It's Almost Christmas and I have a third degree sun-burn!!!

I am alive!!! I am doing much better. I think I killed what was killing me. I have more energy now. Thank you for all your prayers and concerns.

A few things to catch you up on. I experienced my first Japanese funeral. I felt like a white person in Compton, or a black person in Newport Beach. In other less racist words, I felt out of place and isolated. I was under the assumption that it was going to be a small funeral. Well, no. It looked like every Japanese came from all over Bolivia for this funeral. I didn’t count but it looked like thousands of Japanese were there. Yet not a sound. You could only hear the nuns and family praying. All the Japanese people formed a long line to pay their respects.

I was off in a dark corner looking creepy. Some people noticed me and I felt ashamed. I don’t know why? I decided to go to a more secluded place so I went behind the building. There nobody could see me, except the dog that was tied up and looked like it wanted to eat me alive. Even the dog was judging me. I looked in the window like a stalker and saw what went on inside the room where the body was. It was really interesting to see the following.

First the couple or family walk up to a picture of the person that passed away. The body is next to the picture, but they seem to not notice it. They put their hands together and bow for a little longer than usual. Then they light a little stick of incense and wave it around the picture. They place the incense in sand and it stays lit. Then they turn to the family and bow. Then they leave.

Every person brings with them food, gifts, and money. The people stay for a little longer after they have paid their respects, but leave very soon.

I didn’t know this! I thought Sor Maria was going to pray all night. So I made the biggest mistake of leaving. I thought she would call me when she needed a ride. Well she did call me, 20 minutes later, when she was already home. Some other person had taken them home when they heard I had left.  It hadn’t even been an hour since arriving. I was caught off guard.

When I got to her house I felt like a teenager going home to her parents knowing she is going to get it! I was scared. She was calmly sitting writing something. That scared me even more. When I got there I explained to her why I left. She said everyone was staring at me because I was wearing red. Red is the most offensive color you can wear to a Japanese funeral. The second most offensive thing you could do is leave without paying your respects to the family or dead body. Double wammy! It’s safe to say I screwed up BIG TIME!

I walked back home with 100 pounds of humility. In a way I was glad I didn’t pay my respects because I probably would have done a poor job and offended more than helped. I probably would have touched the body or smiled and that would have been worse.

Thankfully the next day I had to go to Montero for Madre Anita’s vows. It felt like going home after being in a country where you pissed off the president and everyone knew it. It was nice to be back at the Hogar. There I know my presence alone is not offending anyone. The girls greeted me like usual, like Justin Biever in a room filled with teenage fans. I needed that. I needed my Ego to be scooped off the ground and they knew just how to do it.

Madre Anita’s final vows were beautiful. For those of you who don’t know what that is, I will explain. It’s like a wedding but for nuns. It’s beautiful! There were tonz of priest and Bishops. Even the Pope’s right hand was there. Madre Anita’s dad is a Deacon and he participated a lot in his daughters wedding. Her family was there too. Her friends from college and other priest flew from the states to be there for that special day. The church was packed! Everyone there was there for her. It was seriously the most beautiful mass I have ever been to.

After wards there was a party that was just like a wedding reception. Everyone was having a lot of fun. The dinner was really good. Madre Anita was glowing! I asked her during dinner, “where the groom was?” With a big smile she pointed to her heart. It was the cutest thing ever!

For those who don’t know who Madre Anita is I will tell you a brief history. A hundred years ago Madre Anita came as a volunteer just like me to the Hogar. She came with the same congregation. She served her year and felt a higher calling. She went home back to the states and tried looking for Orders to join there. She decided her calling was here in Bolivia with a sub order of Franciscan sisters, based in Poland. She has been here since.

I look up to Madre Anita a lot because of the radiance she gives off. One look at her and you know she is a living saint. And that’s not just because she wears a white habit. She makes everyone feel like they are the only one’s in this world. Her smile lights up the room. She is truly an inspiration to everyone around her. I know anyone that knows her would agree with me. I know that as a volunteer, I would not have survived the year if it weren’t for her. I know the other volunteers feel the same way.  I could go on and on, but I will stop there before I sound creepy.

