Parque Ecoturistico Pairumani

Some friends and myself got together Saturday morning for a day of hiking. Our guidebooks recommended Parque Tunari but Tim and Rick told us that it was a pretty lackluster experience. Sarah suggested a park that she had gone to with her host family outside of Quillacollo, a neighboring city to the west of Cochabamba. We had to take a bus into Quillacollo and then catch another bus up to the park, which took about an hour in total but only cost 4 Bs, about fifty cents. The bottom half of the hike, pictured below, reminded me a lot of the hiking at home, with the abundance of green trees.

I'm not pointing fingers but someone in the group, not Tim, Rick or myself because we were handing back taking pictures, decided that the trail ended and we had to find it again. The solution was to cross an ominous ditch and maneuver under some barbed wire and continue upwards. With every passing house and set of dogs, angry that we were trespassing in their yard, I announced my dis-ease that we had wandered away from the park. I can only assume that it is because of my permanent position as shortest and youngest that my concerns went unvalidated. We finally reached a point that lined us back up with the park, and passing through some more barbed wire, righted our path.

About halfway up the path we caught a view of Cochabamba. It was hard to get a good shot through all the pollution but the little hill right in the center of the picture is the Cristo de la Condordia positioned east of the city. (*see post on Holy Week)

We skirted the mountain on a tiny sidewalk to get to the big payoff, a waterfall. The "waterfall" was less than impressive and I didn't even take a picture of it, but the little stream that led to the "waterfall" was cool enough so we decided to press on, not before stopping to eat lunch first.

I stumbled upon some ancient artwork on the rocks. I can't even begin to guess how old these must be. It was truly impressive, the neolithic man had a real gift for depth and realism.

Derek was in the hiking zone, he was always leading the group and gave good advice on which path to take to avoid having to cross the stream too often. Some people seemed to really enjoy leaping from rock to rock, barely escaping the ice cold bite of the water. Some people, and by some I mean all of them, are at least six inches taller than yours truly and it was a bit more of a struggle for me to find ways across.

Derek made it so far ahead of us at one point that he found time to figure out how to get to the top of this big rock and perch himself like he posing for a magazine.

After about four hours we made it to the spot pictured below and set up camp for a bit. Some people curled up on sun-warmed rocks and took a little nap while others read or just spent some time soaking it all in. After a bit we made our way down the mountain, choosing to descend through the park instead of tromping through the yards of our new friends again. We didn't reach our goal of making it up to the lake, the source of the stream, but I had a great time and look forward to doing it again.

Retreat

Sunrise this morning at our retreat site in Angostura about 20 minutes outside the city. Our Franciscan group got together for the weekend to build community, discuss the future (particularly our ministries), and to just get out of the city. For 15 Bs a night (about $2), I was expecting a shack with lots of critters for company, but the facility was actually very comfortable. I started off the trip on a good note, riding in the bed of the pickup truck to the site because there are nine of us and I am the youngest and shortest. The large lake pictured above is home to many fish and therefore there are many fish restaurants in the area. We went out to eat for two meals, both times I ate tomato and onion salads and some fries. Another weekend in the life of a vegetarian. We brought food and snacks for our in house meals, so I didn't starve.

The retreat was unstructured and very relaxing. We met only a couple times to talk about life after language school and what options are available. It helped to discuss the ministries with more certainty and in a closer time frame. I think that the sooner I start working the better I will feel about my role in Bolivia. The most fulfilling part of the retreat was mass Saturday evening. There was a convenient rock formation outside the building just begging for a service. Yes, that is a piece of sidewalk that was used as the altar. I think I've almost fallen into it's vacant spot downtown a number of times. Instead of the set readings for the weekend, we all presented our favorite verses from the Bible with an explanation of why they mean so much to us. It was nice to see where everybody is on the journey and the different passages that gave them comfort.
The sun is very strong up here but we're heading into winter and once the sun sets it can get a little chilly. The lack of rain provided us with great fire wood. It took a couple attempts and some heckling from me for Rick and Lee to get the fire going but they did a great job of keeping us warm. My favorite part of the night was Rick's method of gathering firewood: grab the biggest log you can find and throw large, heavy rocks (pictured above) on them until they break into smaller pieces.

It was a fun time and spiritually rejuvenating. With the large number of students at the school the lines of community get blurred and I found myself spending more time with some students my own age. It was important to get with my community and strengthen those relationships.

