Day 130 - Mariposas y Estrellas

Mariposas y Estrellas

Above the highway hovered what at first I thought were falling green leaves.  But as we got closer, I discovered it was a swarm of pale green butterflies, welcoming me to the lush mountain forests of Eastern Bolivia.

Borrowed photo, since we were driving too fast

Friday, October 28, I headed out again as soon as school was out.  Thursday, I told Mariela that I wanted to visit her house in Samaipata again.  I was thinking closer to mid-November, but she gave me the keys.  In my box, at school, before I left was a note that said “relax, sleep, breathe, restore, and be inspired.” 

At noon, I found a trufi, a group taxi, heading to Samaipata.  It costs about $4 for a 2 ½ hour trip.  In Santa Cruz, it was getting hot.  I ate a snack in the car and drank some cold water, but the heat put me to sleep.  I slept until Angostura.

When I awoke, we had passed the flat lands and straight road out of Santa Cruz.  We were now in the foothills of the Andes Mountains.  The roads twisting and turning between hills and overflowing with lush vegetation.  A river was along out left.  At times the road was well-paved.  At other times, it was bumpy or filled with potholes.  There are even stretches with no pavement at all.  A sign says, “geologically unstable,” That makes you comfortable. 

That is when I noticed them.  Butterflies.  They were everywhere.  Yellows and whites alone or in pairs.  Glimpses of reds and greens.  There was what at first I thought were falling leaves, but it was a swarm of about 100 pale green butterflies, hovering over the highway.  I was feeling welcomed to the mountains.

Soon there were landmarks I recognized from my visit a month before.  A colorful house graced with peacocks.  The waterfalls by the road.  A house that looks like a lighthouse.  We had made it to Samaipata.

I found Fernando and Mariela’s house with no problem.  I changed clothes, because it was cooler than Santa Cruz.  I went looking for food and found some nice spaghetti at the 1900 Restaurant.  I shared part of it with a stray dog.  The owners thought he was mine.  When I said he wasn’t, they brought out a plate of food for him.  I like this place.

Life is quiet here.  You can walk down the middle of the street, something that would get you killed in Santa Cruz.  There are about as many cars as motorcycles, but there are just not that many.

 

After dark, I walk a road on the edge of town up a mountain.  It is dark except for an occasional street lamp.  I am looking for the Milky Way.  I can see it, but it is dim.  I can barely see the road at my feet, so I decide to head home.  Getting close to the house, I notice that the sky seems extraordinarily clear.  I go into the house and turn off all the lights.  Standing in the middle of the garden, I clearly see the Milky Way, a white swath of stars across the sky. 

Why did god create that expanse of universe above my head?  He tells the number of stars and call each by name.  Thank you, God, for the butterflies and stars.

I couldn't capture it on my phone,

so I borrowed a photo for you to see how beautiful it really is

Day 129 - Legend of Bibosi and Motacú

Legend of Bibosi and Motacú

One thing I learned living in Bolivia in the 1980s was the value of friendship.  The friends I made here are friends for life.  Or as several of my Bolivian friends said, we are family.  They have become my comfort zone.  In a matter of days once I returned here, I made a new batch of friends, and I know they also will be friends for life. 

Several learned that I was posting a blog and a lot of pictures about Bolivia.  They recognized that I love Bolivia and want to share the beauty of their land to my friends in the States.  Now they send me messages, such as “did you know this about the Cristo statue,” or “did you know manzana can be apple or city block?”  Some have sent me links to research things a little more. Two have given me books they thought might help.

I was not sure how I would write five blogs a week.  My life isn’t that exciting.  But I have wanted to share with you the beauty of this culture.  My friends are giving me so many ideas that I am about three weeks ahead on blogs and have many more ideas to research.

The idea for today’s blog was given to me by my new friend, Matilde.

The motacú is a palm tree found in the tropical lowlands of Santa Cruz.  Often when you see one it will be entwined by bibosi, a vine that is a member of the fig family of trees.  The bibosi will wrap itself around the motacú, creating strong roots, and oftentimes killing the host tree.

The legend goes something like this.  A beautiful girl, Motacú, was in love with a handsome young man, named Bibosi.  The two could be seen everywhere together, because they loved each other more than life.

The girl’s parents did not feel the same about the romance, so they looked for a young man who was more “appropriate” for their daughter.  The parents refused to allow Bibosi to court her any more.  Reluctantly she relented, but with many tears.

Motacú told her love, Bibosi, about her parents plans and began to cry on his shoulder. He hugged her as he comforted her.  Jealous of the man her parents had selected for their daughter, he refused to let go.  He hugged her so tightly, that they died there on the spot, their arms intertwined in love.

The bibosi tree, like the young man, intertwines itself around the motacú palm, like the girl, eventually killing the palm.

Yes, that is how intense the love is here in Santa Cruz. 

