He smiled down at her. She laughed and kissed him. ‘’Does this mean we can change our Facebook status to ‘’In a Relationship?’’ he asked.
‘’Maybe,’’ she said.
This true conversation was recently held between a friend and her boy toy after weeks of being, as our favorite internet site calls it, ‘’In an Open Relationship.’’ Ten years ago if someone mentioned Facebook, one would think to look for it under the author’s last name in the local library. Five years ago the ideal pickup line was still, ‘’’Can I have your number?’’ not ‘’Can I add you on Facebook?’’ Now however, relationships are made and broken all on ‘’Face.’’
Facebook’s home page presents you with updates on your friends. You are immediately made aware if anyone has uploaded photos, written a note, or, of course, changed their relationship status. Due to the rapid speed of internet nowadays, a certain level of trust must be put in our fellow users to tell the truth. It’s a world where a tidbit of information can be copied, pasted, and sent to hundreds in under five seconds. Hence, whatever is put up had better be accurate, or the whole world will be confused. I learned this the hard way.
Last summer, as a joke only, a good male friend and I announced on Facebook that we were ‘’In a Relationship.’’ We were curious as to what would happen, and the results more than satisfied. In less than twenty-four hours, I had received several public messages on my ‘’wall’’ and a few other private messages in my inbox. The comments varied from shock to congratulations. There was one, from my boss no less, asking who the heck the boy was. Oh how I laughed! My friend and I kept up the charade for several days by writing ridiculously sappy posts on each others’ ‘’wall.’’ We mutually ended the relationship after friends began to wander into our places of employment to beg for romantic details. I was also questioned by several church leaders; obviously things had gone too far.
For me, it was a relief to discover that my new Bolivian friends also used Facebook. I’ve been able to keep up on school events and parties through mass messages sent to all of the girls in my grade. I’ve also been able, through Facebook Chat, to improve my Spanish on some occasions, and improve my chat-speech on others. (This is not necessarily a good thing.) But that aside, do they keep the Facebook trust on the Relationship Status better than we do? I interviewed a couple classmates to find out.
Q: Would you ever change your status if your real-life status had not changed?
A1: Probably not. Are you out of your mind?
A2: No, I don’t like to lie.
Those were the words of two fairly average Cruceña school girls, aged sixteen and seventeen. Now for one of my male classmates:
Q: Would you ever change your status on Face if it hadn’t really changed?
A: Maybe. As a joke.
Q: How long do you have to be with a girl to change your status?
A: I dunno. A month?
The Facebook trust appears to be intact in Bolivia, much more so that it is in the States. Here at least, the kids I know don’t marry their ninth grade drama partner like we’re so fond of doing at home, gender preferences being forgotten.
All in all, Facebook is a great thing. It’s like a constantly updated billboard on all our lives, and for most information that’s great. We love to share. For those of us who don’t, we hide our status, then no one knows, and we’re just a little bit mysterious.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
*Pit Stops*
The following is an excerpt from my pretty little blue journal, regarding a recent trip to Sucre. Let me warn you now, it does mention bathrooms and their contents rather frequently. A ''rebound'' exchange student once told me that exchange students become very comfortable talking about any bodily functions in public. This is the proof of it.
We made it! After an eighteen tour bus ride we are here in Sucre, fairly alone and on our own. The freedom is exciting, invigorating, and a tad bit scary. I love it.
The bus ride wasn’t half bad either. Part of this was because of the incredibly positive moods of both Sarah and I. We boarded our semi-cama, con DVD y baño flota* to discover that it lacked the baño. Even so, chairs that reclined and a TV present were good signs.
We talked for the first four hours or so of the trip. Sarah had provided dinner: two tuna sandwiches and a bag of gummy Lifesavers. There was also a two liter bottle of Mineragua, but we only allowed ourselves a few swallows each, not knowing the bathroom situation.
That turned out to be very wise, seeing as said situation was fairly awful.
About three hours into the trip we pulled into Samaipata for a dinner and bathroom break. Already having a delicious tuna sandwich in my stomach, I skipped dinner, but did go to the bathroom. It was terrible. The toilets didn’t flush for one. Also, the ladies in line kept yelling for all to hurry up. Believe me; I was not trying to extend my stay in that stall. The men had it easier; they had a room with a long trough—communal urinal? There was a sink for hand washing, but back on the bus I dug out my hand sanitizer. It’s impossible to feel truly clean after using a roadside bathroom in Bolivia, though that may be true for all roadside bathrooms.
