I'm at it again, friends.
I'm a little slow at getting the word out on here- in February I will be returning to Argentina!
To recap,last fall I spent 4 months in Buenos Aires with the organization Word Made Flesh working among vulnerable persons who make their living on the streets. My experience those four months was unprecedented. It is unmistakable that those four months have shaped me for the rest of my life.
As I am preparing for the return it feels odd to prepare for an expedition that I can anticipate to be familiar and yet at the same time so different. The seasons will be different- summer turning into fall. The language will present the same challenge and beauty as it did before. The colectivos/ buses will be just as inconsistent. The subtes/subways packed yet even more stuffy due to the summer heat and humidity. I will interact with many of the same people but some are missing and the absence will be... strange.
It is in fact some of the familiars that bring me slight anxiety.
But more than these anxieties, I could do a back flip thinking about reuniting to dear friends, sharing a mate gourd, deepening in community, and continuing friendships that have clung to my heart strings.
It has been a real challenge mentally preparing for this new excursion. I feel the need to block out any expectations based on my last stay in B.A and that's been really challenging. I am so desperate for God to reveal His intentions in this upcoming experience, but He is calling me to step out in faith. Once again I'm face to face with my Maker and He's saying "trust Me" and as my head drifts from His gaze to stare at my feet I mumble a barely audible "OK."
But He gently lifts my head and holds my gaze.
And I will hold His gaze and place my hand over His heart to feel the beat between my fingers.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Un ano pasado
It might sound cliche but it's hard to believe that a year ago today I was boarding a series of flights that would take me to Buenos Aires Argentina; these little journeys were just the beginning of a 4 month journey with WMF Flesh Argentina. At times it feels like it was some sort of epic dream and yet it's those sensory reminders that bring the memories flooding back in full force. Cigarette smoke mixed with car exhaust. Mistaking a billboard with a bag of mulch as an add for mate. Hearing the rare but beautiful flutterings of Spanish speech. Walking down a strip of sidewalk, feeling the concrete beneath my feet.
In the past 8 months since I've returned these memories resurface at random moments. While some memories are prominent others sneak up on me and yet I'm finding that even the most prominent memories, those details of everyday life in Buenos Aires, have become muddled and fuzzy. I have taken to writing down some of these memories, trying to muster up as much detail as I can with the lapse of time.
I remember one night having a conversation with one of my fellow teammates about the impact that a 4 month stint of time can have, how in 20 years or so what we will remember about such an experience. Taking into account the big picture of life, the span of years and the handful of decades that are held in life, 4 months really is a small portion of the whole. But I think even accounting for that reality, we both agreed that something significant was happening, significant enough that I am pretty sure in 20 years I will be able to recall the joy, beauty, brokenness, and love that came out of those 4 months in Argentina.
A mis amigos- Walter, Adri, Jen, Jer, Mateo, Amanda, Jason, La Iglesia Bautista de Constitucion, la Iglesia en Bajo Flores, l@s bonit@s en Retiro- y a Dios gracias, gracias por todo.
Y el viaje continua
In the past 8 months since I've returned these memories resurface at random moments. While some memories are prominent others sneak up on me and yet I'm finding that even the most prominent memories, those details of everyday life in Buenos Aires, have become muddled and fuzzy. I have taken to writing down some of these memories, trying to muster up as much detail as I can with the lapse of time.
I remember one night having a conversation with one of my fellow teammates about the impact that a 4 month stint of time can have, how in 20 years or so what we will remember about such an experience. Taking into account the big picture of life, the span of years and the handful of decades that are held in life, 4 months really is a small portion of the whole. But I think even accounting for that reality, we both agreed that something significant was happening, significant enough that I am pretty sure in 20 years I will be able to recall the joy, beauty, brokenness, and love that came out of those 4 months in Argentina.
A mis amigos- Walter, Adri, Jen, Jer, Mateo, Amanda, Jason, La Iglesia Bautista de Constitucion, la Iglesia en Bajo Flores, l@s bonit@s en Retiro- y a Dios gracias, gracias por todo.
Y el viaje continua
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Por Fin un otro blog!