The next day I get an angry call from Sor Maria. I knew it was time to head back. Again I was heartbroken to leave the place I called home for a year. I knew it was time for another talk with Sor. By this time I had grown so distraught that I was ready to call my director and ask to be transferred to another site.

Thankfully the translator was able to translate that same night. We all sat down and I begin telling her everything I felt. I also heard her side. It was a long talk but a good one. We both had clearer expectations and found some middle ground. After our talk we went to mass and she apologized. It was nice to hear that. I apologized too. Ever since then things have been soooooooooooo much better.

I am even fonder of her now. I find myself enjoying her presence and understanding her humor. I love my site even more. The community has received me so beautifully. I am always coming home with gifts from all my students.

One of the families I have gotten really close to; invited me for lunch at their house. The family’s name is Massumotto. They have been so wonderful to me since I have arrived. They have truly accepted me and helped me through a lot. I feel so in debt to them. Ayko is the mom’s name. Yuki (her daughter) and Aron(her son), are my students. Ayko is a wonderful lady with a beautiful heart. She is so humble and service oriented. She is one of those ladies you know you can come to with any problem and she will drop what she is doing to help you.

It was so nice going to be at their house. It was nice to talk to someone in complete sentences. Their Spanish is perfect. Like always I talked a little too much. But it was nice to learn about their culture and learn the “what not to do.” I am so interested in their culture. It is so different than anything I have ever encountered.

I learned how to make sushi. It was easier than I thought. I think it’s because everything was ready. I ate such good food. There were 7 delicious items on the table. I loved every single one of them. Yuki was the one that did most of the cooking while her mom sat and chatted with me. I know if my mom would have been there she would have turned to me and said, “see that’s what I wanted you to be like.”

After lunch we all talked for a while. Then we went on a little road trip. I went to “La Enconada,” which is a smaller town than this one. The way there is filled with beautiful scenery. We drove by their rice plantation, which is 100 acres. They are very wealthy, but you would never guess, because they are so humble and conservative.

The week went by as usual. Sor left to Cochabamba for a few days. I had permission to use the car. On Friday I needed to go to Immigration and I took the car. On the way there I had a mini car accident. To make a long dramatic story short, I swerved off the road to avoid hitting a semi, and went over some stacked up pieces of asphalt. The car finally came to a stop and I was sideways on a ditch. The car almost tilted.

Let me remind you there is no AAA here, and tow trucks are 2 hours away. I got off immediately and saw that the car was not damaged. The outside at least. When I lifted up the hood the radiator was dented in. The fan was cracked. I didn’t know what to do or who to call. It was 5:30 AM.  I was ok. All I had to show for my dramatic morning was a black eye.

Thankfully my Brother Bear (Marcos) was 20 minutes away. I woke him up and like a big brother that he is, he took care of the situation. He helped me out so much. I don’t know what I would have done without him. We decided to not do anything until the Sor got back from Cochabamba. I was so scared of what she might say to me. We had been doing so well and I didn’t want to ruin that.

I decided to work on her garden to cushion the blow. I took out all the weeds and cleaned her whole house. I had called Ayko Massumoto to let the Sor know so she would be prepared. I also asked her so Sor would understand completely and she wouldn’t be worried. Ayko could not get a hold of her.

However Ayko brought me some delicious lunch and on top of that she sent her daughter to help me. In the evening her and her maid came to help me with the garden. Let me remind you that Ayko is a busy lady. Yet she took time away just to help me. I have no words to express the gratitude I feel for this family. They are wonderful people who truly live out their fait.

The next morning Sor showed up. I was not expecting her for another 2 days. She had not heard the news yet. I told her and her response shocked me. She calmly said it was ok and to not worry. I almost couldn’t believe it. I thought for sure I would have gotten whipped or something. I was so glad she responded like that. That same day I got my phone stolen.