Back on the road, exhaustion took over. I would’ve fallen asleep immediately, but the TV was set up and soon Marley and Me (in Spanish of course) was playing. The noises of the road drowned out almost all dialogue, but I had seen it a couple months before at the cine with Mary so could guess at most of the lines. Unfortunately, several large road bumps made the DVD skip to the point where it didn’t work anymore. A man came out of the front of the bus and fiddled with the DVD player. When he was done, Marley and Me had been replaced with Good Luck Chuck and a viler and more disgusting film I have never seen. I learned rather quickly to turn my head away from the many, many sex scenes. I’m glad I couldn’t hear the dialogue. Thankfully, around eleven o’clock the TV screen abruptly went dark.
After that, Sarah and I switched iPods, then drifted in and out of sleep for hours. In my completely irrational mostly-asleep brain, I thought the woman across from me was trying to steal my camera. She kept leaning down towards the aisle, probably to do something completely normal, like adjust her shoe. I thought she was reaching for my backpack, so first I picked it up to make sure my camera was still there, then hooked my leg through its strap and fell asleep again.
Around one in the morning we stopped for another bathroom break. I left Sarah with the gear and walked outside. I followed the line of fellow bus passengers around the corner to an empty road. They all proceeded to squat in the grass. I looked for a spot, and upon finding one, changed my mind. I hate squatting. What if I were to miss and hit my jeans or shoes?. I didn’t really need to go. I got back on the bus and resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be anywhere near a real toilet for at least another five hours.
I fell back asleep, and actually slept for several hours before waking to find us in mountains very different from the ones we had left. The road was white; the cliff walls were white with layers that implied depth of…something. The trees and bushes (they’re practically the same thing) were white with softer lines. I nudged Sarah awake. She looked at me bleary-eyed. I said, ‘’Sarah, look outside!’’
‘’What?’’
‘’It’s white and fluffy. What’s white and fluffy and lives in the mountains?’’ She stared at me. I answered my own question. ‘’Snow.’’
She looked outside, said, ‘’Oh, snow,’’ and fell back asleep.
I stayed awake, watching the snow until it abruptly disappeared. I blinked, and squinted, and stared, but the snow didn’t reappear. I now blame it on lights on the rocks and sleep in my eyes.
Well, I finally slept until the next bathroom break—was it at five or six am? I didn’t bother getting off then because I doubted the existence of a toilet, or even a hole in the ground (not being time to dig my own.) We slept more, though Sarah was woken by the girl sitting behind her, pounding her headrest and repeating, ‘’Choquita, choquita.*’’ So much for a please!
We finally arrived in Sucre at eleven am. I guarded the bag while Sarah used the bathroom, then she guarded so I could go. It wass so wonderful. Haha, eighteen hours with only one bathroom break. I felt much better afterwards.
*Some phrases just don't work as well in English as Spanish, but for those of you who don't speak both, here are some explanations:
semi-cama, con DVD y baño flota: semi-bed, with DVD and bathroom bus
Choquita: blondie. I'm fairly sure the word ''choco(a)'' comes from the verb ''chocar''--to crash. A choco(a) is a person with light, or blonde hair. That makes it sort of a dumb-blonde nickname, though is often used affectionately.
We made it! After an eighteen tour bus ride we are here in Sucre, fairly alone and on our own. The freedom is exciting, invigorating, and a tad bit scary. I love it.
The bus ride wasn’t half bad either. Part of this was because of the incredibly positive moods of both Sarah and I. We boarded our semi-cama, con DVD y baño flota* to discover that it lacked the baño. Even so, chairs that reclined and a TV present were good signs.
We talked for the first four hours or so of the trip. Sarah had provided dinner: two tuna sandwiches and a bag of gummy Lifesavers. There was also a two liter bottle of Mineragua, but we only allowed ourselves a few swallows each, not knowing the bathroom situation.
That turned out to be very wise, seeing as said situation was fairly awful.
About three hours into the trip we pulled into Samaipata for a dinner and bathroom break. Already having a delicious tuna sandwich in my stomach, I skipped dinner, but did go to the bathroom. It was terrible. The toilets didn’t flush for one. Also, the ladies in line kept yelling for all to hurry up. Believe me; I was not trying to extend my stay in that stall. The men had it easier; they had a room with a long trough—communal urinal? There was a sink for hand washing, but back on the bus I dug out my hand sanitizer. It’s impossible to feel truly clean after using a roadside bathroom in Bolivia, though that may be true for all roadside bathrooms.
