January 14, 2017 - The Ramada Market

January 14, 2017 - Ramada Market

Bolivia is becoming more and more modern all the time.  If you want to, you can live like someone in North America: malls, fast food, movie theater, good restaurants, nice cars, Starbucks, and air conditioning.  That can be nice, comforting, and secure.

But if you want to experience the real world, you’ve got to leave your comfort zone from time to time.  More than 90% of the world does not live like we do in North America.  Bolivia is no exception.  I would guess that 10% are trying to live the American dream in Bolivia, but for the remaining 90% it is out of the question.  So how does the other nine-tenths live?

Places like the Ramada Market, about six blocks from my apartment, sell just about anything you can imagine.  It is like a giant open-air Wal-Mart.  But it is more than that.  It is a barrio.  A neighborhood.  A community.  At first it seemed strange to me that there would be 25 or 50 little booths side by side selling the exact same thing, and I still don’t quite understand it.  If there is something specific you want, they might ask the neighboring stall or one down the way if they don’t have it.  If someone is away from her stall, the neighbor takes care of the merchandise.

Today on the way home from school, I stopped at the Ramada.  The rotunda at the Second Ring and Avenida Grigota has the statue of the Chiriguano, a fierce Indian.  I always thought to meet this Indian in real life would be terrifying.  On the southeast corner in a small plaza with a Catholic church.  It is not the prettiest plaza in town, but it serves this community well.  Every time I pass it, even at 6:45 in the morning, it is crowded.

All along Avenida Grigota, from the First to the Second Ring is packed with stores and stalls, on either side of the road, selling everything you can imagine. Clothes.  Bicycles. Car parts. Vegetable and fruits.  Cell phones.  Watches.  Hats.  Shoes.  Dishes.  Furniture.  Toys.  Things for the kitchen.  Things to clean your house.  Things you have no use for at all.  And things you desperately need.  Like I said, it is a giant Wal-Mart.  You can eat here too and cheaply.  I saw a sign that said two hamburgers for 3.5 Bs – that is $0.50!

There is no reason to be afraid here.  The majority of the people are poor, some desperately poor.  But a poor stall keeper will give a coin or some fruit to a beggar.  They are kind people.  If you don’t like crowds, you might be freaked out a bit.  It can get crowded and people will touch you by accident.  It is not a place to leave your wallet lose in your back pocket or set your purse down while buying a pair of shoes.  But trust me.  If you are kind, they are kind in return.  People are all desperately seeking to be loved the world over. 

Often in a place like this, when you buy something, they will put something extra in your bag.  I used to do grocery shopping in places like this in the 80s.  When I bought potatoes or onions, they sometimes put a vegetable I did not know or some fruit in my bag.  Would I return to them later?  Of course!  I have heard many others tell similar experiences in the Ramada or another market.

This is a place to see how people live in the real world, not the world of malls and TV.

“If anyone has the worlds’ goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart to him, how does God’s love abide in him?”  1 John 3:17

Link to My Author Page

 

January 13, 2017 - On Being a Writer

January 13, 2017 - On Being a Writer

One of the reasons I came to Bolivia was to write. I know I could just as easily write in Kaufman or Ennis.  A good writer should be able to write anywhere.  Right?  But I felt I needed something more.  A little bit of inspiration.  A little less responsibility.

For years, I have spent part or all of my summers writing, and sometimes even Christmas break, but then the school year would get in the way.  Those who are teachers know what the first weeks of school are like.  There never seems to be enough time.  Even after years of planning, even knowing what you will teach the first days and weeks of school, there never is time.  I often found myself staying late or coming to school on the weekends.  I would say the first month of school I averaged 50 or more hours a week.  I know many teacher friends who do many more hours than that!

That meant anything that I started to write in the summer got put away by mid-August.  Sometimes it would be put away for months even years.

