<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:53:12.344-08:00</updated><category term='first'/><category term='first week'/><title type='text'>Maija In Bolivia</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-1091729758342684343</id><published>2009-05-18T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T15:56:16.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nine Months!</title><content type='html'>¡Buenos días!&lt;br /&gt;I have now completed 9 months in Bolivia! Which means I only have 23 days left before I return to the U.S. on the 11th of June!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the University I passed my class Geography and am now enrolled in a Creative Expression course. It is turning out to be an excellent choice of class because the teacher, who is Cuban, encourages class discussions and spends time helping me with my Spanish on breaks. The class teaches a mix of Spanish grammar, theater, philosophy, and creative thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got a chance to go to el campo (the countryside) where my family has tons of cows! They are going to sell the property because it is a lot of work to maintain, especially given that my parents already have full time careers. The cows are not, however, the same as the cows we are used to seeing in Arkansas. They are Indian cows (not European ones) and they have this giant camel-like hump on their backs. They are quite ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/ShG6jaNxcGI/AAAAAAAAAY0/90rCvlqtXq0/s1600-h/IMG_1371.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/ShG6jaNxcGI/AAAAAAAAAY0/90rCvlqtXq0/s320/IMG_1371.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337252150906024034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went, my host dad was selling are the oldest and ugliest cows, so I helped to round them up, sort them, and load them onto a cattle truck. It had rained that morning and the loaded truck got stuck in the mud every 5 feet or so and we had to shovel around the tires so it could go a little further. It took about 3 hours to finally get the truck on a more solid roadway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here has started to become cold and rainy! There are still plenty of warm days, but there are several jacket-worthy ones as well. The weather changes have given me a stuffy/runny nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also in this past month, a movie made in Bolivia (from Tarija) came out! It’s called “Historias de Vino, Singani y Alcoba.” I went to the theater to see it. It wasn’t a terribly great film, but it was definitely exciting to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard to believe that my year here is coming to an end. There are still several places in Bolivia where I want to go, but I guess it's almost impossible to go everywhere you want in a country. There are certainly sites in the U.S. I haven’t gotten to in 18 years of living there, and a few of my stops on my Rotary Bolivia tour took me to places where my host family has never been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My return flight will take me from Santa Cruz to Miami to Chicago to Fayetteville, where, after about 14 hours dealing with airplanes and airports, I will walk out of the terminal to hug my mom, dad, and sister for the first time in almost 10 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/ShG6jrMeWvI/AAAAAAAAAY8/lfhaIcibxpU/s1600-h/IMG_1849.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/ShG6jrMeWvI/AAAAAAAAAY8/lfhaIcibxpU/s320/IMG_1849.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337252155463981810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To everyone: thank you so much for all the support you have given me on this life adventure. When I first stepped on that plane back in September, I had no idea what was in store for me. I knew it would be a journey, but I couldn’t have guessed any of the details. Thankfully I was blessed to have a great experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to seeing everyone soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-1091729758342684343?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/1091729758342684343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=1091729758342684343' title='38 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/1091729758342684343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/1091729758342684343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2009/05/nine-months.html' title='Nine Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/ShG6jaNxcGI/AAAAAAAAAY0/90rCvlqtXq0/s72-c/IMG_1371.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>38</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-1385959502145803628</id><published>2009-04-20T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T17:42:02.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eight Months!</title><content type='html'>I have now completed 8 months in Bolivia! That leaves less than 2 months before I return to the U.S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the most important news to share with you all is that I watched Bolivia beat Argentina in fútbol (soccer): 6 to 1 !!! Pretty dang impressive since Argentina is one of the best teams in the world, and Bolivia doesn't even come close. Of course, the gauchos are sore losers and had to complain that it was the altitude (they played in La Paz) that caused them to lose so badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month I went to countryside with my host dad and my friend Caity. We went because my dad was looking for a rancher he wanted to offer a job on our farm. He had heard that the rancher was playing soccer, and when we finally found him, he was, sure enough, on the sidelines of a soccer field. A job working on the family farm pays 1200bs/month plus 50bs for each truck that you unload (about 1500bs or $215 for a normal month).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back from the soccer field, my host dad pointed out a makeshift market built out of scraps of old wood in the middle of the road. Of course, building in the road is totally illegal. Inside the market they make and sell the cheapest food you can find anywhere (one dollar for an entire meal complete with drink, meat, and rice). Of course, the conditions in which they make the food are totally unsanitary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5kdJiD4jI/AAAAAAAAAXg/mzJBjkI7Opw/s1600-h/IMG_1350.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5kdJiD4jI/AAAAAAAAAXg/mzJBjkI7Opw/s320/IMG_1350.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327305861163639346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: My friend Melissa and I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;One afternoon I went to volunteer at an orphanage with my friend Melissa. It took about a half hour micro (bus) ride to get there, which is quite far when you are used to everything being so close. It's out in the 5th ring of the city where the roads aren't paved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, there is nothing pretty about the scenery out there. There are lots of small dirty homes on small dirty roads filled with sand, mud, and dirt. Poverty. The orphans range in age from 4 to around 19. When we first entered we were placed with two young girls ages 6 and 10. We were told they were new arrivals and had not yet started school because they were behind. We were to help them catch up by teaching the letters of the alphabet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes into working with them, I realized that these kids were basically starting from scratch-- the only letter the 6 year old knew was "A." The 10 year old was no better. Later, I was told a little of their story: some travelers found these two girls- without food or water- underneath a mat in the middle of the jungle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The youngest little girl there looked about 4 years old. She had her hair in cute little pink ponytails all over her head. She was absolutely the most adorable. I was told that she arrived at the orphanage after her grandfather attempted to murder her.&lt;br /&gt;The girls and boys inside the orphanage have separate sleeping quarters. On the guy's side, each room has wire mesh in the windows. I was told it was put there when they began having problems with a sexually abused boy leaving his room in the night to attempt sexual acts with other boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids were incredibly affectionate and always wanted to hug me, hold my hands, and have me pick them up or tickle them. They call all the volunteers and workers "tía" and "tío" or “aunt” and “uncle.” It took me a minute to realize when they said "tía" they were actually talking to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my university I have now finished my Bolivian Culture class and entered a geography class. My Bolivian Culture class was supposed to take a trip to the Amboro National Park, a large nature reserve in the middle of Bolivia. However, it was raining the day we went out there and a small landslide caused the only road to be completely blocked off. So, instead we went to Cotoca and Mairana, two small towns outside of Santa Cruz. It was a very low-key trip; we talked with one man from Mairana and then watched as they played a quick game of soccer. Mairana is a very poor and under-educated town where almost everyone I saw was without shoes and taking pictures was forbidden for the fear that “photos steal your soul.” A friend and I had purchased several oreos for the trip, and when we hadn’t eaten them as we left Mairana, we decided to give them to the kids there. It was like feeding a pack of wild animals—after giving out one pack of oreos to one kid, the rest of the kids swarmed around and began fighting for the little that we had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SezovSeyDFI/AAAAAAAAAWg/ZVOkP8KgD70/s1600-h/IMG_0955.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 233px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SezovSeyDFI/AAAAAAAAAWg/ZVOkP8KgD70/s320/IMG_0955.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326888358384897106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Crazy swirling river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also stopped by a river that was absolutely amazing—completely full of swirling whirlpools and wild currents that it looked like dirty boiling water. A photo of the water is above, although a photo just isn’t nearly as impressive as the real thing.&lt;br /&gt;Another place I visited this month is a place I have wanted to see for a very long time—the Biocentro Guembe. This is a large resort outside of Santa Cruz complete with a butterfly garden, aviary, Orchid garden, about 20 different “natural” swimming pools, and a restaurant. I went with several friends for just one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5TwmRPSsI/AAAAAAAAAXY/4iBLfaYygfs/s1600-h/IMG_1082.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 206px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5TwmRPSsI/AAAAAAAAAXY/4iBLfaYygfs/s320/IMG_1082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327287503597554370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5TvxQVA8I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/aSGx0iFbSFo/s1600-h/IMG_1006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 204px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5TvxQVA8I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/aSGx0iFbSFo/s320/IMG_1006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327287489366655938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above left: Two macaws with me, Above right: "natural" pools at Biocentro Guembe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highlights of the trip included spotting the sloths in the aviary and watching as a Macaw inside the aviary met a wild Macaw outside the aviary and they began “kissing” through the wire mesh separating them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SezowqNUE8I/AAAAAAAAAXA/zkO3TvBGdnE/s1600-h/IMG_1087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 173px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SezowqNUE8I/AAAAAAAAAXA/zkO3TvBGdnE/s320/IMG_1087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326888381933949890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5Tvom07-I/AAAAAAAAAXI/9rl9wkShIbw/s1600-h/IMG_1066_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 175px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5Tvom07-I/AAAAAAAAAXI/9rl9wkShIbw/s320/IMG_1066_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327287487045103586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above left: Two macaws, Above right: At the top of the aviary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished my Bolivian Culture class with a record grade of 75% on my final exam! I am now enrolled in a geography class. The lack of knowledge of my Bolivian peers is sometimes astounding—one the first day of class the instructor began calling students up to point out different elements on the world map. Shock took hold when it took three students to finally locate the continent of Africa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I have yet to prove that I am much more intelligent. On the first day in the class we also had a preliminary examination, and I learned that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Although 7,000,000,000 is 7 billion in English, it is NOT 7 billón in Spanish. It is 7 mil millónes (which translates to 7 thousand million).&lt;br /&gt;-- The teacher will call this out in class and announce to the class that SOMEONE doesn't know how to label numbers correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Although I have always learned that there are 7 continents (N. America, S. America, Africa, Asia, Europe, Oceania, and Antartica), they only teach that continental model in N. America, China, and most of Europe. In S. America they teach that the Americas combined are actually one continent, called America.&lt;br /&gt;-- Bolivians will actually laugh at you when they hear you are separating North and South America. They will think it is a racist/cultural-ist thing, as though you are separating English and Spanish speakers. "We are all part of America," they will tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Although the Rocky Mountains is a legitimate and important mountain range in the United States, they have never heard of it in Bolivia.&lt;br /&gt;-- If you list it as one of the important mountains in America, the teacher will read the answer off your test to the rest of the class and say, "THIS person put that ROCKY is a mountain. I mean, what is Rocky? Are we talking about the movie here? Completely wrong."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sezov24k_uI/AAAAAAAAAWw/2wz_d35e7to/s1600-h/IMG_1310.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 206px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sezov24k_uI/AAAAAAAAAWw/2wz_d35e7to/s320/IMG_1310.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326888368156770018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Me and the girls on a University trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My geography class recently took a short day trip to the countryside. The trip involved an hour and a half walk past farmland and across a river. After the walk, we all sat down to eat a locro (which is like chicken soup).