Back to the Cancha

So unlike so many other Halloweens before, I didn’t do anything to exciting. My main excitement came from playing in the volleyball tournament with my team. As y’all can assume I was out for two weeks, since Kujo attacked me. But after what seemed like an eternity I was finally able to join my team on the cancha.

I think that I must define the word “cancha” for most of y’all. The word has two main uses: 1. a cement court with lines for soccer, basketball, and volleyball 2. is the main mercado where people can buy just about anything.

Since I arrived in Bolivia (about two months ago) my life has been filled with several different types of activities. I usually try and play some type of sport on a weekly basis. Monday is usually volleyball, Tuesday is hockey, Wednesday is soccer, and Thursday thru Sunday usually consists of pick up games from tennis to Frisbee. Monday nights have become the new Friday.

Sometime next week I will update a picture with my teammates. But for now the picture of me heckling the profesoras, as we won, will have to do.

Walking with my leg held high

So as most of y’all know, I got attacked by a dog about 10 days ago. I had 12 stitches, but now things are fine. My stitches were taken out, and the doctor says that things are healing great. I am thankful that the dog only bit my leg, instead of taking out chucks of flesh from my leg (as he did 6 months ago, when he attacked a little girl and her mother). I have kept, and still have a very positive attitude about the whole thing, but have been taking notes about things that I have taken advantage of in the states.

Every day since being bitten something has opened my eyes. I remember thinking, while on the gurney in the ER, how lucky I am that I can afford to go to the doctor. I mean, within 10 minutes of having my leg chomped on, I was receiving medical treatment. I am one of the privileged in the WORLD who can receive medical treatment without a hassle. Many Bolivians (and Americans for that matter) are not as privileged to receive medical treatment. This may be due to financial matters or, in the case of rural areas, the complete absence of medical facilities.

Here in Cochabamba, and as is the case in many cities, the private clinics seem to be the facilities, where a patient will receive the best treatment. However, as mentioned early, not everyone is privileged enough to receive that “quality” of treatment. Thus, many Bolivians must result in waking up early and waiting in lines hours before the center opens, just to have a chance at receiving treatment. One of my profesoras even told me that in extreme cases, individuals decide to sleep outside the doors all night long, to increase their chances at receiving medical attention.

Another thing that caught my eye is that in the mornings/afternoons, my hermano boliviano takes me to school, so as not to put to much stress on my leg. But, in the evenings I take it upon myself to walk home (seeing as how I am really stubborn and I KNOW I can do anything). The voyage to my house is quite an adventure. Instead of having a nice paved road, I have to hobble my way over cobble stoned roads, avoid sudden potholes, and keep an eye out for random dangers in the streets. I have must be on the look out for what I like to call “drive bombers” who, I swear, seeing me (a guy using a crutch/cane) and I swear try to hit me.

It’s strange. That in the past 14 days I have only seen one other individual using crutches. But even more shocking is that I have seen maybe 2 elderly individuals with handicaps. I haven’t seen one child with any type of handicap. After feeling comfortable enough to ask one of my profesoras, I was told that families with children whom have handicaps, see these children as disgraces. At times the family begins to think that they have upset the Pacha Mama (a spirit that many Bolivians believe in…very similar to Mother Earth), and as a punishment the Pacha Mama has given the family a child with a handicap.

The hardest thing for me right now, is walking around my neighbor hood and the city. Everywhere I go, I notice that people are looking at me. I am not sure if it’s due to my brightly colored SEU shirts that I am wearing, or because of the crutch/cane that I am using. I wonder if these individuals look at me and think “He has crutches. He must have received those at the doctor’s office. He must be rich.”

Altogether, over the past 11 days, I have come truly started to realized how privileged I am. Now, the question that has been on my mind for the past few weeks is, “What can be done to help spread the privileges that I have?” Any and all ideas are more than welcomed.

