Friday

Yesterday, we caught a seven person van back from Samaipata to Santa Cruz. It was cozy- there were ten adults crowded in! Luckily we did have a good driver though and so we avoided the terror that we had on the way to Samaipata. Part way back, in a mountain valley, near a stream and steep rock cliffs, all the traffic had to stop for 45 minutes for road work. Immediately the vendors appeared-- People carrying bowls and baskets and coolers. After a vendor had walked further along, the ground would be littered with all the wrappers of whatever people had bought. Is this just my ethrocentricity showing??

I did do four quartersheet paintings in Samaipata. Painting on location in an unfamiliar country is fraught with nervous worry. People tend not to want their image painted and the buildings tend to be flat and brown on the outsides with anything interesting- flowers, washing, pigs etc., all tucked inside inner courtyarts. And in a high valley, with altidude the lighting is often flat. Anyways, once I have a subject and a spot and I am plunked on my little stool (compliments of Shelley Austin of Sea Shell Design) then I´m usually just fine and I enjoy myself. In a few minutes, I´m usually surrounded by admirers watching my entertainment. The other day, when I painted in the main square, one of the post carnival cleaner-uppers became my front man. He gathered folks around me and then proceeded to point at everything in my painting by touching it with his nail on a stick. All the while, I continued to paint!

The day before, I had about a dozen kids for the afternoon. Most stared with big dark eyes but one little girl was a lively chatterbox with an enormous smile. She rushed home and came back with her ¨Learn to speak English book¨ She annouced Ït is five oclock!" " No" I laughed, "it is three oclock" and we proceeded to chat for the afternoon. By the time she introduced me to her mother and father :¨"Joy, Mother Father" she knew my brother and sister´s names and ages and lots of other random details.

In Santa Cruz, the city is trying to clean up after canival. Most of the buildings need repainting because of all the paint guns. A huge workforce is rewhitewashing the buildings and cleaning the streets. We are also back to the constant horn honking. One chap was crossing himself as he drove by the cathedral, at the same time he was laying on his horn to help more the traffic along! The sidewalks are crowded. Among the brown skinned dark haired Bolivians, there are some skinny, fair skinned, blue eyed menonites with dark severe clothing and sour expressions. Also there are a few nuns wandering around in their habits (and using the internet cafes). So often I´ve seen a short Bolivian girl from the back, with long black braids, wearing a straw hat, and a knee length gathered skirt with an apron tied over and I´ve thought of Anne Shirley. Then they turn around and I see their old wrinkled faces and hands and I realize that these are not young girls! Jim and I always smile and coo at Bolivian babies and kids. It usually backfires. When the babies are old enough to really look at us, they usually recoil in horror and they cry and scream. They find our ¨"üniform" of battered hats, tee shirts, shorts and our old white faces just so different.

Later today we are catching the Train of Death towards Brazil and by tomorrow we will be leaving Bolivia for another year! I have some buns to eat, some bottled water, our bug suits, insect repellent and a cheery disposition ready for the trip!