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sezovke07_I/AAAAAAAAAWo/bGuDQiANNeg/s1600-h/IMG_1338.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sezovke07_I/AAAAAAAAAWo/bGuDQiANNeg/s320/IMG_1338.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326888363216924658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Eating locro on a University trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our maid Elva left recently because her mom was in a car accident and broke a leg. She isn’t coming back, so the family is officially on the hunt for a new maid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also attaching a photo, below, from my host brother’s birthday. We went to a very fancy Asian restaurant.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SezowA_RB0I/AAAAAAAAAW4/wGfBPmCenG0/s1600-h/IMG_1346.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SezowA_RB0I/AAAAAAAAAW4/wGfBPmCenG0/s320/IMG_1346.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326888370869176130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Me, my host brother, and my host dad during my host brother's birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;That’s about all I have to report for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing you the best, as always,&lt;span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-1385959502145803628?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/1385959502145803628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=1385959502145803628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/1385959502145803628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/1385959502145803628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2009/04/eight-months.html' title='Eight Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Se5kdJiD4jI/AAAAAAAAAXg/mzJBjkI7Opw/s72-c/IMG_1350.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-605400798711373674</id><published>2009-03-23T05:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T12:15:55.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Months!</title><content type='html'>Hola todos,&lt;br /&gt;This letter marks my 7 months in Bolivia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized after sending my last letter that I forgot to elaborate about the University I am attending. I am taking one class in the morning, and it starts at 8am and goes until 11:15am (3 hours of class every day). There is one short 15-minute break around 9:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nI_VaaI/AAAAAAAAAV4/e8MS2fi1OJU/s1600-h/University2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nI_VaaI/AAAAAAAAAV4/e8MS2fi1OJU/s320/University2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318317525259610530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5zSYKmnaI/AAAAAAAAAVg/NQqhQM21i7w/s1600-h/El+Encuentro2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 169px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5zSYKmnaI/AAAAAAAAAVg/NQqhQM21i7w/s320/El+Encuentro2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318314969532898722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above left: My University "Domingo Savio." Above right: Cafeteria "El Encuentro at the University.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classes in this university are rather large: around 60-70 students. At 80 students they break the class into two groups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The University itself is essentially one big 5-story building with classrooms and labs. A picture of the University is above. Right outside there is a little courtyard area and a cafeteria building which sells soda, juice, salteñas, sandwiches, and the like. A picture of the cafeteria, called "El Encuentro" is also above. Below are two photos: one of some university boys eating salteñas, and one of me eating a salteña.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5v5n2idsI/AAAAAAAAAVA/2Ln8cI_R094/s1600-h/Boys+eating+saltenas2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 186px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5v5n2idsI/AAAAAAAAAVA/2Ln8cI_R094/s320/Boys+eating+saltenas2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318311245712094914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5xTQ5DRYI/AAAAAAAAAVY/FmFmgHc_PM4/s1600-h/Eating+a+Saltena2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 183px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5xTQ5DRYI/AAAAAAAAAVY/FmFmgHc_PM4/s320/Eating+a+Saltena2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318312785736844674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above left: Boys eating salteñas. Above right: Me eating a salteña.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This University is particularly focused on assigning group exposiciónes, or presentations. Each group of about 5 people is assigned an overlying theme, and each individual in that group has a specific topic from the theme to present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My current class is Cultura Boliviana (Bolivian Culture). The last topic I presented was the Jesuit missions in Bolivia. I think I actually presented quite well because I received several compliments. And then, when we had our first test for this class (on Monday), one of the 10 questions was pulled directly from the information I presented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The University also takes several trips around Bolivia in order to enhance learning. In my last (and first) class of Realidad Nacional e Internacional, we traveled to Yvaga Guazu for one morning. Yvaga Guazu is an ecological park that features everything from orchids to rubber trees to bonsai trees and bamboo. There are also several animals including toucans, a collared peccary, and monkeys.&lt;br /&gt;With my current class there are plans for an upcoming trip to Amboro Park, which, essentially, is jungle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nI71l1I/AAAAAAAAAWA/ZONOMXVUcAs/s1600-h/Rubber+Tree2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nI71l1I/AAAAAAAAAWA/ZONOMXVUcAs/s320/Rubber+Tree2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318317525244942162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: In front of a rubber tree at Yvaga Guazu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another fun short trip that I took this month was to the Río Piraí (Piraí River). It is just on the outskirts of Santa Cruz and is a nice little place to visit with friends on a Saturday afternoon. It is fairly shallow and very sandy, so swimming more than wading is a tad difficult, but nonetheless fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The University also had a recent seminar on communication and one of the speakers I went to see is former President Carlos D. Mesa Gisbert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5xTIFL4zI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/rzoFwPlPRs8/s1600-h/Carlos+Mesa2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5xTIFL4zI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/rzoFwPlPRs8/s320/Carlos+Mesa2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318312783371821874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Former Bolivian President Carlos D. Mesa Gisbert. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday March 7th, Santa Cruz had a day “Contra el Dengue.” Basically a government enforced “Spring Cleaning,” where vehicles were prohibited and all citizens were expected to stay home from 7am until 7pm and clean their houses. The idea was to eliminate mosquito homes and decrease the presence of Dengue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sundays are still quinta days with the family. Recently, on one particularly silly Sunday, my little cousins asked me if I speak English. Of course, I had to say “no”… they are in English-speaking schools, and since my interest is in learning Spanish, I don’t really want to give them reason to speak English with me. Of course, this got them very confused because they had I thought I was from the United States (or was it Canada?)&lt;br /&gt;They had almost become settled on the idea that I am a Mexican, when my aunt stepped in and explained the whole situation.&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who didn’t know, I am an albino Jamaican. I speak Jamaicanese, which, though it sounds similar to English, is very different. Bob Marley is my uncle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow! What self-realizations I have made here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5zSmcGaAI/AAAAAAAAAVo/1eo56ezapQs/s1600-h/HostDads+Birthday2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5zSmcGaAI/AAAAAAAAAVo/1eo56ezapQs/s320/HostDads+Birthday2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318314973364381698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: At my host dad's birthday party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago we celebrated my host dad’s birthday. They had a dinner at midnight the night before (just as it turned into the day of his birthday), and then another dinner on his actual birthday. I gave him a photo album as a gift with a few photos from throughout the year. Above is a photo from his birthday of my host parents, all their friends, and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father’s Day was the 19th. We had another nice dinner in celebration as well as a lunch. I met my host grandfather for the first time (on my dad’s side). He told me I am gorgeous, skinny, and have beautiful eyes. He made me come sit by him and talk. He then told me to stop eating yucca or I would get fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5v55AFLvI/AAAAAAAAAVI/k5lDntcgam8/s1600-h/hormigas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5v55AFLvI/AAAAAAAAAVI/k5lDntcgam8/s320/hormigas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318311250315521778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Ants!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 19th (yesterday) I also found a wall full of ants in my bedroom. Our house constantly has problems with ant infestations, I think perhaps because of the location. I took a picture (above) to share. It really freaked me out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nVDGpxI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/X833sBT82Lk/s1600-h/Rain+in+Santa+Cruz2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 207px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nVDGpxI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/X833sBT82Lk/s320/Rain+in+Santa+Cruz2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318317528496645906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nScXeiI/AAAAAAAAAWI/gFxrBs8an-I/s1600-h/Rainy2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nScXeiI/AAAAAAAAAWI/gFxrBs8an-I/s320/Rainy2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318317527797299746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Rain in Santa Cruz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer has been ending in Bolivia, and the rain and colder weather is moving in. When it rains in Bolivia, it really really rains. Above are two rainy day photos. There is essentially no drainage system and the city is quite flat. Thus, the whole place fills up like a lake, especially in the streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below is a photo of Kinder Hello Kitty, which is a kindergarten in the north of city that is just really really cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51ne7NzHI/AAAAAAAAAWY/rO7dgmSrEOE/s1600-h/Kinder+Hello2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 164px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51ne7NzHI/AAAAAAAAAWY/rO7dgmSrEOE/s320/Kinder+Hello2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318317531147914354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5zSvMcKNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/olJNqUHAtPU/s1600-h/Kinder+Hello+Kitty2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 163px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc5zSvMcKNI/AAAAAAAAAVw/olJNqUHAtPU/s320/Kinder+Hello+Kitty2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318314975714617554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: Kinder Hello Kitty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now! I will be back in Arkansas in less than 3 months (11th of June)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the best!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"&gt;Maija&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-605400798711373674?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/605400798711373674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=605400798711373674' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/605400798711373674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/605400798711373674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2009/03/7-months.html' title='Seven Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sc51nI_VaaI/AAAAAAAAAV4/e8MS2fi1OJU/s72-c/University2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-6721528048002919449</id><published>2009-02-27T14:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T14:42:24.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Six Months!</title><content type='html'>Hola todos,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving right along, I find myself completing over 6 months in Bolivia. 6 months! That’s half a year. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to my host mom, my experience in Bolivia is now complete. That’s right: I had Dengue.&lt;br /&gt;Dengue fever is an acute febril disease transmitted through mosquitoes. For a full 7 days, I experienced fever, headache, nausea, muscle aches, lethargy, and loss of appetite. Rolling over in bed left me breathing like I’d just run a marathon.&lt;br /&gt;Dengue originates from Africa, but in the past several years it has appeared in much of South America. This year there is a particularly large outbreak in the Santa Cruz area where I am. Ironically, about 2 days into the illness, I received an email from the U.S. consulate in Bolivia warning all U.S. citizens to beware of Dengue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning of February, right before Dengue set in, I went and signed myself up for classes in the local, private university of Domingo Savio. This university does monthly classes. So, every month I will take a different class.&lt;br /&gt;For February, I entered into a class called “Realidad Nacional e Internacional” or “National and International Reality.” It is a mixed history/economy/general knowledge class with a special focus on Bolivia. Topics discussed range from national debt to drug consumption to poverty.&lt;br /&gt;The content of the class is absolutely excellent for me because it covers all kinds of interesting information that won’t be taught in many (if any) U.S. colleges, and it all pertains to Bolivia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sahqps-k8ZI/AAAAAAAAAS8/z4qsfiHbYQk/s1600-h/First+Exam.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sahqps-k8ZI/AAAAAAAAAS8/z4qsfiHbYQk/s320/First+Exam.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307609425536938386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: My first University Exam- in Spanish! (I think if you click it you can see it bigger and maybe try to read it.