I'm sitting on my parents' couch as their Christmas tree behind me creates a soft and warming glow, gently lighting the room. Outside the snow and threatening chill are enough to keep me inside. So, I am forcing myself to sit and write this blog as I have had to force myself to do many tasks the past week- unpack my bag (a task that is still only half done), upload my pictures (followed by a lot of crying), get up and go to church knowing I'll encounter the same question "How was your 'trip'?" and feel the need to somehow give an in depth response in the 30 seconds the individual asking lingers, and now writing my follow-up blog in an attempt to contain and order the thousands of memories that are bouncing around my mind trying to force themselves out in tearful, incoherent, "watch out I might throw up words on you" form.
I can't sum up everything; I hardly even know where to begin. And as much as I attempted to convey life and experiences from B.A throughout the course of my time there through this blog it still only skims the surface of what is held so deep in my heart. So suffice it to say, I will not attempt to convey the loads of memories that penetrate into my thoughts as I go about daily life and you can expect that the next few blogs will most likely contain some snipet of Buenos Aires life, a life that is not easily forgotten.
What I know so well now is the heartache of letting go. Adjusting back to life in the states has proved difficult. Here life has gone on without me, my family and friends are going about life uninterrupted, plunging into the holidays and the array of activities and demands that are ushered in by this busy season. I have changed, my perceptions have changed. This is what I've encountered upon my return.
I have my moments of paralysis, heartache, desperate needs for reflection that yield introverted introspection. There are certain things that do not feel natural anymore and I encounter expected and some unexpected longings for certain aspects of life from the past four months. Sitting on a dirty train station floor, dodging cockroaches in the kitchen, loading onto packed and stuffy subte trains, hearing incomprehensible Spanish, walking... everywhere, empanadas, squeezing in between the toilet and the sink to take a shower, speaking SPANGLISH, trying to figure out what we can make for dinner for under 60 pesos, late night card games until 2, 3 or 4 a.m, the intentionality of greeting everyone with a kiss on the cheek, singing in Spanish, sharing mate.
More than anything I miss the people; the little pockets of community that overlap each other in daily life; the little family formed over the course of 4 months of doing life together; individual quirks, laughs, talents, expressions, inside jokes.
The same tears that were common in our last few days now burn in my eyes; tears that signify goodbye. I have never been one that cries much but I allow myself the freedom to cry right now as I reflect on the last few days in Buenos Aires where tears were unavoidable all the same. Lots of "lasts" to be accounted for. Perhaps I can attempt to convey those last few days in Buenos Aires.
Our last Sunday at church was full or tearful embraces as the congregation gathered around us to pray and bestowed sentimental gifts on us.
Our last day at Retiro we passed time with our new friends sharing ham sandwiches and mate, all the while anticipating the showdown of eggs and flour, the typical farewell "gift"; tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes not only because I got hammered in the eye by one of those "goodbye gifts" but because I was so overwhelmed with saying goodbye to these beautiful souls, my new friends.
My last night in Buenos Aires, my final excursion in the city could hardly have been better spent. After dinner at the Deans' we- Matt, our friend "John" who lived with us at the church, and I- carried out a 4 month-long dream of going ice-blocking. The night before we started the process of freezing a massive chunk of ice in the Dean's freezer. We carried this block of ice on our bus ride and walk to Costanera Sur to a park with steep hills, perfect for sliding down atop a block of ice. We took turns speeding down the hill, balancing on the ice with nothing to hold on to but cold wet ice. When the ice chunk was reduced to small pieces that had split off(barely big enough for two cheeks to sit on) we took our turns throwing the chunks at the ground and watching them crash into even smaller pieces. We walked around the park enjoying the pre-summer night air, the city skyline view, and the company of good friends. We raced across a large rope structure called "la arana- spider" and walked on the strip along the ecological reserve eating chori's and ice cream bought from one of the many food stands lining the sidewalk strip. We decided to tackle the 45 minute walk through the city back to the church instead of taking a bus, in order to enjoy our last sights of the city. We walked quietly, pensively, and, at one point, barefoot through Puerto Madero, San Telmo, past Parque Lezama, and finally ending up in Barracas. John who is usually a jokster and exudes excitment was more quiet than usual perhaps anticipating the goodbye that lay ahead. I asked John and Matt to write something about the night in my notebook along with myself, a way to capture the cherished moments we spent together. This is what I wrote:
Esta noche parece perfecto para mi ultima noche en Buenos Aires. Hay dos hombres conmigo que son divertidos y unicos. Uno habla castellano y el otro habla como yo pero no importa porque podemos compatir juntos todovia. Eso esta un regalo.
