*My Time Zone*

Do you remember? No matter where you lived on the island, it was five (or fifteen) minutes farther than I expected it to be. That is to say, I was always five (or fifteen) minutes late. I was late to church, to your birthday party, to my birthday party, to that meeting, to a rehearsal. I took too long to get showered, get dressed, or get changed. Occasionally I blamed my bike or my parents or my sister. A time or two, traffic held me up, or the line for a sandwich, or road construction. Usually, however, it was my fault. I admit it. You worked with it, and usually forgave me. In time, you learned to give me an earlier arrival date to accommodate for my tardiness. I hated being late, but had no power over myself to change my habits. I am a creature of habit after all. Now, my friends, I am issuing a warning: my problem has not been resolved by my time in the South. No, I’m afraid to announce I have become a victim to Bolivia time.
You may ask, what is Bolivian time? It’s not like Mountain Standard Time, Atlantic Daylight Time, Christmas time, or lunch time. It isn’t a set hour before or after another country or area. It’s not even official. You’ll never find printed in an governmental Bolivia fact book, ‘’Start getting ready when the party begins. Arrive an hour and a half later.’’ But that’s what it is. For all social purposes, later is generally better. Let’s look at some pretty common examples.
A friend’s birthday invitation said five o’clock. I arrived about a half hour late, and joined two other guests on the birthday girl’s bed as she got dressed and put on makeup. Guests arrived steadily for the next three hours. I’d say the majority of the people arrived between seven and eight pm. By nine pm, my host mother was ready to pick me up, and we hadn’t even begun to sing ‘’Happy Birthday.’’ That is Bolivia time.
I used to be part of a folk dance group in my school. One day our rehearsal was scheduled to start at two o’clock. I went out for salteñas with some friends at a quarter to two. Ten minutes later I expressed my concern, because being late for rehearsal (in the States, at least) is a crime second worse to nothing but murder. They laughed at me. They laughed and told me that no one would show up until two thirty. We played around and ate our salteñas, and took our own sweet time doing so. When we arrived at the rehearsal at two thirty, we were some of the first kids there. Close to an hour later, our instructor showed up. That is Bolivia time.
Thankfully, there are some exceptions to Bolivian time. If you fail to acknowledge these exceptions, the consequences can be pretty interesting. You should make sure to be on time to school, church, the airport, and anywhere with Shirley. I’ll quickly explain. The one time I was late to school, I was without my friends, so I didn’t know my schedule. I had to go ask the English aide where the heck I was to go. When I’m late to church, there’s no place to sit. Pretty simple. The airport should be obvious. It’s interesting though: the planes are always late. Why can’t the people be too? Shirley was the guide on the monster trip of Bolivia. She’s really good at lecturing, and enjoys it. If you don’t want to get chewed out nearly to the point of insanity, don’t be late. Besides those few examples, everything is on Bolivian time.
I’m coming home next July, and I’m really curious as to what will happen to me. Will I be later than I usually was? Will I overcompensate and be ridiculously early? I suppose things could stay as they were, but with all of the changes I’m experiencing in Bolivia, I doubt that. No, I’m fairly certain that until I can be retrained, Bolivia time will be with me wherever I am.

Back-To-School Special! *

Back to school sales. Patent leather Mary Janes and matching hair barrettes. Dragonflies zipping through the trees at sunset. The smell of crayons and freshly sharpened pencils. What do you associate with the back-to-school season? I admit, as a child, walking the halls of my elementary school before classes began gave me a thrill. I loved shopping for new outfits with my grandmother, I loved the first few days of introductions and rules, and I loved to chase the leaves that fell from the giant trees at recess. I was certifiable nerd, and proud of it. The end of summer was bittersweet; I’d miss the freedom, but looked forward to another year of learning.
I’ve changed a little since age eight, (most people have) but I never expected that back-to-school would feel like this. I’ve been nervous, I’ve been excited, and I’ve even outright dreaded the return, but never have I been so…calm about it. In the next week or two I’ll be starting the first third of my senior year, yet no strong emotion grips me. This may be because of the time difference. I’m not talking about the five measly hours between Bolivia and Alaska. This is much different. This is almost seven months different. This is almost seven months, a hemisphere, and a language different. That’s right, I’m about to start my senior year—in Bolivia.
I’m curious as to what the next six months will bring. I’m returning to the school of my junior, well, I can’t say year, since it was only two and a half months. In those two and a half months, people learned quite a bit about me. You might even say I had a reputation. Of not speaking Spanish… Before summer vacation began, my literature teacher leaned toward me and annunciated in crisp, overly-precise Spanish, ‘’Maybe you can read some books in Spanish this summer, so you can come back and do real work.’’ (Translated for your benefit.) I followed her instructions, and expect to finish Harry Potter y la Piedra Filosofal before the weekend. Despite my growing vocabulary, however, my Spanish is far from fluent. I know I’ve improved, but I don’t know if it’s enough to be a real member of class. If only Bolivians had a habit of repeating everything loudly and clearly!

blog

For the following note I'm ignoring Spanish Monday.

