Crossing Borders

I have been traveling since Thursday night and it has been a giant bundle of unexpected craziness. Hopefully I can do the trip justice in this post.

We left Cochabamba on Thursday night on the 11pm bus to La Paz (the capital of Bolivia) which is about an 8 hour ride. This meant I had to say goodbye to my wonderful host family, which was harder than I thought it would be. And now when I think about it I get really sad all over again. 

Can't believe I left my 2 year old brother.

When I got to the bus terminal in Cochabamba, we found out that the buses possibly would not be leaving because of a road blockade that had formed during the day by the campesinos on the one and only road that goes to La Paz for Cochabamba (this happens alllll the time). If there is a road blockage, no buses can leave because (obvi) they cannot get passed the blockade. Who knows what they were protesting, but luckily the blockade broke up and we boarded the bus a little after 11. We lucked out, too, paying 70 bolivianos (10 bucks) for cama-style seats there were super spacious and comfortable. 

We got to La Paz at about 7am and felt the altitude change immediately (La Paz is about 3,800 meters above sea level, thus being the highest capital in the entire world). I had a pretty intense cold (still do) and had a nice fever keeping me warm for the bus trip, but my fever was no match for the frigid La Paz air and I immediately was freezing and got exponentially sicker within about 5 minutes of getting off the bus. 

Our time in La Paz was relatively uneventful as we were only there for the day on Friday. The city is very urban and the downtown is surrounded by huge steep hills of slums. This picture that I found on google displays the hills (didn't take any pictures in La Paz): http://palinstravels.co.uk/photos/flc/main/flc_241_01_l.jpg

In Bolivia, it is normal for the richest people to live on the lowest land and the higher up you get on the mountains, the more poverty you will encounter. 

We left La Paz at 8am for our trek to Copacabana and Lake Titicaca. Try to picture us, however, at a hostel that caters to backpackers and we each have... one HUGE suitcase that ways more than I can lift,  a backpack with all of our valuables (computers, passports, etc.), a large duffle bag with all of our extra stuff (mine has medicines, pillow for buses, supply of water, hygiene products, etc) and lastly we all have sleeping bags. We can barely make it 3 steps without everything falling apart. Our bus, however, was parked about 7 blocks uphill from us. La Paz, it should be noted, does not have paved sidewalks, so we are hauling all of this stuff on dirt/rock roads. 

Two hours into the bus trip, we are told to get off the bus, go buy a boat ticket and take a boat across the lake while the bus goes across on a separate bus. So off we trekked with our luggage. 

A boat taking little vans across the lake. The same type of boat that took our bus. 

We got to Copacabana, but immediately found it was ferial (festival/holiday) in Copacabana and pretty much everyone in the world was visiting the city to celebrate the virgin (Mary? I'm guessing?). So, all roads were closed in the city which meant no buses (more importantly no taxis) could drive in the city, so we trekked again with our luggage through the cobblestone streets in search of our hotel. 

Ferial in Copacabana is obscene. Everyone is drunk starting at 10am, people were passed out in the streets and along the water at 2pm as we were walking around the city. There is trash EVERYWHERE. I was always shocked by the level of trash in Cochabamba, but Copa was worse. Everyone just throws all of their trash out their car window or drops it on the street as they walk by. This applies to diapers, tampons, candy wrappers, beer bottles, you name it. The lake is also the destination for all of the town's sewage. A few meters from the swimming area is a stream of sewage that runs out of a pipe that, presumably, comes from the city's center and straight into the water. 

Our second day in Copacabana was spent in Isla del Sol, an island about 2 hours by boat from Copa. It's definitely a tourist destination and nothing else. Nobody really lives on the Island other than the people who own the dozens of hostels and hotels. The boat ride is 35 bolivianos, an entrance fee to the island is charged as soon as you step off the boat. Then, little girls leading an alpaca on a rope approach and, if you take a picture (which I didn't), they immediately run to you demanding payment for your picture. They sure know how to exploit the tourists. We tried to hike on the Island, but we couldn't get more than half an hour away from the boat dock without someone demanding more money from us to use the trails. It was certainly pretty, but I definitely wouldn't recommend the trip. 

