We Live in Bolivia

Travels travels

2008-08-07T11:22:00.002-05:00

Caitlin wandering lost, and probably dismayed, through the endless white expanse of Salar de Uyuni. Our trip there was far from uneventful. Packed with long hours in the car (23 in 3 days), extreme temperatures, some rowdy Brazilians, outrageous landscapes, broken windshields and running out of gas in the middle of nowhere, it was certainly something to tell the kids about. Freezing and beautiful Salar is not for the faint of heart, even if Caitlin looks pretty chilled out here.
At 16,000 feet, in the frigid cold, with winds whipping about, are hundreds and hundreds of contented looking Flamingos. Totally bizarre. I mean do they know there are a lot of warmer, lusher places they could live? Don't they have cousins in the everglades they can stay with? Anyway, they are majestic and giant birds. Their pink is only outdone by the fact that in one of the lakes (Laguna Colorada) is an even brighter hue than they. It's something out of a demented fairytale, the water, shimmering against red mountains, under viciously blue skies, shifts from a passionate purple to the color of cherry flavoring.
This is Laguna Verde. You can't really tell how green the water is, but with the volcano looming it's an impressive sight. Unfortunately, at negative temperatures, we really only had time to hop out snap a few photos and plunge frantically back into the jeep.
More impressive than pink lakes, salt flats and volcanos, our kitten, Salvador's, growth. He's a monster, and pretty good looking. Caitlin and I have decided he either is posing for a woman's magazine (what a bod) or is some sort of sexy R&B singer. We'll call him Sal D. Either way, he brings the funk. And he's giant.

Overdue Pics

2008-08-07T11:10:00.002-05:00

Caitlin and I on the Isla del Sol, Copacabana's main tourist attraction. And, after putting it off for four months, I must say absolutely worth the effort. It's outstandingly beautiful. Clear, almost tropical water with sandy beaches, give way to swooping and dramatic hills. With incredible views of the Cordillera Real (think the Olympics times five) in the background beyond the deep blues of the Lake, it's all really magnificent. We had the pleasure of doing the day tour with my sister and her friends who were visiting. Good times all around.
A shot of some spooky rock formations on the island. And, you know, the mountains too.
In a complete change of scenery, I'm not in the middle of the tundra, though the weather certainly felt like it (-20 celcius!), but rather in the vast salt flats outside of Uyuni. It was a totally mindblowing and disorienting place. Something of a salty moon land. The environment was completely different than anywhere I've ever been previous, or ever will be again. In a word, harsh. Dry, freezing, blindingly white, but somehow mysterious and magical.
On Fish Island in the middle of the salt flats, its a giant coral reef above ground dotted with massive, imposing cactus. Definitely surreal. Definitely the moon.

Top Ten Ridiculous Things About Copacabana...

2008-07-13T17:11:00.003-05:00

Caitlin and I live a good fifteen minute walk out of town, which gives me some time to do serious thinking each and everyday. Most of this time is spent brooding over the loss of the Sonics. But yesterday I created a top 10 ridiculous things about Copacabana list, reading it over baffles me, so try and understand...

10. The heaps of 16 year old boys dressed in strict military fatigues who guard the ¨city limits.¨They spend the vast majority of their time cat calling girls and drinking soda, not to mention their all important, and quite serious task, of checking all cars for drugs. Though they are more interested in watching the WWF matches they have on loop in their offices. The Bolivian military, hooray!

9. The three women who neighbor the store, on the main drag of town, all sell the exact same product. Giant, football sized, popcorn called pasankalla. It's kind of like large, stale kettle corn. I hate it. Caitlin likes it. They women hate each other (as you can imagine, competition is stiff) and have a ridiculous rivalry all based in giant popcorn. The drama therein is worthy of its own short story, to be certain.

8. Walter Polma (the town's main drug dealer and owner of I'd say 60% of the lake view real estate) drives a sweet sweet minivan. Guess narco traffickers in Bolivia are not as fancy pantsed as elsewhere.

7. The fact that we live on a giant lake, notorious for its trout (which is, sadly, farmed) and there is absolutely no fishing industry here. Though tourists ask about it daily. Logic is not really en vogue here.

6. There's no ATM (millions lost), but there is a loopy, bar owner named Macarena. She's ten times more lively than the dance.

5. Walking to work at 8:50 on a Monday morning I'm almost certain to pass a group of older men and women sitting on the side of the road, an empty bottle of vodka and beers scattered around them as they sit in a bizarre and uncomfortable silence with one another. Drinking hard before nine on a Monday. And who said people here are lazy? That's serious dedication.

