The top of the world

I´m still trying to convince myself that what I just did was real!  Last week I had a showdown with Huayna Potosi, and miraculously I came out on top— on top of a 19,975-foot peak in the Andes.   It really was one of the most amazing things I´ve ever done—and one of the hardest! 

It was kind of a spontaneous decision to make this trek.  A friend of mine had been planning to climb the mountain for several weeks, but at the last minute the people he was supposed to go with canceled.  I thought of the circumstances just as a sad story, but then he asked if I would want to go.  I wasn't sure how to response at first.  I had only been in La Paz for two weeks, and wasn't sure if I was acclimated yet.  Also, I've never climbed a mountain before, and this is a HUGE mountain!  But, on the other hand- why not?!

So the next day, we were off!  It's about an hour drive to the base of the mountain, and that same day we walked almost two hours to the small hut were you spend the night and attempt to acclimate.  And you have the most INCREDIBLE view!!!! There were about twenty or so other foreigners up there as well, and we milled about for several hours, trying to stomach some food and (at least for me)- trying to calm my nerves! And then it was bedtime: 8:30.

I had a really hard time sleeping, the wind was howling outside, and I was freezing inside.  But also, I think the real problem was that the pills my friend and I had taken to help with the altitude- I found out later were pretty much just caffeine pills.  Whoops!

However, it wasn't too long of a night because four hours after hitting the sack, we woke up to start hiking.  I was feeling a bit nauseas from the altitude so for breakfast I just had a strong cup of coca tea.  Then, I put on every layer I owned, helmet, headlamp, crampons, ice axe, tied into the rope, and we were ready to start: 2 am!

It was a weird thing to only be able to see several feet in front of you.  Also though, it keeps you very focused-- all I was really thinking about was putting one foot in front of the other.  The first hour or so wasn't too bad.  You just keep trudging along in a mindless state. 

But as you continue, the nausea sets in, and breathing becomes more and more of a task.  My friend had brought some coca, so we put a good handful of that in the side of our mouth to try to ward off all normal human feelings: hunger, thirst, nausea, tiredness. 

Honestly, I don't really remember all that well how the hours passed.  When it I try to remember it, it feels a bit like a foggy dream, that you know you experienced, but you can't quite recall what happened. 

I do remember the last half hour to the top though! Most of the hike is in pitch black.  You see ice, you can sort of make out some of the crevasses, and you can vaguely see the outline of the top- looming over you.  But as we got close to the top the sun was almost rising, and I could begin to make out the scenery around me.  The last twenty minutes you walk along a ridge that has more or less solid footing on one side, and on the other is a sheer drop-off, for hundreds of feet.  It gets really really steep, and you have to fight your delirious state-of-mind to focus and make sure each step is on solid ground. 

And then the sun rises! And you're at the TOP, with the most amazing view!!

IT WAS UNREAL!

And then it became real again when my friend had to keel over and puke.  haha.  It was time to head down. 

The way back is in full daylight, and it's so cool to see everything that you didn't know existed on the way up.  Also, I realized that despite the feeling on the way up, that we were on an endless trek that was hundreds of kilometers, the climb really isn't that long.  It took about 4 and half hours to go up, and only about two to get down! 

We rested at the hut for a little while, and then hiked the rest of the way down to meet the truck.  And I have NEVER sat in a car that felt so comfortable!!!

I realized that I haven´t really mentioned anything about classes yet- which actually is a little strange because the academic side of the program has been pretty consuming.  There are just six of us on this program and in the mornings we have class based on the theme of the program: Revolutionary movements and conflict resolution, and in the afternoon we generally have Spanish class.  The morning classes are always taught by a different lecturer.  We´ve had Bolivian historians and government officials, Cuban philosophers, Venezuelan diplomats…  yeah, it´s been intense to say the least.  But also, so so so interesting.  Everyone has their own take on history, what forces are influencing the present, and where the future is headed.  Our Spanish classes are a little less formal, and we often get to leave the classroom and explore market places or nearby towns.  One thing that´s been a bit frustrating is that our university is sort of in the boonies.  The commute takes about 40 minutes each way, making our days really long.  I usually leave my house around 9 and don´t get back until 7.  However, the director of the program totally understands our frustrations and we´re slowly making changes.  (This is the first year of this particular program in La Paz, so things are somewhat flexible.)  For example, one change we´ve made is that at least once a week we have class at our director´s house in downtown La Paz.  She has an amazing apartment, and with just six of us, we can have class around her dinning room table.  We often eat lunch at her house too, which is so so great because she is an amazing cook!

