It's just politics people!!! (or IS it?)

I'm hooked! And given that my first translation of those I'm hooked by was "Tinku net" it's not surprising. And given the political nature of the organisation I've just commited myself to wholeheartedly volunteering for - Red Tinku (the Tinku Network) - the metaphor is even less surprising. Check them out at http://www.redtinku.com/. I just tried to access it but had to do a search for "red tinku" for the link.

If all goes well I'll be their official photographer for events and actions, their assistant archivist (don't panic! The ACTual archivist is a native Spanish speaker), and if interest is high enough, their English language teacher. This is the sort of English I want to teach, where I'm not struggling to inject political content into the class without scaring people off. These guys want English so they can read the instructions to opening the Floodgates of Anarchy!! (should the instructions be in English of course - we're all screwed if they are in Alemanian...)

Anyhow, I started my job photographing the advertising for a film showing in response to the violence of earlier in the day when political opponents clashed in the city. The silly gits (as far as I've worked out) didn't plan their marches well enough to avoid each others' path... or did they!!? Marches, clashes and much tension, then and continuing, is due to the upcoming elections on Sunday for a new Constitutional Assembly. There's more about this on the Democracy Center website that I've linked here (on the right). What is decided on Sunday will completely change Bolivia one way or the other. Some are scared that if Evo's factions get through then we'll plunge (?) into a Cuban Castro-like State (which IS a worry, but better than a Capitalist State of course), and others are afeared that individual state powers and independence over resources will divide the country and make us ineffective in the fight for global justice and equality... Or maybe I've got it wrong.

Anybody?

There are days when it's just too much. Or is it?

I thought I was having a bad day here in Bolivia, feeling all alone (where I'm not), feeling all useless and ineffective (which I'm not) and wishing I had it better (which I certainly do). The detail of my woes that I had all ready to spout out before I got here, huffing and puffing away about this and that - they're not really important all of a sudden.

I didn't know Angela Volan at all, except through the Marfan Syndrome website. It's far too easy to connect with strangers you create an intimate relationship to in other ways. Angela passed away a few days ago from complications related to Marfans Syndrome, and I extend my sympathy and condolences to her family and those who knew her.

Also, Daniel McKay, an avid culture jammer was involved in a fatal car accident last Friday. He was only 21. My thoughts go out to his family and friends. Daniel had a stoic passion and dedication to improving society through creative means. I respect his philosophies and will miss his energy. Jammer Paul wrote more:

Daniel McKay (better known as Why) amongst other things, built and hosted our website, and was an active stenciler. Some of his work was in the stencil festival held in Fitzroy a few weeks back. You've probably also seen his "Why? Why? Why?" posters stuck up around town, I see them in the city all the time. He was a big contributor to the jammers, did some great work on logos of all types, and donated a painting for our fund raiser gig last year. I recommend you check out his website (which is still up): http://www.askwhywhy.com/ What a loss... His funeral is on Friday, 2pm at the Uniting Church in Wallan, his home town.

Today I am in the country of my dreams with friends around and closer friends and family thinking fondly of me at home.

That's not too much.

Michael gets a little interested in the game...

Yes, I'm stealing this link from Patricia (one of my links, a worthy check-me-out) but it's important to remember why you're cheering for a country (or why not).

http://www.wdm.org.uk/whoshouldicheerfor/

The USA of course ranks pathetically last (again! not to hear their leaders tell the story - "we're number 1"...), while Ghana are the team to cheer for, even if they don't have their "star player" and are up against Brazil next June 27 (Brazil are 9th which is at least better than Australia, who just lost my support at 25th ranking. For those out of Australia (and those in, with their head in the sand) Australia stinks to high heaven human rights-wise, among other things.

Michael

p.s. Anyone get my mistake?

Although you never know what surprises might be in store...

For those who may be confused about my previous posting (I said that Fiona in her infinite wisdom cautioned me against the use of immodium which clogs you up (perfect for toilet-free bus trips but hell when you can't "go" for the following week) suggesting perhaps that she was here). Fiona's not here yet, to my infinite doofusness. The waiting that I can't do is more than when I said "I can't wait for the Spiderman movie to come out". I wish she was here, I wish I was there and if I was a Star Trek fan I'd be fantasising about teleporting to Australia, just for ten minutes, give her a cuddle and then teleport back, cos I'm sure that if teleporting was just invented they (the US government no doubt) would make my trip a priority...