When I arrived in Bolivia, in July, I was working on a novel that was maybe 95% complete and have since published it.  It is the story of the Trojan War, but without the supernatural mess found in Greek mythology.  I love history and I love Greek mythology.  When I was a kid, I devoured every book on Greek mythology I could find.  One day, about 20 years ago, I decided to write down everything I knew about the Trojan War and put it in order as best I could.  I have concentrated on just four characters.  If you read Homer or the ancient writers, one character will be a hero at one moment and a crying baby the next.  There is no consistency of any character.  I have tried to make my characters more consistent; make them believable to a modern audience.

I think I did well on it.  I discovered a recommendation on the book that reads as follows: “I love stories of the Trojan War.  I think this one has the characters right.  Ag (Agamemnon) is less hateful.  The complexities of the huge Trojan family, and an interesting fantasy about Achilles and Helen add some interesting twists that ring true.  I am starting the 2^nd book tonight!”  I loved reading that from someone I don’t know.  It makes me feel like I got Spartan Sisters right.

I have since written a short novel about the Bolivian legend of the Mojon con Cara.  It is a story that I always loved, kind of a Bolivian Romeo and Juliet.  I have also been working on a novel about Onesimus, an obscure biblical character mentioned in the little book of Philemon, a runaway slave in the days of the Roman Empire.  I hope to have this one finished by spring.

There are other ideas that I started in the past.  The Y Club, taken from a dream I had one night.  Remembering Sorrento, a memory of an event on a trip to Italy.  Sobeknefru, about the time of Joseph from Genesis.  And Conquistador, about a secondary character during the conquest of Peru.  These are all novels I have started and one day I want to see finished. 

One of the reasons I came to Bolivia was to write.  I discovered after being there for several months, that I had some good ideas and I could express myself well.  That is my opinion.  A few others have agreed with me.  I must do it, even if it is for a year or two.  It is my life-long dream.

So that is my idea.  What do you think?

Link to My Author Page

 

January 12, 2017 - Banking

January 12, 2017 - Banking

After running all over town, it was right in front of me.  Let me describe my banking ordeal.  I was running low on dollars to change into Bolivianos.  When I lived in Bolivia in the 80s, I would walk to the Central Plaza and write a check at the casa de cambio (money exchange).  So a few days after getting situated in my new home, my plan was to learn how it’s done a quarter of a century later.

A few days before, when I changed some money, I asked the money changers on the corner where was the best place to get cash from a check.  I was told the Casa Aleman.  I went with check and my passport in hand, only to be told they couldn’t do it.  They sent me to the Banco Ganadero around the corner.

The Banco Ganadero was nice and cool, air conditioned.  In the bank, you first must get a ticket.  Then you wait until a monitor shows your number and which teller to speak to.  Mine was called quickly.  The lady was counting thousands of Bolivianos, so she really wasn’t ready for me.  Finally, I could explain my situation.  She said, “Yes, we can do it.”  But she needed to go ask how.  Five minutes later she said she can’t cash a check from out of Bolivia.  But she suggested I check with the Banco Bisi down the road.

So I went to the Banco Bisi and was told the same story.  And then I tried at the Banco Fassil.  They were more helpful.  They said they were just a small branch, but their main office on the other side of town, could help me.  They were also helpful enough to write down directions to the main bank. 

I realized I was running low on cash and needed to change something from dollars.  I have usually used the corner money changers, but today I learned something and will never, ever go back to them.  So here is what happened.  The man showed me the exchange and started counting it out.  I was just changing $100, so I should get 692 Bs. back. He first handed me 500 and let me count it.  I said it was correct.  He took it back and recounted it and gave me the additional 192 in smaller bills.  I then hoped into a taxi to take me to the bank.  Do you see what he did?  When he counted the 500 and gave them back to me, he took out 100.  He stole about $15 dollars from me.  Lesson learned.

The main bank really was on the opposite side of the city from me; a long taxi ride during a busy part of the day.  I was treated well there and sent to a second-floor office, only to be told that I could not cash my check anywhere in Bolivia.  He said I could go to every bank in town and I would not get a check cashed.

