This final entry has been really hard to start, work on, and particularly to finish. I guess I'm in denial that this adventure has come to a close. Yet, it is the beginning of the next one as well! Here it goes:

Backtrack with me if you will, to February, when we met up with my parents in Costa Rica. They had arrived a few days earlier and navigated their way to the west coast via rental car and ferry boat. We arrived in San Jose by bus from Panama and took a 25 minute flight with two other people in a tiny jet plane, and my parents picked us up at the tiny airport on the Nicoya Peninsula. They had bravely navigated poorly signed dirt roads to come get us and I was very proud of them. Here we are shortly after arrival at the Luz de Vida Resort at Santa Teresa, near Malpais (shout out to Marina for the recommendation!).Who knew that the dirt roads would generate a lot of dust in the dry season? We saw many locals riding bikes and motorcycles wearing respirator masks to shield themselves from the clouds of dust that settled into the air after each larger vehicle passed by.A beautiful shot that my mom took at Santa Teresa before Mark and I arrived.Mark, me, and dad after our surfing lesson. We all got up by the end of the lesson and were able to ride at least one wave in to the shore. It was so nice to get to surf without a wetsuit, since the water was just the right temperature.On a hike in the Cabo Blanco Preserve (thanks to Marina for the recommendation!) we heard and saw lots of wildlife. At the end, a group of at least 10 white-faced capuchins were commuting home from work and we got to see them parade by. Can you spot the monkey in this picture?My favorite bird of all time: The Urraca Copetona, otherwise known at the White-Throated Magpie Jay. Who is in charge of all these boring bird names!? It had the widest repertoire of song and sound effects that I've ever heard. Later on, you'll hear about it in Nicaragua as well.On our way from the Nicoya Peninsula back to the mainland by ferry, we saw this van parked on board. Better hope you don't put one of the advertised car batteries under your hood. Make sure to read the brand name out loud if that comment doesn't make sense. It's a Gonher!These were some yellow tailed Oropendulas that were feasting on the fruit at the Arenal Observatory Lodge. We were able to see lots of wildlife there with the backdrop of a steaming, rock-ejecting volcano.I love coatimundi! These little raccoon like mammals can really do some damage with their big claws, but I just can't resist their cute little noses. These guys would come clean up any fruit left behind by the oropendulas and would get ridiculously close to you.We took a Canopy Tour at Ecoglide and I was so proud of my mom for conquering her fear of the unknown. I had a wonderful time and was practically offered a job because they said I was so comfortable with the gear and managing risks. It reminded me a lot of white water rafting.The we underwent a short training session to learn how to hang in the harness and use the hand brake, which was basically a heavy leather glove that you squeezed on the cable to slow yourself down. The only problem was that some of the cables were long enough that if you used the break too soon, you wouldn't reach the next platform. In that case, the guides would come out and give you a tow to the next place.

The cables from tree to tree went by pretty fast, but my favorite part was the Tarzan swing. You got strapped on to this long cable and had to step off a platform, freefall and then swing back and forth a few times before being detached by the guides. We were some of the last people to go, so I was a little nervous by the time I got to go.

When you're high on adrenaline, cold crappy beer tastes divine!!On our last day in the Arenal area, we did a little shopping and tried to visit a local waterfall but got there after the trail was closed for the afternoon. On our way back to town, we stopped at a wooden sculpture art gallery and we saw the kantuta flower growing in the parking lot! This is one of the national flowers of Bolivia, as seen in the mural back in our Peace Corps site.Here we are at our favorite restaurant in Arenal.

Dad and I took a hiking tour hosted by the lodge and got to see this beautiful waterfall. Didn't get to see a lot of wildlife because our group was a bit noisy.The last phase of our Costa Rica trip with my folks was to head west to the Caribbean fishing town of Puerto Viejo, where Mark and I had stayed after attending Marina's wedding last year. The weather unfortunately didn't get the memo that we were coming, so we were pretty much rained out. There were really only a few hours without rain during the three days we were there, but we made the best of it. Got massages at a local spa, ate some seafood, shopped a little bit. The morning that we planned to drive back to San Jose, it had been raining all night and there was talk of the road flooding and closing. So we got going as soon after breakfast, loading the car in the torrential downpour. After being on the road about 10 minutes, we pulled up on a tree that had fallen, blocking the road. There were only 3 cars ahead of us, and some locals were already setting to work with their machetes to cut up the tree. Since we weren't going to be going anywhere with the tree in the way, we got out and helped clear the cut sections of tree to the side of the road. It was slow-going at first, especially since you had to watch the placement of your hands due to the spiky bark of the tree.

It was wet, but warm out. What a team effort.

As we cleared the tree, we discovered that a second tree had fallen just a little down the road. By that time, the rain was lightening up and some community members had showed up with their gas powered chainsaws. Soon there was enough room to get by both trees so we hopped in and got going again, concerned that there might be more obstacles ahead.

How about driving through a bunch of water flowing perpendicular to the road. Here's our insider video. Watch the crazy motorcyclists.

After encountering a few road-blocking accidents and at least one mudslide, we arrived safely in San Jose and checked in to the luxurious Doubletree Inn. Off to find the Namu gallery, owned by a friend's mom who immigrated to Costa Rica indirectly from Ireland. The gallery specializes in facilitating the sale of the work from local indigenous artisans.Although it was a bit rainy and windy, the sun still came out with a beautiful arcoiris- rainbow.

On to Nicaragua! Just over the southern border, we stayed a night in Rivas near the shore of Lake Nicaragua. We headed to Isla Ometepe the next day, a double volcanic island in the lake via ferry. In the shared taxis on our way to the farm we'd be camping at, we saw this banana orchard with interspersed lava rock.

After setting up our tent on the cement porch behind the coffee farmhouse, we heard the loud grunt of the howler monkey and went to investigate- they were hanging out in the nearest tree munching on unripe fruit!

Yet another branding that wouldn't fly in the US. This cleaning solution might work just fine, but you better be afraid. Very afraid.

While Mark flew to Detroit for his successful Western Michigan University interview, I stayed at the farmhouse and chilled out. It was the first time we'd been away from each other at night since before evacuation. I don't think I spoke a single word to anyone the first day because it was nice to be on my own a little, but after about 24 hours I started making friends with the kitchen workers and other visitors to the farm. I found a small group of musicians, so each night we'd take our guitars to the back porch and play and sing until we couldn't come up with new songs. At the farm, you could buy a meal for about $2.50 and they knew how to make some tasty stuff. By the end of the week I had eaten lots of fresh fruit, fried rice, beans, salad, and french toast. It was delightful. I was sad to leave but happy to be meeting up with Mark again on the mainland. Took the ferry with some new friends and then went our separate ways in Rivas. I took the bus north to meet up with Mark in Granada. We had delicous sweet-corn-on-the-gigantic-cob being sold by this young man out of a bucket lined with a trash bag.

In the hotel in Granada, a poet had proceeded us. I've translated his words the best I can so that you may enjoy.

On the wall:

he estado aqui, en el 2008, yo nacido en 1988. Todo lo que haga en esta vida tendrá eco en la eternidad.

I have been here in 2008, I was born in 1988. Everything one does in this life will echo in eternity.

Near showerhead:

El agua de puede calmar la sed pero jamás te limpiará el alma

Water can calm your thirst but it will never clean your soul

Behind TV:

La nieve mata a la rosa y el sol consume a la nieve y asi son vencidos los que vencen

The snow kills the rose and the sun consumes the snow and thus those that win are overcome

Dig it, Daddy-O. (I added that part)

To Honduras! We didn't spend long there, just enough to visit the ruins at Copan and see our PC Bolivia friend, Tim, in Tegulcigalpa. Thus, we entered the Mayan domain, stretching from the northern tip of the Yucatan Peninsula south into Honduras and El Salvador.

Mark had described some of the ruins and how old they were, but seeing an old tree growing on TOP of them gives you a real sense of the age of these places.

Perhaps this tree started as a seed that fell in the crack between the stones and has since made it's way through against all odds.

On the way out of the site, I stopped to use the restroom and almost sat down next to this dude.

This is a restored temple that would have been sitting ontop of a pyramid outdoors. The people at Copan were known for their intricate sculpture, and the bright colors shown here are typical of most Mayan temple decor. In the visitor's center, Copan is referred to as the Paris of the Mayan world.

From Honduras, we headed to Lago Atitlan. Aldous Huxley once described it as "the most beautiful lake in the world." I wonder if he'd ever been to Tahoe? It was certainly dramatic, with smoking volcanoes surrounding the calm, clear blue lake. We took a motorboat taxi to San Marcos, where we planned to relax for a few days. At one of the stops along the way, we saw these small children hauling cement cinder blocks. It was a reality check for certain, that Guatemala must have little or no concept or enforcement of child labor laws. We watched with awe and a little anger as the children worked like ants with a mission to get their work done in the midday heat. One of the boys was able to tie three blocks together and haul it using a rope supported by his forehead like I saw people carrying loads in Nepal.

In San Marcos, we signed up for daily yoga and meditation classes, got massages, and hung out with new age gringos for a change. Then we moved on to camp at the ruins at Tikal. These ruins differed dramatically from Copan in that they were located in the middle of relatively untamed jungle. From above, you could only see a few temple tops peeking out of the trees, so I was impressed that they'd ever been found. It made you wonder how many more sites are out there undiscovered. The scale of Tikal dwarfed that of Copan- it was spread out over a much wider area and took about a half an hour to cross on foot. We saw more coati, this one had an open wound that may have been a territory related dispute.

Other wildlife at Tikal- Variegated Turkeys- technically an endangered species, but really ugly.

The ruins we visited so far have been enough off the beaten path that we had them to ourselves much of the time. As we moved north, the ruins became more accessible so we had to learn to visit the ruins before the tour busses arrived. I was impressed at how the experience changed drastically when you could hear and feel the presence of other people. When you were in the ruins by yourself it felt more sacred and you could hear the birds and perhaps some spirits from the past. Once the tourists arrived, it may have been a more accurate experience of what it was like to be there in the time of the Mayans since these were cultural centers. I doubt the Mayans were as loud as obnoxious as tourists can be, but it was interesting to hear the way the sounds bounced around the courtyards and public gathering spaces. When you were up ontop of the pyramids, you could see how a king or priest could easily address a large group of people with little amplification.

As we arrived in southern Mexico, it started to set in that we were close to home. Having been to Mexico in the past, it felt more familiar. However, we still had plenty to see and learn. The first ruin we visited was in Palenque- one of the more developed tourist sites with official trails and lots of vendors selling cheap replicas of mayan artifacts. Although there were nicely groomed pathways, we were used to being able to explore the ruins freely, so we entered some of them that the bus tours failed to explore. In a dark chamber inside a building, Mark took this picture of me. The only source of light was the camera flash so it was pretty freaky to get in there.Here's Mark walking up the main building at Palenque.

The stones used to build the temples and structures are limestone and over time water breaks it down. I thought this was candle wax dripping down from the ceiling, but they were solid rock "stone-sickles."There are ancient graffiti markings carved into the stone- evidence of early european explorers. Every girl's best friend while traveling- Kranky - chocolate covered corn flakes. And yes, they are a good remedy for krankiness.After our swim in the underground pool, Mark peruses the map while dogs snack on some of our leftovers.When we arrived in Punta Allen, we visited the grocery store and found this classy mural on the side of the building.We spent as much time as we could on the beach at Punta Allen, snorkelling around and diving off the small pier.

Can you spot the well-camouflaged stingray?These little fish were almost undetectable as they swam right under the surface of the water.Tulum.This may have been my favorite place we visited in the Yucatan. If you're looking for a luxury experience in an isolated setting, I recommend Balamku Ecologically Sustainable Resort at Majahual.

Nevermind the roadblock... we just can't get away from these things! At least this one was authorized by the government.The arch at Labna ruins. This shape wasn't very common in the Mayan ruins we saw.Uxmal. Temple of the Magician.Our last week of travel before entering back into the states was spent in Mexico City. Where the shopping comes to you.This is the Bellas Artes, where the Ballet Folklorico would normally perform. The performance hall was being renovated during the time we were there, so we saw the ballet at the Anthropology Museum.Many of Diego Rivera's murals can be found in D.F.n This giant one is in the stairwell at the Governor's Palace off the main plaza or Zócalo.This monument stands in the grasshopper park, Bosque de Chapultepec, in memory of children who threw themselves off the government palace in protest of war. Legend says that each pillar contains the remains of one of the children.Now, we are fans of street food in Latin America. But we were not adventurous enough to try the sushi shack.Sopa Maruchan Instant Lunch- a favorite here in the capital city of Mexico. This is a photo of a picture menu outside a restaurant. Notice the scrumptious microwave popcorn as well.Our last ruin in Mexico for now, we took the bus to the outskirts of the city to visit Teotihuacan. These Aztecan pyramids were constructed in a different manner than the Mayan structures we'd seen in the south. Instead of building completely out of rock, the Aztecs filled this pyramid with dirt. Our timing was right to catch a Costa Rica vs. Mexico futbol game so we got all decked out.Concessions included beer, soda, popcorn, and fried meat sandwiches. There's that soup again!!On our last night, we saw the Ballet Folklorico perform at the Museum of Anthropology. Live music and awesome dancers!This was an artsy bench along the main street near our hotel. The last of many pictures we took in Latin America since we left the Peace Corps 7 months ago.The flight home...

We arrived in the US, not knowing our next official destination. Took the summer to visit friends and family, bought a house in Kalamazoo, Michigan and started the next adventure- getting Mark a Ph.D!

Thank you for reading our blog!

Just a few weeks to go in our travels. It feels a bit strange to be sad over "only" having weeks to go when we know someday soon we will relish having a few weeks off to travel. But still, after six months on the road and over two years out of the US, our travels are at an end.

We are in Mexico now, in the Yucatan Peninsula. I spent a month here nine years ago and have always had fond memories. It is one of those places I swore to myself, "Someday I'll be back..." I guess someday has arrived.

We have visited ruins, swam in cenotes, and snorkeled in the Caribbean. We've had a great time. Some of the places have barely changed in nine years, we've discovered a few new places together, and one of my favorite towns has exploded into a major party destination.

Since Erica's last post we have traveled all of Central America, from Panama to Mexico, overland. Let's backtrack a little...

We arrived into Panama City from Buenos Aires on an afternoon flight. We were a bit sad to be leaving South America, but excited to see Erica's parents in Costa Rica and begin the final leg of our journey.

Flying into Panama was cheaper than flying directly to Costa Rica and since the bus ride between the two was only 15 hours, we figured we would go for it. The actual travel time turned out to be over 24 hours, with an overnight in Panama's second largest city, David. Here is the Panama-Costa Rica border. It was hot, but otherwise uneventful.

We arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica in the evening and went straight to Denny's. This particular Denny's is the same one that we visited the year prior while in Costa Rica for a wedding and the same one I had breakfast at during my long layover from Panama after knee surgery. We would eat there one more time with Erica's parents and I think it now ranks as the "Denny's Location Most Visited" for me. After a night in the capital Erica and I boarded a small plane for a 25 minute flight to the Nicoya Peninsula on the Pacific Coast. There were four of us on the plane and it was full.

Erica's parents had rented a car and they picked us up at the landing strip. It was great to see them again and realize the Costa Rican adventure that lay ahead of us. We spent the next three days on the Pacific Coast in a small surfer town. We took surfing lessons with Erica's dad and were all able to catch some waves. Unfortunately, John had a freak eye accident that prevented him from surfing the next day, but it did give him an unforgettable Latin American doctor experience.

He was walking along a path at the hotel when he thought he got a bug in his eye. He tried to take care of it himself, then Erica helped wash it out. After a few hours his eye was getting worse. Luckily, right across the dirt road was a doctor. We went in, a teenage boy asked us what we needed, shooed the dog off the waiting couch, and told us the doctor would be right in. The Doc spoke perfect English and said he had practiced many years in Texas, his son was his assistant. After a short examination he determined that John had several small cactus spines embedded in the conjunctiva and the white of his eye. Ouch!

With his teenage assistant by his side the flip-flopped Doc put anesthetic drops into John's eye and began probing. He had a powerful magnifying glass through which we could all see the spines in John's eye. Ouch! After a few tense minutes he removed the spines from the white, but announced that he was having trouble in the conjunctiva and would need other tools. At this point he turned around and pulled a plastic sealed hypodermic needle out of a drawer. The fifteen year old held the glass and a light while the Doctor slowly scraped away at the inside of John's lower eyelid. The room was tense and the Doctor had a few harsh words for his assistant. At one point the Doc said to his son, "Si muevas el foco, le quito su ojo!" -- If you move the light, I'll take his eye out. -- While John and Judy have learned some Spanish, Erica and I were grateful that neither of them had studied that particular phrase.

After a few more tense minutes the Doc exhaled and proudly declared success. He had removed all the bits of cactus and had spared John his eye. He fit John with an eye patch, they paid the bill, we said goodbye to the son and dog, and gladly left. We all let out some nervous laughter, and later over drinks we explained the full extent of the Doc-son conversation.

Two days after the Cactus Incident, we left the Pacific for the interior of the country and to the base of the Arenal Volcano. We spent the next four days marveling at the active volcano. We stayed in an observatory lodge built by the Smithsonian Society for scientific research. Each night we were treated to displays of red hot rocks tumbling down the mountain and could hear explosions all day. We were also able to see many cool birds, coatimundi, and monkeys. There were hot springs in the area and did a zip-line tour through the jungle canopy. We also happened to be there on Superbowl Sunday and I watched the game on a big screen while Arenal Volcano erupted in the background.

A kinkajou eating breakfast.

From the interior we went to the Caribbean coast for our last few days. There was a storm just beginning and our four hour drive was delayed by a truck crash and a washed out bridge. We made it to the coast in around ten hours. The rain did not let up while we at the coast and we ended up leaving one day early due to flooding. On our way out of town two large trees fell and blocked the road. We were the second car on the scene and all four of us got and helped to clear the road. We had to stand in thigh high water and avoid the fallen telephone wires. I asked John if he thought this was dangerous, he replied, "Yes, so hurry." We did and soon we were on our way back to San Jose.

Erica's parents flew home two days later. We were sad to see them go but felt very satisfied with a fun, adventure filled two weeks together.

Erica and I spent two more days in San Jose before boarding a bus for Nicaragua. We had heard good stories of Nicaragua and were intrigued by its lower profile compared to Costa Rica. We had an easy day's bus ride into Nicaragua and crossed the border with no problems.

Our destination was Lago Ometepe -- a double volcanic island in the center of the largest lake in Central America. Lago Nicaragua was once a Pacific Ocean bay but volcanic eruptions over time created a small barrier from the sea. It is the only lake in the world with true freshwater sharks.

After a night in transfer we arrived on the Island and found a locally owned coffee plantation where we could pitch our tent for $3 a day. We rode a small ferry to reach the volcanic island.

Due to recent storms the lake's water level was very high and most of the beaches were underwater. We did find this cool tree though.

Leaving from just behind our campsite were trails leading up the volcano. One afternoon I set out to make an attempt at the 4,500 ft peak. The trail was steep and in dense jungle, about halfway up was this clearing at a small mirador.

Looming in the distance is the larger of the two island's volcanoes.

The trail went back into the jungle and became very muddy. It was already late in the afternoon and I was not making good time. I hiked up for another hour or so, then decided to turn around. I had brought a headlamp along, but decided I really was not up for a jungle night hike.So in order to go on with the rest of the island story, I need to give an update to my graduate school application process.

The process of applying to graduate school is long and tedious, with bursts of frantic moments. Keeping track of deadlines and checklists are not my strongest skills so I was a bit disorganized during the process. I am sure I would have had some similar experiences had I applied from the comforts of the USA, but we were not there. I would generally NOT recommend applying to graduate school while traveling around Argentina, taking the GRE tests in a foreign country, spending a month in a tent, hitchhiking, using internet cafes, calling from public phones, and storing all important documents inside a backpack with dirty clothes. Despite these extra challenges, I met the deadlines for five schools. I applied to Master's in Counseling programs at University of Oregon, Boston College, and New York University, and I applied to PhD programs in Counseling Psychology at University of Miami and Western Michigan University.

One of our first days in Costa Rica, while at Denny's for dinner (no, really) I found out that I was an alternate for an interview for the Miami program. Bummer. Then a few days later, checking my email on the beach after a surf lesson, I found out I had been granted an interview for the PhD at WMU. I was overjoyed. Applying for a PhD was intimidating for me since I do not have a MA degree and my undergraduate GPA was not so great. But, I counted on my teaching and PC experience, my GRE scores, and my Spanish ability to make up for weak points. It was Jan 28 and the interview was scheduled for Feb 20.

We celebrated and then I began looking at flights to Michigan and the best way to get to Kalamazoo, where WMU is located. We decided the cheapest option would be to fly out of Managua, Nicaragua into Detroit, rent a car and make the two hour drive into Kalamazoo. I was going to stay with a current doctoral student and arrive a few days early to visit a barber and a Men's Wearhouse. I hadn't wore a tie or dress shoes in over two years at this point.

So, back to the volcanic island... In the weeks leading up to the interview I had to submit funding requests. I wrote grant applications from the porch of the coffee plantation with a view of the lake and the volcano. In the afternoon when the electricity was on, I used one of the two plantation computers to upload and email my money requests to the university. I also took breaks to nap in the hammocks.

So with my grant application submitted Erica and I caught the ferry on Saturday Feb 14. My flight was not until Monday morning from Managua, but we know how travel in Latin America can be sometimes. We decided that Erica would wait for me on the island while I went to Michigan and back. Here are pictures of us on the ferry back to the mainland and the last picture of my lovely beard.

I arrived late Saturday night in Managua and spent Sunday seeing the sights of Nicaragua's capitol city. The city center has been rocked by earthquakes over the past 150 years and was mostly abandoned after a massive 1972 quake. The result is a capitol city unlike other Latin American capitols in that it lacks a main central plaza and central market. Instead, small neighborhoods each have their plazas and markets. The National Cathedral was badly damaged and the government decided to leave it as a monument. The clock towers are frozen to the time of the quake.

The National Palace of Culture was not as badly damaged and the government decided to restore the buillding.

A few blocks away is this monument to the people. The man holds a picaxe in one hand and a flag wrapped rifle in the other, the inscription translates as, "Only the workers and peasants will go to the end."

I left Managua early Monday morning on a flight to Detroit with a connection in Houston. It would be my second time in the United States since we left in January of 2007, and the first time since flying home for the funeral of my brother. I was filled with emotion as the plane took off, and then again as we touched down in Houston. It was strange to be around so many tourists on the plane -- mostly older folks who had come to Nicaragua to spend time on the Caribbean islands and fish or dive. The people sitting next to me asked me in broken Spanish if I was Nicaraguan. They were from Cleveland. I arrived in Detroit late Monday, picked up my rental car, and checked into a Super 8. The next morning I made the drive over to Kalamazoo. I had never been to Michigan and had only driven a car once in two years. I was in quite a shock with the cold and the snow.

I spent Tuesday in a Kalamazoo hotel and visited a barber and a Men's Wearhouse. I must say both places took good care of me and helped me feel comfortable. On Wednesday I met my host student - Raymond - and stayed the next few days with him. He was a great resource for information about the program and helped boost my confidence. On Thursday I attended a social with current students and the other interviewees, then Friday was my big day. I think I cleaned up pretty well and even I had a hard time believing I had recently spent a month in a tent.

My stress levels came down as I spent time in Kalamazoo reading, writing, and reflecting on my choices and opportunities. Raymond helped me think about my non-master's status in a different way. There were 28 interviewees for 8 spots, 26 already had master's degrees. He said while everyone would be trying to one-up each other regarding their MA programs, no one would have anything to say to compete with my Peace Corps experience. There were no other interviewees with teaching experience and no one else was bilingual.Friday consisted of four 30-minute group interviews, one 30-minute individual interview, and then an hour full group "social." I was on my game and did the best that I could. I felt I made connections with the professors and had strong answers and asked good questions. I felt especially good about my individual interview. Back in November from Buenos Aires I had sent emails to professors I was interested working with at each of the schools to which I was applying. The WMU professor I corresponded with happened to be on an island off of Guam completing research while we exchanged emails. He remembered me and was the professor who conducted my individual interview. I left Kalamazoo later that evening, exhausted, but confident. I was told all interviewees would be called in the next two weeks to inform them of their status. The next day I returned my car and boarded a plane back for Nicaragua.

One day after arriving in Managua, Erica and I met up in a small colonial town in the center of the country, Granada. We spent one night there and then moved on to Honduras. Here is a picture of a smoking Nicaraguan volcano taken from the bus window.

We had an easy bus ride and border crossing and arrived in the Honduran capitol of Tegucigalpa. We spent one night there and were able to visit with our friend and former PC Bolivia volunteer Tim. When we were evacuated Tim was one of the few people who decided to transfer to another country. He signed up for one more year of service in Honduras. Erica and I left on an afternoon bus for the north of the country and the beginning of the former Mayan lands. We spent one night in San Pedro Sula, then left on a morning bus for the town on Copan Ruinas, which is a only a few km from the Mayan ruins of Copan.There were a half dozen Guacamayos, or Scarlet Macaw.

Experts say Copan was the Paris of the Mayan culture. The city was known for its art and carvings. The site was beautiful and there were not too many people there. Here are some examples of the carvings.

Erica mimicking the pose of the Jaguar God.The most famous structure of Copan is the Hieroglyphic Staircase. It is the longest such carved structure in the Mayan world and tells the story of the rise of Copan. At the base is a massive carving of the king who commissioned the staircase.

Like other Mayan sites, Copan has a ballcourt. I imagined playing a game of tag football.

Back in the modern town of Copan Ruinas we could feel the influence of Mexico and found our first street taco stand. Ahhh, so good.

On our last night in Copan Ruinas I received an email from Western Michigan.... I was their first alternate. I was disappointed, but grateful to still be in the running for a spot. Erica was very supportive and encouraging by helping me realize that in a sense I had met their criteria, but there were just not enough spots. We were both a little frustrated that we would have to continue waiting. The top 8 people have until April 15 to accept or decline their offer. So I need just one person to accept an offer to a different university. We're keeping hope alive!

The next morning we boarded a small shuttle for an 8 hour ride to Antigua, Guatemala. Again, the border crossing was very mellow.

Our destination in Guatemala was Lago Atitlan, in the western highlands of the country. We spent one night in the hip colonial town of Antigua then got on an older bus for the five hour ride to the Lake. This time our luck of easy bus rides ran out. About two hours into the ride the bus began spewing smoke and making a horrible sound as we climbed a hill. A few minutes later we were stopped on the side of the road unloading our luggage. There were many tourists on the bus and most took the breakdown quite well.

We waited about 15 minutes and then an even older bus, already packed with locals pulled over for us to get on. This time some of the other tourists were not so amused with the lack of personal space. We were packed three to a seat, can you see me in the second to last row?

One of Erica's seatmates.

The three hour cramped ride was well worth it as we arrived at Lago Atitlan. The lake is surrounded my small communities and volcanoes. The beauty was difficult to capture on film, but here are two attempts.

Erica and I spent four days in a small community called San Marcos la Laguna. It was about a 40 minute ride in a small boat from the main town of Panajachel. San Marcos has become known as a New Age kinda place. We joined a yoga group each morning at 7am and participated in a group meditation sessions. We also had massages and spent time reading and writing. On our third day there I received notification from New York University that I had been accepted into the MA program in Mental Health Counseling. Yeah! We celebrated that night by playing music on the beach. Soon a local family came to wash and swim in the lake. The children were very curious about us and we gave them a turn with the guitar and harmonica.

We left Atitlan and headed for the northern part of the country, the town of Flores, and the massive ruins of Tikal. We had a 14 hour overnight bus ride that turned out to be one of the most uncomfortable rides for me of all our travels. The seats did not recline enough and I just could not find a suitable sleeping position. I think I slept about four hours and arrived in Flores feeling very stiff.We knew the ruins were very large and popular, so we decided to camp once again in order to have access to the park in the early morning and late afternoon. We pitched our tent about 300 yards from the park's entrance.

The ruins were amazing. Tikal is the largest of the Mayan sites and has temples surrounded my dense forest. In the mornings we could see and hear monkeys, coatimundi, the large rodent agouti, and the huge bird the great curassow. Again, the beauty of the park was hard to capture on film, but here are a few attempts.

Recognize this scene from the Star Wars Trilogy?

After three days in at Tikal we departed for Chiapas, Mexico. This time our journey would be an 8 hour minivan-boat-minivan trip. Surprisingly, the trip and border crossing was very easy. Here we are on the small boat on the river separating Guatemala and Mexico.

We stayed in the town of Palenque and visited the nearby jungle ruins. Although smaller than Tikal, the jungle setting was impressive and provided a beautiful backdrop to the white temples.

From southern Mexico we rode a bus to the Yucatan Peninsula town of Merida. In Merida we rented a small car and spent the next eleven days exploring the peninsula. We split our time between small and larger ruins, and beach towns. Before setting out we stopped at a Wal-Mart and bought rice, beans, and tortillas to make lunch. One of the smaller ruins, Dzbilchaltun.

The Yucutan Peninsula has no above ground rivers due to its makeup of porous limestone. Water seeps through the earth and flows underground and occasionally causes a sinkhole. Where there is water under the hole it is known as a cenote. The Mayans used these cenotes for drinking, washing, and irrigation. In some sites, such as Chichen Itza, they also used them for ceremonial and religious purposes. Dzbilchatun had a swimmable cenote that we took advantage of after climbing around the ruins in the hot sun.

In a small town enjoying a cerveza.

Our second day of visiting Mayan ruins brought us to the large site Chichen Itza. The main attraction is the large Kulkukan pyramid, named for the Mayan feathered-serpent god.

Doing my best serpent impression.

The Great Ball Court.

Palace of the Nuns.

The Observatory.

Leaving Chichen Itza we went to another place I'd vowed to return to almost ten years ago. In a small town about 30 minutes from the ruins is a special cenote. This swim hole is underground in a cave. The limestone has eroded away, but the roof remains intact. There is an opening in the ceiling where light comes through and around noon lets in a brilliant bean of light. There were cool rock formations, tree roots hanging from above, and catfish swimming around. We were lucky to have the cave almost all to ourselves.

