Did You Know You Can Wash Cheese?

Samaipata is finally beginning to feel like home. Or maybe I shouldn’t say “finally,” since I’ve only been in site not even two months yet. When I walk down the street people actually look at me and say hi, fewer taxi drivers whistle and yell at me from their cabs, and I run into people I know everywhere I go.

I am still in the “diagnostic” stage of my service. It is the first three months in site, where I am to lay back and work less, sit around and drink cokes more. My job is to get to know the community, create friendships, and build trust. It is harder than you think. It’s very strange to just go up to people you don’t know and pretty much thrust yourself into their lives.

Samaipata is a very touristy community. The locals are so used to seeing Europeans and a few North American tourists so they do not really care when a new face shows up in town. It was especially confusing for me. I am used to the usual “chinita” questions, but then I got to Samaipata and suddenly everyone thinks I’m Japanese. Turns out there is a Japanese family in town that has an organic foods business and from them, people learned to link an Asian face to Japanese origins. It’s actually pretty interesting. There’s a town not too far from here that is named Okinawa and is full of Japanese immigrants. I asked around and they said that after the Nagasaki and Hiroshima debacles, Bolivia offered assistance to the Japanese and gave them some money to come settle in Bolivia. But I digress…

I’m here and I’m Japanese and suddenly I’m something like, “HICA!!” as well. I was asked if I was “hica” all the time, and for the life of me I did not ever remember learning this word. The first few times I’d just nod and smile, and try to remember to go home and look up the word in the dictionary. Finally I ask someone what the heck they are talking about when they say “hica,” and I find that not only is it confusing enough that I am a Vietnamese-born American living in Bolivia and working for the U.S. government, but in the tiny town of Samaipata, population 4000, there is actually a Japanese equivalent of the Peace Corps who happens to have volunteers coming in the very near future. No wonder we’re all confused.

Continuing with the integration process, I have found that we have a mini-supermarket here in Samaipata. A French bakery just opened last week. German and Dutch owned restaurants, tourist services, hostals, and hotels can be found everywhere you look. A person can go without speaking Spanish at all around here. English is universal and everyone wants me to teach it to them. Apparently a new resort/hotel just opened up on the hill about a month ago, and the best description anyone can come up with for it is that it’s the “Disneyland of Samaipata.” I just trekked out there and they have horse-drawn carriages and a petting zoo with emus and llamas. It’s hilarious.

Though I can go weeks without uttering a word of Spanish, I really am trying to integrate. I think that I now have hard evidence that I am succeeding. To begin, I will give a little background explanation of the situation here in Bolivia. La Paz is the current capital of Bolivia. People from La Paz and the majority of the western region are known as “Collas.” I live in the department (or state) of Santa Cruz in the eastern part of the country where people are known as “Cambas.” These two groups, the Collas and Cambas, generally do not have good things to say about each other. The current government has been accused of worsening relationships between the two groups and you will hear incredibly racist things being thrown out from both groups. It is called racism because for the most part, Collas are of indigenous (poor) decent and Cambas are of Spanish (rich) decent, although now the lines are much more blurred and this is an overly simplified explanation. One of the Bolivians I talked to told me that hate generates hate, and many times people are raised to hate a certain group long after they have forgotten the reason for the hate. This is not just unique to Bolivia, huh?

At any rate, I have a friend here from La Paz who speaks English pretty much as well as I speak Spanish. He just moved here as well and since he loves to practice his English, after the first few weeks of me speaking Spanish and he speaking English, I got too confused and we go to the point where we’d just converse in English. The other day this guy realizes that I have not been speaking to him in Spanish at all and decides that we must revert back to Spanish so that I can practice more. I oblige and begin speaking in Spanish and look up to see a horrified look on his face. “What happened to you!” he asks me, “You have a CAMBA accent!” He is mortified and I am ecstatic that I have integrated to the point that I now speak with a Camba accent. Cambas basically speak a version of Spanish where they enunciate very poorly and never pronounce the “s” except at the beginning of the word. So something like, “La cosa es que él no quiere” becomes “la coa e que él no quiere, puej” because they leave out all “s” ’s and they add “puej” (pues) to the end of all phrases.