We marched our luggage to our bus from Copa to Cuzco at 6pm (a solid KM from our hotel), trying to avoid hitting the cars swerving through the streets and the numerous street venders. We took the bus about 15 minutes, before de-boarding and walking to the Bolivian migration station at the border of Peru. We successfully exited Bolivia and walked across the border, getting our passports stamped at the Peruvian migration station. We re-boarded the bus and prepared for probably the coldest 10 hours of our entire lives. Even my raging fever couldn't keep me warm on this one. I didn't manage to sleep on on the 10 hour trek, which was a bummer. I also probably prevented a lot of the other passengers from sleeping due to my coughing. Whoops. We paid travel fees to pass through Puno, and got to Cusco at about 5am. We took a taxi to our hostel, where the front desk conveniently could not find our reservation. I showed him our email confirmation, but his response was something like, "well, you should really call in advance. You can't just expect us to keep your reservation after we confirm it." OKAY. 

We camped in the hostel lobby for a few hours, where the app on my phone said it was 5 degrees celsius. Finally, we got to check in at about noon and we have beds at least for tonight and tomorrow! Tomorrow we are planning a horseback riding trip (stoked!). 

The plan is to head to Machu Pichu on Wednesday and it will require about a day of hiking. I haven't decided if I will go yet, because there is a $140 entrance fee. Machu Pichu sounds cool, but eating for the three weeks I will be in San Francisco before my first paycheck this fall sounds a lot more fun. 

This will probably be my last blog about my travels in South America this summer. Thanks for reading! If you'd like to keep following my blog about my normal life (outside of the South America), follow lucasinsanfrancisco.blogspot.com 

The Amazon with the Burson-Ryans!

Last week, my co-intern/partner in crime Annie and her awesome parents invited me to go to Villa Tunari in Bolivia's portion of the Amazon with them for a few days. We had an awesome trip, chalk full of amazon-esque adventures in addition to my overall happiness to spend time with a family that resembles my own!

We left from Cochabamba Tuesday morning on a large bus headed to Chapare, which is about 4.5 hours via bus (and not that many KM, but everything moves slow in Bolivia). Annie and I watched episodes of friends on her tiny ipod nano and ate enough peanuts to make at least 3 jars of peanut butter.

Our hotel was a few KMs from Villa Tunari and was pretty much the cutest thing ever. Each room is a little cottage, in the middle of the forrest, a ten minute walk from the river. The hotel even had an open-air hammock lounge above the restaurant. The first afternoon, we went down to the river and exclaimed over the size of the ants that were marching down the path as well, carrying leaves to, presumably, build some sort of missile or military base considering how much material they had.

Ant inspections

Just LOOK at how big they are!

We got down to the river in search of the Pozas (hot springs) advertised at the hotel, but soon came to realize that "hot springs" and "river" are pretty much the same thing as far as the local Amazon-dwellers go. We went down the river a bit until we found a deep enough part to swim and Annie rapidly transformed into olympic swimmer mode while I doggy paddled with the fishes. 

A nice swimming hole 

On the first night we ate at the restaurant at the hotel, which had delicious chicken and played cards with the parents. I officially learned Gin-Rumy (no idea how to spell that) which is exciting. After dinner, Annie and I took a taxi into town hoping to meet some locals and get more information about the TIPNIS dispute, but alas, Villa Tunari is pretty dead at 9:30pm on a Tuesday. 

The second day we went to Parque Carrasco, a giant national park with all sorts of endangered flora and fauna. We took a really sketch tram across the river and got a tour of the rain forests, including but not limited to: butterflies, coca plantations (not sure if the one we saw was actually legal), and penis shaped trees. 

Make-shift tram across the river

Literally a penis tree

The coca harvest

We didn't have any signal on our Bolivian phones in the park so we couldn't call for a cab back to the city once our tour was done. Strangely, Bolivia is not really equipped to handle tourists, so they dont have things like shuttle buses or pre-organized tours of the big national parks in the Amazon. It seems like the country could so easily capitalize on tourism since they have such beautiful places... but apparently the amount of cocaine production near the amazon is pretty dangerous and it keeps tourists out. We ended up walking pretty far on the main road until we found a bus stop for locals. A taxi came by and we piled a ton of people in a station wagon and got back to Villa Tunari without a problem!

Kickin' it in the back of the wagon

On the third day, we went to a different national park. There were monkeys in this one and we were warned not to bring any valuables on our hike since the monkeys are known to steal things. Sure enough, about 15 minutes into the hike, we came across a monkey who promptly climbed on Annie's shoulders. After lounging for awhile, he jumped off and ran towards Annie's mom, snatching her water bottle before she could even grab for it. He hid up in a tree for awhile playing with the bottle, getting frustrated when he couldn't get it to pour into his mouth. After he got bored with the bottle he came back to us, climbing back on Annie. Then came the deadly mistake. I turned away from Annie, and my iPhone in my back pocket became visible to the monkey. He lunged for it and got his little monkey hands on the phone, but luckily I reached back and grabbed it as well. Annie used her super human strength to pull the monkey off me and I ran away. The monkey then followed us at a stalker-esque distance for the next 15 minutes. 

