Every time I speak to any of my friends, they ask me about the men here. Even my mom asked me the last time, very discreet, if I met some special persons yet. So for all of you nosy friends and relatives, here are some stories about the boys.
First I’ll just give a little overview of what my day looks like. I get out of the house at 8.30 and that is also exactly when the whistling and the name-calling begins: ‘Hola hermosa, linda, chinita’ (I HATE that one) and what more. Now aren’t those exactly insults, but it gets annoying when it is always that same neighbour that is doing that. The Neighbour for heaven’s sake! Can you imagine your 50 year old next door sleeze checking you out every single day and calling you names? In Holland I’d probably have thrown a brick at him long time ago! But… we’re not in the Netherlands now and I’m doing my very best to adjust. So I breathe in deep and just keep on walking, pretending not to hear him. Then I turn around the corner and pretend not to see all the looks from the other side of the street and all the passing men that seem to have no shame at all looking at you up and down. The rest of the day goes pretty similar. The girls and I figured out that it’s mostly men in groups that call you names, and other than in Italy for example, they’re always old, fat and ugly which isn’t flattering at all! Last time even, it got so bad that a taxi driver slowed down, leaned over to open the window on the passenger seat and started to whistle! So this whole thing made me think why it was that women were always put in that role. Also I noticed that all the women here seem to be deaf, as know one ever responds to those comments.
Somewhere last week though, when I had another bad day with some non-functioning appointments, I couldn’t handle the staring and the silent whispers. I mean, you need to take out your anger at someone… So the first guy that past and said something to me made me actually so mad that I stopped and now it was me who stared at him. With the angriest look I could make and a lot of swearwords which I screamed at him (silently in my head), all the way till he turned the corner, looking backwards with a really surprised face. And I know it didn’t help and that he for sure didn’t learn his lesson, but let’s say it was good for my inner peace of that day. Probably, if looks could kill I would have murdered half of Santa Cruz by now, so maybe even better the effect isn’t that big…
Let me end this story with some positive words then. Most of the Bolivian friends that I made here are actually male. They’re the kind of guys that walk you to the bus/taxi so you won’t get mugged on the way and make you call once you’re home. So no bad words about them! There are some good guys here as well…
