Recently

Work has slowed way down. The snow from last Wednesday and Saturday has managed to stick around, and our company has to wait for it to disappear before we can do many of our jobs. So far this week, I have worked 4 total hours. It's supposed to get a bit warmer, so hopefully the work comes back....

My weekends continue to get more fun. Last weekend, I played paintball on Saturday for most of the day, while it was dumping snow. We had about 15 guys, so it turned out to be some great games. No big welts for me, but I got plenty of shots that did not feel so good. Then on Saturday night, a few of us got dressed up, and went down to Denver for a play. Of course, Sunday is reserved for NFL football and nothing else (besides church). The Bears offense....no Rex Grossman....makes me want to vomit. I have to make sure to watch him on an empty stomach, because every time he drops back to pass, my stomach drops, and my heart decends into where my stomach once was.

me, callie, brent, and jen taking the light rail on our way downtown to the Martini Ranch

Husky Mountain Liver Love

I've had some good stories as of late. Some of when things go wrong in life, or seem to go wrong, and others of just what I've been doing. I thought I might share them with you.

1. I'm sure many of you remember a couple of years ago when I was bitten by one of our Bolivian pets. The little Bolivian squirrel monkey, Doce, did not like to be taken off of our shoulders. When he was, he would often bite our hands, drawing little bits of blood, thus making us get our Rabies vaccination down in the city. Well, I have been bitten by another animal from Bolivia. This time, a Husky. When we were in Bolivia, Brent bought a Husky named Quinoa and brought it back to the states. It is a friendly dog and well trained. Since living with Brent, I have spent quite a bit of time playing with Quinoa and hanging out with him when home. He most likely remembers me from when he was a puppy, because he was warm with me and listened to me the minute I saw him out in Denver. After work one day, I came home, let Quinoa inside, and took a shower. When I got out, I saw him at the foot of Brent's bed, so I went in to pet him. The moment I put out my hand, he growled and gripped my hand so hard with his jaw that I fell to the floor, as he twisted my arm. I yelled his name, and seconds later, he had released my hand, and sat there next to me as I assessed the damage. 3 puncture wounds on the palm of my hand that were literally squirting blood, and multiple minor punctures on the backside of my hand. At the moment, I thought my hand was broken because most of the pain was coming from the bones in my hand, not the punctures. I decided to first take care of the deep punctures, so I went into my room, got the super glue, and threw a little bit of that into the cut (after cleaning it out of course). Interestingly enough, Quinoa followed me the whole time with his tale down. Once the super glue had been applied, I laid down on my couch for a while and made some phone calls. Quinoa followed me into my room, and laid down right next to me on his back and covered his eyes with his paws.

Although it took a couple of days to get full mobility back into my hand, the punctures are still more than visible. I would take a picture of them now, but I do not have the chord to put my pictures from the camera to the computer. Lesson Learned: DO NOT TRY TO PET QUINOA WHILE HE IS AT THE FOOT OF BRENT'S BED. IT IS THE ONLY PLACE THAT HE IS TERRITORIAL, AND HE WILL DEFEND IT.

2. Last week, the week of Thanksgiving, I went out to Glendale Springs for 3 days. Our company had a job there, and they decided to send my crew, being I have the youngest crew and we are mostly without families. It was about a three hour drive into the mountains, and we stayed there over night on Monday and Tuesday. The crew I had was Antonio, Noe, and Geronimo. We had the task of putting about 55 blankets on slopes to stop the eriosion that was taking place. This involved grading the slopes, then trenching the upper end of the slope, seeding and raking the slopes (in hope that grass will grow there, using the roots to stop sliding), and then blanketing the slopes (a physical way of stopping erosion until grass grows. Each blanket is about 110 feet, and we had three days to put in all of them. Normally, 50 blankets in one day would not be that big of a deal, but the problem was the ground. At night, the ground in the mountains freeze. I'de say here in Glenwood it would freeze 4-5 inches every night. I had my crew get up at 6 the on Tuesday morning to start working (monday we didn't show up in Glenwood till 11), but it turned out to be a lot more difficult than anticipated. Everything was frozen. There was no way to trench, and there was no way to rake the ground, let alone grade it. We attempted to trench and prepare as much as we could, but until 11 am (when the ground had almost thawed) it was really slow work. The only problem was, that the sun in the mountains falls behind the western slopes at about 4, and gets dark shortly thereafter. So we had to use the truck lights well into the night so that we could get the work done before the ground froze again. We got it all done by Wednesday afternoon, and then Noe hooked up the trailer wrong, and it came off before we left, and tore out the light cables to the trailer. We had to fix that, and then got home at about 9pm after a full 40 hours of work in 3 days. Lesson Learned: WORKING IN THE MOUNTAINS SUCKS.

3 For those of you who remember my Hepatitis A problem of last year, it has started to come back more frequently than I anticipated. I'm not sure why. My best guess is the amount of physical work that I sometimes have to do has something to do with it. Everytime I run, play basketball, football, or anything of the physically exerting nature, I seem to get sick with stomach nausea and pain the following day. I thought that all of this would be over by now, but it isn't, and it is quite frustrating. I'm not sure whether to get another job, or just wait all of this out. Who knew the liver was so important anyways????

I Wish I Had Pictures

Today was a day that I never expected. I'm not sure how to even describe it because it came as such a shock. A good one I guess, I'm really not sure because I haven't had the time to really think about it. Maybe I'll figure it out as I write about it now...

Last night, Randy called me up and asked me if I wanted to attend his church this morning. Randy is a Youth for Christ missionary that I knew while in Bolivia, and he is back in Denver for a few week vacation before he heads back (many of you may recall the 180 bus trip I took with Randy over Christmas). Youth for Christ actually had about 5 short-timers work for them while I was there, and they are all from the Denver area and currently living here. I couldn't really hear Randy too well on the phone and all that he was saying (i understood he was going to share a little bit), but I got the name of the church and decided I would go visit it. Pretty typical behavior really, visit a bunch of churches when you first move to a place...

This morning I showed up maybe 15 minutes late to the service, and didn't have the time to find Randy and the other YFC missionaries so I just sat down somewhere in the middle. About 5 minutes later, I noticed 5 people up front with hooded sweatshirts and baseball caps under the pulled hoodies. My heart literally skipped a beat, and not because I was scared or anything like that. They looked exactly like how the shoe shiner guys dressed in La Paz. Spitting image. They even had the cloths that wrapped around their face, so that only their eyes could be seen. It took me back to Bolivia so quickly that I almost couldn't believe it. It was almost overwhelming. It made me want to be back in La Paz at that instant. Later they got up, and Randy shared about his ministry with the shoe shiners of La Paz. It was strange to probably be the only person in the congregation that knew exactly what he was talking about and who he was talking about and why he had chosen the things he was talking about. It made me miss a life that now feels so distant, yet at times like this morning so near. It made me think of a lot of my students. to name a few who might read this blog, dan, diego, matheo, jose manuel, juan manuel, pablo, berman, sarah, andy, horacio, iara, cecy, mia, oneide, alex, lucas, alex l., dulce, heber, juan felipe, jeremy, and the list goes on and on.

