July 7, 2006

see all photos »

We flew with AeroSur to Cochabamba, where 100% of the stewardesses are charming and slim. Mom says she always loved the glamour of being a stewardess. And talking about glamour, I definitely was bubbly about how we got to board the plane from the ground.

We walked down a path charted by camouflage-clad police and there was a crowd of thirty Bolivians eagerly watching behind a fence as we tried to control our luggage in 80 mph wind! Then we got to walk up the stairs into the plane. I felt like someone out of Casablanca! I had to work to contain my smile.

Oh and the reception we had as we arrived in mom’s birthplace of Cochabamba! Nellie and her esposo, Wilbur, their two hijos, Esteban y Moses…Sonja Grey and family (they speak English! And have a piano! Wheee! We’re going to their house tomorrow!)… A lady who I think is Sonja’s sister… Aunt Lucy, Cathy and Vania (mis primas)… and Aunt Lucy’s compadre that drove us. They all were on the balcony of the airport to wave to us when we walked down those stairs again, and then we clogged the doorway with hugs, kisses and mucho gustos, after we picked up the three suitcases that did make it with us.

We drove through the city to get to Aunt Lucy’s house. In the airport it was easy to believe there wasn’t much poverty in this country, but once outside of it, I definitely saw it. But that’s the way of life here, and if ever we saw Pioneers traveling across the prairie in a covered wagon I know we’d think how poor they are, but I don’t think they thought they were poor. That’s why I wonder what the Bolivians think.

In the states, I’ve never met anyone who identified themselves as anything but middle class, and I’ve known a lot of people. My friends who live with their moms in little apartments and call that normal and friends with stretching property in the country think themselves normal as well. I know I thought myself very normal until my economics class when I found out that my dad’s intelligence really does bless us more than just being able to help us with homework.

Though never relative in morality I think normalcy is something that can’t be defined, even by a mathematical analysis of incomes or standards of living. We all make various choices about how to allot our funds between different qualities of clothes, housing, washer machines, computers and video game systems. These choices are limited by various funds but I think there is a lot of freedom in being able to customize your living. I’d like to look into that idea more and see if it corresponds with reality, especially the reality of Bolivia.

One momentous experience so far has been seeing a Bolivian lady in the airport whose white hair looked classy. Now, if you were me, you’d understand why that’s a big deal. I’ll explain. It’s kind of hard to see how a hispanic can gracefully let her hair turn gray and white without looking like a Navajo Indian. I have no concrete plans right now, but I do hope to not have to spend my later years answering, “no ma’am, I did not make that basket”, and “please sir, I’d rather you not call me ‘squaw’”. But if God bless me with marriage and kids and grandkids and days enough to see them, I also don’t want to be a granny with raven black hair! So seeing this lady gave me hope.

But that brings me to my next general observation. I’ve never seen so many Bolivians in my life. In the airport I was struck by how many there were and then was equally struck with, “Karissa, you’re going to their country you know!” Oh yeah!

I seriously have been on “operation end school year”, and “operation pack for trip” and have not paid any attention to “operation get ready to be in a foreign country, namely Bolivia where you’ve wanted to go your whole life, for six weeks!”

Now that I’m here with people of my most obvious half, ethnically speaking, it’s different than I expected. At home and especially at Biola I sometimes wish there were more people that would say “noooo, don’t be duuuuumb” like the Mexicans from high school. I also enjoy comparing nationalities and favorite foods in the collegium, the most concentrated area of hispanics on campus I am positive.

But now that I’m with people who I resemble, I feel odd to have lost my uniqueness! To have dark skin isn’t exotic anymore. But you ask, Karissa, what about those Hispanics from high school? Well, I still felt unique then because frankly Bolivian and Mexicans look very different as I see more and more now. I only knew three other Bolivianos at Cal High. But losing something that subliminally has made me feel special, exposes that I need to completely ground my special-ness in the image of God that I was made in. Shall I read Cicero’s Dream of Scipio?

Well anyway, time for bed though in California it’s only 7:30! I don’t know when this is going to get posted on the blog since Tia Lucy doesn’t have internet. I hope the Grey’s house does.