It was perfect Saturday afternoon. Caity’s real mom was in town from the States, and Melissa knew the microbus that would take us practically to the front gates for only a Boliviano each. We had no excuses to not go to the zoo. We grabbed our cash and cameras and hopped aboard the micro. I for one wasn’t sure what to expect. I had heard good and bad stories of Santa Cruz’s zoo. Many said it is dirty, and the animals are poorly cared for. Others mentioned its size, lack of it really, but didn’t have complaints other than that. I had always pictured elephants and tigers in small cages being poked with soda straws by children and employees alike. It turns out, the zoo was nothing like I expected. In most of it I had a blast, and it appeared like the animals did too. Unfortunately, there were also portions that were depressing. It balanced out, giving me a newfound appreciation for animals.
To start things off light, I’m going to tell a bit about the happy-looking animals. We first saw the birds. Giant cages held parrots, toucans, something called a Harpy Eagle, a large owl, and even a Condor. The toucans were cute, and were dead ringers for the guy on the Fruit Loops box. The Harpy Eagle, owl, and Condor were magnificent, huge, and possessed the tranquility that is unique to birds of prey. I can only imagine how they’d appear in the wild. Even so, the parrots were definitely my favorite of the birds. Brightly-colored, and loud, they quickly caught the eye. One particular breed called, ‘’Hola, hola,’’ as we stopped by their enclosure. I yelled, ‘’Caity, come here!’’ and behind me a parrot quoted, ‘’Caity,’’ in its funny little parrot voice. We loved it. We coerced the parrots to say Erika and Melissa also. As we walked away we heard them talking to some other girls, ‘’Bonita. Mamita.’’ Past the parrots we entered into the bird house, where ironically, I didn’t see many birds. There was however a turtle running wild. I’m not joking, that little guy was speedy! Even better, they had an anteater! It was possible the most bizarre creature I’ve ever seen. I know a trip to the zoo doesn’t exactly count as seeing it wild, but I feel the need to inform the public: that anteater was weird! It had a tail nearly the length of its body, with long black, white and brown hairs hanging down a foot or so. It looked almost feathery. It ran faster than the turtle. Beyond the bird house, our little group enjoyed trying to identify some of the more unusual animals. We also watched pigs and capybaras, llamas and sloths. The sloth is my new favorite animal. Every move it makes is slow and deliberate, but has more flexibility than I could ever pray for. Its face is the picture of calm, and legend has it if you are heartless enough to hold a knife up to it, it will shed tears. In short, the animals that appeared happy made me happy.
Sadly, not all animals are as chill as the sloth. The leopard, pumas, and foxes looked rather miserable. I can’t say I blame them. Each had a concrete and wire cell the size of my bedroom. Their water bowls were green with algae, and the moss on the floor was worn off in well-paced tracks. It hurt to see, and was hard to comprehend. Why in the world did the pigs have meters and meters of space to root and roll in the mud, but the giant cats were confined to cells? I can only be glad that only a few animals were treated like that, and the rest appeared to be living happy lives.
All in all, the trip was a success. I got to hang out with friends, and look at giant anacondas! I didn’t see these animals in the wild, but it was still really really fun. I suppose I had forgotten what zoos could be like, even small ones like this one. True, is was sad to see the captive cats, but on the whole Saturday’s trip to the zoo added up to an experience that will stay with me.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
*Rain me a River*
In an attempt to beef of this blog so I can beef up my English grade, I dug through my journals for inspiration. Ms. Christian said I can use actual entries too, but I've found I'm not ready for the general public to read my innermost thoughts, secrets, and pie recipes. Also, I often get caught up on getting facts onto paper, and the quality of my writing suffers for it. It's probably safe to say that my best entries have come from observing nature when life isn't in the way. My favorites are about rain. Some have been edited slightly, but I didn't change anywords. What you're about to read is as close to my actual journals as you'll ever get. Repititions, excessive punctuation, and the like are how I actually write. Enjoy.
August 28th, 2008
It’s raining! ¡Está lloviendo! After a suffocatingly humid morning, we’ve been blessed with rain! Well, it’s still suffocating, but at least there’s actual visible water. I can blame my damp clothes on precipitation, not perspiration.
September 20th, 2008
I’ve noticed a pattern here. It occurs just about every week. Saturday and Sunday are usually cold, then around Tuesday or Wednesday it warms up to comfortable. Thursday and Fridays are almost always HOT, with Friday being very HUMID also. You go to bed with only a sheet because of the heat and the bizarre desire to ignore the AC, but when you wake up, it’s almost certain to have rained in the night and made everything cold again. It’s like our weather is a sick person, always feeling too hot or too cold so it’s always changing.