4. The Bolivian Navy. This country is land locked. There's probably not a lot more to say. They don't really know how to row, and don't have any engine propelled boats. Again, the Bolivian Navy. And this is only number four.

3. There is a town tradition of blessing vehicles in front of the church. It's sacred and yada yada, but really it's just pouring beer and champagne on car engines and the seats inside. Guess, if you aren't drinking at nine a.m. you may as well douse your car in alcohol. Just to, you know, get that engine in prime condition.

2. The first week Caitlin and I were here we went into a restaurant for lunch, and the only person in charge (I shit you not) was a child in diapers, who could hardly speak. I would say the vast majority of the shops are run by children 12 and under. I mean, there are a lot of soap operas to watch in a day. You can't expect mothers to be in charge all day, not when there is adequate 2 year olds to do the work for you.

1. This kills me...the children just had a 3 week winter vacation. Acceptable, but a bit ridiculous as the kids here only go to school three or four hours a day at the very very most. But, since no one here really likes to go to school anyway, and since there is plenty of drinking to be done by the teachers, and the kids have restaurants to run, vacation was extended a week. But get this, the reasoning was...wait for it...some mornings there is frost. Yep. Frost. No school on account of frost. (Koreans and Japanese children are weeping) The weather here has not changed more than 2 degrees Fahrenheit since we arrived in March. It may have gone from 41 to 39 on a chilly night, but the days are still t-shirt and shorts ready, with nary a cloud in the sky. Yet, they cancelled school for a week, because of ¨frost¨which may or may not even exist. Ahh Copacabana, working hard at being ridiculous.

Pics

2008-07-11T12:37:00.002-05:00

I doubt anyone really looks at this here website as we hardly ever update it at this point, but figured I'd plug in a few more pictures for the curious. This one is the border guard station. Right at the edge of town there are heaps of 16 year old boys in fatigues who check the taxis that come and go from Copacabana. It's at best a farse. The biggest drug dealer in town, who owns the vast majority of property here, has his own private large Mercedes bus that crosses the border (without passengers) and you better believe he has 16 year olds, who work in an office that looks like this, are going for the cash. Anyway. I feel safe.
One side of the street on our walk to work. It's mostly just crumbling half built houses, made of a dark adobe and brick. In the distance is the church and some of the massive, jagged hills that are omnipresent in the distance. To me this is a very indcative picture of middle class existence here...while the following picture...
Is a shot of the money that's flowing in this town. The lake is starting to be ringed by big beautiful (and extremely cheap) hotels such as these two. There are bell boys, restaurants, hot tubs and the like. Pretty nice. At times, when the sun is setting in the distance this look a lot like Monaco or some such wealthy principality to me. With the boats and the lake's gentle waves. If nothing is, this town is in a serious state of flux.
Just more of the walk to work. Nearly everything is stunning in both its beauty and simplicity.
You can't really get a great feel for his size here, but that's Salvador on our bedroom window ledge. He's just a monster. In three weeks he has easily doubled in size. He's quite the goodlooking young Simba, lion creature. Ferocious at times, but mellowing and becoming quite loving of Caitlin and I. You'll also notice in the background that pretty decent view we've got.

Long Overdue...and the family grows

2008-06-27T18:26:00.002-05:00

In a stroke of fate that is let's say not surprising Caitlin was gifted a kitten by our ever friendly and muppet voiced landlord, Doña Sofia. Being a Canfield, she was unable to reject the offer. We now have in our room with a view an adorable and incredibly spunky baby boy by the name of Salvador. Or Sal, if you please. Or Simba. He's cute and acts pretty much like you'd expect a month old kitten to behave. Plays like hell. Sleeps. Repeat.
He may look cute but there is deep imbedded lion blood in this creature. He's an athletic freak (moreso by the day) eats more than Caitlin and I combined and is hardly bigger than my hand. His high pitched and somewhat demanding meow is unendingly adorable except when it happens in a pleading attempt at play at 4 in the morning. Otherwise, good stuff.
If you squint you can see the Fair Maiden seated in the corner of the store in Copacabana. It doesn't give you much perspective as to how tiny the place is, but four people in the store and you can tell what everyone else had for lunch. There's Lonely Planets, music, random books in at least 9 languages, compasses, ponchos, backpacks and much more. I don't really know what to say after that.
The "Pay Coo Coo" or Miss Primitiva Quispe Quispe and Caitlin. Primi is first cousins with Yoda.