The little thief with the water bottle

View from the top of the park

Monkeys in the Amazon

I traveled to the Amazon Rain Forest with the beautiful Burson-Ryan family this week. A thorough blog to be posted in the next few days, but for now-- here is a short little video of the monkey that stole our water bottle.

Las Peliculas Mejores del Verano

This summer I have watched a lot of really excellent films. Some of which with my host family and others with my friends or in the FSD office.

La Mala Educación

This a classic Almodóvar film, with a host of complexities of identity and really wonderful character development. The film follows a boy who is sexually abused in his youth and grapples with this abuse as he transitions to female later in life. His brother and his ex-lover play intricate roles in his development, as a film about the little boy's life is produced within film.

Ciudad de Dios 

 This is a Brazilian film about a specific flavella in Rio (called City of God). The film is really beautifully shot, although it is extremely violent. Somehow intermixed with the violence, the film manages to pretty fully develop its characters. I finished the film with a lot of questions and some confusion, but overall the it's a really powerful piece.

El Piel Que Habito

Another Almodóvar film that is absolutely stunning. The acting is fantastic. The film follows a man who we find out via flashbacks has lost both his wife and child to suicide related to traumatic life experiences. The man is a surgeon and a chemist and starts to experiment with the re-creation of skin. He manages to transform an unlikely person into a mirror image of his wife and then... dun dun dun. Watch it!

Home

With every adventure that life brings us (or the adventure of life itself) there is a time when the adventure must come to end. For my summer in Bolivia, this time is imminent. I am leaving my host family and Cochabamba in less than two weeks, and in three weeks I will be sleeping in my own bed in the States.

Although I have missed San Francisco during my time in Bolivia, I haven't felt an aching or a longing for familiarity that I half expected might occur during my time abroad. I feel like I have lived really fully here. But I think today I hit a little bit of a turning point, and I am ready to come back. I am ready to return to the completely different life that I have set aside for the last 2 months.

I think this feeling of completion was influenced by a lot of factors. The first being that there are people in the States who I care about a lot who are going through very difficult times and it pains me to not be there with them in a time when they really need support.

I was going to go to my host-cousin's birthday party tonight at a fancy club in the north of the city, but I got to the club and there was a huge line out the front door of girls dressed in six inch heels, with three layers of make-up on, and big burly boyfriends hanging all over their waists and I thought about the last time I was at a club where my friend Manuela pointed out all of the guys at the club who were standing around the edges watching and waiting for the next girl they were going to hit on.... and then I though about the 30 BS cover to get in if you are a guy (less if you are a girl-- sexism?). And I looked down at myself and my clothing that doesn't really fit my body right because I can't fit my female-bodied self into clothes I feel comfortable with. And I can't get into clubs without someone at the door giving me a hard time because I look like a 12 year old boy, and once I am inside, what bathroom am I going to use because the highest percentage of hate crimes happen in male bathrooms, but I also can't really use the female one...

So, I just got out of my cab, hailed a different cab, and left.

And then I opened the letter a kid from my program had written me (he wrote everyone a goodbye letter) because he is leaving Bolivia tomorrow since his program is over. In the letter he wrote about his experiences with Christ and his christian faith and how he believes that "homosexuality is a sin" but he is a sinner, too so he won't "point his fingers at me." Give me a fucking break. Not only am I not a homosexual, and thus comments about homosexuality are not relevant to my identity, I also have gone so far out of my way to use only male pronouns to describe myself, introduced myself only as Lucas, had the support of all the USF girls in making sure that they never used female pronouns around me... Why do people have to assume that trans people are all homosexual? Not that I don't love all the homos in my life (because I DO love them), but I wish the non-queer community could figure out that gender identity and sexual orientation function independently of each other.

So, I am ready to get back to the States, start testosterone, and move closer to the point in my life where I will not have to defend my identity every day. I am also really missing those SF dive bars.

Documentary: "La Identidad de Justicia: Mujeres Trans en Cochabamba"

"The Identity of Justice: Trans Women in Cochabamba"

The accumulation of my work in Cochabamba, Bolivia. The documentary below is 14 minutes and investigates the experiences of transexual women in Cochabamba, Bolivia. It focuses on discrimination, HIV, and Sex Work

La Identidad de Justicia: Mujeres Trans en Cochabamba (English Subtitles) from Lucas Waldron on Vimeo.