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my first exam this past Monday. Since a 50% is considered a “passing” grade (though perhaps not a particularly “good” grade), it was my goal to make just that. I am proud to say, though, that I managed to do even better: a 64%.  A photo of my test is attached… I’m pretty proud of it! Also, you can see the smiley face I drew on the question I did not know the answer to… sometimes the best answer is no answer at all—just a big Rotary smile!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carnaval just recently ended. Carnaval is essentially the celebration of Mardi Gras, only in South America it is huge. In Santa Cruz, Carnaval lasts 4 days. The first day there is a corso (parade) of bands, dancers, beautiful costumes, and floats featuring Carnaval Kings and Queens. The following three days are outright mayhem—the center of the city is closed off to cars and people play in the streets with water balloons, water guns, spray foam, and bottles of ink in all different colors. Music is heard on every street corner, and people dance everywhere. Everyone celebrates—from the 5-year-old kids to the 80-year-old women; everyone in the center of the city is subject to water, ink, and foam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SahqpDCeQWI/AAAAAAAAASs/lFWMlFlPSps/s1600-h/Before+Carnaval.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SahqpDCeQWI/AAAAAAAAASs/lFWMlFlPSps/s320/Before+Carnaval.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307609414278988130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SahqpPCrD0I/AAAAAAAAASk/VsKZYhd8iyg/s1600-h/After+Carnaval.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SahqpPCrD0I/AAAAAAAAASk/VsKZYhd8iyg/s320/After+Carnaval.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307609417501052738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Before and After Carnaval photos. I'm wearing my Sarazos comparsa casaca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined a comparsa. A comparsa is a group of people who get together to celebrate—complete with a private barbeque, band, and an area for dancing. My comparsa was called “Sarazos” and was themed with the colors blue and yellow. Comparsas also give out “casacas,” or shirts that are meant to be ruined during Carnaval.&lt;br /&gt;Because Carnaval uses so much ink, I had to take special care of my hair so it wouldn’t end up permanently colorful. I had it braided in small little braids all over my head—a process which took all of 3 hours. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SahqpVnc4vI/AAAAAAAAAS0/u1sPZxqSuwU/s1600-h/Braiding+Hair.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SahqpVnc4vI/AAAAAAAAAS0/u1sPZxqSuwU/s320/Braiding+Hair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307609419265925874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Getting my hair braided for Carnaval.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, every day before leaving the house out I rubbed baby oil all over it (and, in fact, all over my whole body). After that I put a handkerchief over my head. All in all, it worked pretty well; only a few small pink streaks are still visible in my hair.&lt;br /&gt;My host dad bought me the biggest water gun he could find for the celebration-- it seems he is really into "getting" other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sahqp0v2e6I/AAAAAAAAATE/_ZC2BpPZiTk/s1600-h/Me+and+my+host+dad.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sahqp0v2e6I/AAAAAAAAATE/_ZC2BpPZiTk/s320/Me+and+my+host+dad.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307609427622656930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Me and my host dad (spreading black grease all over my face—the first of my Carnaval colors!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of Bolivia's more traditional fruits, the achachairú, is just starting to be exported in a "canned peaches" type of way. I'm not sure when or if it will make it to the US, but if you happen to see it in the store, you really ought to try it! I'm not sure about the canned version yet, as I have yet to try it, but I know that the fruit itself is quite delicious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the best!&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-6721528048002919449?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/6721528048002919449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=6721528048002919449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/6721528048002919449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/6721528048002919449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2009/02/6-months.html' title='Six Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/Sahqps-k8ZI/AAAAAAAAAS8/z4qsfiHbYQk/s72-c/First+Exam.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-2557926431229296915</id><published>2009-01-27T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T16:19:05.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tour Through Bolivia</title><content type='html'>As is custom with Rotary clubs around the world, my Rotary Club here in Bolivia hosted a tour-trip around the country for all the Rotary Youth Exchange students. The trip lasted 10 days and went to almost all the major cities and famous Bolivian wonders. About 17 rotary students went, including students living in Santa Cruz, Oruro, and Sucre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHOTOS AND INFO IN THIS SECTION ARE FROM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SUCRE:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Aa3FhqHI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/bQzdK5rPWX4/s1600-h/Sucre2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 122px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Aa3FhqHI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/bQzdK5rPWX4/s320/Sucre2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296092885763074162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-AbTt7OVI/AAAAAAAAAPY/SGz9BsWRMnQ/s1600-h/Sucre3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 122px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-AbTt7OVI/AAAAAAAAAPY/SGz9BsWRMnQ/s320/Sucre3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296092893448714578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The first day we left out of the Santa Cruz airport and headed to Sucre. Thanks to the high elevation of the Andes Mountains, the majority of Bolivia is considerably colder than Santa Cruz, and I found myself in long-sleeved shirts with jackets for the majority of the trip. In Sucre, we visited a few different churches and Casa de la Libertad (Liberty House), which used to serve as Bolivia’s high court. Today, it is part of a museum. Sucre, like most of Bolivia, is also quite hilly compared to Santa Cruz. Being at high altitude, this made walking a pain. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Aaxy2UjI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CaI4YBz6SCE/s1600-h/Sucre.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Aaxy2UjI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CaI4YBz6SCE/s320/Sucre.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296092884342559282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After 100ft of walking, my breathing could be compared to that of an older, out-of-shape runner who had just barely finished a marathon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second day we took a bus to Tarabuco, a small village outside of Sucre renowned for it’s knitting. We ate lunch in a local restaurant there, and walked around admiring all the handmade quilts and fabrics. When we returned to Sucre that night, we had the chance to walk around the plaza (for what walking around we could manage), and I met with a huge surprise when I was pelted with water balloons by some of the local kids. Apparently they are already gearing up for the celebration of Carnaval in February.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHOTOS AND INFO IN THIS SECTION ARE FROM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;POTOSÍ:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Cn_yLKoI/AAAAAAAAAQI/euOZxSPC2rM/s1600-h/Potosi2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Cn_yLKoI/AAAAAAAAAQI/euOZxSPC2rM/s320/Potosi2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296095310459382402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On day 3 we left Sucre by bus and went to Potosí. Potosí is a mining town founded in the Andes Mountains.  It was founded for the workers of the nearby mine of Cerro Rico where workers mostly extract silver and zinc (though many other minerals have been found in the past, including a little bit of gold).&lt;br /&gt;We had a tour guide take us, all in full mining attire, into Cerro Rico. Before leaving we stopped at a small shop where we purchased gifts of coca leaves, juice, cigarettes, dynamite, and small bottles of 100% pure alcohol for the miners. Coca leaves are chewed as stimulants that help miners go for longer periods of time without eating. I, myself, also made use of these leaves because they help fight altitude sickness. Don't worry though-- although coca leaves can be used to make cocaine, the leaves themselves are not drugs. However, despite all the coca leaves, coca tea, and altitude pills, I still came down with a pretty bad case of altitude sickness, which involved more than several instances of vomiting out of bus windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-BdSESv8I/AAAAAAAAAP4/ihqfqcY2n_A/s1600-h/Maija+the+Miner.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 168px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-BdSESv8I/AAAAAAAAAP4/ihqfqcY2n_A/s320/Maija+the+Miner.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296094026877026242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Bc9NtZ9I/AAAAAAAAAPo/j5j0zPbWc9w/s1600-h/Buying+Coca+For+Miners.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 167px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Bc9NtZ9I/AAAAAAAAAPo/j5j0zPbWc9w/s320/Buying+Coca+For+Miners.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296094021279377362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Also, before heading to the mine, we shared a small bottle of the pure alcohol. The religious practices of the natives involve drinking a small amount of this alcohol and then offering some to Pachamama (who can be compared to mother earth) by pouring a bit on the ground and then stomping on it.&lt;br /&gt;After purchasing gifts for the miners, we got in another bus and headed up the mountainside. Inside the mine, we toured around learning all about the mine's history and its workers. Average pay for a worker in the mines today is around 35 bolivianos (about US$5) for a full day’s work, which we were informed is actually &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-BcwThW2I/AAAAAAAAAPg/U0pNF0t6wsQ/s1600-h/Arsenic+Crystals.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 187px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-BcwThW2I/AAAAAAAAAPg/U0pNF0t6wsQ/s320/Arsenic+Crystals.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296094017814092642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;quite good—enough to support a family. Inside the mine I saw several veins of zinc, lots of sparkling pyrite, and tons of some beautiful, white, crystalline substance. When I asked what this gorgeous white mineral was, my urge to find a little to take home with me was completely overthrown; it was arsenic.&lt;br /&gt;Deeper in the mine we came across a statue of Tio. Tio is essentially God, and it is said that all miners must pay him respect if they intend to find anything of value within the mines. Our tour guide, a native and speaker of Quechua, immediately did a small circular dance upon arrival at the statue of Tio. He then explained who Tio was, and gave a few offerings of coca leaves and pure &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-CoE5EJhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/EnrVld8cULY/s1600-h/Tio.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 185px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-CoE5EJhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/EnrVld8cULY/s320/Tio.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296095311830459922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;alcohol (which he made a particular point of splashing on the statue’s prominent bright red member, saying that it represented fertility—Tio makes love to the Pachamama.)&lt;br /&gt;Our guide also taught us a few Quechua words just for fun. The only one I really remember is “munacuyqui” (sounds like “moon-uh-quick-ie”) which means “te quiero” or “I love you” (but in the non-romantic way).&lt;br /&gt;Outside of the mine, our guide gave us a demonstration on how the miners put together dynamite. Using a fuse that was particularly long for demonstration reasons, he lit a stick of dynamite and proceeded to pass it around for silly pictures until the fuse became short. Then he ran a ways down the mountainside, set it down, and came back just in time for the explosion. It was awesome! I have never been that close to exploding dynamite in my life… the whole ground shook from under me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-BdAqaM2I/AAAAAAAAAPw/2wtFM-VTSyY/s1600-h/Children+Of+Miners.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 192px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-BdAqaM2I/AAAAAAAAAPw/2wtFM-VTSyY/s320/Children+Of+Miners.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296094022205059938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Later, we headed to the Convent Santa Teresa in Potosí. This is probably the most interesting museum I have ever visited in my life, and I am proud to say that my Spanish is good enough to enjoy museums to that extent. We learned all about how royal families from Europe (who came to Potosí to bask in the riches that the miners dug up for them) would often send their 2nd born (if a daughter) to this convent in order to forgive the sins of the rest of the family by offering their daughter's life to religion. The girls always came on their 15th birthdays, and there were never more than 21 girls in the convent at one time (because 7 x 3 = 21, and 7 and 3 are both holy numbers in the Catholic religion… 7 days of creation, and 3 for the trinity). The women lived inside the convent, and after entering they were never given a &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Bdd7lgWI/AAAAAAAAAQA/VazcnUqy94A/s1600-h/Potosi.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Bdd7lgWI/AAAAAAAAAQA/VazcnUqy94A/s320/Potosi.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296094030061732194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;chance to leave or make any kind of connections with the outside world. The women even had to bury their own dead (with lime) within the church, only to dig them up 2 years later and move the now-preserved bodies to their final resting spots. The stories of these women who went from lives of royalty to lives of silence, prayer, and baking sweets absolutely fascinated me. In the beginning, they weren’t even allowed to see their families, though they could talk to them through a black veil. Today, of course, they are allowed to talk to and hug their families, and even leave the convent whenever they please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHOTOS AND INFO IN THIS SECTION ARE FROM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;UYUNI:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EI-K_POI/AAAAAAAAAQo/3gJrrLh8Bv0/s1600-h/Salt+Flats.