November 6th, 2008
There is nothing quite like a 1pm Thunderstorm to boost your mood. Just had to mention that brief, amazing spectacle of nature before going back to school. A quick splattering of raindrops, a few sharp flashes, and rumbles that just get farther and farther away. Beautiful.
¡Que fantastico! I thought I had gotten a special 5 minute storm, but Oh-No! Just as we got to the school, the heavens were unleashed and buckets and barrels and casks of water dropped down on us. And hey, it was the last day of classes, so several Bolivians and I ran around in the blessed wet, until the Headmistress started yelling at us. Something about us being seniors now, or something to that effect.
December 10th, 2008
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.
December 11th, 2008
…then it started to rain so I went outside and danced in it, and that was great, but I think the water broke one of my earbuds…
…I texted until almost 2am, all the while I was sitting outside watching the rain. I didn’t start to get chilly till the very end.
December 13th, 2008
I just participated in a fun little family-frenzy activity. Today started out cool, then got very hot, then very humid, then the heavens opened all over the drying laundry. Aida, Carola, Edu, and I ran outside and pulled it all off the lines as fast as we could. I love rain.
December 22nd, 2008
Está lloviendo. Había relampago, y yo puedo oyer mucho thunder ahora. Estaré triste cuando el estacion de lluvia termina. Es mi favorito estacion acá. No en Sitka, pero aquí es perfecto.
Translation: It’s raining. There was lightening, and I can hear a lot of thunder now. I’ll be sad when the rainy season finishes. It’s my favorite season here. Not in Sitka, but here it’s perfect.
December 25h, 2008
I’m sitting out on the patio of the resort, passing what is, I’m quite sure, my most unusual Christmas. Perhaps in an attempt to make the lack of snow more bearable, Santa Cruz was blessed with a soft rain and a temperature that, while by no means cool, is at least not too warm to wear my hair down.
January 29th, 2009
…Sometime after I fell asleep, it began to rain a deliciously rhythmic rain that made the humidity bearable and my sleep, well, fun. I had some rockin’ dreams.
February 7th, 2009
I started reading sometime around midnight. It had been a muggy, cloudy evening. Rain started up, and thunder rumbled now and then, so I slipped on sweat shorts and my Fireweed jacket and leaned against my door outside until the mosquitoes drove me back to my bed. It was there, on my bed, with Christmas lights and rain in the background, and a book featuring Fork, WA (a small town that is, incredibly, rainier than Sitka,) that I felt so completely at home.
…And then with thunder grand enough to set off car alarms (or some weird beeping, whirly sound) I fell in love.
March 9th, 2009
It’s started raining and thundering and, as ever, it’s spectacular.
…It’s absolutely dumping at the moment. The splashes are misting my legs. If I didn’t have to go back to school I’d go dance in it.
…Now the lawn’s flooding and the roof gutter pipe is gushing water, shooting it out like the pipes at the top of a waterslide. The laundry’s swaying slightly on the line, dripping. If I watch, I can actually see the water rise over the grass. One little lime on the baby lime tree is stooping so low on its branch that it’s nearly touching the water. I’m still being misted. Snails are appearing. They love this.
Why did watering Mom’s bathroom aloe vera plant kill it? Our aloe’s experiencing a high pressure shower and will be fine tomorrow.
There is now a visible current in front of me, and at least a good quarter of the yard is submerged.
I want some rubber boots to wear to school with my uniform. Xtra-Tuffs would rock
I wonder where the snails go when it’s dry out.
It seems the only place it’s cool in Santa Cruz is the sky. This water’s cold!
Now I have to get ready to go back to school. And still it rains. Joy, peace, love.
August 28th, 2008
It’s raining! ¡Está lloviendo! After a suffocatingly humid morning, we’ve been blessed with rain! Well, it’s still suffocating, but at least there’s actual visible water. I can blame my damp clothes on precipitation, not perspiration.
September 20th, 2008
I’ve noticed a pattern here. It occurs just about every week. Saturday and Sunday are usually cold, then around Tuesday or Wednesday it warms up to comfortable. Thursday and Fridays are almost always HOT, with Friday being very HUMID also. You go to bed with only a sheet because of the heat and the bizarre desire to ignore the AC, but when you wake up, it’s almost certain to have rained in the night and made everything cold again. It’s like our weather is a sick person, always feeling too hot or too cold so it’s always changing.
