Pictures pictures pictures

A shot from the soccer match Caitlin and I attended. Sadly, my new adopted team The Strongest proved to be the Mediocrest and lost 2-1 to the hated Wilstermann Aviators. The crowd was into it and the stadium had some great mountain views, which made up for the lack of, we´ll say, ability on the pitch. All in all quite fun. Oh, and The Strongest will get their revenge yet.
These buses are everywhere in Bolivia. They are the public buses. Obviously the totally put all american public transport to shame. Just look.
Llama fetuses! Direct from the womb of our favorite spitting creature. But in all seriousness these are sold at nearly every market here to be used as a good luck charm for new buildings. All the hocus pocus aside, they are pretty frightening and even a little sad. Especially the furry ones (not pictured here.)

Some food pictures

This is most likely me after a full year in Bolivia. Mind you, this is 9 AM on a Monday. Dig the sandals though.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce you to chicha. A fermented corn alcohol (originally done through mastication and saliva) that tastes something like sweet corn beer. It´s potent and fairly delicious. Certainly the national drink of the country and something that Cochabambinos take quite seriously.
Chicharron. It´s pig, grease and potato. Surprisingly delicious but outrageously umm...the presentation isn´t the best.
These are chicken heads sold in La Cancha, Cochabamba´s seriously oversized market. The market itself is a good 50*20 in city blocks. There you can find any good imaginable from toothpaste to cakes to monkeys to cow snout. Oh and it´s packed with people at all times. Not to mention the constant blaring of car horns and yells from various venders. It´s something like I would imagine the entire country of Bangladesh to be like.
Caitlin sipping Chicha from the communal bowl. Helped wash down the pig intestines.

A Boatload of Photos on the Way...

This is me, duh, in front of some big, glowy church in the main square of Cochabamba. I swear I was looking at something important off in the distance, and not just trying to appear suave.
Caitlin, in the very same square as above. She looks better than I do. There is an incredible wealth of greenery and parks in this city. It´s totally incredible. You can hardly walk three blocks without stumbling across some benches, sunshine and a fountain.
A view of the city on our way up a giant hill where we would encounter the world´s largest Jesus statue. Shazaam Rio! Still looks like L.A.
At the top of the hill. The amazing thing is that we still get wildly winded every time we are forced to exert oursevles. Will we ever truly acclamate?
Me and Susan, Rommy´s sister, at the Chicharron place. Chicharron is sliced up pig parts, greased up nicely and slopped on a plate. There are pictures of that to come.

Love at first sight

Caitlin better take cover, because I have a new love in my life and her name be Churrasco. Last night a mess of us went out for the succulent and tender meal. It is no more than perfectly grilled hunks of meat. We entered a simple and smokey room, replete with plastic furniture and surly, big bellied servers. The options are only beef, prepared essentially two ways (though they looked vaguely the same to me.) Caitlin and I split the churleton, which is three, i´d say, 25 oz. steaks, served on a wooden board, with a couple french fries, mustard and no more. Oh, and it cost 5 dollars. This meal would be easily in the $50 range in the U.S. served in some uptight steakhouse with cloth napkins. Not in Bolivia, it´s all business here. If I close my eyes, I can still taste the goodness. Vegans beware, this place is not for the faint of heart. The meat is ominpresent and no frills. It´s something like Texan heaven.

In other news, the fair maiden and I will be attending a soccer match tomorrow between the local team, Wilstermann, who sport a Nazi Airplane as their logo, and my adopted club, The Strongest. Obviously, in the match between strength and faux-nazism the team with the best uniforms will prevail. I like the black and gold.

In other other news (probably of more interest than meat and futbol, though I don´t know to whom) on May 4 the Santa Cruz region of Bolivia is voting on a referendum for autonomy. They are trying to become a unique and self sufficient state in much the same vein as Cataluyna and Quebec. Of course, their reasoning is the relative wealth of the state and a reticence to sharing said wealth with the other, poorer states, as is the plan of president Evo Morales. There are rumors of coups, conspiracy and the like being bandied about in the papers. Caitlin and I will be traveling through the Amazon and potentially Santa Cruz at that time. Depending on how adventurous we are feeling it could be a prety interesting experience. Of course, all of this relies on the notion that we will have removed ourselves from the nasty and sticky grips of bureaucracy by then. Here´s to hoping.

Jaron

Photos without people

A shot of the forever blue skies in Copacabana and the Norman inspired church in the main square.
Though this park looks lush and massive, it is really no more than fifty yards. But is a pleasant spot for relaxing in Plaza 6 de Agosto across from the church. And there are almost always ice cream men walking by honking his horn.
Just a shot from right outside the store of the lake. Sometimes the sky is orange at this time of evening. I never seem to have my camera when this occurs.
A shot from Rommy´s house of Cochabamba. This could be L.A. right? Right?

¡Pictures Galore!

The view from the hill above our lodgings in Copa.