Erica and I in the beam of light.

The next day we visited the smaller ruins of Ek Balam.

We saw this man, Martin, carving wood into the shape of Kulkukan. He told us it takes him about three days to make each piece. We bought a small carving for 50 pesos.

We left the interior of the Peninsula and drove for the Caribbean Coast. Cancun was an evening stopover for dinner and then we drove south to Playa de Carmen. Nine years ago Playa de Carmen was a quiet town that was just being developed. Today it is a major spring break destination and party stop. We were disappointed with the new vibe of the town and the amount of people there. We only spent one day in Playa de Carmen before driving further south for the smaller villages of Punta Alen and then Majahual.

In Majahual, about 1 hour north of the Belize border, we found what we were looking for. We spent four nights in a 10 room lodge right on the sea. The lodge provided use of kayaks to access a coral reef a few hundred yards out. We went out each day and snorkeled, sometimes twice a day. The coral and fish were amazing and on our last day we say six large tuna that freaked us out.

Sunrise over the Caribbean.

Yoga at sunrise.

While in Majahual we received an email from Boston College notifying me that I had been accepted into their MA program in Mental Health Counseling. Yeah!! We were very happy to now have options and excited to be able to choose between BC and NYU. So we are now in Mexico City enjoying the last few days of our Latin American Adventure. We have eaten many tacos, climbed the Pyramids, seen Diego Rivera murals, and are attending a World Cup soccer game tomorrow and the ballet on Sunday. In three days we fly into LAX and begin a new adventure. We are still hopeful WMU will move me up on the list, but are happy with the options of New York or Boston. Stay tuned to find out where we choose to go.Hasta luego,Marcos

Ok, maybe I`m not a control FREAK, but I am very aware of how all this traveling has stretched my understanding of what I am capable of controlling.

Now why, all of a sudden am I getting all reflective? Partially because the end of our travelling is drawing near, and mostly because I've got lots of time on my hands. Idle time to read, write in my journal, play a bunch of new songs I've learned on the guitar. Mark is in Michigan for a grad school interview and will be back in a week. Meanwhile, I'm camping on the back porch of a whitewashed farm house on a cooperative coffee farm on an island in the big lake in Nicaragua. It sounds so ridiculous to write it out, but it's true. The staff here are already so accustomed to my presence that my salad at dinner last night arrived with beets on it selectively arranged to spell my name. Many people come here to only stay a few nights. Anyways, I apologize if I address stories and thoughts that have already appeared in other entries- this process is very cyclic and spiraling all over in my brain. Mark is lucky he's not here or he'd get quite an earful of all this. Better to just write it down than to corner some poor stranger staying here who probably just wants to relax.

So all this time, especially without Mark, is giving me some space and time, like a retreat, to reflect on the last two years and transition into the next big adventure- coming home. Something that I've really noticed about myself is this almost neurotic focus on controlling, or at least having the illusion of controlling, my life. A large portion of my life before leaving for the Peace Corps was centered around on my ability to make lists, plan efficient errand trips, and generally know the expected outcome or consequence of my actions. And man, was I good at all that. I love to compartmentalize things, both physically in my environment and mentally. The simple action of crossing something off of a list dramatically and positively affects my brain chemistry. It sounds a little robot-like now that I write about it. Still, it felt safe and lowered my anxiety about not really knowing the future. It certainly helped that the US is set up in a way that you do have a fighting chance of knowing when a bus might be leaving for somewhere, whether or not a meeting is really going to occur the day that it was scheduled, and there's the underrated assumption that there will be electricity and running water ALL DAY.

Little did I know when we left the United States that I would be relinquishing most of my well-established structure for maintaining my perceived control over life.

It became clear to me early in our service, even during training, how accustomed I was to running my own life. Mark and I shared a single room in a host family's house and attending training sessions 5 days a week and rarely got to pick what we were eating. Meanwhile, we didn't know where we'd be placed for the remaining 24 months of our service until about 2 weeks before we went there. Of course, I couldn't have really comprehended what we were in for, even if I had found out the name of our town at the beginning of our training.

That all feels like it happened an era ago, and I guess that's an interesting way to put it. Perhaps the era of me needing to be in control all the time has passed. Sure, every once in a while when I'm tired, hungry, or seasick I may get angry about things not going as I planned. But for the most part it's become almost comical how often things don't unravel the way I imagine they will. What a joke that I really thought I could do anything about the future. And I don't mean that in a helpless, sad way. It's like the illusion is revealed and I think it's funny how gullible I was for believing in it.

Some of the more recent events have given me opportunities to let go. I'm not going to claim that these things didn't stress me out, but that I was able to function without these things being resolved immediately. The first one that comes to mind is the whole Roque drama, which ensued relatively soon after we got him. He came to us within two weeks of the official disappearance of Salta, and two weeks later, Mark was flown to Panama for his knee surgery. We took care of ourselves by defiantly smuggling him into the resort where our first consolidation took place because we couldn't imagine abandoning him and just couldn't comply with Peace Corps rule that animals weren't evacuatable. We also brought him along to Cochabamba on our final trip as Volunteers only to have to leave him with a PC employee. It's a little cloudy in my memory at this point, because plans were changing almost hourly, but I think we left for Peru thinking that Roque would be brought to the US by that employee. Unfortunately the veterinary paperwork didn't come through in time, and we were forced to come up with another plan. We picked him up and brought him to Tarija, and then made the grand plan to take him home ourselves after another courier plan fell through. Two years ago, the making and breaking of so many plans in a short amount of time would have been devastating. But it just felt so typical of our experience at that point that it wouldn't work out as planned. So of course, I never expected his story with us to end as it did. Looking at some pictures and videos of Roque recently while visiting with my parents, I found that I still have some raw emotions about losing him at the airport. Rationally I know that I did everything I could to find him, but there's a mean little voice in the back of my head that says it was my fault for not putting cable ties on the door of his crate. Hindsight is a jerk, ¿no ve?

The next ongoing drama was with our passports. Where to start? I guess it all began when we visited the US Embassy in Lima, Peru to submit our personal passports for renewal. We were told it would take about 6 days, but we didn´t like the feel of Lima enough to stick around, and it was SO obvious at the time that we would pass through there again, it being a major airline travel hub in South America. If only we'd just waited to pick them up, or waited to renew them in Argentina where we spent almost 3 months?! There`s that jerk again. Of course, it all worked out. The passports didn`t arrive in Buenos Aires in time for us to use them to get to Costa Rica, so we had to apply for emergency passports at the BA Embassy. Mercifully, we were not charged for them because we had waited patiently for the diplomatic pouch to make it`s expected trip from Lima to Buenos Aires. When they DO arrive in Buenos Aires, the Vice Consul will forward them to our home address.

The newest and currently unresolved test is this whole "Where are we going to live?" thing. Mostly out of our hands at this point. Waiting to hear back from grad schools, for Mark to study Counseling Psychology. The options are Western Michigan University, Boston College, and NYU. We should hear from these schools by April 15, so in the meantime I get to practice letting go of my somewhat neurotic need to make plans.

We spent way more time in Argentina than we ever imagined, and here are some of the delicacies we encountered during our time there: meatballs that almost lived up to their name, and a brand of chips whose name I never learned to speak out loud without giggling like a 13-year old.

Picking up where I left off from my last entry, we took a bus from Puerto Iguazú to Concordia, the border of Argentina and Uruguay. The bus company said we'd be dropped off at the access road to the town with a gas station and taxi stand, but the reality was that we were dropped off in the middle of nowhere. We had to walk for close to an hour with all of our luggage until we found a city bus stop to ride into town. Luckily there was a break in the rain while we were walking. This picture of Mark was taken at around 6:30am before we started walking. After a quick brunch in Concordia, we took a bus to Salto, Uruguay where we spent a night and then stayed at the Daymán hot springs outside of town. We treated ourselves to a nice hotel room down the street from the "termas" and visited it each day. The pools were hot, especially after I got sunburned the first day, but it was nice to take in some sun and soak in the warm, clear water.

Mark and I noticed immediately upon arrival in Uruguay the ubiquity of the yierba mate drinking. Everyone carries around their gourd, specialized filtering straw and thermos of hot water, which could be refilled in most public places for free. Mark got used to drinking it hot, but I preferred to drink my mate with cool water, especially since the weather was pleasantly warm.

We wanted to go to the beach, and had heard about an alternative to the expensive, touristy Punta del Este. Punta del Diablo, situated on the northeast coast of Uruguay near the Brazilian border, was said to be a calm little fishing village with very few foreigners (besides the Argentinians). So we took a bus from Salto to Montevideo, stayed in a pretty crappy room at the "Hotel Ideal" and got out of there as soon as we woke up the next morning. The bus ride to Punta del Diablo went along the coast of Uruguay on paved roads so it was pretty easy compared to some of our other bus experiences. When we arrived, we searched out the hostel there, named El Diablo Tranquilo, which is certainly was not. They only had two twin beds available in a 10-person dorm room with shared bathrooms and was loud and English-speaking. We were looking for a place with a little more privacy, so we left our big bags and went to see what else was available in town. Only a few blocks away we ran into a place advertising Cabanas for rent and inquired about it. The man told us he was doing maintenance on his, but that a friend down the road had vacancies. He took us down to meet Fernando and we booked a two story cottage for less than the cost of the hostel's two twin beds.

Here´s the view from the main fishing harbor in Punta del Diablo:

Here's where we bought most of our groceries, since we had a full kitchen in the rented cottage.

I snapped this photo on the bus ride from Punta del Diablo back to Montevideo. Our last stop would be in Colonia del Sacramento before we took the ferry back to Buenos Aires.

Another ridiculous sunset, this one in particular from the roof of a restaurant in Colonia del Sacramento. We had to get up super early to catch the ferry to Buenos Aires. It was a huge ship with breakfast service and televisions installed. The trip took around 2 hours and we arrived in Buenos Aires just after dawn.

We had booked ourselves a hostel room in Buenos Aires over the internet so that we wouldn`t have to think much upon arrival there. So we headed to the hostel, stored our stuff in the provided room until check in and headed out to find breakfast. We met a cat that lived in a liquor store just down the street. Super friendly and was totally calm in spite of the passing buses and taxis. He was a drooler, if you pet him for long enough, and would hop up on your lap almost immediately if you sat down on the sidewalk. The hostel scene got old pretty quick since we ended up having the same conversation over and over again with different people. I got tired of overhearing people say, "So, where have you been traveling? Well, I`ve been here and there and I just HATED Bolivia... ugh, what an ugly place. I was there for like 4 days and I just couldn't STAND it!" All I could think was that if they´d given it more than 4 days they might have come to at least respect Bolivia, if not love it. Most of the people staying there were happy with hanging out in the hostel bar for most of the day or going on trips organized through the hostel. Such as "Museum Tour and Happy Hour, every Wednesday from 4pm pm to 2am. I guess it`s set up for college aged singles, so I didn`t take it too personally that we didn`t fit in.

We had dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant in Barrio Chino, just a short train ride from the city center. Here's some graffiti I'd seen from the train and persuaded Mark to let me sneak onto the tracks to snap a shot.

One night in Buenos Aires we attended a city-wide event called Noche de los Museos. There were so many events to pick from it was pretty hard to do so. We ended up only going to two, but they were entertaining. First we took the subway to the end of the line and walked out to a museum hosting a live musical performance of the soundtrack to the film Metropolis. They were projecting the film onto a big screen and the musicians, five or so, were playing from the roof top terrace of the museum. There must have been around 5,000 people or so, just standing around to watch and listen, some sitting on the grass median. After that was over we headed over to a tiny museum of puppetry and got in line for the next performance. After waiting for 30 minutes in a room with a bunch of people with a much more constricted sense of personal space than mine, we were able to get two of the last few seats in the narrow theatre. It turned out to be a one man show lasting about 15 minutes. The performer was in full view manipulating a large doll with the likeness of an older Argentinian gentleman. Acted out him waking up on a park bench, half/drunk, and interacted with the audience by playing a small guitar. There was no speaking or sound effects, only the pre/recorded music soundtrack. It felt super artsy, but we felt a little cheated on time. In the end we just had to remind ourselves how cool it was that this was all free.

One of our last days in Buenos Aires, we realized that we hadn`t done many touristy things, so we set out to visit the Recoleta cemetery, partially known for the fact that it is where the Peròn family vault is maintained, including the grave of Argentina´s beloved Evita. The scale of this place was incredible. A spooky place where the family vaults were kept within a wide range of maintenance and care. While we were wandering around and visiting the resident cats who seemed to be holding vigil over their previous masters' tombs, we met an Argentinian who spoke impeccable English. Charles the crypt-keeper,I thought of him as. He explained how he was there that day to make sure he still had a valid key for the vault because a distant cousin had recently passed away and had wished to be included in the family`s plot. Most of the vaults had newer coffins on display at the ground level and then had a narrow set of stairs descending into the darkness where decaying boxes and dusty urns were stored. Charles was a little annoyed that the cousin wished to be stored there since she was a protestant and the vault was supposed to only be for the Catholic members of the family. We followed him as he wandered around trying to find the vault and eventually he came to it. Mark and I both had thought that maybe he'd let us in to see it, but he just checked the lock and closed it up again. The doorjam seemed to be broken but none of us could fix it so I`m not sure he really locked it up securely

This was an eerie sculpture we passed on the corner of one of the many aisles leading to more vaults.This is the Argentinian equivalent of the white house. The place where Eva Peròn made some famous speeches to the crowds below. It is called the Casa Rosada (pink house) but I thought it came across more like rust or mauve.

When we finally determined that it would be too complicated and expensive to have our passports DHL-ed from Lima to Buenos Aires, we requested that the Embassy in Lima send our passports via diplomatic pouch to the Embassy in Buenos Aires. We were told that it usually takes 3 weeks to arrive. We still had 5 weeks in Argentina until we needed to head up to Costa Rica to meet up with my parents, so we planned to travel in Southern Argentina until the passports arrived. That afternoon we booked flights to the southernmost city in Argentina and in the world, Ushuaia.

We happened upon this sticker affixed to a post while we were walking around town. "If he comes, I strike"

In Ushuaia we began what would become the ¨great camping adventure¨ segment of our trip. We camped for two weeks at the base of a ski run. Strangely enough, the animals to a liking to us right away. There was a dog who looked spookily similar to a young Luna named Suya (more like soozcha with the Argentinian "y"), a calico cat whose name we never learned, and an old white wolf named Sally. Sally and the cat sleep together at night in this sweet house.

Here are Mark and Suya in our campsite. We tried really hard not to feed her or get her used to hanging out with us, but she liked us anyways.

On Christmas Eve, we were invited to join other campers for an Argentinian style barbecue. They basically cut down a tree and burned it until it became coals, then lined up a couple grills that could have been double mattress sized box springs. Then they cut up a bunch of chicken and lamb and grilled it. It was also pot luck style so we ate piroshki, teriyaki chicken, and toasted bread with butter. I brought out my guitar and played and passed it around. A French dude made up an international song about Ushuaia that got stuck in all of our heads for days afterwards. The lyrics go:

Ush-u-ai-a

¿Donde está?

Ush-u-ai-a

tu est tan bas (combined french/spanish for 'you are very low/south')

Followed by way too much wine and vodka tang. Ouch. Mark and I vowed to never spend another Christmas Eve drinking that much because it lead to us sleeping through most of Christmas Day. Still, it had been fun to be a part of the group that night.

Here`s how sheep meat is displayed at the supermarket. Ugh. I guess I`ll never get used to this.

Initially we came to Ushuaia to investigate the possibility of going to Antarctica. But it didn`t take much investigation to discover that it was way beyond our budget for now. Instead, we will save $50 each month until our children graduate from college and then we`ll treat ourselves to an Antarctic cruise expedition. Once we knew Antarctica was out of the question I started feeling like the end of our travels got much closer. Ridiculous, considering that we still had months left at that point. The weather was pretty nasty in Ushuaia, cold and either raining or snowing most of the time. We had a couple days of sun and I took the opportunity to make a campfire in our site, which made it a lot more cozy. I had done some incorrect math and purchased a zero-degree sleeping bag in Buenos Aires. Didn't make the connection that the bag was so compressible and that zero degrees celsius is 32 degrees Fahrenheit. So I ended up having to wear most of my fleece clothing inside my bag and any time Mark was out of the tent I`d get inside both of our bags. Meanwhile, Mark was sweating away in just his boxers (mind you, he's a warm sleeper just about anywhere and he`s got the right type of zero degree bag).

With the hiking areas we wanted to visit being shrouded in clouds every day, we waited for a break in the weather to do some backcountry camping. Since we were so far south and it was summer, the sun came up around 4:30am and didn´t set until around 10:30pm. Even then it never seemed fully nighttime because the sun was hovering just below the horizon. With all that daylight, it still didn't ever work out to go camping because of the rain and snow. We did take a day hike to the Martial Glacier, which loomed up behind our campsite at the ski lodge. During that hike we had to take a bunch of imaginary pictures because we had the camera with us but had left the battery in the charger plugged in at the lodge. I think we were a little over-prepared for the hike, since most people making the ascent were doing so on the ski lift. Many women were dressed up in skirts and leggings tucked into inappropriate stiletto boots, and there were kids in shorts and jeans. It was cold and I wore my rain gear and snowboarding gloves and was cold when we stopped. On our way up, a mother with three grown boys asked if she could borrow Mark`s trekking poles so that she could look hard core in a picture they took together. We were way out of their league, not to be too snobby. We hiked up and wandered around in the snow and headed down once we started getting cold again. On the way back down, we had an amazing view of the entire town of Ushuaia surrounded by the Beagle Channel, named after Darwin´s ship.

After 14 nights in our tent, we finally decided we'd had enough of Ushuaia's weather. We headed out, following the advice of a Kiwi (New Zealander) couple that hitchhiking was legal, safe, quick, and cheap. So we took a taxi to the edge of town where the one road heads north and within about 5 minutes I had thumbbed our first ride. Don't I make this look good?

The term for hitchhiking in Spanish is to "hacer dedo" or make finger. We got a ride from Ushuaia to Rio Grande with a couple of airline employees in a warm, clean sedan. As the older man in the passenger seat micromanaged the young driver's technique, he asked us questions and told us that the airport in Ushuaia was closed due to a radar problem. All air traffic was being diverted to Rio Grande and the passengers were put on buses for the remainder of their trip south. These guys were headed to pick up a co-worker in Rio Grande so that she wouldn't have to take the bus. We stopped at a gas station for snacks and the man bought us a Pepsi to share and each our own Alfajor. This is a treat we've only seen in Argentina. Essentially it's a giant fancy sandwich cookie. There are many different brands and flavors and after being introduced to them I thoroughly enjoyed sampling the entire range. When we got to Rio Grande we ate a quick salami sandwich made from food we were travelling with, and then tried to flag down another ride. We didn`t have much luck so decided to take a taxi to the egde of town where all the cars would be heading north. Again, we didn`t have much luck and were entertaining thoughts of pitching our tents in the windy wasteland. We did an experiment with the wind and were able to get Mark´s harmonica to play just by holding it up right in the rushing air. I went to inquire about local hostels and Mark got us a ride with a guy up to San Sebastian on the border with Chile. I slept during this leg and Mark took one for the team and chatted in Spanish with the driver the whole way. This man was so generous that he drove us a little farther than he needed to go just to make sure we`d be near a restaurant and hotel since it was getting late. And that`s about all San Sebastian was: a restaurant, a hotel, and a “waiting room.” The waiting room seemed really nice to us at first- it was heated and had restrooms and a sink and gas range. We discussed staying there that night while we ate hamburgers at the restaurant and then I mentioned dying of carbon monoxide poisoning if the pilot light blew out on the heater in the waiting room. Luckily, we didn´t have to sleep there because we were offered a ride to Rio Gallegos as we left the restaurant. I had made a small spectacle of myself when I went to put on my large backpack in the restaurant- I lost my balance and slowly fell from my knees onto my head, more or less. It didn´t hurt but was a little embarassing. A truck driver who had witnessed my fall approached us as we lugged our things back to the waiting room and offered us a ride to Rio Gallegos. We gladly accepted, having avoided death by CO poisoning and soon learned that his name was Marcos. He liked to talk. He was 25 years old and spent a decent amount of time text-messaging back and forth with his 14-year-old girlfriend in Bahia Blanca who was pregnant. He chain smoked after every major event on the road, stopped to make us dinner with his gas stove and canned soup with parmesan cheese and orange drink mix, and finally allowed us to sleep in the cab when we got to a ferry crossing that was closed for the night. Our bed-cave was slightly more narrow than a twin mattress and was suspended over the real bed behind the seats in the cab. I was smashed against the back wall and the only thing that kept Mark from falling out of the bed-cave was a bar that would have caught under his chin. So say the least, it was a tough night for us at the ferry point on the Strait of Magellan.

Above are the two Marcoses the next day, crossing back into Argentina from Chile. We were worried that the Peace Corps had somehow canceled our passports since we were 90 days past our post-service allowance, but Chilean immigration turned out to not be a problem. Did you know that passports can only be cancelled by the state department if they physically have the passports in their hands? I didn´t. By the time we arrived in Rio Gallegos we were both exhausted, partially from the horrible night´s sleep but also because the driver talked A LOT and was a little loco. About 30 minutes before we arrived, Marcos the driver pulled out a portable DVD player and selected a movie for us to watch from the dashboard... all while he was still driving. It was a good thing there wasn´t anything to run into- the landscape was pretty desolate- because Marcos must have spent about half of the trip with his hands on the steering wheel. The rest of the time he was smoking cigarettes, text messaging his girlfriend, changing the horrible argentinian music, or gesturing wildly to accentuate his stories.

We entertained the idea of hitchhiking from Rio Gallegos to El Calafate, but decided that enough was enough. We took the bus for 45 pesos each, roughly 15 dollars. Money well spent.

We were pretty worn out when we reached El Calafate and were hit with a little bit of culture shock. Although we were able to find a decent place to camp by a little creek, we were shocked at how touristy this area was. We spent most of our time in the campsite- cooking, doing laundry, and reading- and otherwise only went in to the main part of town if we really had to. The storefronts on the main tourist street were all embellished to be made to look like they were log cabins, which created a surreal disneyland feel. We found a couple places to eat that were cost effective, but everything else was so overpriced compared to what we were used to. Here´s a little treat we found on the main street: Note that we were 12,182 kilometers from San Francisco at this point.

The main reason why people come to El Calafate is because it´s a jumping off point to visit the Glacier Perito Moreno. It's named after the man who basically started the national park movement in Patagonia. The views of the glacier made it all worthwhile to deal with the somewhat corrupted little tourist town. Of course, it cost a lot to take the 1-hour bus ride out to the glacier, but here´s what we got to see:

We paid a little extra to take a short boat tour that got us right up next to the glacier- not so close that you could touch it or have it calve onto our boat, but close enough to hear the crackling sounds. After that, the bus took us to the visitor´s center, from where we walked down on a series of metal catwalks to get close to another part of the glacier. It was mesmorizing to just stand there, listen, and watch for pieces of ice to fall into the lake. Even though this glacier was ¨calving¨ or falling apart, it is one of the few glaciers in the world that is actually growing over time.

After visiting the glacier perito moreno, we made dinner at camp and went to bed early so that we could catch an early bus to El Chalten. We arrived in El Chalten later in the morning and spent the early afternoon getting ready for our first trek into the Fitz Roy wilderness. The weather was clear and warm, which is rare according to the park rangers. Now I've known for a while that my sense of humor is not for everyone, but it has become even more clear that my sense of humor does not translate into Spanish. No hay sarcasm aqui. When we were cooking lunch and repacking for our trip at the free campsite in El Chalten, a burly ranger came through to make sure everyone was registered. We told him that we weren't planning to camp there, that we'd be heading out shortly. He said ok and was on his way to check other campers when I thoughtlessly made as though I was talking in his voice and said "so get out of here" in Spanish. I'd meant to imply that that's what he was thinking about us, that we needed to get moving if we weren't going to camp there. But he thought that I was literally telling him to leave (not a big stretch, is it?). He turned rather violently to face me a practically roared "¡¿Que?!" and I had to meagerly explain that I was just trying to make a joke. He frowned and looked at me sideways as he went on his way. I don't think I've ever been more scared of someone in my life. I'm not sure that I totally learned my lesson about keeping a lid on trying to be funny, but it certainly brought it to my attention.

So after planning our meals, lightening our backpacks by setting aside things to be left at the luggage storage of a hostal, and walking about 5 miles around town to get that all done, we headed out for Laguna Capri, our first campsite. Along the way, there were signs to help teach people about the Leave No Trace approach with which they're trying to run the park. Pack it out!

We arrived at the lake right before dusk and were able to set up our tent and snap this picture before it got dark. We made some soup from scratch, which took a while, and went straight to sleep after eating it.

In the morning, we woke up to this view... the largest peak is Mount Fitz Roy, a climb popular with people way more hard-core than us. I'm pretty sure this is the mountain range that inspired the Patagonia gear logo.

Mark meditated by the lake while I tried to capture the view with my pencils and paper, then we headed out for our next campsite at Poincerot. On the way there, Mark snapped this shot of me which still looks unreal to me even though I was there... no photoshopping, I swear!

From our campsite at Poincerot, we set out after lunch up the mountain to Laguna de los Tres. It was a pretty steep hike but not for that long. It was pretty cold at the lake, so we didn't stay long.

We didn't plan to visit nearby Lago Sucio but people along the trail highly recommended it. The name was pretty awesomely ironic, meaning dirty lake. If it were my job, I would probably have named it after some crayola crayon color like Aquamarine Lake or Robin´s Egg Blue Lake or Magic Mint Lake.The next day, we took a day hike out to the Glacier Piedras Blancas, where it was warm enough to work on our tans, even though the water was freezing.

I was a little obsessed about the various icebergs floating on the lake and was even able to wrangle on of them for a short ride. It certainly helped that the lake wasn't very deep- the iceberg bottomed out when I finally got the courage to stand on it.

We saw many "lady’s slippers" along the path during these days and I now know that these flowers are not orchids and that they also grow in England. I thought that they were pretty tough to be living in such a rugged place.

We hiked back to Laguna Capri for our 3rd night and I was able to do a little more drawing the next morning before we headed back to El Chalten. We were both looking forward to showering and we needed to buy more food for our next trek in a different part of the park. One of the reasons we had been doing so much camping is that it was a good way to save money. We were having fun giving ourselves "credit" for each night in a tent... the amount of money we saved by not paying for a room. We found other ways to save money, too. For example, we realized that we could shower for free at the hostel where we were storing our extra luggage instead of paying $5 at another place. During our night in El Chalten, we stayed at the free campsite and were able to see a local fox the next morning before we set out. The weather was starting to turn, the clouds rolling in to obscure Mt. Fitzroy, but we were on a schedule. We also hoped that the weather would return to it's more pleasant state shortly after a small storm.

We left the El Chalten valley in the late afternoon to begin our second trek. Our destination was Campamento de Agostini, where we planned to camp for three nights and take day hikes. As we got closer to camp, the clouds grew thicker and by the time we had set camp and had dinner, it began to rain. The rain didn't stop until about 24 hours later. Since we didn't know how long it would rain at the time and therefore whether we'd be able to dry our clothes if they got wet, we ended up staying in the tent all day. We managed just fine, only slightly losing our minds about two hours before the rain stopped. We entertained ourselves by reading to each other, playing cards, and eventually playing harmonica and shaker egg- the straw that broke the camel's back. Have you ever spent 24 hours in a high-altitude 2-person tent with two people in it? I'm not a claustrophobic person, but it was a tight fit. Luckily, the next day the rain subsided and we were able to check out some of our surroundings. One of the draws of this campsite was that there is a glacial lake with views of the glacier and three peaks that crazy people try to climb. In order to get to the glacier itself, one has to cross the river using a harness, pulley, and zip line. We knew this was an option and had rented a harness just in case. We only rented one because they were relatively expensive and we weren't sure we'd both need them. So Mark took off one day to check out the glacier and I was able to get a video of him when he got back.

(Mark´s video coming soon)

On our last afternoon of this trek, we hiked up to the Mirador de Laguna Torre. I took off my sweaty rain pants to dry them and ended up using them to summon a clear view of the three towers (torres).

On our way back to camp I got a little over-zealous about drinking water directly from a small pond. We had been drinking water directly from the lakes and rivers for a week already so I didn´t think I was taking much of a risk. Little did I know I was setting myself up for one of the most horrible intestinal experiences I´ve ever had. We hiked out of the park and planned to leave the next morning for the east coast of Argentina. On our last morning in Patagonia, we woke around 4:30, packed up our tent and waited by the side of the road for our minibus shuttle. As we waited, we got colder and colder and all of a sudden a weird shift occurred in my insides and I had to rush to the campsite´s only latrine, a hole in the ground sheltered by the plastic walls of a port-a-potty. After an hour or so still waiting for the shuttle, Mark walked in to town to inquire about it. When he returned, I already had to hit the latrine again. It turned out that the guy who had sold us our tickets was misinformed about the shuttle´s actual schedule and that we´d have to wait a day to get to Piedra Buena. We were annoyed at first, but as the frequency of my latrine visits increased, so did my gratitude for the delay. I don´t want to get into the graffic details about the rest of my day in the latrine, but I will say that I´ve never dealt with incontinence before and I don´t plan to drink pond water ever again. Mark took me to the local clinic that afternoon and a nurse gave me two giant charcoal pills to ¨dry me out.¨ He also cooked me some plain noodles as per the nurse´s ordThe next day, we awoke at 4:30 again (with my self-confidence restored but my body weakened), packed up camp again, and were successfully shuttled to the east coast.

Once in Piedra Buena, we had to kill some time until our 34-hour bus ride up the Atlantic Coast to get to Buenos Aires. We hoped to pick up our renewed passports that had been forwarded from Lima, Peru, but they didn't arrive in Buenos Aires in time for our previously scheduled flight to Panama. The US Embassy in Buenos Aires issued us emergency passports, good for one year, that would serve as back-ups in case our Peace Corps passports got full or ceased to function during our trip home by land from Panama. As we were flying to Panama we realized that it was two years to the day after we first arrived in South America to begin our Peace Corps service. Spooky. Our final tally of nights-in-a-row-without-proper-bed-or-roof came out to 29, with two of those nights spent on the bus from Piedra Buena to Buenos Aires, and the one, unforgettable night in the cab of the semi-truck. The other 26 nights were spent in our tent all over Argentina. Thus ended our ¨great camping adventure,¨ a nice way to wrap up our travel in South America.