Everyone puts their time in this life at a different place, with different people. While todays images took me back to a different time, it reminded and challenged me to really live WITH the people that are around me. Not above them or on a different plane, but in the same place, with the same struggles and pains, and with the same dreams and hopes. It can really be done anywhere, even though days like today made me feel temporarily like my place is supposed to be in Bolivia.

There is a reason they were dressed as shoe shiners this morning, just as there is a reason as to why they shine shoes with these guys in the streets of La Paz. They did an excellent job of reminding me on a day I was not expecting to be reminded...

Undercover

Yesterday the first snow storm of the year came to Denver with about 3 or 4 inches. While last night I had the hope of a reprieve from work, today I showed up to the yard only to be sent off to a job site north of the city to work in the snow. It was cold to say the least, and in only a few hours it turned into a muddy mess that I had to put up with for the next 10 hours.

Although I hate my job, I've decided to stick with it for as long as I'm able. I guess I have a weird attraction to things that suck and the pain that it causes. I'm thinking that the attraction might be the desire to understand a life that I could never live because of the place and time I was born...

I'm an undercover police officer. Two of the guys I've been working with for the last few weeks (Jose and Ignacio) told me last week that when I started with the company, they were convinced I was undercover. Apparently I've been looking for drug dealers and mexicans without their green cards for the last 6 weeks. While I could try to convince them that I am not in fact undercover, I've decided to keep my identity a mystery, and just kind of shrug my shoulders when they talk about it. They told me today that they think they were wrong, because no pig would stay undercover at a job like this for so long. My name is no longer "guerro" when I work with Jose and Ignacio, but "Undercover". While they've tried to keep their distance from me, I've started to get to know their stories, and when the time is right, I will share more about these two interesting characters I have come to call "Paranoids".

Internet Access for me is back...

I just moved into Brent's place yesterday, and I once again have internet which means I will be able to start posting again. I know most of you don't believe that I will actually follow through and post as often as I once did, but the truth is I still have stories, and you all are wrong once again.

After staying at Marky and Lindsey's for a couple of weeks, I moved in with two friends (Callie and Emily) for the last few weeks. It was a lot of fun, although the apartment was always clean, everything always smelled good, and they often cooked dinner at night.

WORK. That's basically all I do, and nothing in that regard has changed since the last time I posted. I still drive to work before the sun starts to show itself, and I still come home after the sun has set. I really do hate the hours. Tomorrow I have a meeting with one of the main guys in the office who is in charge of the field because I have some issues with the company already. My problem is this. Everyone is ALWAYS on us to get things done faster. That's all I hear all day. FASTER FASTER FASTER. APURATE APURATE APURATE. The problem is, after working for 10 hours, there is no such thing as faster, there is only a slow and mechanical death that the body takes on. I equate it to the Marathon distance: If I have run 20 miles very hard every weekday, there is a positive chance the last 6 miles will not be as fast every day. It's called physical exertion, and each person only has so much, especially if it's being done every single day. The old work phrase "you're not working fast enough" loses all meaning, because OF COURSE I'M NOT WORKING AS FAST! Anyways, that's what I'm going to talk to the office about tomorrow, cause I'm sick of hearing it.

hasta la victoria

Denver, Aqui Estoy

I've been in Denver almost exactly a week now. I arrived safely last Saturday to the Meyers, after getting a speeding ticket in Iowa, and had only a day before work started. The company I'm working for is Down to Earth Compliances, and is mainly an erosion-control company that works with storm water. I wish I could say that I am fascinated by the methods in which we control erosion, but it's really not that interesting. There is a lot of digging, a lot of hard manual type activities, without a lot of machinery. I did get to use the 4-wheeler and bobcat a little this week, but otherwise it's just labor. AND A LOT of labor it is. Between Monday and Friday of this week, I put in about 65 hours of work (approximately 13 hours a day). I get up at 5:30 am, and get back between 6pm and 8pm. Then I go to bed, and repeat the process the next day. My spanish is improving daily, as I am the only white person at the company that doesn't work in the office. That's right, me and 30 Mexicans are out on the field doing the work. My name has officially been changed from Jon to whatever they want to call me.....usually something that I have no idea how to spell in Spanish so I'm just going to phinetically spell it in English----- "Where-o". It means white skinned person or something like that, kind of like Gringo. I, in return, have started calling them by whatever name I feel like too. For instance, my boss for the week (I'm going to be a crew leader starting this next week) was named Omar and he is a tiny little Mexican probably about 5 foot nothing. Therefore I call him "tiny dark skinned Mexican". Most of them don't speak much English at all, so I spend the day speaking Mexican and trying to teach them Spanish.

This weekend I'm going to try to learn the area a little bit better. I went with Mark last Sunday into the mountains and we climbed up St. Mary's glacier which is the southern most glacier in the states and pretty sad looking as I'm guessing there is only a couple years left of its existence. Brent and friends went into the mountains this weekend to do some hiking, but I needed a bit of rest so I stayed back. All of my soreness has disappeared, and the work should get easier now that my body has adjusted back to the hard manual labor that I once performed in Seattle (pipeline construction).

Until later.

over the road block, on the move

The time for me has come, once again, to pack up the bags and get on the road.

The destination: Mountains (any will do)
The objective(s): Stay alive (almost always a primary objective). Not get Hepatitis B or C
The reason: I have an issue with staying in one place for too long
The result of leaving: More stories from the mountainsides

So this coming weekend, I leave for Denver, Colorado. I finish my job here in Chicago on Friday, and start my job in Denver on Monday. Some people might wonder why I always have to be going somewhere, and some might even venture to guess that I am running from something, maybe my own shadow. But I assure you, there is no running. I'm going at a slow jog. No, I'm going at a relaxed walk, with my sandals on (my broken sandals that I got for 1 sol at the beach of Mollendo in Peru). You see, I'm a person of experience and stories. I enjoy meeting new people, exploring new areas, and gaining insight from the perspectives of people that live in different places. I know the Chicago mind-set, and although I like it and have adopted it as my own, I want to know others and experience those.

Ok fine, that's all a bunch of crap. I'm going because the flatlands of the midwest are slowly killing my eyesight. In order to correct my vision, I need some up and down on the terrain so that my depth perception can be enhanced and my eyes live on.

