October 13, 2008There is no long story short I am sitting on my bed by an open window in Las Tablas, Dominican Republic on a rainy Monday afternoon. The heat has calmed but ever so slightly that beads of sweat no longer form on my top lip but still drench my neck and stain the back of my shirt. Steam rises from puddles. Bachata music blasts from a colmado (store) directly in front of my house and from another colmado to my right causing my head to swarm with a mixture of Latin beats and sultry lyrics. A Dominican rides by on his motto, a woman on the back with curlers secured to her head, clinging to the driver who revs the engine to announce their passing. It seems like a dream that little over a month ago I was drinking my little bottle of peach yogurt at the office in Aiquile, Bolivia chatting with my companeros, when I received a text message from the security officer. “The US ambassador has been declared non-grata status and has 72 hours to depart the country.” This was grave and shocking news. I knew right away the gravity of this decision made by the Evo Morales, the president of Bolivia and had my speculation as to why he chose to do so. The political situation in Bolivia has never been stable, especially in the past year and a half that I have been there. However the current situation at the time the text message was received was tenser than it has ever been since my arrival in May of 2007. Bolivia had been experiencing over two weeks of protests, strikes, and blockades in almost all departments of the country resulting in food and gas shortages for everyone. The “media Luna” was again pleading for autonomy in their own departments. There were protests and blockades over the control of natural gas reserves in the south leading to an explosion of one of the pipelines which will cost over a million dollars to fix. Brazil was considering sending in their troops to help regulate the situation because over a million people in Sao Paulo would be without gas and power if the striking continued. Santa Cruz was seeing more marches and protests in streets which escalated to the destruction of banks, government buildings, and violent confrontation with police. President Morales accused Phillip Goldberg, the US ambassador of meeting with opposition leaders and instigating the uprisings occurring in Santa Cruz. For this reason Mr. Goldberg was asked to leave. Following this decision Hugo Chavez, the president of Venezuela also kicked out the US ambassador of his country in support of President Morales. Whether Mr. Goldberg is responsible for instigating the uprising is in question however it is probable that he met with the opposition party. That is what ambassadors do, meet with all parties. I personally believe (even as a MAS supporter (Movimiento Al Socialismo) that President Morales needed to place blame on someone for the upheaval happening throughout the entire country. After receiving the message I was told to keep my phone on and close by in order to receive updates. The following events happened very quickly. We went from an EAP (emergency action plan) Alert phase to an EAP consolidation phase in a matter of an hour. I was asked to travel to Cochabamba that night but denied knowing how impossible it would to be to pack, uncertain of my return, and to say indefinite goodbyes to my community. I went to the after school center where I had tea and bread with the kids one last time. Giving extra long hugs to those gentle little people that touched my life and reiterated how grateful I am for my childhood. From there to my charango class where I took a few pictures of the chaos of 30 some kids strumming all at once, said a few teary eyed goodbyes and returned to my house. I had a gut feeling that I tried to ignore that this would be my last day living in Aiquile. When I arrived home I sat with Dona Maria and Constantina (Esmecas’ sister) to tell them what was happening. Immediately Dona Maria’s’ eyes filled with tears and she left the room to pray. Constantina who is deaf comes to my room and breaks down. Signing to me something then leaving for her room hysterical. She had thought we had said that her sister Esmeca had died. Esmeca has been in the campo for a long time and we had all been a little worried about her. Dona Maria finds Constantina balling in her room, putting her black mourning skirt and shirt on. What a complete mess. Hugging her I was able to reassure her that her sister was fine and not to worry. That it was I who was leaving and possibly not returning. I never did get to say goodbye to Esmeca, the heart of that household, the center of my existence in Aiquile.Early Friday morning after hugging and kissing our closest friends, we give broken promises of return, and we climb aboard a packed mini van destination Cochabamba. We spend two full days locked up in the hotel wandering aimlessly in circles in the small strip of grass bordering our rooms. What we did know was that on Sunday we had to have our things packed and that we were being transferred to the other hotel where the rest of the volunteers were. There we would have a group meeting and update on what the plan was. That never happened. Instead the Country Director informed us that a plane was waiting for us at the airport and we were being evacuated to Lima, Peru. We were told to keep this information strictly confidential because the other volunteers would be arriving the next day