From Panama City, we expected to be able to get bus tickets directly to San Jose, Costa Rica. Although there were bus lines providing this service, they were booked for the next few days. So we took a bus to the town of David and spent the night, then started early the next day to get to the Costa Rican border and on to San Jose. We arrived in SJ at night and collapsed into our bed only after a rich dinner at our favorite Denny´s restaurant by the airport. The next morning, we took a 25-minute flight to meet up with my parents on the Nicoya Peninsula. The two of us made up half of the passengers and the plane was full, which seemed a bit ridiculous at the time. Still, it allowed us to meet up with my parents sooner, since they´d already been in Costa Rica for a couple days on their own. Thanks for reading! Mark will pick up where I left off...

So we've been on the road for over three months now. It's been difficult for me to adjust to the change in status from a PCV to "just" a tourist. As a volunteer we really felt connected to our community and believed that we were doing good work. As a tourist, it is much harder to find the "realness" of places and feel like we are not exploiting the people and just other gringos. To combat these feelings Erica and I try to speak Spanish in public, avoid organized tours, and ride buses and use other public transportation as much as possible. The freedom has been incredible and we've seen amazing places, but I have consistently compared our current situation to Bolivia and the life we had just a few months ago. Traveling through Argentina and Peru has brought out different emotions in me. A part of me has felt sad and confused as to Bolivia's state of chaos and "underdevelopment" while another part of me has felt pride and awe at having lived in such a unique environment. Before we left the US almost two years ago we read how Bolivia was the poorest country in South America and the 2nd poorest in the west, behind only Haiti. Now, after living in the country I wonder what "poor" really means? Sure, major roads are not paved, there is no home mail delivery, and many towns do not have 24/7 electricity or H2O. But, at least in El Puente, we saw no homeless people, families seemed strong, and we saw very very few overweight or obese people. I guess what has been highlighted for me are the differences in values and beliefs between American and Bolivian culture.

OK, enough seriousness for now...

One such event that we had heard much about but were afraid of the exploitive nature of was Cholita Wrestling. In case you don't remember, Cholitas are traditional Bolivian women. They are mostly indigenous and dress with long skirts (polleras), colorful tops, and wear their hair in braids (trenzas). They are strong women who mostly live in the altiplano and are well respected. In La Paz, the phenomenon of Cholita Wrestling has exploded in the past few years. Like many countries, Bolivia also has "professional" wrestling with rabid fans. National Geographic recently did a story about the history and impact of Cholita wrestlers. They are regular Cholitas who "wrestle" to earn extra money for their families. (I use "wrestle" because I participated in and coached amateur wrestling -- the kind featured in the Olympics and at US colleges -- not the same sport of which Hulk Hogan is a legend.) Anyway, fellow volunteers Mike, Kilo, Laurie and I attended such a match in La Paz one Sunday. To our delight the vast majority of the crowd was regular Bolivian families. The crowd looked and acted similar to what one might see at a WWF/WWE? match in the US. Yes, there was a small gringo section and we received a small ceramic souvenir of a Cholita wrestler. There were about 12 matches and only one featured two Cholitas squaring off, the rest were men vs. men. In other matches a Cholita was either the official in the ring or a "manager." The atmosphere was lively and the "wrestlers" did not disappoint. In classic Nacho Libre style almost all the participants wore masks, and there was a match of "little Bolivians." We saw Bolivian Ninjas, Spidermen, Vampires, and Gypsy-like guys climb into the ring and bounce around. The scene was difficult to capture on film, but I did my best. I have a pretty good video of the Bolivi-Ninja doing flips and kicks, but it is too large to post. Here are some samples...

The venue for Cholita Wrestling was in the city of El Alto, above La Paz. We were already planning our future mountain climbing adventure and took this picture in front of the peak we hoped to summit.

Mike, Kilo (a UCD alum), and I also tried to go to a Bolivian League futbol match on our last day in La Paz. The guys wore their jerseys, we went early, got excited for the game, and then nobody showed up. It was not the first time we had been misinformed during our time in Bolivia. We made the most of the day and still had a good time.

I flew back to Tarija after La Paz and then Erica and I traveled to Tupiza to meet with other volunteers and begin our trip to the Salar de Uyuni. Here we are waiting to make final arrangements to leave on the tour.

The Salar sits in a huge national park in far southwest Bolivia at an elevation of 3,650m (11,972ft) and covers over 4,000 sq. miles. The rest of the park is just as impressive and contains numerous active and inactive volcanoes, natural hot springs, geysers, and freaky looking blue, red, and yellow lakes. The altitude combined with the geologic activity made it feel like we were on another planet.

We were all amazed that you could walk right up to bubbling vats of Earth and stand in the mist of the geysers.

Here we are in natural hot springs at around 12,000 ft, and then in front of an extinct volcano with a green lake.

Scattered along the landscape were huge boulders no doubt ejected during a long ago eruption. I couldn't help myself from staring at the immense extinct volcanoes and wonder what it must have been like when they blew their tops.

One area in particular had a large concentration of debris and volcanoes stained red. The area was known as the "Valle de Dali." We stopped for about an hour at one area and were free to explore the rock formations.

The iconic "Arbol de Piedras"

We spent the last night before reaching the Salar in the Salt Hotel. Here is the hotel and the vehicle we traveled in for the four days.

We left the Salt Hotel before dawn so we could reach a rock "island" in the Salar to watch the sunrise. The experience of seeing the day begin from such a unique vantage point was another surreal experience.

Taking a coca break with Mateo, Phil, Steve, and Armando.

As Erica mentioned in her post, one tradition of Salar trips are taking strange perspective pictures. We had fun with these...

Also as Erica mentioned, part of our reason for traveling through the Salar was to begin acclimating for La Paz and our attempt at summiting 6,000m Huayna Potosi.

We arrived back in La Paz and met up with Mike and Kilo to make our final preparations for the mountain. Climbing Huayna was something that Mike and I had talked about since climbing 5000m Mt. Tunari during training in Cochabamba in spring of 2007. After I hurt my knee and had surgery I had some doubts, but my Panamanian surgeon said if I stuck to therapy and exercise, I would be able to make the climb. The mountaineering season in Bolivia corresponds to the dry winter, roughly July-Nov. I had surgery in Panama in June and we had to postpone the trip numerous times. Along with Mike, Kilo and Armando had also become excited and we expected the four of us to form a solid group. We had originally planned to request vacation time from PC to make the climb in November, but everything changed with our evacuation to Lima. For awhile it didn't seem that the climb would happen due to timing and logistics, but everything came together for a magical three days on the mountain.

Since we left Lima in September we had been traveling in a group of ten. We all got along well, but trying to manage such a large group with so many variables was difficult. Some in the group were not so into climbing and had never considered Huayna. The group gained confidence and momentum after our 4-day trek through the Colca Canyon in Peru. It was hot, dry, steep, and at altitudes over 11,000ft. In total we covered almost 20 miles and climbed almost 20,000ft. The last day we hiked out of the canyon on this trail, gaining over 3000ft.

The group separated after the canyon and vowed to reunite in La Paz in two weeks to attempt Huayna Potosi. Everyone kept their promises and we were excited to see each other again in La Paz. Before separating Mike, Kilo, and I had investigated various guide companies and settled on one run by an eclectic but reassuring Bolivian mountaineer and emergency room doctor. He told us that the altitude and the changing weather would be our biggest obstacles. We could do nothing about the weather, but he suggested we begin taking supplements of vitamin B-complex and iron in order to produce more red blood cells. Red blood cells contain the protein hemoglobin which transports oxygen around the body. More red blood cells = more hemoglobin = more oxygen to muscles and the brain. Beginning around 5000m air contains only 1/2 the oxygen content as compared to sea level. Obviously, this can cause problems with breathing, metabolism, and brain functions. We wanted to give ourselves the best chance at summiting so Erica, Mike, Kilo, and I began taking the supplement about two weeks before the climb. I believe they helped us immensely. The Doc also said he would speak with each person of the group individually and prescribe altitude medication as needed. All ten of us ended up purchasing and taking the medication with us to the mountain. We agreed that we would try to climb without meds, but take them if symptoms presented -- headaches, abnormally low/high heart rate, dizziness, etc. I also had with me prescription pain killers and strong anti-inflammatory for my knee that my surgeon had suggested I use if needed.

We had a four day window for the three day climb, leaving an extra day in case the weather was bad. One friend, Armando, was returning to the US and these were to be his last days in Bolivia. We left the city of La Paz early on a Monday morning and went to the gear deposit to be fitted for harnesses, snow suits, crampons, boots, and receive our ice axes. The drive up to El Alto was filled with anticipation as the mountain slowly became visible and grew larger. We stopped for a photo op and to have some laughs.

Our first day was spent learning how to use the gear on the ice. We had a short hike up to a glacier and spent three hours taking turns practicing techniques with the crampons and ice axes. Here is the geared-up group before setting out for the glacier.

Years ago on a European backpack trip I had spent a day ice climbing in the Swiss Alps so I felt comfortable on the Andean Ice. Here we are resting before attacking the glacier, and a look at our practice terrain.

After the practice we returned to Base Camp, had dinner, played some music, and tried to imagine what the next days would hold. The twelve of us were the largest group, but there were also Austrians, Israelis, and Germans staying in the 4130m (~13,500ft) lodge. Some members of the group felt effects of the altitude and took the prescription meds. Erica, Mike, Kilo, and I all felt strong and enjoyed the festive, but reverent atmosphere as night fell and we went to sleep.

The next day the plan was to hike to High Camp, a 3-5 hour hike ending at a small shack at 5,400m (~17,700ft). Erica and I have quite a bit of wilderness experience and know our own strengths, although neither of us had ever been at this altitude. We know that it is important to hike at your own pace and rest when your body needs it. With this in mind, we decided it best for Erica to have her own guide and set out for High Camp earlier than the rest of the group.

We had great weather during the ascent and everyone felt good. Since Erica was ahead of us we were able to see the route we would be taking. At times it was comforting, at others it was intimidating. At this time most of us were still hiking in tennis shoes and this slope looked particulary difficult. That is Erica and her guide accending the snowy slope as the group rested.

A few hours later we all reached High Camp. It really was just an insulated metal shack. The guides made us some warm tea and we ate a "dinner" of hot dogs and ramen noodles. I say "dinner" because it was about 4pm. We were supposed to eat, and then sleep before waking up at midnight for a small "breakfast" and then setting out in the dark for the 6 hour attempt of the summit.

High Camp, and Phil contemplating the next 24 hours.

Sleeping at 17,000+ proved difficult. Most of the group was experiencing the effects of the altitude. To my pleasant surprise, my knee, lungs, and brain were all working well. During the next few hours everyone except Mike and I took the prescription medication. I had trouble falling asleep until I went outside and released some liquids around 8pm. The night was clear and I had never seen so many stars. I took pause, gave thanks for the magical moment, then went in and slept for four hours.

Waking and gearing up just after midnight was a physical and mental challenge. We were all a bit groggy and most of our gear was moist from condensation. We had some hot tea and bread, then went outside and roped up to our partner and guide. Again, Erica set out almost one hour ahead of the rest of the group. We cheered her on as we watched the light from her headlamp slowly fade as she made her way up the mountain.

My hiking partner was Russ, a friend from our training group who I had clicked with almost immediately back in Jan 07. Russ also had wilderness experience and was a strong hiker. We ceremoniously prepared coca tea and chewed the leaves to help with the altitude. We were the first pair after Erica to leave High Camp. We were tired and cold, but confident and excited about the next 12 hours. Erica took this wonderfully flattering picture of me before leaving High Camp.

We spent the next four hours slowly ascending in the dark as views of the city of La Paz slowly came into view. My headlamp burned out 30 minutes into the journey so I was truly in the dark. Honestly I think I was lucky since without a headlamp I avoided tunnel vision and was more free to look around the mountain and up at the stars. We talked a bit, stopped to share chocolate, beef jerky, water, and coca and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

At around 18,500 ft we came upon the team of Phil and Steve. Steve, 20-something from Fresno, suffers from a hip problem and is expecting replacement surgery once back in the States. He felt his balance was not so good and had made the decision to turn back. Their guide descended with Steve, and Phil joined Russ and I. Around 5AM at 19,000ft I began to feel weak. I had eaten all my chocolate and jerky and had consumed 2/3 of my water. I experienced my first doubts about what I was doing. I was the only person over 30 and 9 years older than Phil; I was also four months removed from knee surgery. We sat, rested, drank water, Phil shared the rest of his chocolate, I focused, and the faint light of dawn appeared. Watching the mountain light up gave me new strength. The views were even better and I again felt blessed to experience such a moment. The three of us and our wonderful Bolivian guide got up and headed for the summit.

The rest of the way was easier. We raced against the sun and used its energy to climb the final 1000ft. Russ, Phil, and I reached the summit just behind Mike and Armando and were treated to breathtaking views. Here is one of our first pictures at 20,000ft.

An attempt at a panoramic of the Andes, the Altiplano, and the Amazonian lowlands. Click for a larger view.

Before leaving the summit I took this picture of Russ with Mt. Condorini (~15000ft) in the distance.

And here is a picture Erica took of her guide looking toward Illumani.

On our way down we passed Erica on her final ascent to the summit and she took this picture of Russ, me, Phil, and our guide in back. Also visible is her guide and the rope attached to her wrist that she wrote about in her post.

We descended under a clear sky and hot sun enjoying great views of La Paz and the surrounding mountains. Here are some pictures taken by Miguel during the descent.

By the time we got back to High Camp almost 10 hours had passed since we left. We were tired, but exhilirated by what we had just done.

After some hot tea, the group headed down to Base Camp and I waited for Erica. Another hour or so passed before she appeared on the slope, slowly making her way down. It was awesome to watch her come down, knowing where she had been and what she had done. She drank some warm tea and then we left High Camp to join the rest of our group back base camp. By the time we reached Base Camp Erica had been hiking for just over 12 hours. Our friends cheered us on as we climbed the final steps to the lodge.

The experience of climbing the mountain was incredible. Huayna Potosi is pretty much accepted to be the "easiest" 6,000m peak in the world. But, as our doctor friend assured us and we found out, it still is a "proper" mountain. Offically, the peak is 6088m above sea level, 88m above the "magical" 6K mark, but 31ft shy of 20,000ft. I had my GPS during the whole adventure and our Bolivian guides were curious as to what the reading would be at the summit. It seems there is a bit of controversy as to the true height of the mountain. At the top, my GPS read 6,123m, or 20,083 ft. Whatever the true measurement was, it was by far the highest any of us had ever been.

After La Paz, I was to spend about a week alone in Buenos Aires while Erica quickly flew home to take the cat to California. That did not work as planned. From Erica's last post you may know that Roque was lost during their 45 min flight from Cochabamba to Santa Cruz. Erica called me late in Buenos Aires with the unbelievable news. We were both shocked and upset. I felt helpless, so far away, and was in denial. As the next morning dawned and she boarded her flight to Miami without Roque I began to accept what had happened. I spent a few days depressed and crying. I was supposed to be studying for the GRE and working on grad school applications, but it was difficult.

When Erica arrived things got a little better. We comforted each other and contacted the Bolivian airline to try to get our cat back. At first we were told that people had seen him, and that we might still be able to find him. But, after a week or so we were told that no one had seen him for awhile and he was most likely gone for good. I felt angry, and just confused by the whole situation. This was not the way the story of Roque was supposed to end. He was so close to a comfortable life in California. We joked that he had won the kitty lottery. How things change. As I write this now, almost two months removed, I still feel sad and wonder how Roque is adjusting to his new, unexpected life.

So we spent a month in an apartment in Buenos Aires. I took the general GRE and the Psychology GRE and filled out applications for grad school. We also celebrated Thanksgiving and had Emelia, a fellow volunteer from Tarija, pass through and help us cook dinner.

We left Buenos Aires with Emelia and visited Iguazu Falls on the border of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. The falls were beautiful.

Iguazu Falls are located in a national park, some in Argentina, some in Brazil. US citizens need visas and $100 to enter Brazil (as Brazilians need the same to enter the USA), so we decided to stay on the Argentina side of the park. Here is an overview of the major San Martin Falls.

The park was very well organized with series of trails and catwalks leading under, around, and over most of the large falls. We spent the morning exploring, amazed by the volume of water and number of smaller falls.

Here is a close view from a catwalk over one edge of San Martin.

We spent the afternoon in the lower park of the park gaining a different perspective. If you look close you can see us at the end of a catwalk, at the base of San Martin.

We also took a short boat tour to gain an even closer view and become "baptized" by the water.

There was wildlife in the park and we saw a toucan, many coati, and lizards. Here is one that made a move for my shoe.

The largest of the falls is known as La Garganta del Diablo. It is an immense drop off where a huge river suddenly plunges. Hard to capture on film, but here is one shot.

We split from Emelia after Iguazu -- she headed for Ecuador, Erica and I for Uruguay. Erica has a friend who spent a year in Uruguay during high school and gave us tips on where to visit. We spent almost two weeks and loved it. We think Uruguay might become a future family destination for us. Erica will write more.

Before I end, one last story about Buenos Aires...

The city of Buenos Aires has 11 million pepole, the country of Bolivia has 9 million, El Puente has 500. We both experienced culture shock during our month+ in BA. Traffic. Honking. High Prices. Smog. McDonald's and Burger King. Crime.

The Sunday before Thanksgiving I rode a city bus out to the neighboorhood of La Boca. Boca was founded by Itallian immigrants, gave birth to the Tango, and is one of the oldest and poorest barrios of Buenos Aires. It is also home to the Boca Juniors futbol club and, unfortunately, a bit of crime. I walked around the touristy streets and looked at the colorful houses.

My plan was to walk from La Boca to San Telmo, another historic BA barrio. On the way I passed some kids kicking a ball around.

I was less than three blocks away from the main tourist street when I walked past a group of six young men drinking beer in front of a corner store. It was 3pm, there was a park across the street with families BBQing, and kids kicking a ball at the other corner. As I walked past the group, one of the guys asked me if I had the time. I answered no, showed that I had no watch on, and kept walking. All in Spanish, they asked me to stay, to hold on. I got a strange feeling, and thought they wanted to sell me drugs. I said no thanks, and kept walking. Less than half a block later I heard footsteps. I turned around and saw three of them rapidly approaching. As they got close they backed me against the wall and one pulled out a gun. They told me to be quiet and give them all my money. My mind raced for a second. I was wearing "travel pants" -- multiple deep pockets, some with zippers. I had separated my cash. Large bills were in my back zipped pocket, small bills in the front. I also had our camera in my left pocket, and a special, antique pocket watch in my right pocket. I had every intent to give them some money, but did not want to part with the camera or the watch. A second later two of the guys had their hands in my pockets trying to get what they could. I began to yell, "Calmense! Calmense" Calm down, Calm down. They told me to "Callate, Callate!" Shut up, Shut up. Not wanting them to get the camera or the watch out I trapped their hands in my deep pockets and held them there. Then things changed a bit. The guy in the center threw a right hook and hit me square on the jaw. I'd never been in a fight before, but I have many years wrestling experience. I reacted. I threw a short left elbow and connected with one guy's skull, then a swift right kick to the groin of the gun-wielder. Both of them fell back, the elbow recipient tearing my pants down to my knee as he fell. I remember the guy in the center, who threw the first punch, looking kind of stunned. We both took steps back, I tripped and fell over a crack in the sidewalk. I also remember looking up at the guy, expecting him to come after me as I was on the ground. He did not. The three turned and went back to their corner. I got up, picked up my baseball cap, and walked the other way. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting them to come after me with the rest of their friends. My pants were badly torn, and they had stolen $9 pesos, just under $3.00 from me. I walked quickly, turned a few corners and luckily came across an Argentine Navy Station. I told the guard outside what had happened. I was visibly shaken and I was let in to clean off, have a drink of water, and calm down. They asked if I wanted to make a "denuncia", a complaint. At first I thought no, they stole so little, but then I decided it was the right thing to do. They called a police car and I was driven to a local station. I was treated nicely, although blamed a bit for leaving the tourist corridor. I tried to explain that it was not my fault I was robbed, and asked if this was common for a Sunday afternoon. I told them I had lived two years in Mexico and Bolivia and had never had such an experience. They listened, took down my details and gave me a report. I now have a nice souvenir from the Argentine Federal Police stating I was a victim of a "robo y asaulto por mano armado." I left Police the office, drank down a beer, then rode the bus back to our apartment. As soon as I entered, Erica knew something had happened. I was beat tired, and hungry. I told her about the crazy incident, let out some emotion, ate, then fell asleep on the couch.Erica sewed up my pants that night and my elbow and jaw were sore for the next few days. I'm not sure if I was stupid or brave to fight back. I told the police that I didn't believe the gun was real. He assured me it was, saying the crooks are "tontos pero no estupidos." Dumb but not stupid. Had they confronted me with a knife I think I would have been much more scared. I was grateful to come out unharmed. I also believe the thieves could not have been very experienced. Why didn't they all come after me? Why didn't they hit me right away? Why didn't they hit me harder? I did have a funny feeling when I first saw the guys. In relating the story to my mom she reminded me to listen to my gut, always. I guess that is the lesson I can take. Now, if I get a strange feeling I will turn and walk the other way. I don't want to press my luck. (NOT the guys who robbed me, but another pleasant day in BA) So we have been in Argentina for more than two months now. The country is beautiful, the meat is good, and the culture is very different than Bolivia. One thing that always pops up in Argentina is the Falkland War. Years ago, Argentina invaded two small British islands off the coast of Ushuaia. They apparently believed the Brits wouldn't notice or wouldn't care. The UK sent warships and sunk the pride of the Argentine Navy. Argentina has never forgotten and vows to someday reclaim the islands. Much like landlocked Bolivia celebrating its Dia del Mar. Here we are in front of the Malvina Memorial (as the islands are called in Argentina.)

So that is the past few months of travels. We are currently in Ushuaia, Argentina. We spent Christmas and New Years here camping. Today will be 14 nights in a tent. Time to do laundry. Hasta luego, Marcos

On September 22, we were escorted by PC vehicles to downtown Lima where we got some lunch and started discussing what to do with our lives. The next morning, Mark and I visited the US Embassy in Lima to get our personal passports updated since our Peace Corps passports would expire in 90 days. Our goal was to work our way back to Bolivia over ground by October 1oth to be able to rearrange our belongings before PC shipped them home for us. When we got back to our hostel after the Embassy, there was a group of fellow volunteers waiting to leave for Paracas, on the coast. We didn't really have any plans and were already tired of bustling Lima, so we threw on our backpacks and joined them. That night, we arrived in the Paracas nature reserve and joined the group for a great dinner.

The next morning we took a boat tour of the Ballestas Islands, home to many sea lions, penguins, pelicans, and peruvian boobies. On the sandy dune mainland, there was this symbol carved into the bedrock called the candelabra. It is similar to the Nasca lines which can only be viewed in their entirety by plane. Since the symbol is carved in the rock, the winds actually sweep the sand out of it keeping it clean and visible.These are the peruvian boobies I mentioned, a cousin of the Galapagos blue-footed boobies. Here´s a sea lion striking a pose for our cameras. Penguins of the Ballestas. From Paracas, we took a bus to Ica then on to Arequipa, the jumping off point for our three day trek into the Colca Canyon. We took a bus from Arequipa about 5 hours to Cabanaconde, a small town with hostels for hikers passing through. From Cabanaconde we left in the morning to descend 3500 ft to the bottom of the canyon. We stayed at a lodge with huts made of reeds with beds on stone foundations. Doesn't sound that comfortable, but we slept great after soaking in the hot springs next to the river and eating a hot meal. The lodge was located at the junction of two rivers. I found the cats that lived at the lodge, or did they find me? This is the trail we hiked out of the canyon on day 3 of the hike. It took me about 3 hours, but others did it in closer to 2 hours. A couple of us decided to hire a mule to carry our backpacks to give us a chance to climb out of the canyon. The locals kept trying to get me to hire a ride on a mule, but I stubbornly declined. I'm glad that I did, because it was extremely rewarding to reach the top on my own. Here's everyone taking a breather at a rest stop on the bus ride back from the canyon. We'd hiked up and out of the canyon that morning. We spent a few more days in Arequipa after our hike. One night there was a spectacular sunset.

A fellow volunteer taught me how to carve a pineapple just like the Bolivians do (thanks, Kilo!). The first time it took me about a half an hour. It turns out to be easier on more ripe pineapples.

From Arequipa, the group split into two trips- one headed to Cuzco to visit Macchu Picchu, and the other to get to our sites in Bolivia by the 10th. I headed out a little earlier than Mark because I knew I´d need the time to finish the mural. He stayed in La Paz and was able to attend some Cholita wrestling as you may have read about in National Geographic. I took the bus from La Paz to Cochabamba in order to get an earlier flight to Tarija, and we saw this banner at the bus terminal. "The 8th nacional congress of the Bolivian movement of solidarity with Cuba."

Since I needed to get our belongings to the Tarija regional office by October 10, I only had four days in El Puente to finish the mural and sell our belongings. It was a rather stressful time and by the end I had a pretty strong head cold. Each day I got up and worked on the mural until I couldn't stand the hot sun. Then I went back to our place for lunch, took a short nap if I could, and spent the afternoon sorting our things into three piles: things to give away, things to sell, and things I was going to take with us. On the first day I sold a few pieces of furniture to a neighbor, and the word soon got out that everything must go. People were almost constantly knocking on the door to come in and see what I had to give away or sell. It was a little disturbing to feel like everyone was looking at me with dollar signs in their eyes (or Bolivianos in their eyes, I suppose). I was told many times that I should have informed people earlier that I was selling our things. At first it was really annoying and then I turned it into a joke so I could deal with it better. I told people that I should have hired a taxi with a speaker strapped to the top to make an announcement throughout the town, just like they do to announce public events and news from time to time. People thought that was pretty funny and then they weren't as mad that they hadn't known earlier about the sale going on. At the end of each day I made sure to visit with someone from town that I really cared about and who cared about me. Most nights this meant having tea with the Chambi family next door or with my landlady Nely. I've ended up sponsoring Adonia Chambi's ring for her high school graduation taking place in December. Since I won't be there, I will send the ring in my stead so that she'll have a memoir of our friendship. She was the girl who watched Salta while we were out of town. I helped her with her English homework frequently and she and I had many conversations about world cultures. She loved to watch Hindi movie musicals.

Here I am with the art teacher, Elviz, and the senior class of Colegio San Miguel. They were the main students that I worked with on the two murals in El Puente.

The flag border ended up being a lot of work but turned out beautiful. There were a couple empty spots towards the end so I filled them with non-national flags.

Go Ags! This is the UC Davis emblem.

Finally, the new flag of the indigenous people of the Andes, called the Wipala.

This is what the mural looked like after I finished. I left clear varnish with the art teacher with instructions on how to seal the mural against sun and weather damage. I sure hope they do it. By the time I left El Puente, I was glad to be going. I was literally sick and tired. I cried a bit on the ride out of town, reflecting on how I probably wouldn't see again any time soon those colorful rocks and compassionate people I'd grown to love. It turned out that most of our belongings had already been forwarded to Cochabamba, so I didn't get to pull out useful things like Mark's hiking boots, our tent, or my sleeping bag. But it did save me from having to travel by bus with lots of luggage and I was grateful for that.When I returned to Tarija, Mark and I headed out to meet up with others in Tupiza, the jumping off point for the tour of the Salar de Uyuni (salt flats). Little did I know what other wonders would be included on the tour. We set out in two SUVs, each with 5 passengers, a driver, and a cook. The first day of driving was a bit uneventful besides the four wheel drive mechanism falling off the SUV that Mark and I were NOT riding in. We stayed in a small village called San Antonio de Tropez the first night and slept well. The following day, we piled back into the cars nice and early to get going to see a series of lakes and volcanoes.

Lago Verde

We arrived at Lago Colorado right as the sun was setting. If it had been slightly earlier, the strong red color of the lake might have been more visible. We had seen several lakes populated by pink flamingos, which were reminiscent of our hike on the Inca Trail back in July 2007.On the second night, we stayed near Lago Colorado, slept and ate well, and headed out early to see more lakes and even some bubbling geysers in the ground.

On the third and final night of the tour, we stayed at a hotel made of large blocks of salt. It was right on the edge of the Salt Flats. We woke up before dawn to arrive at the Isla de los Pescadores at sunrise.

Here's a relief map of the Salar de Uyuni, which is said to cover 8000 square kilometers of land. It is composed of alternating layers of salt and water, each layer being about 20cm thick. Around the edges are companies that harvest the salt for sale at markets.

A tradition of the Salar tour is that you take wacky perspective pictures like this one. Stay tuned for a few others in Mark's post.

At the end of our tour, we took an overnight bus from Uyuni to La Paz. We arranged to hike up Huayna Potosi, a mountain that is claimed to be the easiest 6000+ meter peak to climb. It is less risky because medical evacuation is easier (with La Paz only an hour away by car) than on other more isolated mountains. Also, very little technical experience is necessary to complete the climb.

Here we are being dropped off at the lower base camp: Refugio Huayna Potosi. Elevation: 4100m (that's about 13,500 ft). We arrived at the lower base camp in the late morning and set out after lunch to practice ice climbing and self-arrest on a nearby glacier with crampons and ice axes. Having been to rock climbing gyms in the past, the climbing was pretty straightforward. One of my crampons fell off so I had the opportunity to learn how to climb assisted by a partner below me with an ice axe and how to tighten the crampons onto my boots better. It was pretty fun to learn how to self-arrest. You roll over onto your stomach and jam the axe into the ice, thus halting your slide down the mountain.