Political Graffiti - Null Votes and Cocaine Roads

The walls of Cochabamba are covered in graffiti. Some of it illegible, some of it statements of teenage adoration, but most is rooted in political adversity.

As displayed in the picture above, the walls of Cochabamba are often canvases for political messages, such as the frequent "nulo = nulo" messages spread across the city. This particular statement references several different elections in Bolivia's history when large percentages of the population chose to cast "null votes" instead of voting for candidates or reforms that were viewed as biased. For example, in 2011 there were elections to choose 56 new judiciary officials in Bolivia. The candidates, however, were chosen by Evo Morales' administration, the MAS party (socialist party), that many Bolivians view as extremely corrupt. Since the opposition was not represented in the election, about 48% of voters cast null votes, and 20% of eligible voters abstained from voting, even though it is compulsory. The ballots, however, were counted only including legitimate votes, thus only representing about 30% of the population. Graffiti around the city expresses discontent over elections like this, where null votes sometimes account for a higher percentage than any of the candidates.

Tipnis is another political topic that frequents the walls of Cochabamba, normally in the form of statements like "Defiende Tipnis" -- "Defend Tipnis." Tipnis is a region of Bolivia between the departments of Beni and Cochabamba, bordering the Amazon rain forest. The region is a protected land, home to many species of flora and fauna in danger of extinction, and home to several very rural indigenous communities. The MAS government of Evo Morales wants to build a road through the Tipnis. The reasons for this road are heavily debated. The government's political line is that the road will bring more resources to poor and rural communities and connect Bolivian communities in a manner that will improve the economy. Pretty much every Bolivian I have talked to about this matter, however, calls bullshit on the government's argument.

According to the Cochabambinos that I have spoken with, the road is a manifestation of the political control the Cocaleros (Coca growers) have on the government. The Coca Leaf is a plant grown in Bolivia (and other Latin American countries) with varying uses. Certain kinds of coca leaf are used for chewing, tea, and human consumption. Other kinds of coca leaf are used to create cocaine. And Bolivia is the third largest coca producer in the world. In the region surrounding Tipnis, the Cocaleros control nearly everything. They also do not produce the kind of coca that can be used for human consumption, and where their crop goes after it is harvested is a mystery to everyone... The argument of most Cochabambinos (and environmental organizations) is this: Evo Morales is a cocalero (this is not an argument so much as a fact since he self-identifies as such) and his administration is run based on the support of cocaleros. The cocaleros want a road that will make it easier to transport their coca crops, most of which is made into cocaine. Additionally, the cocaleros need to move off of their current land because the coca crop destroys the soil. You can only grow coca for 4-5 years (or harvests) before the soil is completely lifeless and unusable. Thus, coca plantations are constantly migrating, leaving a trail of destruction behind. If a road were to be built through Tipnis, the cocaleros could easily settle in this region and start new coca plantations. The weather and soil are ripe for coca growing and coca is an incredibly lucrative crop because of how much money the production of cocaine can produce. Environmentalist foresee this migration, and know that the Tipnis region will be destroyed if the cocaleros move in. Additionally, the indigenous communities in Tipnis don't want to the cocaleros in their communities because they do not want more drugs moving through the region. With drugs comes severe environmental impacts, not to mention violence and political corruption.

As of now, the indigenous communities have marched to La Paz (on FOOT) to protest the creation of this road. In return, the cocaleros have also marched. Construction has not started, but may be imminent. Thus, heavy political activity exists in Cochabamba in opposition to both the construction of the road and the corruption in the government based on the control of the cocaleros.

Ode to Julio

Our wonderful professor Julio Moreno is arriving in Cochabamba in a week! All of us are a little bit too excited about it. We decided to spell out his name using our arms in Toro Toro just to express how stoked we are.

Bitmaps

Somtimes when I am at work I play around in illustrator using bitmaps. I made these today. They are vectors, so potentially I could blow them up and actually print posters for my sweet SF apartment. It was an Albert Camus kind of today. 

Dinosaurs, Water Falls, and Tiny Bolivian Men

This past weekend I went on an adventure with my program to Toro Toro, which is both a Bolivian National Park and a small rural town. The weekend was amazing-- My first real outdoorsy trek in South America!

