Marci Soifer

After packing the dirty laundry, scattered gifts, and filthy hiking boots into my backpack, I took the final shower in my house. Once I emerged from the bathroom, Fabrizio and Belen had returned home from school. I hadn't time to put on clothes before they were already asking me if I wanted to play or if I was going out at all on my final night. I urged them to allow me to change into something other than the giant orange towel I recently purchased at the Supermercado, and jokingly, I said that I may stay or go out for a short while.

Belen got really into it, and asked me over and over-was I leaving? When would I come back that evening? After a couple of times, I thought...she must be kidding me. She asked and asked, no matter how times I answered her maybe, again and again...in front of me, to the resting Chris and Fiona on the couch, through the door of my room---is Marci leaving the house before she goes back to her country for always? It got rediculous.

Belen. So, when Chris and Fiona asked me if I would like to go out for a short while to get some Chinese food, I didn't flinch. I grabbed my leftover Bolivianos and said, "let's go".

As soon as Belen got wind that I would be leaving, she vanished. The house is not THAT big, so we immediately noticed her having locked herself in the bathroom. Fabrizio did not hesitate to tell us where she had gone and why - "she is crying in the bathroom. She is sad because you are leaving."

This was when I remembered that kids under 10 do not kid.

Giving them a little money, I told Chris and Fiona to go on to the restaurant without me and place bring some food back. I had to yell through the bathroom door for 20 minutes before Belen would listen-she was far more upset than I realized. Only when I got on a chair to show her my face through the bathroom window (on the top of the bathroom door) for her to see my face (and actually believe that I had remained in the house and was staying there) did she emerge, red faced and arms outstretched for a hug.

I helped the kids with their homework, we read a book in English, and we sang a few songs. By then, not only had Chris and Fiona returned with styrofoam containers full of fried rice, vegetables in light sauce, and dumplings, but Marisel and Willy also came home, with food in hand as well. They carried an enormous chocolate/cherry cake, with "Feliz viaje Marci" (Happy/good travels/trip Marci) written with dulce de leche. As a family, we all sat at the living room table, as we had done on the evening when I arrived.

We ate cake, told stories, and exchanged gifts. They gave me a beautiful woven bag, I gave the kids art supplies (including 2 full copies of English teaching coloring books they had come to love), and I gave the adults beautiful mugs I found in the market (because we drink so much tea). We took pictures, and swapped e-mail addresses and birthdays.

When it was time to go to bed, I slithered in and out rooms, hugging and thanking everyone for everything. Cleidy and Patricio told me not to go, and told me of how they really hope to come to New York one day. Fabrizio hugged me grudgingly, a frown prominent on his face and tears welling up in his eyes. Sebastian told me that he was going to practice his English for the tests we prepped a for in his school. Belen was no where to be found.

I left the house at 4:30 AM, and Willy and Marisel were up to see me out. They hugged me and told me to come back soon, please. I left a note on Belen's unfinished homework, "you didn't say goodbye/see you later. Write to me, and do art projects! I will miss you!-Hugs and kisses, Marci".

The streets were bare at this time of day-except, of course, a random couple passionately kissing on a street corner (classic Bolivia). As my taxi ascended the hills toward El Alto and the airport, I looked out onto the city-covered by patches of fog. Still, the city shone. The evening street lights up and down the Andean mountains illuminated the valley, the hills, and surely, all the way to Zona Sur (southern La Paz) and Obrajes, where the kids from my volunteer placements remained, now all fast asleep.

And now? I write this final blog entry from my aunt and uncle's home in New York, as I have returned. I can hardly believe that this adventure happened and ended, and I am back in the United States.

When I think back to Bolivia, I remember the energy, the hills, and the people. I can and will forever picture the traditionally dressed women-the cholitas-sitting on the sidewalks, street corners, and in marketplaces. Under a tarp or in a steel covered small hut, with all of their goods (toiletries, snacks, bread, or fruit) on display, these women are a staple of Bolivia. Their brightly colored skirts meet brightly colored mantas (blankets) at their backs, continuously carrying goods or perhaps a child, and their weathered hands and faces display patches of redness, smudges of dirt, and wrinkle kissed years much beyond them. Their eyes are wise and deep, their smiles missing teeth, and their short-brimmed hats resting atop pig-tailed, long braids, down their backs. They sit all day and into the night, waiting for a patron. All the while, they watch Bolivia pass by; the minibuses, policemen, kids en route to school, politicians, trucks with deliveries, men and women en route to work, the backpackers (many of them with rapid Hebrew), the buses pulling into town after traveling through blockades the night from Uyuni (haha), the show shining boys from the streets, and the volunteers. The volunteers who live atop one peak in Cristo Ray, La Paz, with a family who feels like family, and the volunteer who spends days holding hands, feeding, learning, singing, teaching, and laughing.

These cholitas see it all, and even though I have now gone, a piece of me feels good to know that volunteers will keep coming to La Paz and to Bolivia. If those volunteers are lucky, they will have an experience as meaningful as mine was. And, the cholitas will watch them pass by as well...maybe even sell them a banana.

To stick with my pattern from the last closing of my blog and adventure, and to quote "Madeline", "that's all...there isn't anymore."

Thanks for reading. Happy Passover, Easter, or any other holiday you may celebrate.