November 6th, 2008
There is nothing quite like a 1pm Thunderstorm to boost your mood. Just had to mention that brief, amazing spectacle of nature before going back to school. A quick splattering of raindrops, a few sharp flashes, and rumbles that just get farther and farther away. Beautiful.
¡Que fantastico! I thought I had gotten a special 5 minute storm, but Oh-No! Just as we got to the school, the heavens were unleashed and buckets and barrels and casks of water dropped down on us. And hey, it was the last day of classes, so several Bolivians and I ran around in the blessed wet, until the Headmistress started yelling at us. Something about us being seniors now, or something to that effect.
December 10th, 2008
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.
December 11th, 2008
…then it started to rain so I went outside and danced in it, and that was great, but I think the water broke one of my earbuds…
…I texted until almost 2am, all the while I was sitting outside watching the rain. I didn’t start to get chilly till the very end.
December 13th, 2008
I just participated in a fun little family-frenzy activity. Today started out cool, then got very hot, then very humid, then the heavens opened all over the drying laundry. Aida, Carola, Edu, and I ran outside and pulled it all off the lines as fast as we could. I love rain.
December 22nd, 2008
Está lloviendo. Había relampago, y yo puedo oyer mucho thunder ahora. Estaré triste cuando el estacion de lluvia termina. Es mi favorito estacion acá. No en Sitka, pero aquí es perfecto.
Translation: It’s raining. There was lightening, and I can hear a lot of thunder now. I’ll be sad when the rainy season finishes. It’s my favorite season here. Not in Sitka, but here it’s perfect.
December 25h, 2008
I’m sitting out on the patio of the resort, passing what is, I’m quite sure, my most unusual Christmas. Perhaps in an attempt to make the lack of snow more bearable, Santa Cruz was blessed with a soft rain and a temperature that, while by no means cool, is at least not too warm to wear my hair down.
January 29th, 2009
…Sometime after I fell asleep, it began to rain a deliciously rhythmic rain that made the humidity bearable and my sleep, well, fun. I had some rockin’ dreams.
February 7th, 2009
I started reading sometime around midnight. It had been a muggy, cloudy evening. Rain started up, and thunder rumbled now and then, so I slipped on sweat shorts and my Fireweed jacket and leaned against my door outside until the mosquitoes drove me back to my bed. It was there, on my bed, with Christmas lights and rain in the background, and a book featuring Fork, WA (a small town that is, incredibly, rainier than Sitka,) that I felt so completely at home.
…And then with thunder grand enough to set off car alarms (or some weird beeping, whirly sound) I fell in love.
March 9th, 2009
It’s started raining and thundering and, as ever, it’s spectacular.
…It’s absolutely dumping at the moment. The splashes are misting my legs. If I didn’t have to go back to school I’d go dance in it.
…Now the lawn’s flooding and the roof gutter pipe is gushing water, shooting it out like the pipes at the top of a waterslide. The laundry’s swaying slightly on the line, dripping. If I watch, I can actually see the water rise over the grass. One little lime on the baby lime tree is stooping so low on its branch that it’s nearly touching the water. I’m still being misted. Snails are appearing. They love this.
Why did watering Mom’s bathroom aloe vera plant kill it? Our aloe’s experiencing a high pressure shower and will be fine tomorrow.
There is now a visible current in front of me, and at least a good quarter of the yard is submerged.
I want some rubber boots to wear to school with my uniform. Xtra-Tuffs would rock
I wonder where the snails go when it’s dry out.
It seems the only place it’s cool in Santa Cruz is the sky. This water’s cold!
Now I have to get ready to go back to school. And still it rains. Joy, peace, love.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Español Miércoles
Hola. Estoy en la clase de computadoras, pero porque nadie está aca (todo están mirar una exposicion de Leonardo DaVinci pero Olesya y yo.) asi que podemos usar internet.
Hoy hay mucho frio y un poca lluvia. Es diferente. Casi llevé mangas largas, pero en lugar de ese trajé la chompita del promo.
Ahora juego en el internet...especialmente en Facebook.
Arrghh. No sé que debo decir. No dormí mucho anoche...estaba escribiendo hasta tarde--medianoche no más. Probablemente creerías mi diario es aburrido. No sé. Solo, cuando estoy aburrida, escribo. A veces por paginas y paginas y más paginas. Espero que, un día, cuando no puedo recordar nada de la vida, puedo leerlos y recordar Bolivia y mi vida aca.