Walter Solón



There's a really cool non-profit here called Fundación Solón.  It's named after the famous artist Walter Solón Romero Gonzáles who was a human rights activist.  Along with small paintings, he also did several murals in La Paz and Sucre.  The other day for Spanish class we wandered around the city to find all of his murals.  (But not all of the pictures are his murals)



He made this mosaic after his son was killed by the dictator.  (and as a side note- he often has a Don Quiote in his paintings, which is his symbol of the struggle for human rights)

The mural was in the university for public health.

I still can’t get over the fact that my family has a maid. At first, I took the weirdness just to be a cultural difference. But, it’s been almost two weeks now, and I still find myself constantly thinking about it. The maid is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and often when I come back from classes around 7, I’ll hang out in the kitchen with her while she irons or cooks, or prepares something or other. It turns out that she started working when she was 12. Her mother died when she was very young and she went to live with her grandmother so she could go to school. However, school was really hard for her, and her grandmother didn’t read or write so she had no one to go to for help. After a while, she couldn’t stand the embarrassment of school and so… she dropped out and started working. She told me that what she really hopes to do one day is to move back to her home village and have a nice house and some time to herself. Right now she lives about 2 miles away on a road that most cars can't even drive and in a house without running water. And this is the home of a woman that works 12-13 hours a day!

While my parents treat her very kindly, the still establish definite boundaries that creates a distance between them. For example, we generally eat our meals on the dining room table, and the maid and her kids never sit with us. They always eat on stools in the kitchen.

I know that the United States is filled with inequalities, but I’ve never experienced them glaring at me everyday.

Mi familia

These are some of the cutest kids ever! They are the children (and niece) of the empleada, but they are totally part of the family. 

 

These are the turrones that my mother makes.  They are sooo delicious!!

Language y idioma

I just looked over my first post and I realized that really, it said nothing. Well, I suppose it offered some evidence that I really did make it here, but beyond that....




But at the same time, my lack of disclosure about life here, sort of reveals something of its own. There are so many incredible and shocking surprises about this places that I almost feel paralyzed-- in the sense that I'm lacking the vocabulary and capacity to articulate the experiences here. However, recognition is the first step to recovery, right? So, now that I at least know that I'm failing, I can attempt something more.



For example, the simple fact of being surrounded by a completely different language and trying to communicate in that language has radically changed the way I am able to interact in my surroundings. I’ve studied Spanish for some years now, but I haven’t ever needed to rely on my Spanish-speaking abilities and thus, I’ve never really developed the ability to communicate fluidly in the language. Needless to say, on arrival here… it’s been a bit of a shock to go 100% in to Spanish! (ok. Except, that I should admit that los otros gringos y yo a veces abandonamos espanol) However, my point is that now Spanish is my means of communication and it’s really changed the way I can think and express myself. Without the words to describe an idea, the idea remains an abstraction that I have difficulty pulling into reality. I remember reading some philosopher that said our reality is the product of our discourse. The words we have and the way we use these words define our reality. I think that it’s kind of like the idea that the Eskimos have something like 20 different words for snow and therefore they are able to understand snow in a very different capacity than someone like me who only has a handful of words for snow. Anyways, at first when I heard this philosopher, I wasn’t so sure about his theory. Sometimes you have a feeling and you don’t know how to express it , but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. However, now, being forced to adopt a new language, and one that I am far from mastering, I find myself often in this no-man’s land of thoughts. I know that I have a question or a thought about some subject, but I can’t define it. However, I don’t mean for this rant to sound like a wallow in sorrow. I’m loving thinking in a different way… as frustrating as it is. While it sometimes feels like there is a wall blocking my thoughts from being articulated, speaking a different language has also opened this whole other way of understanding. There are ways of talking and structures that just don’t exist in English and so you have this incredible new perspective.

At long last.. I’ve arrived in La Paz!

The flights to get here were quite hectic, but through some luck, help from the rents and pretty much a miracle, I made the 12 am flight from Miami to La Paz and arrived in the city around 7am on Sunday the 28th. The airport is in El Alto and as we drove down to the heart of La Paz we had the most amazing view of the city!

Everyone was a bit delirious from the altitude, however, after a strong cup of mate de coca we rallied and went on an incredible tour of the city…

Another view of La Paz from Killi-Killi

Inside a store at the Witch Market (the box is full of llama fetuses)

Some political graffiti

At the end of the tour we stopped at a book fair and outside were several performances.