In Cochabamba, the word "llajta" is a Quechua word that locals use to affectionately refer to their homeland, their city of eternal spring. It's used casually in all sorts of contexts, and one of the most blatant uses of it can be seen on the front façade of the Cinecenter where the words "Estoy en la llajta" are displayed for all to see. By the end of my stay in Cochabamba, I too was beginning to feel as though I could consider it a home to me.
It wasn't all fun and games like I would naïvely think before arriving; I thought that because I had already been there and thought so fondly of the city for almost two years that I would have a much easier time living there than I did in Rwanda, but the experience turned out to be difficult in its own ways. For one thing, because I chose to do my own independent research rather than come with a structured and organized program, I had to deal with a lot of self doubt of whether I was doing enough, and come to terms with my distractibility and laziness. There are of course other things that doing research and field work in the social sciences entails, such as dealing with things completely out of your control and frustrations that inevitably come as they always do when one has to deal with other human beings. Nevertheless, I had a fulfilling time and by the end of it felt like I really knew my way around the city. This was affirmed when some students from the USA came with the NGO I was originally a part of, Refresh Bolivia, and I took them around the city as well as my field site and knew exactly where I was going and how to get there.
I mentioned in a transition entry I wrote between my stays in Africa and South America that I wondered what mundane routines would take up my life in Bolivia, and now I can think of a lot. I can think of my walk to my affiliate host family's house and the place I would pass on the way called "El Castillo de Pez" which just opened, which served grilled meat during mealtimes on their large garden area and also had lots of aquariums containing fish that they were selling, as well as accessories. I can think of how I would try and sit next to a window I could open whenever I boarded a trufi to get to my field site so I could feel the cool wind whip against my face as it drove on Avenida Petrolera to the city's outskirts. I can think of the dogs that lived in my neighborhood I would walk by all the time–the really old one that resembled a golden retriever with a hoarse bark, the dog wearing a green camouflage dog sweater (and that one time I went to the market to eat a cheap meal and a little boy pointed at it and said, "Look mom, a soldier dog!"), the black dog with tan eyebrows that would sit right next to the mini market on Avenida Melchior Perez across the Casona de Mayorazgo. There were also little aspects of life in Cochabamba such as places that would serve "almuerzo completo," complete lunches, which would always include a soup, a main meal, and a drink and would often just cost 10 bolivianos. There were also friends I got to know very well, whom I would see and spend time with throughout my stay, adding to how much I felt at home. Three of them in particular, whom I have already mentioned many times in this blog, even came to see me off in the airport (pics to come).
However, I have to admit that by the end of my stay I felt ready to leave. With each day that came I couldn't help but think of Boston and the life I left there way back in December, and how much I missed it, and how close I was to finally returning. The fact that I was going through some hard times from life and research in general helped me feel more ready as well. And as a way of symbolically letting go of my issues and worries, I decided to chop off my hair.
Rafa my affiliate host sister works at a hair salon, so I knew that I wanted her to do the honors, and I knew I wanted her to do it my very last night in Cochabamba since I would be staying at their house. So late at night I sat on a plastic stool in their small kitchen and she took out a few of her haircut tools and got down to it. I asked if I could get it donated, and she said yes, there's a foundation that takes donated hair and makes wigs for kids with cancer. I was pleased to hear that (was kind of concerned because I had lost a lot of hair throughout the summer from stress) and told her I wanted to donate it, so she braided my hair before chopping it off.
Then she styled my hair into a cute bob, and by the end I was super happy about it.
Perhaps I shouldn't have worn those pajamas because then they were almost covered in tiny hairs that bothered the back of my neck as I tried to go to sleep, but oh well, it was worth it!
The next day was my day of departure from Cochabamba. I bade good-bye to my Bolivian mom and sisters, and Niky passed by their house with her dad to pick me up. Ignacio helped me with my luggage and came along, and we all went to the airport. Rodrigo was there to see me off, too!
While I did end up making many friends during my stay, I feel like these three are the ones I've gotten closest to, the ones who were the hardest for me to leave. That's probably because I've known them since my last visit (Ignacio since my exchange) and kept in touch with them despite the distance and the fact I wasn't in their city. Bearing this in mind kept me from being too sad as I said good-bye to them, since I also invited them to come see me for my graduation. (Rodrigo's basically a part of my friend group at Harvard since he got to know them during his visit two years ago so he needs to go.) Despite that, once I speeded through security and got to my gate, I couldn't help but start crying when I sat down for a few minutes before boarding the plane. There it was, my life in Cochabamba that I had dreamed of having for such a long time, coming to an end, friends that had become so dear to me remaining in the city I felt had become a llajta to me as I was about to leave for an indefinite amount of time.
After I left, I stayed in Santa Cruz for two more days before finally leaving Bolivia on Sunday the 20th. I didn't cry again as I left, since like the first time I left, I used up all my tears on Cochabamba. I had been asked over and over again when I would return, and I would always say "one day." Though I'm not sure when, I just have to. But until then, I have a thesis to write.