Ahora en el cole, todos piden cuando voy a salir. Cuando digo julio, están sorpendido que no voy a terminar el año aca. No voy a ir al viaje del Promo a Cancún. No voy a ir a ''Prom.'' Y voy a regresarme? No sé. Sí, quiero volver algún lugar en tiempo (esta es una pelicula, jajaja) pero no sé cuando. ¡Tengo que ir a la universidad, pero primero tengo que terminar mi año Promo en Alaska! En la universidad quiero estudiar español. Si hago este, podría a viajar, ¿pero a Bolivia? Entonces, sí, quiero volver. Además, quiero viajar a otros lugares. Lo haré. Y después aprender español perfectamente voy a aprender otra idioma. ¿Japonesa? ¿Italiano? ¿Portugues? No sé.
Hoy hay mucho frio y un poca lluvia. Es diferente. Casi llevé mangas largas, pero en lugar de ese trajé la chompita del promo.
Ahora juego en el internet...especialmente en Facebook.
Arrghh. No sé que debo decir. No dormí mucho anoche...estaba escribiendo hasta tarde--medianoche no más. Probablemente creerías mi diario es aburrido. No sé. Solo, cuando estoy aburrida, escribo. A veces por paginas y paginas y más paginas. Espero que, un día, cuando no puedo recordar nada de la vida, puedo leerlos y recordar Bolivia y mi vida aca.
Ahora en el cole, todos piden cuando voy a salir. Cuando digo julio, están sorpendido que no voy a terminar el año aca. No voy a ir al viaje del Promo a Cancún. No voy a ir a ''Prom.'' Y voy a regresarme? No sé. Sí, quiero volver algún lugar en tiempo (esta es una pelicula, jajaja) pero no sé cuando. ¡Tengo que ir a la universidad, pero primero tengo que terminar mi año Promo en Alaska! En la universidad quiero estudiar español. Si hago este, podría a viajar, ¿pero a Bolivia? Entonces, sí, quiero volver. Además, quiero viajar a otros lugares. Lo haré. Y después aprender español perfectamente voy a aprender otra idioma. ¿Japonesa? ¿Italiano? ¿Portugues? No sé.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
RANT, and my shoes
Ooh. I'm upset. I'm really really freakin' real upset. Yes, upset enough to purposely use improper grammer. Why? Because for the last, what is it now? 5, I think, days I've been without Facebook. I don't get it!!! I wanna get on Facebook and I can't. Even all of those proxies I memorized Freshmen and Sophomore year don't work. It's driving me crazy.
Oh yeah, and the city's under seige. Not really. But all of the businesses are closed down so everyone can go home and eradicate mosquito (aka dengue) breeding grounds (any stagnant water.) I'm at a loss as to what to do, and I haven't had my drug (Facebook, jaja) in ages.
Sooo....what I would have told you on FB if I had FB:
Mom, Dad: Thank you!!! I got two packages, yesterday and the day before yesterday. I'm using the Spanish work book, a couple pages a day. And I ate my Valentine's candy already. :D Thanks for everything. I love it!!!!!
Brittany: I've been thinking, are you going to practice any Spanish for when you come down? I'm reallly reallllly looking forward to translating everything for you and feeling really smart. Super excited babe.
My dear various friends: I've had little moments when I've wanted to write you here and there. The problem is, now I don't remember them. But I still love you all.
I guess in reality, maybe I should cut down on all of those little notes. But I really don't think they hurt. I really missing reading bits of Dad's book though, and finding out when people's birthdays are.
So, díme: why isn't it working?
Here's a quick, funny story for ya: I went to Beni in January. My shoes went with me, but they liked it so much they stayed there. I didn't even know they were gone till the other week when I needed them for gym class. You really can't do gym in peep-toed heels. They were wonderful shoes. I'd had them forever, but they stayed strong till the end. They were there for me on various hikes. They'd gotten stuck in mud. They proudly and shamelessly modeled hot pink laces given from Ms. Wilson. They rocked out at various dances. They were with me riding horses, and riding bikes. They got drenched from rain, melted snow, and stuff I'd rather not think about. They traveled through most of Bolivia with me, and in the end, chose Bení to be their final resting place.
And it's now that I realize my shoes. Let them be free and happy and very muddy in Bení.
And please let me find some new ones soon so I can participate in gym class and workout more comfortably at home.
Woah, what a freakish blog I have. But I love it, like you. Feel lucky.
Besos
Oh yeah, and the city's under seige. Not really. But all of the businesses are closed down so everyone can go home and eradicate mosquito (aka dengue) breeding grounds (any stagnant water.) I'm at a loss as to what to do, and I haven't had my drug (Facebook, jaja) in ages.
