Adventures? Check. Maybe one too many.

The crew.

Toro Toro in the distance.

Descending.

Waterfalls

If you look really closely, you will see me in the red jacket.

Sliding down a rock.

sleepy town on Saturday morning

Dinosaur tracks!

Last weekend I jumped at the opportunity to go to Toro Toro, a small pueblo nestled in the mountains about 4 hours from Cochabamba. It was an adventure trip - we hiked, explored caverns, climbed down into and then back out of a canyon where there were waterfalls. I really just wanted to get away from Cochabamba, and it was great to breathe in air that was much less polluted, to walk down streets that were practically dog-free, and to get a couple of days off of work. Day one, traveled to Toro Toro all morning, stopping along the way to take pictures. We went to see the waterfalls of Vergel. Walking down a thousand or so stairs was pretty tiring, but it was a beautiful, peaceful spot where we sat for a few minutes. Climbing the stairs on shaky legs was not as much fun. I went to bed right after we finished dinner - I was exhausted! Day two we went hiking around Ciudad de Itas, looking at the rock formations and taking in the incredible views. Had a quick lunch on the road and then climbed down into a cave, where we stretched and twisted our bodies to try to squeeze through cracks and crevices. At one point, we literally had to crawl through a tunnel that was probably only 4 meters long, but it seemed to get narrower and narrower. Luckily I was able to squeeze through without panicking; it reminded me a little too much of the movie Tremors. That night as I was getting in the shower, I noticed my lower right leg was all bit up and starting to blister. I showed the bites to my guide at dinner that night, and he seemed unconcerned, just that it looked like I was having an allergic reaction and if I wanted to, he would take me to the hospital in the morning. (Huh.) I had a fitful rest that night - my leg had started to throb plus I had nightmares about being trapped in a cave without a light. By morning, the blisters on my leg had grown to the size of a dime, but they seemed okay and I didn't want to miss seeing the dinosaur tracks or the morning hike. We climbed up the side of a mountain to see fossil impressions.

fossils and impressions

out-side of leg

Other side.

It was neat, but I paid dearly, and on the descent, I fell behind the rest of my group because I simply could not keep up with their pace as my leg was really throbbing. I was happy I was headed home to Cochabamba that day, and after a long, long trip back, I was finally able to prop my leg up on some pillows and pass out. Sunday I met up with a friend who used to be a nurse, and she referred me to a young doctor from my parish. Unlike my nurse friend, he seemed unconcerned, but agreed to help me see a dermatologist on Monday morning. In the meantime, I went over to the nurse's house where she cleaned up my wound (because the blisters were starting to seep) and gave me some antibiotics because she said that my bites had become infected and did not look good. Better to be safe than sorry, etc.
Monday morning it hurt a little to walk, but I powered though it and mid-morning I went to see the doctor, who said I had a bacterial infection and needed to be on stronger antibiotics than the ones I was taking. I am also on a regimen of soaking my leg twice a day and putting a bunch of topical ointments on it. It is much better now, so don't let the pictures scare you. I am still trying not to itch . . . whatever bit me has put something in my system (or psyche?) and I feel like I am being bit all the time and my skin tingles and itches. Knock on wood, I haven't had any new bites in the last week, so I don't think I brought the mites home with me. But for good measure, I boiled everything I wore during my trip there - including my backpack. :)

My own personal water war, resolved.

Interesting trivia - Cochabamba put itself on the map during the "water war" of 2000 when US company Bechtel privatized the water, the people protested, and eventually the people won and the privatization of water ended. A Hollywood movie came out about it called 'Tambien la Lluvia' starring Gael Garcia Bernal. It has received good reviews. . . You can google it if you want, because my post has nothing to do with it - I just figured it would be a good plug to get people to know a bit about the country I currently call 'home'. Ha.