The other day I was in a lovely garden in El Torno.  I saw a tree intertwined just like I heard of in the legend.  A gardener was nearby, so I asked him,

"Sir, is this a bibosi and motacú?"

"Yes, it is," he answered.  "You will never find a more amorous pair of trees."

I love his answer. 

From BoliviaBella.com and my friend Matilde.

Day 128 - Back to Immigration

8

Back to Immigration

My welcome back from Tarija was a visit to Immigration.

My immigration lawyer is only a few blocks from my house.  He said to be there early, which I thought was 7:00, but they weren’t there at 7:00, so I went looking for food.  I am glad I did, because I had no idea what this morning would hold.

Dr. Z. and his wife arrived at 8:00.  I thought they would accompany me, but this time I was on my own.  I was put in a taxi and driven to SEGIP headquarters on the north side of town.  SEGIP stands for Seguridad General de Identidad Personal (General Security of Personal Identity).

I go to the second floor.  There are no signs about what to do.  There are about 20 people seated near the door looking at me strangely.  The desk at the door is not occupied, but is shortly.  He tells me to take a seat.  

A few minutes later he is fussing at all of us seated there.  We are supposed to be in a line, though there are four rows.  One person moves, and everyone else moves, zigzagging their way to the front. It seems to work, except there are people who break in line, or go to his desk insisting to be waited upon.  A young blonde girl does this and gives a dirty look to everyone seated and waiting.  He makes her sit, which makes her angry.

I get to his desk and he is polite and helpful.  He stamps papers, unstaples a few, and staples them back.  Finally, he hands me some papers and says I have to wait to get my picture taken on the other side of the room.  He says I can come back at 11:00 because they won’t get to me before then.  It is 8:50. The room is not so crowded, so I decide to take my chance.

I could have gone to the zoo!  It was close.  There are three clerks taking care of the pictures.  After an hour, I start timing them.  It takes about 20 minutes per person.  As usual, people try to break in line.  That same blonde girl comes in, after being gone for an hour, and demands to be taken care of next.  The man she made the demand to calmly told her to sit down, be quiet, wait her turn, or she would have to start all over tomorrow.

Around 11:00 the people I was sitting with at the start were being waited on.  I was feeling like I would get out before lunch.  Surprise visit from a family from Japan.  They invaded all three desks and just kept insisting they did not speak Spanish.  The three clerks stopped what they were doing and waited on them.  That took almost 45 minutes.

It was 12:15 when my name was called.  I am asked a few questions, not the least if I am related to Harry Potter.  I am fingerprinted and my picture is taken.  My 20 minutes with the clerk passed and I was finished.  I was given a card that said to return on Monday the 31^st.

As I was leaving, I noticed that the little blonde girl had still not been waited on and now there were very few people left.  She scowled at me, as if I had broken in line.  Oh well, we won’t be going out for dinner, I assume.

After all that, I went back a week later, on October 31.  This time I was supposed to pick up my identity card.  I was prepared with food and something to read.  Yet this time, I was there just 15 minutes.  Go figure!

Day 125 - At the Casa de Anciano

At the Casa de Anciano

This week at the Learning Center we are having a Spiritual Emphasis week.  Our focus is on the persecuted church.  In North America, we can worship with relative ease, but in much of the world that is not the case. 

Today was Servant Day. The plan was for our students to go to various localities and work on community projects, such as cleaning or painting.  My group was supposed to stay at the Learning Center and sweep, pull weeds, and move a pile of dirt. It poured rain last night and the rain continued today, which meant the pile of dirt was a pile of mud.  So the plans for my group changed at the last minute.

A small group was going to a home for the elderly in El Torno, a town about 45 minutes west of Santa Cruz.  My group piled in the back of a mini-bus and joined them.  Around 9:30 we arrived at a tropical garden, where the Casa de Anciano is located.

We entered a very large clean place, where about 40 or more elderly were gathered.  Some were making crafts, or playing games.  Others were talking to their friends.  Some waited in line to get their hair cut.  We were introduced to the people and then given a variety of tasks to do.  Some kids were shy, so they lucked out.  The bold ones, who volunteered first, had the opportunity to sit and get to know the people.  I was with a few kids who helped some play a matching game.  The Casa tries to keep their minds occupied and thinking.

The kids were given the challenge to learn the names of the abuelos (grandparents).  Some kids took up the challenge and got to know a few.  I didn’t do that well, but I did talk to two sisters from Oruro.  Later in the morning they played some games to see if the kids had learned their names.

The best part, for me, was when they lined up all the students and gave them one of the abuelos.  The abuelos were given the task of giving the students a tour of the facility.  They have different activities every day, including church on Tuesdays.  Some days they work in the garden, or in carpentry, making crafts, or cooking.  As I said before, the idea is to keep their minds young by keeping them busy.