Internet

2008-06-12T15:48:00.003-05:00

So,
The internets aren't working so hot right now. I've got a glut of other pictures I'd like to put up, but for whatever reason it ain't happening today. Instead I'll tell write a little on the racism that plagues Copa.

This town is a very closed off and strange place, where anything less than 5 generations here makes you a foreigner. So under these pretenses the locals stir up a large pot of xenophobia and racism they hurl towards anyone not specifically from Copa. That includes all other Bolivians as well.

They make up vicious rumors and sexually laced stories about the expat population, painting them as lurid drug addicts who do nothing but indulge in indecency. Which couldn't be further from the truth. Most of the foreigners who stay here for an extended period are friendly, helpful and goofy, three words I would never use to describe the local Aymara.

Recently, there was a march, after two local boys were caught stealing license plates, blaming and protesting foreign businesses for the teenaged troublemakers. People streamed the streets chanting ¨Death to Foreigners¨all in response to their own problems. Drunkenesss, alcoholism and abuse are massive problems amongst locals here yet they point the fingers squarely on the dreaded Argentines minding their own business.

Just the other day Caitilin and I repeatedly (twice) went to one woman's stand trying to buy some rice for dinner. She refused to acknowledge us, turned her back and then finally, after we persisted, said the rice was not for sale. We mentioned that she owned and store and it seemed inherently counterintuitive not to want to sell your wares, but alas. Scorn and hatred like this are far too common here. It's discouraging in so far as Caitlin and I were both very excited to involve ourselves heavily in the community, learn aymara, teach, work at the hospital, but with such an icy reception there is no desire to give back.

It does not taint our time here, however. The people who are kind and exceptionally kind and we have a great job and house to bide the time. The surroundings are certainly condusive to creativity and bettering our spanish is a joy. Not to mention the trips and visitors we have to look forward to in the coming months. If anything the divide just furthers the juicy intrigue that lays low over this town like one of the few clouds that hover over the lake.

We have a house

2008-06-12T15:10:00.002-05:00

This is the view from the window of our new house! From our bedroom no less. Caitlin and I, after much heartache and deepset racism, found a place to live. It's about a ten minute walk out of town. We pay 40 dollars a month (shared) and live with an Argentine expat named Luciano (Lucho). He's incredibly kind and friendly and has pretty sweet dreads. After loads of people showing us houses with no electricity, no bathroom, broken floors (which they expected us to pay to get fixed!) we stumbled across Lucho's place. Apart from not having a fridge it's a dream come true. If we ever live anywhere with a view like this again, well then we will be doing something right. Not to mention the sunsets....
The living room. Complete with sparse hippie decor and cement floors. But we just made a two day trip to La Paz (running up the massive hillsides) and bought everything we could possibly want to turn the house into our home. With apologies to Luther Vandross. We are done sleeping on the matress made of dried reeds (which the local woman refused to show caitlin unless she promised she was buying the matress and paid first...I promise to post about the out of control xenophobia and racism asap.
Another shot of the view. There's a garden, it's massive, and a three legged dog named Rengo (Limp) just to make Caitlin feel completely at ease. We really couldn't have been luckier. Actually when we first got to town, some three months ago, we went for a walk and fantasized about this exact house, saying if we could choose any place in town that would be where we want to live. Low and behold, 90 days later and we're cooking stir fry in the kitchen.
The spartan exterior. All building is done here in either adobe or cement. Just pray there are no big earthquakes.
The other day we went to Primi, our co-employee's house in Yampupata (a small small town further down the lake about an hour away from Copa) for a campo cookout. This picture show's the group. On the left is Dave, owner and founder of The Spitting LLama, next to him is Primi in her finest hat. Romy is standing above Primi's son Brandon. Innocencia, Primi's mother, is glaring angrily at the camera and Caitlin is looking marvelous on the far right.

A Day with the Bolivian Navy

2008-05-30T18:40:00.002-05:00

Here's lovely Caitlin enjoying our outing on the lake today. She refused to jump in the water.
Here's Jaron with, believe it or not, short hair. Also in the distance is Isla del Sol. Jaron did jump in the lake. He may or may not regret it.
So today we retrieved our friend Fatima's boat, which she keeps docked at Copacabana's Naval base. Yes, that' right. A landlocked country with a Navy. Boy do they keep the waters of Lake Titikaka patrolled and safe. Actually, the whole Navy appears to be nothing more than about 20 eighteen-year-old boys who alternate between wearing goofy 1940's Navy garb and drinking beer in dirty fatigues. Oh and officially stamping random papers. When Caitlin and I asked the Navy boys to get us the boat and bring some oars and life jackets, they honest to God took 45 minutes to move the boat about 20 yards. They didn't appear to know how to row very well and their fleet, or singular boat, looks something like a beat up swamp buggy from the 1970s. At least they have Jesus overlooking them in those dapper outfits.
A shot of town from the Naval base. It's way more beautiful and scenic in person. I promise.