No, no. My water war has been with my landlords. When I moved into the apartment, they said that I would have to pay water and electric in addition to rent, which seemed fine. What I did not realize was that there wasn't a meter for the water that I was using. This didn't particularly bother me until my landlady knocked on my door one afternoon and told me that I owed 'x' amount of bolivianos for water. Huh. I asked to see the bill, and she showed it to me - a handwritten note from the city water department, which indicated that the amount of water was for the whole house. Since her family also lived on-site, she was paying the majority of the bill and I didn't make a huge stink about the fact that she was basically pulling a number out of nowhere. Then they took on more renters.The water charges I was paying her turned into a crazy amount (Bolivian standards, not US). The new renters had 4 adults and a young child, but only had to pay a fraction more for water than I did, a singleton who was barely ever home. I must've complained enough to my community here because they encouraged me to TALK to my landlady about it vs. saying it was fine when clearly I had issues with the entire process. Confrontation is not my strongest suit, but one day when she knocked on my door, I was sort of prepared to start a conversation. It went something like this:
"Lorena, I just charged Rosa Bs. XX  for water, your share is Bs. XX and I will pay the rest."
Silence on my part; I was thinking and giving her a look. Then - 
"Nelly, will you please explain to me the process you use to calculate how much you are charging each unit in this building?"
Silence on Nelly the landlady's part. For whatever reason this was oddly encouraging, because from the look on her face, I knew I had stumped her.
"What I need to know is why I am being charged 'X' amount. Perhaps if I understand your calculations, it will be clearer to me."
Silence. Her mouth opened but no response came out. I waited another 10 seconds before I went on.
"It doesn't make sense to me that I live by myself, am gone almost all the time, and pay XX while Rosa and her family are here the majority of the time and pay almost the same amount. Do you see why I am asking you how you are calculating costs?"
Nelly found her voice.
"Well, I really don't have a process. I pay the most because my family is biggest, then Rosa pays XX and you pay XX."
"Yes, I see. However, Rosa is also home all day, flushing toilets, washing clothes for the entire family, cooking, cleaning, etc. and using more water than I am. Do you see why I cannot understand why you charge me almost the same amount as her?"
To which Nelly became really frustrated and said, "Fine. Just pay me whatever you want to pay."
Not the point I was trying to make, but I had made a stand and I thought I had gotten my point across. This was late last year. When I got back from my vacation in the States, Nelly came to my door one day in March to ask for money for water. (Occasionally our tank runs out of water and we have to buy it off of water trucks that lumber up and down the avenue, which is a cost separate from city water.) She said that she would pay for half, that Rosa had paid XX and that I owed her the rest. It was the same *non* process as before. I just looked at her for a few seconds and it was like she knew what I was thinking because she said something like, "I can't ask Rosa to pay any more that I already have." And since I was too tired to get into again, I decided to pay her and be done with it.
Fast forward to tonight: My rent was due, plus Nelly the landlady needed to hand over my electric bill. She had also mentioned last week that she had the water bill and she would be visiting me to settle accounts. When she arrived at my door, she had a basic spreadsheet in her hand that laid out a process for calculating water bill costs! Hallelujah! I was prideful enough to think that I had inspired this change. Wroo-oooong - Nelly said that her daughter, who recently entered university level studies in engineering, told her that THEY were paying too much for water and devised a system that was more equal and just for all parties concerned. And it is. I just hope that it lasts. I am sure Rosa has become rather accustomed to her cheap water bills and may protest. Better her than me!
All in all, it was a nice present. :)

Embarrassment and Pain

Yesterday we had some donors from Chile come visit our community center to check up on some of the building projects they had funded. Somehow I got roped into showing them around one of neighborhoods where 22 families had been chosen to augment their one-room homes into 2-room homes. This is an area on a hillside, and when we were descending said hill on some questionable gravel-like conditions I was thinking to myself, "I hope nobody takes a digger", when the ground beneath me gave way and I found myself going in slow motion down . . .down . . . down. I am not that tall, but it just seemed to take forever to stick my hands out to take the impact instead of my backside. And what I nice surprise awaited me there! Yes, my friends, one of my hands landed in a plant that was nothing but 'espinas', or needles/thorns.