CNN BREAKING NEWS



HURRICANE ROY HITS ST. LOUIS BRINGING ABSOLUTE DEVASTATION TO BUSCH STADIUM AND THE SURROUNDING AREA. A HUGE SWARM OF KILLER BEES BLEW INTO ST. LOUIS ALONG WITH HURRICANE ROY. BRANCHES THAT WERE FORMALLY BUSCHS (USED FOR THE PERCHING OF THE CARDINALS) ARE NOW MERE TWIGS.... TORN AND BROKEN. GENERAL MANAGER,TONY LA RUSSA HAS REMOVED HIS SHADES, RUBBED HIS EYES AND LOOKED AROUND...TRYING TO SEE WHAT HAPPENED. WORD HAS IT ST. LOUIS FANS WILL BE GATHERING THE BAZILLIONS OF RED FEATHERS FLOATING IN THE AIR AND ON THE GROUND TO STUFF PILLOWS. THESE PILLOWS WILL BE USED TO BEAT THE NATIONAL NEWS NETWORKS FOR PROMISING THEM THE WORLD SERIES AND IT NOT HAPPENING!! BUSCH STADIUM ITSELF WILL BE TORN DOWN AND BURIED. THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE HAS ADVISED CHICAGO, THE WINDY CITY, TO BEGIN TO MAP A SAFETY PLAN IN PREPARATION FOR THE SWARM OF KILLER BEES THAT WILL BE FUELED BY "ROCKET" POWER THIS WEEKEND INVADING THEIR AREA.

Thanks CNN for an awesome story.

GO ASTROS!!!

Kids do the darnedest things!

This is a picture of my nephew, Collin, participating in two of his favorite hobbies: getting dirty and eating. He is walking/running around the house now, and since he still cant determine his speed, he continues to run into stationary objects. He has learned where the pantry is in the house, and when he has the chance, he darts to it and sits on the floor eating anything in sight.

Roy vs. Kujo



So after the emotional football game, we decided that we should go eat tacos at the local place we love. So we did. Around 9 o´clock we started walking home. I walked Emily and Caitlin to Em’s house, where we were gonna call for a taxi to take Caitlin home. It was our luck, that one of Em’s neighbors used a taxi to get home, and Caitlin could take that one to her house. Caitlin left, as Em and I got dragged in to talking to her neighbor. As we started walking away, the female owner of the house opened the gate and Kujo ran out. He darted around me and then decided to make a quick turn on went after my leg. At first he missed my leg and got my pant leg. And I was like, this cant be good. Then his second attack got my leg. And yeah it hurt…but I was like…what do I do…STOP, DROP, and ROLL. Then I realized that was for a fire, but I figured instead of playing tug-of-war with Kujo (and having my leg used as the rope) I should fall to the floor and try not to pull away too much. When he finally sank his teeth into my leg, I thought about hitting the dog in the eye. But figured I didn’t want to hurt the dog, and secondly, I didn’t want the dog to stop biting my leg and go after my face. I finally (with a little bit of help from the male owner of Kujo) was able to pry to dog’s mouth open with my hands. I limped home (only a block away from Em´s) and told my family what happened. To make a long story short…I have about nine holes in my leg and needed 12 stitches. So as you probably got the idea, but Kujo won the battle.

However, during this same time Emily was at a safe distance trying to figure out what was happening. Then her neighbors started yelling "Su amigo . . . muerdio!" Through my screams, she couldn't make out every word. But all she really heard was muerdio (past tense verb for to bite), which is very similar to the word she understood, muerio (past tense verb for to die). So Emily is yelling to her neighbors that I am not dead, but just got attacked by a dog. It was quite funny when she told the story.

So now in the house, Don Victor (the 91 year old grandpa of the house) and I fight for the walker. So far I have won and am using it…but I can tell by the look in his eye that there is a fight still left in him. I just hope he doesn’t beat me down with his canes, in my sleep.