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 153px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EI-K_POI/AAAAAAAAAQo/3gJrrLh8Bv0/s320/Salt+Flats.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296096976473898210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;              Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia, is the most  beautiful place I have ever  visited in my life. It is the largest salt  desert in the  entire world,  measuring 12,000 square kilometers and  containing around 90% of the   world’s salt-- a resource that is still  pretty much untouched.&lt;div class="views-field-body"&gt;&lt;div class="field-content"&gt;&lt;div id="field-body-content"&gt;  &lt;p&gt;There is no airport near the Uyuni, so the only way to get there is  by bus. After one night in Potosí at the Hotel Avenida we took the bus on to Uyuni and the Salar.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On the outskirts of the salar we saw llamas running around &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EIZvykjI/AAAAAAAAAQY/az6CRAGNVkc/s1600-h/Llamas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 149px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EIZvykjI/AAAAAAAAAQY/az6CRAGNVkc/s320/Llamas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296096966696145458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and  stopped to see if we could get close to them. I had never seen a llama  so close to me in my life! They were everywhere-- they were even walking  around near a nearby gas station!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As you come upon the salar, it seems like driving through dirty snow.   However,  the longer you drive, the whiter the "snow" (salt) becomes   until,  eventually, looking around the desert becomes absolutely   blinding  without sunglasses. The ground is so perfectly  brilliant in  every  direction! The only other colors to be seen are in the blue,  cloudy  sky.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4bcfgd_WA4/TbtEh3lUf5I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/udg06syg4KE/s1600/salaruyuni.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4bcfgd_WA4/TbtEh3lUf5I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/udg06syg4KE/s400/salaruyuni.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601145910212198290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EIru4nWI/AAAAAAAAAQg/kxwnUrWtiGo/s1600-h/Salt+And+Desert.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 185px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EIru4nWI/AAAAAAAAAQg/kxwnUrWtiGo/s320/Salt+And+Desert.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296096971524185442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The sun  reflects off the ground  and easily makes for the worst for  the  worst sunburn of your life  what with UV rays from both above and  below. The high altitude (almost 12,000 ft) makes the sun's rays even  more intense, and I sincerely regretted having forgotten my sunscreen.  Nevertheless, it was worth it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This desert  was actually considered  for a place in the 7 wonders of  the world, and  if you ask me, it  definitely should have won. Since   everything is white as far as the eye can see, it also makes for  great   trick-photography.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P4z9akk_21g/TbtEiYd7UsI/AAAAAAAAAdg/tAjfZQcgjf4/s1600/IMG_0299.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 120px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P4z9akk_21g/TbtEiYd7UsI/AAAAAAAAAdg/tAjfZQcgjf4/s400/IMG_0299.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601145919039558338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We visited a salt refinery and learned about how  they collect, dry,   iodize, and bag the salt. The entire process is very rudimentary and  the salt is bagged  by hand—one bag at a time. Each bag is even sealed  by hand using a hot flame.&lt;/p&gt;We also saw the piles of salt that they form on the salar to let the   water drain out of the salt before the bring it to be processed.    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bh-tPYgX9ZA/TbtGf0TiGMI/AAAAAAAAAdw/bpx33L8Liy0/s1600/IMG_0333.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 122px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bh-tPYgX9ZA/TbtGf0TiGMI/AAAAAAAAAdw/bpx33L8Liy0/s400/IMG_0333.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601148073995802818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then, we drove across the salt desert for a few hours and stopped by  the Hotel de Sal Playa Blanca- a hotel made out of bricks formed from  the surrounding salt. Although we did not spend the night, we did have a  chance to look at the beautiful building and the international flags  flying outside of it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also visited the Isla del Pescado (Fish Island), a fish-shaped  island within the “lake” of salt. Since  the perfect white salt had a   resemblance of snow, it was spectacular to  see right next to the giant   1000-year-old cacti on the island. A naturally formed coral arc can  also be found on the island, and we had a great time climbing around it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;We ate  llama for lunch, and when we  left the island, I sat on top of the 4-wheeler as we drove across the  desert.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JwsKRSvvqa4/TbtEiGF3ueI/AAAAAAAAAdY/KBlGRUtEu4k/s1600/IMG_0330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 187px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JwsKRSvvqa4/TbtEiGF3ueI/AAAAAAAAAdY/KBlGRUtEu4k/s400/IMG_0330.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601145914106821090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It was SOOOO beautiful! The  wind and watery salt blew in my face as  we drove, coating my hair and  entire body with a layer of salt. Little did I care at the time, but it  would make my sunburn hurt just   that much worse later on.&lt;br /&gt;When we  finally left Uyuni, we headed to a train cemetery where lay   tons of  rusted out old train parts in the middle of the desert. As of  yet there is  no museum  or guide to explain why these trains stopped  their trip into  Bolivia.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed back to Potosí for the night in what should have  been a long &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZHGwO2KZ8E/TbtEioLla3I/AAAAAAAAAdo/1CTGKdAzCxw/s1600/SDC10043.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 119px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZHGwO2KZ8E/TbtEioLla3I/AAAAAAAAAdo/1CTGKdAzCxw/s400/SDC10043.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601145923257592690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(but bearable) bus ride. However, thanks to mechanical problems,  the  bus  had to stop twice so the driver could do emergency repairs. It   turned  into an 11-hour long painful bus adventure, complete with sore   sunburns,  a lack of aloe vera, and a completely filled bus—topped off   with  hitchhikers who slept in the aisles between the seats using our   feet as  pillows.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I finally drifted off to sleep around 2:00 am in the  morning while   we were stopped for the second time, and a few hours later we finally   managed to reach Potosí for the night.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EI9use_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Kb0YJtzwo0Y/s1600-h/Salt+On+Glasses.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 103px; height: 137px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-EI9use_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Kb0YJtzwo0Y/s320/Salt+On+Glasses.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296096976355228658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Although Salar de Uyuni is undoubtedly the most beautiful place I  have ever been in my life, the fact that it is so remote makes it  difficult for travelers to visit. It is difficult if not impossible to  book hotels and buses online, and one must be willing and able to "go  with the flow" in case the bus needs emergency repairs while on the  road, as ours did.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I was lucky to be able to have this experience with Rotary's  tour guide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;            &lt;/div&gt;             &lt;/div&gt;PHOTOS AND INFO IN THIS SECTION ARE FROM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LA PAZ:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-GcXLpTlI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/os5z0IJJUMg/s1600-h/La+Paz.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-GcXLpTlI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/os5z0IJJUMg/s320/La+Paz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296099508628311634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Though I didn’t get much sleep that night, the next day, day 5, was delightfully low-key. We visited la Casa de la Moneda where they used to mint the country’s money (logical, right? since Potosí is the source of the country’s silver). After that, we took another bus to Sucre and then flew to La Paz for the night.&lt;br /&gt;Day 6 we spent in La Paz. In the morning we saw several different museums in la Calle Jaen. However, if I tried to tell you something about these museums I would only be working off of what other people told me—the fact of the matter is I was absolutely wiped out with altitude sickness and sunburn pains to the point where I fell asleep on the stairs of one of the museums until some European tourists came along and found &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Gcb2rp0I/AAAAAAAAARA/WZ6KmLBQ0Bw/s1600-h/Llama+Fetuses.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Gcb2rp0I/AAAAAAAAARA/WZ6KmLBQ0Bw/s320/Llama+Fetuses.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296099509882562370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;me and offered me coca leaves to chew on and revive me. While I realize now that “accepting coca from strangers” ought to fit into that little book of things your mother always tells you not to do, it certainly did do the trick. Within a few minutes I was feeling a lot better and managed to get the strength to follow the group, though groggily, through the rest of the museums.&lt;br /&gt;Later that night when I was feeling better, we went to la Calle de las Brujas (Witch’s Street) which is a fairly famous street in La Paz known for selling all kinds of typical Bolivian items (lots of alpaca-wool clothing, jewelry, and llama fetuses). I had read about this street before visiting, and was particularly excited about buying a llama fetus, which Bolivians sell as offerings for Pachamama. However, it turns out that llama fetuses actually smell quite bad, and I couldn’t fathom carrying one around in my suitcase for the rest of the trip—let alone trying to keep it in one piece until my return to the states.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHOTOS AND INFO IN THIS SECTION ARE FROM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;COPACABANA/ISLA DEL SOL:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mjI1geI/AAAAAAAAARg/yevaRGUpgvk/s1600-h/Lake+Titicaca+Hotel.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mjI1geI/AAAAAAAAARg/yevaRGUpgvk/s320/Lake+Titicaca+Hotel.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296363566427111906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On day 7 we left La Paz and headed out to Copacabana. Copacabana is a city right on the edge of Lake Titicaca, the highest (elevation) navigable lake in the world. We ate lunch there, and then headed out in a small boat to la Isla del Sol (Sun Island). Isla del Sol is gorgeous. The base of it is covered in the ruins of Incan structures, which the Incans built as one of their last stops on the way to Machu Picchu. Isla del Sol was built for the men who searched for the “inner fire that does not burn” which, upon explanation, sounded to me to be a concept quite similar to that of enlightenment. The nearby Isla de la Luna (Moon Island), which I did not have the &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mVLFAAI/AAAAAAAAARY/ZEnDdqHc9Yk/s1600-h/Incan+Ruins+Titicaca.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mVLFAAI/AAAAAAAAARY/ZEnDdqHc9Yk/s320/Incan+Ruins+Titicaca.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296363562678419458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;opportunity to visit, was meant to be a haven for the women.&lt;br /&gt;We hiked to the top of the Isla del Sol were we found a village and a beautiful hotel where we stayed the night. One of the girls on the trip had her birthday that night, and as a gift we rented one of the local llamas for a few hours and took turns taking pictures and walking around with it. The view from the hotel was amazing—it is no wonder to me that the Incans decided to build on this island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On day 8, our Isla del Sol tour guide showed us the &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2me5Db4I/AAAAAAAAARQ/zV_zba52s0c/s1600-h/Fountain+Of+Youth.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2me5Db4I/AAAAAAAAARQ/zV_zba52s0c/s320/Fountain+Of+Youth.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296363565287174018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fountain of Youth (as built by the Incans) on the island. We all took turns drinking and splashing the fountain’s water on ourselves. One boy in the group stripped down to his boxer’s and bathed in it. Then we went down to the water's edge and “swam” in Lake Titicaca. It could hardly be called much of a swim, however, because the water is so cold that I barely had enough strength to pull myself back out after I had jumped in.  Needless to say, the locals looked at us as though we were absolutely crazy.&lt;br /&gt;After that, we crossed the lake in a boat again and headed back to La Paz. We had a few hours of free time in La Paz, and two of my friends and I took the opportunity to go around with a list of questions and interview a few local merchants.&lt;br /&gt;We wanted to ask them about who they are and their thoughts about the country’s political situation. On January 25th there will be a referendum vote that will take place to pass (or revoke) president Evo Morales’ new constitution. Although the majority of the country is expected to vote it in, the city where I live is very much against Morales and all his moves. Thus, it was an interesting change to have the opportunity to chat with people of differing viewpoints in La Paz. However, we soon learned that it was not easy to talk to people on the streets. We met several people who didn’t speak Spanish (only Quechua), and several more that were simply too shy to respond to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mGjXrkI/AAAAAAAAARI/PAwZqSJXYfM/s1600-h/Alpaca+at+Titicaca.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mGjXrkI/AAAAAAAAARI/PAwZqSJXYfM/s320/Alpaca+at+Titicaca.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296363558753775170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We initially set out with a US mentality, which is to say, if you want to ask people questions, you have to have a cause.