It has been another good week here in Cochabamba, with the exception of an annoying flu that won't go away. This is mainly due to the fact that I haven't been getting quite enough sleep as this past week was also quite busy. That being said, my two actual attempts to get extra sleep over the weekend also failed horribly. My first attempt was to sleep in Saturday morning, which I discovered was not going to work at 8:15am, when I was already fully awake. My second attempt to get extra sleep involved going to bed at 9pm Saturday night. However, due to the combined factors of my room still being fairly hot at this time, and the neighbours two houses down having a party and playing their music ridiculously loud (there were a few times when I weighed the pros and cons of getting sleep vs. not going to jail in Bolivia for multiple homicide), I ended up falling asleep much closer to midnight. Oh well, maybe this week will be better to me sleep-wise.
I have continued reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to the boys at Nasareth on Tuesday nights. This is going well, and some of the boys who make up my growing audience are actually getting into the story and wanting to know what will happen next. I did sort of resort to "bribing" them with chocolate if they come to listen, which I felt was not only appropriate given the book we're reading, but it also gave me a slight advantage when competing with television. I do think however that there are a few kids who, were I to stop bringing chocolates, would probably come to listen anyway because they're enjoying the story, which makes me happy. That being said, I'm going to continue bribing them anyway, just to be safe. On a side note, if/when I ever have kids, they're not going to watch television, I've decided.
The main highlight of this week was Sunday. After the English service at Calama, I left to go to my old house, where there was a birthday party celebrating Lucas's 4th birthday. It was a lot of fun, the only downside being that Lucas was sick, and so he was neither feeling great nor could he talk that much as he had almost lost his voice. But he still seemed to have a good time, as did everyone else. After the party, I killed time downtown with two friends before going with them to Calama again, this time for the Portugese service. While we actually understood very little, and only stayed for the worship part of the service, it was still very good. The Portugese service is made up mostly of Brazilians, either studying or living here in Cochabamba. Their music is very lively and a little loud, with a large band and several singers. We may even go back to check them out again another Sunday, although I doubt that this will become a regular occurance for me simply due to the extra time commitment.
The other exciting news is that this coming Friday, I will be leaving Cochabamba with 5 friends to visit Macchu Picchu in Peru. Macchu Picchu is a famous site of Inca ruins, and I am really looking forward to this trip. Despite the 2 days each way we will be spending on buses/trains, and the high cost of this trip, I am really excited. We are due to get back to Cochabamba (assuming no transportation issues...remember this is South America) next Friday, April 11. This means that I will not be updating my blog next weekend, since I will not be able to do so.
Wishing everyone a wonderful week. See you (well, I'll update for you) in 2 weeks!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Knowing What It's Like
Last week was a busy, but good one for me. Wednesday was Father's Day here in Bolivia, and at Casa Nasareth we celebrated it with a special lunch, with all the "Dads" sitting at their own table. The really sweet thing was, I was one of the dads! After lunch, the kids sang some songs they had practiced for us, and then we each got a present (some chocolates). Throughout the afternoon, the boys were giving away cards, of which I got a few. It felt a little odd, sweet, happy, and sad (since I will eventually be leaving them) to have them consider me a dad, but overall I really enjoyed it.
Since on Wednesdays at CAT we got ou of the city, we celebrated Father's Day there on Thursday morning. I had picked up some ice cream, strawberry and chocolate sauce for them, so we celebrated the day with that. This was also fun, and the director gave a very brief speech to thank the dads—the doctor, Freddy, and myself—for our work. I also got plenty of thank-you's for the ice cream, which everyone enjoyed. The funniest moment was actually when we were handing out the bowls of ice cream, and Julia, an older woman (I think with Down Syndrome) who lives there, shouted out upon receiving her bowl, "But I want lots!"