Irish Pride

Yesterday afternoon, Emily and I helped support our Domer housemates (Caitlin and Ryan). Since the Irish (ranked 9th) were battling the Trojans (ranked 1st) we had to see it. However, since ESPN Vivo only shows soccer and occasionally a baseball game, we were in a jam. However, Ryan being the genius that he is suggested that we hear the game on the ESPN website. So we did. The four of us were huddled around the broadcast, trying to picture each play. It kinda made me feel like we were in the Waltons’ house listening to the radio. But instead of a radio we were listening to the game via internet on a laptop and to provide the Irish marching band we had an Ipod. It was a great game to hear. It’s too bad that USC sold their souls to win that game. Oh well. After that game the Irish have two new fans, Emily and me.

¡Ciao!
Alright so one of the greatest things about Bolivia is actually living in a room, and having a place to call “home.” I mean, the last few months have been great. Mainly, cause I got a room to call me own. Yes, at Moreau Seminary (at Notre Dame) I had my own room, but that was different. So in my Bolivian house, I have a closet and a place to put my clothes. Its great! I am not living out of a backpack anymore.

The hardest thing during the first month and a half of joining HCA, was saying goodbye to people. Of course, it was hard saying goodbye to my family, I mean I would have to be a robot not to have been sad about leaving. But it was nice to meet the new faces of HCA at orientation. After spending a week together, all the HCA domestic people left to their respective sites. That meant another goodbye. Then international orientation started at Norte Dame and for two weeks I got to hang out with some really cool people. But that was shorted lived and yet again…another emotional goodbye. Then in Chile we hooked up with the HCAers over there…and after a week…yep you guessed it, another goodbye. This experience has been all about “goodbyes” or “until we meet again” the first few months.

Finally down in Bolivia, I actually got to make some friends and didn’t need to say goodbye after a week. It was something new. But as you know, all good things must come to an end, and yes…another goodbye. In order to say “hasta luego” to our friends, we went out with a bang. Many of the students at the instituto got together for a few hours and just chilled. Since a party also includes pizza, we had to order one, and man was that thing huge. Everyone had a great time, as sent best wishes to our friends.

Best of luck David, Emma, and Eileen!!!

A New Hat is Woren

Well the other day something crazy happened to me. I was showing Jessi (my
Bolivian sister-in-law) some pics that I had brought with m to keep me in good spirits. She has been on my case for sometime about seeing pictures of my family and friends from back home.
She saw several pictures and finally got down to few pictures that she couldn´t quite understand. It was a of my penguin (a figure in my old apartment) and my yellow hat.

For those of y'all who dont know about my yellow hat, here is the quick run down. This cap was purchased by my dad my first week at SEU. Then I stole it from him somewhere soon after. I started wearing it around campus, and for the last three years this cap went just about everywhere with me. For a while I think people began to think that I was bald (another reason I grew my hair long) since for ages no one seem to have seen the top of my head. This hat was a part of my SEU experience (along with the classes and other things). To this day I dont think people actually knew me, but recognized my yellow hat.

Back to the story. Then I told her how my friends loved to enter my apartment and steal things from me...and the main target usually was my yellow hat. She asked why and I told her that becuase I was famous for wearing it everywhere. She then looked at me and said the most shocking thing ever...what yellow hat? My yellow hat isnt know down here in Bolivia. Before I left Matt and Amanda gave me a new white hat and has started a new era. So I thought I should let yall know that a new era has started with a white hat in south america with a yellow hat that makes a special appearance every now and then.

What´s the difference between a moshpit and a Bolivian line?