&lt;br /&gt;But after several of my friends’ failed attempts of presenting ourselves as university students with a few inquiries, I realized something that probably should have been obvious from the beginning: Bolivian street merchants in La Paz are not formally educated people, and our presentation did not make ourselves seem credible (as it would in the States) so much as intimidating.&lt;br /&gt;On this thought, I went up to a flower saleswoman in the plaza and, addressing her with respect, told her I was a just high school kid in Bolivia for the first time and trying to learn a little Spanish. I told her I was interested in her city, and asked if I could ask her a bit more about it. Just like that, we got our first interview.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYCFpLw_4RI/AAAAAAAAAR4/8j6y3bmJeNw/s1600-h/Lake+Titicaca3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYCFpLw_4RI/AAAAAAAAAR4/8j6y3bmJeNw/s320/Lake+Titicaca3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296380104367137042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t say that I learned a ton by talking with these people, but it was definitely interesting to do. I only met one merchant who had had the opportunity to enter college, and I met several who had never even been to high school. Most were working shops as a continuation of their parents work. To me, these kinds of people are just as fascinating to meet as people with multiple college degrees. In some respects, they are more fascinating—partly because I haven’t met many people with these kinds of backgrounds in my life.&lt;br /&gt;When I asked what the people wanted in their government, almost everyone told me they seek a leader who will listen to the voice of the people and help with the poverty of the country. It is for this very reason that Evo Morales was elected—Morales is known for going from town to town to talk with individuals, and though he is not well-educated (and in fact dropped out of high school), he represents the one-on-one attention that Bolivian citizens crave.&lt;br /&gt;As an ambassador, I will neither say that I approve or disapprove of the current president. I honestly don’t think I know enough about the situation to say one way or the other anyways. However, I will say that Bolivia's political situation is an interesting one to think about and meditate on.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYCFo5BCNuI/AAAAAAAAARw/w9h3LaV_OX8/s1600-h/Lake+Titicaca2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYCFo5BCNuI/AAAAAAAAARw/w9h3LaV_OX8/s320/Lake+Titicaca2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296380099334125282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On day 9 we went to the airport in La Paz around 1pm in the afternoon. Our plane was initially supposed to leave at 2pm to take us to Cochabamba from where we would later fly to Tarija for the night. However, a series of delays pushed back our flight until 4:30, 5:30, 8:30… and before we knew it we found ourselves sadly scratching Cochabamba out of the itinerary. When nighttime came we began wondering about the possibility of having to spend another night in La Paz, and were curious if the airline would give us hotel vouchers. But, the airline (which unlike US airlines has no reason to give out vouchers in order to keep a good name, since it already has a monopoly on in-country flights around Bolivia) refused to cancel our flight, saying that the airplane would surely come in just 10 more minutes, 20 more minutes, one more hour…. After midnight, a small riot began. People began shouting at airport security and personnel and insisting monetary compensation for their wait. The airline had shuttled us through to the pre-boarding section to raise our hopes that the planes were coming. When we learned this wasn’t at all true, the people banded together and pushed back through the security checkpoints, which is really quite illegal, and headed to the employee-only area where they insisted on “talking” with someone.&lt;br /&gt;It was fairly dramatic, and it only added to the drama to know that the head and loudest voice &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mjlg-xI/AAAAAAAAARo/jwgmJ4KFyzE/s1600-h/Lake+Titicaca.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYB2mjlg-xI/AAAAAAAAARo/jwgmJ4KFyzE/s320/Lake+Titicaca.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296363566547401490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;amongst the screaming Bolivians was our Rotary tour guide.&lt;br /&gt;In the end, the plane finally came. We had waited for 13-hours in the airport, but the airline gave out no vouchers, and we spent the night in Tarija as originally planned.&lt;br /&gt;One interesting thing that we did see during our stay in the airport was a couple who had just been married. Apparently it is a kind of custom to walk around the entire “village” right after a wedding, and the bride and groom had even made it to the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHOTOS AND INFO IN THIS SECTION ARE FROM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TARIJA:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 10th and final day we spent in Tarija. Tarija is famous for its vineyards, and we visited a small one called Casa Vieja. There, we had the opportunity to taste all the different wines that they make there—all of which were quite sweet.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYCFpW2sSsI/AAAAAAAAASA/rh_m-3KjURM/s1600-h/Saice.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SYCFpW2sSsI/AAAAAAAAASA/rh_m-3KjURM/s320/Saice.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296380107343809218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate lunch in the local Mercado—a local dish called Saice.&lt;br /&gt;Then we drove out into the Tarija countryside and walked along a pathway through the woods to arrive at several giant waterfalls. We spent a little time swimming there before packing up, driving to the airport, and, with only a one-hour airline delay, returning to Santa Cruz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was an interesting and fun trip. Hope you all enjoy the stories and photos… I know I wrote a lot, but… there was a lot to be said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-2557926431229296915?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/2557926431229296915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=2557926431229296915' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/2557926431229296915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/2557926431229296915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2009/01/tour-through-bolivia.html' title='Tour Through Bolivia'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX-Aa3FhqHI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/bQzdK5rPWX4/s72-c/Sucre2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-918233064223446899</id><published>2009-01-21T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T13:43:32.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Five Months!</title><content type='html'>I have now completed 5 months in Bolivia! Over the last 10 days I went on an amazing tour of the country of Bolivia and got to see all kinds of really wonderful stuff! With well over 700 photos to prove it, I am going to write another letter in the upcoming few days (when I have time to sift through all my memories and create an ordered story for you) in order to illustrate this spectacular adventure.&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I will update you on my activities for the past month:&lt;br /&gt;I had the opportunity to see a Bolivian wedding! As the majority of Bolivians are Roman Catholics, it turns out that a Bolivian wedding, at least in Santa Cruz, is quite similar to a wedding you might see in the United States. Except, of course, it is all in Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;CHRISTMAS in Bolivia is a bit different. Instead of opening presents in the morning, they open them on the night of Christmas Eve, just at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhapsRmI/AAAAAAAAAO4/JeyzZ7DS3ak/s1600-h/Xmas+Family+and+Grandparents.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 197px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhapsRmI/AAAAAAAAAO4/JeyzZ7DS3ak/s320/Xmas+Family+and+Grandparents.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296076505714804322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: The family. My host parents, grandparents, and brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my grandparent’s house for this celebration, with all of my dad’s side of the family—including, oddly enough, the young ones. I asked my uncle (who has several young kids) how it is possible that his children can believe in Santa if they are awake all night long. When does Santa supposedly bring their presents? He told me that his kids believe Santa brings extra presents to their real house while they are out at the grandparents’. But then he turned to me and said something that I believe would translate along the lines of, “Of course, it’s really kind of hard to believe in Santa. Most kids here don’t, or not for very long. After all, what kind of a buffoon would wander around on a summer night dressed in a giant red and white suit?”&lt;br /&gt;Being on the other side of the equator, we are in the middle of summer right now. So I guess he has a point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhroUlNI/AAAAAAAAAPA/_GG4E8XnLv8/s1600-h/Xmas+kids+in+dark.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 273px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhroUlNI/AAAAAAAAAPA/_GG4E8XnLv8/s320/Xmas+kids+in+dark.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296076510272459986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Opening Christmas presents at nighttime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the present opening and a nice dinner with the grandparents, the families with young children headed home to go open Santa’s gifts. My family headed to a giant party for my host mom’s side of the family where we stayed for the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;For New Year’s there are tons of parties all around Santa Cruz. They range from small, free house parties with just a few close friends to giant US$200 per ticket fiestas with thousands of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhbKmvwI/AAAAAAAAAOw/t4zk_sHR6Cs/s1600-h/New+Years+Outfit.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 275px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhbKmvwI/AAAAAAAAAOw/t4zk_sHR6Cs/s320/New+Years+Outfit.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296076505852854018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Getting ready for New Years in my bedroom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I elected to go to a cheaper yet still fairly large event at Las Lomas de Arena (“The Sand Hills”). This is a place just outside of the city famous for big sand dunes that give the appearance and feel of being in the middle of the desert.&lt;br /&gt;The New Year’s party was at a hotel there, and since it started after dark I regret to admit that I didn’t get much of an opportunity to see and enjoy the dunes. Thankfully, since it is so close to the city, it will be an easy one-day trip that I can take with some friends later on in the year. In any case, I had a great time dancing and celebrating 2009 with all my friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhePCQQI/AAAAAAAAAOo/QTkp3KqClhc/s1600-h/Making+Saltenas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 261px; height: 195px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhePCQQI/AAAAAAAAAOo/QTkp3KqClhc/s320/Making+Saltenas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296076506676740354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Making salteñas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used my salteña class skills this month to try and make my first batch of salteñas. They turned out okay, but there was a lack of juice inside them. I have since learned that salteñas in other parts of the country don’t necessarily have to have lots of juice. However, based on the reactions of my host parents, I’d have to guess that juice is a gravely important aspect of Santa Cruz salteñas. Hopefully with some practice and Bolivian instruction I can perfect the recipe before returning to the States so that I can share this traditional food with my family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhYr7AnI/AAAAAAAAAOg/k84w9QwydTk/s1600-h/Cooked+Saltena.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 191px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhYr7AnI/AAAAAAAAAOg/k84w9QwydTk/s320/Cooked+Saltena.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296076505187287666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: One of my salteñas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past few days, I have taken the advantage of otherwise uninteresting mornings by walking around the city solo. Doing so has led me to discover all kinds of things. For example, one morning I walked to a nearby park where I had never been early in the morning. There, I saw a surprising number of people curled up on the pretty green grass-- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;sleeping shoelessly and blanketlessly. Homeless.&lt;br /&gt;I even saw one family of a mother, father, and two sons who looked to be about 5 and 7 years old, sharing a "breakfast" on the grass underneath a tree. Breakfast seemed to consist of a few scraps of food and a bottle of Fanta soda. Such poverty, with beggars and children sleeping on roadsides, is not terribly uncommon in Santa Cruz. For me, however, it is something quite new.&lt;br /&gt;That’s all for now! You can expect my update over the Bolivia trip soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chau,&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-918233064223446899?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/918233064223446899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=918233064223446899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/918233064223446899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/918233064223446899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2009/01/five-months.html' title='Five Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SX9xhapsRmI/AAAAAAAAAO4/JeyzZ7DS3ak/s72-c/Xmas+Family+and+Grandparents.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-8392813195284177447</id><published>2008-12-21T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T16:35:29.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Months!</title><content type='html'>I am now at 4 months in Bolivia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after Thanksgiving, Enrique Iglesias came to Bolivia. With the cheapest ticket costing only $8, I figured it was something I had to see. So I purchased the $15 upgraded ticket, grabbed a few friends, and head to my first big-time concert. I had an amazing time singing “Bailamos!”&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t my only musical experience this month. My host family also took me to a cover band for Pink Floyd. It was awesome! They had all kinds of visuals and lights set up, and the music was fairly close to the real thing too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month I also started and finished my first Spanish novel for fun—the first book of Harry Potter. My Spanish has improved enough to where I was able to read without stopping once to use a dictionary. Of course, there were plenty of words I didn’t understand, but I was able to figure them out by the context.