It truly was a gift.
Our last day was hot and surreal. We spent much of the morning packing and cleaning and shared some time with John drinking mate terere before heading over to the Dean's, our last walk through Barracas and La Boca, for our final celebration together where we started saying our goodbyes to some of the WMF team.
It wasn't just saying goodbye, having to break away from living life with these dear friends, that instigated tears but the overwhelming sense of love that came crashing down on me in our final moments.
During our celebration at the Deans' that afternoon as we shared our last moments together as a team I felt that love as the staff gathered around us and prayed their blessing on us.
On the way to the airport as we left the city behind I tried to hold back tears but found them breaking through whenever Jordan, the Dean's oldest son, would occasionally hold my hand or talk about how he failed to lock me up in a cage so I wouldn't be able to leave.
At the airport we were met by Pablo and Sara, a Korean couple that pastor a church where we taught English to youth once a week. Their hospitality and the extension of their love in their actions was reiterrated in their coming to see us off, carrying gifts and momentos for us.
And I saw this deep expression of love stream down faces as we parted with tears and desperate hugs.
And I still have the ability to cling onto this deep love that I sensed in this unique experience of community, brokenness, and joy.
Where do I go from here? And I don't mean right now in my thought process. But what do I do as I deal with this heartache mixed with joy? Well, I allow those tears to come as I tell others about my new friends. I keep seeking the meaning of developing friendship at the margins. I keep speaking spanish even if no one around me understands. I drink mate, if only by myself. And I let this beautiful experience push me forward into the big picture that God has created for my life.
I can't sum up everything; I hardly even know where to begin. And as much as I attempted to convey life and experiences from B.A throughout the course of my time there through this blog it still only skims the surface of what is held so deep in my heart. So suffice it to say, I will not attempt to convey the loads of memories that penetrate into my thoughts as I go about daily life and you can expect that the next few blogs will most likely contain some snipet of Buenos Aires life, a life that is not easily forgotten.
What I know so well now is the heartache of letting go. Adjusting back to life in the states has proved difficult. Here life has gone on without me, my family and friends are going about life uninterrupted, plunging into the holidays and the array of activities and demands that are ushered in by this busy season. I have changed, my perceptions have changed. This is what I've encountered upon my return.
I have my moments of paralysis, heartache, desperate needs for reflection that yield introverted introspection. There are certain things that do not feel natural anymore and I encounter expected and some unexpected longings for certain aspects of life from the past four months. Sitting on a dirty train station floor, dodging cockroaches in the kitchen, loading onto packed and stuffy subte trains, hearing incomprehensible Spanish, walking... everywhere, empanadas, squeezing in between the toilet and the sink to take a shower, speaking SPANGLISH, trying to figure out what we can make for dinner for under 60 pesos, late night card games until 2, 3 or 4 a.m, the intentionality of greeting everyone with a kiss on the cheek, singing in Spanish, sharing mate.
More than anything I miss the people; the little pockets of community that overlap each other in daily life; the little family formed over the course of 4 months of doing life together; individual quirks, laughs, talents, expressions, inside jokes.
The same tears that were common in our last few days now burn in my eyes; tears that signify goodbye. I have never been one that cries much but I allow myself the freedom to cry right now as I reflect on the last few days in Buenos Aires where tears were unavoidable all the same. Lots of "lasts" to be accounted for. Perhaps I can attempt to convey those last few days in Buenos Aires.
Our last Sunday at church was full or tearful embraces as the congregation gathered around us to pray and bestowed sentimental gifts on us.
Our last day at Retiro we passed time with our new friends sharing ham sandwiches and mate, all the while anticipating the showdown of eggs and flour, the typical farewell "gift"; tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes not only because I got hammered in the eye by one of those "goodbye gifts" but because I was so overwhelmed with saying goodbye to these beautiful souls, my new friends.
