A few things you should know before you visit me …
To meet and greet:
A woman greeting another woman or a man greeting a woman would take their right hand and the two would kiss on the right cheek. One person says “mucho gusto,” and the other “igualmente.” (Nice to meet you … likewise). Two men greeting each other would start with a handshake, and then there would be a simultaneous clap on both upper arms, followed by another handshake. It’s a funny little dance. Also, if someone’s hands are dirty or wet, it is perfectly normal for them to offer you a forearm to shake instead.
You greet everyone you meet, so if there’s a group of ten people there you have to go around the entire circle. When I first met my family in Cochabamba I thought I had all of my bases covered. I had greeted everyone properly except my youngest cousin who seemed really shy so I just shook his hand. Anyway, apparently he turned away not because he was afraid of me but because he was awaiting his little beso (kiss!). So my aunt said, ¿qué pasó que no le gusta a su primo? How come you don’t like your cousin?
For passers-by you say buen' día in the morning, bueñas tardes after lunch and bueñas noches when it gets dark. Most of the time people reciprocate warmly. Sometimes though, people look at you like you’re nuts. The Peace Corps training director explained this phenomenon. “Sometimes they take one look at you and decide they won’t possibly be able to understand what you’re saying, even if you’re speaking perfect Spanish.”
Food:
We don’t really eat breakfast or dinner here, but we always have a good lunch and you’re practically required to ask for seconds. Please, talk with your mouth full and eat with your hands or you’ll make everyone feel self-conscious. If your hands get greasy, you can wipe them on the tablecloth! I have never burped at the table but my little brothers do it often and with gusto, for which I apologize in advance. Also, at night they often drink coffee with about five scoops of sugar. It’s no wonder they’re out of control.
A few favorites here in the house include chicken feet soup and fried cow stomach. They usually cook me something else on those days but since you won’t have to eat it once a week for two years, you might want to just go for it. Once you’ve finished your second plate, it’s most polite to say gracias to everyone at the table (not just the chef) and they will reply with “provecho.” Likewise, that’s how you reply to others when they say gracias to you, or how you greet a table of eaters whether you plan to join in or not.
Water comes from a big cement tank in the backyard. It is green with algae, full of calcium and lord knows what else, and there are definitely some bugs swimming in there. I boil it for seven minutes then filter it to use for cooking and brushing my teeth; my drinking water comes in a bottle, a luxury I pay for and refuse to give up. My host family does at least bring water to a boil before we consume it. I have püro with them all the time and haven’t died yet.
After tea, my host dad will start chomping on a bunch of little leaves and putting white stuff in his mouth. The leaves are coca and the powder is not cocaine – it’s baking soda, which apparently activates the drug in its natural form. It doesn’t really get you high. Mostly he just sits and smiles and tries to talk to me but I can’t understand him with a big wad of leaves in his mouth. He tells me all the time it’s his only vice, and if that were true I’d say he’s doing all right for himself.
The Party Scene:
You will never have to pay for anything here; the family throwing the party provides it all (DJ and/or band, food, drink) and there’s even a special ceremony to pass next year’s party on to another family. It is possible to fake your way through most dances and I’ll let you know which ones to skip … or teach you if I’ve learned by then.
This is very important so you might want to print this out or take some notes! DO NOT just get a cup and drink it or you’ll be on your ass before you know it. Wait for someone to say “salud,” then take a small sip. There will also be someone walking around with some very sweet wine mixed with soda. BEFORE you drink it, look to someone else and say, “te invito.” I invite you – otherwise they’ll continue to pour them for you alone (you can imagine me figuring this out the hard way). If they try to give you the bottle, don’t let them! The pourer inevitably drinks the most and you don’t want to be tied to this job for the rest of the night; better to be first in line for the food (which usually comes around midnight or later).
At the last party I went to, the first person fell face-first in the dirt at 7:30pm. We do not run out of alcohol here; Emily and I put some serious effort into avoiding the bottles as they go around. She told me in a pep talk the other day that it’s best to “go in with a strategy.” For good reason, as Chaqueños (those from the Chaco) drink an alcohol they refer to as “pure” even though it’s usually mixed with soda. It is, in fact, rubbing alcohol. The same kind you buy at the pharmacy to clean wounds. Consider me thoroughly disinfected.
Transportation:
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Bolivians have carpooling down to a science. They fit more people into a car than you would think is possible. For starters, there will be at least two people sitting at shotgun. It is very likely that crude seats have been constructed behind the driver’s and passenger seats facing backwards, knee to knee with those in the backseat. Kids and occasionally men ride in the trunk of what is usually a hatchback of some sort.
I have waited as long as four hours for transportation. Taxis leave when they’re full (see above). The micro that comes here at three actually comes between 2:30 and 5pm or not at all. If you do manage to get a spot, it’s lucky for you if you don’t have someone’s baby (or even like, their 10-year-old) sitting in your lap. There will definitely be something squawking in a canvas bag and quite possibly something with hooves tied to the roof, and it may or may not fall off during the journey. We may or may not stop to get it.
One time Doña Vicky asked me to drive her, in Don Yonny’s ancient jeep, to pick up some cheese from the farm when he wasn’t around. “Yo sé manejar,” I told her. “Pero no sé arreglarlo.” (I know how to drive but I don’t know how to fix it.) Luckily, every taxi driver is also a mechanic. I’ve been broken down on the side of the road with shocking regularity and he always manages to patch things up. I’ve also seen some pretty impressive rigs, for example, lawn chairs welded in where proper seats would be or one special car in which the driver tied a rope to part of his ignition and looped the other end around his rearview mirror to idle it while we waited for passengers. “Easier than starting it again,” he told me, at the beginning of a long journey.
Sleep
Last night there was a party at one of my neighbor’s houses. Loud native and Argentine cumbia music blared through giant speakers late into the night, loud enough to shake my walls and the insides of my eardrums. In the wee hours of the morning, the dogs started barking, literally, to beat the band (maybe they were telling the late night partiers to shut up?) A little while later, our very annoying black and white cat, who desperately needs to be neutered, started positively howling outside my window. I chased him away with a cup of water, but he came back about an hour later to continue his sad song of lust. Of course he can’t be bothered to go out and actually find a girlfriend – must be a man thing.
At about 3 am a PC friend who will remain nameless sent me a very funny drunken text message, to which I felt compelled to respond. It was almost four when my host dad got up and shuffled about, then left for Santa Cruz. Between 5 and 6, the chickens flocked onto the patio. The rooster climbed aboard the table by my door and mercilessly crowed his little heart out. One of the workers arrived, shouting at my host dad to get up (Don Yonny, of course, had already left). He then started up the crazy old jeep and used a sledgehammer to bang the broken door shut. I had brief homicidal thoughts but instead rolled over, smiled, and went back to bed. There are few deadlines in my job, and few concrete commitments. I was tired and I went back to bed. Thus begins another day in the Corps.