and if the Bolivian government found out they could deny take off for the aircraft. We arrive at the airport to find that another group from Tarija had just arrived to Cochabamba on the same C-130 military plane that we will soon depart on together. This group had been consolidated in the Chaco because the Tarija airport had been blocked off and closed. We board the plane and sit facing each other, strapping into a cargo net as our seat. The absolute worst plane ride I have ever been on. It felt as if we were in a toy airplane with a five year old boy holding onto our destiny in his hand dipping and rising while running in the yard. It took all the strength I could conjure to keep me from tossing my cookies into my bag lunch. We arrive in Lima at a military base and are greeted by the US ambassador, military officials and Peace Corps directors. They give us a briefing in a small room and we are taken on buses to a “vacation center” outside the city in a town called Chaclacallo. There we sit and wait. The next day, before the last group of volunteers arrives; we are informed that Peace Corps Bolivia has been suspended. I guess we all saw it coming. I would not believe until it was confirmed. Now having confirmation, what next???Alcohol. We didn’t sleep from anxiety depression confusion fear distress sadness. We played music smoke cigarettes danced walked ate. We drank so the emotional pain was converted to physical ache and we could pretend our situation was not real. After a few necessary and destructive days we owned up and confronted reality. We had many decisions to make and a lot of paper work to fill out. Final reports, description of service, projects to close, money to count and transfer, the list goes on and on. Those that were considering transferring had much to consider; where to go and for how long. I was very weary about signing up for another year. The thought of starting all over again was exhausting. I had put all my energy, my heart and soul in Aiquile. I was unsure if I had anything else left to give. Yet accepting the situation and after seeing the three pages of countries and projects that were put in front of me I could not pass the opportunity up. I took one look at the list and said the Dominican Republic is where I will go. It was far enough away from my beloved Bolivia; it would be completely different and a much needed fresh start. Also, the ocean brings me serenity, hope, and acceptance. Things I need while healing from the shock of being ripped and torn from my home and displaced from all my friends and family. So here I am, La Republica Dominicana. One other volunteer from Bolivia also decided to transfer here so we are both in this together. We were fortunate to arrive at the end of a training group so we are being coaxed into this new environment. This Saturday we will be moving back to a neighborhood in Santo Domingo for a few remaining days. Where am I? BATEY 7Picture in your mind what a plantation of sugar cane may have looked like in the south of the United States post civil war during the 1860’s. Picture mud thatched housing, straw roofs, and dirt floors. Stagnant water filled with trash and fecal matter lines the streets. Small black children play naked in the dirt, their pot bellies covered with dry mud, their neck and shoulders lined with sores. At dusk men mosey in from a full day cutting sugar cane, machete in hand. Small boys ride donkeys or walk next to the cattle they herd in from the fields. Women wash clothes in a basin and yell at their children when they stray too far or when they dive under the water of the irrigation canal that runs through the side of the town. This is where I live; in a Haitian-Dominican sugar cane community down a very long dirt road. Originally the Haitians would migrate to this area just for the sugar cane cutting season then return to Haiti. Now a community has formed and generations of Haitian immigrants have lived here, born as Dominican citizens. For this reason the entire community speaks Spanish and Creole. Creole is the language spoken in Haiti and if I am not mistaken it is a mixture of French and African dialects. Needless to say I will be learning this language because there are many members of the community that speak only Creole. In the Batey there is a school that goes to 5th grade. There is a clinic that attends to the community for a small fee. I hope eventually to live in the small house next to the clinic that was built for a potential volunteer. I also plan on collaborating with them on many projects. The Batey has 5 churches that are all predominately Evangelical although I do believe there is a Catholic church somewhere. There are roughly 350 houses and around 1200 people that live permanently in the Batey. During picking season Haitians come across the border and the town fills up. So no one worries I feel extremely safe here. I am living with a host family currently and will be here for at the least one more month depending on the housing situation. The family is so incredibly generous and wonderful. They have accepted me into their home as there daughter. There are many who are looking after me and making sure I am well taken care of. My parents who dropped me off today were able to see first hand how hospitable these people are. I am very fortunate. In addition, there are four other Peace Corps volunteers, all women, which are in surrounding bateys working in health, youth development, and business areas. It makes for a really nice support system. We plan on meeting up once every two weeks plan events, share dinner, and vent frustrations. 