Back on the road, exhaustion took over. I would’ve fallen asleep immediately, but the TV was set up and soon Marley and Me (in Spanish of course) was playing. The noises of the road drowned out almost all dialogue, but I had seen it a couple months before at the cine with Mary so could guess at most of the lines. Unfortunately, several large road bumps made the DVD skip to the point where it didn’t work anymore. A man came out of the front of the bus and fiddled with the DVD player. When he was done, Marley and Me had been replaced with Good Luck Chuck and a viler and more disgusting film I have never seen. I learned rather quickly to turn my head away from the many, many sex scenes. I’m glad I couldn’t hear the dialogue. Thankfully, around eleven o’clock the TV screen abruptly went dark.
After that, Sarah and I switched iPods, then drifted in and out of sleep for hours. In my completely irrational mostly-asleep brain, I thought the woman across from me was trying to steal my camera. She kept leaning down towards the aisle, probably to do something completely normal, like adjust her shoe. I thought she was reaching for my backpack, so first I picked it up to make sure my camera was still there, then hooked my leg through its strap and fell asleep again.
Around one in the morning we stopped for another bathroom break. I left Sarah with the gear and walked outside. I followed the line of fellow bus passengers around the corner to an empty road. They all proceeded to squat in the grass. I looked for a spot, and upon finding one, changed my mind. I hate squatting. What if I were to miss and hit my jeans or shoes?. I didn’t really need to go. I got back on the bus and resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be anywhere near a real toilet for at least another five hours.
I fell back asleep, and actually slept for several hours before waking to find us in mountains very different from the ones we had left. The road was white; the cliff walls were white with layers that implied depth of…something. The trees and bushes (they’re practically the same thing) were white with softer lines. I nudged Sarah awake. She looked at me bleary-eyed. I said, ‘’Sarah, look outside!’’
‘’What?’’
‘’It’s white and fluffy. What’s white and fluffy and lives in the mountains?’’ She stared at me. I answered my own question. ‘’Snow.’’
She looked outside, said, ‘’Oh, snow,’’ and fell back asleep.
I stayed awake, watching the snow until it abruptly disappeared. I blinked, and squinted, and stared, but the snow didn’t reappear. I now blame it on lights on the rocks and sleep in my eyes.
Well, I finally slept until the next bathroom break—was it at five or six am? I didn’t bother getting off then because I doubted the existence of a toilet, or even a hole in the ground (not being time to dig my own.) We slept more, though Sarah was woken by the girl sitting behind her, pounding her headrest and repeating, ‘’Choquita, choquita.*’’ So much for a please!
We finally arrived in Sucre at eleven am. I guarded the bag while Sarah used the bathroom, then she guarded so I could go. It wass so wonderful. Haha, eighteen hours with only one bathroom break. I felt much better afterwards.
*Some phrases just don't work as well in English as Spanish, but for those of you who don't speak both, here are some explanations:
semi-cama, con DVD y baño flota: semi-bed, with DVD and bathroom bus
Choquita: blondie. I'm fairly sure the word ''choco(a)'' comes from the verb ''chocar''--to crash. A choco(a) is a person with light, or blonde hair. That makes it sort of a dumb-blonde nickname, though is often used affectionately.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
*Attitude: Finding My Happy*
‘’Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.’’ I’m going to risk stepping on a few toes by disagreeing with the great Winston Churchill. Attitude is not a little thing; it’s gigantic. It’s the difference between a sunburn, an over-zealously ‘’healthy’’ glow, and a slightly painful lesson. It’s the difference between a boring night stuck at home and a night at home spent catching up on journal entries while munching popcorn. It’s the difference between me last week and me today. It will give my father no end of pleasure to read that statement. I hate admitting it, but his lecture two days ago brought me down to Earth. I wasn’t happy at the time, and at first his little speech made things worse. When he was done, I hung up the phone and cried. I cried for at least a good five minutes. I felt awful, but I washed my face, blew my nose, and got ready for a birthday party I was going to. I pasted on that smile I’ve gotten pretty good at using in times of distress and went to the party, where I gradually cheered up. That was Thursday. Let’s now look at Friday.