Sooo....what I would have told you on FB if I had FB:
Mom, Dad: Thank you!!! I got two packages, yesterday and the day before yesterday. I'm using the Spanish work book, a couple pages a day. And I ate my Valentine's candy already. :D Thanks for everything. I love it!!!!!
Brittany: I've been thinking, are you going to practice any Spanish for when you come down? I'm reallly reallllly looking forward to translating everything for you and feeling really smart. Super excited babe.
My dear various friends: I've had little moments when I've wanted to write you here and there. The problem is, now I don't remember them. But I still love you all.
I guess in reality, maybe I should cut down on all of those little notes. But I really don't think they hurt. I really missing reading bits of Dad's book though, and finding out when people's birthdays are.
So, díme: why isn't it working?
Here's a quick, funny story for ya: I went to Beni in January. My shoes went with me, but they liked it so much they stayed there. I didn't even know they were gone till the other week when I needed them for gym class. You really can't do gym in peep-toed heels. They were wonderful shoes. I'd had them forever, but they stayed strong till the end. They were there for me on various hikes. They'd gotten stuck in mud. They proudly and shamelessly modeled hot pink laces given from Ms. Wilson. They rocked out at various dances. They were with me riding horses, and riding bikes. They got drenched from rain, melted snow, and stuff I'd rather not think about. They traveled through most of Bolivia with me, and in the end, chose Bení to be their final resting place.
And it's now that I realize my shoes. Let them be free and happy and very muddy in Bení.
And please let me find some new ones soon so I can participate in gym class and workout more comfortably at home.
Woah, what a freakish blog I have. But I love it, like you. Feel lucky.
Besos
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
*Letters, Sentences, Stamps: MAIL!*
I’m having an awful day. I didn’t understand any of my classes, I’m not getting along with my host family, and my school shoes give me blisters. The worst part is the day’s only half over. Mama picks my brother and me up from school and we go home to eat lunch. I put on my plastic flip-flops then go join the family at the table. There’s no salad. This sucks. I say ‘’provecho’’ as soon as I’ve forced down half a plate of rice and chicken, and stand up. Then I see it. There on the counter is a large white envelope. It’s completely beaten up along the edges and has post office stamps dating back to weeks before. It’s addressed to me. Suddenly my terrible day is awesome, musical worthy. I sing and dance a little as I tear open the top of the envelope and find home.
This isn’t based on one specific memory. I’m not lonely or sad, and today was pretty fantastic. There is one thing that will always be able to brighten a day in Bolivia however, no matter how perfect it may already be. It’s the mail. A letter from home guarantees a half hour of pure joy every time I read it. Care packages have been the reason for several exchange student get-together. ‘’Here, eat a Milky Way!’’ ‘’Look what this lady from church sent me!’’ ‘’Hey, I got pirate tattoos. Want one?’’ The first time I received reading material (Thank you!) I holed myself up in my room and read half the book, wrote in my journal about it, then finished it. There is really nothing like getting a tangible reminder that people love and remember you, especially considering the distance that reminder travels.
I have in front of me a Christmas card I received this year. The envelope is smudged and the edges are slightly dented and bent. I don’t know when it left Alaska, but it was stamped in Seattle, Washington on the twentieth of December, 2008. For the next nineteen days my brave little Christmas card traveled the world. I have no idea where it went, or why it decided to take a two and a half week vacation. I did not give it permission to travel farther than Bolivia! Wherever it may have gone, it arrived in my country on the eighth of January, 2009. Four days later it moseyed on over to Santa Cruz and I got a very merry Christmas wish on the twelfth of January, only twenty-three days after my little card passed through Seattle. What took it so long? Did it see the Egyptian pyramids? Did it try surfing in Australia (with a dry suit of course)? Really, what path did it take?
Earlier in 2008 I received a different card. I can’t tell you when it left Alaska or the United States, but I do have questions about its broken curfew. If I were in Santa Cruz for three days without coming or calling home, I would be sent back to Alaska faster than a Bolivian could eat a salteña. Lucky for it, I would never send mail back, even though it was stamped upon arrival in Santa Cruz on November seventh, then stamped again in Santa Cruz on November tenth. It took less time for it to travel from La Paz to Santa Cruz than it did for it to hang out in Santa Cruz, maybe drinking some mate.