I felt like I was stuck.  How would I have money here?

After lunch and a rest, I took my debit card and went looking for an ATM.  There is one next door, literally next door.  I put in my card, had the choice of English, put in my PIN, and presto, I had cash.

And that was less than five minutes from my door.

Lessons learned.

Link to My Author Page

 

January 11, 2017 - Going Out to Eat

January 11, 2017 - Going out to eat

Going out to eat in Bolivia and the United States can be so different from each other.  It is probably one of the easiest examples of how different our cultures are.

In the United States, if you go out to eat with friends or family, say to Chili’s or El Fenix, they will seat you right away.  As you sit, someone is taking your drink order.  A few minutes later they are back and asking to take your meal order.  As an American, you expect to be ordering your meal within five minutes.  A restaurant isn’t good if they make you wait.  After your order is taken, you want it within ten minutes.  Most places will get it to you that quickly.  A meal at an American restaurant, rarely lasts longer than 45 minutes before you pay and leave.  If you stay longer, look around the room and note how many have left while within that period of time.  I noticed that in two lunches with friends and family over the last few weeks.  We stayed longer to chat, but everyone else was gone.

Bolivia is so different!

In Bolivia you go out to eat with your friends, for a good steak dinner, or one of the cool, new  restaurants around town.  They will seat you right away, but it might take ten minutes to get a drink order and a menu.  Once you have a menu, don’t expect the waiter to hurry to your side, he will stay out of the way until you call him.  Once you have placed your order, it is not time to wait hungrily, it is time to enjoy the company of your friends, because they are going to cook your order from scratch.  That might take thirty minutes or even an hour.  When you are finished eating, the waiter will leave you alone until you request the check.  They might take the plates away, but the check waits on your request.  So a normal meal in Bolivia will take two hours. 

Here is the difference between the two places.  In America, we are in a hurry.  If we go to a fast-food restaurant, we expect to be gone in five minutes.  Even when we go to a restaurant and sit down, we want it in a hurry.  Going out to eat with friends in Bolivia is time to spend enjoying those friends, talking, laughing, getting to know them better.  What better way to enjoy friends than to sit around a nice meal and relax?

I’m not going to condemn the way things are done in the United States, because each culture is different, but we can learn from each other.  The next time you go out to eat with some friends or your family, don’t worry about the food or why it is taking so long to get it.  Enjoy the company.  God has blessed you with these people for a reason, so enjoy them (and the food tastes better when you are not stressed about getting it so quickly).

“A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil.”  Ecclesiastes 2:24

Link to My Author Page

 

Janaury 10, 2017 - My New Home

January 10, 2017 - My New Home

Living out of a suitcase is frustrating.  You cannot imagine how good I felt to know my things are out of suitcases and in a real closet.  Yes, I finally found a place to live.  This is one of my most pleasant memories of returning to Bolivia.  On Tuesday, July 5, I moved into my new apartment, a place I still love to this day.

I started looking for places to live in March.  My friend, Carmen, took me to see several places when I came to visit in March and then hooked me up with a real estate agent, named Ximena.  Ximena took me to four or five places in March and got a feel of what I wanted and where I wanted to live.  My first afternoon back, after my exhausting trip here, Ximena took me to a very nice place on the First Ring, near the Cemetery.  It was a beautiful place.  The only thing I did not like about it was that it was on the opposite side of the Plaza from where I wanted to be.

Monday July 4, she took me to see two more places.  I was excited about the first because it was four blocks from the plaza and two blocks from a nice market area, Siete Calles.  But I was quickly disappointed.  The living room had a big pipe in the wall for air conditioning and it could not be removed.  The windows in the living were covered with newspaper because you could see the entire apartment from those windows; so no running around in my underwear there. 