Day 1 started at the FSD office at 6am where we boarded our bus for our 5 hour journey to Toro Toro. The bus was pretty nice, but the roads were ghetto-fabulous (=bad roads). The drive is almost entirely weaving through mountain passes on dirt roads that drop off into steep cliffs. Our drive is a wizard, though-- he even managed to put our bus in reverse and back us up all the way along the cliff road for about 1/2 a Kilometer in order to let a truck pass by going the other way (these are one way roads).

We got to the little town of Toro Toro at about noon and ate lunch at the one (solitary) restaurant in the town. My favorite part of the town is the signs on the trash cans that say in English: "Please do not be friends with the trash." Our hostel was adorable and even came equipped with puppies:

Please ignore gross sweats and focus only on cute puppy.

We met our guide who was the cutest and tiniest Bolivian man ever. I'm not sure how old he was, but I know he has been a guide for 43 years. He is more spry than the swiftest mountain goat and very passionate about his work. Our adventure for Friday afternoon was hiking out to a Cave. When we arrived, we realized we were in for way more than just a Cave. The "caves" of Toro Toro are actually huge, nature-made tunnels that stretch for 32 Kilometers underground. The original river that formed the caverns still exists and runs through parts of the underground labyrinth. We all got headlamps and submerged into the darkness. We traversed for about 2 kilometers in total over about 4 hours. Sometimes we were on our stomachs, pulling ourselves through tiny crevices, other times the passages would open up into big, open spaces. We even saw fish in one of the underground pools. After we left the caverns we ran into some other American backpackers, masters students who were researching a series of underground tunnels across Latin America that they hypothesize are actually connected.

The first set of Dinosaur feet! Time stamped foreva.

Entrance to the caverns.

 Day 1 ended with a delicious dinner and a walk around the town. As it turns out, the few little tiny shops that do exist in the town close well before 9pm. We were tired and went to sleep pretty early. Day 2 started with breakfast: Api (a special Bolivian corn-based hot breakfast drink), egg sandwiches, and pastel (in this case, the Pastel was essentially funnel cake). Our guide led us to a hiking trail next to a huge canyon (not Grand Canyon status but still impressive). He showed us more Dinosaur footprints which really blew my mind... I can't believe such things exist in the world. We hiked out to a look-out spot first to get a sense of the depth of the canyon. After, we hiked down to the river below. We even went swimming! It was freezing, but still a lot of fun. The waterfalls in the canyon were beautiful and the hike was pretty invigorating. We got back to the town at about 3pm and ate lunch --rice, potatoes, and chicken-- the Bolivian way! We napped for a bit, had some reflection time with our program coordinators, and after dark walked down to the river and gathered under a bridge for an impromptu rap battle. The stars were... unbelievable. I don't know if I have ever seen so many stars in my whole life.

On our last day we woke up early early early and rode in the bus for about an hour up mountain after mountain, passing tiny little farm houses, herds of goats, and stretches of nature void of all humans. We got to the top of one of the peaks and hiked down into a new set of caverns. These caverns are not underground, but formed by huge boulders that create cathedral-style spaces. We hiked through several rock formations. The our guide managed to rig a rope/belt contraption so that all 13 of us could climb up the side of a sheer cliff to get to the very top of the mountain. I'm pretty shocked that nobody died, but please none the less. This hike was shorter and only lasted for about three hours. After returning to the town, we gathered our things from the hotel, and headed back across the windy, mountainous road en route to Cochabamba.

Above the clouds.

Queer.

It is astounding how connected the queer community is across the globe. The solidarity that exists amongst queer people consistently blows my mind. Last night, I attended the pride celebration in Cochabamba– the one day a year that gay, transgender, lesbian, bisexual, androgynous, queer, etc. people take the to the streets without fear or shame based on their sexual orientation or gender identity. The festival was amazing, inspiring, and empowering. I never expected to see so many people in the streets supporting the movement.

What’s more, however, is the sense of solidarity I feel with the queer people I meet in Cochabamba. This isn’t an isolated experience– anytime I have traveled and met other queer people, it’s the same feeling. Queers across the globe are one, interwoven community. No matter where you go, if there is a queer community and you are queer, you will be accepted. This is my experience, at least.

It’s hard to describe the experience of a transnational queer community to people who are not queer; because I can’t imagine anything quite the same exists. It’s this intrinsic understanding of respect when you meet people. No matter how alone I have felt at times this summer, or out of place I feel at straight, glamorous clubs (the type of place that checks my ID three times because my gender expression, age, and sex don't match), I know that if I can find that one queer bar, everything will be ok. Because people who are queer just get each other.