I realize I have not written an actual English blog for sometime, which I'm sorry for. I promise to get going on that soon. Maybe not tomorrow, probably not till after Christmas, but soon.

In the mean time, Happy Holidays.

Sincerly yours,
Erika

Español Lunes 2

Ay! Hoy es Español Lunes numero dos!!! Loco, no? Osea...¿que es nuevo?
Ayer hicimos muchas cosas navideña...
Despues el almuerzo, Mama, Carola, Edu, y yo ponemos el arbol de Navidad. Es un arbol muy bonita. ¡Pensé que el arbol sería falso, pero no es! Actualmente, es similar a ''hemlock,'' pero no sé que tipa es.
Más tarde, casi a las ocho, fui a la casa de una Hermana de mi iglesia. Tenemos una practica de coro para la Navidad. Tengo un parte donde canto sola. Siempre un hermano dijo -¡Más fuerte!-
Pero en mis meses sin canta, mi voz fuerte perdió su fuerza. Que triste. Pero me gusta a cantar no obstante.
Terminamos la practica como todos los actividades Mormones termina: con comida.
Cuando llegue a mi casa, ayudé a ponder bolos y luzes en el arbol de Navidad. Pero no aprendemos que los luzes no funcionaron hasta despues ellos estaban en el arbol. Jaja.

Y hoy...hoy quizas haré pies (no, no ''feet.'' Pie. El postre.) y iré a mis clases de baile como siempre. Y más...? No sé. Leeré Harry Potter en español y querré para Emily a dame su libro Twilight, para los días que no son Español Lunes. :)
Besitos,
Erika

Journal Excerpt

For all you crazies out there who are just dying to read my journal, here's a quick paragraph I wrote today. I was feeling especially poetic after finishing one of my favorite books for the billioneth time.

''The heavens are dropping down fat, heavy water bombs of rain. The air smells hot and wet and very much alive. It's the kind of rain that makes you inhale more deeply in an attempt to get more of it inside you without drowning. It's the kind of afternoon, being just before lunch, that makes one want to curl up ouside in a hammock, nurse a mug of something sweet, and dream of happy nothings in particular. It's an afternoon made for forgtting obligations, chores, and the mundane monotony of a life set too much in its ways . Deadlines should cease to exist on days like this, as should excess noise, electronics of more than the most necessary functions, and any future dates. It's a day for here, now, and no other time or place, save it be the other world of a novel. Diets should be called off. Insecurities and social taboos should vanish. For this one, perfect day, people should just live. We should be trees for a day, happy to be what we are. Tomorrow can be loud, busy and rushed. Just let today be. ''

Needless to say, today I'd much rather stay home than go to dance class. You know, give myself a chance to breathe. But that's not going to happen. No, I'm going to go to dance, then come home and eat, shower, and collapse on my bed, either with Jane Eyre, or a TV show. Because that's what I do now. Things might change later though. We'll see.

Español Lunes

Hola...hoy es el primero dia de Español Lunes. Iiii...no me gusta. jaja. Pero tengo la culpa, y necesito tratar a estar contenta.
Entonces, la historia de Español Lunes:
Decidí que no hablo bastante español en mi vida normal en Bolivia. Siempre estoy escuchando a musica en ingles, o la tele, or hablando con mis amigos. Siempre en ingles. ¡Pero quiero aprender a hablar español! Hice lunes ''Español Lunes'' a practicar mi español. Las reglas? Habla solo en español. Escucha a musica solo en español. Mira solo la tele en español. No lee libros en ingles. Escribiré en mi diario solo en español en lunes tambien. Hoy, por una hora traté a hablar solo en español y es tan deficil! Va a ser un dia muyyy largo.
Ahora: Papi, si quieres salir una nota, por favor, no edite este blog. Solo diceme que soy inteligente y maravillosa y bonita y fantastic y todos las cosas buenas.
Christian, puedes editar este si quieres.