My last night in Buenos Aires, my final excursion in the city could hardly have been better spent. After dinner at the Deans' we- Matt, our friend "John" who lived with us at the church, and I- carried out a 4 month-long dream of going ice-blocking. The night before we started the process of freezing a massive chunk of ice in the Dean's freezer. We carried this block of ice on our bus ride and walk to Costanera Sur to a park with steep hills, perfect for sliding down atop a block of ice. We took turns speeding down the hill, balancing on the ice with nothing to hold on to but cold wet ice. When the ice chunk was reduced to small pieces that had split off(barely big enough for two cheeks to sit on) we took our turns throwing the chunks at the ground and watching them crash into even smaller pieces. We walked around the park enjoying the pre-summer night air, the city skyline view, and the company of good friends. We raced across a large rope structure called "la arana- spider" and walked on the strip along the ecological reserve eating chori's and ice cream bought from one of the many food stands lining the sidewalk strip. We decided to tackle the 45 minute walk through the city back to the church instead of taking a bus, in order to enjoy our last sights of the city. We walked quietly, pensively, and, at one point, barefoot through Puerto Madero, San Telmo, past Parque Lezama, and finally ending up in Barracas. John who is usually a jokster and exudes excitment was more quiet than usual perhaps anticipating the goodbye that lay ahead. I asked John and Matt to write something about the night in my notebook along with myself, a way to capture the cherished moments we spent together. This is what I wrote:
Esta noche parece perfecto para mi ultima noche en Buenos Aires. Hay dos hombres conmigo que son divertidos y unicos. Uno habla castellano y el otro habla como yo pero no importa porque podemos compatir juntos todovia. Eso esta un regalo.
It truly was a gift.
Our last day was hot and surreal. We spent much of the morning packing and cleaning and shared some time with John drinking mate terere before heading over to the Dean's, our last walk through Barracas and La Boca, for our final celebration together where we started saying our goodbyes to some of the WMF team.
It wasn't just saying goodbye, having to break away from living life with these dear friends, that instigated tears but the overwhelming sense of love that came crashing down on me in our final moments.
During our celebration at the Deans' that afternoon as we shared our last moments together as a team I felt that love as the staff gathered around us and prayed their blessing on us.
On the way to the airport as we left the city behind I tried to hold back tears but found them breaking through whenever Jordan, the Dean's oldest son, would occasionally hold my hand or talk about how he failed to lock me up in a cage so I wouldn't be able to leave.
At the airport we were met by Pablo and Sara, a Korean couple that pastor a church where we taught English to youth once a week. Their hospitality and the extension of their love in their actions was reiterrated in their coming to see us off, carrying gifts and momentos for us.
And I saw this deep expression of love stream down faces as we parted with tears and desperate hugs.
And I still have the ability to cling onto this deep love that I sensed in this unique experience of community, brokenness, and joy.
Where do I go from here? And I don't mean right now in my thought process. But what do I do as I deal with this heartache mixed with joy? Well, I allow those tears to come as I tell others about my new friends. I keep seeking the meaning of developing friendship at the margins. I keep speaking spanish even if no one around me understands. I drink mate, if only by myself. And I let this beautiful experience push me forward into the big picture that God has created for my life.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Uruguay
Oh, the beauty of simplicity.
We came to Argentina on 3 month/ 90 day visas and in order to renew a visa all you have to do is leave the country. So last week Jen took us (STMs) to Uruguay which is right across from Argentina on the Rio de Plata. We spent 3 nights in the city of Colonia for a retreat taking time and making space to rejuvinate ourselves and spending some quality team time together outside of the city. You may recall my retellings of our last retreat when we went to Mendoza with Jer. It's interesting how different this retreat was- no mountains to climb, no precarious railroad bridges to cross, no hitch-hiking- and yet this second retreat, with it's stark differences, was just as revitalizing, exciting, and bonding. The weather was perfect, our aparment was quant, the town was simple and old enough to feel its extensive history, the people, that is the people I spent time with, are stellar, and it was freaking Uruguay! Perhaps going into detail about each day would bore you so I'll just list highly remembered moments and I am hopeful that you can at least experience a ting of the simplistic beauty that I felt in full force.
A campfire on the beach at night; sleeping in; dinners in the apartment; guitar on the balcony; playing Settlers of Catan (highlight!)or cards late into the night/ morning; bikeride around Colonia to the beach and through a park; watching the sunset's ascent into the water ; skipping rocks; dinner and live flamenco music; swing dancing and deep conversation on the roof, watching the moon set and falling stars make grand streaks across the night sky; beach time swimming in slightly less than comfortably frigid water (¨this is a river?!¨), conversations lounging in the sand; walking through town; and getting stamp number 2 in my passport.