Sunset at high base camp: 5400m (over 17,500 ft)

Several of us had resting heart rates of 130 bpm at the high base camp while others were in the 80s. I decided to take altitude medication in the middle of the night when I woke up with a pounding headache. The refuge was a metal building with 6 thin mattresses on the floor for the 9 of us. It was remarkably warm, although the moisture in the air condensed on the ceiling and was dripping on us all night. We got up at 12:30am, had a quick cup of coca tea, and headed out. I had arranged for my own guide and a slightly earlier departure since I was the slowest hiker of the group (no doubt related to my ridiculous heart rate). Everyone else was with a guide and one other hiker. We all wore headlamps and carried empty backpacks so that we could take off layers of clothing as we heated up. Although I know it was my body that carried me up that mountain, I am incredibly grateful to my guide for the support he gave me along the way. Since the rope that was attached to my climbing harness was attached to him the whole way, he was able to lend me some of his will at times when I had little of my own. This was particularly helpful during the last 100 meters of ascent when my body was telling me how nice it would be to take a quick nap in the rising sun to give my legs a rest. If my guide hadn't pulled on that rope I might not have made it all the way to the top. Thank you Gualberto!

Summit: 6088 meters (19,968 feet)

Mark and I had very different experiences on this hike, as you'll hear in his post. On the way down from the summit to the high base camp, I had a surprise opportunity to use our training when my guide was teaching me a new way to use the ice axe to stabilize myself. I didn't do it right the first time, and ended up sliding for a few long milliseconds before I performed a five-star self-arrest.

I was a little worried that doing this would somehow get Mark addicted to mountaineering. However, after we'd gotten all the way back to the lower base camp, Mark commented, "If that was the easiest 6000m peak, then I'm not sure I want to do the second easiest!" My mind was put at ease. Although this was an amazing experience, I wouldn't want to do it every weekend.

On our last day in La Paz, we visited the ruins at Tiwanaku. Here we are with the Sun Gate, thought to be a calender designed by a now extinct population from 200AD.After both of us returned from Tiwanaku with sunburned faces, we took a bus to Cochabamba to break Roque out of the veterinarian's office he'd been living in for a couple weeks. With Mark's GRE test dates fast approaching, he flew to Tarija to get a taxi to Salta, Argentina where he could find a bus for the long haul to Buenos Aires. I stayed another week in Cochabamba waiting for Roque's immigration paperwork to get finished. After several failed attempts to have Roque taken home by others, we decided to take him directly home to make things more simple. We'd also built up a fair amount of souvenirs and other items not useful for being on the road that needed to get home. So we found me a flight from Santa Cruz, Bolivia to Miami and on to Buenos Aires. I was going to ship Roque from Miami, but then my parents offered some of their frequent flyer miles to get me all the way to California for a short visit. I couldn't pass that opportunity up, so we booked it. Then I booked the short flight from Cochabamba to Santa Cruz for the day before the voyage. Roque and I watch Barack Obama be elected on CNN from our hostal room in Cochabamba. The next evening I checked my luggage and Roque onto the Aerosur flight and was in Santa Cruz within the hour. When I arrived in Santa Cruz, all of my luggage came through, except for Roque's crate. So I asked the luggage staff to see where he was. After 10 minutes or so, a tall man with a yellow reflective vest came into luggage claim and said there was a problem. He showed me the empty crate that Roque had been traveling in. "No hay gato," he said casually. My first reaction was to laugh. For those who have lived in Bolivia for an extended period of time, this would seem like a typical Bolivian experience. But despite my familiarity with Bolivian travel conditions, I was in denial that he was gone. I asked for an explanation, and they said he must've escaped from the crate during the flight, because when they opened the cargo hold upon arrival, he jumped out and ran into the nearby field. I asked them to let me out onto the tarmack to call for him and they directed me to the security office where I was told it would not be possible. I described Roque to the team of crew members in vests and they set out to find him. Within the hour, the group came marching triumphantly into the baggage claim with a little orange ball of fur. I was so elated that I failed to notice right away that it wasn't Roque. As they approached, I realized they were holding a kitten that fit the description I'd given them, but it wasn't Roque. I hated having to tell them it wasn't him because they were so excited, but their response was that I should take the kitten anyway. I insisted that I wanted OUR cat back, and they returned to look for him again. I waited as other flights arrived and eventually was kicked out of the baggage claim area when there were no more arrivals. At around 12:30am, the original vest-clad employee came to tell me that I'd been cleared to enter the tarmack to call for the cat. I knew this would be the last step of the search, and was grateful for the opportunity to help and see the situation. We searched underneath the vehicles, scanned the surrounding fields, and laid down on the ground to look under the maintenance shack constructed of boxcars up on cement blocks. We lured out a cat that looked very similar to Roque, but acted nothing like him. After this disappointment I started really feeling that we'd done everything and that he was too scared to be found, if he were even near where we were searching. Several of the idling plane engines had been turned off to aid our search, but I imagine the team of 8 men calling his name was enough to spook Roque at that point. At around 2:30am, I called off the search and took a taxi 15 minutes into Santa Cruz to a hotel to sleep a few hours before returning to the airport. The decision I faced now was whether I should get on the flight to Miami at 10am. I investigated how much it would cost to delay the trip a few days to have more time to search, and it would have cost more than the original ticket. Having spent a decent amount of money already on boarding Roque and getting his paperwork done twice, plus the indebtedness we'd incurred to others who'd helped along the way, the financial cost far outweighed the low possibility of finding Roque. When I went back to the airport after 4 hours of sleep, I requested to be let back onto the tarmack and was denied. I left Roque's crate and food in the lost and found office and walked to the chain link fence outside where I could see where we'd been searching shortly before. I called Roque's name, cried for a while, made my apologies to him for this turn in his life. Even though I wouldn't be bringing Roque home, I continued the journey to California to see my mom and drop off souvenirs at home. Each time I checked in for a flight or picked up my luggage off a conveyor belt I thought about how Roque was supposed to be there. When I got home it made me sad to see Javier (our cat in the care of my folks) because I knew they would have been good friends. Mark and I contacted the airport staff by phone and email and eventually were told that they hadn't seen Roque for a while. Disposing of Roque's then expired immigration documents was a very symbolic act for us, and very sad. It was interesting to note the phases I went through in this experience: from denial through mourning and into rationalization. I have to tell myself that he's okay, that he probably has found shelter and food, that he just wanted to stay in Bolivia but didn't know how to tell us. This is the last picture I have with Roque- it was taken in Cochabamba the day we were being evacuated to Peru.I joined Mark in Buenos Aires after a short stay with my mom in California. It took me a while to get over my jet-lag since there was a 6-hour time difference and the people in Buenos Aires live on a late schedule. Most businesses don't open until 9:30am and people don't eat dinner until 10 or 11pm. Even on weeknights! We rented an apartment so that Mark would have space to work on his grad school applications and so that we wouldn't have to deal with living in a hostel.

We made Thanksgiving dinner a night early with our volunteer friend Emelia. We made it early so that we'd have more time to eat leftovers before we had to check out of our apartment on Friday. From Buenos Aires, we took a bus to Puerto Iguazu and there were only 6 or 7 people besides us on the bus. We asked the bus attendant how the company can make any money with such an empty bus and he told us that the bus would be in the road even if it were empty. This was a strange thing to imagine compared to our experiences in Bolivia with buses only leaving when 75% full- meaning indefinite delays at times.Once settled at our hostel in Puerto Iguazu we took a dip in the pool and investigated how we'd get to the Cataratas de Iguazu (waterfalls) the next day. Of course we could sign up for a tour, but it'd be way more expensive and we'd prefer to have more freedom as well. So we took a city bus to the visitor's center and got there before the park opened. I didn't really know what we were in for, having not seen many pictures of the waterfalls in the tourist literature. We had to hike in a little to get to the falls, and I got more excited as the sound of the falls grew louder. Right away we started to see wildlife as well- brightly colored butterflies and a mama coati (ko-ah-tee) and her babies. We'd never seen a coati before so it was pretty sweet. Eventually we got to the catwalk suspended over the falls and were able to look over them and get spectacular views of the surrounding area. There were several boat tour options and we decided to take the 12-minute-long "baptism" in the falls. It was exhilarating to be dunked in the spray from the falls, but I kept thinking how dangerous it was. They said they'd never lost anyone but they'd had boats flip over in the past. We were very glad to have done it.

I thought the signs were pretty funny. They were posted along the metal catwalks that we followed to view the park.Our final stop on the waterfall tour was the Garganta del Diablo- Devil's Throat. I was impressed by the sheer volume of water descending into the mist. It was mesmerizing to stare into the current, and I'm glad that I was able to capture the rainbow in the picture. There were hundreds of birds flying around in the mist, which made it seem even more magical as you stood there feeling the mist on your skin.Ok this post is getting ridiculously long and it's Mark's turn to share his perspective. Thanks for your patience in waiting for this post and reading it all the way to the end!

So it's official -- as of Monday, September 22 our Peace Corps service ended. The whole process of our consolidation, evacuation, and completion of service has been a bit surreal. At times we were bogged down with paperwork and details and at other times we were overcome with emotion. Actually leaving Bolivia was the most difficult moment for me. I held out hope that the political atmosphere would calm down and we would be allowed to return to El Puente and continue our service. With each announcement from the PC Admin I thought "This will be the one where they tell us everything is calm again." Even as we waited in the Cochabamba airport and our plane was delayed over and over again, I hoped that things might return to normal. Not until our Country Director finally announced that Bolivia and Peru had approved our flight plan and the C-130 had left La Paz did I begin to accept that this phase of my life was over.

Erica and I walked outside the airport and took some last looks around at the mountains. I cried. We talked. We laughed a bit. Then we went to the observation deck and watched the military plane arrive.

Loading the plane took on a bit of a circus atmosphere. We were told not to take pictures, but hardly anyone could hold back their curiosity. The PC staff, volunteers, and even the Bolivian airport staff were all shooting photos of the military cargo plane. The mood was quite somber as the doors closed and we left Bolivia. We had a great view of Mt. Tunari as we sat on the runway and I was grateful that I had the opportunity to take two trips up the mountain. When we arrived in Peru the mood lightened and we were happy to be greeted by the US Air Force and Embassy officials. In another strange twist, one of the Embassy officials turned out to be my old high school drama teacher. I recognized him immediately but could not remember who he was until his name was announced. Later I talked to him and even though it had been over 15 years since I graduated and I'm a bit more hairy now, he also recognized me.

The next days were spent at a "retreat center" outside of Lima with all 110 Bolivia volunteers. We did paperwork, had sessions to express our feelings, and had time to unwind and just hang out with each other. When Monday came we were whisked away in vans to the central PC Peru office in Lima and were officially no longer Peace Corps Volunteers. It was a strange, abrupt ending to such an intense period in our lives.

At the entrance to our retreat center with fellow B-44 volunteers Gina and Stephanie.

We spent the next two days in Lima, planning out our next steps, eating good food, and renewing our passports. We went to the US Embassy on Tuesday and were helped by a former Bolivia PC volunteer who served in the early 90's. She had heard about our evacuation and we shared stories about our experiences.

We were fortunate to return to our hostel just as a group of friends was setting out for southern Peru. Our bags were already packed and we took advantage of our newly gifted freedom and made the decision to join our friends on the road...

And so begins the next phase of our lives -- we are now Returned Peace Corps Volunteers traveling around South America. We expect to take our time and see this continent and slowly make our way overland to Mexico. We are grateful for our time in Bolivia, the community of El Puente and its people, and the many other volunteers who we met and forged friendships with. We are also very excited about the opportunity to travel a bit before returning to our friends and family in the US.

These are the closing pictures of PC Bolivia taken Monday morning before everyone began their new adventures. We took a Bolivian-style photo without smiles.

And here is the final picture of our training group, B-44. We all met in Miami in January 2007 and became close friends during our time in Bolivia.Hasta lluego,Marcos

We've been staying about 1 hour east of Lima, Peru in a little community called Chaclacayo since our evacuation from Bolivia on September 15. We started the COS (close of service) process on Tuesday with the distribution of film canister sized containers that we have to poop in to make sure we don't have any parasites. For those of you less desensitized to talking about digestion, I'll spare you the details. We have to go through a whole medical clearance like we did before we started. On Thursday a team of people from Washington, D.C. arrived to assist with paperwork and to tell us about our options. Some people will be signing up for a year or two in another PC country. Some people are going straight home to the states, and others will stay and travel for a while. We are still trying to figure out exactly what we're doing, but we're definitely going to travel around South and Central America before coming home. We may even go back to our site briefly to finish the mural, shift around some of our belongings, and say goodbye more thoroughly. Roque is safe in Cochabamba with a PC staff member's family and he will most likely be brought to the US by said staff in October. All 110 volunteers are staying in the same place, so we've been able to hang out and do a bit of much-needed processing.

Leading up to our evacuation, tension had been building in Bolivia for a couple of weeks. We had been cut off from our regional city by multiple bloqueos. There was even a roadblock in El Puente that had lasted three days. We saw a rock fight break out between those maintaining the bloqueos and those trying to pass through and we heard dynamite go off at night in an effort to scare people from trying to pass. We were put on alert by the Peace Corps on Sept 10th and then moved up to "standfast" on the 11th. That evening we got a call from our project director, who wanted us to pack right away to get to another town that night so we could catch a morning bus to Cochabamba. Normally we would go to Tarija, which is about 4 hours by bus compared to the 18 or so it would take us to get to Cochabamba. The reason they wanted us to go to Cochabamba by land is that the roads were blocked between us and Tarija and the airport in Tarija had been taken over by protesters. Since we weren't comfortable trying to cross the dynamite infused bloqueo at night, we decide to pack and depart the next morning. We were able to say goodbye to most of our friends and co-workers that morning and miraculously flagged down a taxi to take us north almost immediately. We took that taxi to Villa Abecia, about 30 minutes up the road, then transferred to a small van to travel another hour to Camargo where we spent the night. The next day, we took a bus from there to Potosi (about 4 hours) where a PC employee drove us the remaining 9 hours to Cochabamba.

Somewhere in between Potosí and Cochabamba we pulled over by the side of the road to go to the bathroom. Roque had been stirring in his crate and meowing a lot so we thought he might need to go as well. So we put his crate on the ground and opened the door. He timidly came out, but once he realized he was outside he took off! Luckily it was a full moon that night so we could see him. We tried to sneak up on him, but everytime we got close he´d walk further into the desolate wasteland. Finally I made a wide path around in front of him and was able to corner him between some scrub brush. We put him immediately back into his crate without him getting a chance to use the bathroom. We were relieved that he´d be coming with us instead of living a short life in the altiplano as condor fodder.

Upon arrival in Cochabamba, we got to sleep around 3am and had to get up for an 8am meeting where we were informed that we were, in fact, being evacuated. A group of about 70 volunteers left for Peru that morning, and the rest of us were consolidated at a hotel until the next day when our flight would depart. The really amazing part of the evacuation process is that we were flown to Peru on a military plane. Here we are waiting at the Cochabamba airport to be picked up.

The arrival of our plane in Cochabamba was delayed because they were having trouble receiving clearance for our Bolivian military plane to enter Peruvian airspace. We were at the airport for about 6 hours before it finally arrived. We were fed pizza and American candy while we waited.

From left: Kilo, Miguel, Marcos, Rachel

It was a special treat that the back of the C130 was aligned with a view of Tunari, the peak in Cochabamba that Mark climbed on two occasions.

This is what the hatch of the back of the plane looked like from the inside once it was closed.

Apparently the C130 is often included in military chants, such as:

"C130 flyin' down the strip

Cuerpo de Paz gonna take a little trip..."

Click on the arrow to see a video tour of the inside of the C130- yes it was that loud.

There were 44 of us on this flight. The flight that left the day before involved over 70 evacuees.

We were invited to visit the cockpit 2-by-2. I was impressed that there were 5 military personnel in there. This plane was built in 1959, but it had been updated with GPS navigation technology as well. We learned that it was actually an American-built plane that had been sold to the Bolivian military under the condition that it was available for use by the US military when necessary.

The view out the back of the plane when we arrived in Lima about 3 hours later.

Lima Air Force Base.

Upon arrival we were debriefed by officials from the US Embassy, US Air Force, and Peace Corps Peru. After getting our passports stamped with a 6-month Peruvian visa, we were whisked away to the "vacation center." It must have been a small university at some point, but had been converted into a hotel/event center. Each day buses of Peruvian kids would arrive to ride horses and play in the pool. We were staying in a dorm room and others were in small cabins with shared baths. Our meals were served in a dining commons and the wait staff were pretty tired of us by the time we left. We are now staying at a smaller hostel in the heart of Miraflores- a pretty touristy area of Lima.

It was nice to be in the same place as all the other volunteers while we wrapped up our service. We had several opportunities to meet with the volunteers we went through training with to share our experiences and feelings about moving on from Bolivia. I was really impressed that the majority of people are either going back to Bolivia for some reason or are pursuing Peace Corps service in other countries. Towards the end of our time together, we were a bit bogged down with administrative tasks and paperwork, but we still found time to get together to play the blues, wax nostalgic about our interrupted service, and compare future plans.

The team from Peace Corps Washington, D.C. facilitated the purchase of shirts for all the volunteers and Bolivian staff. Here's a picture we took before people started leaving on Sunday.

Tonight, reality began to set in as we accompanied Stephanie and Christian to the Lima airport to put them on their flights back to the states. They were both Tarija volunteers that we'd come to know and love. From left to right: Ellen, Marcos, Emelia, Stephanie, Alana, Christian.

It was sad to see them leave South America and we again recognized how lucky we are to be able to travel for a little longer before heading back to full-time American life. During a short souvenir shopping spree with Stephanie, I realized how we're quickly blending in with the backpacker population. Vendors refused to speak Spanish with us, insisting on using English to negotiate prices. We found ourselves yelling across plazas to pass on messages to our fellow travelers. And most shockingly, everything is SO expensive here compared to Bolivia. We've started making plans for the next few weeks- head to the US Embassy tomorrow to renew our personal passports (our PC-issued passports are only valid for 89 more days), get ourselves to La Paz so that Mark and some friends can climb Huayna Potosi at over 6000m, and then to our site before October 10th so that we can have Peace Corps ship our non-travel belongings home for us. The other reason for getting back to El Puente is so that we can put the finishing touches on the world map mural. Only about half of the countries were labelled and we had run out of yellow paint for the flag border. I expect we'll be able to finish it up in two weeks or less. We've been watching Bolivia on the news and it seems that most of the turmoil continues to be concentrated in Santa Cruz and Pando. Our Peace Corps contacts within Bolivia have also given us confidence that we will be fine getting there and out again without worrying about our safety more than usual.

We're flip-flopping about what to do with Roque. He's apparently adjusting well to his host family in Cochabamba, so we're considering the possibility of letting him go to save him from a long series of flights and moving around the states while we get settled. But as soon as we see a picture or video of him on our camera we can't imagine leaving him behind. He's only been a part of our family for a few months, but he was a great source of comfort and fun.

Here's something totally ridiculous I trained him to do back in El Puente... or did he train me?

(basket elevator video-coming soon)

Click here for the official press release from the Peace Corps regarding our evacuation from Bolivia.

This morning as we settled down for breakfast (at 10am, a little later than usual), a man walked up to our screen door. He was trying to open the door to come in, so I asked if I could help him with something. He said yes and continued trying to open the door. Since I was still in my pajamas, Mark came over to talk to him. The man asked, “Hay almuerzo?” “Is lunch available?” and Mark replied with a firm no, adding that we’re not a restaurant- we live here. Mark pointed out to him where he could get something to eat. Our neighbor, Dementia, commented that we should cook some food to sell, since there is a bloqueo out by one of the bridges that’s keeping people here. Not wanting to turn our room into an eatery or strain our already dwindling resources, we decided not to take advantage of the business opportunity.

I’m in Tarija right now and I got to watch Barack Obama accept the nomination to be the democratic presidential candidate. I’m going to buy some (hopefully) final materials for the mural including clear varnish to protect it from the elements. I got to spend almost two weeks in site with Mark before coming here and it was so nice to settle back into our somewhat domestic lifestyle. In particular, I missed cooking together and just having those little conversations that pop up when you spend 24 hours a day together. I did some laundry, which reminded me how tiring it can be to wash clothes by hand in cold water. Still, I felt that I’d accomplished something that day. We worked on the mural, completing about half of the flag border. It will be composed of about 200 international flags, each about 5 X 7 cm.

I realized I've never posted a picture of where this mural is located. Here is the view of the school building as you approach it from the center of town.

There’s been a bit more political turbulence lately in Bolivia, since the recall vote on August 10. We were sent to Santa Cruz with all other volunteers during this time, since there was some question over whether everything would pass tranquilamente. Ironically, the only violence we saw on TV was that of South Georgia, our new country director’s previous residence. During “consolidation” we attended project workshops, safety update meetings, watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, and commiserated with our fellow volunteers. It was nice to meet the volunteers who have entered the country more recently than us. We also spent a decent amount of time by the pool. It was a bit surreal because we had taken over this resort about an hour outside the city of Santa Cruz. It barely felt like we were in Bolivia, except that the meals were lacking in vegetables besides potatoes. Here's one of the main buildings we had our meetings in, plus a picture of all 150 or so of the volunteers listening attentively to something.

Once the word came through from DC that we were okay to head back to our sites, the flights were arranged and we were out of there. We did a little shopping in Tarija and then headed back to our site with Roque.It’s crazy to think that we have only a little more than 7 months left in our service here. We’re starting to think about where we might travel on our way home, which is exciting and intimidating at the same time. We’ve talked about traveling around south america and then possibly driving home from Panama. We’ll see what really happens when the time comes.

I’ve been working on my watercolor skills, since it’s pricey and tricky to get a hold of oil painting materials here. I’ve also gotten a copy of Photoshop and Illustrator (thanks to my parents and a fellow volunteer/courier) that I plan on training myself with to see what I might do as a professional artist. The process of designing and painting this mural has gotten me thinking about what it’s be like to take myself more seriously as an artist/designer. It’s been particularly rewarding to be doing this project at a school, where it naturally lends itself to conversations in English, discussions of worldly things, and fun.

On August 15th, El Puente celebrated St. Roque's Day. I don't know too much about Catholic saints, but in Bolivia at least, this is the story. San Roque was a leper with a very loyal dog. So loyal that it followed him when he had to move into a leper colony and the dog brought him bread everyday (I haven't met a Bolivian dog who could hold bread in his mouth without eating it). The dog would lick Roque's wounds and they would miraculously heal. I may have missed a part of the story but it sounds like the dog should be the saint rather than Roque. The way this is celebrated is by honoring dogs. In Tarija there's actually a parade with decorated dogs and men in shrouds to hide their symbolic leprosy. The men carry sticks that they flick, which was supposedly what lepers used to have to do to warn people they were around. In El Puente, all we saw were decorated dogs, no parades. Here are our landlady's dogs, proud of their colorful collars.

The main thing I've been focusing on with the school garden this year, instead of weed pulling, is the introduction of broccoli. They've been growing cauliflower, but they didn't know what broccoli was! So I bought some seeds in Tarija, planted them in my home garden and transplanted them into the school's garden. I wasn't sure if they'd survive the shock of being transplanted, but here they are. The first batch yielded 9 plants, and I've got 8 more to transplant when I get back.

I bought Roque a little shirt at the festival of all things miniature, Santa Anita. He was not amused. I guess it restricted his arms a little and threw off his balance, so he couldn't walk without falling over. I took it off of him promptly after this photo was taken.

Click here to see Peace Corps Volunteers (including Erica) caught on tape being consolidated on August 5. The report blows the situation out of proportion in my opinion.

I've been working on this post for quite some time and have finally had the time and internet access to finish it...

So back in February while descending a local peak with my friend Dan I slipped a little and felt a strange sensation in my right knee. My knees usually hurt on decents and I didn´t really think it was anything out of the ordinary. I was wrong. I would find out a few months later that I had a grade II meniscus tear and a slight ACL tear. Damn.

My knees were sore for a few days after the hike, but again I thought it within the realm of normal. The soreness went away and I thought everything was fine. About ten days after the hike, my right knee started to swell up and became warm to the touch. It hurt pretty much all the time and was even uncomfortable to lay in bed. Strangely, at the same time I was having a weird thing going on with my left thumb. It's hard to describe, but basically every morning my thumb would be "stuck" in an extended position. I could bend it, but it was painful and felt like it needed to pop. I could feel and see the knuckle "jumping" every time I flexed my thumb. After about an hour or so it would gradually loosen up and work normally, but then be sore later in the day.

I have arthritis in my family and at first we thought I was just experiencing symptoms at a young age. I was a little bummed out at the thought of arthritis at 32 and hoped it was something different. We also thought maybe gout since I was experiencing symptoms in multiple joints. (Another member in our group was diagnosed with gout during training.)

The first week of March I went into Tarija for tests. I met with an orthopedist, had X-rays taken of my knees and hands, and blood tests to check for gout. Unfortunately, there was no MRI machine in Tarija. Everything came back negative. The X-rays showed no bone damage, the blood test revealed no gout. The doctor diagnosed my thumb as "pulga agitado" -- stuck thumb -- and tendonitis in my knee. He prescribed me 14 sessions of physical therapy.

The PT was almost a joke. It was in a beauty-salon-type-place where I received a vigorous daily massage of my knee and thumb, a mud/herb wrap, ultrasound, and a donut shaped "healing magnet" placed around said joints. My therapist, Rene, had treated many PC volunteers over the years and knew much more gossip than I had ever heard. Oh yeah, the place was located on the fourth floor of a building with no elevator. So after the two weeks of PT neither my thumb nor my knee were really feeling any better. Luckily, we were about to attend our one-year medical checkups in Cochabamba where we could see specialists and have a more complete physical.

In Cochabamba I was diagnosed with a cyst in my thumb and authorized for an MRI on my knee. The docs said I had a cyst growing on the tendon that moves the thumb back and forth. The cyst was preventing my thumb from extending and my options were minor surgery or a cortisone shot to shrink it down. The cortisone shot would be a temporary solution and the docs said it would be painful but would restore full movement to my thumb. I had the cortisone shot, it hurt, and like magic one day later my thumb was back to normal. Erica and I took our Costa Rican vacation and after we returned to Bolivia I had the MRI completed in La Paz. It was exciting having an MRI, my first, and feeling that I would finally understand what was going on with my knee.

Two weeks later the PC doctors called from Cochabamba and confirmed the injury to my knee. They told me that I would be authorized to have surgery in either Washington DC or Panama. Within a week I found out I would be medi-vac'd to Panama for knee surgery.

Because PC has the policy that we must always fly on US based airlines whenever possible I was to fly to Panama via Miami. I spent a few hours in the Miami airport for my first time in the US since January 2007. I had a Caesar salad and visited the Starbucks while generally being in awe at the cleanliness and efficiency of the United States.

I arrived in Panama late on a Wednesday night and was met at the airport by PC Panama medical staff who drove me to the hotel I would end up staying in for a month. Friday I had a new MRI done, since they said the Bolivian MRI was "horrible."

I went to the mall and saw some movies over the weekend. I was awed at the size of the mall and the bus station. I also went to see the wreckage of a helicoptor that crashed in the city the first day I was there.

I met with the surgeon the following Monday and was scheduled for arthoscopic knee surgery on Thursday. I had never had surgery before and was pretty scared. I asked many questions and talked as much as I could with Erica who had stayed behind in Bolivia. I was a little upset at the discrepancies that were coming up between the medical info I received in Bolivia and the new info from Panama. In Bolivia I was told the procedure would only require local anesthesia, I would only spend one night in the hospital, and all my rehab would be done in Bolivia. In Panama the doctors told me I would be placed under general anesthesia, I would spend multiple nights in the hospital, and my weeks of rehab would take place in Panama. We tried during the last days to have Erica make the trip to Panama, but it just did not work out.

I checked into the hospital with the help of Ricardo, the PC Panama medical assistant. We became friends during the month I spent there and he was wonderful in getting me to appointments, visiting me in the hospital, and just providing support. PC Panama alternates between two hospitals and I had the fortune of being in turn for the new, lujo (luxurious) Johns Hopkins hospital.

(PC Panama office, Ricardo and I, Johns Hopkins hospital)

I checked in and that same say had my surgery. It was a quick procedure and everything went well. I was pretty out of it the first night but felt OK and was able to receive calls in my room from Erica, my mom, and Erica's mom. They all helped me to feel better and were relieved to know the surgery went well.

(My surgeon, Dr. Samuel Edwards, and me just after the surgery)

I felt much better the second day and began my PT in the hospital on day three. I had crutches to get around the room and had to use this funny chair for my first showers.

The nurses were all very nice and helpful and were attentive to any need I had. I ended up spending four nights in the hospital and was discharged Monday around noon. Ricardo was there to pick me up and take me back to the hotel. My first few days back in the hotel were difficult. I no longer had the help of the nurses, or three meals being delivered to my room. I also had to get myself to the hospital complex for my continuing PT. I used crutches for the first week, then a cane for the next ten days. The PT in Panama was excellent. I had ultrasound, electric muscle stimulation, and multiple machines to use to begin strengthening my leg and knee.

(View from roof of hotel)

When I was just about finished with the PT, after a month in Panama, I received the news that my brother had lost his battle with cancer. Steve was diagnosed with intestinal cancer in December of 2006. Erica and I traveled to San Diego to visit with him and his family before we left the country in Jan 07. My sister Rebecca kept me up to date via email and ocasional phone conversations while we were in Bolivia. Steve had multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, and some holistic medicine. Throughout his illness he improved at times and always kept an incredible attitude and fighting spirit. He passed away on June 24, 2008.

PC Washington received the phone call from my sister and within 24 hours I was on a plane from Panama heading for San Diego. PC Bolivia also sprung into action and within six hours had sent someone to pick up Erica from our little town and she was on a plane 36 hours later. I arrived in San Diego a day before her and we met up at the San Diego airport after being apart for just over a month. The unexpected trip home was surreal. I was grateful that we had spent time with Steve before we left the country but incredibly sad that I was not there during his hardest time.

We spent a few days in San Diego with family and attending Steve's services. It was a very emotional time for us.

In San Diego Erica and I stayed at a Best Value Inn. It was by far the nicest accommodations we'd had since we first left the US.

