Thoughts from rural Bolivia

I realize it seems a bit backward to begin a blog after you come back from a trip, but that's exactly what I'm doing, so suck on that. Unreliable internet access as well as limited funds (internet cafes are not expensive, but it adds up) and time kept me from keeping a virtual diary of my experiences/thoughts/feelings/all that good stuff on my study abroad in Bolivia.
This entry (and possibly many of the following entries) consists (or will consist) of excerpts from a journal I kept during my village stay in Bolivia, an experience I believe to be one of the most valuable I had in Bolivia. I began the journal as part of a homework assignment, which are generally in Spanish, but I chose to write in English for privacy reasons. The family I stayed with would often flip through my notebook, and ask me to translate what I had written. I depended on this journal to help me process the overwhelming differences in lifestyles, philosophies, and behaviors of the people around me and in the end, it grew to be my closest friend in the 5 short days I spent in Tiraque, a rural village 2 hours south of Cochabamba, or as the Bolivians call it, "el corazon de Bolivia" (the heart of Bolivia). Here are some of my thoughts during my stay in the village:

Never in my life did I think I would be watching Kung Fu Hustle dubbed in spanish in a Bolivian village with two small children climbing all over me. But it did indeed occur my firstday in Tiraque.
I really didn't know what to expect before I arrived in the village. I wasn't nervous, but I wasn't excited either. My mind was a complete blank, although I told myself I was just keeping an open mind.
When I arrived at the house of my new host family for 5 days, the first thing my new mom did was give me an overflowing bowl of potato soup. I actually enjoyed it, before I knew that that's what I'd be eating for 5 days straight. The family had 8 children, all under the age of 15. They were:
Lizeth - 14 yrs
Vismar - 12 yrs
Lisbeth - 10 yrs
Eddy - 9 yrs
Yaneth - 8 yrs
Rosa - 6 yrs
yon Kevin - 4 yrs
Leni - 2 months
The parents, Felisa and Fredi, were surprisingly young, too, only in their 30s. When I told them how old my parents are, they nodded gravely and said in Spanish, "Very old, your parents. Like grandparents."
I knew that I was going to have to be very patient and flexible in a house with so many young children. I'm a bit of a germophobe, brought up in my plastic-wrapped disposable world, and was somewhat horrified by the children blowing their noses into their sweaters and throwing their garbage every which way. Not to mention the 'bathroom', a hidden clearing behind the duck house. I wasn't so bothered by the fact that I had to 'nature pee', so much as paranoid that someone would see me.
They asked me when I first arrived if I wanted to stay in my own room (they had cleared out a small area in the potato shed). I decided to sleep in the same room as the rest of the family, because I felt that would truly bring me closer to them. Although the roof leaked, my bed was filled with fleas, and the youngest cried all night long, I slept really well that first night.

More to come...