Since Friday was a holiday, I took a day to rest up at home. However, close to 11am I got a call from the Dave I used to live with to let me know that Lucas, my soon-to-be 4-year-old Bolivian brother, had been taken to the hospital late Thurs night because he had stopped breathing. Since the hospital was only a 15-minute walk away, I left the house and met him there. Despite being worried for Lucas, by the time we arrived he was for the most part perfectly fine. In fact, the only problems at that point were a slight fever, and the fact that Lucas, who is incredibly active, was seemingly back to his normal self and not pleased at all about being confined to a bed. While the doctors weren't entirely sure about the fever, they discharged him from the hospital around 1pm, with instructions that if his status changed, she should let them know. Since I haven't heard anything since Friday, I'm assuming that he's doing fine now.
On Friday afternoon, I attended with Tyson a "Via Cruz", or "Stations of the Cross" as I believed it is called in English. It is a Catholic Good Friday tradition, in which you reflect on Jesus's journey to the cross, from his being condemned to death to his final crucifiction and resurrection. Here in Bolivia, you actually walk around the neighbourhood of the church, going from station (point in the journey) to station. At each stop, the priest says a few reflective words regarding the station, and then some prayers are said. For instance, at the station "Mary Weeps", the priest talked about the suffering of many mothers in Bolivia, and then prayed for Bolivian moms. The "Via Cruz" that I did was even cooler, since the youth of the church did a re-inactment. So instead of just walking from station to station, everyone quite literally followed "Jesus," complete with a real crown of thorns (placed very carefully on his head though), carrying a cross, escorted by Roman soldiers and followed by two thieves carrying their crosses, to each station. This gathered a lot of attention, and some people who just happened to be walking by ended up following along too. I really enjoyed this activity, and was glad that I had gone.
The other cool Easter-related thing I did was attend a sunrise service on Easter Sunday, this time put on by some of the evangelical/protestant churches of Cochabamba. It started North of the centre of town at around 5:30am, and then everyone paraded down Ayacucho, a major North-South street, to finally end in a colliseum, after sunrise, where a service was held. The mood was a happy one, with marching bands playing lively tunes along the way, and flags waving in the air. It was cool to see some different churches joining together for this event, and I also really apreciated it. After the service, I grabbed some breakfast with a few friends before we headed off to the service at Calama (the church I usually go to).
Despite being fairly busy over the weekend (I did more than attend those two services), I still had a fair bit of time to reflect on Easter. At Easter, Christians all over the world celebrate the death (and resurection) of Jesus, a man who claimed that he was God, incarnate in human flesh and who had come down to this world. And what I realized, relfecting on the Easter story, is that God is not immune to our suffering. We may not have any answers (at least easy ones) as to why there is so much pain in this world, but we do know this: that God is not immune to it. Christians do not believe in a God who sits on some throne in the clouds and and lists out rules to be followed and who has no clue as to what life in this world in really like. Christians believe in "God with us," a God who has come down to this world to partake in our life and share in our suffering. If I'm honest, Christ, like many people on this earth, suffered a lot more than I likely ever will. While this does not take our pains away, while it does not remove hunger from the stomachs of those without food, or the pains that children of abusive and alcoholic parents experience, it does perhaps help to know that God, quite literally in some ways, knows what's it like. As Gary Haugen puts it, "God doesn't glibly spiritualize the suffering of injustice, for he himself has endured it. He knows that the lash is real, that the fist hurts, that torture kills and that injustice can so brutalize our spirit as to make us feel forsaken by the heavenly Father." Or perhaps put more simply in a song by Downhere, "You came down to me, to know what it's like, to know what it's like to hurt."
I was reminded this past weekend of the words of John Stott, quoted by Haugen in his book Good News about Injustice. (Note: I mean no offense to anyone by posting this quote, nor do I believe that either Haugen or Stott intended it).
"I could never myself believe in a God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the One Nietzsche ridiculed as 'God on the cross.' In a real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered into our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our suffering became more manageable in light of his. There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we boldly stamp another mark, the cross which symbolizes divine suffering. 'The cross of Christ...is God's only self-justification in a world such as ours.'"