Alright so I went to see the Kumbia Kings in concert and it was awesome. This was one of the best concerts I had been to in a while. These guys had so much energy, that they were able to get about 6 thousand people up and dancing during the whole thing. It was cool. The concert was cool, but I would like to reflect on the expierence prior to the concert. So down here in Bolivia when you buy tickets to something, its basically just a way into the arena. For example, at this concert you had the floor seat, a standing area, and then the stadium seats. My ticket basically allowed me to go into the proper entrance for my area and that’s it. There are no assigned seats whatsoever, so you have to get in line early to get good seats. So the doors to the place supposedly opened at 6 PM, and Jessy (my Bolivian sister-in-law) wanted to leave the house around 5. I thought that would be okay, but when 5 o’clock came around, and I was engulfed in the Astros game, we waited till about 6:30 to leave. By the time we got there, the line to get into the stadium was HUGE. We started walking in line, only to realize that the line was about 1000 people long. So instead of going to the end, when did what Bolivians do, we cut in line. I don’t know how we did it, but we were lucky enough to weasel in front of at least 600 people. As we got in line, people in the back started pushing and suddenly the line transformed into a moshpit. I got plastered between people. Then on a different occasion, I was waving my hand in front of Jessi’s face in order to get her attention, when I got thrown forward and my arm flew right into a soldier’s face. Opps! After about an hour of fighting our way to the front of the line, we got through the fences, but still outside the stadium and another line formed. As the doors opened, from the corner of my eye, I saw about 400 people rush the field next to the stadium and start jumping the fence. Some people made it over, some people played leap frog over the soldiers, and some got stuck on the fence. It was the craziest thing by far. I mean it seemed like there was about to be a riot. Once I got into my seat, I had to wait for another 2 and a half hours before the concert started. Then finally at 10:30 on a Sunday night, the Kumbia Kings made their way to the stage…and the crowd went wild.

Holla Son

That is exactly what I did when I found out that the Astros won in the bottom of the 18th, while standing in line to see a concert. Everyone around me thought that I was excited that mi equipo de fútbol won. When I told them that I think Bolivia and Brazil tied their soccer game, and that I really didn’t care. Everyone was shocked. As I told them that mi equipo de béisbol won, they laughed. Oh well…I mean we all can’t be perfect and holla for the Astros. BrainO! the Cards are going down!!!

GO ASTROS!

Damn it feels good to be a Bolivian

Alright so over the last few months I have started to feel really comfortable around Cochabamba. I mean I am beginning to know my way around the city and know what to look for. It’s great. However, over the past three days there have been 2 interactions that have made me feel truly Bolivian. The first was on my way home from the post office the other day (read my prior post You got the stuff?) So I got out of the Trufi at the Cala Cala Plaza. I got out and started walking down Simon Lopez (I know these names don’t mean much but suck it up and read them) towards my house. About two blocks away from Jamie Mendoza, where I turn to go home, a friendly lady approached me. As I was walking, minding my own business trying to keep the rain out of my face, some lady asked me a question. “¿Iglesia de Cala Cala?” she asked. Usually when people ask me these questions, I look at them and tell them in my most respectful Spanish that I am not from around here. They look at me like I am crazy, cause I am walking around this area and that I must surely know something, and usually I or them walk off. However, today was different. This lady asked me where the church was in Cala Cala, and since Santa Ana is one of the 8 places that I am familiar with in Cochabamba I knew this answer. It also helps that I had just past it like 3 minutes earlier. I told her to continue straight and that it would be on her left. She looked at me and gave me a sincere “Gracias” and walked away. As I headed back to my house, I noticed that I had a little bounce in my step and was like yeah that’s right…I’M THE MAN!

My second experience was this past Sunday. I usually go to mass around 7:30 PM on Sundays. For some reason it just feels right, maybe because back at school mass was in the evening or maybe cause it’s the only one that I have been to. However, this past Sunday I wouldn’t be able to attend since I was going to see the Kumbia Kings in concert. So I decided that I would go in the early morning/afternoon. So after we went to by our tickets Sunday morning I had some time to kill. I start reading The Far Side which is always a good way to kill time. Then I realized that I had no idea what time mass was. I figured it was at 11:30 but my family assured me that it was at noon. So ten minutes till the hour, I started walking to mass. By the time I got there at 12:02, I could hear the priest saying a blessing. I had gotten to mass late. I was completely shocked, mass started on time. So as I walk to my seat in the back, so as not to disrupt the mass to much, everyone started shaking hands and started forming a line. I was kind of confused, and then realized that I had gotten to mass not 2 minutes late…but an hour and two minutes late. Communion was starting. After mass I walked out, only to find Emily and Ryan laughing at me. Basically they told me that I am becoming a true Bolivian, attending mass only for communion and then walking out.