10/21/2008 Arrival day to Batey 7Words of wisdom to self:Be strong. Except the love that is being given to you. Work for the better of this community. Breathe. Have faith in yourself, in the Universe, and in those around you. Ask for help when you need it. Do not isolate yourself. This is reality. Be the revolution you are fighting. Why I needed strength:It took all my strength, which seemed not nearly enough, to get me through this morning; to put a smile on my face and not wander off to some far off place. The children were driving me crazy, following me around, not letting me be for an instant. I could feel the annoyance I did not want to feel. What was this house so different from the last? Why did the smile not come easy? Why could I not motivate myself to make conversation? I now know it is due to a small bout of culture shock, the exhaustion of moving again for the 4th time in less than a month, and the energy required to integrate into a new world. I thought for more than a moment that I was somehow immune to these emotions because of the number of times I have done this. I most certainly am not immune. These changes shock the body and mind twisting your emotions until they are arrive at a breaking point. Yet, these are emotions that come and go. They do not last and are all part of this experience.Why I stay:This afternoon we had a committee meeting with those interested in working with me. I was surprised and so relieved at the diverse representation of members of the community who want to participate in improving the quality of living of their community. There is a health committee that meets once a week that will be supporting me and working beside me throughout this year. I was instantly rejuvenated—the life shocked back into me. Early today I had to keep telling myself- you can do this—ay! But can I??? I would reply. Now, seeing the need and hearing the enthusiasm, it has brought a whole new outlook on my purpose of being here. I look forward to working to improve the health of this community so that after I am gone they can continue to do this on their own.10/22/2008The generosity that has been given to me is beyond any I have ever received. Hope and true goodness in humanity has been restored in my heart and mind. Thank you universe-god- for all I have-for the wonderful people that you have brought to my life. This is poverty as I have never known or never fully experienced. This is poverty that humbles, that does not betray. This is life, raw, pure, and unspoiled. Truth and wisdom lie within the hearts and souls of the people. 10/26/2008Please let be amoebas and not dengue was all I could plead from my many trips to the bathroom between hot and cold spells brought on by fever. At one point, on the toilet, I remember telling myself, “stay with me em, stay with me” then blacking out. Scary. Luckily this time I don’t have dengue or amoebas, just a good ole bacterial infection from consuming fecal matter either from the water or from food. My family arrives tomorrow, I can’t wait. It will be so nice and refreshing to see them and take a small trip to paradise before beginning a very challenging year in the Batey. It will be very special for them to see where I am living, to know first hand what poverty looks, feels, and smells like. 11/05/2008Obama! Yes! Obama has won! This huge step for our country has made it easier to return to the Batey after a week and a half of vacation with my family. My parents and my brother were able to meet me in Santo Domingo last week. We drove up to Puerto Plata on the northern coast where we stayed at a beautiful resort right on a palm tree lined beach. Just behind us mountains jutted out of the sea creating a “Robinson Crusoe” backdrop. (In my fathers’ words) It was breath taking. Here we relaxed, swam in the ocean, did some kayak surfing, and went fishing where I caught a dolphin fish! We also climbed a huge mountain that over looked the city on a cable car that took us almost 2500 ft. above the ocean. Then we hiked around the botanical gardens at the top. We explored an amber museum where we saw the only lizard fully preserved in amber that is over 50 million years old! It was also the specimen that was used for the Jurassic Park movie..haha. After we soaked up some sun, drank our share of cocktails, and ate enough fattening foods, we headed to Jarabacoa, a mountain town in the central highlands of the country. There we stayed at another gorgeous place right on a raging river. The hotel restaurant over looked the rapids and Neal, mom and I all got in the river and played in the rapids. From there we headed southwest to Barahona. We drove along the coast and discoverd a bed and breakfast that over looked the ocean. Paradise. the water so clear and blue, the sky melting into the ocean. a wonderful way to end a vacation. we swam in the ocean and found rocks and shells along the shore. This morning we woke up to an Obama victory. very positive energy to begin my journey alone, and say farewell to my family. We drove out to my site where we ate lunch with my host family, played with the kids, and cut and ate sugar cane. After a tearful goodbye i settled back into my room and put myself back into work mode. much to be done. where to start?