In San Diego I spent time with my sisters and was treated to a great birthday dinner complete with an ice cream cake.

Erica and I left San Diego and traveled north to spend some more time with our families and see friends. We did not have a car or a cell phone so we used all sorts of public transportation and pay phones. Riding the train from San Diego to LA was quite nice as it was right along the coast.

Riding Greyhound from LA to Sacramento was not quite as enjoyable. We visited with some friends in LA and I got to drive my truck around. It was a bit surreal to be driving again after a year and a half.

(Fun with Greyhound)

We had a dinner with my dad and his family in Stockton and then he drove us up to my mom's house in Cameron Park. We settled down for a few days, celebrated the 4th of July, and got to spend a day with our dog Luna at Folsom Lake.

Erica's parents picked us up in Sacramento and we headed to their house in Livermore. We had a few more days with her family and saw some friends in the Bay area.

Since I had come to the US while on medi-vac status, I had to return to Panama to receive the "all-clear" from the PC doctors. I left the US July 9th and returned to Panama to complete the medical clearance process. Thankfully, the PC Panama staff was aware of my desire to return to Bolivia and get back to my work. They expedited the process, I met with the doctors and was medically cleared on the 11th. I spent the weekend taking in some of the sights of Panama city and Sunday July 13, my 33rd birthday, I was on my way back to Bolivia.

Because PC Panama worked quickly my flight plan was a bit crazy. I left Panama city at 3:00AM, arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica at 5:00AM, had a four hour layover, then on to Lima, Peru, where I had a 10 hour layover. Finally I arrived in Santa Cruz, Bolivia just after 2:00AM. I was exhausted but happy to be back in Bolivia.

During my birthday on the planes I felt like quite the experienced South American traveler. Since Erica and I had recently been to Costa Rica and we had taken our honeymoon in Peru a few years prior I felt comfortable in both places. I passed through customs in both countries and went into the cities for food. In San Jose I knew there was a Denny's a short walk from the airport and went there for breakfast.

In Lima, Erica and I had discovered a wonderful Chinese restaurant and I was able to successfully navigate the city buses to find it again. I enjoyed a dinner of spring rolls and stir fry beef noodles and walked around the historic city center. The food was as tasty as I ever remembered. By the time I cleared customs in Bolivia I had stamps from four countries in 24 hours.

It took another day for me to fly to Tarija where I was finally able to see my friends and feel like I was home. The docs in Panama had prescribed me another week of PT to be done in Bolivia so I spent the week in the city and was able to meet Erica at the airport when she arrived from the US.

A few days passed and we found out that all the volunteers were being moved to Santa Cruz in case violence broke out during national elections. We had a multiple day conference, got to meet new volunteers, and were again reunited with friends from our group who we rarely see. Finally we left Santa Cruz, flew back to Tarija, and headed back to our real home of El Puente.

I was very excited to get home as I had been gone for almost two months. Our first few days back in town I realized again the joys of living in such a unique environment. In the 500-person town of El Puente we are close with only a few families, yet I would guess that everyone knows who we are. I had many people greet me, welcome me back, ask about my knee and wish me well. I felt missed and appreciated and proud that we had succeeded in becoming part of their community.

I got back to my routine of reading, exercising, meditating, cooking, and working. I also had picked up a harmonica and some books and began teaching myself how to play. I helped Erica with the mural and got back to assisting the high school english teacher with his lessons and skills. Our friend Dan came out and visited and we worked on the mural and hiked a mountain I had been eyeing for some time.

I was eager to test out my knee and my new treking poles that my mom had bought for my b-day. What a great feeling it was to hike another 10,000 ft mountain and have absolutely no pain in my knee. Thank you Dr. Edwards for fixing my knee!

(The mountain)

(Views from top)

Dan is a great guitar player and while he was visiting I had my first chance to play harmonica with some backup. We also went over to the house of a local family that we are close with. The two boys had asked me in the past to help them learn to read music. They have an electric bass and guitar, and keyboard, and a full drum set. When I had visited before I had my trumpet and it was difficult to play with them. This time was different. Dan and Erica took turns on the guitar, I played harmonica, and Erica even played set for a little while. Before long Dan had taught the older son, Reynaldo, the basic blues bassline and we were off. It was amazing. I doubt they had ever heard the blues and most certainly had never played them. Dan also showed the chords for Wild Thing and we took turns soloing and backing each other up. The younger son, Leopoldo, is quite a good drummer and he was able to keep up and add some of his own style. The mom and dad came in and were speechless. She brought us some of her fresh baked bread and tea and we shared a very special evening. They had never seen a harmonica and I encouraged them all to try it. The younger sister, Elida, was the most curious and she had a great ear and was able to play along. Unfortunately we did not take any pictures, but we did videotape a bit of the jam session. I think it will prove to be one of our favorite moments captured on film.

Erica and I spent two more weeks in El Puente, playing the blues almost daily and loving our new hobby. We had been in site just over a month when the political atmosphere began to rapidly deteriorate. There were marches and protests in the main cities and bloqueos throughout the country. We experienced our second bloqueo in El Puente complete with dynamite and we watched a frightening rock fight between opposing groups. A few days later the US ambassador was expelled and then PC called us all to Cochabamba for safety and possible evacuation. You are probably already aware of what happened next.

We will write about that experience in a separate post. I'll close with a picture of our neighbor and friend Dementia and her son who had come to visit a few weeks before everything changed.

Hasta luego,

Marcos

I only had a couple of hours to pack since someone had already been dispatched from Tarija to pick me up in our site when I found out I'd be flying to San Diego to meet Mark.

One of our first days in San Diego, we decided to participate in the US economy. We took the bus from our hotel to the Old Town Transit Center, from where we could walk to lots of places to shop. We were looking for the Target in particular, and we knew where it was in general, but couldn't see it. So we started walking the right direction, cutting between buildings that got in our way. We stumbled into a courtyard that had very prominent video surveillance and realized where we had found ourselves.

If you are unable to zoom in to read the sign, it says: "San Diego Psychiatric Hospital."Getting around without a cell phone sucks. At the Transit Center, the first payphone I tried had no dial tone. The second had a tone but also a background noise that covered up the voices on the other end of the line. Both were suspiciously sticky. Who cleans payphones, and how often? Finally I found another bank of phones that worked. We had purchased a 7-Eleven prepaid phone card, but it lasted way fewer minutes than it advertised.

I'm really impressed with all the readily available technology, lots of people with blackberries in particular. I have a 3X5 spiral notebook with important phone numbers and lists that I was referring to as my palm pilot until someone politely mentioned that palm pilots are like, SO, out. I prefer mine because it doesn't have to be charged or sync'd. I almost lost it during a trip to Target where I put it down underneath some DVDs I'd been looking at. I freaked out briefly but found it by retracing my steps.

My parents and Mark's mom arrived in San Diego that weekend because we weren't sure how long we'd be in the states. My brother and his wife and kids also came down from the OC, so I got to meet my niece for the first time and spent some time on the beach with them. After that day, Mark and I decided to make the trip north to get to see our moms more. Since we had no vehicle (and my driver's license had expired) Mark and I decided to take public transportation as much as possible. Our adventure began at the Old Town Transit Center in SD where we took the Coaster to Oceanside and then the Metrolink to Laguna Niguel, both trains. My sister-in-law picked us up at the station with the kids and took us to their house where we had our first home-cooked meal of the trip. We hung out and talked, I hit a home run with my nephew's whiffle bat (losing the ball to a storm drain), and then my brother took us to a drop off point where our good friend Evan picked us up to go to his house in Cerritos. In LA, we got to spend time with Evan and some other friends, including the maid-of-honor and best man from our wedding, who live on opposite sides of the 405 freeway from each other. We all met up at Lara's house, played Rock Band on the Xbox 360, and ate italian food. On July 2, Mark and I celebrated 3 years of marriage by buying ourselves bagels and professional massages- two things we can't get in Bolivia. If you'd asked us a month ago, I don't think either of us would have imagined we'd be celebrating the anniversary that way.

Before I left our site, I had been working 2-3 hours a day on the mural and this is how I left it:

The white circle in the upper right corner is going to be the moon. The Peace Corps symbol is in the lower left corner, since they're the ones who funded the paint for the whole project. The emblem of the school will eventually appear in the lower right corner and a compass rose will be in the upper left. The names of the countries have not yet been added, as well as some revisions of national borders and black in-fill around the globe for contrast.

These are closer up shots of the 3 national symbols that I painted on the Bolivia map. The first is a flower called the Kantuta, which actually grows on a bush near the mural (not shown). The following flower is called a Patujú (pah-too-HOO) and grows in the tropical regions of Bolivia.

Finally, the escarapelo badge, which we were adorned with when we swore in as volunteers back in April 2007.

We were invited to attend a quinceñera. It was hosted at the local evangelical church, so we sat through a service first, and then the ceremony began. There were 14 pairs of children of various ages- each pair represented a year of life and walked down the center aisle dramatically before taking their place in a human tunnel for the birthday girl to pass through. The church was decorated with toilet paper, in the way that we'd use colored streamers, bows, and ruffles everywhere. After the ceremony, we were invited to share cake with the other 100 attendees. The cakes were made in true Bolivian fashion- they looked great but weren't that tasty. Bolivians rarely use butter in their baking. Instead they use lots of baking powder and egg whites.

I was able to be in El Puente for the 24th anniversary of the high school there, Colegio San Miguel. The night before the anniversary, the students paraded across town with candle torches and performed traditional dances in costume. Below is a picture of the senior class of CSM in their Caporales uniforms. Yes, that is velour.

There are a couple new political offices that have appeared in our site: The autonomia office showed up just prior to the June 22 vote, and the MAS office (friends of Evo) appeared leading up to the August 10th recall vote.

Here is some graffiti that appeared in the main plaza of Tarija. My favorite part is that they spelled Evo with a B, a common mistake in a language where the letters sound very similar. I've gotten into specifying that our last name is spelled with a B grande as opposed to a B chico.

I took a self-portrait with Roque before I left since Mark hadn't seen him recently.

Here's Roque "helping" me with the laundry.

When visiting my best friend Lara in Brentwood, Southern California, I met Anthony Kiedis. He's the lead singer for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He was sitting outside the Peet's Coffee about 2 blocks from Lara's apartment with a couple of 12-year old blonde groupies. I embarassed the begeebers out of Lara and Mark by dragging them down there to try and get a picture with him. I walked straight up to him and said, "I'm really sorry, but would you mind taking a picture?" He said, "wait a minute... what is your name?" and shook my and Lara's hands before admitting that he wouldn't feel very human if he started taking pictures with just anybody. I mentioned that we were home from the Peace Corps and he asked where we are serving. When I told him we are living in Bolivia, his eyes lit up and he asked, "So, have you smuggled in a bunch of cocaine?" I bet if I had, I would have gotten his picture. I got a little (more) nervous at this point and started spitting out random coca trivia such as where he should visit in Bolivia to see the plant growing and how many kilos of leaves it takes to produce a kilo of the powder. Answers: the Chapare, 900. After that I'm not sure what I said but the conversation ended pretty soon after. Mark had run away earlier and Lara was relieved that I had finished violating the number one rule of living in LA, that you don't get excited about meeting celebrities. We got something to drink and sat at a table out of ear and eyeshot of him and that was it. Mark told me that he saw Anthony check me out as I walked away. I'm just a little obsessed now but I'm managing by reading his autobiography. He's had a pretty crazy life, and it now makes a little more sense why he asked about cocaine so frankly.

We had already noticed the slower pace of life in Bolivia compared to the states. What I've been told is that the concept of time in Bolivia is based on the Incan idea that time is circular. Any event in time occurs somewhere on the circle, and if the event is missed it can be recaptured on the following trip around the circle. This is much different than USA time, which is more linear, thus the appearance of efficiency, punctuality, and difficulty letting go.

The last time I'd been in the states was late August 2007. During that trip I pretty much bottomed out in the depression rut I was in at the time. It is comforting to notice that I feel 200% better on this visit. So what has changed? Since the first trip, I have learned enough Spanish to understand what people are saying 85% of the time and also enough for me to express myself in Spanish. When I couldn't do either of those things, it was very frustrating. I've made friends in our little town with whom I share baked goods and tea, women who I will miss when the time comes for us to leave. And I've found projects that I enjoy and feel capable of working on.

We took the greyhound/crucero bus from Norwalk to LA Union Station, then on to Stockton via Coalinga junction. Compared to the bolivian bus system, greyhound was way disorganized although once we were on the bus it was ok. They seem to not keep track of the number of tickets sold for a certain route relative to the capacity of the assigned bus. Therefore, the bus that arrived at Norwalk was full, leaving us to miss our connection bus in LA since we had to wait for a backup bus. The next bus arrived an hour later, took us to LA Union, where we had to wait another 3 hours. Since there are no assigned seats and there is uncertainty about there being enough seats, everyone waits in line as soon as a gate is assigned to a certain bus line. It was a colorful group hanging around, not excluding us. I'm pretty sure we ran into multiple people recently released from the psychiatric hospital, who seemed to be comfortable talking to us because of Mark's hair. In general, the population of greyhound riders were mentally or physically disabled (thus unable to drive themselves) or of lower socioeconomic status. The only reason anyone would ride the bus is because it is significantly cheaper than Amtrak or flying. The inherent cost is the loss of many hours of your life, waiting for greyhound to get their act together. We saw no businessmen traveling on the bus, but most people had cell phones. We were having to use the payphones to update people on our location. The bolivian bus system is used by people of all walks of life. Busses are frequent and relatively reliable. When you buy your ticket, you reserve a particular seat and you know it's yours. You get a claim ticket for any luggage you place under the bus. All this comes for 2-3 dollars. We paid $50 each to get from LA to stockton.

Mark's dad, Matt, picked us up at the station in Stockton and took us out to dinner with his family. It was dollar taco night at the restaurant where Matt's son David works, so we grubbed there. After dinner, Matt was kind enough to drive us to Cameron Park where Mark's mom lives. We spent the 4th barbecuing and watching TV, the first down-time we'd had on the trip so far.

While we were in Sacramento, we broke Luna out of the boarding resort, took her to the vet for vaccinations and a nail trim, and then took her to Folsom Lake. She and Mark hiked around for an hour while I took a nap in the shade of a tree and then we ate a picnic lunch. Luna's gained about 10 lbs since her surgery last spring, so she was looking a bit barrel-shaped. Once she's back in our care, we'll be able to get her diet and exercise worked out to get rid of that weight, which is bad for her mildly displasic hips.

We were also able to get a glimpse of Maya, Mark's Mexican calico, who is living with an aunt and uncle in Sacramento. She keeps to herself, spending the night in the basement and coming out to bask in the sun during the day. Finally, there's Javier, the grey tabby living with my parents. He's living the good life and looks very healthy. SACRAMENTO:

We had dinner at El Navillero, a family owned and operated mexican restaurant in south Sacramento. Mark's been going there for years. It was so much food! We also went to the Leatherby's creamery, a family ice cream parlor that was one of our favorite Sacramento dining establishments. Luna's not the only one who has gained 10 lbs lately.

Debating with Republicans. One of Mark's relatives claims that if Obama is elected, he will make the white man pay. I reminded her it's a good thing she's mexican.

Mark left a week before me to return to Panama. He was checked out by his knee surgeon and cleared to return to Bolivia for two more weeks of physical therapy. I had only been booked a one-way ticket to the states, so when I called to schedule my return flight, there weren't many flights available. This enabled me to stay with my parents for an additional week during which I was able to visit friends in the bay area and to be moral support for my mom's surgery.

Being back in the states left me feeling self- conscious about certain things. I think my sense of what was socially acceptable was a bit altered. For example, I noticed that people weren’t talking about their general digestive health as much as PC volunteers do. My nephew was talking about how he enjoyed swimming in the pool, but it sounded like he was saying “swim-in-poo” so I discussed with him how gross that would be. My brother was not amused- fair enough. When we were traveling on public transportation, I noticed that I’m used to it being okay to strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger. Also, blatently staring at people for extended periods of time is perfectly fine in Bolivia. In the US, not so much. As far as getting around town, I’m totally used to making judgment calls at intersections and I’m sure I could’ve been ticketed for jaywalking multiple times.

In closing, I'd like to thank American Airlines, for waiving my checked baggage fees. A 65lb rolling suitcase and a 55lb duffle bag- pretty far over the normal person's baggage weight.

I´ll start by going back to Good Friday, when I was invited to participate in a Bolivian tradition. Sulema, who runs a local restaurant, invited me to join her to make 12 different plates of food without using red meat. I peeled potatoes with a knife for a while and then gave in and fetched our peeler, which all the women were amazed by. Sulema told me I must leave her all of our things when we leave. Earlier I had given her two cat toys (which she offered to buy from us) for her youngest daughter, Mallen (pronounced My "N"). After peeling potatoes and fava beans, we cooked up several plates- falling short of the required 12. The various dishes were: sardines with potatoes, squash and potatoes with fresh cow cheese, chicken foot soup (also featuring chicken stomach), and arroz con leche. I didn´t get any of the latter which was the plate I was looking forward to the most. Later, Salta feasted on the leftover foot and stomach that I brought home for him.

On Easter morning, I attended Catholic Mass, which was originally planned to start at 8am but didn´t start until after 10am. The church was overflowing, with lots of people standing. Inside, there were very few decorations, one being the currently vacant glass display case normally encasing Jesus. Marigolds were used as "Easter roses" to decorate the pews. The service included a wedding, multiple baptisms, and communion. This was my first Catholic communion, and I didn´t get any wine! Only the adults from the wedding and the priest got wine, the rest of us only got a little dry wafer (and a blessing). The priest took an extra couple of swigs to empty the chalice before rinsing it with holy water, which he also drank. After the service, I joined a group of older women and the priest to zapatear (literally ¨to shoe¨ but meaning to dance) in front of the church with a fiddle player, Don Ramon. He invited me to the wedding reception to drink chicha and wine, eat soup and a plate with chicken, potatoes, and corn on the cob.

Work at the school garden has slowed down since the weed takeover during the rainy season. I did get to help the principal harvest onions we planted back in September. We dug up 10 kilograms in about 1 1/2 hours, using pickaxes. Unfortunately, about a third of the crop had been ruined by an accidental flooding during the time that the onions should have been drying out.

I completed my first mural ever, in La Merced, the site of Alana. We started by preparing the wall, then traced on an outline of Bolivia. We then had the elementary students help color in each of Bolivia´s 9 departments. I added BOLIVIA over the top.

The final steps were to write in the names and paint the flag of each department. It was dark when I finished, so I wasn´t able to take a great picture of the finished product. Tuesday, April 1 was the anniversary of the school, and we finished on March 29th, so it´s good we got the mural done in time. Here´s one of my helpers.

During the second to last day of painting, the river nearby got noisy all of a sudden. We ran down to see what was happening and saw it rising. Along the banks of the river were 40 year old peach trees growing and cows grazing. I spoke with a worried farmer who said that in 1992, the river rose above where we were standing, up into the town itself.

On the last day, Alana and I ate lunch with the kindergardeners. There was one 4 year-old girl with strawberry colored hair who in the middle of her meal announced, "I like to kill birds and eat them."

In order to get from Alana´s site back to Tarija, I had to flag down a mini-van sized taxi on the road. The ride was very entertaining since it included a soundtrack of Dire Straights, Rod Stewart´s "If you think I´m sexy," Men at Work, the original "I will survive," and "Eye of the Tiger."

Another map project I´m working on is creating a manual for Peace Corps for other volunteers to be able to paint South America maps in their sites. This would complement the already existing World Map project, which is distributed to PC volunteers worldwide. I figure my manual would be useful for volunteers in latin american countries in particular. Below is a picture of a the World Map project completed by a previous volunteer in Alana´s site.

We have begun the World Map project in El Puente as well. There is a large cement retaining wall behind the high school that is a perfect location. The oldest students are working on their own map of Bolivia while Mark and I lay out the grid to enlarge the world map to the appropriate size. The dimensions of world map will be about 2.25 X 4.5 meters. That´s over 6X12 feet.Below is Adonia Chambi, our neighbor and one of my best friends in our site. I help her with her English and her family gives us fruit and vegetables from their store. We´ve gone to play basketball a couple times but then the ball got punctured by a variety of spiny plant parts on the court. We decided to try leaving Salta in our site while we traveled, and so asked Adonia to feed and water the cat as well as making sure he comes in at night. An additional benefit of having her watch the cat is that she was able to save our vacation by sending us our passports, which I had left in site when I came into the city. Luckily I´d gotten the phone number of her house before I left. I called her and described where our passports were (and what they looked like, since she´s probably never seen one before) in our room. She then put them in a plain brown envelope and sent them to us in Tarija through a system called ¨encomienda¨. Encomienda means you send stuff on the bus to be dropped off (with receipts) at an office. We´d asked her to use one of the bigger buses that passes by in the morning, but she must have missed it and used the smaller, more local bus called the Guadalupana. The "office" of this bus is located in the busy campesino market, and consists of a public storage unit sized garage with a teenager keeping track of what comes and goes with a handwritten roster. As we approached, I saw our envelope sitting on top of a bunch of others and was relieved to know that the system really worked, even for somewhat irreplaceable documents. I now have more faith in encomienda than I do in the national mail service (which recently ended a 2-week strike).Another girlfriend of mine is Eugenia, who runs a store across the street from us. She and I decided to make a birthday cake for a community member. Another of our neighbors, Dementia, has a store as well. One day she was washing her hair, which is normally stored in braids. Once we took this picture, she asked us to take a picture in her store as well.

So you´re probably wondering what this entry´s title is all about. We live in a complex with about 5 other rooms, all under the roof of Doña Nely. She´s a 67 year-old Bolivian who has never been out of the department of Tarija. Her husband died about 20 years ago, her only son lives in El Puente, and her daughters live in Santa Cruz and Spain. Recently I´ve been becoming aggravated over the fact that whenever I see her, she tells me I´m doing something wrong. For example, I have lots of potted plants and she complains about how much my watering increases her water bill. I have offered to pay a little more, but it seems she just doesn´t want me to have the plants in the first place. She doesn´t like cats, saying that they are from the devil and that they are ¨cochinos¨ (pigs) because they poop in the dirt. Yesterday, she started up about my plants again and it was the last straw. I started to cry, which is what I do when I´m angry and not expressing myself, so I went inside to hide. She figured out I was crying and asked about me so I came out and did the best I could to explain how frustrating it is to always be criticized. Of course, I was still crying a bit and she started to feel bad, too. All in all, I´m glad I told her to be nicer, I just wish I didn´t have to cry about it first. We´ve noticed that she´s often nicer when she´s a little drunk, so maybe I should just invite her to a beer when I want to talk to her. Here she is with her dog, Benjamin.In early April, we spent a great week in Cochabamba getting to catch up with other B44 volunteers as well as some of the new B47s and outbound B41s. The first three days were spent attending personalized appointments with physicians, dentists, dermatologists, and orthopedists. Mark and I each had only one cavity, due to older fillings. It was by far the most painful drilling experience I´ve had, due not to lack of technology nor talent on the dentist´s part, but because it was a deep cavity in a back molar. It´s all fixed now. Mark had a better experience with the dentist. We both got flu shots, which left me with a dark bruise on my arm and Mark with the flu itself. Unfortunate timing, considering that we left for Costa Rica the following weekend (see more about that below). The last two days in Cochabamba were spent discussing our projects, visiting various NGOs in the valley, and getting security updates from PC staff. Here is our group (down to 21 from the original 29 members) That´s right, Costa Rica! We went to see one of my best friends, Marina, get married at her Irish fiancé´s parents´ house in San Isidro de Heredia, about 30 minutes northeast of the capital city, San José.

Costa Rica was far more developed than Bolivia is, with metered taxis, highways casinos, and TWO Denny´s restaurants. Of course, we had to take advantage of classic diner food. On three separate occasions.After the wedding, we headed out to the Caribbean to get some much needed beach time. On our way there we stopped for a lunch break and were left behind by our bus. A man at the rest stop helped us flag down an emergency taxi and called the bus driver to wait for us. Miraculously, the taxi caught up with the bus and we were able to continue our trip.

We passed through Puerto Viejo to Punta Uva, where we stayed at a small resort called ITAITA. We highly recommend that place if you ever go to Costa Rica. There were very few guests at the resort, which was composed of small bungalows with patios and hammocks- a five minute walk from the beach. That night we were unable to find an open restaurant to have dinner at, so the resort manager offered to make us a plate of gallo de pinto. As we were eating, a crab crawled onto the patio trying to get into the kitchen and was shooed away by an employee. The next day we realized that the ground around the resort was covered in crab holes. As we walked around, the crabs would retreat into their homes almost mechanically. It reminded me of some sort of amusement park ride. Hanging around the bungalows were small, chirping geckos, which reminded me of our visits to Mexico. Punta Uva is about 5 km from Puerto Viejo, a very touristy place. We rented bicycles and rode there the first day for lunch and to act touristy. We found a great restaurant with strawberry daquiri happy hour and delicious coconut shrimp and spent as much time as possible there. The next day we rode our bikes south to Manzanillo, where we ate a picnic lunch on the beach and later got ripped off at the only restaurant there. We do NOT recommend Maxi´s restaurant because it was expensive and the food wasn´t that great. However, on the road between Punta Uva and Manzanillo we heard an explosion of howler monkeys and were able to locate them hanging out in the trees. During our picnic lunch, I carved up a fresh mango and chowed down (the mango juice all over my face can´t quite be made out in this photo).

On May 10th, we were invited to Bobby and Rocio´s wedding in Tarija. Bobby is an agriculture volunteer from our group who had been dating Rocio, a bolivian, for about a year. He plans to stay in Bolivia after completing his service, and his mother is going to move here from Florida to retire as well. The photo below includes (from left to right) Bill, Dan, Bobby, Christian, Mark, and Tim.

Here are the ladies: Stephanie, me, Julia, Rocio, and her friends.

So it has been awhile since my last post... 5 months now. As Erica reported, we had a rough time toward the end of the year being robbed the day after Christmas at the Tarija bus terminal. What Erica did not say is that I was also robbed about four weeks prior while in Santa Cruz with my mom. This robbery complicated things for us in more than one way. I´ll try to make this tale as short as possible...

My mom visited during the Thanksgiving holiday and we had a great time. She flew into Bolivia via La Paz and we met her at the airport in Tarija. We spent one night in Tarija and then headed out to our home in El Puente. Mom brought us lots of goodies and presents from Erica´s parents as well. Here we are looking through our booty.

We spent five tranquilo days in El Puente. We cooked some good food, took mom on some short hikes, and she met our friends and work partners in town. She had a wonderful time in our site and fell right into sync with the slow campo lifestyle. We headed back into Tarija for Turkey Day and so that she could meet the rest of the Tarija volunteers. Here we are waiting for the bus in El Puente.

We enjoyed a nice traditional US Thanksgiving meal and had a rare opportunity to be with all 20 or so Tarija volunteers. After Thanksgiving we went on a hike just outside of Tarija to a set of twin waterfalls. The same place that Erica and I would later spend Christmas day. We took a lunch and spent the day at the river enjoying the water.

After almost two weeks in Bolivia it was time for my mom to return to California. We do not have an international airport in Tarija so she was flying out of the city of Santa Cruz on an early morning flight. Because the flight was so early she had to leave Tarija one day prior and spend the night in Santa Cruz. Mom did not want to go alone, so I bought a ticket with the plan to accompany her for the night and then get back to Tarija. Well things did not work out so smoothly.

First of all, Bolivia is a very passionate country and is currently going through a sort of political identity crisis. Just before we arrived last January the country voted on an "Autonomia" referendum. A choice was put to the people whether to grant greater power to the departments (states) and therefor take power away from the federal government. Well 4 of the 9 departments voted in favor of Autonomia and one was 51%-49% against. Offically the referendum did not receive a majority of the total votes and lost, but the four departments that voted in favor believed they had a mandate from their people and moved forward on the path toward Autonomia. The federal government disagreed with the local governments and there has been tension ever since.

Tarija is one of the departments which voted in favor of Autonomia and we have seen countless marches, work stoppages, hunger strikes, and massive roadblocks (known as bloqueos.) Whenever things start to get a little crazy Peace Coprs activates their Emergency Action Plan. (EAP) In the year plus that we have been here we´ve experienced at least 6 EAPs. During an EAP we are not allowed to travel and have to call into the central office every day. The central office then reports to Washington DC on each volunteer´s whereabouts and status. We were told during training that one of the easiest ways to be kicked out of Peace Corps was to be non-compliant during an EAP. Follow? OK, back to the mom story...

So in the days around Thanksgiving things were again heating up in the political spectrum. There was talk of huge marches and department-wide work stoppages. The morning my mom and I were to fly to Santa Cruz, Peace Corps initated an EAP. To make my situation more complicated, I had not applied for vacation leave and just hoped to travel to Santa Cruz and back under the offical PC radar. So with an EAP in effect, and traveling without permission, I flew with my mom to Santa Cruz. We checked into a hotel and went out to a movie. When we came back I noticed that some of my things had been gone through. Upon closer inspection it was clear that I had been robbed. My iPod, GPS, and a decent amount of cash was gone. We found evidence that someone had climbed through the window and helped themselves to my things. My mom was quite angry and we tried handling the situation ourselves but were really getting the run around. I made the decision, knowing I was in violation of PC policy, to call the central office in Cochabamba and essentially turn myself in and ask for their help. We had purchased PC insurance for our stuff but needed an offical police report and a PC report in order to make a claim. In regards to the robbery, PC was wonderful. There was a US Embassy police unit there within 30 minutes and they walked me through the whole process. They brought out their own investigative unit and dusted for and found a good set of prints on the window and in the room. Eventually we got back cash value for everything lost. On the administrative front, I was worried. The next morning, as half the country was honoring a two-day work stoppage, I had to call the head administrators and hear what my fate would be. I was told not to return to Tarija, as they were considering begining Administrative Separation procedures. I had to write a letter pleading my case and had to submit copies of my flight to prove that I had not been traveling illegally for an extended period of time. After two days of sweating it out, they allowed me to return to Tarija and El Puente and to continue my service. Erica and I both received memos that we were on notice and any further violation of PC policy would earn us a ticket home. Officially, I was busted for "Non-compliance during an EAP" and Erica for "lying about the whereabouts of her husband."

