Sarah Horton is volunteering in our Media and Arts Project in Bolivia. She gets to spend the whole day surrounded by beautiful art and helps the local staff organize exhibitions and develop their website.
Read about her first two weeks in Santa Cruz, Bolivia:
Della Adams is volunteering with our orphanage project in Bolivia on her second uVolunteer trip. Last year, she volunteered in our orphanage project in Costa Rica and enjoyed it so much that she wanted to do it again; this time in a new country. She is living in a homestay in Santa Cruz and working with the children at the Luz del Mundo orphanage.
Read her weekly updates from the first half of her trip:
Author: Fei An Tjan
35 hours to go before I leave Santa Cruz. For weeks I couldn’t wait to leave and see new things, but now my departure is getting closer every second, I’m starting to feel really sad. Without realising it, I think I became to feel more Camba than I expected…
In those weeks Silvia has been inventing every excuse possible, which would stop me from leaving. From cooking delicious dinners to praying for heavy rainfall, so my bus wouldn’t leave. As for me, I just hoped the receiver of that message was being hearing-impaired…
But however strange it may sound; I know I’m really going to miss Santa Cruz and all the craziness and people that comes with it! Therefore, no eternal goodbye, but just a hasta pronto…
In contrast to the city the museum was quiet this week. Silvia still hadn’t managed to get the Internet-man come over and install everything, which resulted in me and her both working at our own favourite internet places to get everything done in time: she at home, me in Cafe 24 with always way too much good coffee. But we’re almost done. The triptych I made has to be approved by all of the ‘cultural board’ and the museum actually starts looking more and more like an actual museum! But as soon as you leave the museum grounds, it’s done with the quietness…
But even with Sunday approaching and political demonstrations increasing, the city stayed quite calm. Everybody seemed more concerned how he or she would pass the time in the weekend with ‘La Ley seca’. Ley Seca means no alcohol from 00:00 sharp on Saturday (Friday night) till 18:00 Sunday. And as most Bolivians spend their weekend chilling out and drinking, one of the main activities had to be replaced. And wonder above wonder, suddenly Bolivia seemed to obey the timetable for once. At 00:00 Friday night the city was suddenly filled with policemen closing everything down and sending the audience home. But…nothing lasts forever, so on Saturday we saw some sneaky bars and restaurants opening wine bottles and beers again.
The youth found their own way to get around the rules. They just made their own little discotheques, mostly on the streets in Equipetrol, the going out area. The most bizarre cars you can imagine, all lined up, playing all their own favourite music, from Mika to Daddy Yankee with volume stand on MAX. With some imagination you can probably imagine what that must have looked and sound like. The nice thing is, that I was this time one of them. I finally made my first Bolivian girl friend! Veronica invited me to hang out in Equipetrol with her and some other girls (why? I asked) just to drink and watch people and cars. And although I didn’t really see the point of doing that I thought it wouldn’t hurt to immerse myself a bit more in Bolivian culture. So there we stood, leaning against a car with loud music playing on the background, feeling 16 again. Wow, did I feel uncomfortable there, but when I thought about it later, I realised we actually did exactly the same in our own country, only then we would go to a bar and check people out from a comfy terrace seat! Anyhow, also here the party was over soon. The police was clearly prepared for this to happen and people started soon cleaning up their boom boxes at the sight of the green uniforms.
And then it was Sunday again. Kattia and Alvaro organised a little cultural day where we would all cook something from our own country. We invited the Dutchies, and also Veronica came by for a bit to taste all the culinary masterpieces. Afterwards we played some good old game of ‘burro’ (you get a letter each time you drop the ball. Loser = see photo) where classically, someone would end up getting hurt (Renske) and I rediscovered my sports fanaticism. And with sports, there always is a score and surprisingly, Santa Cruz only voted 65% NO! How did that happen? I’m pretty sure the only letters I saw last weeks were N’s and O’s.
It made me realize how misleading situations can be, as if I didn’t know that already, but I get fooled every time again! Secretly in some little corner of Santa Cruz was the other 35% whispering with invisible banners VOTA SÍ…
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…
Author: Fei An Tjan
First of all I’d like to share my happiness with all of you of you that read this: ‘I FOUND BACK MY DIARY!!!’ After a million phone calls to the cinema, where they provided me with another non-existing number every time again, my book was just waiting for me to pick it up at the dance school. Indescribable feeling!!! I can go on about this for a while, but I’m guessing you all get the point now…
Author: Fei An Tjan
Although in my last blog I must have seemed a pretty frustrated volunteer, this week’s blog mostly makes up for that. But as always, there’s good news and there’s bad news…
My week started pretty sweet! I left the Holy Cross for the first time to spend an amazing time in El Parque Amboro where we had the best lunch ever (sandwiches with cheese, oh Holland sweet Holland!). And of course we also saw some true and untouched wildlife, including a little turtle crossing our path. Though the most memorable part of the trip was crossing the river to get into the park. The line of ‘rivercrossers’ existed out of mothers and babies, grannies, tough Bolivians with motorbikes, people with bicycles, horses, carts and us. And all of that (except for the horses) had to fit in one single little canoe-ish boat, pushed forward by a bunch of swimming people. Amazing, but miraculously effective.
Bolivians - Fei An 1-1
Ultimately I’d like to comment on the Bolivian situation for all of you that are worried of coming. All the time I’ve been here the ambiance in the city was, and still is, really very calm. So nothing to be scared of! For some impression take a ride to the cinema and see James Bond’s Quantum of Solace (Just don’t take it too serious).
