Time to Sink or Swim

I´ve been half in and half out. Kinda doin´it kinda too ascared to actually go balls to the wall. But everywhere I meet gypsies living and travelling soley on the money they make selling jewelry.

This last November I had a ticket to fly home along with my sister Angela. However I realized i wasn´t ready to go home. I haven´t learned what i came here to learn- sustainability, and natural medicine.

So I made up my mind to make my last $500 dollars get me around the next several months and then somehow get home. Yeah, it was silly and half-hazard of me. But it was my choice and these last months have been some of the most challening and rewarding of my life. Enhanced by the amazing people i´ve met along the way.

Besides living extrememely frugally I began selling my jewelry to stretch my limited cash. Its kept me afloat especially during my long stays in La Paz. However the variety of my jewelry has been limited due to my small budget.

So today I gathered my nerve and decided... its time to ¨Go big or go home.¨ I made the rounds to a variety of vendors collecting all sorts of beads and strings and random items to make jewelry. I spent all but my last $20 pesos, and now its time to ¨sink or swim¨ as i use my new supplies and my savvy to to get me to the end of my journey.

By the way I´m exited to tell you about my plans to get home in the next post!

So long, Farewell- Bolivia

I can´t believe it really. But as i count and recount the days on the calendar with the stamps in my passport I realize my time is up.

90 days on the visa came and went like a wrinkle in time. Its hard to believe that i´ve spent 3 months here during my two visits, but as i recall the memories i feel good. Nostalgic but good.

The wine vinyard of Jesus, the cliff hanging- roller coaster muddy bus rides, the salt flats, the abundant toilet time, the laughs and dessert testing with Angela, and the other special people i met along the way.

And during my recent visit- Pedro, the guitar guy, my many gypsy friends and of course, Bruno and all the wonderfull people at Sachawasi- Yes its been a wonderfull passing of a season.

After counting the days of Bolivia i realized that i´ve been in S. America for more than six months. Again it feels like like i slipped through a worm hole in the cosmos. But i recall the incredible places and faces along the way and i feel elated.

I recall my time digging in the dirt and experiencing the power of magical plants and know that i´m on track to reaching my goals. And i´m following my dreams, what else can a man ask for? Well i´m sure you can think of a few things...


So long, Farewell...

Return from Sachawasi

As the hours pass, i look down at my tired feet and then up the road. Surely I´ve got to be getting close. They told me it was around 5 hrs to walk to the pueblo where i catch my bus out of the lush jungle and into the concrete jungle of La Paz.

I feel the sun scorching my gringo red shoulders and i realize i should put a shirt on. A few hrs later I reach the pueblo, find some food and squat under a shade tree while i try to understand and make sense of the last month spent in the Bolivian Amazon forest.

Sustainability- weeding, harvesting, some building projects, a lot of moving things around. Some cooking, some dancing, some music by the fire, more music without fire. Some incredible plants, some powerful people. Lots of wonderfull people, lots of bananas, even more mangos, and a ton of other fruit that were as inredible as their names were strange.

Dancing through the pueblo in nothing more than a loin cloth, some jewelry and a rattle. Dancing with a tiny old bolivian lady. Pounding on a drum slightly out of rythm. Drinking nasty herbal concoctions with enthusiasm and actually enjoying it, if only for the ceremony and company of good friends.

My current battle with alcoholism (more on this later) in a community of drinkers and during the worlds biggest celebration- Carnaval! Broiling chicken on a spit, cooking it with veggies in an earth pit oven. Sampling the great food the cooks made, sampling it again. Eating yucca and beans, eating more yuca and beans, and eating yucca surprise, so many great memories!

But what did i learn, what did it mean for me to be at this project? I assumed that after half a day´s walk and then a full 13 hr bus ride, i would be able to pin down and tell you the most important and signifigant points of this excursion. But i´m still struggling to find the words to describe this last month that was only a blip in time and equally a few lifetimes.

Thanks to all the amazing people at the project, my soul feels such connection and gratitude for you. Until our next crossing or the ocean!

Compassion in Bolivia

Today as usual, I went down the street for a breakfast of Potatoe Soup (35 cents). I´ve discoverd the food here is considerably cheaper if they´ll agree to serve you without meat. So I sat down on the curb and asked the sweet ol´ lady for the usual. Another old lady squatting with a bowl of hot fish soup frowned at me and told me i needed fish too. I told her i just wanted the 2 peso bowl.

I was surprised to find the whole group huddled around their bowls staring at me, looking me up and down and murmering. Then the sweetest old man told me that i was eating fish soup this morning and that he was inviting me to it. I thanked him while the lady sirved my soup. I was soon inhaling the delightfull soup and glad to have a change.

As i finished the soup, the kind senior asked me if i needed more, i told him i was satisfied and thanked him. He then looked down at my barefeet and asked if he could buy me shoes. I looked into his eyes and noticed such love and compassion. We shared that gaze for a long moment, and a smile began in the corners of my mouth and continued to my eyes, my ears, and deep into my soul. I again thanked him and walked off to sell my jewelry.

As i walked it occurred to me how amazing humanity can be. There´s been numerous times in the states when someone has noticed my ragged looks and taken care of me. But here I was in one of the world´s poorest nations being fed by a man that likely makes no more than $100US dollars each month.

I then realized I must look pretty damn ragged for a Bolivian to feed a ¨gringo.¨ But i decided last month while soul searching how much i love beeing barefoot, and so have taken every opportunity to embrace it, country or even city.

My hostel is the cheapest i could find on one condition, that i don´t use the shower or kitchen. Well the price is right and Ï´m on my way to the farm tomorrow anyway. Wish me luck.