I felt pretty shitty and was really down for awhile after. We were both embarrassed for a number of reasons and of course did not want to have to explain why we were kicked out of Peace Corps. The incident also made me realize even more how blessed we are to be here in Bolivia and how fragile the situation can be. Even though we`d been here almost a year and had some rough times, we were no where ready to go back home.

So after I got back to Tarija we went back to El Puente and immersed ourselves even more in our small town life. We spent a solid month in site before returning to the city for Christmas, when we were robbed again. Blah!! Peace Corps security was wonderful again and helped us through the process. We went back to EL Puente for 5 weeks this time and didn`t return to Tarija until Carnival in Feburary. Again, the extended time in site was great as we attended several b-day parties and other various fiestas. Without a doubt the robberies have helped us integrate even more into our small town culture. We are enjoying cooking and learing new recipes and improving our chopping techniques. Some of our favorite meals are: spaghetti, beef & broccoli, tacos/burritos, Thai peanut chicken & vegies, and various soups and breads. We´ve also established a mini-routine of cooking with neighbors and have learned a few bolivian dishes that we look forward to bringing back home with us. Here I am rolling out tortillas with our wine-bottle rolling pin.We have also been enjoying getting to know better our fellow volunteers. It has been great to meet good people from all over the country. We visited our friend Emilia in her site a few hours south of Tarija. Emila is from Virgina and is in the same project we are, but a year ahead of us. She has been a great source of info and help for us.We´ve also grown close to a couple who met down here, Dan and Julia. Dan is from Minnesota and is a Micro-Enterprise volunteer and Julia is from Florida and is an Environmental Ed volunteer. Both of them are city volunteers so they enjoy getting out to the countryside (campo). They came out to El Puente for a few nights and we had a great time. One day I took Dan on one of my favorite hikes to the top of a 10,000ft. peak a few miles from our house. Here we are relaxing after our outing.So overall things are good, we are happy and healthy and continue to marvel at this amazing country. We´ve learned to better appreciate the good and the bad and can hardly belive we´ve been here well over a year now. We´ve become pretty good at washing clothes by hand, have totally adapted to only 1/2 days of running water and electricity, and are still surprised that we´ve lived without a refrigerator for a year and eaten as well as we have.One thing that is still a little difficult for us is the amount and frequency of drinking in the campo. We´ve seen things pass as normal here that would be scandals in the US. Here is a shot of a restaurant that was right across the street from our house. Can you spot the man who maybe has had a little too much vino? Finally, we´ve loved our cat and being friendly to all the animals in town who look like they could use a good scratch behind the ear. They all most definitely help keep us sane and remind us of home.Hasta luego,Marcos

The day after Christmas we were at the bus station waiting to return to our site. Mark left for about two minutes to check which bus we’d be on and to get some food. A man sitting next to me asked me a question, and I wasn’t sure whether he was speaking Spanish or English or Quechua, or just mumbling. I asked him to repeat himself several times and finally said I couldn’t understand him. He got up and walked away and I got a bad feeling. So I checked our luggage and noticed that Mark’s backpack was gone. I was hoping that he’d been wearing it but when he returned it was clearly not so. The guy who was asking me questions was just distracting me so another guy could swipe Mark’s bag. I was so mad- I’d never really felt like I could punch someone until that day. I ran around the terminal looking for the guy and of course didn’t find him. We filed a police report and I got to look through a digital mug-shot collection, where I may have identified the dude. Unfortunately, they didn’t know where he lived or how to contact him. Luckily, we have insurance, so the cost of the items stolen would be replaced. What is lost forever are 3 months worth of pictures on our camera and about half of Mark’s wardrobe and personal things. Mark was really good about it, as I felt bad that I’d been the one in charge of our things. I guess the lesson we learned is that we may be safe and known in our site, but that in Tarija we’re just a couple more gringo tourists. So we’ve cranked up our travel security and smarts to avoid future losses, such as camouflaging our gringo backpacks in colorful plastic bags that all Bolivians use to travel.

I finally attached legs to the worm bin, after searching for a way to pre-drill holes into the hardwood so that I could tighten screws all the way by hand. The last step was to collect enough shredded paper (2.5 kg or about 5.5 lbs) to compose the bedding that the worms will live in and eat, along with food scraps from the kitchen. I had shredded about 1 kg by hand, and then I discovered that the PC office in Tarija has an electric paper shredder. The shredding advanced much faster with the help of this wonderful tool. When I got back to our site with everything ready but the worms, I found that our neighbor had moved the bin, thus bending some of the legs that were already a little unstable. At first I was pissed, but then I realized it was good that this weakness was discovered prior to adding another 10-15kg of mass into the top-heavy bin. So I’ll have to redesign the legs, maybe using large PVC pipe. Perhaps the bin will have to be floor-bound for the first round of worms, but I’m concerned that it might leave the bin more vulnerable to unwanted bugs.

I broke my first guitar string ever-and replaced it!

I’ve been able to integrate a little better into our community by attending birthday parties. The first one I went to was for Alan, the grandson of our landlady, who was turning 3 years old. I was invited to help “motivate” the kids at the party by our neighbor Eugenia. At first, she was trying to get me to dress up as a clown, which was way out of my comfort zone. Eventually I got her to compromise for me bringing our Frisbee and my watercolor set to give the kids temporary tattoos. When we got there, we hosted a kids dancing contest. Originally, we were going to award prizes to the best dancers, but once we started handing out the prizes, those who didn’t win started getting upset. Especially Alan’s older brother, Erik. I took some short videos on our camera and played them back for the kids, who were in complete awe. Then I started giving tattoos. The kids loved them… it was hard to get them to stand in line, and many were demanding more than one picture. The boys’ favorite tattoo was a spider on its web and the girls preferred butterflies and flowers. Dinner was served- a plate of potatoes, corn on the cob and chicken, then we sang Happy Birthday in English and Spanish and Alan cut the cake. It seems to be custom here for the birthday person to take the first bite directly from the cake, no hands. As you can imagine this often leads to the birthday person´s face being slammed into the cake, even if done gently. The last party of Alan´s party was the piñata. I was a little disappointed that there was no blindfold or baseball bat, only a string in the bottom that opened up the thing to greedy little hands below. It also seemed that the kids took as much joy in the confetti that came out as they did with the candy and toys. Little did I know that after all the kids left, the adults would keep partying. Pitchers of ¨chuflay¨ (clear soda and singani or pure alcohol) were brought out and there were only about 5 adults to drink them. I got some of them to play with the frisbee, but that became a lost cause after a short period of time.

There isn’t a recycling program in our site, so we’ve been stockpiling cans that we’ve used in cooking. One day after working on the worm bin and gathering up bent nails left over from hammering, I realized that the nails made a pretty sound when they clinked together. So I took some cans and lids and nails and made them into this wind chime.

A new project that I´ve just started involves another volunteer, Alana, who lives to the south of Tarija where it becomes semi-tropical. Here is a picture of what it looks like when you get off the bus there.

The project is to paint a mural of a map of Bolivia at the local primary school in Alana´s site. So far we´ve covered up the orange brick surface with two coats of white primer and we´ve painted the outline of each of Bolivia´s 9 departments. I´ll go back in a few weeks to help her color in each state, add labels and state flags to each department, and help the students place their handprints on the wall as well. The high school in our site has requested a world map and south america map in addition to the map of Bolivia, so I´m looking forward to doing lots of painting!

Here´s Mark with two of our landlady´s dogs, Oso and Benjamin (from left to right).

Both of the dogs are very friendly and will follow us around town if they have nothing better to do.

Here are all three of our landlady´s dogs, hanging out on a gravel pile in front of her house. Bruno is on the left, Oso in the middle, and Benjamin on the right.

Here are the last pictures I´d uploaded right before our camera was stolen. The pictures show my herb garden back in November. I´ve been able to find plants of basil, oregano, rosemary, two types of lavender, mint, strawberry, celery, and swiss chard. I´m also using my new skills to grow cilantro and basil using a seed bed and later transplanting the small plants to larger containers. I´m going to try broccoli next, since it is not sold in our town.

Here´s the garden now, with the cat included for scale. I recently planted some California poppies- would it break the law to pick them here?

Christmas was a little strange here. We were invited to view the contestants in a holiday decoration contest in our site, which turned out to be funded by the local cement factory. There were only 4 participants, all of whom were administrators at the factory. The decorations were provided by the factory as well as the prizes- a flat screen TV and a DVD player. One of the participants was really excited to meet Mark and I and brought us into his house for us to see his fossil collection. At first we thought he wanted to have us buy them, but no. He was just really into his fossils. He had even drawn a picture of a dinosaur and framed it to hang over his cabinet of fossils.

On Christmas Eve, we were treated to an american style dinner at a local 5-star hotel courtesy of Winston´s mom and brothers. Winston is a Tarija volunteer who will be done with his service in April. His family brought cranberry sauce, stuffing, country ham, festive holiday music, santa hats, and even put together a little gift bag of chocolates for each of us. That night at midnight, the city erupted with fireworks as if it were the 4th of July. The next day, Mark and I hiked up to a set of local waterfalls and spent the day at the river. I was feeling pretty homesick, crying a lot, so we might have had more fun otherwise. I slipped on a rock and got the nastiest goose egg bruise I´ve ever had on my shin.

In order to process the melancholy I was feeling, I started to ponder ¨What makes Christmas Christmas?¨ For me, the answers were: family, fireplaces, wind up toys, homecoming, cold weather, football, and singing silent night by candlelight. Few of these things were available to me, so no wonder I didn´t feel too good.

New Year´s was a lot better for me. I decided to spend it in our site, rather than in our regional city, to see how our town would celebrate. It really paid off, because I was included in many festivities. It started by attending a service at the Assembly of God Church that´s pretty active in our town. I wasn´t sure what to expect, but it ended up being quite entertaining. They had organized skits performed by little kids to convey which actions will send you to hell, such as dancing to the wrong music or reading the wrong literature. There was a rock band (that was pretty bad) that took more time setting up their sound equipment than actually playing. My favorites were the break-dancing teenagers and the toddlers dancing and rapping to reggaetón music. Around 11pm I left to meet up with our landlady and her family to pass into 2008. I had made some cookies to share, and I got to try a tasty pork soup called picana which was outstanding. Alan, the boy whose birthday I´d attended, turned out to be her grandson, so I got to hang out with him, too. We toasted the new year with some apple cider at midnight. The next day, she had invited me to have lunch with her, which I figured was a New Year´s Day activity. About an hour before she was due to come get me, the girl who I´ve been teaching Engligh to next door, Adonia, came by to invite me to eat chicharrón with her family. Chicharrón is a slow roasted pork very similar to Mexico´s tasty carnitas. After a big plate there, I invited Adonia over to our place to hear some of our music, and the landlady showed up. I did have the heart to tell her I´d just eaten, so I went with her. The lunch turned out to be the 60th birthday party of a lady named Martha. We ate chancho al horno, which is yet another pork plate, simple and baked. It was good, but I felt as though I´d consumed an entire pig in the last 18 hours. There was a cake and lots of dancing. I ended up losing my voice because one had to scream to be heard over the loud music. After about 8 hours of this, I convinced my landlady that I couldn´t take any more and was allowed to leave.On January 13th, our landlady invited us to have lunch with her and her daughters in the common area connected to our room. It actually turned out to be her birthday party which went on for a while with lots of dancing and sharing of food and drinks.The most recent birthday party I´ve been to was for Alan´s older brother, Erik. It was pretty standard compared to the others except that once the adult part of the party started, the gate blocking the only exit was locked. I asked the hostess to open the gate for me when I was ready to leave, and she refused. She told me I needed to dance more. There were several Bolivians who were equally annoyed by this and we devised a plan to climb a ladder to the roof to escape if need be. I danced for a while, keeping an eye on the gate. Eventually a group of people left and I snuck out with them. By then I´d been there for about 8 hours. One day I was sitting on our front step drawing as school was getting out. A group of school children passed by and only one boy had the courage to approach me and ask what I was doing. Once I showed him how I was drawing he asked if I could draw on his hand. He liked the spiderweb design I'd been sketching. As I began to draw on his hand, a group of about 15 children swarmed around me to see and eventually began to demand their own "tatoos." After adorning the students with spiderwebs, rats, hearts, and even my own initials, they eventually went home. A few weeks later, I ran into that first boy at a birthday party in town where I had brought my set of watercolors to give the kids tatoos. He introduced himself as Jaxel (pronounced Hacksel) and I gave him a new tatoo with a spider on the web this time. Shortly after the party, I was informed that Jaxel's mom had recently died in a bus accident and that he lived with his grandmother. He soon figured out where we live and now comes by on a weekly basis to refresh his tatoo. He turned 8 last week and I bought him his own set of watercolors so that he can practice too. I've been working with Jaxel to be more polite- saying "por favor" and "gracias." During school vacation, not many kids were around for him to play with and so my husband and I would play american football with him in the street or let him ask questions about the strange stuff in our room. It soon became clear that he was testing our limits on what we'd let him do (he would ask how much our things cost, or he'd come by 3-4 times a day and bang on the door until we opened it). We realized that we had a great opportunity to clarify our boundaries as practice for being parents some day, as well as providing a stable adult presence in Jaxel's life. Although I was uncomfortable at first, I practiced telling him no when appropriate and have continued to work on his manners by demonstrating and reinforcing them. If I haven't affected anyone else in our community, I'm sure that my relationship with Jaxel will be memorable for both of us. Salta has become a pretty decent hunter. He has caught at least two birds, a huge moth, two mice, and a guinea pig. Unfortunately, he´d rather play with his prey instead of mercifully dispatching them. We usually end up having to take the victim away and let it go while locking the cat inside until he forgets what happened.

Mark and I made homemade tortillas for the first time, which was easy but a little time consuming. Salta, of course, was very helpful. Here he´s sitting on top of our water filter.The weekend of February 2-3 was Carnaval in Bolivia. The Friday prior to Carnaval is ¨Comadres Day¨ when women get together and party. A friend of our 3rd year volunteer hooked us up with a comadres group called the Sanroqueñas. We got to wear bright pink shirts and we bought baskets full of colorful decorations, fruit, and bread. The baskets are traditionally exchanged between pairs of women who then become comadres by dancing all night long together. Here we are (Julia, Salta, and me) prior to starting the fiesta. Julia is about to finish her service but has decided to stay on as a PCVL/volunteer support person for another 6 months or so.

We paraded from the Church of San Roque down to the avenida in a snakelike fashion, dancing in pairs. We sang along with the band accompanying us... Somos, somos, somos, Sanroqueñas somos. Plata que tenemos, Plata que gastamos. This loosely translates to ¨We are the sanroqueñas. Money that we have, we spend.¨ There was a variation used that said, ¨Money that we have, we drink away.¨ Once we reached the avenida we danced the traditional Cueca dance which is done in pairs and reminds me a bit of the do-si-do from middle school PE square dancing. Each person waves a scarf in the air and it´s pretty fun. It was a little tricky because we couldn´t hear the music very well. Eventually down the parade route, the crowd seemed to be getting bored, so I entertained them by throwing grapes and pieces of bread from my basket at them and occasionally breaking into the running man or the sprinkler dance, both of which were big hits. When the parade ended, the sky opened up so we hunted down a taxi to get back to the starting place to claim a warm meal and drinks that we´d paid for. Unfortunately we would have had to wait in line standing in a flooded raquetball court to get them so we gave up and ordered pizza instead.

One of the most fun parts of Carnaval is the water-play. A little strange for a country where people deal with drought and water pollution, but ridiculously satisfying. During the period of several weeks before and after Carnaval, one can expect to be splashed with buckets of water or hit with water balloons or spray foam in any public place. The volunteers who were in Tarija for Carnaval decided to take advantage of our 3rd year´s 5th story apartment to take revenge for any attacks we´d fallen victim to in the past. Here´s a short, low-resolution video summary of what took place. (Video coming soon!)

In October I had the opportunity to participate in a "tech exchange" with other volunteers in my group. The Peace Corps promotes these Technical Exchanges as a way to see other volunteers in action and share experience, ideas, and motivation. The PC usually pays for travel expenses and some meals, and the volunteer writes a short report before and after the visit. This tech exchange would take me to the Altiplano and the surrounding communities of Oruro.

I was invited by a fellow Environmental Education Volunteer, Chelsea, to help with a trash management/recycling workshop at a school in a small community near her site in the Altiplano. During our three-month training in Cochabamba, Chelsea and I were in the same group for our major school teaching event. We presented a very similar trash workshop and worked well together and had fun, so she asked me to help. Another EE volunteer, Tiffany, lived near Chelsea and was going to help, as well as Chelsea´s boyfriend and my Tunari hiking buddy John. I was very excited to see the Altiplano, visit my friends, and do some good work.

I had a 14 hour bus ride from Tarija to the city of Oruro where Chelsea would meet me, then we would travel another two hours to her site and deliver the workshop the following day. The bus ride was remarkably smooth. We´ve heard many horror stories and have experienced a few breakdowns, so I was pleased to arrive in the city only two hours late. I left Tarija at 5:00 pm and arrived in Oruro just after 9:00 am the following day. Most of the ride was in the dark, but I could see the looming mountains and could feel the change in altitude. I had my GPS with me and would turn it on mow and then to check my location. I was amazed when around midnight we crossed the 10,000 ft. mark and never went below it again. In fact the highest point I was awake for was just over 13,000 ft. and I could still see huge mountains all around me. It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that I was riding in a bus at almost the same altitude of the highest point in the continental US.

I arrived in Oruro (12,150 ft) and Chelsea met me in the plaza and showed me around a bit. Like other places I´ve been so far in Bolivia, Oruro was like no other place I´d ever been. There are virtually no trees in the Altiplano, and it really is very plano. It reminded me of a trip I took with my friend Jeff into the deserts of Baja California where it was so flat you could look out and see for miles and miles in any direction. Wierd. And very hard to capture on camera.

(Oruro Witch´s Market selling assorted dried animals)

We did some shopping in Oruro and then left for Chelsea´s site. The next morning Tiffany and John met us and we set out for the community of Avicaya. Chelsea warned us that it would be a bit of a walk... With the help of the GPS we realized we walked six miles at an altitude of around 12,500 ft.

We were pleasantly surprised to find the school expecting us and prepared. The four of us went through a basic lesson of trash practices, how long it takes things to decompose, alternatives to throwing stuff out, and some basic demonstrations of how to reuse some common items.

We´re never sure how much impact, if any, this type of work has on the students. We know they enjoy having us in their classroom and for many of them we may be the only real exposure they have to US citizens and maybe white people at all. We always leave time at the end for the students to ask us questions. They are always shy, but usually can get started and then have some really good questions. This group was no different. We got the usual questions of what we eat, what the weather is like, what languages are spoken, which religions are practiced...etc. We also tend to always get questions eventually about September 11 and the war. I think those discussions may be just as important as the day´s topic of trash.

After the day in the communities we went back to Pacñea and waited for transport to Huari, Tiffany´s site. Huari is a slightly larger community another few hours south, closer to the mountains and Lago Poopo. It is also home to the Huari Brewery, pretty much the best of the limited Bolivian beers. No buses were passing so we got a ride from a passing city government worker Tiffany knew from Huari. John and I rode in the back and enjoyed great views of the mountains and the shores of the Lago.

We also came across a crash of a Huari beer truck which had spilled its sweet contents all over the road. Back in college I think many of us dreamed of finding an overturned beer truck, unfortunately most of the bottles had spilled in the road.

In Huari Tiffany showed us around and we played frisbee and watched the sunset over the lake. It was nice to see the sun setting on the horizon over water. I could almost believe it was California and the ocean.

We left later that night and spent the night in Oruro. The next day before I left John took me out to see his site. John may have the most rural site of everyone in our group. He is only about an hour out of the city, but to say he lives in a town would be wrong. He lives in an area made up of about 30 families spread out through a high valley (over 13,000 ft.) John loves it, but I´m sure some people would not be able to handle it. We rode in a local taxi out to his area and stopped to drop people off and the car only broke down once.

John and I spent the afternoon hiking around his site. He showed me the project he was working on -- designing and constructing a retaining wall for a mismanaged riverbed that has been slowly eroding away its banks. John is a Natural Resource volunteer and has done a great job organizing the people in his area.

We had a great time and I vowed to return to do some more hiking in the area and see more of the Altiplano. I went back to Oruro city and caught a bus for Tarija. This time my bus had more problems and we had to stop and change buses in Potosi. Way back in the day the city of Potosi was the richest city in the world. There is a huge mountain that contains a wealth minerals, mostly silver and tin. The city also lays claim to the "Highest City in the World", sitting at 13, 497 ft. Again, it was amazing. I only spent an hour or so, but I did get this picture of the famed Cerro Rico.

The story of the city is quite tragic as it was built up during the 1500s and then ruthlessly exploited. The mountain which gave the city its wealth has also taken the lives of many thousand Bolivian miners. There has also been extraordinary environmental damage and pollution of the air and watersheds. Despite its rough history, Potosi retains a charm and is major city along the "Gringo Trail" of Bolivia. It is another place I want to visit again.

So overall my trip to the Altiplano was wonderful. I did not like Oruro city too much, but the surrounding communities were beautiful. It was great to visit other Volunteers in their sites and see their work and explore their communities. I think that may be the best way to really experience the true Bolivia and see things that are certainly not in any guidebook.

As any trip though, it was great to get back to Tarija, and then home to El Puente. Erica and I continued with the school garden, continued honing our cooking skills, and continued being entertained by the cat. We also were preparing for my mom´s Thanksgiving visit.

We are coming up on one year now in Bolivia. So hard to believe. The time really is flying by and we´ve consistently heard that year two is even better than year one. We are looking forward to the holidays and my mom´s visit. Soon the schools will go on summer vacation and we´ve heard our town will mellow out even more. That is also hard to believe.

Until later...

Marcos

They say that the process of adjusting to a new culture has it´s ups and downs. You suffer from culture shock, you adjust, and then you become shocked again. I definitely feel like I´m adjusting well right now. After returning from the states at the beginning of September, I spent five days in Cochabamba, and then met up with Mark in Tarija. It was great to be back with him, my best friend and companion. Also, I was amazed at how small our cat Salta is compared to Javier at home, who weighed about 14 pounds last time I heard. We spent the weekend in Tarija, and then made the trip to our site (which can take anywhere between 2.5-14 hours, depending on your luck), which was pretty uneventful. I was feeling pretty good about being back, with some goals in mind. I actually had experienced more culture shock by being back in the states than I had returning to our small town. In the states, it took me awhile to get used to air conditioning again, which I came to appreciate, as there were several 100+ degree days. I was amazed at how easily it was to consume things while I was there, although it was pretty fun (and dangerous, with only a volunteer´s salary) walking into a Target. I also appreciated driving my mom´s car around and being able to call people on her cell phone whenever I wanted (thanks, mom!)

Before I got to the states, I was a little concerned about not speaking Spanish for almost two weeks. My concerns were pretty much discarded when I had an improvised conversation with a maid. I forget sometimes how much my spanish has improved since being here. I can remember talking with a parent of one of my science students several years ago and accidentally requesting to leave a massage (masaje) instead of a message (mensaje). I´m sure I still make some mistakes now, but I think I´ve gotten past the point of being embarassed about those mistakes. Mark and I have even been asked if we were Venezuelan, which I thought was pretty rad.

On the last day of my visit, my parents and I spent a beatiful, although overcast, day at the beach. My dad even had a close encounter with a sea lion that was pretty magical. It was hard to tear myself away from the ocean at the end of the day, but I was thankful that we had decided to make the trip. When it came time to go back to the airport, there were many tears, and we decided it was best for all of us if my parents dropped me off at the curb rather than torturing ourselves with the vagueness of a security checkpoint goodbye. I was blessed with on time flights all the way back to Tarija, and I even got to sit in a spacious exit row on one of the longer flights. I had a really short layover in La Paz and was worried that I wouldn´t make my connection flight to Cochabamba. When we arrived at customs, they seemed to be searching most people´s bags. My bags were stuffed to the brim with goodies and it would have taken a long time even to jam everything back in, let alone explain why I had so much with me. Luckily, when I pressed the stoplight-esque button that declares whether I´d be searched or not, I got the green light.

Earlier, I referred to having some goals for my experience here. I had been feeling pretty crappy, which I figured nobody really would want to read about. Mostly, I was having a lot of anxiety about speaking in Spanish and getting out of our room into the town. Part of what was happening is that I was under a lot of stress, which is pretty natural for someone in our position. I´ve now started a self-care regimen that includes daily yoga, journaling, and cooking, as well as some sort of project work each day. As I discovered when I was getting in shape for the wedding, I tend to not give myself much credit for my accomplishments and I´m always pushing myself to do MORE. It helps me a lot to write down what I´ve done so that I can see it in writing. So I´ve started adding little symbols to my calendar to show myself when I work and work out. Since then, it´s been a lot easier to get out of bed in the morning, knowing that I´ve got at least a little bit of a plan for the day. It took some humility to admit to myself that I needed a little structure and routine, which I think I had been seeing as a weakness I didn´t want to have. I give myself credit for even the smallest thing, and I still have plenty of free time.

As far as my work, things are really picking up with the school garden project. In the pictures above, you can see how much the parcel of land we work on has changed since July, when the first picture was taken. Mark and I have been mainly responsible for the construction of two seed beds, where seeds are grown closer together until they are ready to be transplanted. I´ve never been very good at keeping plants alive, so I was really excited to return from the states and see our first bed thriving with greens. We had planted lettuce, bell pepper, cabbage, swiss chard, spinach, and cauliflower in mid-August and as of now, all of those seedlings have been transplanted into larger plots. Here´s the before and after pictures of the first seed bed. I put my hand in there for scale, but in case you can´t tell, the dimensions are 1 meter wide and 5 meters long.

____________________________before __________________________(August 15) ______________________________after ______________________________(date)Since then we have built a second seed bed, with a little better design in mind than the first one. The soil is very clay based, and so we tilled in sand, manure, and ¨tierra colorada,¨ which is a rockier, better draining soil brought down from the surrounding hills. It was quite an adventure bringing the sand from the river bank, during which my wheelbarrow and I became intimately aware of every small irrigation ditch between the garden and the river. There were many places where the front wheel would get stuck and I´d have to walk around to the front and lift the wheelbarrow to keep it going. Only once did I lose about a third of the load of sand in a slow-motion sideways collapse into a small ditch. I felt a little bad because I couldn´t clear all of the spilled sand out of the ditch and I knew someone would be using the ditch to irrigate his crops. Mark was busy tilling up the area where the seed bed would be with a pick and he said watching my return trip from the river reminded him of a scene from a monty python movie where the same clip is used over and over to show a group of people rushing a castle. Everytime he looked up to see how I was progressing, I didn´t seem to get any closer.The onions that we planted around the same time as the first seed bed will be ready to harvest in February, when school is back in session. Something that isn´t working out so well is that most of the crops that are growing right now may be harvested during the school vacation, which is during the months of December and January. I guess next year, we´ll need to start the whole process earlier so that it works out better.

My other project, which is moving slowly along, is to construct and manage a worm composting bin. We had some wood left over from a home-improvement project, so after reading ¨Worms Eat My Garbage¨ which is an excellent guide, I built a table-sized bin. The worms will live and work in a bed of moist recycled paper with some added grit to help their little gizzards grind up potato peels and other kitchen left-overs. I´ve been weighing our kitchen scraps, which has averaged about 2.5 kilos per week, which will be about enough to feed 1 pound of worms. I need to gather 2.5 kilograms (about 5 pounds) of paper, which I then shred by hand or with scissors. The cat really enjoys playing in the bag of bedding. I have added ventilation holes to the box using a hand operated drill and one of the next tasks will be to visit a nearby community that has a thriving project already going. I may be able to harvest and buy some of their worms, otherwise there´s a store in Tarija that I´ll check out. I´m not sure whether worm composting will be picked up by people in our site because they tend to feed their kitchen scraps to their pigs, which is another good way to recycle them. I just want to know how to do it for myself so I can do it when we come back to the states.

With all the dust in El Puente, there´s always sweeping, mopping, or washing of clothes do be done. I´m really enjoying the simplicity of those actions, as well as the cooking. Since the supply of fresh produce is a little irregular in our site, we have to improvise meals based on what´s available, which can be both fun and challenging. We´ve got a decent recipe book put together by PC volunteers, titled ¨Donde no hay cocinera.¨ (title translates to ¨where there is no chef¨ more or less) I also got an excellent Thai peanut sauce recipe from an outgoing volunteer that was really easy and super tasty, so I figured I´d share it here: Thai Peanut Sauce (serves 2 hungry people)2 Tbsp oil3 scallions, finely chopped1 clove garlic, mashed1 Tbsp freshly grated ginger½ C peanut butter¼ C white vinegar¼ C soy sauce1 C water3 T brown sugar¼ tsp hot pepper flakesSaute the scallions, garlic, and ginger in oil for 1 minute. Then add the remaining ingredients, heat and stir until it reaches the desired consistency. Yummy with stir-fried chicken and steamed vegetables (we recommend broccoli and carrots) over steamed rice.________________________________________________________________ And lastly, some important family pictures, for you animal lovers out there...

__________________________ My furry boys___↑____________________↑ Salta helping out with the chores____Yes, that is the place in the roof where we once saw the centipede.

Wow, so hard to believe we are in October now. We've been eight months in country, and even though we are still pretty new, time is flying by. It seems the past two or three months have been particularly busy with visitors, traveling, and finally some work. The seasons are changing and we can feel the beginning of our first hot/rainy south American summer. We've also had more adventures with our house in site and the electricity of our little town. Never a dull day in Bolivia.

It was great to see other volunteers from our group at our mini-reunion in Cochabamba. We had time to share stories and discuss any challenges we were having in our sites. We also met with others working on similar projects and exchanged ideas. There was also a little time to explore Cochabamba again and have some fun. During the weekend, a group of twelve of us climbed 17,000 Mt. Tunari. The weather was much better compared to our last trip up the mountain in March and the views from the top were much more spectacular than before. It was so clear that we could see the huge Cordillera Real near the city of La Paz over 300 miles away. We had views of 21,000+ foot Mt. Illimani and 19,900 foot Huayna Potosi, two classic Bolivian peaks that are relatively non-technical and accessible to amateur mountaineers. A few volunteers have climbed them in the past, and of course there is talk of making an attempt before our time in Bolivia is finished. We´ll see what happens...