However, the invention of the telephone (and more importantly, the invention of competitive phone card companies) has meant that Fiona can call me, tell me not to use immodium and hang up, no possibilities of any of her essence being caught up irretrievably in trans-whatever-it-is that teleporters are famous for screwing up.

I´m all better now. A powerhouse of immunity. If I were a mountain of silver and bad rice were the invading Spaniards I tells ya Bolivia would have a completely different history... or WOULD they!?

Love, your FNBC.

*Cough... choke* Happy...*hack* San Juan!

As my clutches for the toilet paper become fewer and fewer, there will be plenty of reaching for my hankie tonight as San Juan (whoever he is) lets the entirety of South America try out their pyromania, and the sky tonight and most of tomorrow (by all accounts) will become a dusty smoggy mess. Goodness knows why (as yet, except that it's the shortest day of the year) but all I know is that the celebrations that go with "does the cat burn easier than the dog" are something not to be missed. I may however, due to the tender state of my nether-regions.

Ah, such are the punishments of eating off rice in festival country...

Michael.

p.s. Just thought I'd send a picci I like that I took on the shores of Titicaca when we arrived in Copa - Copacabana.... don't fall in love....

Michael (still)

Australia's on a run, and talking of runs...

Hi all. Just wanting to give everyone the very important news, should you not have heard it yet.

Australia practically kicked arse yesterday in a draw with Croatia. I don't know if this is actually true. I heard we won first of all: 2-1 then that we drew. I would have actually watched the game at 2.30 in the afternoon but I was either asleep with the lack of energy that comes with one's system being comPLETEly cleaned out by a bug, or on the toilet in said process. I managed to avoid the use of Immodium, at the advice of my beautiful Fiona, who is always right...

My family (Bolivian) think it might have been the soy milk that can act as a cleaner-outerer, but I think it was the cold rice I was served up for dinner on Wednesday night. Who knows. What is important is (other than the fact that we are in the next round of the World Cup (unprecedented beyond even the most sports-allergic's dreams) - going on now to play Italy *wonders what Lygon Street will be like next week...*) that I'm feeling better and might even be able to teach some English today. Or catch the very cool comic exhibition that's showing at the Simon Patiño Cultural Centre (Mr. Culture they call me).

That all.

Your FNBC.

And it's A ... Ahhh, crap, we missed another one...

Well, you should all know by now that our secret weapon didn't quite work against Brazil. However we did play a very VERY good match and in my opinion just unlucky or as my students informed me this morning, unable to break the spell of the Brazilian Brujas who protect their goal from any opponents efforts...

Be sure to wake up early for the Croatia match on Thursday morning, where we will test our mettle and prove our worth for the next round.

By the way, anyone ever tasted Singani?

Your FNBC.

p.s. Marty's T-shirt says "You are NOT Brazilian" in response to all the Bolivians barrarcking for Brazil just because they are the best in the world. If Australia was the best in the world they'd probably barrack for us. But that's just my opinion... or IS it!??

Corrections and a bit of opinion risk-taking...

Thanks Patricia. Yep, the war with Paraguay then.

And yes, Australia is battling it out with Brazil on Sunday. I'm quietly confident that all will be fine except for the anxious cries of despair from the Northeast that will be felt at the loss to the underdog.

Charly the dictator. I'll have to explore. He looked seedy enough, waltzing in with the aplomb of the rich and couldn't-give-a-stuff. He did smash a whole vase of chicha onto the concrete for Pachamama. But then it looked like he didn't know a Mother Nature from a Mother.... nevermind...

AAAANyway, time for my favourite English class.

Your FNBC.

Costumes, Spiderman and more costumes!

Now there's some happening Oruro colour! It was Barrio Excambatiante's 50th anniversary today and over 100 young tikes and tikettes celebrated by donning traditional (really??) dress originating from Oruro. The area was resettled not too long ago by (and named after) the soldiers who battled it out in the war against Uraguay. One of my English students was dancing there today, hence my attendance. There are some shots with skirts twirling way above the decency line and others with the lads such as those above thrusting in unison. Overall quite a baudy affair!

Charlie, the dictator of Cochabamba attended with fanfare and applause (actually I think he's democratically elected and quite well liked... I just wanted to say "dictator"). I wanted to take a photo of him. He looks funny.

Anyway, time to finish off this holiday for Corpus Christi (where EVERYone goes on holiday except the restaurants and internet cafes) with a boozy chat to the girls at ECLA.

Chow,

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Bolivian Correspondiente.

p.s. OH! Talking of which, Peter Parker "reveals" himself... I mean, his "identity" to the general public in a press conference according to the latest issue of Spiderman. Who IS this imposter!!!

