Shannon Costello

The first night was definitely the worst.  We were unable to stay up later than 6pm- we were soooo tired.  But then I woke up at 1 in the morning and had real trouble getting to sleep.  What is culture shock, anyway?  At that time I figured I could define it as “psychological trauma caused as a result of finding oneself in a culture different from one’s own.” 

Part of me is still having trouble accepting that I am in Bolivia.  If someone had told me that I was actually in Argentina, it would have been just as easy to believe.  Shouldn’t there have been at least a bump when we went over the equator or something?  Anyway, clearly I’m not in the states. 

In Spain it was pretty easy to fit in, or at least not stand out.  Here it is impossible.  Everyone stares at me.  And some people make comments besides that.  I don’t mind ignoring a younger guy that makes comments, but it was a bit shocking to have, say, a seventy-year old grin familiarly and ask (using the informal!) how I was. 

Crossing the street was an experience in Santa Cruz.  There are some traffic lights, usually on sign posts on the street corners, but traffic just seems to flow, and honk, and flow.  I’m sure it is nothing like China, for example.  The volume of traffic is not nearly the same.  Still, there’s a technique for pedestrians.  The experts step into the street, leaving passing cars an inch or so, and cross as soon as there is a gap.  It’s hard to express.  I guess the biggest difference is the space everyone leaves each other.  It’s almost worse in a car, when you are so close to the car in the next lane.  If you are a moped in between the two…no seatbelts, by the way.  Not all the honking is for traffic.  I think taxis honk to signal that they are available.  And I think there is some honking just to honk. 

I had a salteña for breakfast yesterday.  It was yummy…MUCH less spicy than the ones I tried.  Can’t wait to try making them again. 

Back to culture shock.  It is helping me to make comparisons.  For example, last week I was walking down Thunder Hill Road and I accidentally made eye contact with a young man who was singing to himself.  Something about the exchange made me nervous, but I had a grocery bag with milk in it- I figured I could give him a wack if necessary.  After I crossed the street and walked a bit further, I chanced a look back.  He was standing there, staring in my direction.  So, ok, I’ve dealt with that kind of thing before.  So I don’t need to mind too much when the group of young males that we walk past let each other know that there are tourists with pretty faces passing by. 

The character of the streets would change so suddenly.  On one block there would be a tile-like pavement with shop windows displaying expensive brand name stuff.  Then all of a sudden the sidewalk would be dirt, with a couple of adolescent boys sitting their giggling while their friend urinated against the wall.  Walk faster.  Watch pockets. 

In any case, we survived the city, and it really was a neat experience. 

Francis, the full-time Bolivia missionary for Medical Ministry International, came to get us at around noon.  His wife cooked lunch for us (traditional Dominican meal) and we played with his daughter and talked to whoever was in the house.  One of the guys there took Melanie and I for a walk.  That neighborhood had a residential town feel rather than a city feel.  Night was falling as we came back.  I caught a lizard (no big deal, he was pretty gentle), and we saw an owl.  There are always lots of dogs roaming around. 

The plane with the rest of the team was supposed to arrive at 9:30pm, and we arrived at the airport right on time.  But with various delays, we waited 4 hours before everyone finally got through customs.  It was particularly hard on the welcoming committee from Portachuelo (where we are based).  I talked and talked and talked.  Lots of Spanish practice.  It was much harder on Melanie, who doesn’t know Spanish.  Please pray that I will be wise in what I say…in some ways it is harder to know the language- more responsibility. 

At 3:00 or so in the morning we were driving along when the motor of the vehicle we were in began to overheat.  There were 5 of us in the vehicle.  So there I am, in the wee hours of the morning, giving Melanie a Spanish lesson.  A car pulled up in front of us.  The driver had the biggest knife I’ve ever seen someone carrying casually.  !!!  Francis said it was probably because he was a taxi driver.  !!! 

A man came by and said to Francis that there were thieves in the area and we should be careful.  Francis thanked him profusely.  Ten minutes later it ocurred to me to translate that for Melanie.  She had had no idea. 

The Residencial where we are staying is quite nice.  I am sharing a room with Melanie.  The room has two beds- with blankets, joy!- a big window with curtains (a safety pin suffices to hold them closed), and door that locks.  We also have a table and a coat rack to hang towels, etc.  I enjoyed my 5 hours of sleep.  Our room opens on a large patio with tropical trees and hammocks.  The bathroom is similar in setup to the one we had in the hotel room.  Ominously, there was only one knob for the water….but it warmed up after awhile.  I think the electric shower heads just take longer to heat up the water. 

I had yogurt, toast, and an orange for breakfast, and then some of us set up to walk around the town.  They lost me here in the internet cafe.  That’s ok, I’m just across the plaza from the Residencial.  We will eat lunch at 12:30 and then have our orientation meeting at 2, after which we will go to the hospital to get set up.  There has been talk of me visiting a teacher training school or talking with some musicians.  The people have been very, very welcoming. 

I guess that is about it for now.  This cafe is filled with people, mostly young boys, all looking to play games.  A number of them are clustered around my chair…perhaps they are watching my neighbors playing?  In any case, this is a public blog. 

I should mention that this is really replacing any journal that I might keep.  I only brought a pad of paper, and this blog is a piece of my life that I can hang onto.  I’m hanging on!!!