I didn't even notice (at first) because I was horrified to have fallen down in front of witnesses. I jumped right up again and tried to laugh it off. When I dusted my hands off on my pants, I encountered pain - and after looking at my right hand, I freaked out! I had a dozen or more espinas lodged in my skin. I picked out as many as I could right away, but there were at least 6 that were embedded deeply. One of my coworkers was there and after being assured I was all right, he started in on how the plant I fell on was poisonous, and that I was going to lose my hand if I didn't get the rest of the splinters out. Very nice. (He was kidding, of course.) I went home and soaked my hand in warm saltwater for 30 minutes to no avail. Those things weren't moving, but I tried a home remedy I read online, where a baking soda paste is supposed to help speed up the process of expelling splinters, etc. Today I woke up and my hand was still intact, but the entry sites of the splinters were swollen and red. I went into work today and two of my coworkers decided to 'help' me by picking the needles out with their fingernails and what was probably a un-sanitized pin. It was highly painful and effective. I am now left wondering if I have an infected hand. . .  Hm. Thank God for tetanus shots!

Saying "yes" to the dress

the design

Last week, I received a visit from Martha, a woman I got to know last year when her kids were part of the educational scholarship program. She is a very small, very quiet woman who is studying tailoring/dressmaking, and has been attending classes faithfully for several months. I had not seen her in quite some time, so I greeted her warmly and asked about her family, etc. She asked if she could speak to me alone so I figured that something must be wrong, but she only wanted to know if I would to help her out by being a model for a party dress. She timidly told me that I would have to buy the material but that she would make the dress for free, as it is part of her final exam.  I accepted this proposition with a huge smile and immediately made plans to head to the main market "La Cancha" to try to find something appropriate (translated: something I might actually wear once it is made). I have no idea how this project will turn out, but it will certainly help Martha! Here is what I picked out:
1) a design that by US standards is probably passe
2) a lovely flower print that is lilac and gray with a cream colored base AND
3) a purple base color (when the flower print is covering it, it really makes the lilac/purple pop).

Top layer

base color

Wish Martha luck! I'll keep you posted on developments. :)

Rainy Days are Saturdays. . . at least lately

I woke up this Saturday morning to a light pattering of rain outside. I looked at my bedside clock - 10:15 a.m.
Wow! Not something that usually happens to me, as I am an early riser. I suppose a combination of being sick all week and yesterday's workout probably should be thrown into the mix of reasons for sleeping in, but the rain is key. For whatever reason, the dozens of dogs in the neighborhood tend not to bark if it is raining. I'm sure they're curled up on their respective owners' stoops or seeking shelter somewhere, but because they aren't in the street, there is less reason for all the drivers to use their horns (which also rouse people from their dreams).
Anyway, the rainy season in Cochabamba finally seems to be petering off. For me, the season means I have to deal with small inconveniences of walking through flooded streets and mud, waiting for a sunny moment to wash my clothes, or sitting in a damp spot when taking public transportation. For many of the families whom I serve, the situation is much more dire.

 

 Me in the Southern Zone, after a house visit

After a hard rain, the water comes down the mountainsides and floods all the houses. There is very little shrubbery or plant life on the hillsides because the dry season is so long and hot that the sun ends up burning/killing everything. Also, any trees in the area have long been hacked down by those who are looking for firewood. A few weeks into the rainy season, it appears like the mountains are lush and green, but it is deceiving - the plants aren't enough to keep the water back. If a house wasn't built well or is older, you can imagine the damage one rainy season causes! I was out making house visits the other day and actually saw the "sewers" backing up and bubbling raw sewage into the open, after a mere 10 minute downpour. (The smell, I imagine, was close to the Bog of Stench in the movie Labyrinth.) My water engineer friend tells me that the flooding situation will only get worse as more streets get developed (without necessarily adding sewers) and there is less available earth to soak up the rain.

Isn't it funny how one moment we are praying for rain and the next we are wishing it away? (Well, that has been my experience growing up in the Midwest anyway.) In about 3 months, I'll be tired of sunny, hot days where every vehicle that passes me by on the road creates a cloud of dust that gets everywhere. I don't even want to think of what is IN that dust. . .
For now, I'll just be thankful for a rather restful night's sleep!