I will definately miss some things about being in Chicago and working at Forming America. I will miss a few of the mexicans that I work closely with every day and the smile that they bring to my face when I see that they spell "Josh" as "Yaz" on their cell phone because that's how they pronounce it in the Mexican alphabet (very different than the Spanish alphabet). I will miss having Andre teach me "Mexican slang", and lie to me about the meaning, so that when I use the word every Mexican within hearing distance can't stop laughing. By the way, do not call a Mexican Bajiado (sp?). I'm still not quite sure of the exact meaning of that word, but Andre told me to tell Samuel that he was Bajiado, and Samuel got offended, and Andre laughed his guts out for the next hour, maybe longer. I will miss stopping by my mom's house whenever I feel like it. And I will especially miss pissing off my great sister who has let me use her basement for the past few months. Don't worry Christie, the OWNER of the REMOTE CONTROL will soon be gone. Just remember who's stronger. Mom always told you as a kid we boys would be bigger some day, and you would have to pay the consequences. Consider it paid...

So expect this blog to come back to life with pictures and thoughts, now that I am leaving this eye-killing place that I refer to as the "MidWest".

-Go Cubbies
-Go Bears
-Go Bulls
-BOOOOOOOOOO White Sox
-BOOOOOOOOOO Green Bay
-BOOO every other sporting team outside of Chicago
-Mixed emotions to Rockies and Broncos

Hell on Earth, Intolerance, Heaven on Earth

The days have been brutal. Hot, sticky, humid, rainy, and freakin hot. You name it and Chicago has had it in the last few weeks. I've been running on the fumes from the heat of the day, half-heartedly hoping that it will break, and at times loving every degree and what it does to my soul. It's difficult to begin to describe the hell on earth that I've experienced, and the fact that I partially and secretly enjoyed it.

I have a friend who hates infestations beyond almost anything else. On Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of last week I worked in East Dundee on moving almost 100,000 pounds of concrete forms back to West Chicago, each form weighing nearly 100 lbs. I was excited, hard work means more pay and time goes faster the more you do and the harder you work . The problem became the unbelievable amount of bees. Millions of bees had made there homes in the forms, and when we started moving forms, they got pissed. They were EVERYWHERE. Every minute of the 12 hour days were spent with 100 bees in my face, and a good 15 bees on my body, at the minimum. It was impossible to look 5 feet in front of you without seeing hundreds of bees, and millions in the background. This is not an exageration. I have bee stings everywhere, and it just became part of my day to get stung and try to ignore the bees in front of my eyes. I HATE BEES, and could not ignore them. Along with the 100 degree heat, it quickly became what I describe as Hell on Earth.

I've realized more and more lately that I am a very intolerant person. I cannot handle bad drivers, red lights, and workers who endanger me by not knowing how to best do something. I drive our trucks around, and have to deal with these drivers who just can't drive....and I get agitated. Then I get a red light and along comes more agitation and more of the realization that I am super intolerant to the basic everyday happenings. And then I come across the guy that can't use the bobcat forks to load my truck up. Just let me do it, so I can get back on the road, get angry at the red lights, and more agitated at the drivers that can't make the right move. That way I can get back to the yard quicker, drop off the load, pick up another load, and get back on the road . I want to do it quickly, as if the agitation will be less if it happens quicker. It's really a beautiful system in my head, except it doesn't work out on the practical side because I just end up spending more time on the road, and meet more people with the inability to load a truck. But I can't slow down because I'm intolerant. What a terrible attribute to have developed in the past few weeks.

Now I'm hanging out with my brother, Nickie, Mikey Krone, Hannah, and Kristen in Cincinnati, and I have tolerance again. Everything is relaxed, everything is fun, everything is just perfect. These are the times I enjoy, and people that I love. I got to see the Wende family from Bolivia yesterday up in Dayton, OH. We talked, and I played with the kids. Dasha sat on my lap and told me stories and secrets, while Ian and Michael tried to shoot me with their BB gun. Now I can't tell what are bee stings and what are the BB shots. They run together and now I smile as I look down at my legs and think of them. This is Heaven on Earth. People make this place beautiful, the very same people who I have the audacity to get angry at every day. Reality and the people that bring me to this clarity is my Heaven on Earth.

Wedding, and Denny's

Dave and Nickie

I've actually had a lot to write about, it's just that I'm never near the internet to write about it. There's some good stories from Cincy, and then of course my bro's bachelor party, but those seem so long ago I probably won't do a good job of recalling the details. So I'll just tell the most recent. I'm calling it the "Wedding, and Denny's", because that's exactly what it is, Dave's wedding, and then a good Denny's story that could only happen to me. Of course I will spend most of the time on the Denny's story *make sure to read story below

Dave and Nickie's (whom I will from here on out call Big Nic) wedding was a blast for me. I can't remember a time when I've been more excited for a weekend. Big Nic is the girl for Dave, and Dave is the guy for her, so I was just happy for it all to finally happen. I came in on Friday morning, and Dave, my dad, me and little Mark went and tried on the tux's. Good thing we did, cause Dave had pants with a size 38 waist. After that, we had some time to kill, so Dave and I took a nap (I was actually quite sick, suffering from a Hep A relapse). When we woke up, it was go time. We had the rehearsal, and then the rehearsal dinner. At the rehearsal dinner everyone had a time to tell stories about Dave or Big Nic, but I bowed out saying I wanted to save my voice for the following day. It was hilarious to hear all the stories, and of course to finally get a good nickname for Nickie. At about 10, it was time for people to get going, so we all went up to our hotel rooms, leaving everyone behind. Of course all of the groomsmen wanted to party in our room cause we had a deck, but after a little bit of conversation Dave and I decided to get them out so that he could have a good night sleep. That's just what big bro's do I guess. We threw a couple back on the deck, had a couple of sticks, talked a bit, and then headed to bed. The wedding day was beautiful. I don't have any pictures of the ceremony yet, but soon enough I will post them. Little Mark did, however, yell out in the middle of their ceremony that his pants were hot, and then came up to the groomsmen and sat down at my feet and proceeded to talk. Nothing you can do about an energetic 5 year old at a wedding. The reception was fun, I gave the Best Man speech which seemed to go better than planned, and then Jenna gave the Maid of Honor speech which also seemed to go better than planned. We decorated their car by putting a tree on the top of it, and then of course plastered it with sexual content and writing. Good times, Good times.