The cool thing about the Easter story, however, is that it does not end on Good Friday. On Easter Sunday, we celebrate that Christ was resurrected, brought back to life. This, is just as important as his death. Because if Christ had only died, had just suffered, then he would have only suffered and then died. And while we would know that God had suffered with us, we would not be left with any real hope of things getting better. But the apostles tell us in their writings that when Christ rose again, he defeated death and that it was no longer to be the end, the final word. Somehow, some way, because of not only Christ's death but because also of his resurrection, we have hope that one day things will be better. And while sometimes that beautiful day may seem unimaginably far away, we have been promised that it will eventually arrive. (We are even strongly encouraged—told, you might even say—to do our best to start bringing about that day right now. Although that is a topic for another post). One day, all suffering will end. In the meantime, we can cling to that hope while doing our best to anticipate it in our actions, and be certain that God knows what we're going through.
Since on Wednesdays at CAT we got ou of the city, we celebrated Father's Day there on Thursday morning. I had picked up some ice cream, strawberry and chocolate sauce for them, so we celebrated the day with that. This was also fun, and the director gave a very brief speech to thank the dads—the doctor, Freddy, and myself—for our work. I also got plenty of thank-you's for the ice cream, which everyone enjoyed. The funniest moment was actually when we were handing out the bowls of ice cream, and Julia, an older woman (I think with Down Syndrome) who lives there, shouted out upon receiving her bowl, "But I want lots!"
Since Friday was a holiday, I took a day to rest up at home. However, close to 11am I got a call from the Dave I used to live with to let me know that Lucas, my soon-to-be 4-year-old Bolivian brother, had been taken to the hospital late Thurs night because he had stopped breathing. Since the hospital was only a 15-minute walk away, I left the house and met him there. Despite being worried for Lucas, by the time we arrived he was for the most part perfectly fine. In fact, the only problems at that point were a slight fever, and the fact that Lucas, who is incredibly active, was seemingly back to his normal self and not pleased at all about being confined to a bed. While the doctors weren't entirely sure about the fever, they discharged him from the hospital around 1pm, with instructions that if his status changed, she should let them know. Since I haven't heard anything since Friday, I'm assuming that he's doing fine now.
On Friday afternoon, I attended with Tyson a "Via Cruz", or "Stations of the Cross" as I believed it is called in English. It is a Catholic Good Friday tradition, in which you reflect on Jesus's journey to the cross, from his being condemned to death to his final crucifiction and resurrection. Here in Bolivia, you actually walk around the neighbourhood of the church, going from station (point in the journey) to station. At each stop, the priest says a few reflective words regarding the station, and then some prayers are said. For instance, at the station "Mary Weeps", the priest talked about the suffering of many mothers in Bolivia, and then prayed for Bolivian moms. The "Via Cruz" that I did was even cooler, since the youth of the church did a re-inactment. So instead of just walking from station to station, everyone quite literally followed "Jesus," complete with a real crown of thorns (placed very carefully on his head though), carrying a cross, escorted by Roman soldiers and followed by two thieves carrying their crosses, to each station. This gathered a lot of attention, and some people who just happened to be walking by ended up following along too. I really enjoyed this activity, and was glad that I had gone.
The other cool Easter-related thing I did was attend a sunrise service on Easter Sunday, this time put on by some of the evangelical/protestant churches of Cochabamba. It started North of the centre of town at around 5:30am, and then everyone paraded down Ayacucho, a major North-South street, to finally end in a colliseum, after sunrise, where a service was held. The mood was a happy one, with marching bands playing lively tunes along the way, and flags waving in the air. It was cool to see some different churches joining together for this event, and I also really apreciated it. After the service, I grabbed some breakfast with a few friends before we headed off to the service at Calama (the church I usually go to).