(John, Phil, and I around 13,000 ft)

(L- View from summit of Cochabamba Valley)(R - View from summit toward La Paz)

(Summit of Mt Tunari)

Anyway, we had a great time in Cochabamba with everyone and are already looking forward to more stories and fun during our 1-year medical checkups in March when the whole group will be together again.

A few weeks after we returned from Cochabamba Erica left for an almost two-week wedding filled trip back to the USA. and I stayed in Bolivia and traveled a bit. Erica and I flew to La Paz the day before her flight and had one night together in the city before she flew out. We went out to the Zona Sur, an upper class neighborhood in the south of La Paz and walked around and had Mexican Food for dinner. Unfortunately the food was nothing special but we had a nice night and were marveled by the amazing city and scenery of La Paz. Erica flew out the next morning and I met my friend John who happened to be returning from a similar USA wedding trip that same morning. In fact, John was landing in La Paz on the same airplane that Erica would be departing for Miami on. So Erica left for her US trip and John and I set out to do some hiking around La Paz.

We had read about two popular day hikes, the Valle del Luna and the Muelle del Diablo. We checked out the Valle del Luna which was pretty, but turned out to be a fenced in area with paths and picnic tables. It was not exactly what we were looking for so we headed for the Muelle del Diablo (the Devil's Molar). We'd read that is was a rock formation about 45 minutes from the city on the rim of the valley with views back to the city and also out into the Altiplano. We were much happier with our choice as we had the place to ourselves and did enjoy great views of the Cordillera Real and of Mt. Illimani.

(L - Muelle del Diablo, R - Mt. Illimani in distance)

(Views back into La Paz city valley)

(Muelle del Diablo from below)

We went back to La Paz for dinner and then John left the next morning to head back to his site near Oruro, about 4 hours away. I stayed in La Paz one more day to do some shopping then I left the next morning for Sorata, a town in near Lake Titicaca in the beginning of the Yungas region of Bolivia. The Yungas is the area where the Andes drop off and become the Amazon basin. The altitude drops dramatically and there are high green valleys situated between snow capped peaks. As you continue down in elevation, it becomes more jungle like and soon becomes full Amazonia. Sorata is a small town at just under 7,000 feet (compared to over 11,000 for La Paz, and over 12,000 on the Altiplano) that has gained popularity as a starting point for hiking and trekking into the Andes or down into the jungle. Providing a backdrop to the town are Mt Illampu (20,892 ft) and Mt Ancohuma (21,068 ft).

(Views from Sorata)

I had bought a nice map and planned a long hike up to a glacial lake at 10,000 ft. Somewhere I took a wrong turn and found myself exploring a riverbed instead of heading up the mountain. I found some small waterfalls and ate lunch by the water. It turned out to be a much shorter hike but still enjoyable.

I spent one more night in Sorata and left the next morning for La Paz. The weather was overcast and I was sorry I hadn't taken a picture of the plaza earlier, so this is what I got. I rode a micro, basically a minivan back to La Paz. As usually I was the only non Bolivian in the vehicle, but what was different compared to Tarija was that the people were speaking Quechua rather than Spanish. It was cool to finally hear the old Incan language spoken by a group of traditional Bolivians. Again, I wanted to take a picture from my seat in the back but I had to be sly. I hope the picture captures some of the feel of the ride.

I was amazed at the city of La Paz and definitely want to go back. I'd never seen such a mix of cultures and flavors in a city so large and modern. We saw high rise buildings next to colonial churches, we could buy cell phones and DVD players in the markets or llama fetuses and dried armadillos right next door, we could eat expensive sushi or a huge plate of picante de pollo for around $1.00. In addition to the cultural buzz is the incredible scenery of huge snow capped peaks in virtually every direction. I think La Paz is one of the most unique cities I've ever visited.

(L - National Cathedral, R - National government building)

(Cathedral and Peace monument)

(L - Muelle del Diablo from city, R- Mt. Illimani)

(Market street in La Paz)

So after my travels I flew back to Tarija and bussed back to El Puente and our home. Erica still had a week in the US so I spent time in our town with the cat trying to get work going again. The town was still having electricity issues and we were getting about 5 good hours of power every evening. When Erica got back we went back to work on the school gardens and a worm bin. We mixed and prepared soil following what we were shown in training. After a while we even forgot we were digging through pig, chicken, and cow poop with our bare hands. We expect to transplant the plants coming from the seed bed in the next week and harvest everything with the elementary school kids before the end of their school year in late November. I've also begun helping the high school English teacher a few hours a night with his pronunciation and grammar.

(Sitting on a heap of "natural fertilizer", poising with the onions)

(Our seed bed with 12 different species of veggies)

So we've had a good last month or so and are looking forward to Thanksgiving and a visit from my mom and our first Christmas in Bolivia. The cat is also doing well and has his special appointment with the surgeon next week, he will not be a papá.

(Salta taking a siesta)

Hasta lluego,

Marcos

The month of July blasted by with lots of activity. My parents' much anticipated visit took place during the first week of July. After at least 12 hours on planes, a delay in Miami, and a sizeable layover in La Paz at over 15,000 feet, my parents arrived in Tarija in remarkably good condition. We went out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Pizza 95.

The next day we bought food to take back to our site and wandered around town a bit. We had apple empañadas from the pastry ladies that hang out in front of a particular church. Then we went to get licuados (smoothies made with milk, fruit, and sugar) at the central market.

That night we celebrated Mark and my 2 year wedding anniversary at our favorite Bolivian restaurant, Pollo Janeth, where Mark and my dad shared an enormous Pique a lo Macho (see first blog entry for description).

There happened to be an important futbol game on and so we watched on the big screen with a lot of Argentinian soccer fans. The next two days were spent in our site, where the main focus was playing cribbage and preparing food. Here's a shot of the inside of the bus we took, which helps give some perspective on how travel is in Bolivia. It's honestly not as bad as I'd imagined. The only non-human on the bus was our cat, no chickens or goats.

Once we arrived uneventfully in our site, we walked around town, showed my parents where we work, make phone calls, and buy fried egg or milanesa sandwiches for dinner. Below is a picture of the phone place that we use to receive calls in El Puente. We can make outgoing phone calls using calling cards, but it costs about 25 cents per minute. It's basically the front room of a familiy's house, so there are often kids and dogs hanging out. From time to time they have vegetables or fruit for sale as well.

It was particularly helpful to walk up to the Christ statue that we have to get a more aerial view of the town. My mom and I baked a carrot cake, which was tricky since our oven doesn't heat up as much as it says it does, and we were using the high altitude preparation instructions. We made an awesome spaghetti and garlic bread dinner, celebrated Mark's birthday a little early, and watched Spiderman (which was a gift sent with my parents from Mark's mom- Thanks Irma!). After two nights, it was time to head back to Tarija for some souvenir shopping and more fine dining. The bus trip was a little more colorful, since we had to flag down a passing bus and it wasn't clear whether there would be room for all four of us. We lucked out and even got four seats all together, in the back row. We were treated to a rather loud viewing of "Beverly Hills Ninja" dubbed into Spanish, which was ridiculous. On their last night back in Tarija, we went to a restaurant on the main plaza and had steaks and italian food, where this picture was taken.

The next morning, we received an urgent message that the departure time of their flight had been moved up by an hour. We accompanied them to the airport, where no plane had yet arrived to carry them to La Paz. After playing cribbage for a while, it was announced that the plane would be delayed for several hours. Mark and I left for a bit to get my face X-rayed, which is apparently how sinus infections are diagnosed here. It was a little freaky laying face down on the X-ray table and not having any protective lead garments, but the X-ray was kinda cool to look at afterwards.

After being X-rayed, we returned to the airport with snacks and played cards until the plane finally arrived. It was tough to see them go, and I had a strong urge to run and get on the plane with them. The thought of going home and returning to a 9-5 job was one of the things that held me back from actually getting on the plane with them.

For Mark's birthday, we went for a hike in a nearby nature reserve called the Sama. It is known for it's flamingos, llamas, and for having a portion of the Inca trail. In order to get there, we hired a taxi for the journey, which took about two and a half hours. The driver kinda knew where it was, and so stopped to ask pretty much every person we passed on the road where to go. By the time we arrived at the trailhead it was about 11am and there was already a strong wind blowing. We were at about 12,000 feet and the sun was strong, but not very warm. So we bundled up and started to walk. Almost immediately we were met by a dude on a motorcycle who claimed to work for the nature reserve. He told us we needed to have permission to be there, which we had already asked for at the NGO in Tarija that allegedly manages the reserve. He explained that there was some disagreement over who actually manages the reserve, took our names, and seemed satisfied with letting us continue. We started to walk again, and within 5 minutes a different motorcycle dude drove up and gave us the same schpiel. We told him we'd already left our names with his colleague and he left us alone. At this point, it was around 1pm, so we decided to stop for some lunch. We were close to a lake, so we walked to the shore and then realized that the birds standing near the shore were flamingos. Being used to seeing them as lawn ornaments or on postcards from Florida, it was very strange to see them at such altitude, standing in a semi-frozen lake, huddled for warmth. Unfortunately it was difficult to get close enough for a decent picture since the edge of the lake was frozen and the birds were far away. Still, we did our best impressions.

There was even one bird who appeared to be dead and frozen head first, feet up in the lake. After our lunch of salami and cheese sandwiches and fruit snacks, we set out for the visitor's center that was supposed to be about 4 km away. After walking for several hours and asking the few people we came across, we weren't able to find the visitor's center. We did walk past a llama rendering plant and a weaving workshop, however. So far, the hike had been pretty flat, and we now entered the part of the trip involving a lot of elevation change. While crossing a small valley, we attempted to schmooze with some llamas, but they wouldn´t have it.

Our goal was to find the start of a stretch of Inca trail that we'd follow up and over the mountain range and down 3,000 feet into a town called Los Pinos. At the highest point in the hike, there were small streams that were frozen over. We even saw a flamingo flying around, which was totally surreal. There was also this place where the road had been cut out and there was water spilling over the edge- frozen, of course. I had to see whether my tongue would stick to it, which was a big negativo.

As we summitted and finally found the beginning of the Inca Trail, I was getting pretty exhausted. Once we were on the trail it was pretty much switchbacks heading down the side of a mountain, and this was the first flat place we found once we decided we shouldn´t go on longer.

We spent a very windy night there, which was a testament to our tent. I was convinced several times during the night that our tent poles were broken because the top of the tent was smothering us. There were some spectacular static electricity storms that were caused by the tent material rubbing on the tent fly. Needless to say, neither of us slept very well, and we woke early to get going. The first thing Mark said to me when we woke up around dawn was, ¨let´s get off this &%$!ing mountain.¨ Still, it was a really gorgeous spot.

On our way down, there was still a bit of climbing to do

. We followed a river for a little while and a man and his two small children jammed past us with sandals on. I have no idea where they were going, since there aren't many villages up there, and they were carrying nothing with them. We, on the other hand, had our huge gringo backpacks that must have been so strange to them. After one particularly steep climb, we stopped for some jerky (thanks to my parents) and it was incredibly windy. I thought it really accentuated Mark's long hair.

Here´s a picture showing what the descent of the Inca Trail looked like. Mark had read that one of the things that the Incas used the road for was to send messengers running between their villages. As my ankles strained not to buckle on the uneven boulders, I imagined how hard that must have been. Still, better than a bunch of mud or a steep cliff.

Shortly after our backpacking trip, we flew to Cochabamba for a Project meeting with all of the other Natural Resources volunteers. After the meeting, we stayed there for the 3-month reconnect meeting with the rest of our training group. Between the two meetings, Mark hiked Tunari again with a much larger group, which I'm sure he'll blog about. We thoroughly enjoyed our time there, taking full advantage of the variety of restaurants, movie theatres, and nightlife. I bought a week's membership at a gym there (for 10 dollars) and enjoyed watching Bolivian music videos while rotating between treadmill, elliptical trainer, and stationary bike stations. The cat was loving life, since he came with us, and we only had to leave one hotel once they figured out with had him there with us. The first hotel we stayed at had a small kitchen, so we invited people over for pizza once night. I was preheating the oven, when the flame was blown out and I went to relight it. Unfortunately the gas had been running for a while, so when I lit the match, it created a huge fireball. I'm told that I screamed, and the next moment I remember was that I had run as far as I could from the kitchen and was asking our guests whether I was on fire. My eyebrows, lashes, and a decent chunk of my hair were melted, which did NOT smell nice. Also, I had been wearing my brand new Peace Corps fleece, which had melted to itself a bit on the sleeves and continues to be a bit crunchy to this day. I'm lucky that I didn't get any skin burned, and that the majority of my hair was safe. I figure I'll be a little wary around gas appliances for a while. Here I am shortly afterwards. Yes, that is a ball of burnt hair I´m holding. Be glad that you weren´t there to smell this event.

We returned from Cochabamba with lots of project ideas and a refreshed sense of work ethic. I tried to be more assertive with my work partners at the mayor's office to see what they really want me to be doing, and got connected with the principal of the primary school. We're now collaborating on a school vegetable garden, which Mark and I worked on a lot over the last couple of weeks. This is a picture of the land we're using after it was "cleaned" and tilled.

So far, we've planted a bunch of young onions, lettuce, swiss chard (which is really common here for some reason), and beets. Here are pictures of me and Mark planting the onions and Mark helping the groundskeeper irrigate the rows.

We've also prepared a seed bed, where we planted lettuce, more chard, cauliflower, spinach, and cabbage. The idea is to transplant those seedlings to the larger plots once they've grown up a little more sheltered. Here it is right after we planted the seeds on August 15.

Using sticks and our strides, we measured out and marked 12 mini-parcels of land that will be used by different groups of students at the school to grow vegetables. I've drawn up a plan to build a worm composting box for our home use, and if it works, then I plan on building one for the primary school to use as well. There is a real shortage of organic material in the soil in our site, and the main way that that is currently remedied is by the use of animal manure or chemical fertilizer. I'm hoping that composting will work and catch on to improve the sanitation of food and use of natural products. We'll see.

Well, its been kind of a slow month. We´re pretty well situated into our new site and adjusted to the water and electricity patterns. We have water during the AM hours and electricity during the PM hours. We´ve gotten into a routine of boiling and filtering about 6 liters of water every morning and slowly storing away a few liters a day. We´ve got around 20 liters put away in 2-liter bottles for when the water stops all together. We´ve heard various stories of water shortages -- anywhere from a day or two to a few weeks. So hopefully we´ll be prepared.

In our site we have a smaller Cristo like the one in Cochabamba. It is on a small hill overlooking our town and has the stations of the cross and a cemetery nearby. A few weekends ago we finally went up for the first time. You get a nice view of our town and the surrounding mountains.

We traveled a few weekends ago up to visit some friends from our training group. There are two girls, Ellen and Stephanie, in towns about an hour away from each other and three hours north of us. Compared to our hamlet of 500 people, Ellen´s town of a few thousand seemed quite large to Erica and I. We went out for hamburgers, got to check our email, and went out to a cool Bolivian bar. We also spent some time shopping for fresh fruits and vegetables that we can not find in our town -- mostly broccoli. We also got to spend some time with Christian, a fellow volunteer in a town just an hour from Erica and I. Christian is just about to complete his two years of service and was able to give up tips and advice for the area where we are all now living. We hope to visit him one more time before he finishes his service and sets out to travel a bit in late June.

(L -- Erica and Christian) (R -- Scenery near Villa Abecia) Other highlights of the month have been our developing cooking skills. Erica has had more practice at carving chickens. We now know to ask for the half of the pollo sin cabeza. We also have gotten in the habit of boiling any unused parts, organs, and bones and then feeding them to the neighborhood dogs the next morning. I´ve had more practice with refried beans and homemade spaghetti sauce. We continue to love our stove and realize it was dinero well spent.

We also bought a nice mattress and blankets two weeks ago. For the previous five weeks we´d been sleeping on a wool mattress and using our sleeping bags as it has gotten colder. The wool mattress is the standard Bolivian style -- about 3 inches thick and very hard and lumpy. I woke up every morning with a sore back. We spent a full month´s salary for one of us, about $150 to buy a US style mattress and boxspring. It was considered quite lujo (luxurious), and we got some odd looks as we loaded it onto the top of a taxi.

Transporting them out to our site also proved to be an adventure. We didn´t think it wise to take both pieces at once so we opted to leave the boxspring at the PC office in Tarija and have our supervisor bring it out in a truck when he visits at the end of June. The mattress we took to the bus station with us as we were preparing to head back to our site. It is also standard Bolivian practice to ship or bring large items -- desks, chairs, stoves, etc. -- along with you on a bus trip. But we had a problem with the mattress. The cargo/luggage doors on the underside of the bus were not large enough to fit the mattress through. We had already bought our tickets for the 3 or 4 hour ride and had about 30 minutes before it was supposed to leave. We quickly had to make a decision; stay another night and try to find a larger bus, or send the mattress "encomienda" on another bus line. Basically send it as true cargo and hope it would be delivered to our site. We opted for the latter option. As Erica loaded our regular bags onto the bus I ran across the street to a shipping company and asked if they could fit the mattress. Of course they said yes, but they did not have an office in our small town. In order to receive the shipment we would have to be waiting on the side of the road the following evening as the bus passed by. If we missed it, our mattress would continue on to La Paz, another 22 hours north of us. I signed a small slip of paper, handed over 40 Bolivianos, wrote "Barajas" on the plastic covering the mattress, and said a small prayer that we would in fact see our lujo mattress again. We got on the bus and rode out to our site, half expecting never to see it again.

To our surprise, and to the credit of the Bolivian bus system, our mattress arrived as advertised the following evening around 8:00pm. I was down buying us some sandwiches and Erica waited by the side of the main road for the correct bus to pass by. It stopped at our town and a guy hopped out and called, "Colchon para Barajas." Erica let the guy know she was Barajas and out came the mattress from a larger cargo door at the back of the bus. We´ve slept like babies every night since.

Aside from the mattress we also got a wonderful package from the US from our good friend Evan. He asked us a little while ago what we would like. We said movies and books. Evan sent us 11 DVDs and 10 books. We´ve watched the entire 6 episodes of Star Wars and the trilogy of Indiana Jones. I´ve also read 4 of the books so far. Thanks Evan! We also had our first experience riding in the back of a camión, or truck. Believe it or not, riding in a camión is an approved Peace Corps transportation method. They just urge us not to do it at night. We do have the option of large buses to bring us into Tarija, but they only come early in the morning between 6-8 AM and sometimes in the afternoon around 1pm. On this particular day we had lost electricity to our building the evening before and our landlady was out of town. A neighbor found the short in the main power box and a few of us tried to fix it, but we were not successful. So around 2 PM after waiting by the road for almost two hours, we hailed down a truck hauling garlic, squashes, and onions. We climbed up a ladder and made ourselves as comfortable as we could amongst the bags of garlic. There was a Bolivian family already settled in complete with blankets and bags who looked at us kind of funny. I doubt they see many gringos traveling this way. We were surprisingly comfortable and not too cold. The ride was nice as we were able to have great 360º views of the valley and mountains. The driver got out twice to check his tires and all seemed to be going well. When we got to the next town from us, and about the halfway point for Tarija, the driver checked the tires again... and this time he did have a flat. By then it was almost 5pm and was starting to get cold. The town we were at was higher up in the mountains, just over 11,000 ft. Our driver set out to find someone to repair the tire and told us just to wait. The Bolivian family did not seem worried so neither were we. Fortunately, there in another PC volunteer, Bill, in the town. We tracked Bill down and he came out and waited with us for the tire to be fixed. And waited. And waited. And waited. Two hours later I went to look for our driver and found him down the road with the truck just about ready to go. Another 20 minutes or so and we finally set out again. By then the sun had set and we still had to get over the summit. We climbed back up the ladder and settled in. We were not quite as prepared for the cold so we used whatever we could find in the back of the truck to keep warm. We ended up laying deflated intertubes over us to stop some of the wind. The night ride was cold, but the stars were beautiful. We could clearly see the Milky Way and spotted several shooting stars. Around 9PM we finally arrived in Tarija. What was usually a 3 hour bus ride had become a 7 hour camión adventure. I think we'll take the bus next time.

(L -- waiting for the tire to be fixed)(R -- Tire fixed, heading out again)

Finally, we adopted a kitten a few weekends ago. She is a grey tabby that we named Salta. The Spanish verb "saltar" means to jump, and this cat loves to leap and climb. I adopted a cat in Mexico, Maya, who turned out to be slightly crazy. She was entertaining, but not too social. We lucked out with Salta. She is very playful and affectionate. She has also proved to be social so far and very curious. The last week was great as we got to know her and she became more comfortable with us. She definitely has helped this feel more like home. I´m sure we´ll have more stories and pictures of her as the time rolls on.

(L -- Salta climbing our door) (R -- Salta getting to know Bobby)

Oh yeah, and work... well right now we´re officially working eight hours a week. We teach two two-hour computer classes at the high school on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. We have ten students in each class from the school. We´ve had four weeks so far and are having fun getting to know the kids and learning their skills and weaknesses. We´ve also had time to reflect on the extreme differences from our last teaching gigs in Sacramento -- eight hours a day, three classes of 35 students each, five days a week, grading papers on the weekends. Wow! Erica also spends a few mornings at the Alcaldia (the mayor´s office) and I have been trying to spend time with the Direccion Distral (School district offices). All that time is simply spent chatting and getting to know the workings of the organizations and the people. We´ve had requests to teach English, and the school wants Erica to teach some art classes and me to start up the school band. I imagine soon we´ll start on those projects. But since our focus is supposed to be environmental work, we´re trying to take things slow.

We´re looking forward to July. Erica´s parents are visiting the first week of the month and my b-day is in the middle of the month. We´re planning on going backpacking in a nearby national park. Our guidebooks say there is a beautiful 2 or 3 day Inca trail starting at just over 10,000 feet and dropping into a lush valley. We´re trying to find a map and some more info. Then in late July our whole training group has a week of meetings back up in Cochabamba. Our three month"reconnect" they call it. It will be great to see everyone again and hear what people have been up to.

So we´ve enjoyed our relatively slow month and are looking forward to July. Stay tuned for pictures from the parents´visit and our camping trip!

Until then...

About one month after swearing in as volunteers, life is pretty darn good in our site. We have travelled from our site to Tarija and back several times now. The bus ride seems shorter each time, and sometimes actually is. On our second trip to site, we got to load a mattress, two chairs, and a kitchen stove under the bus along with several other bags. It´s actually standard practice here, but we were still a little self-conscious about the amount of space we were taking up. Those three household items have greatly increased our quality of life, along with the recent purchase of small speakers to play music and hear movies played on my computer. We also splurged on a blender/juicer machine just like the liquado (smoothie) ladies in the central market have. After seeing some other rooms in town, we are grateful to have the amount of space that we do. Officially, we´re just renting one big room with a bar at one end left over from its days as a Karaoke bar. But our land lady has been kind enough to let us use an adjacent, open area for our kitchen. Not only is our land lady pretty cool, but she also has a pretty rad dog, Oso, who likes to hang out with us and is very tranquilo.

Mark helping the bus driver unload our stuff upon arrival in site.

View of our room from the bar.

We love to cook, but it´s certainly a new experience not having a refrigerator. Some things rot and/or liquefy incredibly fast, such as broccoli kept in a black plastic bag. Lesson learned. I´ve been really enjoying the act of peeling and cutting up vegetables and fruit... it´s rather like meditating. We´ve started a composting bucket which fills remarkably quickly. My intention is to eventually have a worm composting bin, but for now we´ll give the food waste to our land lady so she can feed it to her sheep. I´m relatively comfortable cutting off the parts of potatoes that have been housing little white grubs, and I even found a couple of potatoes that made me laugh.

Plant products are not the only type of food that have gone under the knife in our kitchen. Our first experiment with the local fresh chicken, technically half a chicken, went very well. We unknowingly bought the half of a chicken that included it´s neck and head still intact. It was relatively easy to recognize the parts that we would normally eat in the states such as the breast and thigh, and we did our best to use as much as we could. But we were still left with a decent amount of bird that we didn´t know what to do with. Luckily, trash day came soon and we gave it to the basurero. The Szechwan Chicken that we made was the best meal we´ve had so far in Bolivia, thanks to a Peace Corps cookbook we bought called ¨Donde No Hay Cocinera.¨

Mark completing the last step of the tasty refried beans.

One night were were enjoying our homecooked meal of refried beans, rice, and tortillas when we heard a horrible noise on our roof. We ran into the common area between our room and our neighbor´s and found that two cats were fighting INSIDE the roof, between the corrugated metal outer roof, and the plaster and wood false ceiling. It was one of the most horrible things I´ve witnessed so far in Bolivia (besides seeing the old man in Cochabamba who had stepped in front of a bus) and there wasn´t anything we could do about it. Eventually, the aggressor cat calmed down and they left the building. As we went back into our room, Mark noticed a large bug hanging out near a hole in the wall/ceiling in our kitchen space. We stared at it for a while, I with goosebumps and making disgusted noises, took a couple photos, and watched it crawl back into the wall. After consulting with a coworker at the mayor´s office, I confirmed that it was a centipede, that if it bites us that would be ¨malo¨, and that I will kill it the next time I see it. Now, every time we pass through the kitchen into the common area, I have to look up and make sure it´s not dangling down ready to attack. Did I mention it was about 6 inches long? Sorry I didn´t include my hand in the picture for scale.

We officially started work this week with a computer class that we´re going to teach at the high school for the next seven months. Right now we have four 2-hour classes of 10 students, which is way easy compared to our previous school schedule. So at least we´ve got something to do every Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon from 2-6pm. It´s really amazing to see some of our students struggle with moving the mouse and understanding the concept of click-and-drag, since those are things we´ve been aware of since 4th grade or so. The computers are new-ish and in good shape, and the students are really well-behaved and excited to learn. Our first lesson included names of the parts of a computer, how to open a new Word document; change the font style, size, and color; save the file; and create a folder to save it in. For the last 20 minutes of class or so, we made them type up a synopsis of Harry Potter and the sorcerer´s stone (in Spanish, of course) off of the blackboard.

Well its been a little while again... but I think it may be like this from now on. We´ve finished training and have officially been Peace Corps Volunteers for just over a week now. Erica and I are in Tarija city doing some shopping for our new place in our permanent site. We need everything... stove, bed, mattress, chairs, dresser, pots & pans, the whole works. Again we realize the convenience of the US. Since we have a 3-4 hour bus ride out to our site it makes everything more complicated, and the fact that we stay in a hotel when we´re in the city. We´re trying to buy things in small lots so that we don´t have to transport too much at once, and so that we don´t give the impression of super wealthy foreigners moving into a tiny town. We figure it will take a month or two to fully get our place set up.

Anyway, the end of training was good and our swearing in ceremony was fun. We had a day off just before our last week of training and a few of us took advantage of the time and went camping. Actually, we had been eyeing a great mountain all of training and been saying,"One day we´ll climb it..." We knew that after training we´d all be split up and may not have another good chance, so our one day had arrived.

Mount Tunari is the name. We had a great view from our communities all during training and it beckoned to some of us. Some days it would be covered in snow, some days obscured by clouds, some nights the moon hung just above it, it was beautiful. We learned that it was the highest mountain in central Bolivia, and is prominently featured on the label of the local beer, Taquina. A few weeks into training a group of 5 or 6 tried to go up and summit, but they had bad weather and got a late start and ended up on a different mountain. I tried to buy a map at the Military Geographic Institute, but they told me they had sent the map to La Paz. I wasn´t quite sure what that meant, but we decided to try anyway.

(view of Tunari from road outside our house in community)

So three of us, John from Michigan, and Mike from Colorado persuaded our teachers to let us out of class early on a Thursday and we took a Micro to the town of Quillacollo, about 20 minutes out of Cochabamba. There, we looked for a taxi that would drive us as high as the road would go. Our plan was to camp that night, then get up at dawn on Friday and make a push for the summit. We had read that there was a town at about 4200 meters (13,776 ft), and that there was a trail leading 5 or 6 hours to the summit. For perspective, Cochabamba is about 3000 meters (9,840 ft.) It took a bit of haggling, but we finally found a taxi willing to drive us up the mountain. We rode for about 1 1/2 hours, though a few small towns, over a few small streams, and finally reached the highest point on the road. Unfortunately, there really was no town. It was already dark so we hiked up just a little more and made camp. John checked his GPS and we were just over 14,000 ft, already the highest any of us had ever been. Both John and Mike had climbed 12,000 foot peaks in Colorado, and the highest I´d ever been was just under 10,000 ft in Desolation Wilderness near Lake Tahoe. That was years ago with another group of great friends, and we also have some incredible pictures, one photo in particular I´m sure we will never forget.

So we had some food and tried to sleep. Mike and I shared my tent and John slept in his military surplus Bivy sack. It was a rough night. Sleeping at that altitude was difficult because our pulses were racing. Although we were tired and laying down, our hearts were beating as if we´d just run a mile. To make things worse, about 3AM we were hit with freezing rain. Mike and I were pretty OK in the tent, but we were worried about John. It stormed for about 2 hours before clearing up just before dawn. Mike and I managed about 5 hours of sleep, John closer to 2 hours. When we woke up there was ice covering the outside of the tent and our food had frozen. We packed up, ate a little, and headed out from camp a little after 6AM. We all had slight headaches and our hearts were still racing, but the sky was relatively clear.

(morning at 14,000 ft, Mike on L, John on R)

We followed a dirt road for a few hours and passed one small community of about 5 brick houses. We talked to some kids, asked them for directions and took pictures of their llamas. Already the views were incredible and we felt like we were doing something special. Oh, I should mention that the reason we had the day off was that it was Semana Santa, or Good Friday. Bolivians have a custom of going into the mountains on this day and we were told there may be others making the trek up Tunari.