Then she took me to a building near the Plaza Blacut, just two blocks from where I was staying at the New Tribes Mission House on the Plaza Blacut.  I knew the area.  I had been out exploring it for three days and knew it a little from when I lived here in the 80s.  A very nice neighborhood.  When I walked in, I knew immediately that this was my new home.  The electricity was off and we were looking at it with our phone lights, but I could tell it was beautiful. It is not big, just four rooms: kitchen, living, bath, and bedrooms.  But it is what I needed.

Tuesday evening, I met Ximena and Alexandra, the owner of the apartment, at a notary to make it official.  Then we went to the apartment, where I paid and got my keys.  In Bolivia, I pay the first month rent, two months’ rent as a security, and the real estate agent gets the equivalent of a month.  So I paid for four months’ rent and was broke for a bit.

I walked over to the mission house and paid for my five days there.  I took a taxi the five blocks with all my things, threw them in the apartment, and went for food.  I went back to my chicken place, Chicken Kingdom, but brought my food home.  The lights were still off so I ate by computer light. 

When I awoke this morning, my lights were still off.  I had to go to the Plaza to order a Wi-Fi connection, so I decided I would figure it out after I got back.  The deposit and first month of Wi-Fi cost a little less than $100.  When I got back my lights were working and a little while later the Wi-Fi was installed. 

When I wrote this, I was sitting in my living room with all four windows open to the 65 degree breezes and writing you.  Though today, rewriting this blog, I am in Texas and it is 30 degrees outside.  I miss my little apartment, surrounded by a beautiful neighborhood.  A normal day has a nice breeze blowing through my apartment. 

I must add this to my blog.  A few weeks ago, I came home from Bolivia because of a family emergency.  After a week home, I realized I would have to stay in Texas a few months, so I contacted my landlady, Alejandra, to tell her.  She told me to not to worry about my rent; I could take care of it when I return.  Why do I love Bolivia?  People like my landlady telling me not to worry about my rent until I get home.

Luke 10:5 “Whatever house you enter, first say ‘Peace be to this house.’”  Pray that my house would be a house of peace for me and others.

Link to My Author Page

 

Janaury 9, 2017 - Botanical Gardens and Cotoca

January 9, 2017 - Botanical Gardens and Cotoca

A beautiful walk through one of the most beautiful parks in Bolivia, and a visit to an old, traditional town.  This is a memory of one of my early excursions.

I had been wanting to go to the Botanical Garden and Cotoca since I arrived in Bolivia last July.  Debbie and Carlos took me the summer before, but it was a rainy day.  For July 2016, I wanted to return, but it was always cancelled by bad weather or other plans.  Then one day, I woke up to a gorgeous, sunny day, and I had no other plans.  So I called a day of exploration.

Cotoca is about 20 minutes away if there is no traffic.  That is fairly close, but with traffic, and there is always traffic in Santa Cruz, it takes a bit longer.  I don’t think people take taxis there very often.  They either take the bus or a trufi, which is a taxi that fills up with as many people as possible. I took a taxi and luckily had an honest guy.  He seemed excited to give me a tour of little nothings, but it is those nothings that begin to make you feel at home.  He also told me to not pay more than 10 Bs. if I decided to go on to Cotoca from the Botanical Garden.  Good advice.

When I went here in July of 2015 it was wet.  On this day, it was dry.  Many trees lacked leaves, but that gives me a desire to return in a few months as spring begins.  There was a wedding party taking pictures and teenagers snapping selfies with friends.  Those two things seem to be everywhere in the world nowadays.  But most of the time I could walk through the gardens and listen to birds singing.  There were two beautiful blackbirds with yellow tails.  Not much was blooming other than bougainvillea and some yellow trees.  I’ll be back.