Despite being fairly busy over the weekend (I did more than attend those two services), I still had a fair bit of time to reflect on Easter. At Easter, Christians all over the world celebrate the death (and resurection) of Jesus, a man who claimed that he was God, incarnate in human flesh and who had come down to this world. And what I realized, relfecting on the Easter story, is that God is not immune to our suffering. We may not have any answers (at least easy ones) as to why there is so much pain in this world, but we do know this: that God is not immune to it. Christians do not believe in a God who sits on some throne in the clouds and and lists out rules to be followed and who has no clue as to what life in this world in really like. Christians believe in "God with us," a God who has come down to this world to partake in our life and share in our suffering. If I'm honest, Christ, like many people on this earth, suffered a lot more than I likely ever will. While this does not take our pains away, while it does not remove hunger from the stomachs of those without food, or the pains that children of abusive and alcoholic parents experience, it does perhaps help to know that God, quite literally in some ways, knows what's it like. As Gary Haugen puts it, "God doesn't glibly spiritualize the suffering of injustice, for he himself has endured it. He knows that the lash is real, that the fist hurts, that torture kills and that injustice can so brutalize our spirit as to make us feel forsaken by the heavenly Father." Or perhaps put more simply in a song by Downhere, "You came down to me, to know what it's like, to know what it's like to hurt."
I was reminded this past weekend of the words of John Stott, quoted by Haugen in his book Good News about Injustice. (Note: I mean no offense to anyone by posting this quote, nor do I believe that either Haugen or Stott intended it).
"I could never myself believe in a God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the One Nietzsche ridiculed as 'God on the cross.' In a real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered into our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our suffering became more manageable in light of his. There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we boldly stamp another mark, the cross which symbolizes divine suffering. 'The cross of Christ...is God's only self-justification in a world such as ours.'"
The cool thing about the Easter story, however, is that it does not end on Good Friday. On Easter Sunday, we celebrate that Christ was resurrected, brought back to life. This, is just as important as his death. Because if Christ had only died, had just suffered, then he would have only suffered and then died. And while we would know that God had suffered with us, we would not be left with any real hope of things getting better. But the apostles tell us in their writings that when Christ rose again, he defeated death and that it was no longer to be the end, the final word. Somehow, some way, because of not only Christ's death but because also of his resurrection, we have hope that one day things will be better. And while sometimes that beautiful day may seem unimaginably far away, we have been promised that it will eventually arrive. (We are even strongly encouraged—told, you might even say—to do our best to start bringing about that day right now. Although that is a topic for another post). One day, all suffering will end. In the meantime, we can cling to that hope while doing our best to anticipate it in our actions, and be certain that God knows what we're going through.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Painted Hands Wave Goodbye
This past week didn't get off to the best start, as I was home sick both all day Monday and Tuesday morning. It was nothing terribly serious, just an annoying flu. It is now for the most part gone, although I still have a bit of a cough, so I'm slowly getting over it.
Wednesday morning we took the kids from CAT out of the city again. Usually we go to this place out of town and do different activities with them, but this week was a little different. Instead of going to the place we usually go, we took them to a school where they did different activities with some of the kids from that school. Since there really isn't the same level of exposure to disabilities here, I think it was really good for both our kids, and the ones from the school we visited. Each child got paired up with one or two kids from the school, and we spent the morning doing different activities. Both the kids from the school and from CAT had a good time and enjoyed themselves. It was a fun morning for all, and everyone agreed that it was a success.
On Wednesday evening, I ended up returning to CAT at around 5:45. This was because I was there to make a goodbye card for Isabel, the other volunteer who has been there since September, and left early Friday morning to return home to Germany. The kids who were able to write wrote a message for her on the card, and for those who couldn't we painted their hand and they made a hand print on the card. We did the same thing for the babies, only we did a foot print instead. Below each print, I wrote the child's name. On Thursday morning, the two directors printed off a small picture of each child, and we glued those on beside or on top of part of each print. All of the staff also signed the card. Under the guise of taking one of the kids to the dentist, I slipped out and we picked up a cake for the occasion. Freddy even played the guitar, and a few of the kids sang some songs that they had been learning with him. Isabel was genuinely surprised about the goodbye party, and was really pleased with the card. She was very sad to be leaving though, and wasn't happy about having to say goodbye to everyone. She really, really hopes to be able to come back some time, preferably soon. It was also sad for me to say goodbye to her, as I have enjoyed hanging out and doing different things with the kids with her.
