Tag: Home

Almost Home: Comfort When Travel is The Pits

The Brazilian bus where I served a 26-hour sentence

Twenty-six hours with little sleep on a cramped bus – most of it beside a crying, fidgety child sitting on his pregnant mother’s lap. I’m hungry and weary of cheese sandwiches – the only vegetarian option at rest stops. I forgot to unpack my healthy snacks which are buried in the storage below. I’m under the weather – sneezing and congested and low-energy – from the cold snap that hovered over the region for a few days.

I feel alone in this less-trodden corner of Brazil and miss my companions on the backpacker-friendly coast. I left Cuiabá disappointed by the cost-prohibitive Pantanal wildlife (3-day tours are nearly $800 USD) and the bureaucratic hurdles at Chapada de Guimarães national park that made it very difficult to enjoy.

So I feel the last few days have been a bust. Things just haven’t quite worked out.

Bus break in Brazil

Travel is full of shitty moments like this. Like most things in life – a job, a relationship, a hobby – there’s no shortage of let downs. And when on your own it can feel worse, there’s no one to turn to amid indifferent surroundings.

With the battery dying on my mobile phone, I opened my calendar and counted the days remaining in Brazil. Almost home… I tell myself. What a relief!

As if by chance Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song “Almost Home” plays in my random mix:

I’m not running
I’m not hiding
I’m not reaching
I’m just resting in the arms of the great wide open
It’s gonna pull my soul in
And I’m almost home

Almost home… is momentarily forgetting the thousand tiny details that travel demands, knowing things soon will be logistically easier. It’s thinking of those I love and miss. It’s setting an anchor by filling my mind with familiar things.

Almost home… is remembering that I choose this life. Being away has allowed me to let go of the demands and dull routines of home. Knowing home is around the corner helps me to accept the here and now.

Almost home… is not being homesick. It’s part of the journey, a destination too. It’s appreciating the home I carry inside that lets me find comfort in new places and with new faces.

Almost home… is a great place to be. It means I’m out there. Travel is a permanent part of my life and home is what connects all the trips, it’s the pause in the middle between adventures.

Almost home… is time to start dreaming about my next travel destination!

Sometimes I’m not happy, things aren’t wonderful and my surroundings don’t delight. Tomorrow will be a new day. I’m just resting in the arms of the great wide open.
And I’m almost home.

Brazilian sunrise as seen from a bus window

Creature Comforts in the Key City

Scenes from a visit to my childhood home in Dubuque, Iowa

It was a gratifying return to the United States: a few days of affection and rest in my childhood home of Dubuque, Iowa. Dad and Kelly greeted me in blustery Rockford, Illinois and we drove the beautiful stretch through Terrapin Ridge to the icy Mississippi River Valley, my old stomping grounds.

After six months rambling in South America it felt good to be back with family. It was easy to adapt to non-Latino life — I found respite in simple things like hot showers, speaking English, brushing my teeth with tap water, and slumbering deeply under heavy blankets and winter’s darkness and silence.

I was treated like royalty: Dad carefully planned each meal of home-cooked fare and kept up lively topics of conversation about politics, history, academia, my travels and the wider world. We kicked back with bottles of Leinies, discussed articles from the New York Times and The Nation, and laughed in a tavern drinking pints while the snow flurried wildly outside.

Each night I fell asleep with freight trains sounding in the distance. I awoke to Dad waiting for me with a smile and a cup of coffee. I was warm and content and cared for.

While I’ve lived more than half my life away from Dubuque, it’s probably where I’m most rooted and will always find homey comfort. It is safe and familiar, where things are measured and known, my reactions predictable and my memories stored away securely.

I spent an afternoon cleaning up old papers, sorting through the blurred places and faces from elementary school, junior high, high school. Wistful feelings surface: compunction, gladness, ambiguity.

I guess that’s the key to going home: delighting in the nostalgia while accepting the ambivalence.

My childhood’s home I see again,
        And sadden with the view;
And still, as memory crowds my brain,
        There’s pleasure in it too.