*
Now for my typical "I almost got shot" story. I'm going to start off by saying, I think I almost got shot. You see after the wedding, some of us decided to go out for the night. Some of us being me, Krone, Carter, Jenna, Kristen, Hannah (sp?), Kasperson, Cornmen, etc. The wedding had ended by like 5:00, so we went back, got a hotel room, played some games, and then went dancing until about 3:00 in the morning. After the dancing, some of us decided we were hungry, so we went and stopped by the local Denny's. It was only Kristen, Carter, Hannah, Jenna, Krone, Kasperson, and myself at this point. We got a table, and Jenna and Kasperson decided they weren't hungry, so they headed back to the Red Roof Inn (one block away). Krone went outside for a smoke, so only four of us were left at the table. All of a sudden, two big African American men came up to our table, obviously high or drunk, and demanded that we give back their cellphone because they had left it at our table. I gently told them we didn't have it, and they basically told us Bullshit. I didn't know what to say after that, so I just kind of sat there looking up at these guys. Then they just started to scream, WHERE THE F@#$ IS IT, WHO THE F$#@ HAS IT? I KNOW ONE OF YOU CRACKER A@@ MOTHERF@#$$#@ HAS IT, SO JUST TELL US. NOW. Now you might think I'm exagerating, but I'm really not. This is how it went down. It was unbelieavable how loud they were yelling at us, one of them in particular. Denny's, by the way, is completely full, we even had to wait for a table. At this point, the whole restaraunt is completely still and quiet, listening to the action at our table. You would think after the above statements they had for us, they would quit. But oh no, it had just started. They screamed at us for a good 5 minutes, maybe longer. They even knew we were staying at the Red Roof Inn cause they saw "two white people" leave the restaraunt and go over there (Jenna and Kasperson). They were screaming their lungs out wanting to know what room we were in, because they just KNEW that someone had their cell phone. I sarcastically told them that didn't just have one room, but "A LOT" of rooms, so "they had their work cut out for them". They didn't appreciate that comment, and the swears just kept coming. I've never heard such racial slurs, or profanity, thrown out so frequently in a sentence. Then, Krone came back in from his smoke, and noticed the whole place quiet with some African American guys at our table screamin their heads off (or their lungs out, depending on how you want to look at it). Krone came over, and it even got worse. Now these guys were threatening to SHOOT us. At this point, I'm pretty sure the manager had already called the cops, but I saw a bunch of people at tables nearby pick up their cell phones to call cops. Two minutes later, the cops were there, and the guys got arrested for threatening to kill us. They asked us if we wanted to press charges, but we gracefully declined, hoping they would remain in jail until we left the following morning.

more to come, don't give up on this blog yet.

the ole' jack is back, y pensamientos de iglesia

I got a job that starts tomorrow. After last summer I promised myself I wouldn't do this type of work again, but with the return of my health also comes the return of my brashness, although I'm sure some would rather call it my stubborness. I'm stubborn????? It just feels so good to be able to move again without any pain or tiredness that I want to use it at every opportunity. I've been working out every day, sometimes twice a day, and I feel strong enough to go back and pick up the ole' jack hammer and see how my body reacts. Maybe my back is finally up for the challenge, maybe not. I'm sure most of my students have a smile across their face right now reading that I will be using the gigantic hammer that I described to them in detail, vowing that I would never return to such a torturous mechanism. Well, I am....so wipe that smile off your faces.

One of the most shocking parts of being back in the states is church. Actually, overwhelming is probably a better word than shocking. This last Sunday as I sat there and listened to the music I realized how easy it was to say and sing the words without really understanding the words and without much of a thought as to what the words were saying. It was in English, and I could recite them without so much of a thought. I couldn't help but to wonder how much of the congregation felt the same way. Then came the sermon. I felt like a spectator on the outside looking in on some crazy folk, lined up in pews, comatosed, listening to a guys rambling. For some reason my mind could not stay focused, and just wandered aimlessly back to my churches in Bolivia, to how different it all was. The things people deal with are just so different across cultures, across continents, across ethnicities, etc. At least that's how I felt. The sermon was about Deciphering the Da Vinci Code, part one of four that will be dealt to the congregration over the next month. I assume that there is a need amongst the congregation to deal with the topic, to clear up some questions, and to logically hear responses to the claims (if the author had any) that the book suggests. But I couldn't stay focused as my mind wandered aimlessy. I would bet money on the fact that nobody from my Bolivian Church in El Alto will ever hear of the Da Vinci Code. Even if they did, would they give it more than a moment of their attention? I'm guessing not.

I'm not trying to insinuate that one church is doing something right and another is doing something wrong, or that I enjoy one style over the other, because I understand a little as to why both churches do it the way they do. I've just been struck over and over again on the complex differences that this world shares on worshipping the same God. It blows my mind, and often times saddens my heart, that while one church rejoices over the addition of a hundred bricks to their bathroom, another church rejoices over building a new, multi-million dollar complex. It all seems so different on the outside, doesn't it? One church deals with an adobe wall surrounding the church, mixing cement with their hands and hopefully receiving enough in their offering plates to feed the pastor and buy a few bricks. Another church deals with cleaning their carpets, finding more parking space, and hopefully breaking ground at the site of a new church location. It made me think, though, how different is it on the inside, at the level of the individual, at the level of the human condition, so to speak? Both congregations are worshipping God. One person says, "Te Adorare", and another says "I will worship you". One for the food, the other for a new car. One deals with pride, and so does the other. One tries to control his own life, while the other can't seem to surrender his whole being. Same thing.

While my mind wandered and began to seep in these thoughts, some peace came with it. I guess it still leaves a lot out there for me to think about. All I know is that the overwhelming church experience has only just started for me, the day I visited a church in El Alto that had to little, yet so much to be thankful for.

Chickenlypse- A story from Days at TU

The world loved chicken: chicken and rice, chicken and mushroom sauce, chicken and . . . and anything! The world ate chickens faster than they could lay eggs. There was a depletion that grew into a famine until only two chickens remained. Those two escaped to Peru and lived out their lives safely under the Peruvio-Amerio-Non-Extradition Act.
It was a sunny afternoon in Greenville, Minnesota, and an out-of-work mad scientist named Pete Moss strolled into a local cafe. He took a seat on a stool at the end of the bar. "My good fellow, might I have a grilled chicken sandwich?"
"Ha," sneered the server, "did chickens have lips?"
"Well, no, but they could if they were genetically re-engineered. What are you getting at?"
"Man, we don't have any chicken!" He turned and mumbled, "Crazy fool, chickens could never have lips."
Pete could not help but be hurt at the statement he had heard the waiter mutter under his breath. The scientist had always considered himself an expert at charting the waters of the gene pool. "Anything is possible with science," he grumbled. "Now how about some fried chicken strips?"
"Look man, the chickens are gone! This selfish world ate them all man, without even blinking. It's the chicken apocalypse I tell you. Now, how about some tuna, man?"
The complex mind of the professor raced: "Hmmmmm, half tuna, half man, this would be an interesting experiment . . . . OH! lunch." He squeezed his lips tightly together and squinted, contemplating the question. Like a small child hanging precariously on a cliff stretching for his rescuer's hand, Pete stammered the words that represented his last glimpse of hope, "Chicken salad?"
His feeble attempt for deliverance was met only by a scowl from the cafe employee. Pete wandered home in disbelief. He had read the newspaper articles, but finally, reality struck. At home he poured out his heart with all its sorrows to his wife.
"Oh, honey, that's awful," she sympathized. "What if I fix you some frog legs, dear?"
"Hmmmmmmm, a deer with frog legs? Difficult, but I think I could do it if I . . ."
A half an hour later, his wife placed a plate of frog legs in front of him. He cautiously took a bite with uncertainty. "It . . . It tastes like chicken . . . but it's not!" and he broke down and cried.

