back (barely visible in the pic), made of a kind of mud building material. My dad says he was surprised it was still standing. Him and his four brothers used to share one bed there.
My abuela runs a small store in the front of her room, it connects to her bedroom and kitchen, and to the room my dad and I are staying in. She opens ridiculously early, and people stroll past and yell "venda me!" My abuela then comes around the corner from where she is watching her telenovelas or knitting and helps them out. She stays open til about 10pm... she sure has energy... or maybe she's been chewing on some of those coke leaves;)
I have so much to blad about already, but I'll spare you til next time. I'll go into more about the city and its people next post. Meanwhile, here are some random photos around town. The first is a random street in the town. The second is a photo of the city's center where there is a little park. The last is a banner I figured Berkeley ethnic studies folks would like.
Its alot different than Buenos Aires thats for sure. While in Buenos Aires, I could go to a shopping mall, or hit up a local McDonalds (even Kosher McDonalds). But none of that exists here.
There are no chain stores of any kind, no grocery stores, no usual fast food places. Instead, during the day, the entire city becomes a sprawling market, with vendors hawking everything from fake nikes, handmade jewelry, ripped movies, and coke leaves by the bag (coke is legal here). Actually my dad told me a funny story how my great grandmother and father did not get along well at all... unless they sat and chewed coke leaves together. I'll get around to trying it, and fill you in on the psychodelic trip that may ensue. We bought my abuela a fridge the other day at the market, she had been storing raw meat in cupboards or drawers. Plus she usually just buys her food daily from the market. Here is one pic of the market, it goes as far as the eye can see, and spills into every side street. Its huuuuuge.
Another thing about this place is that its hiiiigh above sea level, about 12,000 feet above sea level. I've been feeling out of breath alot, and my heart always seems to be racing. I'm hoping I get used to it soon. I'm staying at my abuela's house, she lives in a small alley way with her sister (who is 83) and a family she rents the place to. The place where my dad and his family grew up is in the back (barely visible in the pic), made of a kind of mud building material. My dad says he was surprised it was still standing. Him and his four brothers used to share one bed there.
My abuela runs a small store in the front of her room, it connects to her bedroom and kitchen, and to the room my dad and I are staying in. She opens ridiculously early, and people stroll past and yell "venda me!" My abuela then comes around the corner from where she is watching her telenovelas or knitting and helps them out. She stays open til about 10pm... she sure has energy... or maybe she's been chewing on some of those coke leaves;)
I have so much to blad about already, but I'll spare you til next time. I'll go into more about the city and its people next post. Meanwhile, here are some random photos around town. The first is a random street in the town. The second is a photo of the city's center where there is a little park. The last is a banner I figured Berkeley ethnic studies folks would like.
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