If you don’t have a clear of understanding of what this Spanish sounds like, take a sock, stuff it in your mouth, and speak. During training someone coined this accent “sock-in-the-mouth” Spanish and it’s rather accurate. The muddled sounds only gets worse the farther you go in the rural areas. But like I said, I’m integrating and it made my day when I realized I could understand every word of this sock-in-the-mouth Spanish. And not only that, I could speak it as well!!!

(My buddy was not so excited. He spent an entire night of trying to get me pronounce words “correctly.”)

All I Want for Christmas... is YOU!

But since I am supossed to spend Christmas in site, here is my Christmas wish list. Please take a look and save yourself the time and hassle of shipping me anything!

http://editor.ne16.com/he/vo.asp?FileID=131178&MemberID=90541210&MailID=3611223

I have a dog. His name is Timmy.

Life is hard to understand. As I venture out of the cozy hole I’ve been hiding in all my life, it becomes even more difficult to make sense of things that go on. Do you ever wonder why you believe the things you do? Why we follow certain traditions and rituals without ever questioning the reasoning behind them?

Ever wonder why we celebrate Thanksgiving?

Last week the Peace Corps volunteers from the Santa Cruz department got together to celebrate Thanksgiving. I was to be gone for a few days and told my counterparts that I would be out for the holiday. And they asked me to explain what exactly we were celebrating. Now in the context of being a Peace Corps volunteer in Bolivia, where the first indigenous president ever is currently in office, where all our projects center around empowering the indigenous community, in preserving their lands, honoring their traditions, learning their languages, and developing a feeling of solidarity- imagine the contradiction it was to tell them that Thanksgiving celebrates the first toast between the Pilgrims and Indians, the first gesture of friendship right before the white man proceeded to take away all their land and put them all on reservations. The celebration of the beginning of the end for the indigenous in North America. With that in mind, did I really even want to celebrate this notion of Thanksgiving? Is there even a politically correct way of explaining this to my indigenous friends here?

Add it to the list of contradictions that I now call life. I did in the end celebrate Thanksgiving, but it is interesting even with all the tumultuous feelings that result, that I have the awareness now to even think the thoughts that I do. It is refreshing to know that I have at least taken one step out of my idyllic existence to attempt to understand the realities of our world.

A peek at my Thanksgiving… It was a pool party in 100 degree weather with a buffet that did include turkey for dinner. It does not feel like the holidays, but if I can’t be with family and friends, I guess this will do.

On a completely different note, I just read an amazing book called “Whispering in the Giant’s Ear” by William Powers. On a scale of 1-5, it is a 6 as far as how highly I recommend it. Published in 2006, it is an easy read written in a style much like my blog. It explains the challenges and struggles facing the currently country- political problems, indigenous rights, fights against globalization, East vs. West, rich vs. poor, etc etc. It’s a great summary of everything going on. The author actually lived here in Samaipata for awhile and it does talk a little of my site, (though not too positively, so please don’t get scared), as well as the nature conservation projects very similar to what I am working on. If you’d at all like to understand my life here, please read this book!

In related news, the constitution of Bolivia is being rewritten. The former deadline has already passed and the new deadline is by the end of the year. One of the major issues to be decided upon is whether the capital will remain in La Paz or if it will move to Sucre. As such, there have been protests (relatively non-violent) in Sucre and Peace Corps was put on alert. Yesterday there was a country wide strike where everyone shut down. You will have to look for the nitty gritty details online but out in Sucre tear gas was invoked after tires were burned and dogs were beheaded. But let me reiterate (Dad)… I AM COMPLETELY SAFE!!!

New Number, New Address

Hi All,

My phone number has changed. You may now dial 011-591-726-89477.