August 19, 2008I have discovered another Bolivian jewel, Sucre. It is the official capital of Bolivia and is only 4 hours south of Aiquile making it a much more convenient regional city and leisure spot. It is a cloud city, built high upon the rounded mountains of the Andes overlooking a dry river bed during the winter months and the rage of heavenly tears during the summer. I came to know Sucre when Jasmine and I had to be 'rescued' from site 2 weeks ago. We were trapped in Aiquile because of blockades on the road leading to Cochabamba and the same road opposite direction to Sucre. Teachers were protesting and blockading passages across the entire country in the name of higher wages and a fair retirement pension. As of the moment the government has called a 45 day truce to try and mend the problem. Sucre is a cultural hub for music, art, and history. I am told some of the best museums in the country are located here. Artifacts and mummies from the Incan and Pre-Incan cultures are displayed in pristine condition.My charango teacher travels to Sucre every weekend for performances and jam sessions with the country’s most talented charango players. I am hoping to catch a show this weekend if I arrive in time. I am trying to learn from the best in preparation for my own debut for the Charango festival here in Aiquile.Upon entering the city you pass a giant erect wall where the land had been pushed up and together some years ago. On the wall are dinosaur footprints leading up to the top. There are various sets of tracks from different dinosaurs that roamed these lands millions of years ago. Que increible! The plaza at the center of the city is covered with beautiful trees, palms, flowers, and statues. It is a safe place to relax, people watch, read a book, or chat with a friend. The square surrounding the plaza is full of little cafes, restaurants, and shops. The giant courthouse and government building tower over the plaza as well and busy city officials can be seen coming and going. I hope to be exploring more of Sucre and enjoying all the gems she has to offer.

**my blog has been temporarily down due to someone hacking into it and placing pictures of Indian women in bathing suits-sorry for the inconveinece- although i did lose some pictures and writings- i am officially back**July 25, 2008when light is soft and purple shadows form small rivers that slide down the sides of mountains, I bow down to the earth from which I was made. When golden rays illuminate seas of wheat fields and a warm dusty wind dries the tears from my eyes, I plant my roots and reach for the sky.as the crescent moon appears from the curvature of the horizon and her brother sun melts into the other side, my two hands form one and i surrender my forgiveness gratitude and release of my own decry.

