There and Back Again: the World Travels of a Watson Fellow: Calm and Crazy in Coroico

I have been in the sleepy town of Coroico for only two days but I already feel much more at ease than I did in La Paz. I’ve been doing yoga every day for the last week and although it is still the rainy season here, I’ve seen more sunshine than I have in days (in between the colossal downpours). Moreover, I am certainly realizing my preferences and values as I progress through this year – for instance, I know now more than ever that I really don’t like metropolises as they just don’t feel like home. In contrast, I have only been into Coroico town once so far, but its small size and chaotic streets are much less intimidating. My host family is renting a house in here a few kilometers outside the main town, so it’s quite a nice treat to be able to go on a few day escape with them. According to the 2010 version of Lonely Planet Bolivia, Coroico is a small town of only 2,360 but a popular vacation destination for both tourists and native Bolivians: “Coroico is derived from the Quechua word coryguayco meaning ‘golden hill.’ The town’s biggest attraction is its slow pace, which allows plenty of time for swimming, sunbathing, and hammock-swinging.” It is located in the Yungas – “the transition zone between dry highlands and humid lowlands, where the Andes fall away into the Amazon Basin.” We were able to go to las cascadas yesterday (waterfalls) and I was even able to take a half-clothed dip in one of the natural pools, which was quite cold but deliciously refreshing. I usually can’t pass up an opportunity to swim and come to think of it, it’s only the second time I’ve been able to swim in the last half year, the other being a snorkel trip into the Indian Ocean off the coast of Tanzania. I am also helping my host mother dig up a plot in the backyard in preparation for planting a vegetable garden and together with her ten-year-old son, we built a compost pile with the weeds we pulled up, kitchen scraps, dried banana leaves and chicken manure. I must say, it felt nice to get my hands dirty again, though this climate is much more welcoming to insects, large and small. Moreover, I was excited and happy to be able to teach other people, including her son and husband, about compost and the benefits of recycling organic wastes and nutrients.

I am continuing to take Spanish lessons with the señor of the family, which has provided an excellent chance for me to review everything I’ve forgotten, though the rather unstructured nature of the classes and relative disorganization makes me a little crazy – as anyone who knows me is aware that I am a fan of order. Moreover, I find myself frustrated when I can’t understand someone in a normal conversation because they aren’t speaking at a snail’s pace or when I can’t form the words to adequately respond. I know that it will take time and full immersion, but in the interim, it has been quite discouraging. Moreover, I have had very few genuinely poor experiences this year and generally have really liked everyone I’ve crossed paths with, but unfortunately, sometimes you just don’t click with people and regrettably, this seems to have happened. I am taking 30 hours of Spanish classes with "ABC Spanish Tuition" in Bolivia’s capital city of La Paz and simultaneously living with the teacher, William, and his family in the quiet neighborhood of Miraflores. Of course, I have always known that I don’t like small children, but it has been particularly difficult to have class inside the home and try to get any kind of research-related work done when their children (ages 3 and 10 with another 5 year old family member) seem to always been running around, making noise, crying or fighting (and subsequently needing to be scolded). It’s difficult to concentrate and peace and quiet is nearly impossible to come by. I guess it started the first night when I tried to call the teacher to meet me at the bus stand when I was nervous about arriving in La Paz after dark. When he didn’t pick up his phone and I had to send an SMS, leave a voicemail, and send an email, I should have suspected that perhaps this wouldn’t be the best living arrangement, as I ended up spending the first night in an overpriced hotel. And two weeks later, it really hasn’t gotten any better. The classes take place in the guy's dining room, which is fine except when the kids are running around screaming and interrupting. But in general, it's all pretty unprofessional. The classes are disorganized, and I couldn't even read some of the handouts he gave me because they were so poorly photocopied and came in a jumbled, unstapled mess. Part of it may be that I am taking individualized classes, which means there is no one else to act as a buffer. For a few days, I joined a young Irish guy who was also taking classes, which was more tolerable and even fun. Aside from the classes, I wish I hadn't elected to live with the teacher's family because it's "too much teacher time." And in Coroico where the family is renting a house, I found a mouse running around my room and even in my backpack, and I couldn’t sleep a wink last night because of a leak in the roof which translated to a deluge in my bed. Furthermore, other people have told me that I am being overcharged when considering what I am paying for classes, room, and only partial board and I hate quibbling over money and meals, which has happened on multiple occasions over the last two weeks. He even said, “and I could be charging you for tea”, which I had three cups of in two weeks and when I accidently broke a light bulb, instead of asking if I had cut myself with the broken glass, he responded, “that’s 20 Bolivianos!” and proceeded to ask me again the next day to pay for it. He owed me $6 change at one point and when I asked for it, he said, “but you ate dinner here yesterday.” Yes, I did, but your wife cooked dinner for the entire family with the $5 bag of quinoa that I had bought at the supermarket without asking. Are you kidding me? As you can imagine, it is awkward and uncomfortable, but unfortunately, I really have to stick to a tight budget and make the Watson stipend last the next five months so I don’t totally run out of money when I finally reach Iceland. Also – that awkward moment I was giving his three-year-old kid dirty looks when his father was trying to spoon feed him lunch and he kept crying, then the dad goes: "do you know how to say staring in Spanish?" Mirar fijamente (fixed look), then he said, "for example, por que me estas mirando fijamente?" Haha, talk about tense and awkward, but seriously, this is one of the worst behaved, bratty, whiney kids I’ve ever met. In short, it has been extremely difficult to transition from Bhutan and India where people were so generous with their time, skills, money, homes, food etc. (India has a saying: “guest is God” and you can’t enter any house without being offered copious amounts of tea and snacks) to Bolivia where everything seems to be about making a buck. In some ways, it seriously perplexes me since some of the people (e.g. farmers) with whom I was interacting in India were so poor, yet simultaneously generous. Regardless, I am trying to keep my head up here, even though this has been one of this year’s toughest transitions: from countries where people took care of me like family to South America where I honestly feel quite alone. In fact, I miss my family and friends more than ever now and hate to feel like I am counting the days until I go home (or at least until I move onto the next homestay). Fortunately, at the same time, when I read background information on my project to prepare me for my hopeful work in quinoa production, I once again become excited and enlivened.