Good thing I don't even have to try to think about Cochabamba because it's going to be on my mind anyway, so that takes care of one potential obstacle as I take on this monstrous task.
Wish me luck!
It wasn't all fun and games like I would naïvely think before arriving; I thought that because I had already been there and thought so fondly of the city for almost two years that I would have a much easier time living there than I did in Rwanda, but the experience turned out to be difficult in its own ways. For one thing, because I chose to do my own independent research rather than come with a structured and organized program, I had to deal with a lot of self doubt of whether I was doing enough, and come to terms with my distractibility and laziness. There are of course other things that doing research and field work in the social sciences entails, such as dealing with things completely out of your control and frustrations that inevitably come as they always do when one has to deal with other human beings. Nevertheless, I had a fulfilling time and by the end of it felt like I really knew my way around the city. This was affirmed when some students from the USA came with the NGO I was originally a part of, Refresh Bolivia, and I took them around the city as well as my field site and knew exactly where I was going and how to get there.
I mentioned in a transition entry I wrote between my stays in Africa and South America that I wondered what mundane routines would take up my life in Bolivia, and now I can think of a lot. I can think of my walk to my affiliate host family's house and the place I would pass on the way called "El Castillo de Pez" which just opened, which served grilled meat during mealtimes on their large garden area and also had lots of aquariums containing fish that they were selling, as well as accessories. I can think of how I would try and sit next to a window I could open whenever I boarded a trufi to get to my field site so I could feel the cool wind whip against my face as it drove on Avenida Petrolera to the city's outskirts. I can think of the dogs that lived in my neighborhood I would walk by all the time–the really old one that resembled a golden retriever with a hoarse bark, the dog wearing a green camouflage dog sweater (and that one time I went to the market to eat a cheap meal and a little boy pointed at it and said, "Look mom, a soldier dog!"), the black dog with tan eyebrows that would sit right next to the mini market on Avenida Melchior Perez across the Casona de Mayorazgo. There were also little aspects of life in Cochabamba such as places that would serve "almuerzo completo," complete lunches, which would always include a soup, a main meal, and a drink and would often just cost 10 bolivianos. There were also friends I got to know very well, whom I would see and spend time with throughout my stay, adding to how much I felt at home. Three of them in particular, whom I have already mentioned many times in this blog, even came to see me off in the airport (pics to come).
However, I have to admit that by the end of my stay I felt ready to leave. With each day that came I couldn't help but think of Boston and the life I left there way back in December, and how much I missed it, and how close I was to finally returning. The fact that I was going through some hard times from life and research in general helped me feel more ready as well. And as a way of symbolically letting go of my issues and worries, I decided to chop off my hair.
Rafa my affiliate host sister works at a hair salon, so I knew that I wanted her to do the honors, and I knew I wanted her to do it my very last night in Cochabamba since I would be staying at their house. So late at night I sat on a plastic stool in their small kitchen and she took out a few of her haircut tools and got down to it. I asked if I could get it donated, and she said yes, there's a foundation that takes donated hair and makes wigs for kids with cancer. I was pleased to hear that (was kind of concerned because I had lost a lot of hair throughout the summer from stress) and told her I wanted to donate it, so she braided my hair before chopping it off.
Then she styled my hair into a cute bob, and by the end I was super happy about it.
Perhaps I shouldn't have worn those pajamas because then they were almost covered in tiny hairs that bothered the back of my neck as I tried to go to sleep, but oh well, it was worth it!
The next day was my day of departure from Cochabamba. I bade good-bye to my Bolivian mom and sisters, and Niky passed by their house with her dad to pick me up. Ignacio helped me with my luggage and came along, and we all went to the airport. Rodrigo was there to see me off, too!
While I did end up making many friends during my stay, I feel like these three are the ones I've gotten closest to, the ones who were the hardest for me to leave. That's probably because I've known them since my last visit (Ignacio since my exchange) and kept in touch with them despite the distance and the fact I wasn't in their city. Bearing this in mind kept me from being too sad as I said good-bye to them, since I also invited them to come see me for my graduation. (Rodrigo's basically a part of my friend group at Harvard since he got to know them during his visit two years ago so he needs to go.) Despite that, once I speeded through security and got to my gate, I couldn't help but start crying when I sat down for a few minutes before boarding the plane. There it was, my life in Cochabamba that I had dreamed of having for such a long time, coming to an end, friends that had become so dear to me remaining in the city I felt had become a llajta to me as I was about to leave for an indefinite amount of time.
After I left, I stayed in Santa Cruz for two more days before finally leaving Bolivia on Sunday the 20th. I didn't cry again as I left, since like the first time I left, I used up all my tears on Cochabamba. I had been asked over and over again when I would return, and I would always say "one day." Though I'm not sure when, I just have to. But until then, I have a thesis to write.
Good thing I don't even have to try to think about Cochabamba because it's going to be on my mind anyway, so that takes care of one potential obstacle as I take on this monstrous task.
Wish me luck!
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