First week in Sucre

¡Hola mi familia y mis amigos!

This is my first blog entry from Bolivia! I have been in Sucre almost ten days now, and the time has gone by pretty fast; I am studying Spanish here in Sucre for four weeks before traveling to my mission site.

My first week here in Sucre was very overwhelming. There is the obvious language barrier that is a huge obstacle, and almost no one here knows English (which is a little refreshing, that the city isn´t taken by tourism). At whatever level of Spanish I thought I was entering Bolivia, it has definitely been proven that I came in knowing basically nothing. Besides the language barrier, the totally new culture has been a lot to absorb (not that anyone could take it all in during a week or two). It has been overwhelming only because it is such an unknown, and I have very limited knowledge on which to base people´s actions and interactions. Previously, I have traveled in the United States and Europe, where the general culture is a known entity.

But probably the biggest source of anxiety for me in these past days, and something that is proving more difficult than I was anticipating, is being by myself. It never occurred to me before that I have only traveled internationally with great friends around: living in Rome with my architecture family, traversing Europe with family or friends, traveling to Uganda with a group of architecture teammates. It is amazing how having just one more person in your company can put you at ease. Alone, there is no one helping you to watch your surroundings and belongings, bounce ideas off of, or try to understand and absorb the culture better. And, traveling with others can take the edge off of the reality of leaving home for an extended period (this time over a year). With that other person, you have a soul to be present to, someone with whom to talk, laugh, and sometimes someone to just help fill a subtle void in your heart; I have been greatly surprised by how much I have been homesick in only the first week. I have been very blessed to travel in my life, and it is one of my favorite things to do: experience new cultures, new people, new places. At this point, I would characterize myself as a seasoned traveler (especially at my age)… so to leave home and feel a great void in my heart so quickly, and to miss my family and friends with such weakening strength, it has left me feeling more like a newbie than a veteran.

My Spanish classes are coming along greatly. I am attending class at the Bolivian Spanish School, complete with salsa and cooking lessons! The classes are one-on-one, and I have a fabulous teacher. She has been great for me because she is a real stickler on pronunciation! And she holds me to high standards in grammar and spelling as well. Every day I feel better about my Spanish, but as soon as I leave class, I feel like I am learning like a worm, making little visible progress when I interact with my host family. Coming to Bolivia with basically no Spanish has been and will continue to be good for my patience; even when I can have patience with others, I have never been fair to myself with expectations. This is a small way the Lord is working on my heart, and asking me to love myself more.

Despite my first week here in Bolivia being overwhelming and a test of my patience, if I had only one word to describe my time, it would be: humility. I think this is most noticeable in learning a new language, but also just being immersed in a new culture and learning how to become apart of it (and learning to laugh at yourself). It is frustrating, and humbling to have someone talk to you and you have no idea what they are saying (and yet they think you do because you are nodding along). Or, if you do understand them, you don´t know the words to respond. It is also humbling when a subject will come up that is controversial, or I have a lot of knowledge on, but I can´t put in my opinion or shed light on something I want to share… topics of religion, the role of God in my life, painting and Photoshop, the United States army and government, to name a few. And on different occasions I have tried to say something, and the other person thinks I think something I really don´t agree with, or something I didn´t say (at least in my head), and all I can do is take a breathe, and try to remember that it doesn´t matter in the long run… besides I can´t do anything about it! And every day I have to quiet thoughts that they probably think I am stupid (at least I feel that way), and remind myself that it doesn´t matter what they think of me.

Last Friday night, the school organized a dinner for all of the students and professors to get together and talk in Spanish in a new environment; most of the students are backpackers so it is nice to make acquaintances and go to a social event with locals. The meal was awesome, pique a lo macho with a typical Bolivian alcoholic beverage, chuflay. As the night continued on, the Bolivians introduced a Bolivian drinking game to play while drinking chuflay (a fairly strong drink). So I asked one of the professors how to say “I am a lightweight”, as I didn´t want anyone thinking I was going to attempt to keep up with them. The professors told me to say “Soy polla” meaning “I am a chicken” (I feel as if there is a general respect in the States for the ratio of body mass to alcoholic consumption... lightweight versus chicken). But if that is what they say, alright, “Soy polla”. However, on Monday as I was headed to a park where they have preserved dinosaur footprints, I wanted to look up “dinosaur” in Spanish… and on the same page I noticed “Dick = polla, vulgar”. What? Wait, was I calling myself a dick all Friday night and not a lightweight? Where the teachers pulling my leg? If polla is pollo (chicken) with a feminine ending (as I had assumed was the meaning), do people understand that I am a “chicken” and not a “dick”? (Apologies for the offensive language).

Or, another humbling moment. Every night, anywhere from 6.oo -8.00 o´clock, members of the family sit down and drink tea with bread and jam. So, on probably my third day, the sister who is 25 years old, handed me a bowl of gelatinous white something – all I heard was “leche” or milk – and I think she said something like “Do you want this?” and of course I started nodding, and thinking it was a little weird to put something of that consistency in my tea, I continued to do so without asking questions. After I had completed plopping some “milk/gel/cream” into my tea, the sister looked over and explained, “Oh, that is for your bread.” Umm… of course it is for the bread and not the tea! I immediately started laughing out loud to myself, mostly from embarrassment and partially because I probably looked hysterical from their end. On the bread, the “leche” basically tasted like frosting, which was delicious, but less so in the very sweet tea!