Political Jovenes, witches and the Club scene...

What happened at the Conferencia de Jovenes? I was late due to very VERY terrible directions from the lass who told me I should be there. I found the place, after an hour of checking out every likely establishment in the wrong area, my Spanish direction asking much improved by the occasion. The large, bare, old manufacturing plant room was physically cold but emotionally it was heating up with arguments of various and opposing leftist views. What was supposed to be (and for all accounts was) a gathering of some 35 young'uns from around the country to discuss the political hotspots of the day (and there are plenty including the likes of women's rights, nationalisation, and coca eradication), reminded me of the same such meetings of leftist groups I'm familiar with at home - leaving with a sense of helplessness that such groups may be meaningless, but with a contradictory feeling of solidarity, strength, hope. Without being able to understand a single full sentence of any of the speakers I can only postulate on the details of the conference... clearly. But my feeling is that I want to volunteer with the crazy guys who form much of the base of such action. This will at least improve my linguistical knowledge of political Spanish and certainly improve my awareness of what goes on here, again politically, although from a sometimes propagandically left view.

What happened AFTER the Conferencia de Jovenes? Well, I got involved in a bruhaha with a Bruja (pronounced Bruha with the gutteral J sound). I was walking down the road away from the conference, among old industrial wastelands on my side, and parkland on the other when I was approached by a little lad running up from four lean-to tents. He had a large round golden earring in his right ear, a vest, shorts, and no shoes. He insisted that I follow him back to one tent. I was curious. I did so. One of the open tents had an old woman lounging among enormous cushions and holding a deck of the Tarot. She popped up, looking like the Romanian Gypsy drawing you all read about when you were 9 (she indeed self-identified as a bruja, or a witchy/gypsy, quite the real deal, in fact!), procured a stony anti-tabula rasa from some area of her person, and proceeded to wave the thing around with an incantation along the lines of "buen suerte"-ing me. And in no pretty way, after spitting all over my own person (for good luck!), she dived into my pocket, and pulled out $120B. Now I have to point out that this is the FIRST time I've carried that sort of money around in my friggin' pocket (that sort! I know it's only about $20AU but it's TOTally relative!!). But there you have it. I was doing just that, in a dangerous part of town... Her hand flung out of my pocket, and with the body connected to it intending no similar flight, I was able to clutch said hand and began to grapple in the expectation that I'd be able to perform a session of reappropriation of wealth right there. She may have been around 70 but she was stronger than me, and as I continued to fail in reconnecting myself to my Bs. I saw the little shit who brought me there run off to another tent to, as it turns out, rouse the largish hombres to assist, and I'm pretty sure which of the two of us they'd be assisting. I bid a quick mental adieu to my moula and swore at the woman, let go of her hand and took off before the boys could no more than break into a trot. Me not stupid.

So anyway, I was GOING to give her SOMEthing for her trouble and generosity of bestowing on me her luck stacked spittle, so I guess this means that I'm in for some bloody enormous luck!

It rained heavily that night for the first time in three months, and the first rain I'd seen in Bolivia. Hope she got wet.

I've felt less safe and have been a little insulated lately, but now I'm fine. Still being careful and safe otherwise. Worry about me not.

In other news, I discovered the Bolivian Club scene with my Aussie companions last weekend. Latin American danceclubs are different to Australian ones... that's all.

Where's that invisibility spray...?

Capricorn

After a nice long slumber, some of your biggest insecurities are starting to wake up and look around -- don't be surprised if you suddenly feel a twinge of doubt about an upcoming meeting, confrontation or date. But this is a clear case of letting your fear drive the rest of your brain in the wrong direction. This is your best chance at turning this stinking thinking around, so keep chugging along in a brighter direction, and remind yourself that you totally rock (because you do).

I´m about to head off to a conference, the Cenferencia de Jovenes, a meeting of the leftest young minds this country has to offer, all speaking in Spanish no doubt! I needed that horoscopic, non-entopic, semi-entropic, quite on the topic piece of popic.

Piccis of the event soon,

Me in my Spiderman suit (in my mind).

Game's ON!

Right, so it did't take too long for me to become a footyhead.

The fever has kicked in so to speak, and I am now a full supporter of Iran, a team that isn't on the bottom but isn't on the top of the World Cup Soccer (oops, Football) Championships that has got this country in a tizz (even though we (Bolivia that is) can't play for granola).

My support of Iran comes after a deporteshead (sounds musical don't it!) from Australia at my work got me into the work competition. I drew Iran second from my two draws... Guess what luckily came out first....