— Abraham Lincoln

Home Is Wherever I’m With You…

Adios, amigo... ¡otro viaje maravilloso contigo!

Well… another arrival and departure of Paul. It doesn’t get easier.

We had an extraordinary five weeks together in Ecuador’s wild playground: traipsing through the rainforest, flying on zip-lines above thundering waterfalls, crisscrossing the Equator, hiking past volcanoes, descending the steepest railroad track in the world, lounging on Pacific Coast beaches, galloping through the tropics on horseback, mountain biking from the Andes to the Amazon — we did it all.

It’s been a transient few months for us. I’ve been living in South America, volunteering and traveling through four countries. Paul has been moving between friends and family and joining me when he can. We have no fixed address since we rented our home.

But we’re not homeless. We’ve long yearned to be free of the hassles and headaches of maintaining a house and being tied down. It has been a long (and arduous) process of letting go.

We’re working to establish a new way of living, one that is freeing but also fleeting. The bonds of living together under one roof become slippery; special care is required to keep our relationship on meaningful footing.

This is new to us. It’s exciting, tricky, bold, and irregular… We’re learning as we craft new ways to engage our interests and passions and each other.

Today as I entered Colombia I was marveling (as usual) at the breathtakingly awesome Andes. And reflecting on my rambling ’round life — now in its fifth month.

The truth is I deeply miss Paul. But I’m also very happy. It puzzles me.

Then as this song popped in my headset the light bulb went off:

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is whenever I’m with you

This feels crazy but it all makes sense.

Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros:

A Day in My Life: Scenes from Cochabamba

Scenes from my daily life in Cochabamba

My life as a Kiva Fellow was obviously different than my normal travel mostly due to the fact that I lived primarily in one city, had an apartment, went shopping for food, spent time in an office, and had time and energy to socialize at night.

Here are some pictures and captions that I hope give a sense of my daily life in Bolivia.

Home: More than just a place to hang my hat for a night or two…

Calle La Paz: my street, just near the corner of Ayacucho, a great location in a quiet neighborhood just north of city center
Some interesting graffiti I passed on my way home, lots of great street art in Cochabamba
My house at Calle La Paz 138, my room was above the AndesXtremo sign, an adventure sports company... the garage to the left contained a climbing wall, how cool! I shared the apartment with 3 Bolivians, a German and a Peruvian... all friendly and welcoming!
My bedroom, quite spacious, pluperfect color combinations... and lots of closet space (although my 50-liter backpack only filled 25%). It desperately needed some decorations, I tried my best with a well-placed bottle of Bolivian red wine ;)
I loved the large windows, I kept them open and let the springlike breeze of Cochabamba flow through
When the curtains were shut the room resembled a black-box theater, I had the stage all to myself... a dream come true!
View from my window, this was taken on the National Census day when everyone was confined to home, a police-enforced mandate. I admit it looks like I\'m interred in a medium-security prison.
With our helper Doña Beni who I always had coffee with each morning (we were the early risers)... every day I asked her

Office: No cubicles, a 10-minute commute, a two-hour lunch break, and not a word in English…

My commute: I caught the #205 trufi from the corner of my street to Km. 2.5 on the highway west to Quillacollo, an easy 10 -minute ride. Such a pleasure after my 75-minute commute (one-way) to my former job!
My CIDRE office in the Chimba neighborhood office in Cochabamba. My co-workers busily getting new clients signed up for a Kiva-funded low interest loan.
My desk... here\'s where I reviewed loan binders, payment documentation, and business procedures. I was located right near the main door so I got a lot of questions from CIDRE clients... I do love to be the center of attention!
Piles of loan paperwork to sort through ay yi yi... Bolivia is not yet as automated as it could be.
Sometimes there was a lot of waiting... waiting... and more waiting. Appointments in this part of the world apparently use a clock I\'m not familiar with.
My co-workers during the mid-day lunch break (from left to right): Gastón, Saúl, Sara, Verónica, Carlos and Alan. They were more welcoming and helpful then I ever could have asked for!
A day in the CIDRE office was never \"normal\"... this safety drill put new meaning into \"putting out fires.\"
One day were at the opening of a new CIDRE branch office. Being Latin America, there was a priest to bless the site, holy water and lots of wine... OKAY!!!!