Friday after returning from Uruguay and resting a bit Matt and I borrowed the Dean's bike and biked to the Ecological Reserve in Costanera Sur but not before getting some of the best Empanadas I've had here yet (I didn't think I'd miss empanadas until I ate these). We tried to go to the reserve earlier in the term when we took a bike ride on a rainy day but the park was closed, so I was excited to be able to finally go and ride through the reserve and sit by the river water. It's definitely a place I want to hit up again before we leave.
On Saturday, after spending a majority of the day sitting in the middle of the Feria at Recoleta getting my long awaited dreads started, we trekked all over the city for the annual La Noche de los Museos where all the museums in the city are open free to the public from 9pm-2am. It was a rare occasion to hang out with both Jen and Jer outside of their home while Jen's parents who were visiting watched the Dean kids. We first went to the Tango Museum and heard a couple guitarists play, then attempted to go to the congress house only to be let down b a long line to enter. So we headed to Palermo to see a Tango show. Buenos Aires if known for any one thing, is know for it's Tango, so this was an important experience for us to have. And was it! I was in awe to see such passion and talent taking place on stage. It is a riveting style of dance. We again were let down by the long line at the science museum (sorry, Jason) so we made our last stop at the Museum of Latin American Art.
As I wrap up this post I should maybe insert some deep thought reflecting on these past couple weeks. But all I have to say is
oh, the beauty of simplicity.
We came to Argentina on 3 month/ 90 day visas and in order to renew a visa all you have to do is leave the country. So last week Jen took us (STMs) to Uruguay which is right across from Argentina on the Rio de Plata. We spent 3 nights in the city of Colonia for a retreat taking time and making space to rejuvinate ourselves and spending some quality team time together outside of the city. You may recall my retellings of our last retreat when we went to Mendoza with Jer. It's interesting how different this retreat was- no mountains to climb, no precarious railroad bridges to cross, no hitch-hiking- and yet this second retreat, with it's stark differences, was just as revitalizing, exciting, and bonding. The weather was perfect, our aparment was quant, the town was simple and old enough to feel its extensive history, the people, that is the people I spent time with, are stellar, and it was freaking Uruguay! Perhaps going into detail about each day would bore you so I'll just list highly remembered moments and I am hopeful that you can at least experience a ting of the simplistic beauty that I felt in full force.
A campfire on the beach at night; sleeping in; dinners in the apartment; guitar on the balcony; playing Settlers of Catan (highlight!)or cards late into the night/ morning; bikeride around Colonia to the beach and through a park; watching the sunset's ascent into the water ; skipping rocks; dinner and live flamenco music; swing dancing and deep conversation on the roof, watching the moon set and falling stars make grand streaks across the night sky; beach time swimming in slightly less than comfortably frigid water (¨this is a river?!¨), conversations lounging in the sand; walking through town; and getting stamp number 2 in my passport.
Friday after returning from Uruguay and resting a bit Matt and I borrowed the Dean's bike and biked to the Ecological Reserve in Costanera Sur but not before getting some of the best Empanadas I've had here yet (I didn't think I'd miss empanadas until I ate these). We tried to go to the reserve earlier in the term when we took a bike ride on a rainy day but the park was closed, so I was excited to be able to finally go and ride through the reserve and sit by the river water. It's definitely a place I want to hit up again before we leave.
On Saturday, after spending a majority of the day sitting in the middle of the Feria at Recoleta getting my long awaited dreads started, we trekked all over the city for the annual La Noche de los Museos where all the museums in the city are open free to the public from 9pm-2am. It was a rare occasion to hang out with both Jen and Jer outside of their home while Jen's parents who were visiting watched the Dean kids. We first went to the Tango Museum and heard a couple guitarists play, then attempted to go to the congress house only to be let down b a long line to enter. So we headed to Palermo to see a Tango show. Buenos Aires if known for any one thing, is know for it's Tango, so this was an important experience for us to have. And was it! I was in awe to see such passion and talent taking place on stage. It is a riveting style of dance. We again were let down by the long line at the science museum (sorry, Jason) so we made our last stop at the Museum of Latin American Art.
As I wrap up this post I should maybe insert some deep thought reflecting on these past couple weeks. But all I have to say is
oh, the beauty of simplicity.