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699LaNiGI/AAAAAAAAAMk/YtM16YukZFU/s1600-h/Dancing+with+Elva+at+graduation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 220px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699LaNiGI/AAAAAAAAAMk/YtM16YukZFU/s320/Dancing+with+Elva+at+graduation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282368271684569186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Dancing with Elva at her graduation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the graduation of the family maid, Elva. She graduated #1 in her class of about 40 people-- a very small school by the name of Ramón Dario Gutierrez. I had originally thought that Elva was much older than me, but it turns out that she is 18, my same age. I asked how long Elva has worked for my family, and my host mom told me 4 years. She started when she was 14.&lt;br /&gt;I met Elva's mother. She is a chola (like what I dressed up as for Halloween), and also a colla. She came down from Oruro area (where she lives) for the graduation. She has a total of 8 children, and being unable to support them all, 7 of them are living spread out through the country and, like Elva, working and studying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Elva’s mother isn’t from Santa Cruz, she had a different way of greeting. Instead of the normal kiss on the cheek, she did this weird handshake/hug/kiss one cheek/kiss the other cheek/hug routine. Naturally, it was an awkward and misplaced greeting on my part… I didn’t know that greetings varied so much throughout Bolivia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also had a tradition where after the graduation she went to each one of the guests in turn, put a bunch of confetti on their heads, and repeated the 2-kiss greeting. I asked her what if this traditional had any kind of significance, and she told me it was just a way of saying "congratulations on coming to the graduation."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699opOUdI/AAAAAAAAAMs/x6QUQDEvUmw/s1600-h/Graduation+confetti.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 218px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699opOUdI/AAAAAAAAAMs/x6QUQDEvUmw/s320/Graduation+confetti.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282368279532163538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Elva's mom putting confetti on my host dad's head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On December 7th, I went to Cotoca for the Fiesta de Cotoca. Normally a 17-mile religious pilgrimage taken by foot, I had a friend drive me there. The town was filled with little tiendas (shops) set up along the roadsides selling food, souvenirs, and miniatures. The miniatures are offered to the Virgin Mary as a way of asking for different things. For example, by offering miniatures of dollar bills, you are asking for money. They also sold jalea (a sort of honey like substance made from sugar cane sugar) for very cheap. I was told it was a very traditional thing to buy in Cotoca on that day, so I bought two small pottery jars of it to bring back to my host family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699wM899I/AAAAAAAAAM0/r7UB6nHc8X4/s1600-h/Jalea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 237px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699wM899I/AAAAAAAAAM0/r7UB6nHc8X4/s320/Jalea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282368281561069522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Cotoca jalea in pottery jars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week I took a cooking class in a local culinary school to lean how to make a chicken salteña, beef salteña, salteña de hoja, and empanada santa clara. Salteñas and empanadas are very common foods here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday I finally got the opportunity to visit the Santa Cruz zoo. They had all kinds of unique animals, including several I had never seen or heard of before. Living near the Amazon, I was particularly impressed by all the magnificently colored toucans, parrots, and other birds. I spent ample time sitting in the walk-in aviary. I have attached a picture of myself next to a particularly large bird that I saw, as well as one of a boy taking a runaway turtle back to its home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU69-VQ3mRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/qbUgekE3ztc/s1600-h/Maija+and+bird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 153px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU69-VQ3mRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/qbUgekE3ztc/s320/Maija+and+bird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282368291509606674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU69-sKeP2I/AAAAAAAAANE/iwNa4p9wyCg/s1600-h/Runaway+turtle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 154px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU69-sKeP2I/AAAAAAAAANE/iwNa4p9wyCg/s320/Runaway+turtle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282368297656794978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above left: With a tall bird. Above right: Boy with runaway turtle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the coming weeks I am looking forward to the excitement of a Bolivian wedding, Christmas, and New Year’s—among other things. I hope everyone is enjoying some cold weather (and hopefully snow)! The Bolivian sun is just warming up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chau,&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-8392813195284177447?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/8392813195284177447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=8392813195284177447' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/8392813195284177447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/8392813195284177447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2008/12/four-months.html' title='Four Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SU699LaNiGI/AAAAAAAAAMk/YtM16YukZFU/s72-c/Dancing+with+Elva+at+graduation.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-8628072540340703151</id><published>2008-11-19T05:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T07:01:05.839-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Months!</title><content type='html'>Hola amigos, familia, y Rotary:&lt;br /&gt;Last Wednesday was my 3-month mark in Bolivia. Since the time of my last letter, I have graduated from Bolivian high school, been to my first soccer game, and visited beautiful waterfalls and ancient Incan ruins.&lt;br /&gt;School ended at the beginning of November. As with many other high schools in Santa Cruz this year, classes ended a week earlier than expected. One Friday afternoon the director simply announced that school was over. This approach is meant to keep students from traditional rioting and misbehavior associated with the last week of school.&lt;br /&gt;I participated in my school’s graduation and my host dad walked with me to receive my Bolivian diploma. The service was beautiful and not unlike that of a US graduation, with the exception of the lack of graduation cake. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mv8iFR4I/AAAAAAAAAME/6WbO8qKRAfI/s1600-h/FamilyatGraduation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 233px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mv8iFR4I/AAAAAAAAAME/6WbO8qKRAfI/s320/FamilyatGraduation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273335556330571650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: My host parents and I just before the ceremony.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later, I had my Fiesta de Promoción. This is the last opportunity the school provides for the senior class to be together, so it is a huge deal. Students and their chosen partners (often boy/girlfriends) desfilar (parade) down an aisle dressed in Prom style dresses. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mvYawjBI/AAAAAAAAAL8/CN3O_2eALDk/s1600-h/FamilyatFiesta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 217px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mvYawjBI/AAAAAAAAAL8/CN3O_2eALDk/s320/FamilyatFiesta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273335546636176402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: My whole host family and me at the the Fiesta de Promoción.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They then return to tables to sit with their families to chat and party until 2:30am. As part of the fiesta, they have a traditional Waltz that comes after every you desfilar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6pV3klYHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/o50mrX3lU4A/s1600-h/Waltz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 294px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6pV3klYHI/AAAAAAAAAMc/o50mrX3lU4A/s320/Waltz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273338406857171058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Waltzing with my host dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, my class went to a quinta outside of the city for our “Amanecida.” Amanecida literally means something like “sunrise,” and traditionally it is a party that is meant to last until the dawn of the next day. My party began at 4am and lasted until 4pm the next day.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps one of the most popular Sunday activities in Santa Cruz is to go to the stadium and watch fútbol (soccer). I went to my first ever fútbol game 3 weeks ago. It was a game between the two most popular Santa Cruz teams: Oriente and Blooming. The competitive atmosphere within the stadium was absolutely marvelous! Almost everyone in Santa Cruz has a strong sense of support for one team or the other, and I have found that asking about a person’s preference is often an easy way to start a conversation. I myself am an Oriente supporter—the team colors are green and white, the same as the colors in the Santa Cruz flag.&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, I decided to join an all-girls fútbol team in order to try and learn the game better. So far I have been to a handful of practices. The heat in Bolivia makes it seem all the more intense, but doesn’t stop it from being pretty fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I took another family trip to Samaipata. This time, though, I had the opportunity to see some of the town’s most popular tourist attractions: Las Cuevas and El Fuerte.&lt;br /&gt;Las Cuevas is an area full of beautiful waterfalls. I was able to swim out and bathe in them—it was truly amazing.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6pUxkVgMI/AAAAAAAAAMM/mp9j1Ini9VI/s1600-h/LasCuevas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6pUxkVgMI/AAAAAAAAAMM/mp9j1Ini9VI/s320/LasCuevas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273338388065648834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Las Cuevas.  You can see my host mom, me, and my friend Sarah standing up on the left.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El Fuerte is a sight of ancient Incan carvings ad ruins. I took an hour and a half hike around the area to see all the different carvings. Although there is still a bit of mystery as to the explanation of these carvings, they believe that they served some kind of religious purpose. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mu-68vUI/AAAAAAAAAL0/9oc80nu0e6o/s1600-h/ElFuerte.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 136px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mu-68vUI/AAAAAAAAAL0/9oc80nu0e6o/s320/ElFuerte.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273335539791871298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6pVdMxrKI/AAAAAAAAAMU/FVZJXaH5un0/s1600-h/TemploDeLaSacrista.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 137px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6pVdMxrKI/AAAAAAAAAMU/FVZJXaH5un0/s320/TemploDeLaSacrista.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273338399777991842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above left: Overlook of the main section of El Fuerte. Above right: At the "Templo de la Sacrista" at El Fuerte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this trip, I also got to try coca leaves for the first time! They are the main ingredient in cocaine, but the leaves themselves are not a drug. However, the miners and indigenous people of Bolivia have been known to eat them because they kill appetites and prevent altitude sickness. They are really weird to eat because they leave a slightly numb sensation in your mouth. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6muop70QI/AAAAAAAAALs/l0q4dvTdE5M/s1600-h/Coca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 317px; height: 237px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6muop70QI/AAAAAAAAALs/l0q4dvTdE5M/s320/Coca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273335533814927618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Two large bags (of many more) that we saw in a town outside of Samaipata... they are absolutely filled with coca leaves!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also attached a photo of a boa constrictor that my parents found here in Santa Cruz. One morning, I awoke to my host mom’s screams, only to go outside and find her with this snake. My host dad killed it and then later had it skinned.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6muPXAkHI/AAAAAAAAALk/nXriLlyAY4k/s1600-h/Boa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 236px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6muPXAkHI/AAAAAAAAALk/nXriLlyAY4k/s320/Boa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273335527024660594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: The boa, my host dad, and me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s all I have to update for now, but future plans promise much more to come! Enjoy Thanksgiving (I baked a few apple pies for my host family and Rotary)!&lt;br /&gt;Chau,&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-8628072540340703151?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/8628072540340703151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=8628072540340703151' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/8628072540340703151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/8628072540340703151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2008/11/three-months.html' title='Three Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SS6mv8iFR4I/AAAAAAAAAME/6WbO8qKRAfI/s72-c/FamilyatGraduation.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-6898202333589806964</id><published>2008-10-19T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T06:59:01.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Months!</title><content type='html'>Wow! I have been in Bolivia now for a little more than 2 months&lt;br /&gt;I apologize that this letter is a little late, but my laptop was in the hospital and I wanted to wait until it got out before I wrote this so that I could send pictures too (I spilled an entire cup of hot tea on my keyboard...)&lt;br /&gt;In the past month I went on 2 very exciting trips-- one was a religious retreat with my school, and the other was a Rotary sponsored trip to Concepción for the Orchid Festival.