I was going to a pool party, and was to meet everyone involved at eight a.m. Despite the previous late night, I dragged myself out of bed, packed a suit and towel, and made it to our meeting spot by 8:05. No one was there, so I walked around the block, enjoying the sunshine. Ten minutes later people began to arrive, but a few quick phone calls verified that not everyone even remembered the activity, so our little group of five set off to drag four more people out of their houses. We walked a great deal, and then crammed onto a sweaty, dirty micro to get to the pool place. None of this bothered me however. My attitude had done a one-eighty since the day before. I played soccer with those kids. I hate soccer, normally, but here I was banging my shins and stubbing my toes in an attempt to get the half-flat ball to our goal. I enjoyed it. Ella Wheeler Wilcox was entirely correct in her statement, ‘’Say you are well, or all is well with you, And God shall hear your words and make them true.’’ My cheerfulness may have started with a fake smile, but somehow in the course of Thursday afternoon it grew into the genuine thing, giving me a beautiful Friday. My host mother said I was ‘’flying’’ in reference to my sunburn and forgotten tennis shoes, but really, my spirit was soaring alongside my head in the clouds.
This is not to say a sunny attitude will automatically evaporate the clouds and plant daisies at your feet. Unfair rules will most likely remain unfair. The underdog might not win. Yesterday’s sunburn will still chafe under any clothes you force upon it. You can really only ask so much of a person. After a point, being human, we snap back. We’re not saints, and our lives aren’t always beautiful, but I’ve learned that we can make things better by how we think, no matter how difficult and painful it might be. It’s like Annette Goodheart said:
’’Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you can't enjoy your life.’’ Life may still be awful, but you can still find humor and the occasional moment of fun in it.
I’m happy today. I’ve been happy all day today. I was happy putting aloe on my poor red back and shoulders. I was happy talking to my family. I was happy going to the store, and happy watching Friends and happy writing this blog. It’s cliché, I know, but I decided to be better on Thursday. I decided that I was going to try harder to be happy, and if I still wasn’t I’d blame my father. Instead, I became happy, and now have to thank him for his awful therapeutic speech that left me with the desire to change. I’ve found my happy. Go find yours. If that’s out of the question, consider changing your attitude, even just to spite me. Maybe you’ll find your happy.
I was going to a pool party, and was to meet everyone involved at eight a.m. Despite the previous late night, I dragged myself out of bed, packed a suit and towel, and made it to our meeting spot by 8:05. No one was there, so I walked around the block, enjoying the sunshine. Ten minutes later people began to arrive, but a few quick phone calls verified that not everyone even remembered the activity, so our little group of five set off to drag four more people out of their houses. We walked a great deal, and then crammed onto a sweaty, dirty micro to get to the pool place. None of this bothered me however. My attitude had done a one-eighty since the day before. I played soccer with those kids. I hate soccer, normally, but here I was banging my shins and stubbing my toes in an attempt to get the half-flat ball to our goal. I enjoyed it. Ella Wheeler Wilcox was entirely correct in her statement, ‘’Say you are well, or all is well with you, And God shall hear your words and make them true.’’ My cheerfulness may have started with a fake smile, but somehow in the course of Thursday afternoon it grew into the genuine thing, giving me a beautiful Friday. My host mother said I was ‘’flying’’ in reference to my sunburn and forgotten tennis shoes, but really, my spirit was soaring alongside my head in the clouds.
This is not to say a sunny attitude will automatically evaporate the clouds and plant daisies at your feet. Unfair rules will most likely remain unfair. The underdog might not win. Yesterday’s sunburn will still chafe under any clothes you force upon it. You can really only ask so much of a person. After a point, being human, we snap back. We’re not saints, and our lives aren’t always beautiful, but I’ve learned that we can make things better by how we think, no matter how difficult and painful it might be. It’s like Annette Goodheart said:
’’Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you can't enjoy your life.’’ Life may still be awful, but you can still find humor and the occasional moment of fun in it.
I’m happy today. I’ve been happy all day today. I was happy putting aloe on my poor red back and shoulders. I was happy talking to my family. I was happy going to the store, and happy watching Friends and happy writing this blog. It’s cliché, I know, but I decided to be better on Thursday. I decided that I was going to try harder to be happy, and if I still wasn’t I’d blame my father. Instead, I became happy, and now have to thank him for his awful therapeutic speech that left me with the desire to change. I’ve found my happy. Go find yours. If that’s out of the question, consider changing your attitude, even just to spite me. Maybe you’ll find your happy.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
*The Zoo!*
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.
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.
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
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