A Few Shots of Copa

2008-05-30T18:26:00.002-05:00

There are sunsets like this literally every night. It's an incredible thing here, the end of a day. We go from frost and a serious nip in the air in the early morning, to profusely sweating in the shade at about 3 pm. Next is the nightly water color spectacle over the lake and finally a deep chill as soon as the sun finally disappears. Lovely bookends to a day, really.

Locals joke that there are 360 holidays a year in Copa. I seriously don't doubt it. There seems to be occassion to drink and miss school nearly every day. Sometimes this is problematic, sometimes they fill the main square with flower petals in these pretty and ornate designs. Just glad I don't have to get an education here.

A Week Back in Copa

2008-05-23T16:44:00.002-05:00

Life here is something like I would imagine living in Tuscany in the 1960s to be. Only there is a giant, epic and unendingly blue lake as the center piece of the whole experience. Everyone knows everyone (who's not a hippie, tourist or unseemly vagabond) the market is a staple of the social sphere, vendors chat with street artists whiling away the hours under a sky that appears to have forgotten what a cloud even is.

There is time to read and write and sit. There is time to chat and enjoy a long meal at midday. Working in the store, and officially taking the lead on it at this point, has already taught me a bit about business and aesthetic. Even if I don't have a blade of interest in retail I still find the bartering and endless interactions with tourists to be totally fulfilling. And Caitlin and I have even figured out how to cook with a little gusto up here. As if things couldn't be going well enough already.

The characters are developing. Dreamy Argentine coke heads who just can't seem to stay away from this place. Young mothers, conservative beyond their years, babys slung in colorful blankets across their backs. Brooding English bar owners, always with a cigarette in his mouth and scowl across his face. Not to mention his short, big nosed Bolivian wife. It's all quite intriguing and potentially the funniest thing of all time.

Long bike rides through eucalyptice forests, with that smell, as the Lake glares at you in the distance, make me realize that Caitlin and I are pretty lucky these days. We could be in an office building in a parking lot in Dallas staring at a screen for 10 hours a day. But no. We have the pleasure and challenge of life in the center of South America at 13,000 feet in the air. Damn.

Jaron

Dragon Slayers

2008-05-13T17:00:00.002-05:00

Great Googley Moogley We Did It!
After literally a month of fighting a vicious, uphill battle against the chaotic disorder that is Bolivian bureaucracy, Caitlin and I officially obtained our visas and national identity cards. Some 200 photocopies, 4 lawyers, 2 bloodtests, 63 stamps (each), 6 sets of fingerprints and 4 rounds of mugshots later and we are done with the process. Though we still have to wait until Thursday to pick up our identity cards. Honest to God this was the most difficult task of my life, or at least cost the most trees. Unbelievable. I rather take a ten hour economics exam than deal with that ever ever again. But hey, we got really good at standing in line.

One quick anecdote from the process, as Caitlin and I were getting fingerprinted for the final time yesterday the stoic and rather unfeeling officeworker in her starchy green outfit ordered Caitlin to take out her nosering for the official photo. Somewhat understandable. Then, in a joking manner, I asked her if she thought the nosering was pretty. Flatly, she said no. Then told Caitlin that she would get cancer from the piercing and that she was tired of Americans and their negative influence corrupting and ruining Bolivian purity. Ladies and Gentlemen, Bolivian bureaucracy: wildly inefficient, costly and rude! Makes New Orleans seem like Finland.