You got the stuff?

Well today has been a pretty easy day. Since our group got back on Wednesday the Instituto gave us the rest of the week off. Kind of like a vacation from a vacation. So I got to wake up late (let me remind you that “late” means about 8:30) and just chill. I woke up and had my bread and tea. Once the house emptied out I decided to burn my pictures to CD so I could send them state side and have someone upload them for me. This procedure was a little harder that I expect. Mainly due to the fact that the program I was using was in both English and Spanish. So what should have been a very simple task ended up being a battle of wits…or a battle of languages. In the end…I prevailed. After lunch, I checked out an internet café to find out if I burned the CD correctly. So I walk up to the nice lady and ask for a computer, only to realize that none of the computers have a CD Rom. Just my luck. However, I decided to take the opportunity (I mean since I had a computer at my disposal) to send some random e-mails and check some random things. As I was in the middle of my great e-mail to some friends, the internet went dead. The whole café lost its internet connection, and now I was completely out of things to do…so I chucked the deuce and walked out. I went to the Instituto and used their CD Rom and found out that I actually did burn my pictures correctly. After this I decided to go to the Post Office downtown so I could send my CD to my parents. I hoped on a Taxi-Trufi (a taxi that runs on a route…something like a bus but in car form) and got downtown. I found what I thought was to be the post office and very calmly walked up to the caja. I asked the lady in my nicest and most polite Spanish “That I would like to buy stamps so I could send some letters to my family in the United States.” The lady then laughed at me and told me that I wasn’t in the post office and that I should consider walking down three buildings. I went ahead and thanked her for her suggestion and told her that I would CONSIDER going to that building. As I walked out I learned that Bolivia Express doesn’t mean express mail…but is a sign to sucker poor saps like me into thinking that they can buy stamps in a store that doesn’t sell them. Once I got to the post office things went well. I was able to buy my stamps and then I was off. The only thing is that the Bolivian mail system isn’t the most reliable so who knows if I my letters will ever reach their destinations. After that I went out to buy a card for Caitlin. I figure that Caitlin would like a “Get Well Better” Card versus a “Te Amo Con Toda Mi Alma” Card, I finally found a shop that sold them. I guess this whole love thing is a big in Bolivia, who would have known? So I went up to pay for the card and realized that I didn’t have any money. However, after checking my wallet I found 5 dollars and tried to pay with that. The lady looked at me and said that she could only accept Bs and that I should go down to the corner of the street and exchange my money with the people sitting at the corner. Alright…doesn’t that sound shady? I mean, think about it. Go down to the corner and exchange money with someone sitting down were the only directions that were given. Being the totally brave and courageous (aka stupid and a huge sucker) person I am, I went. I found this nice old lady who periodically screamed ¡CAMBIO AQUÍ! (Check that out…I am learning how to use this keyboard and all the symbols.) So I walked up to her as if I was about to make a drug transaction. I calmly got to her, looked over my shoulder and handed her my 5 dollars. As I waited for her to examine my cash, I hunched over and scratched my nose (covering up my face, in case there were pictures being taken of my transaction). After the “GODMOTHER (or in Spanish Madrina) decided that my cash was good, she reached into her pocket and pulled the biggest wad of Bs that I have seen thus far. I getting a little impatient started looking over my shoulder and then back at the Madrina, waiting for my “product” (aka my Bs). She counted the Bs out and as I reached for them, she stashed them into my hand so as no one could see what I had just received. Making sure that I hadn’t been ripped off any of my product I measured/counted what I had been given. Once I knew that this was a good transaction, I looked over my shoulder one last time and walked into a crowd, so as not to be followed. It was a really humorous experience…or at least I thought so. The only question that I had is how come that little fragile old lady hadn’t been robbed yet. I mean, every time I am in the Cancha (something like a street market or flea market) my family tells me to put my wallet in my front pockets, so as not to get it stolen. This old lady had her Bs out in the open and no one stole from her. Maybe she really is the Madrina. After getting my Bs, I walked back to the store and bought that card for Caitlin. Then I took a taxi and headed home. As a reward for completing all my tasks for the day, Emily and I went to get some tacos (which are by far one of my favorite foods here) that we had been craving for days.