Every day around lunch time we had some visitors in the form of livestock passing through. Ohay no likey cows :-)

Reflections

Many of you have expressed your gratitude at the honesty of my blog entries. If I am being true to you and true to myself then I have to do just that and be honest. I had an incredibly hard week, full of questioning and hopelessness. We attend school behind tall, thick walls that block out as much suffering as possible and we live with upper-middle class families. Despite these conditions the suffering of the people still makes it's way into our minds and hearts. I have been processing this suffering for several days and have not found an easy way to recover. I have been worried that I can't help the Bolivians and that my presence here only serves to reinforce what they are lacking in their lives. I feel that I am just another person exploiting them for my own gain. A gain of feeling better about myself, improving my resume, or any number of the other shadow reasons for mission. I put a lot of focus on return mission. That once I get back to the States I can work towards creating changes in the policies that oppress these people. The question I have been asking myself for about a week is, "if I think that return mission is when the Bolivian people will start to see the positive effects of my time here, then why don't I go home now and start that work as soon as possible?" I think that is enough to incite a little depression in anybody.

The conclusion that I've come to is that I need a bit of re-evaluation on a lot of things. Obviously, I'm not coming home because I'm way too stubborn for that. I thought that I had few expectations coming into mission. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to end poverty in Bolivia and make it so that no child would have to experience starvation or sadness. I did expect, apparently, that I would be able to improve the life of at least one person. Now I realize that it is not about improving someone's life. I can't come into Bolivia and expect to know what people need and what improvement looks like. No, my role is to accompany them, to lend a hand when the load is too heavy and to lend an ear when the suffering is too great. I will never be Bolivian and I will never know the hardships that they face and it wouldn't do anybody any good if I could. All I can do is help them regain the dignity that they've lost and trust that that is enough.

I can't talk about this rather dark period without mentioning the saving power of community. I was in the worst mental state than I have ever been in and it was really scary. I didn't want to admit what I was going through because I was scared of the reality of it but I brought my concerns to my Franciscan community and their insights were invaluable. It was especially important for me to hear that I am not alone in my feelings and that they have dealt with the same issues. Today, I have a much more hopeful outlook on my time in Bolivia and I know that I will continue to battle these negative thoughts but I know that I have the support I need to be successful.

I will leave you with a quote from a great movie...don't laugh...She's Having A Baby

"In the end I realized that I took more than I gave,
that I was trusted more than I trusted,
and that I was loved more than I loved.
And that what I was looking for was not to be found, but to be made"

Holy Week

Bolivia is a Catholic country by tradition and culture but many Bolivians don't attend church regularly. I wondered how this would play into the events surrounding Holy Week but apparently the Bolivians now how to make it happen. On Holy Thursday there is a tradition of families going out in the evening and visiting twelve different churches. The visits are not for mass but there are little prayers that are distributed to follow at each church. We had heard about this at the institute but I was still not prepared for what I saw that night after mass at the Cathedral. We left the church and the sidewalks were completely packed with people, each sidewalk had a different flow and direction. It reminded me of Finding Nemo where Marlin and Dory had to just jump into the current and hold on.

I didn't participate in the tour of the churches because I had to go home and get some rest, for what was coming on Good Friday. I decided to help/tag along with a friend from the institute as he escorted some kids from an orphanage up the highest mountain in Cochabamba for the sunrise Friday morning. We were set to leave from the orphanage at 2am. Quite appropriately, it was cold and rainy and I got lost with the taxi driver trying to find the place for about an hour. Upon arrival it was decided that with the rain it was too dangerous to hike up the mountain so instead we would hike up to the Cristo de la Concordia, a 33m tall statue of Jesus that resides due east of Cochabamba and towers over the city. One of my professors told me that there are 1300 steps leading up to the foot of the statue, that doesn't include the two hour walk we took through the city to get from the orphanage to the steps. I still wonder what the drivers thought as they passed a group of about 20 kids walking down the street at 3am. It was a test of endurance and patience but a really great way to start the day. We made it to the summit before sunrise but the rain and clouds make it a little lackluster.