Thursday night we head back to the sanctity of Copacabana, and I could not be happier. Maybe then there will be some more good pictures to put up.
with great strength
Jaron

Reflection on Santa Cruz

2008-05-07T14:47:00.002-05:00

Hello all few of you who may look at this site.
Since life here in Bolivia is, we´ll say, not fast paced
I´ve started writing some political opinion and social commentary pieces. Here is the first one I wrote. It´s about the recent referendum vote in Santa Cruz. After lots of dialogue with lots of folks and some good help from Caitlin, these are the conclusions I´ve come up with.
enjoy

Democracy Through Racism

By Jaron Berliner

Can a racist referendum really be the most democratic step in a nation's history? Such question is being asked around Bolivia following the referendum put forth by the populace of the country's easternmost state, Santa Cruz. A direct attack upon, and also a deep questioning of Evo Morales' leftist government, the vote produced little in terms of results other than to further fracture a country already greatly divided. Santa Cruz, the wealthiest state in the Republic, is indicative of the colonial residue that coats the entire continent. Much like an aged snow before warming, colonialism still lingers on street corners in dirty, brownish heaps.
While this sentiment may appear overwrought, the referendum is, at its core, based on racism. Just as with persons of African descent in Brazil, the United States and throughout Europe, those of indigenous blood are similarly oppressed in Bolivia. Only here they are the majority. Nearly 50% of the populace still exists as subsistence farmers, living day to day on cultivatable crops or in many circumstances forced into begging, making Bolivia the poorest nation on the continent.
However, Santa Cruz is not alone at the forefront of this deep rooted conflict between the wealthier mestizos and the poor indigenous. Three more states, Pando, Beni and Tarija are determined to go forth with their own referendums for autonomy in the following month. But there seems to be no clear consensus on the intended outcome of these votes against Morales' blooming socialism.
Frenzied crowds gathered in plazas screaming vehemently for autonomy while skirmishes between fractured political parties tainted the day of the vote (red state/blue state ain't nothing compared to these primal, stone throwing battles.) Yet, with all this passion and fury, it remains difficult to decipher what autonomy truly means for any of the discontented states. Apart from fiscal selfishness and vague party lines such as, "Today we said to the world that we are autonomous. Viva Santa Cruz,"[1] from Branko Marinkovic, president of the Pro Santa Cruz Committee, there is little idea of what autonomy truly portends.
Though the vote did pass in a sweeping majority, 85.4% to 15.6%, nearly 40% of Santa Cruz's population refrained from voting many at the behest of the national government, who continue to publicly declare the referendum unconstitutional. Thus supporters of Morales interpret the results as far from overwhelming, arguing that the 39% in abstention, in addition to the other 15%, totals more than 50% of the state's populace.
As an impartial viewer to the political theatrics, it feels little more than another act of under-planned pageantry, a group of elites grasping onto the last ledges of power in a rapidly changing country. Santa Cruz is the capitalist oligarchy fighting and flailing against Morales' impending socialist dawn. Even if the national government, for some reason, acquiesced to the results, the chances of Santa Cruz existing as a singular and successful republic are slim to none. Neither the infrastructure nor support exists for a peaceful and successful secession.
One young citizen of Cochabamba, a city vying for its own autonomy, does not support Morales but was able to distance himself from the factionalizing influence of the referendum. He expressed that the vote was not good for Bolivia as a whole, saying that it hurts business, damages tourism and is little more than a lot of "blah blah blah" without a definite result.
This is not to say that all the drama was for naught. These could be the growing pains of a nation openly dealing with a reshaping of its national power structure. Morales is the first indigenous president in South American history, symbolic of a previously disenfranchised people coming to terms with their strength in numbers.
This brings us back to racism. There is little doubt that Morales' public position to attempt a greater equality for all Bolivians (proposed land reform, nationalizing the gas industry and foreign telecommunications company Entel) instigated the referendum for autonomy. Santa Cruz's elite refuse to give up their land and money, creating a vote born of racial distaste and political disagreement. That is not what is important to take away, however. What is truly on display is a developing country converting its political priorities towards a socialist structure, where the discontented broke with a violent, coup-ridden history, and chose to express themselves via a pure form of democracy, the referendum. They did not take up arms against a majority, democratically elected official. Regardless of the referendum's racist backbone, it is democratically birthed, and that is progress.
In this conflict, both sides have chosen democratic means to promote their dissonant political and personal agendas. On the day of the vote, dissenting indigenous activists showed up in the tens of thousands to exercise their civic rights, peacefully waving the Bolivian flag, a deluge of red, yellow and green for unity. Since there is no looming Republic of Santa Cruz, this vote could be little more than the thrashing of the affluent coming to terms with the fact that they are the political minority in a country determined to rectify its unequal past. Either way, it appears this conflict will be settled through peaceful, democratic means. And that is significant for South America's poorest nation.
[1] Los Tiempos. May 4th, 2008. Cochabamba, Bolivia. Referendum Section. Page 4.

Brothers?

