Semana de orientación
The first group of interns arrived last weekend, and my time since then has been dedicated to orientation. A lot of work, but Ashley and I get quite a few perks, such as meals out, concerts, excursions, etc. The influx of gringos and English was momentarily shocking, but easily overcome by the fact that the people who come here are generally muy buena gente, especially those who commit to long term programs, such as this group, which will be here six months – lots of experience, wit and will to really do something useful in the NGOs where they’ll be working.
Friday, we contracted a bus and set off for Pairumani, a park outside of the city.
Before leaving Cocha, we drove up the steep hill to the enormous Cristo, a project that incorporated the entire Cochabambino community several years ago. Everyone, rich/poor, religious/non-religious contributed money and/or labor in order to construct a common symbol, desperately needed by the city. My house is right below it, and I can see the gondolas and bitty figures trekking up the stairs every morning from the window while I shower.
Cochabamba’s backside, Danielle and Jess
Cristo’s backside
La ciudad
Sitting beside the river which passes through Pairumani, now dry, Ross, Rob, Danielle and Jess
Mauricio and his daughter Carolina (probably the most charming and precocious 2 year old I have ever met, prepare yourselves for some heartbreaking pictures in the future), plus a stray dog that adopted us and followed us around all day.
Just my luck to be working with an immensely sporty group of individuals. A day after I played volleyball for the first time in years with my host family (read: sore arms and bruised knees) I was pressured to play in Pairumani with a soccer ball.
Sore muscles in quechua = macurca
Friday, we contracted a bus and set off for Pairumani, a park outside of the city.
Before leaving Cocha, we drove up the steep hill to the enormous Cristo, a project that incorporated the entire Cochabambino community several years ago. Everyone, rich/poor, religious/non-religious contributed money and/or labor in order to construct a common symbol, desperately needed by the city. My house is right below it, and I can see the gondolas and bitty figures trekking up the stairs every morning from the window while I shower.
Cochabamba’s backside, Danielle and Jess
Cristo’s backside
La ciudad
Sitting beside the river which passes through Pairumani, now dry, Ross, Rob, Danielle and Jess
Mauricio and his daughter Carolina (probably the most charming and precocious 2 year old I have ever met, prepare yourselves for some heartbreaking pictures in the future), plus a stray dog that adopted us and followed us around all day.
Just my luck to be working with an immensely sporty group of individuals. A day after I played volleyball for the first time in years with my host family (read: sore arms and bruised knees) I was pressured to play in Pairumani with a soccer ball.
Sore muscles in quechua = macurca
posted by Kristin at 2:35 PM
2 Comments:
'La Kris' - I like it.
I am excited for you when I read of your warming person-to-person encounters, the quotidian but special things you see/notice/observe.
-sophie
y tambien el proyecto del Cristo atop the hill, el papel de este simbolo de esperanza para mucha gente.
Post a Comment
<< Home