Oh, yeah - I remember culture stress...

There is a great deal to like about Cochabamba.  It is great to be back, but today I had little reminders that it is stressful to live cross culturally in a developing country.  It typically isn't the big stuff, but a slow accumulation of small stressors that gets to you.  Today was a wonderful day, worked on the Easter worship service in the morning and then Jashton and headed out to get to know Cochabamba.

After four days here, it was about time to go into the city Jen and I used to call home.  We decided to save our walking legs and grab a trufi for the one mile trip down the hill.  The driver charged us 2 bolivianos, Sunday a driver charged us 2.50?  I was told the rate was 1.70 per person - but obviously for short trips it varies... but by how much and when?  Does it really matter?  No - we are talking the difference of 5 to 10 cents US - it is no big deal, just a little bit of ambiguity in your day - a tiny touch of stress...  It was the start of my reminders throughout the day.

Simon Bolivar & Jashton on the Prado

view of the marchers from Globos

We were took the next trufi into the city - when I ask the rate, will he tell the truth (he did), but exactly where does this route go, and why has traffic stopped moving?  We "bajar" and head into one of the garden plazas in the heart of Cochabamba (Plaza Colon).  Jashton and I walk up and down "El Prado."  Filled with restaurants, this is the place to be Saturday night, and nice for a stroll on a Tuesday...  As we head back toward Colon I notice something extra is happening.  There are thousands of protester parading by.  "But I thought everyone was happy? What are they do here?"  Again, no major impact on my non-plans of the day, but still, stress as we decide to take advantage of a restaurant with a view of the march.

Potato overload!

They have all passed in about 45 minutes (yes, it was a large march - but peaceful), things returned to normal, so we head into the market area of the city - the "Cancha."  I really like the trill of the chancha (literally translated it is "the playing field").  You can find just about anything in the cancha - from a dozen different varieties of potatoes, to 60" Sony flat screen TVs, to plumbing fixtures, to lingerie, to bolts of fabric, to cell phones, to cooking oil, to baby cribs.  After 9 years I could still get to where I wanted - Jashton and I made it all the way to the toy section (on the far south side of the cancha).  But is someone trying for my wallet?  How much should something cost?  I love the cancha - it is a good stressor, but a stressor all the same.

On the way back to the north side of town, Plaza 14 de Septembre is on the way - oops, that's where the march ended, and things are still going strong.  It is impossible for me to keep my head down here (being a foot taller than everyone), we quietly glide around the corner and away.  That wasn't expected.  Stressor.  Then I remember, the news on at the restaurant was reporting that the protesters were in la plaza principal - I should have understood that better, I should have put it together - stressors.

How much did I get ripped off buying that water?  Where can I make a telephone call?  Am I waiting at the right corner?  All reminders of what it is like to live here.  It is great to live here.  I had a great day, and it was fun be reminded of Bolivia.  Jashton was a super trooper as we walked all over.  But just know that those missionaries you support face some big challenges, but also deal with lots of little things as they sort thought a culture which is not their own.

One fun surprise - at one of our ice cream pick-me-ups, Jashton and I thought a fruity popsicle looked good, so we each got the same one - looked like strawberry - it was cinnamon!  (after our first licks I read the label)  We were both really glad I didn't read first - who would have thought a cinnamon popsicle would be a good thing?
If you happen to see one, get it, they're great.