&lt;br /&gt;As I am not a particularly religious person, the retreat was an entirely new experience for me. My school is Roman Catholic, and everyone in my class went on the retreat. We spent 3 days praying and listening to lectures about religious topics (no sex before marriage and the like). For the first time, I saw people speaking in tongues and having religious experiences.&lt;br /&gt;The Rotary trip left on Friday morning in a micro (which is a giant colorful bus well-known for driving quite badly). The front of the micro was covered in all these colorful stuffed animals. It sure looks funky and interesting to have swinging bunnies in front of you for more than 5 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWYQU2VI/AAAAAAAAAKs/xeHQAKppoRg/s1600-h/Micro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 140px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWYQU2VI/AAAAAAAAAKs/xeHQAKppoRg/s200/Micro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265570365980334418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: The Micro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had told us to bring clothing for cold weather, and I did just that... only to regret it. The humidity on the trip was absolutely insane—so much so that my sweat could not evaporate. It was also incredibly hot, probably easily over 100˚F. I have never been that sweaty in my entire life!&lt;br /&gt;There were a total of 22 exchange students on the trip. 21 came from Santa Cruz (3 French, 2 Canadians, and 16 from the US), and one US boy came from Sucre.&lt;br /&gt;Our first stop was in San Javier for lunch. We drank chicha, which is a Bolivian drink traditionally made from corn fermented with spit. The kind we drank, though, (or so I hope), was not fermented and was made with water instead of spit. They call this "chicha camba" as opposed to the traditional "chicha colla."&lt;br /&gt;We toured an old church in San Javier that was entirely painted in natural, earth-based paints. Much of it had been reconstructed, but our tour guide claimed it was still 90% original. Inside we listened to a small concert of baroque music with 3 violinists and saw some really neat old mannequins which had interchangeable heads, feet, and hands so as to represent the different saints... sort of like old-fashioned religious Barbie’s&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVEZCV3vI/AAAAAAAAALU/kLTHr4PpZYI/s1600-h/San+Javier.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 140px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVEZCV3vI/AAAAAAAAALU/kLTHr4PpZYI/s200/San+Javier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265575554510610162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWDuoRvI/AAAAAAAAAKk/28PZ7fm009s/s1600-h/mannequin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 138px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWDuoRvI/AAAAAAAAAKk/28PZ7fm009s/s200/mannequin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265570360470292210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above left: Church in San Javier. Above right: Mannequin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;After that, we got back on the bus and drove some more. On the way we listened to Mariachi music and danced in the micro. We stopped on the side of the road when we saw a giant herd of... BUFFALO! They were grazing and swimming... it was SO awesome!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMLXx9523I/AAAAAAAAAJk/IQeuZa4Q7eU/s1600-h/Buffalo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMLXx9523I/AAAAAAAAAJk/IQeuZa4Q7eU/s200/Buffalo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265564892504120178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: Buffalo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to a nearby lagoon to go swimming ourselves. We saw chanchos de montañas (mountain pigs) that were super cute and little, and a loro (parrot).&lt;br /&gt;After that we finally drove to Concepción and our hotel for the night. I stayed in a room with 3 other exchange students. I spent my free time walking around looking at the tiendas (shops). The tiendas in Bolivia are by far one of the coolest things... they’re all over the sides of the streets and they’re so colorful!&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday we went to a little pueblo (tiny village) outside of Concepción—a view of the 3rd world side of Bolivia. There were lots of straw roofed huts and everyone was in traditional dress. The locals made us a lunch of chancho (pig), and some pieces still had teeth attached! They also did some traditional dances for us and let us take a quick ride on their burros (donkeys)-- just for fun. Afterwards, my friend Leah and I made friends with a little 8-year-old girl from the pueblo named Ximena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVE4Fd5TI/AAAAAAAAALc/HdYBIf_bMX4/s1600-h/Ximena.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 122px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVE4Fd5TI/AAAAAAAAALc/HdYBIf_bMX4/s200/Ximena.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265575562845218098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVDlzU3FI/AAAAAAAAALE/b4Pd4KjxtBk/s1600-h/Pueblito+Burro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 122px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVDlzU3FI/AAAAAAAAALE/b4Pd4KjxtBk/s200/Pueblito+Burro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265575540757421138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above left: Ximena. Above right: Burro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short ways from the pueblo, we went and saw a small exposition of orchids. Then, we went on a hike.&lt;br /&gt;The hike took almost 3 hours in total. I have never been so nasty, sweaty, dirty, and disgusting in my entire life. I wasn’t even that tired-- it was just that the humidity was at its maximum and the sun was SO hot!!! I had tons of these annoying little black bugs crawling all over my body in my sweat.&lt;br /&gt;After about 2 hours we got to the bottom of a mountain and took a short break. Then we continued the hike to the mountain’s base and climbed up a short ways. It was pretty intense, but the end result was worth it—the mountainside was covered in orchids!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWmA1qFI/AAAAAAAAAK0/_obhLgaGBOE/s1600-h/Mountain+Top.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 196px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWmA1qFI/AAAAAAAAAK0/_obhLgaGBOE/s200/Mountain+Top.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265570369673472082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: Hot and sweaty at the top of the mountain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, we hiked back to the bus and headed to Limoncita, another small Bolivian pueblo. The drive took an hour and a half, and when we arrived in Limoncita we were still sweaty and gross.&lt;br /&gt;It was exactly like those movies where the tourists come into the village of the natives. I was aware of a large contrast between us (exhausted, nasty, pale, foreigners versus clean, dark, dancing natives). &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQV30z5xI/AAAAAAAAAKc/0DRDoBhiki8/s1600-h/Limoncita+Dancers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQV30z5xI/AAAAAAAAAKc/0DRDoBhiki8/s200/Limoncita+Dancers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265570357274994450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Limoncita dancers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never felt so much like a tourist in my life. The people of Limoncita were dressed traditionally and dancing for us. We purchased some chicha and then moved on to Concepción for showers and sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morning we ate breakfast right outside our hotel rooms in a small courtyard area. In the tree above our heads, which was shading over the breakfast table, we spotted a tiny little monkey climbing about. It was awesome!&lt;br /&gt;In the morning we spent a lot of time looking around the city. Later, we went to the orchid festival exposition, which had all the different colors and patterns of orchids. It was so beautiful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVDO-2KJI/AAAAAAAAAK8/dEKeYyzH0zE/s1600-h/Orchids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVDO-2KJI/AAAAAAAAAK8/dEKeYyzH0zE/s200/Orchids.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265575534631725202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: Orchid exposition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to San Javier again to see a museum about the history of the church that we had seen on Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Then, we drove to a cavern made of cement that had been built on a mountainside. The artist had simply built the cavern around the mountain’s rocks without changing the position of the rocks. Our guide poured water on the ground in a particularly rocky area, and stuck one end of a huge bamboo stick in the wet rocks. She then had us put our ears to the other end of the bamboo and listen... a weird humming noise was coming from the ground! It was very cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVD_PogYI/AAAAAAAAALM/Bi5h-EKHVAk/s1600-h/Rocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 161px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMVD_PogYI/AAAAAAAAALM/Bi5h-EKHVAk/s200/Rocks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265575547587035522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Cavern.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was Halloween, and although Bolivians don’t celebrate it the same as in the states, they do try to wear costumes and eat candy. I went to a costume party on the 30th, and my host mom helped me to dress up as a cholita, or a colla girl. I was a little worried that this might be culturally unacceptable, but my mom insisted it would be okay. She was right; I won the costume contest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQVvn5RqI/AAAAAAAAAKU/RhMbX72Ff5g/s1600-h/Halloween+Cholita.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQVvn5RqI/AAAAAAAAAKU/RhMbX72Ff5g/s200/Halloween+Cholita.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265570355073336994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Halloween Cholita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I´d also like to note that I have officially voted for the first time-- absentee ballot!&lt;br /&gt;I hope everything is going well with all of you! If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.&lt;br /&gt;Chau chau,&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-6898202333589806964?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/6898202333589806964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=6898202333589806964' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/6898202333589806964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/6898202333589806964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2008/11/2-months-in-bolivia.html' title='Two Months!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SRMQWYQU2VI/AAAAAAAAAKs/xeHQAKppoRg/s72-c/Micro.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-6363499480508288442</id><published>2008-09-18T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T18:27:21.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Month!</title><content type='html'>Hi everyone!&lt;div class="Ih2E3d"&gt;I have been in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia, for about a month now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhqE15_I/AAAAAAAAAI8/id2phZDKr6c/s1600-h/bigcactus2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhqE15_I/AAAAAAAAAI8/id2phZDKr6c/s200/bigcactus2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247353851093575666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhRCWYcI/AAAAAAAAAI0/h4ijqSPtDyg/s1600-h/bigcactus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhRCWYcI/AAAAAAAAAI0/h4ijqSPtDyg/s200/bigcactus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247353844372234690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Giant cactus'!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Spanish is definitely getting better! However, my host mom still introduces me as her daughter that SPEAKS Spanish, but doesn't UNDERSTAND Spanish. This is because the people here talk really fast, and my ears are still adjusting so that I can tell the difference between the start and end of words. I am getting better at it though!&lt;br /&gt;My first weekend here, my family drove to Samaipata. Samaipata is about 75 miles outside of the city. It is a small pueblo famous for El Fuerte, a giant rock that they believe was carved by the Incans. My family shares a house there with three other families, so we all went and had a blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJcPk-q0xI/AAAAAAAAAJc/G2xD5MfpMb8/s1600-h/samaipata.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJcPk-q0xI/AAAAAAAAAJc/G2xD5MfpMb8/s200/samaipata.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247357938534372114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: On the way to Samaipata.. the beautiful Bolivian countryside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On normal weekends, everyone usually has their own agendas on Fridays and Saturdays. Then on Sundays we go to la quinta (our little farm) where we rest in hammocks, cook barbeque, and see my grandparents. There is also a pool there, but since it is "winter," it's not filled up yet. There are star fruit trees there, too, and it's awesome to be able to go pick and eat star fruit straight from the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJcPBOSV7I/AAAAAAAAAJU/q9wF8Z25xKA/s1600-h/laquinta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 198px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJcPBOSV7I/AAAAAAAAAJU/q9wF8Z25xKA/s200/laquinta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247357928936200114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: La quinta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; I really like my school here. All the kids in my culso (class) are really good friends with each other. In late November/early December we are going to take a promo (senior) trip to Camboriu and Foz de Iguazu in Brazil! It's a two-week trip, and I couldn't be more excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="Ih2E3d"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYgVVh9RI/AAAAAAAAAIk/cteKiiP4i8g/s1600-h/commonroadsideshop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYgVVh9RI/AAAAAAAAAIk/cteKiiP4i8g/s200/commonroadsideshop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247353828346557714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: A common sight: people selling goods along the street.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My school dress code is a school t-shirt and jeans or denim shorts that come past your knees. Several of the other schools have uniforms of short skirts and blouses, but not mine.&lt;br /&gt;Outside of my school, I am also taking lessons in Spanish and in Salsa! The Spanish lessons are provided by Rotary, and the Salsa classes are with a friend of the family. I have both classes 3 times a week, so I stay pretty busy.&lt;br /&gt;Everything here is really cheap. 7 bolivianos is about US$1. It's crazy to spend so many "100" bills here, but 100bs = US$14, which isn't much. Yet people still have trouble breaking their 100 bills, because a $14 bill is just &lt;i&gt;too&lt;/i&gt; big!