I'll be home for . . .

Christmas!!  Yes, that's right - I finally got around to buying airline tickets for a visit home to the States.  Although I have been planning to come back to Wisconsin for months, on Tuesday I clicked on the 'purchase' button that instantly charged my credit card and filled me with such happiness that you really would have thought it was Christmas Eve. :) 

December will mark nearly 2 full years of being away from my family and loved ones, of speaking Spanish instead of English, of immersion in a culture I have yet to understand.  So when I am back, I expect to go through a little reverse culture shock, especially during the holiday season.  I am nervous to see what awaits me stateside, but mostly I can't wait to see everyone and hear about what milestones have been marked since I left.  Get ready to fill me in, 'cause I'm coming home! Woohoo!

Pick me ups or pick 'em out

When I have a really bad day - as in my attitude starts to go downhill fast about my experience here - I try to do something to pick up my spirits. And I am not referring to alcoholic kind of spirit (at least not frequently!). More of an 'intervention' that I do to myself. I find someone to go out dancing with. I get my nails done. Arrange a card playing party, etc. I've been quite dedicated to getting my nails done as of late. The other day I was video conferencing with my sister who told me that my nails looked "hideous". Gotta love my family for never holding back. Regardless of her opinion, I loved them - I got a hand painted design on my fingernails and toenails for the equivalent of $5. What do you think? Actually, I don't wanna know if you're just gonna say the same thing as her. The pictures don't give 'em justice anyway.





Also, I try to put my job in perspective because it can be easy to get bogged down in the sheer volume of need that I see on a daily basis. I find that is better to focus on the mini-triumphs. Like being able to give someone medication who cannot afford it or offering a client access to our used clothes so that they have an alternate outfit to wear. I can't help myself; I need to measure some amount of good that happens in our offices.

Speaking of which, today I came back from my lunch break to see the cleaning lady and a volunteer from our tutoring program picking lice out of the kids hair. Not their own kids. The kids from the program. It was just their sense of compassion kicking in. They told me that these girls were in pain and probably didn't have attentive mothers. Who knows. The fact is, they were willing to painstakingly pick out lice/eggs out of the thickest heads of hair in the world. I call that an act of love. And that, I suppose, is something that you would miss if you didn't slow down to gape at it occassionally.

Sometimes, I still forget where I am

I recently took on some additional work responsibilities. Additional meaning an entire program. The woman who was in charge of the disability program left the position, and since I was looking for a new challenge (plus there is no money at the community center to hire someone until next year), I volunteered to help make things run smoothly until 2011. I quickly discovered that there were many things in disarray. Which clients were current? How had they decided to re-stock medications every month? (I found out they 'guess-timeated".) Where did all the clients live? When was the last visit to the client's house? Where were the collaborating special education institutes located? Nothing was written down, the official records on hand were sometimes years behind (not months, years). Enter Lauren.
My first after-college job was at a company that was working on its ISO 9000 certification, and let's just say that that sort of quality management has stuck with me ever since. I have begun to put together a step-by-step guide on how the program generally runs. Which is a daunting task, but I hope worthwhile for whoever is hired to run the program.
I have to lean very, very heavily on the knowledge of Nelly, the woman who has been a part-time volunteer with the disability program for many years. She is amazing. I can ask her about any family in the program and she can list off the disability of the client, where they live, what school the child is in, etc. When she first started collaborating with the community center, she was illiterate. Today she can read and write in both Spanish and Quechua. She attends night school. She is learning how to use the computer. I feel that someday she will be officially running the program, but for now, she is the behind-the-scenes guru. Everyone pretty much knows that if she were not around things would quickly break down. Which scares my little quality management heart to death.
One day this past week, I was making a list of all the institutions that collaborate with our program. I was trying to figure out where some of them were located, and since the Internet is still not as widely utilized by everyone as one would hope, I called on Nelly. Our conversation went something like this:
"Nelly, where is [insert institution name]?"
"It's near the airport. I know where it is."
"Yes, I understand that. I need to know exactly how to get there."
"Why?"
"Because I am creating a document that lists all the institutions that we collaborate with and I want to add the directions on how to get there. " (To this, I got a long stare.)
"You know, in case we all die or something, it will be easier for somebody else to run the program if they have all the information they need at their fingertips."