Despite my griping over the time it takes for me to finally get it, I really love mail. I love getting it, opening it, reading it, tasting it (a particularly memorable bag of smoke salmon) and composing mental replies. On occasion I even write back. True, mail is slow, expensive, and unreliable. In the modern world, there isn’t much time or space to sit down and put thoughts on paper and send them to someone else. I love emails, I love text messages, and I really love Facebook, but I love letters too. There’s something practically therapeutic about putting down worries and joys onto paper, sending them far away, then being reminded of them weeks later. It’s also fun spreading a conversation over the course of months. It doesn’t make much sense, but its fun all the same. If life doesn’t catch up to me when I go home, I may even continue writing letters. They’re a reminder of a simpler time, and they can make a day go from awful, to awesome in an instant.
And thank you Pam. I featured two of your cards in this piece. :)
This isn’t based on one specific memory. I’m not lonely or sad, and today was pretty fantastic. There is one thing that will always be able to brighten a day in Bolivia however, no matter how perfect it may already be. It’s the mail. A letter from home guarantees a half hour of pure joy every time I read it. Care packages have been the reason for several exchange student get-together. ‘’Here, eat a Milky Way!’’ ‘’Look what this lady from church sent me!’’ ‘’Hey, I got pirate tattoos. Want one?’’ The first time I received reading material (Thank you!) I holed myself up in my room and read half the book, wrote in my journal about it, then finished it. There is really nothing like getting a tangible reminder that people love and remember you, especially considering the distance that reminder travels.
I have in front of me a Christmas card I received this year. The envelope is smudged and the edges are slightly dented and bent. I don’t know when it left Alaska, but it was stamped in Seattle, Washington on the twentieth of December, 2008. For the next nineteen days my brave little Christmas card traveled the world. I have no idea where it went, or why it decided to take a two and a half week vacation. I did not give it permission to travel farther than Bolivia! Wherever it may have gone, it arrived in my country on the eighth of January, 2009. Four days later it moseyed on over to Santa Cruz and I got a very merry Christmas wish on the twelfth of January, only twenty-three days after my little card passed through Seattle. What took it so long? Did it see the Egyptian pyramids? Did it try surfing in Australia (with a dry suit of course)? Really, what path did it take?
Earlier in 2008 I received a different card. I can’t tell you when it left Alaska or the United States, but I do have questions about its broken curfew. If I were in Santa Cruz for three days without coming or calling home, I would be sent back to Alaska faster than a Bolivian could eat a salteña. Lucky for it, I would never send mail back, even though it was stamped upon arrival in Santa Cruz on November seventh, then stamped again in Santa Cruz on November tenth. It took less time for it to travel from La Paz to Santa Cruz than it did for it to hang out in Santa Cruz, maybe drinking some mate.
Despite my griping over the time it takes for me to finally get it, I really love mail. I love getting it, opening it, reading it, tasting it (a particularly memorable bag of smoke salmon) and composing mental replies. On occasion I even write back. True, mail is slow, expensive, and unreliable. In the modern world, there isn’t much time or space to sit down and put thoughts on paper and send them to someone else. I love emails, I love text messages, and I really love Facebook, but I love letters too. There’s something practically therapeutic about putting down worries and joys onto paper, sending them far away, then being reminded of them weeks later. It’s also fun spreading a conversation over the course of months. It doesn’t make much sense, but its fun all the same. If life doesn’t catch up to me when I go home, I may even continue writing letters. They’re a reminder of a simpler time, and they can make a day go from awful, to awesome in an instant.
And thank you Pam. I featured two of your cards in this piece. :)
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Ramble, Bramble
Aaaahhhh....it feels nice to just write to cyberspace again. It's been awhile. I started school two weeks ago, then got sick last week. And now I'm just chillin, trying to figure out what the heck is gonna go on back at school tomorrow. Lovely, no?
It's a gorgeous day. Sunny, not too hot, windy. I love it.
Yesterday I chilled at a churrasco with Caity, Melissa, and some of their lovely Bolivian friends. I think I have more friends that are their friends, or Emily's friends, than my own. Interesting, no?
And...que mas. Twilight is finally in the Cine. I'm gonna see it finally!!! I'm in serious need of some romance on the screen or in a book. My new verb book is great to study, but it's just not the same as a chick flick. You know what I mean? I miss good, okay, and romantic, literature. Not that I've been lacking for long. And I really ought to be reading Don Quixote for school, but I haven't bought a new dictionary yet.
That's my goal for today: buy a dictionary. I really miss my little yellow dictionary. I have no clue what happened to it, but I loved it dearly, and miss it sorely.
Speaking of sore, I could really use a massage. Wanna gimme one? My back aches. It's probably from that chickenfight in the pool yesterday. I won. Twice. :)
Mmm...it's a good day to be in Bolivia. So I'm gonna go be in Bolivia. Buy a dictionary. Maybe a slushy or icecream.