From the Botanical Garden, I wasn’t sure how to get to Cotoca, but it was a day of adventure, so that means figure it out as I go.  That is the way to learn how things work and who knows, you might just meat a new friend.  I went to the highway.  Except for trucks, nothing seemed to be on the road, so I was quickly discouraged that I would find a taxi.  I tell myself not to worry so much, because God always seems to work it out.  Not two minutes on the road a car sees me in the distance and flashes its lights, a sign it is a taxi asking if I want a ride.  I waved him down and was quickly off to Cotoca – literally less than a two-minute wait.  Proof to me that God takes care.  There were three other passengers in the car, four if you count a baby, and when I gave the driver a 10, he gave me 5 back.  Five bolivianos is a little less than $1.

I was hungry, so the first thing I did it look for food.  There was a little restaurant on the corner of the plaza and the chicken smelled good.  I said I’d like some chicken and a coke.  I guess I did not know what the old guy running the restaurant said to me, because the next thing I knew I had a plate with literally half a chicken, another full plate of rice, and a third plate of noodles and French fries.  Wow!  The whole time I was eating, knowing I won’t finish half, I was wondering what I would do.  This isn’t the USA where a lot of food is wasted and I didn’t want to carry a doggie bag with me either.  But I decided I would pack it up anyway.  There are always beggars on the street, so I found a lady who held her hand out for a coin; I gave her chicken instead.  She beamed at me.  It felt good especially when her little girl came running over to eat.

Now my hands were free and I could explore Cotoca.  The first thing I noticed was all the sloths in the Plaza seemed to be running away.  Twice I saw one trying to escape and twice a man picked them up and brought them back to the trees in the Plaza.  They let out a little squeal that sounds almost like a laugh when they are picked up.  I was thinking they might be looking for food since the trees were so bare.  One of the men who picked one up told me there are six in the Plaza.  I only counted three.

Cotoca is a town that can be traced back to the late 1700s.  It still retains its colonial charm with the Sanctuary of the Virgen of Cotoca (the Virgin Mary).  There is not much else to see there, except the Plaza.  I decided to go off the main road and look around some side streets.  It felt a lot like the Santa Cruz I knew in the 80s, at least in part.  Even in the 80s Santa Cruz was a large city.  Cotoca is small.  Step a block away from the Plaza and it is quiet.  Life is simpler and less complicated.  If you see people, they smile at you.  An old man waved at me as I passed.  It is life the way it should be.

Without any problem, I found another “group” taxi going back to Santa Cruz.  There was only one other occupant and she got out halfway.  Except for a truck that had turned over on its side, there was nothing noteworthy on my ride home.  I did stop by my bakery to get some sonso for dinner.  Yum!

Link to My Author Page

 

January 8, 2017 - It Feels Normal

January 8, 2017 - It feels Normal

I turned to Becky and asked her what she was feeling.  Her response was what I have been trying to say but didn’t have the words to express.  Simply put, she said, “This feels normal.”

I’m glad to share a memory of my first visits to church in Bolivia, last July.  Like Becky said, it feels normal.

Saturday evening and Sunday morning, on my first weekend back in Bolivia, I went to church.  One of my former students, Debbie, is married to a Bolivian who is pastor of Iglesia Berea.  Debbie was valedictorian the last year I taught in Bolivia.  She went to college only to return to marry her high school sweetheart.  They now have three children, the oldest is in college, the middle will graduate this school year, and the youngest is a high school sophomore.  Debbie works in the Christian Learning Center where I will be working this year.  You know you are old when you work with former students.

They invited me to come on Saturday night because Debbie’s sister, Becky, who I also taught, and her husband and daughter were visiting from Kentucky.  Pastor Percy, Debbie’s husband, always starts service early.  I was there early and had time to visit.  Another friend/former student who is Bolivian came by to see Becky, since they were classmates.  It was a nice time of renewing acquaintances.

When I went upstairs to attend the already started youth group, there were maybe 75 in the middle of a game.  I’m not sure what the rules were, but they were running across the auditorium and put their noses in a chair that had flour in it.  When they had floured their noses, they ran and tagged another who repeated it. 