The group at the foot of the Cristo (continuing my graciousness for those that bring a camera when I don't, thanks to Gray for the pictures):

A view of the lake about mid-way through the descent:

After much resting, a small group of us gathered together for the Stations of the Cross and thus ending my first Good Friday in Bolivia. Saturday was pretty subdued for me because I was pretty much recovering the whole day. There were processions on Friday and Saturday through the city but I was so out of it from the seven hour pilgrimage up to the Cristo that I missed them. From what I hear that are very similar to the Palm Sunday procession we saw on our Jesuit Mission trip. I'm glad that I've got another two years to see them. Some friends and I went to the Easter Vigil mass at the Jesuit church and I was pleased that the normal seven Old Testament readings was shortened to three. It was a good ceremony and afterwards they passed out sweet rolls and wine to everyone with a Feliz Pascua toast and much celebrating. For Bolivians, Holy week culminates with the Good Friday procession and a lot of people don't even go to Easter Sunday mass. I decided to attend mass up at the orphanage with the kids that I had hiked with. I thought that it would be a great way to bring it full circle and celebrate the day. They were very enthusiastic during a kid-appropriate homily given by one of the Maryknoll sisters, it was incredibly cute.

There was no Easter bunny or fancy pastel colored dresses on Sunday morning but the whole experience was really powerful and spiritually uplifting.

Jesuit Missions

We have reached the halfway point of language school and they gifted us with mid-term week long break. It only took me breaking into tears in my last class on Friday for my professor to give me homework for the break in the form of not speaking any Spanish while on vacation. I don't know what some students did but the majority of us partook of the school sponsored (though not paid for) pilgrimage to the Jesuit missions near Santa Cruz, to the east of Cochabamba. It was a five day jaunt to five different missions. For a quick and entertaining history on the missions watch the movie, The Mission with Jeremy Irons and Robert DeNiro. For a more in depth history read The Lost Paradise by Philip Caraman. For a just-tell-me history: in the 1700's the Jesuits set up communities in South America modeled after Thomas More's Utopia and they were incredibly successful at creating peaceful and productive pueblos that educated and empowered the natives. Unfortunately, the King of Spain was none to pleased with their influence and his lack of control over so he expelled them from the area less than a century after the missions were started. Thanks to the Franciscans, the missions have been restored and preserved. On our trip we got to hear three different children's choirs singing baroque-style music that has been recovered in the churches, and the instruments were handmade using the techniques that were taught by the Jesuits. Below are two pictures from the interiors of two different churches. The first is a sample of the artwork that covers the walls and ceilings of the churches.

This is the view from the back of a different church. This one was completely renovated with new techniques and very little remains of the original style. It was a beautiful church but I preferred the ones that were maintained more to their original glory.


I think my favorite part of the trip was the Palm Sunday procession. This structure below is home to Jesus on his donkey. On Palm Sunday people line the streets with their palm offerings. They were beautifully, and creatively woven to make all sorts of designs. The best one I saw was palms woven into the shape of a sheep. The Bishop of the diocese presided over the procession and mass. Everyone in the town walked the path to the church.

It was really touching to see everyone participating in this tradition and the church was completely packed with people. They were standing in the aisles and looking in through the windows. I wish that I could bottle the spirit of the people and bring it back to the States. I also liked that our group was scattered throughout the procession but I had no problem spotting everyone. It wasn't until that day that I realized how much we stick out. It was a great trip and a really good way to kick off Holy Week Bolivian style.

Saint Patrick's Day

So I know that it was like four weeks ago but, better late than never. The four Irish priests in our basic course really went all out to celebrate the feast day of their patron saint. We helped to decorate the main hall in as much green, white, and orange as we could find. As you remember, St. Patty's Day was on a Saturday but we went ahead and held vigilant festivities on Friday. During the coffee break at 11:30 am, Derek (dressed below in a strange dragon Irish hat and draped in a flag) and Ginny served Irish coffees and Bailey's Irish creme. The whole building smelled of whiskey for the entire afternoon. Also pictured below are Rick, in gray, and Tim, in green.After the classes and open forum lecture there was a social hour. I went ahead and made some green jello (of the regular, not shooter variety) for the occasion and dressed it up in a shamrock fashion. There was also cake, cookies, and other snacks, and of course more Jameson's Irish whiskey.

With the whiskey flowing, dancing could only ensue. The priests taught us a few Irish line dances that were a lot of fun but definitely worked up a sweat. Many of the professors came for the occasion and it was great to see them up there dancing as well. Speaking of dancing, you might notice the white sheet in the background. That sheet was used to project Riverdance on the wall the whole day. That's a lot of Riverdance.

The party continued at Derek's house after the social hour at the institute. His host family has a great karaoke set up. There was much singing and dancing into the wee hours of the morning. Below is a rendition of "Losing My Religion" by REM. Michael, Father Thomas, Gray, Father Derek, and Tim lending their voices for the performance. Ginny and Jean were compelled to kneel and raise their matches of fire in praise.

A truly memorable day and a lot of fun. It will be hard to go back to Saint Patrick's Day without the Irish.