The goodbye party was also for one of the boys at CAT, who left on Friday morning. He is going on to a different home now, that will be much smaller and more family-like. He really only has a slight learning disability, I believe, so this new home will be better for him, but it was still sad to see him go. He will still see a few of the other kids nearly every day though, since he will continue attending the same school.
Today, Tyson and Carolina took me out for lunch to celebrate my birthday. We were supposed to go last weekend on Saturday, but because of the boys' baseball game on Sautrday afternoon I had to cancel on them. We went to a restaurant called Puetro Madero, an all-you-can-eat restaurant here known for it's pasta, made fresh daily, and it's seafood, delivered fresh daily. I ate quite a fair bit, including three different seafood dishes. Since Bolivia doesn't have access to the ocean, you can't really get much seafood here (and I probably wouldn't eat it for safety purposes at most places anyway). I was very appreciative of this meal out, enjoying both my time with Tyson and Carolina and their kids, and the food. Below is a picture of us at the restaurant.
From left to right: Tyson, Soraya, Nehemiah, Me, Zion, Carolina
Wednesday morning we took the kids from CAT out of the city again. Usually we go to this place out of town and do different activities with them, but this week was a little different. Instead of going to the place we usually go, we took them to a school where they did different activities with some of the kids from that school. Since there really isn't the same level of exposure to disabilities here, I think it was really good for both our kids, and the ones from the school we visited. Each child got paired up with one or two kids from the school, and we spent the morning doing different activities. Both the kids from the school and from CAT had a good time and enjoyed themselves. It was a fun morning for all, and everyone agreed that it was a success.
On Wednesday evening, I ended up returning to CAT at around 5:45. This was because I was there to make a goodbye card for Isabel, the other volunteer who has been there since September, and left early Friday morning to return home to Germany. The kids who were able to write wrote a message for her on the card, and for those who couldn't we painted their hand and they made a hand print on the card. We did the same thing for the babies, only we did a foot print instead. Below each print, I wrote the child's name. On Thursday morning, the two directors printed off a small picture of each child, and we glued those on beside or on top of part of each print. All of the staff also signed the card. Under the guise of taking one of the kids to the dentist, I slipped out and we picked up a cake for the occasion. Freddy even played the guitar, and a few of the kids sang some songs that they had been learning with him. Isabel was genuinely surprised about the goodbye party, and was really pleased with the card. She was very sad to be leaving though, and wasn't happy about having to say goodbye to everyone. She really, really hopes to be able to come back some time, preferably soon. It was also sad for me to say goodbye to her, as I have enjoyed hanging out and doing different things with the kids with her.
The goodbye party was also for one of the boys at CAT, who left on Friday morning. He is going on to a different home now, that will be much smaller and more family-like. He really only has a slight learning disability, I believe, so this new home will be better for him, but it was still sad to see him go. He will still see a few of the other kids nearly every day though, since he will continue attending the same school.
Today, Tyson and Carolina took me out for lunch to celebrate my birthday. We were supposed to go last weekend on Saturday, but because of the boys' baseball game on Sautrday afternoon I had to cancel on them. We went to a restaurant called Puetro Madero, an all-you-can-eat restaurant here known for it's pasta, made fresh daily, and it's seafood, delivered fresh daily. I ate quite a fair bit, including three different seafood dishes. Since Bolivia doesn't have access to the ocean, you can't really get much seafood here (and I probably wouldn't eat it for safety purposes at most places anyway). I was very appreciative of this meal out, enjoying both my time with Tyson and Carolina and their kids, and the food. Below is a picture of us at the restaurant.