Every day in Cochabamba, somebody exclaims over my gender identity. “Lucas… why do you have a boys’ name?” or “You can’t be older than 14…” or “Are you male or female? I don’t understand.” Well, sir, I have a boy’s name because I chose that name. I’m 21 years old despite your disbelief. I am not really male or female and I would prefer not to educate you on the complexities of gender at this point in time.

But when you are in a queer place (a bar, a café, a street corner) nobody asks those questions. There is a sense of intrinsic respect for other human beings that goes so far beyond the consciousness of much of the non-queer community. No matter how ablaze in consternation your brain might be, it really just doesn’t matter if I am a boy or a girl and, yes, I do get asked that every day. But in the queer community there is this sentiment that it just doesn’t matter because we are human and we are all fighting for both internal and external acceptance because we are all different, and weird, and abnormal. And we all make people who are not like us just a little bit uncomfortable. And because we all experience this, we are close. Surrounded by a crowd of queer people last night –drag queens, transsexual women, young gay couples, and old gay couples, single lesbian mothers– I felt more connected to complete strangers who speak different languages, believe in different religions, and experience different realities, than I feel on a street corner in the United States surrounded by other English-speaking, white, middle-class Americans.

There’s something beautiful in our struggle. There’s something beautiful in the knowledge that no matter how despised, stupid, or wrong you feel, if you can just get to that place– that place in every city where a community of people who are different and yet all so the same gather– if you can get there, you will be OK. Somebody will understand you. Somebody won’t make a face when you introduce yourself or ask you why you are who you are or, better yet, what the hell you are.

I think one of the biggest gifts I have been given in my life is to be able to experience this sense of community from some of the people who are most marginalized in this world. Although all of our struggles are different, the queer community at its core is one accumulative struggle, rooted in solidarity.

Gender Identity Awareness Project

Phase one of the Gender Identity Awareness Project is almost complete! I just submitted the final draft of my trans info packet. The packet is displayed below. I designed the whole thing. It will be distributed with my documentary and separetely in high schools.

A Night of Pride

On Saturday, the LGBT community (emphasis on the T) took to the streets of Cochabamba for the annual pride march. The festivities centered around the transsexual female community and drag community. Thousands of people came out to watch the march and support the movement. It was an incredibly moving experience and accumlated in the best night I have had so far in Cochabamba.

The irony of it all is that so many Transsexual women took the streets and were supported by the community, when any other night, many of these women would be on streets in a very different context. On those nights, the discrimination against transsexual women runs rampant. In a society where Trans women have no employment options other than sex work, it is deeply upsetting to see the Cochabambino community support their neighbors for only one night a year. I couldn't help but think, "Tomorrow, these women will be out on the streets again, but there will not be a crowd cheering them on." 

Start of the march.

Glamorous.

The outfits were incredible.

Fierce!

Dancing to Gaga.

A Day In Cochabamba

An average day in my Cochabamba life:

Today I set my alarm for 7am, but was so tired and snoozed until the last possible second that I could get out of bed and still make it on time to work at 8:30. I try to walk a different route to work every morning to see the side streets of my neighborhood. This morning, since I was running late, I decided to take a bus. But I took the 208 instead of the 203 (signs are easily confused) and ended up somewhere completely different at about 8:45. I ended up taking a cab to work from I don't know where exactly. The truffis thwart me again!

In the morning, I worked on the packet I am creating as part of my Gender Identity Awareness Campaign. At 11, I went with my main-man (slash boss) Oscar to the main plaza to film some general B roll of the plaza for my documentary.

Sarah's host family invited me over for lunch, so I went to their house at about 12:30. The house is quite the spectacle. The design is really fascinating-- all of the rooms (bedrooms, kitchen etc.) open up into a big court yard that is covered in overgrown greenery and is also a storage space for a host of items including: old TVs, a stove, huge amounts of scrap metal, endless parts of furniture, really interesting artwork, and parrots. The family is incredibly nice and they joke with me a lot. We were not two seconds into lunch before the brothers (who are all in their 30s) started harping on me for not eating spicy food, then poured me a shot of some fermented alcohol that tasted like a mix of wine and four loko, then told me the best way to cook cow intestines. THEN they brought out the kittens.

There are so many animals in that house! The parrots, the kittens, the dogs, the two year old!

Moving along-- After my kitty snuggle session, I went back to work and edited some of the footage I have shot so far. After work I walked home, realized when I got home that my key to one of our locks was completely mangled, so I battled with the lock for about 15 minutes and finally got in the house. Next, I went to the gym and hit my record running of 25 minutes (It's HARD to run in this altitude, OK?) and lifted weights.