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJcOxNHYvI/AAAAAAAAAJM/yxJ-SaR-4B0/s1600-h/hippiesinsamaipata.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 201px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJcOxNHYvI/AAAAAAAAAJM/yxJ-SaR-4B0/s200/hippiesinsamaipata.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247357924636320498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Hippies in Samaipata selling their goods. You can also see a pay phone in this picture. All the pay phones in Bolivia are disguised as different giant birds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of money, I haven't really bought much yet except for earrings. There are lots of "hippies" that can be found in the centers of the cities here, and they sell the most beautiful, cheap, handmade jewelry. I have one pair made of peacock feathers and vegetable ivory, which is from the nut of the tagua palm tree and has the same properties and looks as elephant tusk ivory.&lt;br /&gt;One of the craziest things I have encountered here so far was at a college fair at the Universidad Católica Boliviana. They had a section of the university set up for teaching us about their medical program, and to illustrate the kind of work they do, they had about 6 dead bodies lying out on tables. The flesh of the bodies had been ripped aside so we could view the tendons and such. Then, they gave us each a glove and had us feel the insides of the cadavers and told us about each organ as we felt it. I'm pretty sure this would violate some health codes in the States! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhjPLtZI/AAAAAAAAAJE/KSearTAN0pY/s1600-h/cadaver.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhjPLtZI/AAAAAAAAAJE/KSearTAN0pY/s200/cadaver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247353849257899410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: A cadaver whose insides I got to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;As you probably know, the political situation in Bolivia has been unstable for the past week or so. Santa Cruz has been trying for a long time to gain ¡Autonomía! (autonomy), and for the first time, the protests turned violent with tear gas, fireworks, fires in the streets, and road blocks. I have had a lot of canceled school because of this, and there was one day when my family had me stay inside all day, just to be safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; For the most part, though, as long as I continue to stay away from the fighting, I am perfectly safe. I feel comfortable and happy in my new country, and though I plan to stay alert to the situation, I have no intentions of going home at the moment. Tuesday night the prefects of the departments all signed a peace agreement. Hopefully this means that the fighting is going to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="Ih2E3d"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYg-z4xtI/AAAAAAAAAIs/TfdW3ilK0aU/s1600-h/autonomiapole.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYg-z4xtI/AAAAAAAAAIs/TfdW3ilK0aU/s200/autonomiapole.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247353839479736018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Every city in Bolivia that supports the Autonomía has an Autonomía pole in the center of their town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I am learning lots and having a blast! Feel free to ask me any questions, and I will try and answer them. (In response to previous questions, my dog's name is Gypsie.)&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's all I have to say right now!&lt;br /&gt;Chao, chao!&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-6363499480508288442?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/6363499480508288442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=6363499480508288442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/6363499480508288442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/6363499480508288442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2008/09/one-month.html' title='One Month!'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SNJYhqE15_I/AAAAAAAAAI8/id2phZDKr6c/s72-c/bigcactus2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-2798142922695575644</id><published>2008-08-22T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T20:13:52.145-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first week'/><title type='text'>My First Few Days In Bolivia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIQiubulYI/AAAAAAAAAHs/eFhmkVaCa8Q/s1600-h/preparing+to+leave.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 247px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIQiubulYI/AAAAAAAAAHs/eFhmkVaCa8Q/s320/preparing+to+leave.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238267505351234946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;¡Hola!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in Bolivia! I left Arkansas on Monday and arrived on Tuesday. The view out of the airplane windows as I flew through La Paz was one of the most magnificent sights I have ever seen. There was a thick layer of clouds with the tops of huge, snowcapped mountains protruding out of it. I flew through at dawn, so everything was lit with a gorgeous glow. The pictures I took don’t do it any justice. Even though I am staying in Santa Cruz (not La Paz), the minute I saw this beauty I thought, “Wow. This is going to be an amazing year.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Me and my family before take-off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I arrived at the Santa Cruz airport, my family was waiting for me. Everyone here greets each other with a quick kiss on or near the cheek. I kiss everyone!&lt;br /&gt;On the way home from the airport we ran into about a dozen roadblocks. Santa Cruz was having a “paro,” which is like a non-violent protest where everyone refuses to work or drive. In order to get past the blocks (which were created by the citizens from dirt or rocks or caution tape or Bolivian/Santa Cruz flags or tire scraps...) we had Santa Cruz flags all over the car. In some cases, though, we had to take different routes.&lt;br /&gt;There are 9 departments in Bolivia (kind of like states), and when they pay taxes all the money goes to the central government in La Paz. Almost all of this tax money comes from 5 departments, including Santa Cruz (where mostly “cambas” live). However, when the government gives this money out for projects and the like, 80% of it goes to the other 4 departments (where mostly “collas,” who are kind of like mountain people, live). Essentially, the 5 camba departments are protesting for the right to keep a certain percentage of their tax money to be used in their area. (Just like how in the U.S. the states each have some state tax money.) The Santa Cruz department is the biggest supporter of this protest for autonomy.&lt;br /&gt;My first night here I went to a dinner party at a house that my host mom designed. It is probably the nicest house I have ever been in! I met my mom’s 3 best friends… they call&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIUzjnGLRI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Zu5kRTbEuQM/s1600-h/my+room.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIUzjnGLRI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Zu5kRTbEuQM/s200/my+room.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238272192550415634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; themselves the women from Sex and the City.&lt;br /&gt;My school was changed to Colegio Espiritu Santo so that I could be where most of the other exchange students are going. School goes from 7:30-12:30 so it is very short. Two days a week, though, I have to go back in the afternoon from 2:15-6:30pm for more. The reason for this schedule is so that families can eat lunch together and observe siesta. Although I had heard about siesta before coming here, it still strikes me as odd that everyone sleeps in the middle of the day. However, my head is usually aching from all the Spanish, so it’s quite nice to have a nap.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                                                                          Above: My bedroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family is awesome! My host dad is always trying to explain difficult concepts to me in Spanish (like about the Autonomy). He also tells me lots of jokes, but I never get them because it takes me too long to figure out what he is talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My house is absolutely gorgeous! &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIUyl3yLEI/AAAAAAAAAH0/OF4p4PpY3a4/s1600-h/my+new+house+-+front.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIUyl3yLEI/AAAAAAAAAH0/OF4p4PpY3a4/s200/my+new+house+-+front.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238272175977409602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They have a brick wall surrounding the property and it's yard. It feels very outdoorsy because all the doors and windows are usually wide open and/or made of clear pane glass that huge and crystal clear. They even have an indoor garden, surrounded by the same glass. Half the time in the house I am unaware of whether I am actually inside or outside. The maids live in a separate little building in the back yard.&lt;br /&gt;On food… they have THE best juice here! Banana juice, grapefruit juice, orange juice, apple juice… all of it is fresh from the fruit and homemade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Above: Front of house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also serve tons of meat here. It is not uncommon to have 4 different meat dishes served at one meal. The most unique (to me) thing I have eaten is corazon de pollo, or chicken hearts. They're actually pretty good!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIUzA45BoI/AAAAAAAAAH8/iPf8gCsU8cY/s1600-h/my+new+house-+back.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 211px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIUzA45BoI/AAAAAAAAAH8/iPf8gCsU8cY/s200/my+new+house-+back.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238272183229810306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Downtown Bolivia is quite a sight! The traffic is terrible and nobody obeys traffic laws in the least. There is no sense of “lanes” or “turn signals” here! Often times you see poor people on the streets dressed in dirty clothes and begging for money. Sometimes you see collas too, who are dressed in big skirts and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;hats. Someone once told me that Santa Cruz is not so much a city as it is a large pueblo… and I believe this is true. There are no skyscrapers or malls or anything, but there are tons of dirty, crowded streets and small shops and street vendors with goods laid out on the ground for sale. It doesn’t sound luxurious, but it’s really amazing to see. Often times, I feel like I am walking around on a movie set.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above: Back of house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Spanish is far from good, but I am getting better everyday just by trying to listen and speak. Tomorrow I am going to Samaipata which is a small town with some sort of ancient ruins.&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone is doing well in los estados, and if you have any questions about my experiences, please feel free to ask and I will try to answer them in my next letter. I will also try and send some better pictures of the city.&lt;br /&gt;Chao,&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-2798142922695575644?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/2798142922695575644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=2798142922695575644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/2798142922695575644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/2798142922695575644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-first-few-days-in-bolivia.html' title='My First Few Days In Bolivia'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jOM5mZzzqKQ/SLIQiubulYI/AAAAAAAAAHs/eFhmkVaCa8Q/s72-c/preparing+to+leave.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567898546529403028.post-2932360184399067705</id><published>2008-07-15T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T21:10:19.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Preparing to Leave</title><content type='html'>Hi everybody!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This coming year I am going to Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia, to be an Ambassador and exchange student through the Rotary International Youth Exchange program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am leaving for Bolivia on August 18th!&lt;br /&gt;My flight will leave Fayetteville around noon and head to Dallas/Ft. Worth for a hefty 4 1/2 hour layover. Next, I'll go to Miami. After only 1 1/2 hours there, I will fly straight to the Santa Cruz Viru Viru International airport to meet my host family.&lt;br /&gt;When I arrive, 20 hours after my departure, it will be around 8:00AM on August 19th!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a population of about 1.5 million people, Santa Cruz de la Sierra is the largest city in Bolivia. It is located in the Santa Cruz department and is just a little bit southeast of the center of the country.&lt;br /&gt;The primary language spoken in Bolivia is Spanish, although many of the citizens are indigenous and speak Quechua and Aymara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first host parents are Pico Gutierrez and Chacho Antelo. I have one host brother, Luis Andres (21), who is studying graphics at Universidad Privada Santa Cruz de la Sierra (UPSA), a local college. I also have two host sisters, although neither of them will be there during my exchange. Alejandra (23) just graduated from the University of Richmond in Virginia and Mafer (15) will be on her own exchange in Front Royal, Virginia.&lt;br /&gt;I will also have a host dog, a Yorkshire terrier named Gypsie. Two maids, Elva and Juana, will live in the house with me as well. My host mom insists that they, too, are part of the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will attend high school at Colegio Isabel Saavedra.&lt;br /&gt;I have already graduated high school, so this is a "gap" year for me. When the year is over, I will return to the United States and begin my undergraduate education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck! My next letter will come from Bolivia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maija&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1567898546529403028-2932360184399067705?l=maija-bolivia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/feeds/2932360184399067705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1567898546529403028&amp;postID=2932360184399067705' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/2932360184399067705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1567898546529403028/posts/default/2932360184399067705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maija-bolivia.blogspot.com/2008/07/preparing-to-leave.html' title='Preparing to Leave'/><author><name>Maija Lauren Wallace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10807097635551976178</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GxMNL3tS6Ls/TmIss7Eu8qI/AAAAAAAAAgc/4wEtCcDbXGU/s220/IMG_0762.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