2008-05-04T17:19:00.002-05:00

Obviously my parents have a deep, dark secret they´ve never revealed. He and I look startlingly similar. No?
Once our monkey friend noticed the bunny ears I jokingly put behind his head, he commenced feces throwing and summarily beat me to a living pulp.
Caitlin cheating on Jaron. But seriously, spider monkeys are incredible. So relaxed. So concerned with their upkeep. So comfortable in the laps of pretty women.
Though the town of Villa Tunari was not particularly scenic, the view from high up in the jungle hills was certainly stunning. If you look close, you´ll notice that I´m an artist by utilizing the color focus feature. Watch yourself Anne Geddes, I´m on your tail.

Bug bitten, but alive

2008-05-03T14:48:00.002-05:00

Just got back from a few days in the Amazon, Villa Tunari to be exact, and it went more or less swimmingly. Villa was a remarkably ugly town, considering the surroundings, and offered little in terms of diversions. We did, however, visit the Inti Wara Yassi animal refuge. It is a shelter for abused and previously domesticated wild animals (the main culprits being hotels and the circus...not to mention the exceedingly nasty black market that exists for tropical animals) and it was a totally incredible slice of jungle. The animals, who are eerily not afraid of humans, will literally hop in your lap. Case in point the monkeys that cooly walked up to Caitlin and I, climbed up our legs and made themsevles quite comfortable on our shoulders. I, for one, have never had a monkey within twenty feet of me, let alone sitting on my neck. They were so responsive, interactive and personable. One of the monkeys in an attempt to break into the nearby parrot cage, which had loads of food, used a leaf in mimicry of a key in his failed robbery. I wish desperately I had footage of this. I would just run it on loop and force as many intelligent design, right wing Christian fanatics to watch it as possible. The way those creatures interact with us and each other is not a whole lot different than a 14 year old boy early in the morning. I´m convinced .
There are pictures of the monkey adventures. They will be up soon. For now, we wait until our visas are ready on Thursday. Tomorrow is the Santa Cruz referendum for autonomy. Twill be really interesting to see how the country responds. Violence, indifference, chaos, a giant love-in? we shall see.
Until then
Jaron

Pictures pictures pictures

2008-04-29T20:42:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-29T20:04:00.002-05:00

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...

2008-04-29T19:42:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-26T18:19:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-25T17:17:00.003-05:00

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!

2008-04-25T15:29:00.001-05:00

The view from the hill above our lodgings in Copa.

Contacts

2008-04-21T18:24:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-13T17:34:00.001-05:00

A Bit Dark, But You Get the Idea

2008-04-13T17:29:00.000-05:00

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

2008-04-13T17:22:00.000-05:00

The Store In Copacabana!

2008-04-13T17:12:00.002-05:00

Pics of Copacabana, Bolivia.....

2008-04-13T16:33:00.001-05:00

Our New Hometown- Copacabana!

It´s Spanish for "Cup" Cobana

2008-04-13T16:09:00.000-05:00

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

2008-04-05T09:37:00.002-05:00

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

Pictures for the curious

2008-03-28T18:50:00.002-05:00

Paris Hilton with Curly Hair

2008-03-28T18:34:00.005-05:00

I have gone up to the Citadel at Machu Picchu
three times now in one calendar year. If that does not make me the most spoiled boy South of L.A. I don't know what. However, each experience was rich, overwhelming and extremely invigorating. The word tangible always comes to my lips for whatever reason. I have never visited a place that made me trust in the ingenuity and spirit of humanity in the same way that Machu Picchu makes me feel. It is quite literally breathtaking. I think I would visit five days a week (save a day for watching sports and one for reading) if I could. I may not have a religious bone in me, but this 800 year old city situated precariously at the top of a cloud kissed mountain top makes me believe in humanity and will power. (insert deep sighing here) Plus it makes for some pretty fly pictures. The physical rigor of climbing the peak behind the city (Wayna Picchu) as well the circuitous day of traveling it takes to get to Aguas Calientes, the tiny tourist town situated at the bottom of the site, makes me feel as if I have accomplished something every time I walk through the gate into the sacred site. The lush Andean air, and the early morning sun (it's must to get there before sunrise) brings forth that word again. If that is not real, not tangible, nothing is.

Spiritual (and Physical) Ascendence

2008-03-28T18:17:00.002-05:00

Imagine being very aware of your own proclivity to fall off the side of a cliff. Now imagine yourself surrounded by the most intact, extensive ruins you have ever seen in your life. Add a precarious hike up a vertical mountainside, your feet pounding several hundred ancient Inka stairs carved out of rock, and you'll begin to understand what it feels like to experience Machu Picchu in person.