These soul-searching events gave Pete a purpose. He must use his scientific expertise to bring back the forever lost, exotic creature, the chicken. His zealous experiments drove him late into the night, working on a seemingly impossible task. Tackling the challenge head-on, he decided not only to genetically re-create chickens, but to improve them as well. The new birds would be bigger, stronger, faster, taller, smarter, louder, prettier, and fly farther.
"He said I was crazy, but now, chickens will not only have lips, but also will talk!"
The scientist's attempts were numerous but eventually successful. After four months he had created the first test-tube chick. This single baby bird was all he needed to raise his new breed of asexual birds. He danced madly around his basement laboratory flailing his arms and singing, "I feel like chicken tonight. I feel like chicken tonight. Moo Hoo Ha Ha Ha."

(One year later)

Pete seemed to have complete control over his growing flock of mutant birds. One day while his battalion of chickens goose-stepped around the laboratory compound, a chicken fell out of formation and accosted him.
"You're no scientist."
"Why, I certainly am."
"Oh yeah, what is the derivative of a polynomial whose limit is the x-axis?"
Pete was impressed; he did not expect such a knowledgeable question from a chicken. Captivated by the problem, he considered the challenge an enjoyable and unexpected perk of his new creation.
Pete pondered the polynomial problem at the kitchen table. Meanwhile, the chickens escaped from their primitive cage of Lincoln Logs and terrorized the city of Greenville. Their plan of attack was simple. One bird would casually walk up to a citizen and ask a tough question. Not wanting to be out done by a chicken, the befuddled victim would soon be deep in thought. Then the wild horde of vicious fowl would drop down out of the sky, devour everything that moved, and leave nothing but a pile of bones. Soon the chickens had complete control of Greenville, and their population grew along with their taste for human flesh.
The Secret Service, FBI, Coast Guard, Air Force, Navy Seals, and KGB all tried to recapture the city but they were powerless. Bullets just bounced off the beasts. Pete realized now that Kevlar feathers were a bad idea. Soon the chicken invasion spread across the state. As their numbers grew, they massed together and struck entire towns. The sky would grow dark as the flock descended upon their prey. Victims never saw the predators because no light could penetrate the swarm.

(Fifty years later)

Joe dropped into a cafe for a quick lunch. "Let me have a burger."
"Wouldn't we all like one, buddy?" said the waiter sarcastically.
"I'd like a steak then."
"You would eat meat from a cow?"
"Of course not, I want a human steak."

"Look, there are no people; we ate them all. We kept stuffing our beaks until they were all gone. They're lost forever."
Joe, the bewildered chicken, flew out of the restaurant window. He had heard the people farms were having a tough summer, but he didn't know they were completely barren. Was there anything he could do? Could he bring back the humans?

My new Cell Phone Number- 630-453-7205

Crazy Guy goes Nuts went confronted with Us

Yesterday we went to the Boston Marathon to watch a friend of ours run it. The Marathon in itself has nothing to do with the rest of this posting. Afterwards we went to dinner at this Bar where you can get a 1/2 pound burger and fries for only $1.95. Again, this has nothing to do with the main point of this posting. After talking for a while, we decided to try and walk across town and catch a train that was leaving in 10 minutes. When we got to the train station, it had already left, which meant we had to wait for the next train which came in an hour and a half. The train station is underneath the Boston Garden (the basketball court where the Boston Celtics play), and the Celtics Game was starting at the exact time we showed up. Here's where the action took place.

None of us cared to go to the game (us being Weber, Scott, Drewman, Phil, Chaz, Jessica, Doug, a girl from El Salvador, and myself), so we sat down at a wall and began waiting for the next train. There were some people trying to sell their tickets near the place we were sitting, so Weber asked a fairly wealthy looking guy how much a ticket cost. He told Dave they were $15 seats, but he would give them to us for only $10. Weber came back to us and asked how much we would pay to see the Celtics play. After a bit of deliberation, Drew and I told Weber no more than $3. When Weber told the guy (whom I'm going to call "Boss" for the rest of this posting), he laughed at us and walked away. Drew, Chaz, Scott and I knew that there was no market this evening, and that Boss would eventually come back to us because no one wanted to see the Celtics play their last game of the season being they just missed the playoffs. I promised the group that we would get the tickets for $3 if we only waited, although none of really cared if we went to the game or got on the train and went home. Bargaining is something that most of us know how to do pretty well, having lived in all the places we've lived, so we continued to wait....

If you know me, you know that I'm fairly stubborn and a bit of a smart-ass at times. If you know any of my friends, you know that we tend to feed off of each other, and they are probably even better at getting people riled up than I am (Brent being the best I've ever known). About to come is a graphic description of the ensueing events. Please Note that Boss is a little insane, and most people have a good time with us when we do stuff like this. We never expected him to get so upset so quickly.

Boss kind of wandered over in our general direction. He then told us that we could have the tickets for only $5. Normally we would have just bought the tickets, but again, none of us wanted to see the game so we stuck to our original plan and just told the guy "No Thanks". He was getting a little angry in the face, so he asked us "Fine, how much do you want them for?". Chaz quickly chimed in and said, "We have $30. You give us 10 tickets, and we'll give you the $30". Boss lauged to himself and said "You want tickets to the Boston Celtics for $3 a piece? I would throw them in the trashcan before I sell them to you mother#@**#* for $3." At this point, we probably should have just gotten quiet, but Drewman came to the rescue with, "I once threw $30 in a trashcan too!". Boss responded with, "I'de tear them up first you F#@*#*, you're not getting these tickets", and then he walked out the door. We continued to sit along the wall talking amongst ourselves wondering WHAT IN THE WORLD just happened, we were only bargaining with the guy, not trying to get him upset!

We quite honestly didn't know what to do. We figured that it was all over, and that he wasn't going to come back. We made jokes like "If he comes back to tear up the tickets and throw them in the trashcan, we'll take out $30 and tear it up, then throw it in the trashcan." 10 minutes later, we saw Boss come back through the doors. Some other tall guy walked up to us and told us that he would sell us 10 tickets for $30, and we quickly knew that Boss had given him the tickets to sell to us because he couldn't find anyone else to buy. At this point we didn't want anything to do with the tickets. Chaz told the tall guy that we would only buy from the guy who had given him those tickets. Boss wasn't far behind the guy, so he heard Chaz say that, and he went ape. He came and took the tickets out of the tall guys hand, and preceeded to SCREAM at us at the top of his lungs. Stuff that I can not and will not repeat, but something to the affect of "Go bleep your mothers bleep".

