Summer vacation is over! After 9 weeks roaming the back roads of Bolivia, Peru and Brasil, I’m back in steamy Asunción, smelling the rotting mangos which lie on the ground under all of the mango trees. And teaching too. Oh, but what a wonderful trip it was! I’ll be sending a newsletters a bit more often for a while to cover some of the highlights! In this newsletter though, a quick look at thieves and lessons learned!
First of all, Peru and Bolivia in particular, are going through some rough times with their economies. Bolivia’ problems are occurring to a large extent because the US government is applying pressure on their government to put limits on the family farmers who grow coca, the plant from which cocaine can be refined. And in Peru, the problems center around recent election turmoil and scandals in the federal government. But more about those situations in latter newsletters.
In both Peru and Bolivia, there are many poor people, many street people, many beggars. My light skin, European heritage and ability to speak English, set me aside, made me seem different. And some people who saw me there, saw that difference, stereotyped me as a rich gringo*, and then saw me as a target. Someone to rob. They didn’t know that I’m not a rich gringo! They didn’t know I was just a teacher. But even as a teacher, not at all rich by American standards, I am rich by their standards. I make more money in one month than most people in Peru or Bolivia might make in several years! In countries like that, no matter how little money you have by American standards, you become a target!
In my nine weeks, I had two times that people tried to rob me. The first was in La Paz, Bolivia. I was walking down the street in a busy part of town, alone, when a guy asked me if I could speak Spanish. When I said yes, he told me that I had something on my back. I reached around and wiped my back and sure enough, someone had squirted mustard all over my back. He offered me a Kleenex that he happened to have to help me clean up. Then suddenly this all seemed very familiar. I had read about this trick in a travel book! If I reached out to take the Kleenex, he would grab my hands while his accomplice picked my pockets. And as I remembered that I became aware of another person right behind my shoulder. His accomplice! And probably the person that squirted the mustard on me on the first place! I refused the Kleenex, ran quickly across the street and down to my hotel. Safe! I did the right thing and that felt good. But it felt bad to know that someone who seems to be trying to help you is really the person trying to rob you!
The second time was in Salvadór, Brasil. While sitting on a retaining wall overlooking a beautiful Atlantic Ocean beach, a local person came up on my right side to talk with me. For me, its always neat when you get to meet a local person and talk with them some. So, while I try to be cautious about it, I also try to enjoy the cultural contact! After a minute or so of talking, I felt something bump my backpack, which I was holding onto very tightly immediately to my left. I looked down at my backpack and the accomplice of the person who was talking with me had managed to unzip my backpack and to start to try to take something out of it. I got up and left quickly. You never know if they might have a gun or knife, so I chose not to make a scene. And you also never know whose side the police might be on! So I didn’t go to the police either. But again the frustration of the fact that the person that seemed to be friendly and helping you was really the person trying to rob you!
And, every once in a while, we all seem to need to be reminded of something! For me, the neatest reminder came on a 12 hour bus trip in Peru. I had stored a few things in the overhead shelf on the bus, and felt like I was watching them pretty closely. The bus was very full, people standing in the aisles, getting on and off at every little village. At one stop, I noticed that the very nice, lightweight, long sleeved shirt that I had put up on the shelf was missing. At first I was very mad. Mostly at myself for not watching closely enough! And I sat there thinking of the $60 price tag that had been on that shirt at Jax in Fort Collins and how I would never be able to find that kind of shirt down here! After about an hour of stewing over it, I asked myself what the lesson was here. And my first answers of ‘watch your stuff more closely’ or ‘don’t put stuff up on the storage shelf’ were not the best answers. Another answer came to me that was a lot better.
In my life, it often seems that when I lose something, its because I need a reminder that I need to share my things with people in need and less fortunate! I had some food with me. And I had some very poor people all around me. I got out the food and started sharing it with other passengers on the bus. I’ll never forget one young boy who grabbed a big handful of soda crackers as they came by. He was hungry! His mother yelled at him for grabbing so much and I tried to tell her it was OK. The boy can have all that he wants!
It felt good to share. Especially with people who really needed.
And at the end of the trip, the lady in the seat in front of me turned around and handed me my shirt. It had fallen off of the shelf into her bag. And when she found it she knew right away it wasn’t from a Peruvian. Its gringo clothing!
You might think I’m crazy, but I bet I never would have gotten my shirt back if I hadn’t shared my food. Lesson learned!
So enough for this newsletter! Many more will follow that I hope you will enjoy. Enjoy the winter!
*While the word gringo often has a negative connotation in the US, I’ve found here it is not intended in a negative way and is not meant to demean or cut someone down. And it doesn’t just apply to Americans! Its just an easy label to use for anyone who isn’t from Latin America. Interesting how words take on different meanings in different places. For instance, a good friend I made in Salvador, Brasil, an area with a huge African population from slavery days, told me that there the label black (negro) is viewed as a cut-down, a negative word intended to hurt. The proper word, the polite word to use there was nigger! A word that certainly is not acceptable in the US. I never could bring myself to use it in Brasil! Even though my friend who was of African heritage insisted it was the polite word to use!