New Address:

Tammy Truong
Cuerpo de Paz
Casilla 3998
Santa Cruz, Bolivia
Sud America

Just a reminder... All packages MUST be under 4 lbs to pass customs without me paying more on my end, regardless of how much it costs to send. If you send it in a padded envelope customs will let it go, if it is in a box they will open no matter what size and it takes longer. On average, mail takes 2-3 wks to get here so you may start sending Christmas cards and packages now!!! ;)

Lessons From the Marketplace

“Expect the Unexpected.” What? No, I don’t know how to do that. “Have no expectations.” I don’t know how to do that either. It’s so funny, how you take things for granted and don’t realize that you have a set level of expectations about things. I remember during my staging event in DC, before I came to Bolivia, and they asked us what the most important thing to integration within a new culture would be. The options were something like Communication, Acceptance by the new community, Understanding the new culture, and Understanding your own culture. I don’t know which you picked, but I did not pick the right answer- understanding your own culture. I am now starting to get a better grasp of what it is. I did grow up in a mix of cultures- Vietnamese and American- but I am finding that there are many things about me that are strictly American.

Let’s return to the expectations topic. It’s reasonable I think, to expect that when you buy a three-piece speaker set that all three pieces will work, right? Or that if you buy a brand new phone, after running around for a week because every single shop is closed for the holiday, and then for the weekend, and then because they don’t feel like opening yet, that you could expect the charger to work, right? Or that when you sit down at a restaurant and open the menu, the things listed would be available. Or at the very least, you could get your second choice. But no, I’m not talking third choice either; it falls to the fourth or fifth choice. Which is equal to saying that of what is on the menu, really only two items are available and they are just waiting until you decide you want one of the two.

Other expectations: I guess I never really thought about it, but I thought I knew food. For example, we all know what a zucchini is, right? I thought I did. I went to the market the other day after a week of not enough sleep, an overnight bus ride of 12 hrs, and then another 3 hr ride to my site. All I wanted was a little fruit, and maybe a little food to make a quick stir-fry. I decide to hit the market and at the first stand I see when I enter, the lady immediately pegs me as a tourist. She starts offering food, and pretty much anything she offered I bought. Onions? Yes. Garlic? Sure. It went on for awhile and she’s laughing at me because I had taken Dramamine and didn’t really know what was going on. I explain to her that I just moved in that day and I was tired and couldn’t think straight, so I really appreciated all her help. She continues to offer me things and I continue to buy, up until she offers me a zucchini. And I look at her like she’s crazy and I’m like, “You have no zucchini here.” And she says, “Yes I do, here you go.” I look at what she hands me and I’m like, “I’m sorry, you handed me a squash.” “No, it’s zucchini.” “No…this is a SQUASH!” “No, it’s ZUCCHINI!” At this point I take a moment to inspect this thing I’m holding. If you added a little green, instead of the pale beige, and shrunk it by about half its size, then yes, I could imagine a zucchini. So I say, “Thanks! I love zucchini!”

Then I move to the next stand and look for a watermelon. I ask if the lady has watermelon and she looks at me strangely and points to a huge stack right in front of me of what looks exactly like honeydew, and says to me, “It’s right there.”

Then today I decide that I want to make some fresh lemonade. But Vietnamese make their lemonade from limes. So you would believe it, I go and ask for some lemons, not knowing the word for limes. I find that the limes look like lemons, lemons look like oranges, and oranges are actually mandarins. So if I want to buy a lime, it’s a “lima.” Or so I thought. I was so excited to make my limade and I go and squeeze all my limes, add sugar and water, and what I tasted when I was finished was a very bland orange juice.

There are many other things I am learning about my culture. We love gadgets. How do you make toast without a toaster? How do you reheat food with no microwave? I was pretty much resigned to eating fried rice the day after making rice, cause when I tried to heat it up in a pan, it turned into fried rice. It’s not like I’m a spoiled American (I don’t think), it’s just that I’ve never lived without a microwave! I sat totally perplexed for the entire day, wondering how I would ever heat up left-overs or if I would just have to learn to cook perfect portions. Fortunately, my mom calls that night and I start asking her the most ridiculous questions. Whilst laughing at me, she explains to me how to heat up food, how to make toaster, how to get rid of ants without repellent, and a host of other issues. Of course she has the answers, she grew up in Vietnam! How wonderful for me to have such a resource! Now I do not have to eat fried rice every day of my life!!!