Now anyone who knows me at all will know that even though I have some very good American (US) friends, I have a healthy disrespect for their country's policies and those "in charge" so to speak. So it's not a little ironic that I pull out the US for my other team. It wasn't since I was purposefully and cruelly placed in the US Olympic team at Gus' going-away party (I won best dressed GOLD! by the way) that I was so hard done by.

I CAN be proud to say though that (at an educated guess) I am the first person in the history of the world who will genuinely barrack for both Iran and the US at the exact same time.

So, to be clear, give all your energy to either of those two teams in order for me to rake in the $200 Bolivianos undoubtedly coming my way.

Lots of leather-bound love (soccer ball-wise that is),

Michael.

Gee this almuerzo thing seems to ALways get in the way of a good missive...

I thought I'd better give some info on this colossus. The Cristo de la Concordia, on a hill east of my city (I know this because directions are one of the first things I teach my beginner students (where is the Cristo??)) is 33 and a bit metres high, making it the highest one in the world incuding that of the Rio Cristo Redentor which stands at 33 metres (one for each year of Jesus' life - Cochabambinos poopoo that by saying that Jesus lived for 33 and a bit years...)

There are two thousand steps (some say) up to the statue from below, but I wouldn´t know. I DO know that the final 30 odd stairs that I climbed after taking the cable car (teleférico) embarrassed me in front of my tour guide (one of my English students). I might practice the 2000 stairs by myself...

That all - almuerzo time!!

Love your FNBC.

Geez! A camera and everythin'!

Yep, I´m a tourist. See me there revelling in the fact that I'm not the tallest whitey on the block!

Each of those holes are a lookout point when you get up into the big man. And I thought the moon looked particularly noice looking over his shoulder to make sure everything's in order.

Al muerzo time. Starving! Haven't eaten since... el desayuno!

It's another day, another month...

*a car passes by as he walks confidently down his own street, littered with bits of shit and an old aerosol can (as flat as the Golpe wrapper beside it, the former resting in the same spot since his arrival into Barrio Recoleta), and smelling of the remains of Q'oa, burning sweetly last night outside every participating establishment - a very community strengthening ritual (every first Friday of the month) of burning an incency mix of coca leaves, spices, traditional Q'oa plant and various sugary items of symbolism for luck from Pachamama in the coming month. Midnight Oil reminds him of the forgotten years on his MP3 player while normality seeps into his conscienceness, Guido his quirky Spanish profesor having just listened to that fast abstracting Australian band and calling it "cowboy music".

*he doesn´t flinch as that car swerves into the road he´s crossing, blinkerless and unforgiving, as he whacks it on the boot to let it know he´s there.

*he arrives home to his already prepared lunch, al muerzo, his digestive system now "used" to the daily intake of carne and he wonders if his favourite cafe will reap the benefits they wished for in last night's small, metal sacrificial K'oa alter. He hopes so, and looks forward to sitting down tonight with the owner's mum again to smoke and drink with her over his favourite gourmet sandwich as she lets him know more about the equally compelling troubles, triumphs and trials of her and her country´s life.

*enjoying his daily routine, which includes the peek into his internet inbox and the more and more occasional missive on his blog, his weekend will feel strangely empty without his students, most of them very willing subjects to his Imperial Language indoctrination - "Australia's a beaUUUtiful country. This is what the Opera House looks like (draws his rendition, complete with "NO WAR", on the white board). In Australia we give way to pedestrians and there are fines for dropping rubbish." One class thinks that he can understand everything they say when they talk Spanish. He thinks this is a good ploy and insists with a cheeky grin that it's not true.

*it´s Teacher´s Day on Tuesday and he feels a force of connectedness at the insistence of his students "surprising him" with a traditional meal to celebrate the day.

*a siesta that went an hour too long, being Saturday and no need to set his alarm, and the progressively sunless sky draws him to the street, and he feels a similar comfort as he stalks (his imagination often runs a little too wild) in the oncoming darkness.

Life is normal. It´s wonderful and trying, creative and boring. Excitingly new and comfortably familiar.

*imagines the Parque Nacionale Noel Kempf Mercado and he can't wait for Fiona to arrive.

*imagines Sydney Road and dries his cheek.

*it dawns on him that the K'oa can speak another message each month, this one to himself. It´s now 2 months since he left his home country and the day went by without note or fanfare, as will moreso the following months. Darkness falls finally, again, and it's time to find some dinner, like any other dog on the street.