los ultimos dias en cochabamba

Last monday:
We´ve met another gringa here from the states named Jessica. She works at a pre-school in the city and is taking quechua classes at our school as well. Her pre-school held a party, but they ended up buying too much food and beer so she invited us to come on monday night and hang out and buy said party favors at a discounted price so the school didn´t lose all their money. When we got there, we were a little unsure of what to expect. It was our group of young people from the states and europe, and then the director and some of the teachers from the school. They spoke spanish, we mostly speak english or german; there were a few moments of confusion, but in the end we had a great time. We set up a circle of chairs and got some music going and the party started. They played traditional Bolivian music for us and attempted to teach us the dances to go with the songs. Some were relatively easy, some were really difficult, but they all involved some hopping and spinning so I had a great time just trying. All the teachers were really nice and lots of fun. We also salsa-ed: Mans and I showing off our ¨skills¨ from the one class we took, while Uls and Camilla (who have been dancing salsa forever) actually had skills. We also found some old dicso music and all danced to this. The director was an older lady, but she was absolutely exploding with energy. She invited us all to come back and work for her if we didn´t want to leave. I may take her up on this.
On wednesday there were several futbol games we wanted to watch on television so we ventured into the center of the city, to an area called El Prado and found a restuarant full of fans. First we watched Bolivia play Ecuador, and while I was the only one cheering for Ecuador, the right team won. I didn´t cheer too loudly though because, being surrounded by bolivians, I decided this was the smarted choice. We also watched some of the Colombia game, Paraguay, Uruguay, you name it. For dinner, we spent an hour or so looking for a restaurant one of our teachers had recommended. It shares the same name as the mountain we climbed-Tunari-and one man we asked pointed to the mountain instead of a restuarant. We generally have better luck asking directions than this. Our expedition was unsuccessful, but we found somewhere else to eat, and they even changed the tv station for us so we could watch more futbol.
Friday was the last day of classes for 4 of the students at our school from Switzerland, so that evening we had a party to say goodbye. Once again there was a mix of contemporary music and dancing, as well as traditional. The directors and teachers even came to hang out and most were excellent dances. We learned one dance called the slave dance because it was traditionally done by the slaves brought to work the sugar cane fields, and you sort of have to move like your feet are chained together. Also one that my teacher Paola called the flirting dance, where the men and women face each other and wave handkercheifs in the air. If you wave it high, its like a ÿes i´m interested, and if you wave it towards the ground then its a no. After dancing at the school, we all piled in a teacher´s van (and I do mean all 12 of us) and headed to kareoke bar. We sang one song, it was bad, people laughed, and we all had a great time.
Saturday morning a group of us met bright and early at the school for a trip to the largest area of Incan ruins in Bolivia. The bus ride wasn´t the best after the long night of good-bye partying, but when we got to the site it was definitely worth it. We learned that, when at all possible, the Incans build their settlements between three rivers for protection. There were remains of the outer walls, the kitchen, what is believed to be some sort of barracks, as well as the largest single room from any Incan ruin discovered so far. There was a beautiful waterfall, and we learned about medicinal plants. There were circles of stones that marked where they buried their extra foodstuffs to keep the cold, dry, and safe from invading groups coming from the east. Evidently you can still find these circles throughout the mountains in the area. We were accompanied by a local woman who only spoke quechua, which was interesting when she tried to talk to me because I could not understand anything that she said. Vice versa, she didn´t speak spanish because in that region it is mostly the men who learn spanish because they take the goods to the city. The children also have to walk two to three hours to the local school.
On Sunday morning Dee, Mans, Camilla, and I decided to visit el Cristo de la Concordia. This is the largest statue of Jesus in the world, barely beating the one in Rio De Janeiro by a matter of centimeters. It is situated on a huge cerro in the south of the city. It is possible to walk up the hill, but because muggings happen here a lot we decided it was best to take a taxi to the top. From there we could see the entire city of Cochabamba. It was so clear we could even see to the ridge of Tunari. When we arrived at the top we also discovered that we could walk up into the body of the statue itself. This trip consisted of 154 steps up winding, metal staircases, with landings in between where there were small holes to look out over the city. The views really were amazing. We couldn´t climb completely to the top because it was closed, but our highest point was right around his armpits-still a great height. We ate ice cream and took pictures and then went home for lunch with our family. We debated walking down the hill with a large family of Bolivians, but somehow managed to hop on the teleferico, which wasn´t ´working,´ but all of a sudden was. We think we rode down with the men that were fixing it, and everyone at the bottom was surprised to see the 4 gringos pile out of a car, but it certaintly beat walking down in the heat. After showers and a nap, we met a group of friends and one of our teachers to go to a local futbol game. I expected it to be a little crazy, but really I was not prepared. The fans were extremely energetic to say the least. There were two sections with bands and huge flags. In one of these sections (I´m guessing it was full of young people) intermittently throughout the game they would set fires to piles of paper IN THE STANDS, as well as set off fireworks, throw bottles at the police, and even throw the fireworks towards the field. The police were armed with riot gear, and while they did nothing to put out the fires, at one point they set off tear gas. What instigated this we never found out, but the gas spread through the stadium, and they had to stop play for a bit so it could clear out. We weren´t even sure what was happening until we saw other fans spreading out and fanning themselves, and then the players on the field hit their knees and covered their faces. Luckily we were a good distance away, but it still reached us and my nose was burning. This was as bad as it got, although there was a family in front of us with a baby, and they were trying to keep her covered. This we decided, it probably why they did not sell any alcohol in the stadium at all: the fans are crazy enough as it is.
Yesterday was the feria de Cochabamba, which is a day to celebrate the founding of the city. After classes, we went into the city to buy a few things and stumbled across the city parade. This consisted of everyone from war veterans and widows, to firefighters, to police, to special ops, to high school bands, to miners´ unions, to the city council as well as the city tax department. There was more, but after a few hours in the sun we decided we had seen all that we could handle. Yesterday evening, as I was attempting to write this very e-mail in an internet cafe, all the power in our neighborhood suddenly went out. This was accompanied by a lot of children screaming, and I almost got stampeded by them running out the dorr, but I managed to stumble across Dee, Mans, Daniel, and Phillip in the street. We headed to a restuarant where shortly after we arrived the power came back on and ordered chicha because Daniel talked us into it. Chicha is the traditional drink of Cochabamba, and, as we learned at the Panchmama celebration, really isn´t that good. While we were lamenting our purchase, a few locals came over to make friends. Thus we ended up passing the chicha in circles while toasting Cochabamba and Bolivia and our new friends. Luckily for us they enjoyed chicha, and so we were able to finish the bucket. They were drunk, and so there were entertaining mistranslations, but it was really funny. One gentleman bought another bucket, but we excused ourselves seeing as how we had class in the morning (and we really, really didn´t want to drink more chicha.) On the way out another table offered us a taste of their local drink-can´t remember the name-and we figured that we might as well give it a try. Their´s was much better and now I know to order the pitcher of yellow drink versus the plastic bucket of chicha. Everyone was really friendly and wanted to talk to us. I gave translating my best and think it went pretty well. Dee and Mans held their own as well, although Mans was sitting beside the drunkest guy, so understandably had problems communicating with him.
Today was the last day of classes, and while I have learned a lot its a good time to leave because I was learning the different types of sunjunctive. Really confusing, really hard, and really frustrating. My brain needs a break and then maybe I can come back to it. Tonight we´re having a good-bye dinner with our friends. Cochabamba has been really great, and we´re definitely going to miss it, but now we´re on to new adventures in Montero.
Adios for now, my love to all. Please send me updates and news about your lives.
mgb