-Tarija-
One day before my birthday. Remembering. Processing. Closing. Opening.
A year that felt like a lifetime.
Grow.
Flower.
Dry.
Burn.
Dust.
Grow.
Flower.
and so on.
There are some places on earth that feel familiar even if you visit them for the first time.
Was it the mediterranean like climate, the good friends that surrounded me or just my state of mind? We all felt home in Tarija.
We stayed at Casa Blanca Hostel. Warm water, a lemon tree, amacas, and eyes beautifully painted on the walls. On the plaza kids and adults playing with water. The whole city is on war.
A peaceful war of water.
We spend the first day at the countryside at this small village called Erquis.
Sergio and Ilsen, Caza and me…and in a while Elena arrives and joins us. We dance in circles dizzy from drinking chicha, a drink made from fermented corn to the sound of ancestral instruments, Erke y Caja. We are the only non Tarijeños but somehow we blend in…
Caza plays the big tambor and the locals honour him by dancing around.
The children once again, throw us water…but we don’t mind it. It is hot and It is still carnaval.
…Till the last drop of time that is left, we permit ourselves to enjoy Tarija’s wine,rivers, waterfalls, views, figs and wonderful people that magically accompany us.
We laugh at Caza’s flip flop that joins the river and he stays a monosandal, walking barefoot back to the hostel.
We laugh when I fall injuring my knee while taking a picture and have to walk back for an hour crossing rivers to catch our bus back to La Paz.
We laugh on our fortunes and misfortunes because we know that it is a privilege to laugh regardless.
The goodbyes are challenging, but necessary. A way to appreciate and take nothing for granted.
I see on a wall of Tarija the name of my country written in Capital Letters and I smile.
I have many more pictures and stories from Bolivia, but it is time to move on-back to a different reality that my mind resisted for a while. It is called cultural shock. I am craving for the altitude, for political talks about Evo Morales and indigenous rights, for the “buenas tardes” on the small buses, for the people I worked with and the friends I made.
It is Easter time.
Our Prime Minister is today in Russia, the media are still corrupt, ongoing negotiations, confusion about the future but there is a whisper of hope.
http://www.efsyn.gr/video/se-periptosi-poy-den-pethano-enas-ellinikos-psithyros-pros-tin-eyropi
I went to an antiracist rally the other day in the center of Athens. No police, freedom of speech, constructive criticism and solidarity to the minorities.
For the first time after a long while I did not feel angry or ashamed walking next to the parliament.
Tomorrow I have my birthday.
For the year to come I wish to
Grow.
Flower.
Dry.
Burn.
Dust.
Grow.
Flower and so on
for me, you and for all.
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