Another point to contemplate- Do Americans realize how much we differentiate between products? How many types of toilet paper, toothpaste, shampoo, etc can exist? I didn’t realize I had been so desensitized to this aspect of life until the market. The market teaches me many things. You probably don’t want to hear about them all, but for my own amusement I will tell you about buying milk. You can then substitute milk with hand soap, or even clothes hangers and you will see how I myself make my life too difficult. All cause of this product differentiation that I never thought twice about.

The other day, I was in the market and needed milk. In the U.S. I am a skim milk drinker. I ask for milk and was handed whole milk. I ask, (because I have to ask, at least the first time) if perhaps, maybe, by chance there might be anything other than whole milk. So I ask the lady if she has milk with less fat. I’m not asking for skim, 2% or 1% would do. She looks at me smiling and says, “Yes, I have another milk.” And proceeds to hand me another bag of whole milk, albeit a different brand. I look at it and think, “This is whole milk as well.” At this point I am resigned to buying whole milk, and I look at the lady and say thanks and pay for the bag. I then proceed to another convenience store where I buy chocolate whole milk, because if I can’t have skim, I might as well make sure it tastes good!

P.S. If you haven’t tried whole milk in awhile, I recommend it. It’s actually quite delicious, especially heated up and with a bit of sugar added. Tastes just like the condensed milk mixed with hot water I used to drink as a kid when I watched my dad drink condensed milk with his coffee. But being too young for coffee, I got water instead. Oh, the memories Bolivia can bring back. And the new set of experiences that you never though you’d like, you now love.
I now also eat avocado, onions, and for a moment actually considered going vegetarian. It’s not hard when the meat you can buy comes with heads and livers intact, and they hang in the hot sun at the market. Yum.

Q: What does a Bolivian do when he has a three-prong plug and a two-prong outlet?

A: Grab the pliers and yank that pesky third prong out!!


Break out the noisemakers and party hats! As of Nov 1, 2007, I am an official Peace Corps Volunteer! Let the 24 month countdown begin! (That´s me at swear-in with the beloved Ambassador of the US.)

I still can’t decide if two years is a long time. Sometimes I look at it and think, “Two years is sophomore year in college. It wasn’t enough time to know anything.” Other times I remember that I only spent four months studying abroad, and I was more than ready to go home. I guess I am using the same mentality as when I ran a marathon. I have to focus on the here and now, and don’t look for the finish. Enjoy the ride. If I don’t, I’ll never survive.

I hope I don’t sound negative in my blog. There are so many things going on, so many new and strange experiences, so many frustrations that I really try to focus on the big picture. I just recount my trials and tribulations for the entertainment of family and friends, and so you can kind of get an idea of what life is like here on a day to day basis.

The last week of training we had a “commitment day.” It sounds pretty corny but I actually found it to be a rather poignant experience. All the trainees had to write a statement saying why we were committed to Peace Corps for two years and convince the country director that we should be sworn in as a volunteer. I’ll take a moment to what I scribbled down right before my name was called….


“My father was airlifted out of Vietnam when the government fell. The government burned his family’s papers. By a stroke of luck, he got to leave the country. The others in his family had no ID; they had no escape.

Growing up in the U.S., I have had all the opportunity I’ve ever wanted to create for myself, to do whatever I want in life. When I turn to look at my cousins in Vietnam and see the situation they live in, I feel the gap is just too large, too unexplainable. That easily could have been me. What did I ever do to be so lucky, to deserve so much?

The situation here in Bolivia, and in developing countries in general, is far too common and for me hits a little too close to home. If America is the land of opportunity where you can be what you want to be, I want to be a part of something larger than just me. So in the spirit of solidarity of those who do not have such freedoms, I have to fight. And that is why I am committed.”

A Tour of My House

Starting with the outside view... note the little balcony!












....The entry room, fireplace included...

A view from the entry room: My bedroom and a guest bedroom in the left half of the photo, stairs leading up to the loft in the second half

A shot of the loft

And finally...the kitchen!

Why are there Chickens in the Classroom?

As we’ve learned in culture class, the adaptation cycle goes a little like this:

Honeymoon period--> Initial crash--> Initial Adjustment--> Second Crash--> Second Adjustment.