Last I remember, he was walking out the door daring us to come outside and get the tickets for free. None of us really knew what to do, so we just stared at the ground in front of us waiting for him to leave.

End of Story.

Son of a..... Where's the instant Replay?

Driving on Roosevelt, the speed limit is 35mph. I was going the speed limit, and I had my seat belt on. The light turned yellow at Lorraine, and I had no option but to go thru it, as there was a car close behind me. So I did. Next thing I know, the siren lights are on behind me, and a cop is pulling me over. Ok. He tells me I just ran a red light. I tell him it was yellow. He said he was gonna give me a ticket for running a red, end of discussion.

Funny thing is, the first thought that came to mind was "Well let's just look at the instant replay. I KNOW that the light was yellow, you can't run a red light on Roosevelt and Lorraine and not get hit by cross Traffic. The instant replay will show the light was hardcore in the middle of being yellow".

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I realized I wasn't playing on national television, and there was no instant replay. SON OF A ....... I've decided to take this as a good sign that I've been watching too many sports on ESPN. I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air.

Putting it Off

I have a bunch of emails to write, and I don't want to write them because I am lazy. I will wait, and talk meaningless sports talk.

So March Madness has lost its luster this year. Usually I am at least somewhat excited about the Championship Game, but this year I really couldn't care less. I really dislike Florida(and think they got gifts the whole way to the championship game), so usually I would just root for the other team and be kind of interested in the game. For instance, if Duke was in the championship game, I would automatically root for the other guys because I hate Duke, thus I would be interested in the game and even feel invested in the other team. But this year, the other team is UCLA, and let's be honest here, a UCLA game is boring to watch because they have no offense. This year, two mediocre teams made it to the championship game, and I am apathetic to the outcome, which is just strange for me in any type of sporting event.

So in the words of a poster

one more post

This post is for two people: Matheo Gavilano and Scott Aronson

I've been watching a lot of tennis on ESPN2. I've gotten so into it that I actually can't wait until the next match. Yesterday there was a woman's tennis match on, and it was awesome (yes scott, not only tennis on TV, but WOMAN'S tennis). Best of 3 sets. Sharapova versus Golovin. Golovin was down one set, and down 5-1 in the second set. She saved 4 match points, and then proceeded to come back and win the set. Incredible. There were points where I had to stand up off the couch. She later rolled her ankle and tore two ligaments, but the match was unbelievable.

So now you know how low I've gone. I'm interested in Woman's tennis.

ESPN and ESPN2 and ESPN

I've been reading a book that a friend told me about called "Open Veins of Latin America". It's a pretty heavy book that so far has done quite a bit of bashing on Capitalism and what it has done to Latin America (Matheo, you would love this book). Some of the stuff is really good, and some a little off base, but for the most part it gives a pretty accurate history. The rich and the powerful feed on the poor and powerless, it's the basic story of life for much of the world. I saw a demotivational poster for sale that said it quite well

in case you can't read it, it says "A company that will go to the ends of the earth for its people will find it can hire them for about 10% of the cost of Americans"

As for me, other than reading and sleeping, I've been watching a lot of ESPN. In the morning I wake up and watch SportsCenter on ESPN. After SportsCenter, I might watch it again, or I might change the channel to ESPN2. Either way, I watch more sports. After that I watch Pardon the Interruption on ESPN, and then flip back to ESPN2 to make sure I'm not missing anything. If I have any energy left after all that, I may or may not watch College Gameday on ESPN. Then I sleep. Then I eat. Then I check to see if my eyes are white yet, which they never are. But they are more white, which is always encouraging.

By the way, to all my students, the Final Four is a little whacky this year. I told you that usually 2 number "1" seeds make it to the Final Four, which is usually true....but not this year. I suggest getting together on Saturday and rooting for George Mason, the team that shouldn't be there. And the Illini got screwed, they should totally be in the final four, just in case you didn't know....

an email, nature, plazas, and chaotic thoughts

I've been wanting to write for a while about some of the events of the last week and a half. Now I don't care to mention them at all. I got an email today that was titled "You are leaving the 21st". Before even opening it, my heart dropped. I didn't actually expect this to happen. The nightmare turned reality. Even when I wrote home and asked someone to find a flight, I thought it was just words and words don't have much power, right? Something would change and I would end up being alright, without any sickness, my liver perfectly healthy. Just a big scare, another lesson in trusting God.

The title of the email couldn't actually be right, so I opened it up. Crap. Crap. Crap. No Way. Tears flooded my eyes, but I'm way too tough to cry in the office so I held them back and tried to focus on the screen and on the words and I couldn't but I tried and tried and tried. I swore in my head, twice, three times, four times, five times, and then closed the window and left the office to the fresh air where nature could refresh me and revive me and beat me once again. God I love nature.

I left the school to go get my test results. Why do I have to carry them? Why can't the dumb lab send them to the doctor. Now I have two trips instead of one. Why am I so cranky? I got the results and opened them as soon as I got outside. Medical words in Spanish made it much more difficult, but I got the gist from looking at the Bilirrubina and other numbers. I'm still really sick, my liver isn't doing its job. I had time before the doctor got to see the numbers, so I walked over to a nearby plaza and sat down. God I love plazas.

My usually simple thoughts were no longer simple. I was sad. I was happy. I was relieved. I was grateful to my family, they care so much, way too much, they're too good to me. I was mad. I was excited. I was sad. So damn sad. I thought back to the Bolivian Dodgeball tournament I played in two weekends ago with my students, and how we made it to the championship game out of 13 schools, and I got sad. I thought about when I listened to an Aymara priest talk about the beliefs in the Campos, and I was thankful I got to hear it. I thought about the near raping under my Terraza the other night, and I was glad I was there at that moment in that exact place. I thought about the Mountaineering Club and their trip this weekend with the Shoe Shiner guys, and I got more sad. So damn sad. Am I being the biggest wimp by not going? I know I could go, I know I could make it down that trail. Why am I being a panzy? Then I thought about my students and how I'm leaving them and how I have to say goodbye TOMORROW because many of them will be gone on the Mountaineering Trip on Monday, and the sadness hit a new level, and the tears came. Oh man. Then I thought about how I'm gonna see my brother and sister and mom and dad and new sister and spend time with all of them, and I felt a bit better, a bit happier. Then I thought about all I had to do before I left. Why am I sitting here thinking and feeling and watching the little kids play soccer, when I have so much to do? oh yeah, I love plazas. I sat there for the next hour.

