Day 96 - Viva Santa Cruz

Viva Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz has its own song.  I never forgot it when I went back to the States in 1989.  As my Spanish faded, some of the words faded, but never completely.  Returning in 2016, many of the words have come back. 

Viva santa cruz
bella tierra de mi corazón
Tienes la virtud

y el perfume de la inspiración

En tu cielo azul
las estrellas hablan del amor
Noches de pasión
cuando me enamora Santa Cruz

Cuando me vaya hay amorcito e de partir llorando
Viva Santa Cruz QUE VIVA !!
Viva Santa Cruz QUE VIVA !!
Cuando me vaya hay amorcito e de partir llorando
Viva Santa Cruz QUE VIVA!!
Viva Santa Cruz QUE VIVA!!

A la luz de la luna
yo quiero hablarte con el corazón
Y decirte te amo
dulce cambita flor de Santa Cruz

Long Live Santa Cruz

Long Live Santa Cruz
beautiful land of my heart
You have the virtue
and the perfume of inspiration

In your blue sky
the stars speak of love
Nights of passion
when I love Santa Cruz

When I leave there, I leave crying, my love
Long live Santa Cruz!  Viva!!
Long live Santa Cruz!  Viva!!

When I leave there, I leave crying, my love
Long live Santa Cruz!  Viva!!
Long live Santa Cruz!  Viva!!


To the light of the Moon
I want to talk with the heart
And tell you I love you
Cambita, sweet flower Santa Cruz

Here is a link to the song:
Viva Santa Cruz

A Camba/cambita is someone from Santa Cruz.  There is probably more meaning to that.  Someone who reads this who knows, will most likely tell me.

One of my students asked me the other day if I would like some music to listen to over the weekend.  He sent me this song and several other Bolivian songs.  I told him I loved this song and it was in my heart, though probably never like it was in his, someone with it in his blood.  His response was the Camba is born wherever, but you have already crossed the Pirai (the river here in the city). 

I wrote this blog to let those of you far away from here how much people from Santa Cruz love Santa Cruz, including me.  It enters your heart and won’t go away.  It’s the little things like the food or a favorite street.  It is the big things like the Plaza or a game between Oriente and Blooming.  It is jasmine on a warm night.  It is the friends who are as close as family.  It is coffee and cuñapé for breakfast. 

I am always a Texan, but I am also a Camba.  I can’t separate the two.