They have plans to add to the facility, which would include helping troubled teens by teaching them crafts and occupations that could earn them a living.  The abuelos here would do the teaching.  They want to put the two generations together to learn from each other.

As usual in places like this, they loved us and treated us well.  Each student was given a Christmas ornament, created by one of the abuelas.  We were served a delicious lunch.  And we climbed a hill so the kids could play on a slide. 

I think it was a good day.

Day 124 - Sunday in Tarija (Looking for the Blue Church)

Looking for the Blue Church

I was determined this morning to find a blue and white church I had seen from the window of the hotel.  I had to find it!  I decided to not eat at the hotel, and instead look for something to eat on the street.  I go several blocks north and several more west, until I sight it.  Something isn’t right.  Maybe it is not a church.

As I am turning the corner to the blue church, I am distracted by a beautiful plaza.  Yes, another plaza.  This one is about three blocks long and opens with a statue of Simon Bolivar, the liberator of much of South America.  I am planning a blog on him in the near future.  Behind him opens onto a park of tall trees, pines and eucalyptus, with blooming trees on its edges.  At the far end is a fountain. 

As I head back, I see a group of people surrounding a food vendor.  That is always a sign that she makes good food.  I ordered two things, both she called empanadas.  One was filled mostly with potatoes, but she called it a beef empanada (there was a little beef in there).  The other she called a cheese empanada, but it was stuffed with egg.  I also had a fruit drink of some kind.  I’ve seen it before, but never bought it.  I sat in the shade and enjoyed a breakfast that cost me $0.88!  That’s life!

Two blocks later and the blue and white building is standing before me.  It is of a definite Victorian style, with stripes of blue and white.  But it is not a church.  Several friends told me about the building later, so I am going to research it and share more about it one day soon.  It was a center of a literary association, but is also associated with ghost stories.  It looks like a good read.

From there I headed toward the Plaza Principal through a neighborhood that reminded me of the quiet streets of Santa Cruz that I loved from the 1980s.  Flowers flowed over walls.  Dogs barked at passers-by.  Elderly ladies in their finery walked down the street looking as dignified as a president’s wife.  I encounter a church dedicated to Saint Francis, San Francisco.  There are more than a dozen beggars along the path to the church.  I have a pocket full of change, so I get rid of it.

 

At the Plaza Principal, I decide to rest and enjoy the morning.  There is a lady selling corn to feed the pigeons.  She looks so perfect.  An elderly woman dressed as a woman from the mountains would dress.  I don’t buy any corn, but after moving to several different spots to get a picture of her, I decide to ask if I can take her picture.

“Oh, I’m too ugly,” she says.

“No, you are beautiful!”

She scoffs.

“You are the most beautiful thing in this plaza.” She lets me take her picture and accepts the few coins I offer.  I benefitted the most.  I am her friend for life.   I hope she is there when I go back.

I walk a few blocks to the south to a street I was told has three or four different names, so I will just call it the Boulevard.  The Boulevard has a park running through it for miles.  I don’t know how many miles, because I never went the full length of it, but at least five miles.  Today one side was blocked for bicyclists.  My plan was to walk a bit and write a bit.  That kept this old man from getting too tired.

What is there to see in this park?  Blooming purple trees, beds of colorful flowers, and roses.  Tarija could easily be called the city of roses.  They are everywhere.  There is a black and yellow plane hanging over your head.  The Palace of Sports runs parallel for about a mile along the Boulevard, with soccer fields and basketball courts, all filled on this Sunday afternoon.  A display of the flags of the Americas, though none of the flags were up today.  There is a statue that looked like young Gandalf, though my friend, Mariela, said this is the Moto Mendez (someone else I need to research for a future blog). 

I was entertained by a young man who was juggling at the intersection.  He was kinda good, but not really.  He could get the ring spinning around his leg, but then would drop the bowling pins (that’s what they looked like to me).  I gave him a thumb up and it encouraged him.  He got better.  Before I left, I indicated I would tip him.  He ran over to me and seemed happy to get a 10Bs.  I noticed that those who gave him anything would throw coins out the window.  He dodged cars to get his coins. 

Lunch at the plaza again and I had to pack for home.

Goodbye Tarija.  Until we meet again.

Day 123 - Day of the Dead

Dia de los Muertos

This evening of November 1^st, I found myself wandering around two cemeteries here in Santa Cruz.  Why would I be doing that?  Because I had many questions.  What is the Day of the Dead?  How is it celebrated here in Bolivia?  Why is it so important to the Bolivian people?  And how can I examine it objectively, and describe it to you? 

The Day of the Dead has nothing to do with the American idea of Halloween, though both are closely connected.  Somewhere in the past the United States commercialized it and turned it into some weird monster thing.  It has a very different past.  Halloween is the evening before All Saints Day and originally meant the hallowing, or making holy, in preparation for the upcoming Holy Days that will occur over the next two months.  November 1^st is All Saints Day and November 2^nd is All Souls Day, or more commonly called Day of the Dead.