I know there are many lessons to learn from all of this. I still don’t know what they are yet. I do know that God gave me the grace to see how He takes care of me, even amongst the tragedies. I feel all of this has gotten me closer to trusting God.

It’s almost Christmas and nothing here makes me feel the Christmas spirit. It is 150 degrees outside and nobody has any decorations in their houses. The only thing reminding me, are the candles in the advent wreath. This is my second Christmas away from my family. The feeling of being far away from them is indescribable. As much as I want to be there, I can see why God wants me here. I just hope I don’t have another break down like I did last year.

All right, time for the funny story before I end.  Just to refresh your memory I live in a very small town. Anyone that lives here knows I don’t belong here. Sor put me to cut the grass around the church and in front of the church. I hadn’t cut grass since I was 10. So there I am in front of the church, the busiest street and time of day. It took me a good 15 minutes to just get the lawnmower started.

The funny part was that I had an audience. The people passing by actually stopped to just stare at me. Even the people in their cars would pull over to watch me cut the grass. I felt so uncomfortable. I didn’t even know where to look. I could tell I was doing a bad job. I didn’t know if I was being stared at because I was a girl cutting grass, or because I was the most interesting thing to watch in this town.

I normally love attention. But that felt like rape. I wanted to go to my house and crawl into my bed. It took me 47 minutes to cut the grass. The grass was really tall and the lawnmower kept turning off. I felt every second hitting my face. I hope to never go through that again. I don’t think that is something I could get used to.

Ok well thank you for reading all the way through. I know these are long but they are directed toward those who genuinely care about me and want to hear about my experience. I wish you all a Merry Christmas! Please enjoy your families and do not take them for granted. Remember the reason for the season! CHRISTmas!!!

Graduations and a trip to the hospital!

To start where I left off…

Thanksgiving weekend was fun here. I was still sad to not be with my family but at least I had Marcos here. I feel really lucky to have a family member close by. I know last year was really hard without my family. This year God gave me the gift to have my Brother Bear 15 minutes away.

Marcos and I were both Godparents for the 3 girls that graduated from the Hogar. He was in La Paz last weekend so he didn’t get to go to the first 2 graduations. I took the 2 girls out to dinner and was with them and their families.

Note about Bolivian graduations; they are extremely long and let me remind you we are all in a room that has no A/C and it’s 200 degrees outside with 100% humidity. It’s safe to say they are not fun. But being that I love the girls and not many people here get to graduate from high-school, I put up with it to see them smile as they walk down the aisle. By the end of it I get so dehydrated from sweating and tired from all the noise, I just want to go home and sleep.

Thanksgiving weekend was Nataly’s graduation. Marcos was able to go. After graduation her and her family decided they wanted to go to Yapacani to have dinner. Yapacani is an hour away from Montero where we were. Let me remind you that nobody here drives, or has a car, so to get from one town to another, we have to rely on a system that consists of pissed off drivers chewing Coca leaves. Needless to say it was 8 when we finally left Montero. Not all the people that were going fit so we had to hire a taxi driver to take us. Which means he charges double for each person. Somewhere in between picking up a random lady who sat motionless in the trunk of the car, and going 25 MPH, we finally arrived 2 hours later to Yapacani.

We had dinner at a chicken place that was more like a truck stop. There the grad, Nataly got into her very fancy graduation dress. She looked like Barbie in the ghetto streets of L.A. Genesse (a former volunteer) and I wanted to head back to Montero after dinner. We were responsible for the other girls that accompanied the grad. After seeing her so pretty and excited we could not let her down. So all of us went out to a “Discoteca/Karaoke.”

We danced all night and I actually had a lot of fun. I must admit the Karaoke was a little too much, but we survived. Between feeling guilty and not wanting to let the girls down, we finally left the place at 2am. Genesse and I were worried about getting back. We were told to just stay the night there. Thankfully Marcos and some other volunteers live there. We stayed the night at their place. We slept for an hour and half then we headed out to Montero at 5am.

The girls and I slept the whole way back. We all got ready for Mass and then came home and slept. I could only sleep an hour. Genesse slept the whole day. We still couldn’t get over the randomness of the previous day.

