If you a) met me after August 2015 and b) have spoken to me for at least ten minutes, then you know how much I adore Bolivia.
I first visited the country in August 2015 as part of a college volunteer group and loved it so much that I returned two years later in 2017. That year, I spent around two months living in a city called Cochabamba to do field work for my anthropology thesis. When people ask me where I learned Spanish, I say "Bolivia." And when people ask me what my favorite country is, I say "Bolivia." (Admittedly that is a very hard question, and the obvious answer is the Philippines because of my loyalty to the place where I am from, but I say Bolivia partially because it is the truth and partially because I want a default answer. I also find it amusing that my favorite country is woefully landlocked, while I am proudly from an archipelago.)
Considering the fact that I lived in Cochabamba for two months, I figured there would be things I would rediscover upon returning. I also came up for the question this week while on the plane to Brazil, and I told myself I would wait until I actually returned to Bolivia to come up with an answer. I have thought about Bolivia every day since I left six years ago, so I was curious what would suddenly return to my memory simply by being here. Now that I have been here almost a week, I have an answer.
The first thing I experienced did not actually happen on the ground; it happened in the air. While on the flight from São Paulo to Santa Cruz de la Sierra, the steward asked me what drink I wanted. I said, "agua con hielo" (water with ice). He ended up scooping a ton of ice and as he handed it to me, he said, "agua con harto hielo!" Something about the way he said that made me feel nostalgic excitement. The word "harto," when used in Bolivia, signifies a great quantity of something. Although I learned Spanish in Bolivia, I sadly am rarely exposed to Bolivian Spanish. This means that little Bolivianisms such as the word "harto" do not live in my brain like they would in a native speaker. Nevertheless, I have been content to rediscover them. Hearing Bolivian Spanish again feels like home.
The first "official" thing on the ground that I had forgotten about is a drink called mocochinchi. My first full day in Bolivia, I was having lunch with my host family, and I saw a pitcher of juice. It reminded me of mocochinchi, though I could not for the life of me remember what it was called. I asked my host sister Jimena what juice it was, and she told me it was tamarind. Not what I was looking for! I thought long and hard, trying to remember the word mocochinchi, but it didn't work. After we ate, I went on a walk with my host brother Ignacio, and I asked him what the juice was called. He knew exactly what I meant, and he took me to a place where I could get it.
In case you do not want to click on the blog entry I linked to talking about my host family, I will explain who they are here. I first met Ignacio in 2012 when we were both exchange students in France, and he was the first Bolivian I ever met. At the time, I did not speak Spanish, nor did I know where Bolivia was other than "somewhere in South America probably," but we got along well. We didn't see each other again until my first visit to Bolivia in 2015, when we hung out some more and he introduced me to his family. The rest, as they say, is history. Seeing the family again has been such a joy, and I feel as much a part of the family as I did during my last two visits, even though I am much more of an adult now.
On the subject of boys I met while traveling, James and I finally reunited in Cochabamba after his week in Argentina and Uruguay. He arrived on Sunday night after my first full day back in Bolivia. Since we met in 2017 (ergo after August 2015), and he presumably has spent more than ten minutes talking to me, he has known of my obsession with Bolivia for a long time. I just verified this with him and his interest in visiting Bolivia came from hearing me talk about it incessantly, so now he finally has had his chance!
Now that I have answered the question prompt for this blog entry, here is a lowdown of what we have been up to this past week, complete with pictures.
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| Sweet Josefina, whom I first met in 2015 and who is now 16 years old!! |
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| A pic I sent to my parents of Ignacio, me, and our friend Niky for proof of life after not talking to them all of last Saturday while traveling to Bolivia |
My first night in Bolivia, Ignacio and his mom picked me up at the airport. We then spent some time at their home, where I got to see Josefina and Jimena once again. Jimena had twins in 2018, and after seeing them grow up on Instagram, I finally got to meet them in real life. She is so kindly lending her apartment to James and me, which we have all to ourselves. The siblings and Niky drove me over to the apartment on Saturday night, and we all hung out with a French girl Ignacio met recently. The three of us got to speak in French and Ignacio told me the next day that she thought I was French that whole time, despite me saying that I was Filipino and that I lived in Boston. Glad I can still confuse people about where I'm "really" from!
The next day was my lunch with the family. At one point, Ignacio took out his guitar and started singing for his dad. I left the dining room to go to the kitchen for something but Ignacio yelled at me to come back and listen closely to the song and its lyrics. So I did. The lyrics were pretty dramatic. ("This guy can't get over this girl so he's going to disappear into the woods!" he said.) I told him the melody sounded super Bolivian, and he said that usually it's a traditional song played with the charango. Not that it was something I forgot about, but hearing the song reminded me of how Bolivia's music is something else I love about it. If you do one thing while or after reading this blog entry, please listen to this song.
Once James was here, I made sure he got to try salteñas, a typical Bolivian food. There's a chain called Hamacas in the building where we're staying, and the chain is one of the first places I ever ate in Bolivia. I figured it ought to be one of James's as well.
Something James and I wanted to do in Cochabamba was visit the Museo Alcide d'Orbigny. We had heard about it because of a certain piece of conservationist news that came out around 2019. Romeo, formerly the world's loneliest frog and formerly thought to be the last of his species, finally found his Juliet! Or rather, some cool scientists did. James and I are frog aficionados and were obsessed with this story. Of course, the fact that this all happened in Bolivia only made me enjoy it more. So this past week, we paid a visit to the museum housing the scientific center that studied these frogs. Unfortunately, the frogs are not in the part of the museum open to the public, but we were still happy to pay a visit.
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| This magazine was on display at the entrance to the museum |
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| The path leading to the museum |
One day, Ignacio asked us if we wanted to accompany him glasses shopping in the historic center of the city. We said of course, so we took a trufi to get there. James and I found it funny how all these optical shops were on the same street next to one another. Ignacio explained that certain parts of the city were where you could buy particular things. (On a later excursion, James and I saw the mattress part of the city and the musical instruments part of the city.) He also explained that the further south you go, the cheaper the shops get. After visiting around five stores and trying on who knows how many pairs of glasses, Ignacio settled on a pair. He gave them his prescription and they said it would be ready in less than two hours, which surprised me. Normally, I'm used to waiting days for a pair of glasses to be ready. While waiting for the glasses, we walked around. I learned that one of the streets in the main square had been redone to be solely for pedestrians, which was wonderful.
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| Now we all wear glasses! |
Later that night, James and I went to Ignacio's house. Jimena, his mom Pati, and the twins Mila and Lara were all there. The idea was for me to cook shakshuka for them, which is why I bought harissa in São Paulo, but I underestimated how much of a struggle it would be trying to cook in a different country. For one thing the harissa did not smell or taste like the harissa I would get in the US, and there were no big cans of crushed tomatoes. James and I had to make do with chopping a ton of tomatoes and mixing them with purée and hoping for the best. I was very nervous that it would turn out badly (and apparently so was Ignacio...hater), but let's just say it was edible and it could have been much worse!
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| James being cornered by the twins |
James spent some time talking to Pati. She told him about how they considered me a part of their family and apparently commented that I had changed since the last time I was with them six years ago. Apparently I'm more easygoing now? More gracious? Something about my attitude, I guess. Whatever it was, I like to think that I've grown up a bit.
Finally, here are some pictures of the building where we are staying. Since I have to work during the day, James and I are super grateful to have a space for ourselves. Plus, it's close to a lot of cafes that are wonderful to work from. And it has amazing views from the balcony and rooftop.
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| Spot the Jesus statute that Cochabamba is known for |
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