Then everybody sat down and a song played as a woman and some kids acted out a scene.  I wasn’t quite sure what was happening but later deduced it was a story about a girl who left home, but was restored to her family.  Likewise, we as Christians might leave the arms of God, but when we return, He accepts us with open arms.

Then they started clearing out all the chairs, so I thought it was over.  Ha-ha – It was not over!  All the men and teenaged boys came to the front and the girls stayed at the back.  I’m still not sure of that setup.  By that time about 150 young people were there and a few older people.  Two young men, who I later learned were named Gustavo and Noel, led the worship service.  The best way to describe them is full of energy; two energizer bunnies.  They led one of the most active worship services I have ever seen.  It was at least, a 45-minute worship service.  Nobody left, but people kept coming in.  These kids were singing, dancing, jumping, and smiling.  Like it says in Psalm 30:11, “You have turned my mourning into dancing; You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness.”  These young people were not in mourning, but rejoicing in a life set free as believers in Christ. 

Becky was standing near me during the worship.  I asked her what she was feeling.  Her response is what I have been trying to say but didn’t have the words to express what I wanted to say.  Simply put, she said, “This feels normal.”

About 35 years ago, I went on my first mission outreach to Mexico City with the Godwins to a barrio called Ciudad Azteca.  My first day there I thought I had made a mistake because it was so different.  By my last day there, I knew I was supposed to be a missionary in Latin America, and that’s what I did for most of the 80s.  Then I came home and nothing ever felt just right.  For the last three years, I knew I wanted to return to Latin America and for the last year, Bolivia in particular.  I never knew how to tell why I had to do this.  So here is my answer.  It feels normal.  The things I am hearing, feeling, seeing, smelling, and tasting seem normal to me.  It feels like home.  I don’t love my home in Texas any less, but this feels like my real home.

So let me tell you what I learned about this youth group.  Several years ago, the group was rather small, maybe 25 or 30 on a good youth night.  Someone in the group asked, “How can we get our group to grow.  There are so many lost around us.”  As a group, they committed to praying and fasting for God’s guidance each Thursday.  And bam, a few months later the group started growing.  It has grown so much that they had to split into four groups.  Each group meets at other times during the week, but all meet together on Saturdays for about two hours.  The groups take turns overseeing the weekly teaching.  I’ve taken a picture of all the different meetings this church has during the week.  They have the understanding that the more they meet and keep each other following Jesus, they will grow stronger as a family of believers.  And this is the church I will be attending this year!

On Sunday morning, they have two services, though I am still a bit confused about the times.  The later service starts around 10:00.  The first person I was greeted by was the worship leader, Gustavo, who I described as one of the energizer bunnies.  The entire worship team, maybe 15 people, all have an inexhaustible amount of energy.  I got tired watching them.  Not really.  I felt the joy of around 150 or more people worshipping together. 

Becky’s husband, Daniel, preached.  His sermon was taken from Psalm 8 and Hebrews 10; a call to persevere in our faith.  Daniel said he was not a preacher, but an Iraqi War veteran.  He doesn’t know it, but he is a very skilled preacher.  How lucky his church is to have an ordinary member that can preach so well.

I hope your church service went well on Sunday.  If you didn’t make it for whatever reason, I want you to think of an analogy from Daniel’s sermon.  Imagine your team playing in the Super Bowl (he used the Soccer World Cup, but Americans will relate to the Super Bowl better).  The signal has just been given that it is the last two minutes of the fourth quarter, and your team is ahead by 21 points!  Your team cheers, jumps around a lot, does a few high-fives, and then leaves the field and goes to the locker room.  Who then wins the game?  The other team.

Don’t be like that team and give yourself a high-five and quit.  The game is not over until we get to Heaven.  We each still have a job to do. We cannot let the other team score, or we don’t get the celebration.  The celebration is after the game is played. 

“Let us hold unswervingly to hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

Let’s go play!

Link to My Author Page