I then went to the doctor. Good news. Bad news. News. I am closer than I could have imagined to really screwing things up. Relief. There is still hope and I will still recover, if I can not be stupid. I have to be careful. I am sicker than I thought. No room for error. Por lo menos, un mes en la cama. I'm glad I have a plane ticket for Tuesday. I am sad.

Now I have to tell people. I have to find a way to say good-bye to my home, to my family. I may never come back. I'm confused and I wish it could be easier, but it can't. It never is. If it were easy it wouldn't be very meaningful. I'm glad it's not easy. I thank God this will not be easy. If it were easy I would have to think that maybe my time here was a waste. At least the hardness gives me hope that there was a purpose in me being here, that I served God and people with my heart. My heart that now feels so broken....

God I love life.

from writing book entry to blog entry

As I walked home tonight, I had thought after thought after thought. Every now and then, I have moments of clarity and this was one of them. The lightning and thunder shook the ground where I walked, yet it had not yet begun to rain. The air chilled by the second, yet I felt warm. I looked up at the sky and bolt after bolt lit up the darkness that surrounded me, while the deep roar shook my soul and spoke. At one moment, I saw a brilliant, neonic, white, etch it's way jaggedly through the blackness. It did it so slowly that I can trace it in my mind. It stayed for so long that I thought time stopped. If only time had really stopped....if only i needn't be bound by past, present, and future. If only.

Pain can be so deep it can cripple us. Sorrow can be so sad it can kill us. I looked into the eyes of a young mother over the weekend, and saw what I frequently see in eyes: intense hurt. I didn't hear much of what she had to say, but I saw her saying it. Her eyes told the story for her, as they often do, and once again my heart ached and my head throbbed. Why can't it all stop, just for a short time? All of the oppression, all of the mourning, and all of the evil. This isn't how it's supposed to be. And it can be better, that I truly believe. Maybe I've become a litttle bit of an idealist without realizing it. When did I start to dream in such big proportions? Who's to blame, or who can I go out and thank? If only time had stopped when the lightning traced its path through the sky. If only.

Ecclesiastes 7:2-4 "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning."

James 4:9 "Grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up."

Psalm 34:18 " The LORD is close tot he brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Before I finished my walk home, it began to rain. Typical. Soaking wet, I changed my clothes, and got myself relatively warm, only to be reminded once again of all those who would endure the cold, wet, night under a bridge somewhere. Worst of all, many without feeling loved and most without hope. I thought of yesterday, ash Wednesday, and began to really process the significance of Lent. I thought of Isaiah 58, which we just read at the Bakers the other night. It tells us that our fasting should lose the chains of injustice, set the oppressed free, break the yoke, share food with the hungry, provide shelter for the poor, clothe the naked, and not turn away from your own flesh and blood. This is the meaning of fasting, a meaning so deep I read the words again and again and again and still they refuse to seep into my innermost core. Fasting is meant to do all of that? Wow. I want that, that's what what my soul ultimately yearns for. To free the oppressed and in no way be the oppressor. To do that I have to be completely humble, with no power. Or in other words, be truly poor in spirit as Jesus was.

So in the spirit of Lent, truly think of the real meaning of "fasting". Go to the house of mourning, for God is near to the brokenhearted.

The rain has stopped.

Arequipa and Back

Here are some picture of the weekend. I went to Arequipa over the weekend and got to celebrate two carnaval's, because I made it back in time for the La Paz carnaval on Tuesday. I will write of what happened over the weekend when I get the chance. Right now I have to plan for another day of teaching....

A picture of Monica and I in front of the fountain at the Plaza de Armas.

A Picture of us in front of the main Cathedral in the center of town (photo taken a completely different night)

Carnaval in La Paz. As soon as I got back from Arequipa, I got hit multiple times by water balloons. In fact, right now I sit at the computer soaking wet (i saw the truck coming full of teenagers, but I froze). That is one huge difference between La Paz and Arequipa. In La Paz, they mostly throw water balloons. In Arequipa, they mostly throw buckets of water, paint, and motor oil. I still don't understand the oil, but we were able to stay away from it the whole time. Back in La Paz, the costumes and dances continued all day. Very very interesting time.

Ok I will post in the next couple of days to tell everyone about the weekend. Hope all is well.

Ceja Stares

Walking in El Alto, especially the Ceja (or eyebrow), almost always brings amusement. I swear, these people have never seen a blonde person in their life. Minutes ago, I passed a group of teenage looking guys, and one of them nudged his friends to look at me. They stared, and stared, and stared, and then laughed and laughed and laughed (really, this is a pretty daily routine walking through the Ceja). Then, they attempted to pelt me with about 10 water balloons (also pretty ordinary for Carnival season). None of the balloons hit me. I almost started to laugh, being they couldn't hit me from 15 feet away. Instead, I told them they should try using their feet next time. Then I laughed.

Carnaval 2006

so far, no hits on me. count may rise exponentially in this next week.

the time has come.....

so why haven't i been posting??

1. I'm lazy
2. I don't have much to say
3. The times I'm near a computer, I'm tired

Right now, all three of the above apply. But I'm gonna suck it up, and try to write a little bit.

Times are starting to get exciting in South America. Carnaval is quickly approaching, which means that everyone under the age of 60 gets excited. Grown men find themselved chucking water balloons at helpless youngsters, while the youngsters devise over-ly complex plans to wet the elderly (which is everyone above the age of 30 for them). Women who think it is a childish thing to do suddenly begin filling water balloons out of revenge and protection, and gringos find themselves constantly running for cover, lest they get the brunt of everyones pent-up water-balloon-throwing energy.

Knowing that this is my last Carnaval for a few years (at least I think), I am saving up my energy for one day. I am saving up my balloons for one day. I am saving everything I have, for one glorious day of gringo revenge. I will wet the young and the old, the teething and the balding, and the male and the female.

You see, Wes and I have begun discussing plans. We have a catapult (sp?) in our mind, built on our Deck, and able to hit anyone within a square mile. In addition, I have the support of twelve 8th grade students (possibly less depending on the mood of the girls). And lets face it, 8th grade boys, and anyone willing to teach 8th grade boys, were made for this holiday.

This is the month where water is our friend, and childhood returns to everyone, the young and the old. It is the month of Carnaval....the greatest holiday ever created.....

---pics to come---

Much Better

Thank you for all your prayers. Last week I was able to teach all 5 days without missing a thing. I feel much better and am regaining energy by the day. The jaundice has almost completely faded, and I feel almost normal. This weekend I plan on making it back into the Mountains to start planning for the next few trips with the students.

On Saturday I moved back up to El Alto (my life is easily moved from one place to another with only one bag). I'm living with a guy named Wes who works for Word Made Flesh.