Jaron and I arrived in Aguas Calientes the night of the 25th, eagerly anticipating a brief night of sleep and an early morning ascent to the Citadel of Machu Picchu. We arose before 5 am, purchased our entry tickets, and were quickly entering through the gates at Machu Picchu. Due to our haste, we (and a number of other international early-risers) were able to relax on stone terraces overlooking the ruins while the sun rose over the jagged Andes. As I watched the sun's rays slowly illuminate the lush, dense Andean mountainsides and then, gradually, the ruins of Machu Picchu, I was acutely aware of my own privilege and luck at having arrived at this incredibly spiritual site.

Throughout the day, as we hiked up the steep ascent to Wayna Picchu and descended along trails into the dense jungle below, these thoughts remained with me. Our fatigued muscles, sweat-drenched shirts and sunburned arms were a fair penance for access to the marvel that is Machu Picchu. Any physical challenge was only appropriate, and even an unfair exchange considering all that we would take away from it.

Reception in the Andes

2008-03-28T17:50:00.003-05:00

As Caitlin and I voyaged through the highest heights of the Andes, on our way to Machu Picchu, we rode in a tiny group taxi called a collectivo (cheap, efficient and local) with a teenaged boy and a middle aged chola woman. (The indigenous women whom you often see wearing sweet hats) Miles away from any sort of development, amongst only ancient terraces and scattered llamas, the silence of our ride was broken by the catchy rhythm of a ringtone. It was not our twenty-something driver, nor the teen (conked out listening to an mp3 player) but instead the chola. Here we were some 12,000 feet up and she was not only on a cellphone but getting perfect reception! Whereas on Vashon, only miles from a major metropolitan American city, you are lucky to get patchy reception at best. She went on blabbering as I just grinned and stared at the passing adobe houses.

America Loves Change...Peruvians Not So Much

2008-03-28T17:44:00.002-05:00

Evidently Peruvians would have a huge problem with Barack Obama because they hate change here. Fortunately, it's the monetary kind. For whatever reason getting vendors, restaurants, ticket agencies to give you the correct change for purchases is considered a major hassle. When Caitlin and I went to Machu Picchu (which there will be plenty of pictures and reflections upon) the man in the ticket booth to get into the site told us he did not have the 8 soles change we deserved. Even though 2,000 people go up to the citadel each day! I mean, they have plenty of money lying around. Come on. Eventually after some arguing (Caitlin's job) we got half of what we were owed.
Also Peruvians are ridiculously finicky about their money. It has to be crisp, new and perfect for it to be considered acceptable for use. Counterfeiters? Yes. National neuroses? Absolutely. So I guess Obama should stick to small states and the deep south and keep out of Peru.

Out of Breath, Overwhelmed by History

2008-03-25T13:04:00.002-05:00

Well, one of the first comments that I will make is that everyone should more or less disregard the "sexy" post by Jaron. I have no idea where that one came from.

However, regarding the photograph below this post, of myself alongside an ancient Inka wall: I'd like to comment that each piece of rock (or boulder, I should say) stands at least 3-5 feet tall. These monstrosities are beautifully tamed, fitting together like a completed jigsaw puzzle so smoothly that their joints seem inexistent to the touch. Cusco has certainly fulfilled any romantic ideals or dreams that either Jaron or I could have dreamed up about Peru.

Ha! And I make that statement one day before we take off to visit one of the 7 wonders of the modern world: Machu Picchu. We leave within a matter of hours by bus, traveling through the Sacred Valley, to meet the train that will carry us to Machu Picchu (or very near there, at least). We will ascend to the mountaintop Inka city by 5 or 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, hopefully in time to meet the sun as it begins to illuminate the ancient ruins.

!Que Sexy!

Tchau,
Cata

Pisco Sour= fuzzy pictures

2008-03-25T12:59:00.002-05:00

If you drink enogh pisco sours, the delectable and foamy national drink of Peru, everything starts to get this hazy, warm glow to it. Case in point this picture of Caitlin. Incidentally she's standing next to giant stone walls made by the Incas around 1200. The precision and details are astounding and make me appreciate dsl internet. I bet they never would have finished those walls if they knew about www.addictinggames.com... tonight we head to Machu Picchu.

Sexy Lighting

2008-03-25T12:56:00.001-05:00

Yes there are fancy, ornate churches here too. Who could guess? I like how my beard fades into infinity in this picture. Makes me seem mystical.