We stopped to eat some more and filter water around 9:30 at a small reservoir. We could see llamas in the distance and still had views of the little community we had passed about an hour prior. The kids told us we wouldn´t be able to see the true peak until we were past the reservoir. Without a map, we were pretty much going on instinct and feeling, but luck was on our side as there were still only passing clouds. John check the GPS at the reservoir and we were over 15,000 feet.

(John filtering water and reservoir at 15,000+ ft)

We left the reservoir and really began feeling the elevation. I was carrying my large pack with the tent and decided to leave it at this point and continue on with only my Camelbak and extra clothes. John and Mike also dropped weight from their packs and we continued up, all feeling much better. Soon the road was no more, but we had our first views of the true summit. We filtered more water from a stream at around 16,000 feet and scouted a route up a ridge and to the summit.

(ridge and summit)

(Mike and John coming up the ridge)

About 11:00 we began the ridge and the final push. It was quite hard, our heads hurt and it was steep, but we were so close. And still the weather was cooperating. It took a little over an hour, but we finally made it up the ridge and gained a summit. After a few minutes we realized we were not on the true summit, and now we could see a small group of people below us. We went down a little and around, then back up and finally reached the true summit. It was awesome. We were exhausted, and honestly not 100% sure we were on the true Tunari. After about 30 minutes three Bolivians reached the summit also. One was a mountain guide who confirmed we had reached Cerro Tunari. The highest mountain in central Bolivia, 5200 meters, 17,056 feet. Amazing. We shared cheese, crackers, salami, and the celebratory cervezas we had carried along. The clouds cleared for a little while and we had views of the Cochabamba valley below and the entire Tunari mountain range. It was beautiful.

(Cerrro Tunari, 5200 meters) (Bolivian mountain guide, in low-tops and sweat pants) (John and I on summit, Cochabamba in background)

Knowing we had a long trek back we left the summit a little after 1pm. The walk down was also hard, we were tired and now our heads and legs really felt the effects of elevation. We went as fast as we could, but the Bolivians passed us after about an hour even though they stayed on the summit longer. After coming down about 2000 feet we saw the llamas again and sat and watched them and ate a little more.

(road with ridge and summit in background)

About 5pm we reached the community and to our surprise there was a small bus parked there. We had seen a large group of people on another mountain earlier in the day and learned that they were a group of Dutch missionaries who were touring South America. They had rented a bus and come up to the mountains also. We really had no way to get back to the city, our plan was to hail a truck, so we waited for the Dutch group to come down and we asked them for rides. Thankfully, they obliged and only asked for 10 Bolivianos each (about $1.25). The ride home was interesting. The Dutch group was mostly kids, from 14-18 years old. They had only been in Bolivia for two days, coming straight from Europe. They also were not so well prepared for hiking at elevation. While we had pretty serious gear -- hiking boots, fleeces, rain pants, gloves, hydration packs, etc -- most of them hiked in Converse and jeans, and carried small water bottles. Most of them were pretty sick during the ride home, some were throwing up out the window and one guy had fainted during the hike. We were grateful for our US gear.

(waiting for the bus)

We got back to our communities in Cochabamba around 7pm that night. I ate a hearty dinner and tried to go to sleep. To my surprise my heartbeat was still racing and I had a hard time falling asleep. By the next morning my pulse was pretty much back to normal, but still a little fast.

So the three of us had an amazing time, shared some good stories and some good laughs, and made a memory that will last a lifetime. We also all climbed much higher than we´d ever been and were all surprised that we passed the 17,000 foot barrier.

The next day we had our family ceremony and a week later our swearing-in ceremony. We´ve now all gone our separate ways to our permanent sites in Bolivia. John is in the altiplano, near Oruro, about a 10 hour bus ride from Tarija, and Mike is in the chaco, near Santa Cruz, about an 18 hour bus ride from Tarija. We´ll all be back in Cochabamba in July for a 3-month "catch up" meeting. There is already talk of going to the mountains again. We´ll see.

So besides our mountain adventure, we also had our swearing-in ceremony. It was the following Friday at a nice hotel in the city. Everyone got dressed up, I shaved my beard, and we became official Peace Corps Volunteers. The US Ambassador was there as well as representatives from the Embassy and USAID. About 6 weeks prior, the group of 29 was asked to pick a "valedictorian." Someone who they thought could represent the group and deliver a speech at our ceremony. I was honored to be selected by the group to be our representative and give the speech. I was a little nervous, but the speech went great. Erica helped me with ideas and work out the kinks and it had a good balance of humor and seriousness.

(Erica and I with our Training Director, Bill Green; Bill and US Ambassador and I)

(Erica with our Project Director, US Ambassador, and PC Country Director; us after swear-in)

After the ceremony we were treated to dinner at a Brazilian-style steak restaurant. Basically it was all the meat one could ever desire, salad and potatoes. There was even some meat that you may never desire, such as shish-kebabs of chicken hearts. To both of our surprise, the chicken hearts were quite tasty. After the dinner we had a small fiesta with current volunteers to celebrate our new non-trainee status. It was supposed to be a dress up theme party, but our group kind of revolted. We didn´t have time or desire to find costumes so most of us went to the used ropa section of the market during a two hour break and threw together outfits. I was being creative with my beard and left some pretty impressive lamb chops and a large goatee. I´ve since lost the lamb chops in case any of you were worried. Erica went with the standard toga complete with a crown of ivy, although she learned through the night that many Bolivians did not really know what a toga was. She educated them on Roman history and US college traditions that night. A good time was had by all.

So now we´re official. We´ve had just over a week of Volunteer status. We´re setting up our house and beginning to discover what our work will be. I will spend some time in the school this week and Erica will go into the Mayor´s office. We have three months to define and write up a work plan so there is no rush. The most important things now are to integrate into our site and begin to understand what the community needs and wants.

We do not have internet access in our site and there is only one public phone. We plan on coming into Tarija about every three weeks or so and checking email and updating the blog. Thanks to all who´ve been reading and again for your support in this adventure.

(last day of training)

Hasta lluego,Marcos

I´m going to do my best to get across what´s gone on since my last blog. I apologize for getting so far behind- I´ve been procrastinating a new entry. The last few months have really affected me for the better, and I can tell that this experience is already changing me. I´m not sure how well I´ll be able to put that into words, so bear with me. I am extremely grateful to be here with Mark, he continues to amaze me with his compassion and sense of adventure and he´s also a great partner in crime. At the same time, I often feel lonely when I think of family and friends back home. The best way for me to get started is to report some of the things that have happened since late February.

Tech Week (March 9-18)

I was a little worried at the start about being away from Mark for 10 days after living in one room with him for 7 weeks. Overall, it was an experience that allowed me to practice taking care of myself. I think I´ve relied on external things or people to make sure that I feel safe, happy, and comfortable, and I´m now gaining experience and confidence in doing this for myself. I´m also learning to accept the fact that it´s okay to feel threatened, sad, and uncomfortable sometimes, and that it is during these times that I am growing and changing. The point of Tech Week was to visit current volunteers in their sites and to get an idea of the type of projects that are being done and what it´s like in various sites. On day 1, we encountered our first bloqueo, essentially a road block used for political purposes. Therefore we had to backtrack about 2 hours to Cochabamba to take the other road to Aiquile, our first destination. We traveled through the morning, having to skip two appointments due to running late, and in the last hour of driving I started to feel like I had a fever and my stomach was rumbling. I had to have the land cruiser pull over each 15 minutes for me to use someone´s corn field or duck behind a cactus. Finally we arrived in Aiquile. Everyone else in the group went to a presentation about an irrigation project and I promptly ran to the restroom almost in time to use the toilet and the trash can at the same time... if you know what I mean. I slept feverishly from then until the evening of the next day and then it was all over. I felt great for the remainder of the trip, and I´ll never know exactly what bicho (bug) was responsible for my gastrointestinal adventure. Ironically, Mark was vomiting on his trip on the same day. Is there such as thing as empathy vomiting? I take it as evidence that Mark truly is my soul mate.

Our next stop was in a much larger town called Valle Grande. Here, we had our first charlas (presentations) with a bunch of boys from the local orphanage. My group had created a relay race to help the boys think about sorting trash into recyclables, organic waste, and inorganic waste or non-recyclables. Then we played a game using a frisbee to demonstrate how plants and animals are connected through food webs. I´m not sure how many of the boys achieved our learning objectives about the environment, but they certainly laughed and smiled. We ate dinner at the orphanage which was homemade mac and cheese, black beans, and avocado salad. Having skipped all meals over the last two days, I was a little concerned whether my stomach would tolerate the huge plate of food I had been offered. But there was no way I was going to offend the orphanage by not finishing my plate. In the end it worked out just fine. The volunteer who works at the orphanage has developed a recycling project where she pays the boys with stickers for every bag of recyclable paper that they bring her. Her cat was not amused that she was dog sitting for another volunteer at the time.

In Valle Grande we also met with a women´s group that makes and sells marmelade and liquors using locally grown fruits. We got to taste each type and my favorite was a peach jam. My least favorite was the liquor made from prunes.

From Valle Grande we visited a town called Moro Moro, to which the road was muddy and slippery. We gave our first official charlas to a group of abour 40 community members. During my charla on compost piles, I was really nervous about speaking in spanish in front of such a large group. I relied on my partner´s higher level of spanish and let her talk as much as possible, while I frantically came up with things to say and edited them in my head. One of the times I got up the courage to speak, I tripped over my tongue a little when I was warning the group that they should keep animals away from their compost piles. I knew I had misspoken at the time, but not that I had used the word "allemanes" instead of "animales." After the fact, another volunteer informed me that I had in fact warned the group to keep germans away from their compost. Overall, the experience of being a minority in a Spanish speaking country has been a humbling one. It´s a little uncomfortable to not fully understand what is being said to you and then to have complicated thoughts and only simple verb tenses and limited vocabulary to express them. I have, however, greatly improved my Spanish skills over the last 11 weeks. According to the Peace Corps language interviews that I had to do 3 times during training, I began at an intermediate-low level and proceeded to advanced-low... a gain of 3 levels. Still, I´ve got a long way to go before I am anywhere near my fluency in English. On the way back from Moro Moro we stopped for a bathroom break and I snapped this photo of one of many pigs riding in a camion (truck).

From Valle Grande, we moved on to Quirusillas, where we spent the next five days with a pair of married volunteers. During this time the five women on our trip shared one room in the local restaurant/lodging place called an alojamiento. As dangerous as it may sound to concentrate estrogen in this way, it worked out alright. I took advantage of the alojamiento´s shower each morning since it was included in our daily fee (in contrast to my now normal shower every third day. Back in Cochabamba in our host family´s house, we had to pay 2 bolivianos per shower and it was also on the third floor and was less convenient). I also met a new flying bug, called the mariwi, which is very stealth when it bites you and leaves behind a tiny red spot that swells up the next day. Each day I applied three different types of insect repellent and it helped a little. On our first day in Quirusillas, the volunteers there brought us up to a lake on the mountain above the town. We were going to drive there at first, but once we got on the muddy road it became quite slippery and we were forced to stop and walk when we encountered a series of derrumbes (landslides). At the lake, we collected some native trees to replant at the local plant nursery, and learned about the medicinal properties of some of the local flora. On our way up it was misting slightly and it created a wonderful vista over the valley.

The next day we harvested some hardy grasses to use to plant live erosion barriers in a nearby mountain area called Rodeo. After we installed the live barriers, we were invited to lunch at the landowner´s house and he killed some of his ducks to make soup for us. I couldn´t really handle the duck meat, partially because the piece in my soup still had evidence of the plucked feathers on it and partially because all of its relatives were waddling around watching us eat it. I still tried a little bit, but it was more than enough for me. We also had an interesting beverage called Mochochinchi, which is made from dried peaches that are soaked or boiled in water. It was similar to Snapple Peach Iced Tea, except there was a rehydrated dried peach in the bottom of each glass. Quirusillas had the best fried empanadas (and cheapest, at 50 centavos or about 6 cents each). I liked them because they were only filled with cheese, instead of a lot of unidentifiable ingredients like other empanadas or salteñas usually have. Our last night in Quirusillas the volunteers there made baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and apple crisp for us and we devoured it. We were also introduced to a traditional bolivian practice of mixing red wine with coca cola, which is not nearly as bad as it sounds.

Our last stop was in Samaipata (see above), the most touristy place I´ve seen so far in Bolivia. The town has obviously invested lots of money to make its plaza look really nice and the restaurant we went to was really tasty. We were going to visit a nearby town called Paredones, but unfortunately there were two large boulders in the road that were scheduled to be blown up with dynamite that day. So we turned northwest towards Cochabamba and about 9 hours later we were back. We had the weekend to rest and do laundry and the following Monday at the Training Center our sites were officially announced. Mark and I had already known where our site was for about a month since couples don´t really get to have input into where their sites are. It´s pretty tricky to find a place with the right combination of work projects and need for two volunteers. It was still really fun to find out where the other trainees were placed, and our project directors even dressed up as bunnies for the announcement of sites. It was actually a bit strange.

Site Visit (April 2-8)

We got our first glimpse of where we´re going to be living for the next two years. It´s a little pueblo of approximately 500 people about 4 hours by bus from the city of Tarija in the south of the country. After hearing it described as "Arizona country" by one of the project directors I was anxious to find out what the heck he meant by that, having not ever really been to Arizona. When we got there, we discovered that what he meant was that it was dry, cactus-laden, and had beatiful red rock soil. I had tried really hard to not have any expectations about our site, but after getting there I realized I had been picturing a lush river valley. There is a river, but it is said to be contaminated by mining operations upstream. There is only electricity in the town from 1pm to 1am, which will be a unique challenge I´ve never faced before. There seems to be one phone in town where we can make and receive calls, and the Alcaldia (mayor´s office) in town has internet. I will be working with the technical department of the mayor´s office (see below) and have already been offered a desk and any paper, folders, or pencils that I might need. Mark and I attended a meeting at the Alcaldia and were introduced to the entire staff of about 25 people. At the end of the meeting, the Alcalde (mayor) brought in two huge pots full of boiled "aba" beans. I´m pretty sure they are the equivalent of fava beans in the states, but I´m not sure. They are huge, light green beans with a very starchy flavor. Knowing that the offering of food is a way of showing respect here, Mark and I each grabbed a couple beans right away and learned how to peel them to get to the part that you eat. Unfortunately, a staff member then brought us each a heaping bowl of the beans and we set to work to get them down. Even the staff was complaining that there wasn´t any cheese to go with the beans. Soon enough, most of the beans had been consumed and we headed back to the room we were staying in for a siesta.

Mark and I decided to walk across the valley to the next town, which involved crossing the river.

Saying "Ciao" to Cochabamba

When we got back from our site visit, time really flew by. We had our last few Spanish classes, tried to visit our favorite restaurants, and I spent a decent amount of time visiting with the kittens at our host family´s house that had been born during tech week and had opened their eyes while we were visiting our site. The mom cat, Campinita, really reminded me of Maya, and it was amazing to see her kittens mature over the time we were there.

On Saturday, we had the Fiesta de las Familias at the training center, to honor those who had welcomed us into their homes back in January. We ate lunch and then presented various prizes and performed traditional bolivian dances for the families. We even prepared a demonstration of traditional dances from the United States in the 1980´s in order to educate the Bolivians about our culture. Below is the picture we took with Doña Casilda and her daughter, Carola.Afterwards, Mark and I went out in the city with some other volunteers and we encountered our first Bolivian drag queens. They claimed to be the only drag queens in Bolivia, which wouldn´t be too surprising. I suspected that they were Argentinian based on their height, but it might have been an illusion caused by their platform stilleto boots.

So its been a month since my last post... We´ve been busy, and out of email range for a couple of weeks traveling. Now we are back in Cochabamba for another week before leaving again to visit our permanent site. Quite a bit has happened... Carnival, more school work, and a 10 day trip around the country to practice our new skills. I´ll try to sum it all up...

Carnival

Around three weeks ago the city of Cochabamba exploded into the fiesta of Carnival. We hear that this city is actually a little more tame than Oruro, where the largest Bolivian Carnival fiesta takes place. There was music, dancing, and food all week long, leading up to the main parade on Sunday. Also, in Bolivia, there is a tradition of water balloons and espuma (more or less silly string.) The streets were packed with vendors and visitors and dancers. It began around 10 AM with military style parades, then not-so-military style new soldiers. We were told the new soldiers compete for a weekend off by inventing the most creative/wild dances and costumes. They were pretty funny and lasted a couple of hours.

After the military dudes, the more traditional part of the parade began. This part had traditional music and elaborate costumes and dances. The energy of the dancers was incredible. It rained off and on for most of the afternoon, but the dancers never missed a beat. Every hour of so the parade would take a small break and kids would enter the street and have water balloon fights and spray each other with espuma. Luckily, Erica and I stayed mostly dry and espuma free. The most amazing dances and music came toward the end as it got dark. Live bands on flatbeds, dancing couples, super intricate costumes, and so much energy. The parade lasted past 11pm. We left about 10:30 to have dinner and could hear the music still going. Next year we´d like to go to Oruro to experience the full extravaganza.

Tech Week

Actually this was an 11 day Bolivian Road Trip. The plan was to travel to other parts of the country to visit some current volunteers, get an idea of what our next two years might be like, and practice our language and technical skills. We were separated by our work groups, so Erica and I were apart for this trip. It was a little strange being apart and not having phone or email ability, I missed her quite a bit. And of course it was great to come back to Cochabamba and see her!

My group of Environmental Education (9 of us) , left Cochabamba on Wednesday 3/7. We stayed at a national park in the mountains between here and the city of Santa Cruz. The park was beautiful and we got to swim. We got to Santa Cruz on Thursday and I was not feeling good. In fact by evening I had a fever, sore throat, was nauseous, and had to visit the bathroom every hour or so. We called the med office during the night and I went to a doctor Friday morning where I left them a small sample. We left Santa Cruz, the last city we´d be in for a week and headed south toward Argentina. By noon that day I had thrown up and it was confirmed I had some sort of bacterial infection. Peace Corps medical is wonderful and we had all the necessary meds with us, so I began some strong antibiotics and was feeling much better by that evening.

We spent the next night in a small town of 500 people where we worked with a high school and filmed a short commercial about trash, recycling and clean water practices. It took the better part of the day and we aired the commercial on the one TV channel at about 10pm. The town gathered at the school to watch and all were very pleased. Even though I was still not 100%, it was a fun experience.

We left Guiterrez and headed further south to Boyuibe, a slightly larger town about 3 hours north of Argentina. We spent 4 nights in Boyuibe working two days in schools, putting on two environmental fairs, and spending one day in a tree nursery teaching the townspeople how to mix soil, plant seeds, transplant plants, and generally take care of their trees. We were also interviewed by the local radio station and aired two radio commercials that we had recorded before we left Cochabamba. The people of Boyuibe were great, the town had about 1500 people and all seemed to enjoy our work and didn´t want us to leave. The eco-fairs were a hit. We did puppet shows, showed people how to recycle paper and plastic bottles, collected used batteries, calculated the energy usage of the town, and helped paint murals with the schools. We also planted trees with the school kids on our last day with them. The only slightly challenging part of Boyuibe was the the town had no water for the last two days we were there. Apparently the main water pump had broke and there was no way to get any H2O into the town. We were hot and sweaty and no showers, flushing toilets, or hand washing made for an interesting last two days. Thankfully I no longer had my bacterial friend and everyone else in the group was in good health.

We left Boyuibe on Wednesday morning and drove 3 more hours south to Yacuiba, a small city of about 30,000 people. Yacuiba was right on the border of Argentina and we kept hearing about the delicious and super cheap steaks we would have. Yacuiba did not disappoint. We had a fabulous steak dinner Wednesday night in what was said to be one of the two best restaurants in all of Bolivia. A large, juicy steak and a hearty portion of mashed potatoes cost 35 Bolivianos (almost $4.00) It was amazing. The next day we worked with a group of professors who were interested in learning more techniques and ideas for teaching about environmental concepts in their schools. We had a nice afternoon with them and I think all gained a greater respect for Bolivian teachers. We ended our stay in Yacuiba with a much-hyped parillada with a variety of Argentine meat. Again, Yacuiba lived up to the hype. It was the best BBQ I´ve ever been a part of. We were hosted by a Bolivian family and about a dozen community leaders and had steak, chicken, potatoes, salads, beans, bread... and vino. It was a great time and a fine ending to a week of hard work.

We left Yacuiba Friday morning and drove 7 hours back to Santa Cruz. The plan was to make the 9 hour drive back to Cochabamba on Saturday, but we had all heard rumors of a landslide and the possibility of staying in Santa Cruz or even flying back to Cochabamba. We had met up with the dozen or so people in the Agriculture group in Yacuiba and now were all traveling together. It turned out the roads to Coachabamba were in pretty bad shape and PC made the decision to fly us all Saturday afternoon. What a relief it was to have only a 35 minute flight rather than a 9 hour car ride. Thank you Peace Corps!

Back in Cochabamba

So I got back into Cochabamba yesterday afternoon around 3pm. It was great to be home and back with Erica. Her group was in a slightly different part of the country and made the drive home a day earlier than planned. She will surely write and post pictures soon.

Now we have one week then we leave next weekend for the official Site Visit. Erica and I will fly down to Tarija state and bus about 3 hours to our small town that will be our home for the next two years. El Puente. It has about 500 people and Erica and I will be the first volunteers the town has had. Should be a wonderful adventure.

I´ll end with a few pictures I took before Carnival and Tech Week. Our Spanish class visited the huge Christ statue overlooking the city. Cochabamba built it in the 90´s and made it 20 meters taller than the similar statue in Rio de Janeiro. It was quite a hike to the top, but we had incredible views of the city.

And lastly, a picture of the neighbor´s birds. He also has three parrots and about 75 bonsai trees. What an experience this has been so far. I´m sure the true adventure is only about to begin.

Hasta Lluego,

Marcos

I´ve gotten a little behind on my blogging, but there are some pictures I´d like to share from the last couple of weeks. Two weekends ago, my technical group (natural resources) went on our tech day to a village near Pongo about 2 hours away from Cochabamba. It was my first time out into the campo (countryside). The townspeople had apparently fixed up the dirt road to their town in honor of our visit and we were thankful for that since the roads were pretty scary even after being fixed up. We were close to the altitude of the altiplano at about 4100 meters. We met up with about 20 townspeople and they taught us how to do several soil conservation techniques. In the picture below, you can see the group we worked with and the stone retaining wall that we built together in about 45 minutes. It was pretty incredible to see how fast something like that can be built if you have plenty of people power. I got to learn some Quechua including counting up to four: uj, iskay, kimsa, tawa. Up until that day I had been feeling a little frustrated with my technical training because we had been spending a lot of time listening to people talk about the kind of work we´ll be doing and this was one of our first chances to actually do some hands on work. It was a very nice change.

On the night of Valentine´s day, Mark and I awoke at 3:30am to the sound of our host mother yelling for help. It sounded like it was raining, but it wasn´t. I went up to the balcony and saw that the road had become a river. Above are some pictures of how the road looked later that morning. The reason our host mom was yelling was because the river was also coming in through the back gate, into their yard where they have pigs, geese, chickens, and crops. They couldn´t find the key to the padlock on the back gate, so they had to break it off using bricks and a crobar. We spent the next two hours helping the family fill bags with dirt from the yard and drag them to the back gate where our host brothers were building a wall. Mark lost one of his sandals almost immediately in the mud, although we were able to recover it the next day. All throughout this incident my mind was actively preparing for what might have come next if our wall wasn´t able to hold back the flood. `How fast can I get all of our belongings back into our bags and up to the third floor? Would the Peace Corps send a helicopter to evacuate us if it were bad enough?´ Luckily, I didn´t need to know the answer to these questions because the wall worked just fine. Below is a picture of the road a week later so you can compare it to the flood pictures.To add to the excitement for the week, our host mom went into town to do some shopping and brought back a puppy! Having him around has been a great comfort and a source of fun as well. Today, he even got a little vest that he seems to love to wear, with pockets and everything. He hasn´t been named officially yet, but I like to call him Machito. Apparently, black dogs are considered very good luck here, and are revered somewhat like guardian angels. My host sister and I definitely share a love for animals- she takes Machito up to her room each night so that he doesn´t catch a cold by sleeping outside with the other dogs. In the left picture below you can see Carola, Machito, and I preparing water balloons to attack some kids in the street- a very traditional Carnaval activity.

This week, I´ve been trying to be patient with myself and the program. It´s hard not to compare my experience to Mark´s. He understands and speaks a lot more Spanish than I do, and his technical trainers are younger and a little wilder than mine, so he´s having a lot of fun. The reality is that my work will be with adults and his will be with kids, so our trainers are well matched to their fields of expertise. I got to talk with my trainer today and I feel a lot better about giving her suggestions about how we might have more fun in our technical sessions that don´t involve hands on work. She and I actually have a lot in common and she was very supportive, so I feel better today after expressing my frustrations. Once we´re in our official site, I´m sure I´ll be able to work with kids as well as adults, and Mark and I may do some secondary projects together that integrate the goals of both of our projects. Tonight, we´re going to have dinner with some current volunteers that live near where our site will be so we´re looking forward to hearing more about how it will be.

So we´re now about to start our fourth week. Wow. Time has begun to go by faster, as most people said it would. The past two weeks were pretty busy with language, technical, and culture classes. This week is Carnival, so we have Mon and Tues off, classes start again on Wednesday 2/21.

We´ve been much more active with our tech classes -- learning skills we will be using for the next two years. Our group of Environmental Education (EE) is 9 people, with two trainers. I am very happy with my group and we are all getting along well. We believe we have the best trainers -- Armando and César -- although I´m sure the other groups would say the same about their trainers. We´ve visited a cross section of some really horrible environmental problems in Cochabamba and some places where they have begun to turn things around. Last week we visited the first watershed conservation projects in the city. They were started about 20 years ago to protect the city from flooding. We went up into the mountains to see the work and hear how they have managed the labor, costs, and various government bureaucracies. At the end of the visit we went up to the ridge, at almost 11,000 feet, and saw our first llamas. We were all excited, trainers included, to see such beautiful animals in the natural setting.

Later in the week we continued a project with a local school. I am in a group of three working with a 4th grade class. We talked with the teacher and decided to work on trash themes. We presented ourselves to the class, answered some of their questions about us, and had a short discussion about their trash practices. Trash is a major problem in Bolivia. Many smaller towns do not have regular garbage service, so families do the best they can to deal with their trash. Burning and dumping seem to be the main strategies. We had the students make drawings about how their families deal with their garbage. The students were great -- a bit hesitant at first to share their thoughts, but they warmed up quickly. Our group is going to return in two weeks to discuss their drawings and to teach them how to recognize and separate organic from non-organic garbage.

Finally, this past weekend EE spent two days together learning more techniques for schools and presentations and all day Saturday working in a nursery. We camped on Friday night and had a great time. Armando and César prepared a huge parillada (BBQ), we enjoyed some cerveza, and played guitar around the campfire. It was a great change from the city and more formal class sessions. (Cesér and I on left, Armando on right)

Saturday was spent learning techniques for planting, transplanting, grafting, and cloning different types of plants. The nursery was beautiful and was the first in Cochabamba, started by a German man before WWII. We learned from the second and third generation Bolivians/Germans who lived and worked at the nursery. They showed us how to manage small plots and also techniques for reforesting large plots of land. This was also a nice change for me from the school setting as everything was new and I felt like I was really learning.

In another week and a half we will leave for a 10 day technical training. We are going to southern Bolivia to visit some current volunteers and learn from them. On the agenda are more time with schools, an environmental fair, more nursery techniques, and maybe most exciting, we are supposed to produce a short radio and TV spot. We will be close to Argentina by the end of the trip, so Armando has promised an even better parillada. It should be great.

I´ll finish with this goofy picture. There is a university group that is concerned with how many cars, mostly taxis I think, do not stop and allow pedestrians to safely cross the streets. They stand in the intersections, dressed as farm animals, and shout at the passing cars. When a car stops in the crosswalk, they all come out, surround the car and begin dancing and singing. The driver is usually embarrassed and the donkey insinuates that the driver is also a jack-ass. Ahh, Bolivia.

Hasta lluego,

Marcos

Wow, hard to believe its been a week. In some ways it feels like we´ve been here so much longer already. In other ways, it has flown by. There have been many new things to get used to -- new food, new smells, new friends and family, new climate, new time zone, new transportation methods... the list could go on and on. But there have also been things that have seemed like home -- enjoying animals, being challenged each day, reading and writing, and of course time with Erica.

We are both very grateful to have each other through this experience. We´ve heard many times about the loneliness a volunteer often faces during their service and the long, difficult days of learning a new culture. We feel very lucky to be at the point in our lives to share this adventure.

One of the most shocking things to me was the concept of living off less than 20 Bolivianos per day (about $2.50). To my surprise, we´ve been able to do it and have money left over. This includes going to the town fiesta, buying towels and other toiletries at the Cochabamba market, having ice cream a few nights, and celebrating a fellow trainee´s birthday with a few cervezas. The concept of money and wealth is sure to be one that we all ponder during our service.

Most of the group is looking forward to the Superbowl this weekend. Go Bears! Again, hard to believe I was 9 years old when they were last in the big game. I´ve waited a very long time for this weekend. And to experience it while here in Bolivia is quite surreal. We will be watching the game at the house of another host family who has cable, maybe the only one in the village who has cable. It will be nice to experience a bit of US culture so far from home. Too bad we´ll miss all the commercials!

It has been great to finally have a free day today, our first. Training has been intense as promised. Four hours of language each morning, lunch, then tech and culture training on alternating days until about 6pm. I have really enjoyed meals with our family. Simple breakfasts of bread and bananas, then rice, potatoes, chicken or beef, and some veggies for lunch and dinner. Lunch has been in soup form every day so far -- slightly hard to get used to when it is about 80 degrees in the afternoon. We´ve had lightning and thunder at night three or four nights.

Today I learned to wash my clothes by hand. Amazing how much time it takes. A normal sized load would be cleaned in 25 mins in the US then dried in another 30 mins. It took me just over an hour to wash and the clothes will be drying all afternoon. I better remember to bring them in before the night´s thundershowers.

Hasta Luego,

Marcos