It can stop there or it can continue. Your honeymoon phase usually lasts the first 3 months or so. Since I’m not quite out of the honeymoon phase, I think I had a tiny tiny hiccup this weekend. Sometimes you are just so tired of living in a different place, dealing with a different culture, that your mind just gets overwhelmed and you are so excited to see or do anything that reminds you of home, of the normalcy of life, to feel like you are in your element or at least in an environment you understand. It leads you to do strange things, that you usually wouldn’t, and finding enjoyment in things that have just the slightest resemblance of what life used to be. For me, this all happened to me with a rock concert. Now for those of you who know me, you know I hate rock. I can’t stand the head-banging, mosh-pitting, crowd-surfing type music. Or at least I couldn’t when I was in the US. Here, I loved it. On Saturday night I went with three friends to see a Mexican group called Molotov. Just entering the stadium (I assumed a football stadium, since that is what we usually think of when we hear the term. Of course it was a football stadium, just if by football you mean soccer.) There was a huge stage. And lots of lighting. And speakers, huge speakers! Big Coca Cola bottles on the side- a little marketing thrown in. Except for the fact that they were speaking Spanish, and singing Spanish, I could almost close my eyes and believe I was back in the developed world.

We had great seats. The thing that sucked though was that I had bought tickets the day before and I lost them as we stood in a mile long line to get in. So I had to buy new ones (actually a pair of them since I was holding on to my friend’s ticket too) and it was 90 Bs! I was upset but not too upset, cause really 90 Bs is only $12 or so. But then, when you think of that in Bs, I could have done so much with it! Sometimes I get lost thinking in the exchange, thinking everything is so cheap. Then I revert to the fact that I am paid $60 a month, and I can’t believe how expensive a meal can be!

But anyways, back to the concert… My friends and I are rockin’ out to Spanish music, having a great time, when the lead singer comes on stage and introduces the next song. “I’d like to dedicate this song to the United States of America…” And my friends and I start screaming and make it 100% obvious that we are Americans and proud of it! And the guy continues… “We’d like to dedicate this song especially to the President of the United States…” at which point in time it dawns on us that they are about to bash the US, and bash it they did. The disturbing thing, since it’s not a surprise that other countries are not fond of the US, but the disturbing thing was that of the row of guys behind us, every one of them knew every word to the song! It’s not like we’re talking some slow ballad, where you listen to the song twice and have it memorized; we’re talking a politically charged song sounding almost like rap, that has to be played several dozen times before you know all the words. And these guys knew them all!

It’s hard to describe the feeling you get when you know that people around you hate you because of your nationality. I was genuinely excited to be at the concert and was enjoying myself immensely, but I must say that I walked away with mixed feelings about the event. I guess you don’t always recognize the power of the US, but it was called out loud and clear for us there. The other frustrating thing was that I know Spanish, but I don’t know the Spanish they were speaking on that stage. When do you get to fully integrate, fully understand another culture or another language? Obviously you never do, talking from the experience I have with my family. You can always try to assimilate but the reality is that you will always have the influence of your background that you cannot ignore.

The other thing is, here in Bolivia, I am not recognized as American. You can argue that I wasn’t always in the US either, but here, the initial conversations with people on the street, in the house, in the family, at school, in the community, or anywhere else, goes a little like this:

Stranger (Talking to my friend): Hi, how are you? Where are you from and what are you doing here?

Friend: Oh, I’m from the US. I’m here for two years working with the Peace Corps.

Stranger (Stealing looks at me): And where is she from?

Friend: Oh, she’s from the US too.

Stranger: Are you sure?

Friend: Yes.

Stranger: Well she sure doesn’t look like it. I mean, she looks like she’s from China or something.

Me (Interjecting): No, I’m from the US. But my parents are originally from Vietnam.

Stranger: Oh my god, she speaks better Spanish than you! How does she speak better Spanish than you? Doesn’t she speak Chinese?

Friend (in English): Oh my god Tammy, how many times are we going to have this conversation in one day???