From left to right: Tyson, Soraya, Nehemiah, Me, Zion, CarolinaAlso, I was able to upload pictures of the house this week. Below are two pictures of my room, followed by one of the wonderfully big kitchen I get to cook in.
Update Tuesday March 18: Below is a picture from last Saturday when I celebrated my birthday with the boys at Casa Nasareth.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
A Year Older
I turned 22 years old this past Friday. It was a little odd to celebrate my birthday here, and not at home with my family, but I still had a good day. My house-warming party ended up happening this past Friday, so it was sort of a party for both. Since I hadn't really mentioned to everyone that it was my birthday, some were surprised to find out that it was, but wished me a happy birthday just the same. And although there weren't any birthday candles, Boris stuck a match in my piece of carrot cake and everyone sang happy birthday (I had to blow out the match first though, since they burn faster than candles). Sadly I don't have any pictures of the event, since no one remembered to bring a camara and I hadn't recharged the batteries in mine, but that's okay.
On Saturday, I went to Nasareth for lunch, since I had to be there in the afternoon anyway, and they celebrated my birthday there, which was fun. They even got me some presents, which I thought was really cool. One of them was some fruit called "Dragon's Eye", which lots sort of like a strawberry only it has these hair/tentacle-like things coming out of it. I'm sure that makes it sound much grosser than it actually looks (it doesn't actually look gross), but that's the best description I have for it. I'll have to update you next week on how it tastes, since I haven't tried it yet.
The reason that I went to Nasareth yesterday was because the youngest boys had a baseball game on Saturday afternoon. I am, strangely enough, their assistant coach, with my Bolivian friend Julio being their actual coach. We spent all week training the boys, some of whom had never even thrown a baseball, and it definitely paid off. Over the week, all the boys improved significantly, which was really exciting for me and Julio, and gave Sister Mary-Catherine a pleasant surprise. I may not go to all of the boys' games, but I thought that I should go to yesterday's since it was their first. It was a fun afternoon, and I was glad that I went along.
The only thing I started doing this week is reading to boys. Once a week, I got back to Nasareth for 7pm, and read a story to whoever is interested in listening. Since I was competing with the TV I only got 5 kids last week, but it was still good. I'm reading Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, or "Charlie y la Fábrica de Chocolate" as it's entitled in Spanish, to them, and they seem to be enjoying it.
Things are also going well at CAT. On Friday, I made pancakes for all the kids and staff, complete with white chocolate and banana. Everyone told me that they were very delicious, and the kids asked when I was going to make them again. The staff also told me that I had to make them again, since they wanted to learn how to make them themselves. I told them that they're very easy, and promised to translate the recipe into Spanish for them, though I think I'll still have to make them again, which doesn't bother me. The only thing I'll do different next time is start earlier. I arrived at CAT late on Friday, which wasn't a good start since I had 30-plus pancakes to make and 2 frying pans in which to make them. I did get a good system going though, so I was quite efficient.
I am still enjoying my new house, a cooking my meals. That being said, I haven't actually cooked very many different meals since moving in. This is because I utterly suck at cooking for just 1 person, so I always end up cooking more then necessary. However, since I have no issues with leftovers this hasn't been a problem.
I was hoping to upload a few pictures of the new house for you all, but unfortunately it's not working right now, so perhaps I'll be able to do so later this week.
On Saturday, I went to Nasareth for lunch, since I had to be there in the afternoon anyway, and they celebrated my birthday there, which was fun. They even got me some presents, which I thought was really cool. One of them was some fruit called "Dragon's Eye", which lots sort of like a strawberry only it has these hair/tentacle-like things coming out of it. I'm sure that makes it sound much grosser than it actually looks (it doesn't actually look gross), but that's the best description I have for it. I'll have to update you next week on how it tastes, since I haven't tried it yet.