The truffi I needed to take to the FSD office wasn't coming, so I started walking. Surprisingly, I don't feel unsafe in Cochabamba at 9pm. At least not in the northern parts. I did, however, sprint across the bridge between the gym and the office because the Cleferos (glue sniffers) hang out under the bridge and are just itching to steal my iphone.

Lastly, I traversed to an Irish pub with Annie and Manuela to eat guacamole with french fries (go figure, everything here is served with potatoes. EVERYTHING) and drink a beer. I left smelling like smoke because every single person in Cochabamba smokes.

Tomorrow? Back to work! Saturday, going to a campo with Manuela to help her with a dental hygiene workshop. Sunday? Futbol!

Personal Growth

I have been in Bolivia for exactly one month. I feel like right now I am at a volatile point in this journey; the make-it or break-it point. I turned in my grant proposal, my project is solidified, and I'm knee deep in the production phase of my documentary.

When I am not working on my project, things are pretty slow at work, though, and I have an awful lot of time to think. Being alone with myself has never been a strong point for me. In San Francisco, I surround myself with people and projects and busyness constantly– and not by accident. I have never been the type of person who does well spending too much time in his own head. But being here in Cochabamba has kind of forced me to confront the side of myself that doesn't want to get too friendly with my sub conscious. Because my work here is essentially a solo project, I am alone pretty often. I hesitate to use the term "lonely" because being without other people does not mean one has to be lonely. What I am learning is that company can be found in a great variety of things, both internal and external. It doesn't have to be in the shape of close friends and family. It could be the person sitting next to you on the bus, or the kids playing at the playground you walk past on your way to work.

This sense of perspective is slowly inching its way into my mindset and it feels very liberating. When I interviewed a Trans activist yesterday, I heard detailed accounts of the lives of transsexual sex workers in Cochabamba. The lives of these people are packed full with violence, discrimination, and exploitation. I feel like throughout the interview I was battling with myself. When things got too real, too hard to handle, I would start to disassociate in a sense. I would think about my life in San Francisco and that my time here in Cochabamba is really just a short trip and I am not related to these people and don't have relationships with the person looking back at me through a camera lens. But then another part of me, the part of me I was trying to embrace, was letting myself feel that my experience in that exact moment was fully real and my relationship and connection to this woman was as real as my relationships with the people closest to me back in states. This sense of immersion was cropping up, even though my immediate mental reaction was to suppress it.

What I am learning here in Cochabamba has little to do with grant writing or NGO operation. Instead, I am learning a lot about patience, self-acceptance, and uncertainty. And more than that, being OK with being patient, being OK with myself, and being OK with daily uncertainty.

Unrelated, I went to a documentary screening at an arts center this evening of a film about the Sex Pistols. How strange to experience that in Cochabamba!

Pride and Progress

This blog is a bit off-topic and not inherently related to my time in Bolivia. However, today is a really big day back in the states! This afternoon a film I made last fall Social Notworking (Watch Here) is screening at a student film festival in Hollywood. Luckily, my awesome friend/assistant director/screen writer Vicki and our stupendous leading actress Dana are able to attend the festival since I cannot! Additionally, Dana is up for the Best Actress award at the festival. I'm so proud of our team and I hope everyone who reads this is sending good vibes their way!

Secondly, this weekend is Pride in San Francisco and it's the first time since I moved to San Francisco that I have not attended. Thinking about the Pride festivities makes me really reflect on the status of human, social, and civil rights around the world. Living in San Francisco can be such a bubble of acceptance and tolerance. Sometimes I forget to appreciate the beauty of the San Francisco community and the luck I have experienced in being able to live there.

Here in Cochabamba I see the huge disparity in rights between the queer community and the cis-gender, heterosexual community. In Uganda, people are being killed for being Gay. In most of Latin America, there is no word for 'heteronormativity' because there is nothing to oppose it. It's hard to define something when it appears to be part of the very fabric of our being.

I was watching Harvey Milk's Hope Speech today and feeling very inspired. Because I do have hope. I have a lot of hope for the future of Latin America and the ability for tolerance and respect to develop. I have hope that marriage equality will become a reality in the United States. I have hope that every year, fewer and fewer gay youth will commit suicide, until finally, a year goes by where no gay youth commit suicide. We are not there, yet, though. Suicide is a reality, hate crimes are a reality, and second class citizenship is a reality in 2012.

I hope, though, that I am contributing to making 2013 a year of progress.

Happy Pride <3

Evo.

