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.