And such is the life of a chinita in Latin America. The other day a girl on a truck pointed at me and exclaims to all her friends… “Oh my God, look! A china!” And they all turn to stare.


On the other hand, I have received love letters and gifts from teenage Bolivian boys who are just awestruck by my breathtaking beauty. ;-) To them, I am a model, a superstar that they want to take pictures with. What for, I don’t know. I’ve tried to keep a low profile, I really have! My mom has always said I talk too much so I try to be inconspicuous.

Last week we taught a week-long workshop at a high school. We taught them how to run micro-businesses and each class was required to choose a product and run a business. One group decided to throw a party, and it was such a funny party. I was back in highschool again. At the end, this boy I had danced with came up and gave me a present, gift-wrapped and everything, and took off running. I was at a loss for words and didn’t know how to react. So, not knowing what else to do, I open the present in from of all my American friends who are so curious to know just what I got, and I unwrap a framed picture of Mary and Jesus, underneath which are two shot glasses. To quote a current volunteer: “Tammy, you are in trouble. Your two years haven’t even started yet. You are in BIG trouble.” And that, I am.

And the Winner is....

I know I have been lazy in updating but we´ve been traveling quite a bit. There is some confusion as to why I have not been talking about my project, and the reason is that I have not actually started it. Peace Corps service in Bolivia commences with 10 weeks of training and only after being sworn in are we shipped off to our sites for 2 years of work. Site announcements just happened today and I found that I am going to Semaipata. It´s supossedly a really nice tourism site and I will be living with better accomodations than I had back home in the US. The challenge is that Semaipata is so overrun by Gringos and other internationals that it is hard to carve a place for yourself and differenciate your work from that of the other NGO´s. I will be a tourism volunteer focusing on pro-poor tourism, meaning that it is great that internationals do well there but I will but looking to create successful and sustainable opportunities for the Bolivian nationals.

A little info: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/01/AR2007060100708.html?referrer=emailarticle&sub=AR

I will post more as time permits. Training is winding down and it´s about to get real! We´re all a little nervous! To add to the excitement...I turn a quarter of a century old tomorrow! I will be the same age as my Dad when he came to the States way back when. So as far as settling down and having little niños goes, I am still on pace with him! There is also hope... Of a group of 20 volunteers who are ready to close service, I think 5 of them are marrying Bolivians. That´s some pretty strong representation there!!!

Feedback Please

You hear all the time that Americans live life in a hurry and that we never take time to slow down and enjoy things. One of my goals of life in Bolivia is to learn how to chill out a little. The only problem is, what do you do when you have nothing to do? Some volunteers are learning to play guitar. I´ve thought about learning photography and cooking my own meals (gasp!) , but it´s completely necessary in order to avoid eating lima bean and potato soup everyday. I welcome any other ideas or suggestions you may have.

The other thing.... Presidente Evo Morales decided to help out the poor communities by donating a $40,000 tractor to each and every farming community here in Bolivia. Thoughts on the impact this donation will or will not make? Or perhaps on the sustainability, practicality, or efficacy of such an act? I know you want to weigh in on it!!!

Prohibido Orinar En Este Lugar

Translation: Peeing prohibited here (From a sign in the park)


Who We Are

We are B46, the 46th group serving in Bolivia. We are comprised of 21 people- two married couples (one young and one older) and the rest singletons pretty recently out of college. I guess it was pretty much what I expected as far as demographics. There are two major life stages in which you can ditch what you have in the States and venture off into the unknown. One is right after college, or before “real life” begins, and the other is at retirement, or when “living life” begins.

I must admit I was a little nervous walking into the room in DC where I met my colleagues for the first time. I didn’t know if I had become too corporate without realizing it. They asked us to dress business casual and I didn’t want to be overdressed and therefore pegged with the yuppie label amongst a world of hippies. Fortunately for me, it was a surprisingly normal looking group of people. The Peace Corps hippie stereotype is woefully out of date. As for the Peace Corps “look” though- that only took about two weeks to get. Now when I look at the group, especially the males, it is obvious that many have gone without showers for several days, scruffy beards, hair still matted from sleep, and just an overall scraggly look. However, this is what passes as “business casual” in the Peace Corps. As long as you don’t have on flip flops, you are dressed as business casual. Hiking boots included.

