In Bolivia...

A little homesick!

During the Summer of 2023, my family and I traveled to Cochabamba, Bolivia, for one month to take Spanish classes. They didn’t love it…maybe it was too long to be away from home. It was also a rough beginning. We missed our connecting flight in Miami, and FREAKING AMERICAN AIRLINES could not find another flight for us. After four days stranded in Miami, they could fly us to Buenos Aires, Argentina, for 28 hours. And then to Bolivia. We arrived in Bolivia six days late. Guess how much they reimbursed us for when we had no luggage, no place to stay, etc….$25. That’s $5 per person. They should not have offered that; I was so ticked. We arrived in Bolivia six days late and immediately started our Spanish classes. We still talk about our trip all the time, but I knew that was a one-time deal. 

We chose to study in Bolivia because our friends Adela and Javier, who live near us, are from there. Since they visit for many weeks, we decided to visit while they were here. And now, they are here for a wedding…I chose to tag along without my family to focus on Spanish classes.

I was surprised at how painfully homesick I was on Day One. It was terrrrrrrrible. Ughhhhh. I considered taking a day to recover from our 25 hours of travel to get here and then flying home. We attempted to sleep at the airport, but it did not work.

I also realized that being alone, in solitude, is a muscle to exercise. Shouldn’t we be able to be alone without being overwhelmed by fear and sadness? So…onwards. I told myself I could return home after one week with Adela’s sister, after two weeks with Adela, or after three weeks. We’ll see.

I called my youngest daughter this morning, and she asked when I was coming home. I told her that I would probably be home in one week. My older daughter overheard and yelled, “Mom! You went to Bolivia to learn. You cannot come home yet. You need to wait until you get into a groove.” That filled my heart…she’s a good one, and I love to see the little rays of light that squish their way out of the teenage stuff.

Today (Day Two), I celebrated Adela's dad's birthday with her family. We went to a restaurant for dinner with her parents, siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins. Her mom and dad danced together…a traditional Bolivian dance named “Cueco.” Looks like this…

Her mom and dad are Quechuan and speak Quechua.

Quechua sounds oddly similar while totally different, with not even a shared word (from what I can hear). There are 36 official languages in this country. I'm not sure if this is true, but I think there are still so many spoken indigenous languages partly because the terrain is so rough that some parts of the country were impossible to colonize. Maybe I'm making that up. While trying to confirm, I found this fascinating article about why socialism tanked Venezuela while Bolivia continued to thrive. 

As socialist Venezuela collapses, socialist Bolivia thrives. Here’s why.

At the end of this article, the author claims: "Socialism, it turns out, explains nothing about why some countries turn into economic basketcases. Instead, it muddles the debate for political ends, delegitimizing progressive policies that have often been shown to work while convincing conservatives that it’s okay when they recklessly overspend. After all, if it isn’t economic recklessness that causes economic chaos, but rather an abstract noun (“socialism”), why shouldn’t right-wingers overspend?"

This is particularly relevant in the U.S., where labels like "socialist" and "communist" are in recent years thrown around carelessly. Many immigrants who have fled socialist or communist regimes would never support candidates labeled as such, which partially explains why some vote for Donald Trump despite his proud racist and anti-immigrant stances. 

Today, I saw Canary Wings in the trees. We had one as a pet, but she died of cancer. She could be vicious, so I wasn't too sad. But I was still happy to see them in the trees again. A picture of our insane Canary Wing (the one with yellow wings)

Adela’s sister traveled with us. She has worked at a Bolivian bakery in Woodbridge, Virginia, for over 20 years. When we were at the airport here in Cochabamba, a man said to her, "Hi! I recognize you from the bakery in Woodbridge." Small world.

Today was an easier day. Tomorrow we are celebrating another birthday in the afternoon.