The reason that I went to Nasareth yesterday was because the youngest boys had a baseball game on Saturday afternoon. I am, strangely enough, their assistant coach, with my Bolivian friend Julio being their actual coach. We spent all week training the boys, some of whom had never even thrown a baseball, and it definitely paid off. Over the week, all the boys improved significantly, which was really exciting for me and Julio, and gave Sister Mary-Catherine a pleasant surprise. I may not go to all of the boys' games, but I thought that I should go to yesterday's since it was their first. It was a fun afternoon, and I was glad that I went along.
The only thing I started doing this week is reading to boys. Once a week, I got back to Nasareth for 7pm, and read a story to whoever is interested in listening. Since I was competing with the TV I only got 5 kids last week, but it was still good. I'm reading Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, or "Charlie y la Fábrica de Chocolate" as it's entitled in Spanish, to them, and they seem to be enjoying it.
Things are also going well at CAT. On Friday, I made pancakes for all the kids and staff, complete with white chocolate and banana. Everyone told me that they were very delicious, and the kids asked when I was going to make them again. The staff also told me that I had to make them again, since they wanted to learn how to make them themselves. I told them that they're very easy, and promised to translate the recipe into Spanish for them, though I think I'll still have to make them again, which doesn't bother me. The only thing I'll do different next time is start earlier. I arrived at CAT late on Friday, which wasn't a good start since I had 30-plus pancakes to make and 2 frying pans in which to make them. I did get a good system going though, so I was quite efficient.
I am still enjoying my new house, a cooking my meals. That being said, I haven't actually cooked very many different meals since moving in. This is because I utterly suck at cooking for just 1 person, so I always end up cooking more then necessary. However, since I have no issues with leftovers this hasn't been a problem.
I was hoping to upload a few pictures of the new house for you all, but unfortunately it's not working right now, so perhaps I'll be able to do so later this week.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Brief Moments of Childhood
This has once again been a good week, complete with a move to a new home. Because I had been looking forward to moving, it was actually a little harder to say goodbye to my Bolivian family than I was expecting. Epecially to Lucas, the 3-year old of the house. Nevertheless, my move went well, and I spent most of Friday afternoon/Saturday getting moved in. I am now fully unpacked and happily installed, and have been enjoying my first 2 days of cooking my own meals (Friday night I ate out with some friends, so I didn't cook on Friday). Next week I'll ty to upload a few pictures of the new place.
On Thursday Izzy and I took 3 of the kids from CAT out for salteñas, which was a lot of fun, and absolutely hilarious too! Mario, one of the boys who we took with us, was really funny, though without trying to be. We took the bus down to El Prado, and as we were getting off the bus an older man who was getting on greeted Mario jokingly by saying "Hello, grandma." To which Mario promptly responded, "I'm not a grandma, I'm Spiderman." This of course had myself, the old man, and the bus driver all laughing. He then started talking to the bus driver really briefly, and I don't know what he said (because I was still laughing about the Spiderman comment), but it resulted in the driver giving him 50 cents to buy some candy for himself! The funniest part was that because Mario is still quite young, he was the only one of us who didn't have to pay to use the bus! Mario is actually a rather cute kid, which we think may have been what encouraged the driver to give him some money.
Then at the salteña restaurant, when all of us except Izzy (who had ordered a vegetarian salteña which takes longer to prepare), got our salteñas, Mario preceeded to yell out, "There's one missing! There's one missing!" We had to quickly explain to him that it was okay, that they knew they needed to serve one more, but that it just wasn't ready yet. Then, after finishing eating, Mario got up from the table, took his plate, went over and handed it to the waitress. When he got back to the table, he did the same thing with his glass! We're pretty sure he's just never been to a restaurant, and since after eating at CAT they walk their dishes over to the kitchen, this was what he did in the restaurant. When we were ready to leave, Izzy and I asked him to go request the bill. When he returned to the table with not the bill but a candy in hand, we asked him what happened, and he said "I asked for a candy." At this point I just laughed so hard I cried. I explained to Izzy, who is from Germany, the meaning of the phrase in English, "dress him up, don't take him anywhere," which she agreed applied to Mario.