On the evening of November 1^st families will gather at their family graves.  Don’t think of a traditional American cemetery with its grassy parkland.  Instead think of small houses built in the cemetery where family members are buried.  Sometimes you will find a long wall with niches used for burial.  You can find the same at larger cemeteries in the States, but you will never find the grassy parkland here in Bolivia.

When the families gather at the graves, you find them arriving with brooms and cleaning things.  They will sweep, mop, polish, and make the grave look nice.  They put candles and flowers, and often leave food.  My friend, Sandra, told me today that her grandmother always made a special bread to leave at the grave.  It was not intended to be eaten by the family.  She would also set out water and a candle.  I saw many similar things tonight.  People usually will bring the preferred foods of their loved ones who have passed away.

The Andean indigenous culture of Bolivia has some very particular beliefs centered on this day.  They set a table in three levels; one representing heaven, the second, earth, and the third hell.  They believe it is important to pay homage to their dead because of the idea of reciprocity.  The rainy season starts in just a few weeks.  So, taking care of the dead today, means a good rainy season.  A good rainy season means crops are well-watered and the harvest will be good.  If the harvest is good, people eat well and are happy.

What surprised me most about this evening was the difference in the two cemeteries I visited.  La Cuchilla is a cemetery of the middle class mostly.  They can afford to take care of their dead.  The graves are nice.  They also have a carnival going on outside the cemetery.  There were rides, and games, and food, and lots of fun.  There were lots of booths selling flowers and candles, as well as special foods to leave at the graves.  Children were running around having a good time.  Families were laughing and enjoying the breezy spring evening.

The General Cemetery, located near downtown, is more sedate.  It is where the rich are buried.  The graves are elaborate.  No expense was spared in many of them.  The gardens are beautiful.  There was not a party atmosphere.  No children were running.  You would see a few elderly ladies sitting on a bench in the dark, chatting quietly, probably telling stories about their friend whose grave they were visiting.  When I told someone I was going to the cemetery tonight they responded that is scary.  This was not a frightful place to visit.  I felt no fear at all.

So what is my take on all this?  Family.  Bolivia is about family.  This fits in nicely.  Just because a family member dies and is no longer here, they are not forgotten.  Family is cherished.  It makes me think of how my family still cherishes my grandparents, or my stepfather.  They are always loved. 

Day 122 - Teconté

Teconté

Around the corner from my apartment is a little bakery/restaurant.  I discovered it maybe a two weeks after I moved into my apartment and I return at least once a week, sometimes twice.  I think it is family run, because some of the kids who wait on me look related.  I couldn’t find anything on the internet about this place, but I am sure some of my Santa Cruz people, who read this blog, will tell me some more about it.

Teconté is on Avenida Iralá, just two blocks from my street, Monsenior Santistevant. Iralá is the southern circuit of the First Ring.  So this is a busy street.  From about 6:00 in the morning till after midnight, I can look out of my window and see the street packed with cars.  So they chose a very good location.

I can’t get there in the mornings very often, but the few times I have been able to, there are men and women in suits having coffee and a breakfast bread.  More often I get there around lunch time when it is really busy.  I have been told they serve tea.  A Bolivian tea, or mirienda, is exceptional.  I hope I get to attend one to share it with you.  It is not tea and cookies, but a fantastic afternoon meal. 

If they have it, I buy a sonso.  It is a very basic recipe, grated yucca and cheese baked in the oven.  For something so simple, it is amazingly delicious. 

The aluminum dish contains sonso

They always have cuñapé, which is a baked cheese bread, another simple delicious recipe.  They also have empanadas of at least a dozen types.  My two favorite are the rice empanadas, which is just a rice bread, which I thought at first was corn.  The other is a cheese empanada, which has a light crust that puffs up, lightly stuffed with cheese, and topped with powdered sugar.

Tonight's meal of a chicken breast and two rice empanadas

My usual habit is to buy something to accompany my lunch and also bring something home for breakfast the next morning. I normally spend between $2 and $5.  If I spend more, I might bring two lunches and two breakfasts.  So it is a cheap addition to my meals.

One thing about these guys that impressed me was the morning I did my walk around the First Ring.  I started my walk there.  As I was buying a cheese empanada, the owner came out with a plate with a roll on it and a cup of coffee.  She handed it to a beggar that I regularly see on Avenida Iralá.  He is filthy dirty and looks pitiful.  I think he has mental problems.  She didn’t hand him paper, disposable cup and plate, but the china she uses for customers. 

Proverbs 22:9 says, “The generous will be blessed, for they share their food with the poor.”

Because of this, even if there are places nearby that sell the same thing, I will always be a customer of Teconté.

I forgot to tell you the name means "tea with you."