Love ya muchly,
E
It's a gorgeous day. Sunny, not too hot, windy. I love it.
Yesterday I chilled at a churrasco with Caity, Melissa, and some of their lovely Bolivian friends. I think I have more friends that are their friends, or Emily's friends, than my own. Interesting, no?
And...que mas. Twilight is finally in the Cine. I'm gonna see it finally!!! I'm in serious need of some romance on the screen or in a book. My new verb book is great to study, but it's just not the same as a chick flick. You know what I mean? I miss good, okay, and romantic, literature. Not that I've been lacking for long. And I really ought to be reading Don Quixote for school, but I haven't bought a new dictionary yet.
That's my goal for today: buy a dictionary. I really miss my little yellow dictionary. I have no clue what happened to it, but I loved it dearly, and miss it sorely.
Speaking of sore, I could really use a massage. Wanna gimme one? My back aches. It's probably from that chickenfight in the pool yesterday. I won. Twice. :)
Mmm...it's a good day to be in Bolivia. So I'm gonna go be in Bolivia. Buy a dictionary. Maybe a slushy or icecream.
Love ya muchly,
E
*The People on the Bus*
The wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round, ‘round and ‘round, ‘round and ‘round. The wheels of the bus should have gone ‘round fairly consistently for seven hours that night.
The people on the bus go up and down, up and down, up and down. The people on the bus should have been sleeping, but the majority still went up and down.
The teacher on the bus goes, ‘’Quiet please,’’ ‘’Quiet please,’’ ‘’Quiet please.’’ The teacher on the bus went, ‘’Students! You need to all sit down now and be quiet! We are not the only people on this bus and you aren’t being considerate! And no more bathroom breaks. Go to sleep or just shut up!’’
The Argentineans on the bus get angrier. The hitchhikers on the bus get colder. The wheels on the bus stop.
In the grand tour of Bolivia, we Rotary kids had our fair share of bus rides. The worst was an extended climb through the mountains from the Uyuni Salt Flats to Potosí. It was uncomfortable for various reasons. Physically, none of us were in the best shape (understatement of the century!) Environmental factors, such as the insanely high altitude, did little to help this. Then we had to somehow control our tempers in front of complete strangers. Finally, all of this was taking place between the hours of about three in the afternoon, and three in the morning. All of this made for an unfortunately unforgettable bus ride.
We boarded the bus in Uyuni with relatively high spirits. We had spent the day on the Uyuni Salt Flats, an adventure I’ll never forget. Sadly, our high maturity levels don’t always equal high levels of common sense. Half of us got on that bus with terrible sunburns. Our arms were burned. Our faces were burned. Our necks and backs and hands were burned. Anyone who has ever forgotten their sunscreen knows that when the sun cooks you pink, all you want is an ibuprofen, and plenty of lotion. The later the night got however, the more we had to the layer the woolens over our fried skin, creating an uncomfortable cocoon over baked caterpillars. I managed a kind of sick gratitude to my feverish skin. The excess heat helped me stay warm on the unheated bus. Temperature wasn’t the only physical problem we faced however. Our destination, Potosí, is the highest city in the world, with an elevation of 13,350 feet. Despite the altitude pills, some of us had some pretty bad reactions to the heights. I had a persistent stomach ache, but that wasn’t the worst of it.
Possibly the worst part was that we weren’t alone on the bus. First, there were the rather vocal Argentinean backpackers. These women probably had the short end of the deal, having to ride with fifteen unhappy teenagers through the middle of the night. Even so, their sporadic exclamations did not help the experience for anyone. The hitchhikers annoyed merely by their presence. I feel terrible about this, and know that I ought to be more understanding. It was difficult to be understanding at one in the morning when my friend was pushed into my side by a woman sitting on her arm rest. There was another lady using my duffel bag as a seat in the aisle. Thankfully nothing broke. Farther back, I heard complaints from students whose legs were used as pillows, or who were reluctantly forced to yield corners of blankets to the hitchhikers.
All of this would have been merely another adventure if it followed a reasonable time plan. I can’t even blame our extra five hours on the road on Bolivian travel systems. Our first pit stop pulled us over for several hours. The bus had broken. On the bright side, we still had enough energy then to find a bright side, that meant several hours of unlimited ‘’bathroom’’ use. True, that was just the side of the road, but it made several bladders very happy. After the bus finally clunked to a start again and we had driven for an hour or two, the rains in the mountains slowed us up. The roads weren’t safe, and again we were waiting, freezing.