When we got on the bus to go home, there was only one seat availble, so a man on the bus said that Mario could sit on his lap. Which he did, and the two of them had a conversation all the way home. Izzy and I tried not to laugh too much, because we didn't want to man to think that we were laughing at him.
Saturday night, while walking in one of the plazas with my friend Madeline, we saw something that made me both happy and very sad at the same time. A group of about 6 shoeshine boys, probably all homeless and the oldest likely no older than 13, had made some paper boats and were floating them in the plaza's pond. While it was nice to see them smiling and having a brief moment fun, it also reminded me that they are just kids, and that smiling and having fun is what they should be doing most of the time, not just for too-brief moments here and there. But they don't get to smile and have fun, they don't get to have a childhood, because if they don't work all day long, walking up and down the streets hoping to shine someone's shoes, then they don't get to eat. And sadly, eating trumps having a childhood. Granted, I suppose they're "better off" (whatever that means) working all day and having a little food to eat, than they would be playing and being hungry, but that doesn't make it fair. It's not just, it's not right, that they can't both eat, and be children.
On Thursday Izzy and I took 3 of the kids from CAT out for salteñas, which was a lot of fun, and absolutely hilarious too! Mario, one of the boys who we took with us, was really funny, though without trying to be. We took the bus down to El Prado, and as we were getting off the bus an older man who was getting on greeted Mario jokingly by saying "Hello, grandma." To which Mario promptly responded, "I'm not a grandma, I'm Spiderman." This of course had myself, the old man, and the bus driver all laughing. He then started talking to the bus driver really briefly, and I don't know what he said (because I was still laughing about the Spiderman comment), but it resulted in the driver giving him 50 cents to buy some candy for himself! The funniest part was that because Mario is still quite young, he was the only one of us who didn't have to pay to use the bus! Mario is actually a rather cute kid, which we think may have been what encouraged the driver to give him some money.
Then at the salteña restaurant, when all of us except Izzy (who had ordered a vegetarian salteña which takes longer to prepare), got our salteñas, Mario preceeded to yell out, "There's one missing! There's one missing!" We had to quickly explain to him that it was okay, that they knew they needed to serve one more, but that it just wasn't ready yet. Then, after finishing eating, Mario got up from the table, took his plate, went over and handed it to the waitress. When he got back to the table, he did the same thing with his glass! We're pretty sure he's just never been to a restaurant, and since after eating at CAT they walk their dishes over to the kitchen, this was what he did in the restaurant. When we were ready to leave, Izzy and I asked him to go request the bill. When he returned to the table with not the bill but a candy in hand, we asked him what happened, and he said "I asked for a candy." At this point I just laughed so hard I cried. I explained to Izzy, who is from Germany, the meaning of the phrase in English, "dress him up, don't take him anywhere," which she agreed applied to Mario.
When we got on the bus to go home, there was only one seat availble, so a man on the bus said that Mario could sit on his lap. Which he did, and the two of them had a conversation all the way home. Izzy and I tried not to laugh too much, because we didn't want to man to think that we were laughing at him.
Saturday night, while walking in one of the plazas with my friend Madeline, we saw something that made me both happy and very sad at the same time. A group of about 6 shoeshine boys, probably all homeless and the oldest likely no older than 13, had made some paper boats and were floating them in the plaza's pond. While it was nice to see them smiling and having a brief moment fun, it also reminded me that they are just kids, and that smiling and having fun is what they should be doing most of the time, not just for too-brief moments here and there. But they don't get to smile and have fun, they don't get to have a childhood, because if they don't work all day long, walking up and down the streets hoping to shine someone's shoes, then they don't get to eat. And sadly, eating trumps having a childhood. Granted, I suppose they're "better off" (whatever that means) working all day and having a little food to eat, than they would be playing and being hungry, but that doesn't make it fair. It's not just, it's not right, that they can't both eat, and be children.
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