Hasta Luego

here it is....

here is a pic of my yellow eyes, now that the jaundice is fading. They were REALLY yellow last week, but I never got a picture of it.

Right now I'm on the recovery. I feel much better and finally have an appetite, so I have a lot of work to do in order to get the 30 pounds that I lost back.

I went back to school yesterday, and have been able to make it through both days without too much pain. Last week I tried to go to school and never made it longer than a couple of hours. Plus I don't think that the students were enjoying my looks very much. LJ, an eight grader, was talking to me and in the middle of her sentence said, "You know, it's kind of freakin me out to talk to you with your yellow skin and yellow eyes, so I'm gonna go", and she walked away. Other comments included, "Dude, Mr. Watson, you don't look so good." and "I can't tell the difference between your hair, skin, and eyes". The comments from the younger students were even funnier because they tend not to hold anything in.

Anyways, after 10 straight days of laying in a bed and resting, I'm back up and feeling much better. Everyone is telling me that I need to continue to rest, or I could get chronic Hepatitis, so I'm still taking it easy.

Sorry I wasn't able to post more last week, but I couldn't sit up to use the computer for more than a few minutes without getting tired. Thank you all for your prayers, I could have never recovered so fast without them.

Yellow Eyes, Yellow Skin means what.....

well the word that comes to mind is Jaundice. You know, the pictures you always see in health books and science books, maybe occasionally in a National Geographic or a world news picture of sick people dying.

I am those pictures. I came down with something pretty ugly on Tuesday afternoon (I couldn't stand up straight, and my stomach was in excruciating pain), and ended up missing the rest of the week of School. After seeing 2 doctors and having 4 blood tests, 2 ultrasounds, 3 urine tests, a variety of people poking at my stomach, and seeing the white of my eyes turn yellow, it was decided that I needed an operation. Not the kind of operation where they cut you open, but the kind of operation where they stick a scope down your stomach, and then down your intestines until they find the main tube that feeds bile into your stomach from the pancreas, gall bladder, and liver. They then make a small incision to release a Gall Stone, and once again allow the flow of bile into the intestines, thus fixing the problem.

I personally didn't like this option, so on Friday I went to a 3 doctor for more tests. Actually our financial director at the school MADE me go. I was put in the hospital (if that's what you want to call it), and after a day was told that I had a very serious and advanced case of Hepatitus A. There was, and still is, very serious suspicion as to if this is the problem. Hep A does occasionally cause some abdominal pain, but with this case this is all I've had. They haven't completely ruled out Apendicitis, although I highly doubt this being the nature of how long I've had the pain. Tomorrow morning I will return for more tests.

Anyways, I am currently out of commission for a while, so maybe I can post more often. I still can't stand for more than a few minutes, my stomach is still in a lot of pain (although not as severe), and my eyes and skin are the yellowest they've been (which kind of freaks me out), but I think I'm on the road to recovery.

Stay in prayer over these next few days....

180 Hours Later, a little bit smarter.

I made it to Patagonia, and it was amazing. The whole area. I hiked for 4 days in the "Torres del Paine", which has glaciers that would stop me for hours at a time. Glacier Grey will forever stick in my mind as the most impressive site that my eyes have ever seen in the outdoors. The lakes were the same color blue that I saw at the beatiful beaches of the Carribean. A blue that doesn't make any sense at all in the middle of the mountains. So was it worth it? 180 hours of bus time, just to catch a glimpse of God's beauty and be in a place where the sun doesn't set until 11 oclock pm and rise at 4:30am. Yes, and here are just three moments that stick out.

We met a guy in the city of Osorno, Christian, that went out of his way to help us. He spent his whole day, showing us the city, and then went into the municipal courts to talk to some friends about getting us a free campsite. He didn't even know us, but he served us in unimaginable ways. It was hard at times to just let someone serve you the way he did. Sometimes I just wished he would let us go on our own, but then I realized that that was most likely my pride of not wanting to be helped and served so much. Without people who are willing to be served, what is the point of people who are willing to serve?

At Greys glacier in the Torres del Paine, Randy and I had just hiked 11kms and we came across a Brazilian couple that we got to talking to while overlooking the most amazing glacier. After learning a little bit about each other, Randy asked them a question that opened up a hour long conversation where we just sat and listened: What do you think of Americans? I learned more about that guy, Roberto, in the next hour than I have ever learned about anyone in such a short time. I have yet to meet a Brazilian that I don't like, and I have yet to meet a Brazilian that doesn't hate America. This was so exception. The guy was awesome, and he just talked and talked, while his wife sat there a little embarassed at the things he was saying so openly. By the end of the conversation (which we had to stop because we had to hike the 11km back), it had come to the point that he has lost all faith in Humanity. He told Randy and I that he only trusted 4 people at this point in his life: himself, his wife, and Randy and I. The funny thing is that all he knew about us was that we lived in La Paz and cared about Latin America, and that we both play basketball. Other than that, we just sat and listened to him, which is what so many people need. Just to be listened to, to hear there thoughts and not necessarily hear anything back.

In Arica, only 8 hours from being back in La Paz, Randy and I got asked by a bunch of High School students to play in their Rugby game on the beach. I don't know what it was about being on the beach playing a game that I didn't know very much about that was so refreshing to my soul. Maybe it was nice to call yourself Estadounidense (from the States), and not have people look down on you and even invite you to do something with them. The fact is, most people don't like Americans down here. They hate Bush, and that is usually the first thing I hear about. Most Christians here won't even believe that a Christian COULD vote for Bush. It makes no sense to them. And as soon as you tell them where you're from, it ends any type of a conversation, especailly in Bolivia. There are exceptions of course. This was one of those exceptions, and it was really good for me and my soul. Also, it turns out Randy and I are pretty good at Rugby.

So yeah, I spent 180 hours on buses. But I learned more about the cultures down here in South America. I learned more about how people think in this world. And it made me question many things about the role of the culture in which we are raised. I plan on writing more about the Brazilian couple and what they said in a future blog, but right now I'm still processing.

What is the role of the most powerful nation in the world? Obvious answers to this question don't necessarily mean obvious responses.

----In case you haven't heard, Evo Moralis just won the presidency here in Bolivia. Nobody knows what that means for Bolivia right now, or in the long run. He is the leader of the Socialistic Movement in Bolivia, so only time can tell what is in store for Bolivia. He has a very strong anti-American sentiment, and is working more closely with Chavez of Venezuela and Castro of Cuba.

----Congratulations to my bro Dave on his engagement to Nickie. I wish I could be there with you to celebrate. I am already looking forward to the wedding. Send me pictures of the ring and whatever else when you get the chance.

----A very Happy Birthday to Monica Ghali.

When I get my pictures downloaded, I will post them on the site.