Monday came and so did all my responsibilities.  My body felt like a Piñata after all the candy has been beaten out of it. I thought it was because I hadn’t slept well all weekend. Not knowing that my body was fighting a war inside of me. A war that would lead me to the hospital the next day. DUN, DUN, DUN!!!

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with vomiting and Diarrhea. There was nobody to help me or take care of me, so I had to stick it out. Finally at 7am I called Sor Maria and she came. She was upset at me for being sick. She also looked like she didn’t really believe me. She left and I stayed all day by myself in a pool of despair. I could not stay awake for more than 5 minutes. I would just run to the bathroom and fall back asleep. Thankfully my bathroom is so small that I could be on the toilet and puke in the shower at the same time. It came in handy this time. TMI!

I couldn’t eat or drink anything. The old man that lives next to me would occasionally pop in and check up on me. He would yell, “Señorita, todavia caca de pato?” Which means, “Are you still pooping like a duck?” He then brought me some medicine in an unmarked bag and told me to take it. There is no way Japanese people take “no” for an answer. So I swallowed what looked like deer poop. It stopped my duck poop. I slept until Sor finally came at 5pm. She said very sternly that I needed to go to the hospital. I knew, no, would not be accepted but in this case I am glad I went.

I was delirious by the time I got there. My blood pressure was 80/50 and I had a fever of 102. My tongue was white as snow. I was admitted and drugged with more antibiotics than a wounded soldier. I must have looked really bad because all the nurses kept on staring at me and asking me, “Are you ok?” By this time Sor Maria finally believed I wasn’t faking it and changed her attitude towards me. She brought me water and some food.

The next day I was feeling a little better. Thankfully Marcos went to go see me. It was nice to have him there. The day didn’t seem as long. I still had diarrhea and they ran some more tests.  I spent another night there.

The next day was even better. I was able to get up and not feel like fainting. I was able to eat. The doctor told me I had an Amebas, Parasites, and Salmonella. No wonder I was pooping blood. I was released that day.

I am still not feeling too good. My stomach still aches when I eat but I have an appetite. These days were filled with lessons for me to learn.

First: Don’t ever underestimate Parasites.

The hardest lesson for me to learn was that I truly am nothing special. I feel like all my life I have been babied and now it’s time to grow up. But I don’t want to grow up!!! (In a winey voice) I am blessed to have an awesome family that always spoiled  me, but now I am in this other world that I can’t even really call reality. It’s hard for me to not be completely adored and loved. I have been all my life. It was especially hard when I was sick because that is when I would be babied the most.

I remember my parents would always say, “Al enfermo, lo que pida.” I guess I expected that this time. Instead my credibility was questioned and I had to prove my innocence. It was hard but I guess I needed it.

Living with Sor challenges me to grow in many ways. It’s a daily thing battling between my pride and her comments. It’s also hard to live up to her expectations. I’m back at work now and I still don’t feel too good. But please don’t get me wrong, I am very fond of her, and she does have a kind heart. I just have to realize to accept love even when it’s not in the way I give it, or have received in the past.

I feel God put Sor in my life to work on the things I need to improve on. I know I need to grow and mature. I also know I need to realize the world doesn’t revolve around me. (A lesson that I hate learning.) I feel this year will definitely prepare me for what the future holds for me.

Before I end I will leave you with a funny story. OK so I have never spent the night at the hospital before. However I was aware that the robes are put on so your back is showing and you have to strip naked. Well… let’s just say, that’s not the case in Bolivia!!! Here you keep everything on except, you wear the robe like a shirt. The worst part was, that the nurse was inside my room watching me undress, (YES, AGAIN!!!) when I asked her to help me tie the robe from the back. The rest is too humiliating to tell, so I will stop there. Good thing I’m working on my pride!

Please keep all the missionaries from around the world in your prayers. I have already felt so many blessing and graces for just being here, and I know that is because of everyone at home praying for me. I hope to keep you all updated often and enjoy the roller coaster of my year!

Thank you!

Princess Carmen