Tuesday 09:45 - The only place where things go as they’re supposed to go are between the four walls of El Deber. Georgina, my supervisor trusted me with a photo camera and a recorder to - all by myself- interview mr. Osman Arandic for a Christmas special of El Debercito. The appointment was set at 10:00 and at 09.45 sharp, I stepped into the car that would take me to Acri Color, the place where my interviewee owned his art studio. During the ride I was imagining all sorts of doom scenarios that could happen. What if the camera broke down, or the recorder didn’t work, or, in the worst case what if the guy turns out to be a total freak and kidnap me??
But WHAT, if one of those things actually come true?!!
Luckily, it wasn’t the latter but I still couldn’t believe this was happening! The camera really wasn’t functioning at all. We both tried for at least 20 minutes to make the little thing work again, but without any success…
Though in the taxi on my way back to El Deber, without an interview and without photos, the camera suddenly worked again!! The little b*stard! Luckily Georgina wasn’t mad at all, although I think she didn’t really understand my explanation about the camera, and she rescheduled the appointment to the next day. Everything went fine then!
20:00 - I’m waiting for Teresa to pick me up for the dance school… already one hour…
She hasn’t called yet, I can’t reach her either and I’m starting to doubt if we really had an appointment or if I had totally misunderstood her in Spanish. I decided not to wait any longer and went to the city with girls. Half an hour later, Teresa called to apologise and if it was possible to reschedule to tomorrow. Sure… I didn’t have anything better to do anyway (I mean that).
Wednesday 15.00 – At the dance school we agreed on free classes in exchange for lessons. This would be my first day as a salsa teacher and also my first day as an Argentinean tango student. But I waited one hour, two hours.. To eventually hear that there wouldn’t be any classes today. It’s really amazing how bad people can plan here! But then I also realised I wasn’t in Holland and that I should try to take things more relaxed and accept that things aren’t as strict here.
Thursday 13:30 - Teresa, bank, waiting, not gonna happen…
16:00 – Again I’m at the dance school. And again I get to hear there won’t be any salsa classes today. Instead there was a birthday of one of the kids from the school. It’s quite a relief because I was being pretty nervous of having to explain everything in Spanish, on the other hand it’s starting to annoy me a bit as well. They could’ve known yesterday that there wouldn’t be any classes. I spent the day with Nina, the owner, talking and strolling around in the city, waiting (again) until the 19:00 classes would start. At 18:30 Dorien joined me to take tango classes, but again, we went home with just another experience of waiting. The birthday went on for too long and the classes were rescheduled to the next day.
Conclusion: patience really is the magic word here and without it, it’s impossible to survive! That’s definitely the most important lesson I learnt this week!
In the Dutch newspapers, Bolivia wasn’t quite a hot item anymore, so I assumed it would be ok to nose around there. Though after reading Margarita’s notes on the Bolivian situation (September’s blog), I wasn’t quite sure what to expect…
I arrived at 6 in the evening at Bolivia Viru Viru airport. Once I got through customs, Teresa stood waiting for me in the arrival hall with a nameplate. This whole happening was already exciting as I always considered the people on those nameplates probably very important. Now I know better… But the surprise was mutual, as Teresa had expected to pick someone up at the age of 70! Small detail.
After we got that cleared we headed for the house I’m staying at, a small family existing out of Alvaro and Kattia and their three little hijos. Luckily, the other two volunteers, Nina and Dorien, received me with the same excitement as Teresa and I’m guessing they were just glad I wasn’t 70 after all.
That same night they already took me out for a birthday party which was a great opportunity to check out Bolivian life. I’m happy to say that, apart from the many graffiti’s on the wall: ‘Death to Evo’ to ‘Evo will save us all’ I didn’t have an unsafe feeling and the city seemed pretty calm to me.
I soon enough found out that going out here is somewhat different from going out in Holland. Alcohol is gone within a blink of the eye and karaoke is hot hot hot! While karaoke in Holland is not so hot (and definitely not cool either) and you basically only do it when you’re wasted, here it is serious business. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not, you get the applause of a true pop star anyways! And of course there’s no party without dancing. I traded house, pop, dance and R&B for fulltime salsa, merengue, bachata, tango and reggeaton. A lot to swallow on the first day and I slept like a rose in my new house.
The next day the girls took me to the market in the city centre where I witnessed my first attempted robbery. Too bad though the person that got robbed was me! After having ignored all the good advice from my friends, who told me not to wear anything precious, the bill got presented to me that day. Attached to my golden necklace was suddenly a big fat Bolivian whom I desperately tried to shake off. Luckily though, I WAS warned before, so I knew in an instant he was going for gold and I was able to grab my necklace before he did. Lesson learned. No more jewellery for me…
On Wednesday I would then start my new job. I was kind of anxious to leave those 4 safe walls between which I was living after the little incident on the market, but of course nothing happened and I already forgot about the whole incident when I had entered the big building of Bolivia’s biggest newspaper, El Deber. Expecting to be a flashy news reporter, I was then a bit disappointed when I found myself sitting behind a desk looking for images of emoticons. Luckily the girls at home told me that it was normal to be thrown in the deep on your first day, but that it would soon be better. So, while I’m waiting for that to happen, I might as well check out the food and the life here and try to find some more stories to write about next week.
Fingers crossed…
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