As we pulled into Potosí five hours behind schedule, I shrugged. It was the only outward expression I had energy enough for, though inside I was jumping up and down and screaming the Hallelujah chorus. I gratefully dumped my duffel, released from its position of hitchhiker seat, and got into the shower. It hurt too much to wash my sunburned face, and my hair was too tangled to work shampoo or conditioner through it, so I dried off and gratefully, and gingerly, climbed under my layers of thick wool blankets. Our guide Shirley had graciously given us the option of skipping breakfast, so long as we were dressed and ready for the next day’s adventure by ten a.m. It, too, involved a bus ride, though not quite so terrible as this one. I don’t think it could’ve been.
The people on the bus go up and down, up and down, up and down. The people on the bus should have been sleeping, but the majority still went up and down.
The teacher on the bus goes, ‘’Quiet please,’’ ‘’Quiet please,’’ ‘’Quiet please.’’ The teacher on the bus went, ‘’Students! You need to all sit down now and be quiet! We are not the only people on this bus and you aren’t being considerate! And no more bathroom breaks. Go to sleep or just shut up!’’
The Argentineans on the bus get angrier. The hitchhikers on the bus get colder. The wheels on the bus stop.
In the grand tour of Bolivia, we Rotary kids had our fair share of bus rides. The worst was an extended climb through the mountains from the Uyuni Salt Flats to Potosí. It was uncomfortable for various reasons. Physically, none of us were in the best shape (understatement of the century!) Environmental factors, such as the insanely high altitude, did little to help this. Then we had to somehow control our tempers in front of complete strangers. Finally, all of this was taking place between the hours of about three in the afternoon, and three in the morning. All of this made for an unfortunately unforgettable bus ride.
We boarded the bus in Uyuni with relatively high spirits. We had spent the day on the Uyuni Salt Flats, an adventure I’ll never forget. Sadly, our high maturity levels don’t always equal high levels of common sense. Half of us got on that bus with terrible sunburns. Our arms were burned. Our faces were burned. Our necks and backs and hands were burned. Anyone who has ever forgotten their sunscreen knows that when the sun cooks you pink, all you want is an ibuprofen, and plenty of lotion. The later the night got however, the more we had to the layer the woolens over our fried skin, creating an uncomfortable cocoon over baked caterpillars. I managed a kind of sick gratitude to my feverish skin. The excess heat helped me stay warm on the unheated bus. Temperature wasn’t the only physical problem we faced however. Our destination, Potosí, is the highest city in the world, with an elevation of 13,350 feet. Despite the altitude pills, some of us had some pretty bad reactions to the heights. I had a persistent stomach ache, but that wasn’t the worst of it.
Possibly the worst part was that we weren’t alone on the bus. First, there were the rather vocal Argentinean backpackers. These women probably had the short end of the deal, having to ride with fifteen unhappy teenagers through the middle of the night. Even so, their sporadic exclamations did not help the experience for anyone. The hitchhikers annoyed merely by their presence. I feel terrible about this, and know that I ought to be more understanding. It was difficult to be understanding at one in the morning when my friend was pushed into my side by a woman sitting on her arm rest. There was another lady using my duffel bag as a seat in the aisle. Thankfully nothing broke. Farther back, I heard complaints from students whose legs were used as pillows, or who were reluctantly forced to yield corners of blankets to the hitchhikers.
All of this would have been merely another adventure if it followed a reasonable time plan. I can’t even blame our extra five hours on the road on Bolivian travel systems. Our first pit stop pulled us over for several hours. The bus had broken. On the bright side, we still had enough energy then to find a bright side, that meant several hours of unlimited ‘’bathroom’’ use. True, that was just the side of the road, but it made several bladders very happy. After the bus finally clunked to a start again and we had driven for an hour or two, the rains in the mountains slowed us up. The roads weren’t safe, and again we were waiting, freezing.
As we pulled into Potosí five hours behind schedule, I shrugged. It was the only outward expression I had energy enough for, though inside I was jumping up and down and screaming the Hallelujah chorus. I gratefully dumped my duffel, released from its position of hitchhiker seat, and got into the shower. It hurt too much to wash my sunburned face, and my hair was too tangled to work shampoo or conditioner through it, so I dried off and gratefully, and gingerly, climbed under my layers of thick wool blankets. Our guide Shirley had graciously given us the option of skipping breakfast, so long as we were dressed and ready for the next day’s adventure by ten a.m. It, too, involved a bus ride, though not quite so terrible as this one. I don’t think it could’ve been.
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