Family

I live with a very nice family, rather well-off compared to the rest of the community. My host mother (if she can really be termed my “mother”, as she is only two years older than me) has two children, a little boy of three years and a daughter of six. She was extremely poor as a child, no money for shoes, for food, for schooling or anything else. Her father left the family when she was about three years old, just one week after the birth of her youngest brother. She did not get to attend college because her mother could not afford to pay for it. However she married a long-time family friend almost 10 years her senior and they worked hard to make a living. They now have a new house with an oven, a fridge, a shower, and a toilet. That’s living it rich.


Facilities, cont.

Many of you found my family interview to be rather humorous. Facilities before family, terrible I know. Even more terrible when I find that just because you have a shower doesn’t mean you can take one. We have had no water coming to the house for the last four days. I am reaching my limit as to what I can take. My head itches.

Safety

There are certainly horror stories associated with service in the Peace Corps. Stories of rape, abduction, murder, etc. Though they are rare, they do happen. Bolivia is unique in that it is the only country in which a volunteer has just completely disappeared. It happened back in 2001, when a volunteer went to the capital of La Paz and was never heard from again. They are still continuing the search for Wally and this week brought in search dogs that are again searching the La Paz region.
As such, Peace Corps Bolivia has implemented increased safety regulations, including a 10:00 curfew for the first three weeks of training, and moved to midnight thereafter assuming we are on our best behavior. My class is the first class to have the restriction imposed, but I guess we don’t worry nearly as much. We have numerous safety classes trying to scare us to death, but I have only taken away two major lessons:

Lesson #1: The Rock Fake Out

Dogs roam around everywhere. They are not pets- they are guard dogs. They bite. They may have rabies. But the one good thing is Bolivian dogs are afraid of rocks. And so, when a menacing canine is headed your way, bend down, pretend like you a picking up a rock to hurl at it, and it will suddenly sprint in the other direction. As many of you know, I am scared of dogs. I freeze and scream when they run at me and can´t think fast enough to look for a rock. Therefore, lesson learned. Walk around with a pocket full of rocks.

A sidenote- someone fed the dog at my house poison and it died. The next day my host mom bought one from the woman roaming up and down the street selling puppies. It cost her 20Bs, or $2.50.

Lesson #2: The Tuck and Roll

There are many forms of public transportation here in Bolivia. One is a bus that takes a predetermined route. This is called a trufi. Then there is a shared taxi that takes a predetermined route. This is the taxi-trufi. Then of course there is the taxi, and then on top of that the radio taxi, which you phone for ahead of time and it comes to pick you up. A secure option but takes some time. All are considered pretty safe except for the taxi. So if you are ever in a situation where you took a taxi against your better judgment, you begin to get a bad feeling in your gut which is then confirmed when the driver won’t pull over to let you out, you do the tuck and roll. Tuck, and roll the heck out of the taxi.


Please do not let either of these scenarios scare you. I have been vaccinated against rabies and I plan to use a radio taxi for all of my late night transportation needs.


Health

I”ve heard that you will never be healthier than the two years you spend in the Peace Corps. I can certainly see how this is true. We take vitamins, we get shots, we receive a first aid kit with a miracle known as Pepto Bismol. We get to do a #1 and #2 in a little plastic cup when we get sick, and then get to take our little bundle of happiness in a brown bag on an hour long bus ride to the lab where they analyze the aforementioned liquids, and I do mean liquids, to determine whether we have amoebas, parasites, or just a bad case of food poisoning. We’ve learned the difference between diarrhea and dysentery, and what exactly things must look like and how long it has to go on before we can technically say that we have either.

I, luckily, have not had anything more than a mildly upset stomach. My bout with food poisoning that landed me in the ER in Vietnam could have led to irritable bowel syndrome, where my stomach would be even weaker than it was before. Instead, my body decided to take the other route. I have now eaten hamburgers, dumplings and ice cream off the streets, against the advice of the medical office, and have lived to tell the tale.

