Remembering Bolivia

I really need to study for a Psychology test, and I will....eventually. My dreaded enemy, Procrastination, has invaded again, and I can't seem to concentrate. That, and the library is filled with unusually loud people today. Until then, I'll blog about what's been on my mind.
Fifteen years ago, I went on a missions trip to Bolivia with a group of young people from the youth camp I attended. I was a young, immature 16 year old, at the time. I had an interest in missions ever since childhood, and when the trip came up, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to go. There was a total of 5 girls, and two unfortunate guys that went. Jen, Katrina, Juanita, Margery, Ben, Andy, and myself, plus our fearless leader, Jenny. We spent months beforehand raising money and doing deputation services at various churches. During this time, while we had all been friends before, we became closer as a group. To this day, even though we're scattered all over the US, and the world, I consider these people among my closest friends.
The trip Bolivia brought about a lot of firsts in my life. My first passport, my first airplane ride, my first time being away from my family, my first time being in a foreign country. That first airplane ride was unforgettable. 7 hours from Miami, to LaPaz, Bolivia, on a full flight. I was in the middle seat, between Jen, and a Bolivian muscian. It was night, and of course I couldn't sleep. Jen did, though, and somehow my shoulder became her pillow. Me, being the kind friend that I am, didn't want to desturb her. They had music you could listen to with headphones, and I endured 7 hours of OLD country music! Seven hours of listening to Willie Nelson butcher the song "Crazy." I felt like going crazy!! My arm was in a position that I couldn't reach the button to change the music. But, for the love of my friend, I endured! The bolivian muscian tried to talk, but his English was so hard to understand that we gave up after a few tries. Finally, when I thought I was going to lose my mind, the pilot let us know we almost there. I can clearly remember, looking out the plane window, and seeing the sky getting lighter, and viewing those magnificent mountains for the first time. From that altitude, they looked so small, but as we landed, they were huge! To this day I have never seen anything like them. As I type this, I can clearly remember getting off the plane, and seeing Bolivia for the first time. It was nothing like I was expecting. I guess I was expecting Indians, in tribal clothing, to be standing at the foot of the plane, ready to pounce on us. (don't forget, I was 16, with an overactive imagination) Instead, it was very bleak, and cold; with those beautiful mountains all around us. We had a short layover at the LaPaz airport, before boarding another plane for Riberalta. If I thought the plane I had just disembarked was bad, the next one would have to classified under TERRIFYING! The cabin wasn't pressurized very well, and I can still remember trying to get my ears unclogged. It felt like you were at the end of a huge tunnel, trying to hear everything going on around you. The advice of chewing gum; didn't work! I had to keep yawning to pop my ears. The plane hit every pocket of turbulence it could, and I thought we were going to crash. Looking out the window, all you could see were mountain ranges, and all I could think was if our plane did crash, our bodies would never be found. We had layovers in Cochabamba, and Trinidad. My first experience of trying to find the correct bathroom was embarrassing! My advice for future travelers; if you don't speak and read the language, stand back and observe before barging ahead into the restroom. If a man enters, that is a clear indication that you should NOT! I can only imagine what the nationals thought. "That poor Gringo (Gringa?)!"
Then, on to Riberalta! After surviving the dirt runway, and the very bumpy landing, we had made it! While LaPaz was cold and dry, Riberalta was extremely warm, and humid. OK, it was HOT, and humid. If I close my eyes, I can clearly see the palm trees, and red dirt. I can hear the noises of people shouting in a foreign language, and feeling the relief of seeing the Brubecks, and knowing that our trip was finally over!
To be continued.....

Memories

It is amazing what boys can do with a few nails, some boards, and a lot of imagination. My backyard now boasts of two forts, and piles of ammunition. To another's eye, it may look like a pile of dilapidated rubble, but to four little boys, it is Fort Sumter. There, the brave armies of the Patriots, and the Yankees are battling it out for victory. I know, some of you may be wondering about the armies. Different time periods, and all. The boys couldn't decide which army to be, and no one wanted to be the Confederates, so they compromised. The battle raged on until the general (also known as Dad) called a cease fire, and peace was achieved so school could start. It's going to be interesting to see what the state of world peace will be when I get home. I love watching my boys play, especially when they're all playing together. It reminds me of Christy and I when we were little. We would play for hours on end with our dolls and Barbie dolls. The best friend you can ever have is a sibling, because you never lose touch with them. Some of my fondest memories are of us playing, and on rare occasion, Rachel would even join in. I had a wonderful childhood, and want the same thing for my boys. We were surrounded by love, and imagination. Christy and I traveled the world over, and had all kinds of adventures while we played. If I remember correctly, we were mothers of at least 15 or 16 children; whom we raised all by ourselves. Our children came from all sorts of different races and species. I think we had some teddy bear children, a monkey or two, and a lovely chipmunk named Alvin. We had birthdays for them, but they never grew any older. Life was wonderful. Too bad life wasn't like that in the real world. There is a saying, painted on the wall at work that says "Live in the moment, and make memories too beautiful to be forgotten." I have tried to do that in my own life, especially here lately, because I see how fast my babies are growing up. We can not stop the aging process, nor slow it down. We have to make an intentional effort to live in the moment, and capture those memories. Just about every lady I take care of work speaks of their childhood, recalling those memories clearest. It puts life in perspective, and makes you stop and think about what's really important; dirty dishes, or a hug from your kids. My advice today: Go out and add one more golden memory, then store it away to treasure forever.