Alright...First things first. As you can see my title to this entry is I finally gave in. After being harassed by several people for about two months (mainly my MOM) I have decided to give in. Also because Ryan keeps on updating his blog...I am looking really bad that the only way my parents know what I have been up to is through him. So yes, I finally gave in. Thanks to all yall who have been on my back.

Well I am still in Bolivia and having a blast. I just got back from a five day excursion near the Santa Cruz area to see the old Jesuit Missions. Here is an idea of what we did.

Saturday - October 1

Ryan and I woke up about 5:45 in the morning to walk over to Emily´s house (where Caitlin and her were waiting for us). We got there and caught a taxi to the airport. And by airport I don't mean anything fancy like Chicago, Houston, or Dallas...I mean a small little thing with only 2 gates. I thought the South Bend Airport was smallest airport around...but as usual I was proven wrong. We passed through security, who bascially just waved one of those metal detector wand-things in front of our faces and were then able to board the plane. Our flight to Santa Cruz was about 30 minutes. When we got there...we jumped onto our nice bus tour bus and headed off to San Javier. During our ride, we came to a bridge that we had to stop for. The bridge is only wide enough for one lane of traffic, so turns had to be taken. Thanks to the bridge operators, we got through in about 20 minutes. Rumor has that in the past the bus has had to wait at least 5 hours to cross. At San Javier we were welcomed by a group of students who danced and played some traditional dances. After lunch we were invited to the church and were given a private concert from this orchestra/choir. These guys were amazing. They sounded perfect and played with passion and the cool thing was that they all had been playing for less than two years. After this amazing experience we got back on the bus and headed to Concepcion. Here we were able to rest and find our hotel rooms. Ryan and I were roommates and stayed in the Gran Hotel Concepcion, where we felt like Kings. Mainly cause rumor had that the president and queen of Spain stayed in the same hotel when they were here. I mean, we were able to swim in the same pool (actually stick our feet in the same water cause it was cold) as these VIPs from Spain. That night as we were walking to dinner, we became part of a rosary procession that was walking down the main plaza. Since Concepcion (and the other pueblos we visited) only had dirt roads and the plaza was the area with the most traffic, it was crazy to be a part of this mass of people walking down the middle of the street praying the rosary. What was even crazier was how the people respected what was happening. Teenagers stopped their talks for a while, drivers stopped their cars, and men took their hats off as the Virgen passed by. It was these small acts of faith that made this night memorable.