Views of Cuzco

2008-03-25T12:50:00.003-05:00

Here we see the view from our exquisite little hostel high in the hills of Cuzco. The town itself is compact and gorgeous, with white washed walls and stucco roofs galore. From certain perspectives it could be mistaken for some Tuscan town that Rick Steves would wax eloquent about. The days are sunny and warm, the nights chilly but comfortable. Throughout San Blas, the bohemian neighborhood, are swanky bars with ambient music and brightly colored couches. I feel like if I stayed here too long I might start waxing my eyebrows.

View from Our Last Hotel

2008-03-23T18:51:00.003-05:00

This is the San Francisco Monestary. There are some mildly impressive catacombs beneath it. Also there is free wireless internet. The friars gotta read the blog somehow.

2008-03-23T18:42:00.005-05:00

Sadly Enough, one of my main focal points during the last 2 days has been my GI system. One word of advice, if you ever visit Peru: If you want to avoid 'dem cramps, DO NOT try Chifa, Peru's ubiquitous Chinese cuisine. That's all I'm gonna say about that.

Luckily, other points of interest have also entered my Peruvian experience, most salient among those being the city of Cusco. Jaron and I arrived this morning, and were immediately greeted by a giddy, light-headed feeling not to be entirely associated with excitement. Oh yes my friends, altitude adjustment is in town.

Huffing and Puffing up the (maybe) 15 stairs to our hostel, Jaron and I reveled at just how out of shape we had become in the last 24 hours. Did we eat that many pastries in Lima? Nah, it's just the fact that we're carrying around 50-100 pounds of luggage uphill at 11,024 FEET ABOVE SEALEVEL!!! However, the effort is worth it: Our hostel boasts a breathtaking view of Cusco, from its tightly packed, red jigsaw rooftops to the tiny adobe houses winding up surrounding mountains. For all you who know me well, I immediately commented that a late night rooftop bottle of wine and some cheese was in order.

We hope to visit Machu Picchu as well as the Sacred Valley (a valley full of multiple Inca ruins and various archaeological sights between MP and Cusco) during the next few days. Then, we hop on a bus and head towards Copacabana....YAY!!!!

Will write again soon,
All my love (hugs and kisses)....
Caitlin

In the Andes

2008-03-23T18:41:00.002-05:00

Left the hot hot heat of Lima for the comfortable, stunning
Andes and Cusco, a wildly charming and aesthetically pleasing
city. Our digs are beyond quaint. Peruvians continue to
astound with their friendliness and generosity. Today on the
ride to the airport our cab driver actually bought us candy. I don't see any surly New York cabbies doing that. Not so much.

Everything continues to be copascetic. Adventure abounds. Is that corny? It's probably corny. Anyway. Caitlin and I seem to have a knack for this blogging business (watch out Perez, that's all I'm gonna say) so expect the pictures and inciteful commentary to flow fast and furious. Tokyo drift style.

2008-03-23T00:49:00.001-05:00

Plaza de Armas...it's pretty. And colorful.
And usually packed with people. Caitlin looks
vaguely like Richard Nixon. Squint and you
will see...

2008-03-23T00:40:00.001-05:00

I'm happy. I swear. Really, I am.

2008-03-23T00:31:00.000-05:00

2008-03-22T19:03:00.001-05:00

What Jaron Said.

Saturday Evening

2008-03-22T17:48:00.000-05:00

The world certainly is changing. Sitting on a patio, overlooking an outdoor courtyard, with turtles and many of God's other creatures crawling about (oh my cute puppies) my stale old computer is able to pick up wireless internet. Caitlin and I are already immersed in Lima's chaotic and sprawling excitement. There is more to do, more to see and more to eat in five blocks than in all of the Midwest. Our senses are tantalized constantly. Further, Peruvians continually astound with their friendliness. I swear every person will hold your hand and walk you wherever you need to get, and maybe buy a candy or two on the way. The food is good and overabundant. Portions are more than we health conscious northwesterners eat in a day (literally). We just went out for Chifa (Peruvian chinese fusion) and a plate of fried rice, which costs only a dollar, could feed a fat family in Houston for a week.
The weather is hot. We're savoring it for the time being, tomorrow we go up into the Andes. We've managed to wander from one end of this massive city to the other. Twice. I imagine we will make our way back here from time to time...if for no other reason than to be smacked in the face by the stifling humidity and views of the Pacific. Ok. I could write more. But that might make me a blogger...and that would be embarrassing.
until the next time we get wifi
J'aronimo

About to Go

2008-03-19T19:36:00.000-05:00

Yeehaw...leaving tomorrow!