Client Visits: Time spent with the best “users” ever… an awesome part of my job!

Some of the wonderful faces of Kiva borrowers I had the grand fortune to meet in Bolivia. Every visit was a gift.
Sometimes I traveled to borrower visits on public buses... lots of them.
Other times I traveled with loan officers, this was always fun & good times chatting with my colleagues. I learned so much from them.
I also spent a chunk of time on the back of motorcycles to visit more remote Kiva borrowers. Here is Efraín, my trusty loan officer / motorcycle driver extraordinaire in Santa Cruz.
Some of the road hazards we encountered: muddy dirt roads loaded with livestock, wobbly bridges spanning roaring rapids
Usually visits were 10-15 minute encounters with borrowers, but René from Tarique went way beyond most with his welcome and generosity. We were greeted with a fresh meal from his gardens and a tour of his farm. It was a visit I will remember always.
I usually took the client photographs, however on some occasions the children of Kiva borrowers turned the camera on me.
Are there were some surprises: this Kiva cow was found taking a l-o-n-g drink from the

Work: Still lots of time in front of the computer but I could definitely leave it at the end of day…

I spent a lot of time verifying borrower information, checking ID's...
...and loan paperwork... fortunately the borrowers always graciously complied. It's probably not easy with a strange gringo in your house taking pictures and asking all sorts of questions.
I spent a lot of time at my computer entering Kiva borrower and loan information. This tucan in a hostel in Santa Cruz did not make my task any easier as he spent his time trying to eat the red button on my laptop. (He was also distracting me from the Real Madrid-Dortmund soccer match).
My desk in my apartment in Cochabamba, I spent a lot of time here since I didn't have internet access at the CIDRE office.
Sweating it out in sultry Santa Cruz
There of course all the work made me thirsty... here I'm sampling some <i>guindól</i>, a special cherry-flavored liquor from Colomí
And we had to sample the sweet chicha (corn beer) during lunch in Tarata...
And a final chicha stop at the end of the day in Tarique... it was a long, hot day visiting clients and we were parched.

Leisure Time and Food: Fun friends and new experiences and a vast new universe of flavors to explore…

I normally spent the lunch hour at one of the many vegetarian restaurants in Cochabamba... here at Gopal with Paul, a great choice. These are wonderfully healthy, filling and economical meals (about $2). My favorite was Sabro-Vida, just around the corner from my apartment, I became a regular there.
I spent mornings over coffee catching up on the news. Here Bolivian President Evo Morales caused a minor diplomatic stir when he said having relations with the US was like "taking a crap"
I took some classes in the evening to stay social. Here my salsa dance class practices the <i>dile que no, paso básico, and enchufla..</i>
I also attended the weekly Charlas at Sustainable Bolivia which feature interesting talks by local volunteers engaged in great works around Cochabamba.
I also visited the interesting sights around Cochabamba like the elegant home of tin baron Simón I. Patiño who was one of the richest men in the world a century ago.
And I visited the timeworn Convento de Santa Teresa (founded in 1760) which still houses eight nuns, far below the 200 at its height.
I often spent idle time people-watching at the Plaza 14 de Septiembre and reading lively left-wing commentary at the Panel de la Plaza posted for the public good. Cochabamba continues the proud tradition of rich plaza life with gusto.
I did lots of food shopping at the enormous Mercado Cancha Calatayud in Cochabamba, Bolivia's largest market town.
Sometimes I just bought fresh fruits and vegetables from the green grocer truck that passed by my house.
Or simply stopped at the nearby 7-Eleven for sundry groceries.
When I was lazy and not wanting to cook in the evening, I took to the streets. My favorite was "Gino's", a roving cart where I could buy tasty $1 vegetarian pizzas.
At home I made a lot of smoothies... and found a new passion for <i>tumbo</i>, a passion-fruit relative that perfectly blends sweet and sour, yummy!