TOuch Down

The current American flight situation is enough to make anyone want to hold off on airtravel for awhile. But for those of us who (voluntarily) can bare delayed arrival and departure times, crowded gateways, fatigued flyers and the occasional vexed Check-in, Boarding pass and/or Flight attendant, this is what we look forward to (refering to the picture adjacent. There will be more!)


The weather. A brisk 42 degrees (farenheit). The place. El Alto international . We arrive late but the plus is the climate has a bit more time to emanate... otherwise we´d ba walking into 19 degree temperatures with crocks and sweater fleece (not so much fun...)

But I digress...Visas stamped and pre-approved we [in the future when I say we I amd refereing to Anne-Marie Turnage and myself] have no problem at customs and go straight through to enter "Bolivian soil". (That is, after a period of line waiting to address the neccessary paper work with students young and older from the States, Germany, Europe, Bolivia etc... )
We meet up with Dr. Brooke Harlowe [who unto here will be acknowledged as Harlowe ] who has been an importunate figure of the familia de Unidad Academica Campesina de Carmen Pampa for about five years now. From what I understand her interest in this place spawned the idea to place a service learning experience for our Lock Haven Students (those interested in Latin American Culture as well as the PA´s who are derfinitley servicable. Thus, Anne-Marie and mines journey to Carmen Pampa in Coroico, Bolivia (Thanks Harlowe!)
Our luggage goes in the trunk of the taxi and the air 12,000 ft above sea level is undoubtley something to appreciate if your not accustomed (or have live their your entire life). A few deep breaths does te trick for me. Ramiro our driver starts the engine, and accelerates to the command of Harlows voice as she narrates on the culture and history of El Alto and La Paz, Bolivia.
We manuever the sloping streets of El Alto toward our destination, it is morning and the work force has already been up for hours. The streets appear barren and lack the emotion that I am accustomed to; living in the city. Yet, perserving glares (It also could be that it´s aroung 7 in the morning)of traditonal dressed woman selling morning salteñas and toiling tire shops, obstensibly anywhere, attempting to make a few ´´bucks´´ to support the family, is familiar and elicits prospect. Implies hope.

And so I´ve made it...

Hello to all readers. As it stands, this is my first official post from Bolivia. It has been one full week from the day of my departure from the states and six days from the date/time of my arrival to Bolivia (more specifically Carmen Pampa).
In the midst of action (unto my dismay), my dedication (in the sense of Daily attentivness) to the blog has desertedly fallen by the waist-side. But do not fright. The ever indespensible notepad has been the faithful concubine to my thoughts and the pen, my hands reliance.
Any similarity and every eccentricity, I have done my best to capture in my journal. And while I realize it´s been some time since my last post; so much has happend within this span - and so little time it seems to have been. So, to make up for it, I have goobs and gobs to relay. And to ease the excess of elation that I´m sure will subdue the senses, I will deliver this fantastic meal that is Bolivia, in courses. Designated by tittilating titles and some spanish spellings. So.... I say unto thee...provecho!