I just returned from a meeting with my boss and, somehow, she has approved my project! I just finished a draft of my grant for funding for distribution of the project and titled it the Gender Identity Awareness Project. It will be completed in two parts. First, a short documentary about the experience of Trans individuals in Cochabamba in the realms of health care, human rights, and social stigma. Second, I will be creating an information packet about Trans identities that will be distributed both with the film and as a separate entity.

I am Stoked. 

Moving along...

Have you ever thought to yourself, "What the hell is the deal with Evo Morales?" Probably not, I guess. However, it's been a common thought in my head lately. Evo Morales is the President of Bolivia. He is a member of the MAS (essentially "socialist movement"). He didn't go to college. He is from the campo and identifies with indigenous communities (although he is not actually Indigenous). And debate over his presidency runs fiercer and deeper, and splayed with more propoganda, than the U.S. debates over George W. Bush.

It seems like every single person in Cochabamba has an extremely strong opinion about Evo and there are only two opinions to pick from: Love him or Hate him. Pretty much all of the host families that FSD interns are staying with hate Evo with a burning passion. Their explainations vary. For my host family specifically, they are disgusted by Evo because of his complete lack of education and insight. They talk often about how he offers incentives to campesinos who will march to Cochabamba or La Paz or any given cause and show him support. He will do things like build a soccer stadium or give a bunch of bread to the campo if all of the residents march. What he doesn't do, however, is increase infrastructure, find a way to get water to the campos, or invest in long-term development. For my host family, this is a problem. Other people seem to strongly dislike him for more anti-indigenous sentiments, and still others because he hurts international business opportunities.

However, when I drive out to rural areas with IDH for our sexual health workshops, the dirt roads are lined with spray painted Pro-Evo signage. The campesinos seem to love him. I can't figure out if it is because of lack of education and blind faith in the government that claims to be "pro-campo" or if he has actually helped the campos' standard of living increase. 

Before coming to Bolivia, I felt like I had read a lot about Evo's government and felt somewhat in favor of his regime change from his neoliberal predecessors. But now, all of that is in question. Poverty has not reduced in Bolivia during Evo's Presidency (since 2006), laws have been cohersively made to extend Evo's term in office, in fact my host family told me flat out that they don't know when the next election in Bolivia might be held. Additonally, Evo publicly stated that he thinks that eating chicken causes homosexuality. I have a serious problem with this.

But rather than assert my own views about his policies, I find it more fascinating to observe the country in a state of such political angst. The wealthier, city-dwellers seem almost hopeless in their discussion of Evo, my host family talks more of emigrating from Bolivia than actually fighting against Evo's administration. Additionally, the campos are so covered with Evo paraphenalia that it seems almost contrived. Is Evo a populist? A narcissist? Intentionally deceitful or filled with positive intentions? I'm not sure if I will ever really know.

Trans* and Transportation

Yesterday, I met with a woman named Rayza who is MTF and currently fighting for her legal name change in Cochabamba (it's not legal anywhere in Bolivia). I met with her to discuss the documentary I am creating about the Trans community. I want her to be my main story line because she is the biggest activist here in Cochabamba and is really well known in the community. She reviewed my proposal and was very interested and willing to help. Some of the things she talked about as far as the Trans community goes:

• It is much safer in Cochabamba to be FTM than MTF because of the machismo attitudes of most men. There is much more likely to be violence against a person intentionally not displaying their masculinity.
• Her biggest goal for the documentary was to expose the difference between what I think is essentially "drag" culture (or what she called "transformativos") and people who identify as transsexual or transgender. She explained that the general population of Bolivia tends to think that people who are Trans are people who decide to "cross-dress," but that they population doesn't have any understanding of actual trans identities-- i.e. People who were born into bodies that do not fit their emotional or mental identity. 
• The biggest legal fight right now for the Trans community is to legalize name changes for Trans people. This is even more difficult in Bolivia, however, because of the issue of lack of documentation for much of the population. A lot of people don't have identity cards/birth certificates/etc. to begin with. The second fight is to promote inclusive policies in the work place to ensure that no one is fired from their job based on gender identity.

On a different note, I took some (not that good) pictures of the various kinds of transportation I take yesterday. 

A "Micro" bus w/ a set route around the city. You hail the bus from the side of the street and hopes it stops for you! 1.70bs/ride

The white car is a "Taxi," but a sketch one. A lot of cars but a sticker that says Taxi on their windshield, but they are not actually part of a company or anything.

The front end of a Truffi bus. A VW-esque van with extra seats. It drives a set route and you also hail it from the sidewalk. Normally they are PACKED.