On Wednesdays we get shots, sometimes up to four at one time. Some leave your arm quite sore and results in a lot of yelling when someone inadvertently gives a friendly punch in the recently vaccinated area. I have received 2-3 vaccinations each week since I’ve gotten here. I don’t even know anymore what I am getting. I don’t know if all these vaccines will really keep me safe… I think a better idea is to give all Bolivian men a shot against yellow fever!

One of These Things is Not like the Other Ones

To quell the concerns you all might have- I am alive and well in Bolivia. I arrived about two weeks ago and stayed in a hotel for the first few nights, then left the city of Cochabamba and moved in with a family in what you may call a ¨suburb¨of the 4th largest city in Bolivia. Internet access is a half hour ride away by public transport so I will do my best to get to a computer here and there.


Contact info:

Mailing Address:

Tammy Truong PCT
Cuerpo de Paz
Casilla #1603
Cochabamba, Bolivia
South America

If sending a care package (please!), make sure it is under 4 lbs and that you write that it is of zero value or I will end up paying quite a bit to retrieve it. USPS is the cheapest service to use.

I also have a cell phone now. All incoming calls are free to me. From the US what you dial is 011-591-79714189.

Living Conditions

Living conditions here are quite similar to what I experienced in Vietnam and Central America, though I must admit the city was much more impressive than I imagined. There are nice highrises and even a sushi restaurant one block from our hotel! As for my homestay, unlike many others in the Peace Corps program, the only major annoyance are the nightly bathroom runs. The Peace Corps requires that we sleep in mosquito nets as to not be bitten by the chincuca bug, the carrier of Chagas disease- a horrific affiliction that causes your internal organs to swell and ultimately results in heart failure. This makes it difficult to run out in the middle of the night as I have to unzip the mosquito net, manuver my way out of the 2 foot long opening, unlock myself out of my room, unlock myself out of the dining room, and run down the sidewalk being sure not to be surprised by the family watchdog before I arrive at the bathroom.

But at least I have a bathroom! We had interviews when we first arrived regarding host families, and mine went a little something like this...

Interviewer: What are you looking for in a host family? Are you outgoing? Would you prefer an outgoing family?

Me: Yes, I love to talk. I want a family that will hang out with me and take me to the community events.

Interviewer: How about living conditions? Remember that many families only have latrines and no showers. (At the training center are several varieties of latrines to make sure all volunteers understand how to use them.)

Me: Oh, I can rough it. I would prefer to have a shower if possible, but I can certainly make do with a latrine.

Interviewer: So what you´re saying is family before facilities.

Me: Yes, of course! Family before facilities! People are important. That´s what makes the experience!

Interviewer: Well that´s great! If it were me, I´d definitely want a shower. And a toilet. I can´t take all that squatting. It´s uncomfortable and my legs get tired and god....

Me: Um...wait. Now that I think about it.... I do get sick a lot. And it would be awful to have to throw up into a latrine...and then all the other stuff too.... Uh, I think I´m going to need a shower for sure. And can I go ahead and add a toilet? I changed my mind...

Interviewer: So you´re requiring both of these now?

Me: (rather sheepish) Yes please.

Interviewer: (Cracking up). So what you´re saying now is facilities before family.

Me: Definitely.

And as a result, I have an insanely clean house with a hot shower and flushing toilet, while my cohorts dump freezing cold water over their heads from a bucket each morning and build their quads from frequent squat exercises over the latrines. I´m not sure I know I´m living in Bolivia.


Language

I tested into Advanced- low, the highest of all volunteers in my group but not the highest level possible. I am in a class with one other student and we spend 4 hours every morning trying to improve our spanish. The ultimate goal is to test into superior, which means I have to get past advance medium and advanced high. The little twist however, is that high level spanish speakers may get phased into an indigenous community that speaks another language. So next week I may find myself halting the Spanish and instead learning Quechua or Guarani, languages of the native South americans. At first I didn´t think I´d be interested, but heck, as long as we´re at it, what´s one or two more indigenous languages anyway??

Me, my sis, and my mum

The family at the going away party

You gotta love ´em.

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Will you leave your world a better place than you found it or will your world know it´s been found at all?