Contacts

Hello friends and enemies,

Thought I´d drop a line from sunny and somewhat Southern Califonia-esque Cochabamba. A town that certainly rolls off the tongue. Caitlin and I are with Dave and Rommy (who is from the city) to obtain our year long work visas. And boy howdy is it a process. In fact, this may be the most ridiculous, layered and disfunctional bureaucracy I have ever come across. Today alone we made some 100 photocopies, met with interpol (and proceded to bribe them into rushing our papers through...otherwise it would have taken 2 weeks for them to send a fax to the USA checking that we aren´t criminals) met a notary, got papers so that we are allowed to get our blood drawn for an HIV test tomorrow, went to the regional police offce (where the told us that we needed more papers and stamps...always stamps) forged a rent contract, and lots more!

In the police station everyone, properly uniformed of course, was doing their work on typewriters. Clunking away as if it were some sort operator´s booth from the 1950s.

Also, caitlin and I got cellphones our numbers are as follows, if anyone feels like ringing us I know we would appreciate it.
Jaron (591)79640915
Caitlin 591-79623295

I have picked a Bolivian soccer team to devote myself to. They are called...drum roll please...The Strongest Tigres. Oh yeah. That´s right, a name so fearsome its even in English. Take that Giants! Take that Padres! They are from La Paz and the quality of play is probably about jV high school ball in the states. Hooray.
Well thats all for now. More pictures and bureaucratic updates to come in the near future. Man, fast internet really is something.
with tired eyes
Jaron

A Couple More

A Bit Dark, But You Get the Idea

Turns Out the Bluest Skies Yóu´ve Ever Seen Are in Bolivia

The Store In Copacabana!

Pics of Copacabana, Bolivia.....

Our New Hometown- Copacabana!

It´s Spanish for "Cup" Cobana

Life remains blissfully good here in Copa. Caitlin and I just adjourned our second week of teaching an advanced English class, with a group of 8 delightful kids. All of whom are quite smart, all of whom seem to have taken a liking to us, and all of whom totally dug learning Duck-Duck-Goose. It´s fun to feel that we are already, little by little, immersing ourselves in life here.
Copa, however, is a bit of a tough nut to crack. Multiple headscratching ironies abound, the most obvious of which, I previously mentioned, is the lack of an ATM. A town which is nearly purely tourist based without a cash flow is a bit like trying to drive a car without brakes. You may be able to move, but control and precision are shaky at best. The amount of money lost due to stubborn behavior (an unwillingness to let an armoured truck from another region of the country come to bring money for an atm) is unfathomable. Hell, this could be Dubai if there was an ATM.
Also there is a neverending tension between the locals, the terse and serious Aymara people, and the wandering hippies who sell jewelry in seemingly every sunny spot in the town. It seems to reflect that constant tug between preserving culture and listless wanderers who have a knack for finding hot spots before they´re hot.
Which brings up Copa in general. The town is adorable, neverendingly beautiful, and culturally rich. For the past three days staight in our neighborhood some unspecified house was blaring eerie, classical music for all to hear. In our minds it bandied between humor and stupification. Eventually we found out that is a traditional way to mourn the recent passing of a family member. Certainly got our attention. I have a fantasy of some cul-du-sac in suburbia being swamped by blasting classical music at 3 A.M. and the reaction of the people there. But we don´t need to get into that.
Also we went to La Paz, a dizzying city to say the least. It is pretty much just a giant, two million person market place. Selling anything and everything one could ever desire, not to mention the massive and awe inspiring mountain (Illimani) that lurks in the background. Still haven´t totally acclimated to this altitude, but once I due, man I will be some sort of world conqueror. Denver, I scoff at thee!
I have started to plant some vague seeds of starting a local beisbol team, but that will certainly be a work in progress.
Finally my parents blessed me with a name that means pitcher (the pouring kind) in spanish so I´ve adopted the moniker Jaronimo. Which may or may not give me some sort of mystical powers.
More on that later.
Járonimo

Real Quick

There is no atm in copacabana, lovely as the town is, so Caitlin and I are extremely low on money for the next couple of days. Thus we don't really have the time or money to use the internet for the necessary period to upload photos and really update ya'll. Whomever that may be. Copa is really exceptional, the perfect little lake town. The lake sparkles and sizzles under the bright sun from the moment it rises at 6 am. There are cute restaurants and assorted local haunts. The locals, especially the top hatted women, are fairly terse and not particularly warm to foreigners. But, you know, centuries of conquest will do that. I recommend the Jew path, get all the ya yas out vis-a-vis sitcoms. But, that's just me. The job is good, the digs are good. The food is the only suspect as meat is pretty much not ok to eat (see:wheelbarrowed in lumps of dirt and sitting in the sun all day.)
Ok. Thorough updates once the moolah starts rolling, which will be once we get back from La Paz on Tues.
ciao
Jaron