Cochabamba was hard to leave. But good things are, I guess. The definite highlight of my time there was my host family, and knowing they can't get visas to travel to the States and having no certain plans of returning to Bolivia made the 'goodbyes' really sting. My other time in Cocha was spent with the other international volunteers I met at Sustainable Bolivia, and then I managed to squeeze in some time actually volunteering.
It really surprised me how difficult it is to volunteer. One would think that anyone could work anywhere for free, and one would be wrong. It took a lot of Internet research and following through on various recommendations of friends to find opportunities. Then it took barrages of emails, many of which were never replied to. Finally getting linked up with Mano a Mano was a blessing, but a lot of what could have been useful time was wasted.
I spent most of my time working on a school in Apote. I have moved a lot of rocks and bricks and feel that this is going to be great for my homerun-hitting stats this summer. We almost finished the first floor by the time I left, and it was cool to see the progress.
After wasting time finding a project to work on, the obstacles were compounded by things like the transport strike and then by holidays. There were weeks where I could never get to the building site. With this time, I helped Mano a Mano with some translation work, which even someone with my Spanish can do, thanks to Google Translate.
One day during the strike, I went to Solomon Klein Orphanage at the suggestion of friends. When I stepped in the door, they asked if I could help and I was put in a room with twenty 3-year-olds and one other adult. One little boy was blind, one had a club foot, one girl was dangerously skinny. All of them were only as clean as a few adults can keep that many filth-loving munchkins. I only lasted the morning. It was good to be there, as there was clearly a need, but I just kept thinking 'but for the grace of God...' It made me so sad to think that these kids deserve to grow up with as much love as I did, and they won't have that chance. Then it challenged my belief that 'God's love is sufficient,' a belief that should be and is always challenged, but when looking at those kids, was very hard to wrestle out. I feel like a coward for not spending more time with those children. It was something I did not have the strength to do.
This 'volunteering' thing is like using your fingers to stop leaks in a dam. The dam is never gonna be repaired, or even hold, but you can't pull your fingers out once you're personally and physically committed.
Luckily, my escape from town, after tears shed saying days of 'goodbyes,' was more graceful and fun than I deserve. On Aerosur, one of Bolivia's airlines, pilots can jumpseat for free. That means if a flight is not sold out, you can just roll up to the airport with your pilot's license (private or greater) and they hand-write something on a piece of paper to get you through security and you board the plane.
This is how I got to La Paz. When I got on the plane, in my jeans and Chuck Taylors, the flight attendant asked if I would rather sit in the cockpit or in First Class? Since the USA thinks that fighting terrorism means abolishing professional courtesies, I am not allowed to ride in the cockpit of airplanes in my own country. I have never been in the cockpit of a Boeing aircraft in flight, and this one was headed to the world's highest airport. Easy choice. I sat between the pilots and chatted with them as we flew over the snow-capped Andes.
Cochabamba to La Paz is just over 150 nautical miles. In the bus it's 7 hours. In a 737, it's 30 minutes.
I was mentally fighting between drinking in the views, studying the cockpit, and just thinking: "I can't believe I can do this!" What have I ever done in my life to deserve sitting in the cockpit of an airplane for free, chatting in a foreign language about my profession, and seeing views of Andean glaciers and Lake Titicaca, while studying high-altitude flight characteristics? I may never solve or even understand the world's problems, but one thing is certain: my life is a lot cooler than the cheap sunglasses I buy.
It really surprised me how difficult it is to volunteer. One would think that anyone could work anywhere for free, and one would be wrong. It took a lot of Internet research and following through on various recommendations of friends to find opportunities. Then it took barrages of emails, many of which were never replied to. Finally getting linked up with Mano a Mano was a blessing, but a lot of what could have been useful time was wasted.
I spent most of my time working on a school in Apote. I have moved a lot of rocks and bricks and feel that this is going to be great for my homerun-hitting stats this summer. We almost finished the first floor by the time I left, and it was cool to see the progress.After wasting time finding a project to work on, the obstacles were compounded by things like the transport strike and then by holidays. There were weeks where I could never get to the building site. With this time, I helped Mano a Mano with some translation work, which even someone with my Spanish can do, thanks to Google Translate.
One day during the strike, I went to Solomon Klein Orphanage at the suggestion of friends. When I stepped in the door, they asked if I could help and I was put in a room with twenty 3-year-olds and one other adult. One little boy was blind, one had a club foot, one girl was dangerously skinny. All of them were only as clean as a few adults can keep that many filth-loving munchkins. I only lasted the morning. It was good to be there, as there was clearly a need, but I just kept thinking 'but for the grace of God...' It made me so sad to think that these kids deserve to grow up with as much love as I did, and they won't have that chance. Then it challenged my belief that 'God's love is sufficient,' a belief that should be and is always challenged, but when looking at those kids, was very hard to wrestle out. I feel like a coward for not spending more time with those children. It was something I did not have the strength to do.
This 'volunteering' thing is like using your fingers to stop leaks in a dam. The dam is never gonna be repaired, or even hold, but you can't pull your fingers out once you're personally and physically committed.
Luckily, my escape from town, after tears shed saying days of 'goodbyes,' was more graceful and fun than I deserve. On Aerosur, one of Bolivia's airlines, pilots can jumpseat for free. That means if a flight is not sold out, you can just roll up to the airport with your pilot's license (private or greater) and they hand-write something on a piece of paper to get you through security and you board the plane.This is how I got to La Paz. When I got on the plane, in my jeans and Chuck Taylors, the flight attendant asked if I would rather sit in the cockpit or in First Class? Since the USA thinks that fighting terrorism means abolishing professional courtesies, I am not allowed to ride in the cockpit of airplanes in my own country. I have never been in the cockpit of a Boeing aircraft in flight, and this one was headed to the world's highest airport. Easy choice. I sat between the pilots and chatted with them as we flew over the snow-capped Andes.
Cochabamba to La Paz is just over 150 nautical miles. In the bus it's 7 hours. In a 737, it's 30 minutes.
I was mentally fighting between drinking in the views, studying the cockpit, and just thinking: "I can't believe I can do this!" What have I ever done in my life to deserve sitting in the cockpit of an airplane for free, chatting in a foreign language about my profession, and seeing views of Andean glaciers and Lake Titicaca, while studying high-altitude flight characteristics? I may never solve or even understand the world's problems, but one thing is certain: my life is a lot cooler than the cheap sunglasses I buy.
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