Sunday - October 2

Honestly I don't remember to much from this day. I think we spent a lot of time on the bus and only visited one church. However, the highlight of this day was our hotel. This hotel was crazy cool. From my bed, I was able to control just about every light, the tv, and even use the remote control to control the AC. I mean...we had AC. That afternoon, most of us went to take a dip in the pool. However not having any cool toys to play with, we decided to go diving for Bolivianos (the Bolivian currency also called Bs by us for short). What started out as a nice game to kill some time, in the end became a fight underwater. Between Ryan, Steve and me, the game got really dirty. Punches were thrown underwater to prevent the others from getting the coins. It was a great time...and afterwards we all walked out alive. But the greatest thing about this hotel was the shower. Earlier, when we (Emily, Caitlin, Ryan and I) were in Chile one of the current HCA: Chile guys, Nate, told us that the shower in the Santiago house was the best shower in all South America. Well guess what, we found one better than Santiago and it was amazing. That evening, we went to mass at the local church. It was nice and we actually understood a lot of the mass. Everything was like a normal mass, until the last song of the night. About half way through the song all the power just turned off. The choir couldn't be heard, the lights were out, and the only light was coming from the candles on the altar. However, the most amazing thing to me, was that even though the lights went out..No one left. Somehow the congregation kept on singing and finished the song. The priest yelled his finally blessing and we all walked through the shadows very calmly and everyone saying hi to each other. I think this by far has to be one of the most breathtaking masses I have been a part of.

Monday - October 3

Today was a long day. We had to drive three hours to get to see some of the churches. Usually a three hour drive isn't anything to horrible...I mean that's how far it is from Houston to Austin. But driving down nothing but dirt roads tends to make the trip a little harder. However, the crazy thing was that every time we hit a bump, I would look out my window (which was closed) only to see dust/dirt coming into the bus. After 30 minutes into the ride, everyone in the back half of the bus was coughing. After the three hours of driving, lunch came. Iwasn't to hungry, seeing as how I spent the last three hours eating dirt. But of course, I didn't want to be rude..So I ate. The churches that we visited today were kinda of a blur to me. We saw three churches in about 2 hours and it was crazy. Each church was beautiful but all kinda of seemed very similar. The one that stood out the most was San Miguel, mainly cause it was name after the Archangel Michael. It was beautiful and the altar was amazing. At each church we were welcomed by a member of the parish, who most of the time shared his musical talents with us. In Santa Ana, a few of our members were allowed to play the organ together, and that music soared through the church and out into the plaza. After all the tours for the day we took that great 3 hour trip on that bumpy dirt road back to Concepcion for the night.

Tuesday - October 4

We left our hotel and visited one of the local Tallers (something like a vocational school) in Concepcion. We got to see the Taller where the students get to spend 3 years learning the arts. I was able to talk to a few of the students who were 3 year students about to finish their classes. These individuals had a wonderful talent. I was looking at one student who was putting a few of the final touches on Jesus, before the student attached him to the cross. The details that this student placed on the image were amazing. He showed me a regular block of wood about 3 feet by 5 feet and 2 feet wide, and told me this is where he made his Jesus out of. Of course I took some pictures of him working, and hopefully will be able to upload them soon enough. After this, we left for Santa Cruz. In Santa Cruz we checked into our hotel, a Best Western, ate and just relaxed. After what seemed to be a 5 hour bus ride we were beat.

Wednesday - October 5

Well today I finally got to sleep in late. I got to sleep til 9:30ish. I mean I haven't slept that late in who knows when. It was great. As Ryan and I ran to breakfast at 9:50 (breakfast ended at 10) we stepped outside only to find it raining and a bit cold. We ate breakfast and instead of venturing outside to explore Santa Cruz, we went to check out the latest on any sports. I found out that the Astros made the wild card and are going to play the Braves. I was excited...and still am..Seeing as how I have no idea who won last night and will check in the next few minutes. We packed our stuff and the whole group headed to the airport. The funny thing was as we boarded our flight...We didn't go through any security whatsoever. Nothing at all. I mean, when was the last time you went to an airport and didn't have to go through a metal detector? I as walked to our flight..Since I was assigned a seat in the last 4 rows of the plane...I was told to enter the plane through the back end, which was another cool/new experiencee. I got "home" around 3 and talked to my hermano for a while..Then took a nap. The past few days were amazing and I cant wait to send yall pictures.

Well I think that is it for my first blog entry. I will try to keep this updated so Idon'tt have to send to many impersonal e-mails..Butt notice the key word was TRY. Take care.