And with that, I lost her (or completely offended her - I got another really long stare before she decided to give me the information I sought. It may have been too dramatic an example.). In the end, it's a cultural thing. What I am doing is very 'western', I suppose. Plan? What for? I've seen a fair amount of turnover at my job in the last year, and it seems like each new person who comes in invents the wheel all over again. Such a waste of time!! But then again, the concept of time is very different as well. . . and I am reminded once again that I am far, far away from home.

Wishful thinking

A Bolivian friend of mine gave me a belated birthday gift a couple of weeks ago. He and his wife were very excited for me to open it. As I pulled off the wrapping and opened the box, I was met, face to beak, with a rooster.
"Do you know what it is?!" they asked.
"Er, yes, it is a rooster figurine."
"Yes", they answered, "but do you understand what we are gifting you?"
(Hm, I mused, clearly not!) "No."
And then they launched into an explanation about how in their culture when someone gives you a chicken (if you are a man) or a rooster (if you are a woman) they are wishing you to find a wife or husband.
"Don't you think it's handsome? For sure, you are going to be lucky this year and find love."

Whoa. Now, I know that people here are generally alarmed when they hear that I am single and/or I don't have kids (and I am not a religious Sister). It's as if you are cursed. Or they chalk it up to you being a 'crazy foreigner'. But, come on! Is faith in a rooster really going to be the answer? Scoffing was going to get me nowhere, so I just smiled and replied that it really was a gorgeous rooster and posed for many pictures. It is currently being displayed in a place of honor in my home. I suppose I should be gratified that my (Bolivian) friends care so much about my future marital happiness. Assuming, of course, that marriage is equated to bliss.
I am now left wondering if this is the beginning of what will soon be a collection . . . and for every holiday or Important Saint's day that I remain a singleton in Bolivia I will be receiving another bird or object of some kind that will Bring Me a Husband. Heaven help me!

Not paying attention. . . and BAM! hit by a biker

Today I was exiting a bus, and as soon as my feet hit the pavement, I was hit by a bicyclist. Hm. Maybe I am being dramatic, but I was definitely grazed. . . I made a full 360 degree turn, got tangled up in my own feet and ended up on my keyster on the side of the road. Never saw it coming. I just looked up to the faces in the bus window, who were rather entertained at the sight of this foreign woman half laying in the street and sidewalk with a dazed and confused look on her face. Oh, and the cyclist? I like to think he turned around to make sure I was okay - which I was, thank goodness. When I had the presence of mind to look for him, he was pedaling like the wind, crossing a busy intersection, getting as far away from me as possible. What a way to start the day. I will probably wake up tomorrow morning to find some nice purple and black splotches. Thank you, biker! I will definitely pay more attention on my bus exits in the future.

On another note, today is La Noche de San Juan (Night of Saint John). What will Bolivians do tonight? Burn their old stuff (or garbage) and eat meat. I guess that is a bit simplistic. As tradition goes, tonight is the longest night of the year south of the equator, and it will get cold because the sun will be 'lost'. In order to guide the sun back, everyone makes huge bonfires during the night. The bonfires are also a way to keep warm. Plus, the cold makes a great excuse to drink (alcoholic) punch and eat sausages, hot dogs and other types of meat all night long. People are supposed to burn wood(en furniture), but if a family doesn't have wood, they just burn their trash - you know, that tire that has been sitting in the lot? Those plastic bottles that have littered the front yard? Light 'em up, baby! And since I live in a poorer area, it is pretty much a guarantee that these will be the items making up the bonfires in my barrio.
I fear for my lung health! Here's praying they don't get too pyro-crazed and try to light anything near my house on fire. (I was in Argentina last year, so I missed out on San Juan. Rumor has it that the city is so smoke filled that the airport closes down until midday every June 24th. Yikes!)