A todos: feliz diciembre!! 18 dias hasta navidad!!
TQM,
Erika



Dad was wondering if I would translate this pretty little post for those of you who decided to take highschool French, instead of Spanish, so here goes:

Hi...Today is the first day of Spanish Monday. Eeeeeee...I don't like it. Haha. But it's my fault, so I need to try to be happy.
So, the history of Spanish Monday:
I decided I don't speak enough Spanish in my normal life in Bolivia. I'm always listening to music in English, or the TV, or talking with my friends. Always in English. But I want to learn to speak Spanish! I made Monday ''Spanish Monday'' to practice my Spanish. The rules? Only speak in Spanish. Listen to music only in Spanish. Watch the TV only in Spanish. Don't read books in English. Write in my journal only in Spanish on Mondays also. Today, for an hour I tried to speak only in Spanish, and it's so difficult! It's going to be a veryyyy long day.
Now, Dad, if you want to leave a note, please, don't edit this blog. Only tell me that I'm smart and maravolous and fantastic and pretty and all the good things.
Christian, you can edit this if you want.

To Everyone: Happy December!! 18 days until Christmas!!
Love ya lots,
Erika

*Christmas*

It is officially December, so Christmas is officially close enough for the normal person to celebrate. (As opposed to un-normal, like department store people, and fashion designers.) Part of me is thrilled at this, and is planning what gifts to give, how to decorate, and whether or not to make eggnog. Another part is pretty out of sorts. I suppose this is understandable, it being on average over eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Still, so many of my home traditions seem to have made it to my little South American corner of the world. Some make sense, but some just may surprise you.
The sixteenth of November began as a normal Sunday. I dressed, got a ride to church, then sat down and pulled out my little green hymnbook. I found the assigned page, and sat back to wait for the meeting to start. After the introductions, the chorister stood up and the congregation launched into a Spanish rendition of ''Joy to the World.'' I was not expecting that in the least! For me, Thanksgiving was always the start of the Christmas celebration. Before that last Thursday in November however, Christmas was only to be mentioned in passing. Sure, you could whistle Jingle Bells under your breath, but we never had a group as large as a church congregation singing ''Silent Night'' until after Thanksgiving! I was shocked, to be sure. After the song, I asked a girl why we were singing Christmas songs so early, and she told me that they always sing them, even in August! I guess starting the Christmas celebration after Thanksgiving makes no sense to people who don’t celebrate the United States Thanksgiving.
Not soon after, the billboards and storefronts started gearing up. Thirty foot signs depict Santa quenching his thirst with a Coke, and plastic Christmas trees squat in every available grocery store corner. Cotton snow and paper snowflakes are stuck to windows, and holiday getaways are being advertised in the newspapers. There are even Santas with white beards holding children on their laps at the entrances of grocery stores. The Christmas spirit is definitely growing as we begin the last December of 2008.
You’re probably seeing much of the same things if you’re in the States. The only difference is that they seem to fit so much better there to me. I break out in a sweat just looking at the poor man in a fuzzy red suit standing out in the full sunshine while the rest of the world is wearing shorts. The plastic pines look alien next to the ever-green mangos and palms. I love the spirit associated with these traditional decorations, but my body and brain are so confused by the contrasts. If I were to choose a Christmas tree from my yard, I would decorate the lemon tree. I would paint Papa Noel in swim trucks and a white tank top. I would have a Christmas pool party and retape the song so it sang ‘’I’m dreaming of a tan Christmas.’’ All of this is me not adjusting to my environment. Shame on me. I came with preconceptions; I couldn’t help it. I thought my Christmas would be insanely different, and now that so much appears the same, I’m just plain out of whack.
There are some differences, thank goodness. My mother says she doesn’t know any Christmas carols. The majority of the celebrating is done on Christmas Eve. Presents are opened after the midnight mass of Christmas Eve, then for Christmas itself, people are said to sleep and relax. Those are all different concepts to me, and I’m thankful for them. If things were too much like home, I might open up to the ever-knocking homesickness. By keeping my distance from what I’m used to, I can enjoy my new experiences. Perhaps it’s slightly twisted logic, but it seems to be working. I’m meshing my two worlds into one colorful hammock of reds and greens and tinsels and pine boughs. When Christmas arrives, I will be content to swing in my two worlds, and love both of them. The majority of my holidays are still based around family--that won't change. There will still be presents and jokes and food. Even some of the superficial is the same.
It’s December, so go celebrate. Whatever you're doing this holiday season, I hope you're enjoying it. It’s a time to be happy. So please, please be happy. Happy Holidays.