Grinding my teeth

This afternoon I had the realization that with 6 weeks left it might be time to let live some of the provocative inconsistencies of my job for good. Perhaps related to a questionable rash I have contracted from the kids and might need an injection in my butt to fully heal. Blast. There always seems to be some reason that it is hard to get into a rhythm, family illnesses, vacations, internet boyfriends in town, change of employment, and sighting of big snakes…
Whatever it is, consistency is no virtue and it becomes all hogwash to preach to the choir somedays and throw cares to the wind the next 4 days. Most consistent in its inconsistency, this is a system that always allows excuses. Pleas are heard and pardoned- even the most vulgar. The result that I see is that the delivery of the message is nothing. Give each person’s word 50% likelihood and keep note of specific incidents of higher performance according to whether their word matches with their action. For mothers and adults this is a lost cause, it is how they’ve learned to communicate and treat their commitments, to live day to day. The reality being that because everyone abides by this system of “if it happens, it happens” that means it’s institutionalized in banks, bakeries and hell the governor has to relax expectations. Therein lies the brutal circle. I mean and I may bitch, but I’m no type A personality, friends. Failed promises create a slippery slope and an unreliable hogwash of a way to communicate and most pangs me with the kids.
And until those inconsistencies are smoothed out we will be left defining and re-defining the objectives of the kids program rather than setting a definition and growing the program.

On the flip side, my berating of this attitude toward commitments is overdone. As a task-oriented program organizer it makes me want to bash my head against a brick wall, but as a friend of my co-workers I see that this orientation towards family and loved ones is the most pardonable of offenses. Without question, people come through on their promises to care for another, celebrate and thank one another. No matter the circumstances it is hard to throw together a meeting last minute, but a party can be worked up in under an hour. I am consistently blown away by the thought and appreciation kids and their mothers express.

So, I’d say a graph summarizing my job would show irregular marks for productivity, but showing consistent and high for satisfaction. Long-term results? I'll get back to you on that later.

Speaking of satisfaction: I like hammocks and pretty flowers

Back to Bolivia

During the generous, month-long Christmas vacation I managed to sneak in a trip home to spend the holidays with family and still find time to travel parts of Bolivia before today, the 15th of January.

I was ready to travel to other parts of Bolivia to see mountains and see more of this large country. Plus, after living in the lowlands region which is distinct from its other culture home to llamas, quinoa, altiplano, indigeneity, and mountains more commonly associated with Bolivia as its indigenous culture constitutes a strong 80% majority.

The highlight of the trip was a 4 day jeep trip around the Salar de Uyuni- a.k.a. giant salt flats in Southwest Bolivia. Having not seen the 7 wonders of the world I still might dare to say that this could just be the 8th wonder. Mr. Peter Daniels and I were in good company with 5 Aussies and Patricio our Driver/Mechanic/Chef in our ’83 Land Cruiser. We managed to blow out two tires, see snow, desert, flamingos, llamas, pink lakes, green lakes, natural hot spring and lots of salt. Another highlight for me was that our talkative Aussie mates exploited Pete’s patient listening skills, finding him to be quite the attentive audience for tales of world travels, knowledge of Land Cruiser mechanics and stint with being phone tagged by the Aussie CIA equivalent over exclusive rights to US technology coveted by the Russian and Chinese governments.

The initial travel itinerary was adjusted due to transport complications because as it turns out-- political violence and blockades make it difficult to travel. Luckily, I travel lightly most usually without plans and much less reservations.

So, instead of staying the course the new plans became flip it and reverse it.

After finishing a tour of the giant salt flats in southwest Bolivia in an 83’ Land Cruiser with Mr. Peter Daniels and 5 Aussies, Pete and I scrambled to find a bus going in any direction AWAY from road blockades. We ended up with a ticket bringing us to a destination (Potosí) 2 hours from our desired destination (Sucre) and eventually found the last taxi leaving for Sucre. Luckily, this driver was willing to share his compact car with 3 large, jovial miners, me and Pete. Unfortunately, compact cars have 5 seats not six. And somehow, Pete and I found ourselves -for the first time- in a situation where we were smaller than Bolivians and therefore shoved into the front seat together; long-legged Daniels in the seat and me wedged between the Pete dashboard. This was only after I had to walk a block or so away from the taxi to avoid confrontations with the military police standing guard by the car, and then to later be picked up by the taxi on the other side of street where it WASN’T illegal to ride 6 in a compact car.

If it wasn’t for the 80’s love ballads cassette (2 times over) I don’t know what I would have done.

The next day we found a bus company to take us on our second 15 + hour bus ride back to Santa Cruz a hop, skip and a jump from my home in Montero. My seat happened to be beside an overweight man in a small gray polo that should have paid for half of my seat price as well as the entirety of his own. His lack of awareness for my personal space bubbles made me itchy and disgruntled and I didn’t much enjoy that the crumbs of his sandwich blew into my face as he ate it in the window’s breeze.

Somehow I wondered if I had really struck gold though when I discovered Pete would be sharing a seat with two girls and a turkey.

Anyone that previously doubted my "crazy, made-up story" about the Bolivian tradition of intoxicating a turkey pre-killing story before can ask Pete for the details.