some paintings i just did after coming back from Samaipata

In Quechua, the language of the Incas, Samaipata means 'rest in the highlands'. The town lies two and half hours south west of Santa Cruz where three seperate eco-systems join together; the Amazonian Plains, the Gran Chaco, and the Andes mountains. For this reason the area has been a geographic and geopolitical melting pot for inter-related cultures for centuries. First the Mojocoyas and Chane peoples from Gran Grigota used the area has a ritual and religious centre from 800 to 1,300 aD. Later at the end of the 1300s it was used as a pass-by lodge for Guarani warriors. Afterward it was a meeting point, trading centre, ceremonial site, and administrative centre for the Incas during the 1400s. Finally it was a fortress and a trading and storage town during the Hispanic colony era linking Asuncion, Paraguay and Lima, Peru.Rest is what I found both spiritually and physically when my friend Jamel and I spent 4 days following Christmas here. We camped at La Vispera an organic farm and retreat run by a Dutch couple 15 minutes walking distance outside of town. I indulged in banana and honey pancakes, pesto veggie wraps, and mango and lemon juices. Best food I have eaten in Bolivia so far.Our first day in Samaipata we took a taxi to the bottom of the road leading to "El Fuerte" the Incan archaeological site consisting of very impressive architecture and rupestrian art. We hiked along the ridge of one mountain leading down to a valley where we crossed a small river then continued up mountain another until we reached the park at the very top. It took maybe an hour and a half to reach El Fuerte from the start. Once we payed our entrance fee they gave us a map and we started the two hour hike/tour of the ruins. El Fuerte is divided into two sections; the religious area and the administrative area. This place of worship for the Incas was perfect. It sits atop a huge rock that rises sharply out of a valley surrounded by huge mountains in every direction. This for them was the closest they could be to their gods, to Pachamama, mother earth. When you begin the walking tour you climb higher and higher, straight up it seems before it plateaus. There you get a top view of the Roca Esculpida (Main Rock) which is formed from a monolithic sandstone composite-220m length, 60m width. The rock is entirely covered by carved works such as zoomorphic and anthropomorphic images, geometric patterns, niches, and a channeling system. It also displays amazing features related to an advanced hydraulic system shaped like a serpents back, idols worshipping which resembled sacred gods and goddesses, purification and fertility rituals, and a solar calendar. There are seats, tables, a conference circle, a priest choir-loft, troughs, tanks, conduits, and niches that held idols. The designs carved into the stone are of a puma and of numerous serpents that probably represented fertility. From there you descend slightly to the housing section. The ruins are well enough intact to image what they looked like some 500 years ago. Walking along you come to a huge building where they we known to gather for military training and for other administrative matters involving the entire community. One of the craziest sights for me was El Hueco (THE HOLE) which is found about 300m down an obsure path behind one of the main ruins. It is a large hole concealed by vegetation located on a sloping hill. They say it is almost certainly a natural hole with three different theories about how it may have been used. 1. It was a water storage cistern2. It functioned as an escape-proof prison (and later a place where they threw the dead)3. It was part of a subterranean communication system between the main ruin and its immediate surroundings. (or a way to communicate with the gods of the underground)El Hueco was partially explored but the project was abondoned when the excavators heard mysterious sounds emanating from the walls. (ESA ONDA!)No one knows the true depth of El Hueco, they say the bottom hasnt yet been reached. EL FUERTE; an amazing glimpse of the Incan culture and their way of life. I try to imagine what it must have been like to be present during one of their ceremonies on top of that rock. To be where the heavens kiss the earth, watching them carry the priests to the highest point of the temple hearing their chanting echo throughout the valley. Our second day in Samaipata I explored lush rain forest that slid down the backs of tall rounded mountains. I hiked trails to towering waterfalls and hid in the caves behind them, letting the water spill onto my outstretched hands. I slid down the rocks into a clear sandy bottomed pool and climbed up and over another small cerro to the next waterfall where I fell asleep on the beach. That afternoon our friend and tour guide Remy, a local from Samaipata, took us really high up one of the mountains to a trail head. With his machete we began climbing even higher to the cloud forest where we saw old giant ferns, many that were well over 300 years old and stood as high as palm trees. We kept an eye out for Veloceraptors, we heard they still roam these parts. We continued climbing until we reached the top of the mountain where the forest stopped and only shrubby vegetation covered the ground. When the clouds cleared we could see the mountains in every direction. The trees looked like little broccoli shoots and we were hestitant to get to close to the edge. We saw a condor soar by and we thought that quite possibly a Teradactal (sp? you know the huge prehistoric bird) would swoop by, pick us up and carry us away. What a wonderful way to end 2007.