Monday, November 8, 2010
tres meses pasado
Almost three months ago I first walked the streets of Buenos Aires on a chilly grey day. I observed the many foreign signs marking stores, restaurants, street ads, and bus stops and wondered how I would navigate the city for the next four months with my little knowledge of the language. I began meeting people, first my fellow STMs Matt and Amanda, then Jen and Jer at the Aeropuerto in Buenos Aires, others living at the church- our new home, then the Forcattos, Jason, Dave, church goers, all who have become a part of my community and life here over the course of time.
I remember going to Retiro for the first time meeting Word Made Flesh friends and sitting on the station floor or outside with those selling papers sharing Mate (timidly for myself) for the first time. I remember meeting Mary and her family of 5 for the first time, she was timid as were her children as they interacted with me. Now when I see Mary at various gatherings she is not reluctant to hand off her one year old son to me, which I beleive reveals a closer and more bonded level of friendships, she trusts me with her children, and her children call me by name when they want me to play with them.
I can look back and vividly remember first helping with tutoring at the chuch for Apoyo Escolar and our first time teaching english to kids in Bajo Flores at the Methodist church. "How am I going to relate to these people? How will I pass two hours sitting here while conversation in spanish flies above my head? How am I going to teach these kids english?" are frequent thoughts that ran through my head.
We're more than half way through our time here and time is only flying rapidly by as December approaches. The streets have their familiarity to them, even the signs scattered about have become the norm for me to look at. I can navigate the subte and colectivos (transportation here) with ease- though often with the help of the Guia (guide booklet).People who were just acquantances have become friends and have brought a sense of familial community, especially within our Word Made Flesh community.
Community has been a major and quite influential aspect of life here. And my previous perception and romanticized outlook on community has been rocked, for the better mind you. It presents its many frustrations, frustrations that I have had to take to God and in turn ask for strength and love, I have had to choose love. We bare our naked inner selves even when we don't mean to. But community, I have experienced, always reveals in the forefront a redemptive beauty, beauty of individuals coming together, learning from one another, and doing life together.
The other day we ran into a friend who frequently attends Sunday service and afterwards enjoys a free meal with other men in the Comedor, an escape from life on the streets. We joined him as he sat on Montes De Oca Ave. and shared mate and conversation with him. While sitting with him one of the girls who usually comes to Apoyo Escolar for after-school tutoring passed by and ran up to us for a brief greeting. Other times I have run into kids from Apoyo Escolar when going to the store or walking the streets in Barracas. These are experienced when being a part of community.
Today when at Retiro I found that time went by too quickly. I enjoyed playing Uno and jacks using rocks, drinking mate (voluntarily), and attempting at conversation with the mother of the 5-month old baby I was holding. I don't mind so much sitting on a dirty train station floor sharing mate with friends with conversations in spanish buzzing by above my head. I don't mind so much exhausting myself playing with little kids; dirty hands grabbing for my attention, soiled bottoms sitting on my lap, taking hits from uncontrolled play. I don't mind dancing with my new, and in that moment smiling and laughing, friends in the train station to the music being played from a nearby kiosco. While the community at Retiro is often chaotic and brings the unexpected it brings also an unmatched beauty, being in relationship with these differing individuals. I came here to give of myself, to desperately hope to be God's light in ministry, and I'm finding that these individuals are giving to me more than they might know.
Many aspects of life here, some that I have already mentioned and some unmentioned ones that grind me daily, could deter me from having an enjoyable experience, the spoiled westerner that I am. And certainly many things have taken practice in getting used to. I have been stretched and challenged, pulled out of my comfort zone and adapted to a different way of life. But the more I experience the absence of luxuries and comforts the more I am able to bear, the more perspective I gain, the more I am able to see God, find beauty, learn tolerance, and experience growth as I kick my pride to the curb.
I remember going to Retiro for the first time meeting Word Made Flesh friends and sitting on the station floor or outside with those selling papers sharing Mate (timidly for myself) for the first time. I remember meeting Mary and her family of 5 for the first time, she was timid as were her children as they interacted with me. Now when I see Mary at various gatherings she is not reluctant to hand off her one year old son to me, which I beleive reveals a closer and more bonded level of friendships, she trusts me with her children, and her children call me by name when they want me to play with them.
I can look back and vividly remember first helping with tutoring at the chuch for Apoyo Escolar and our first time teaching english to kids in Bajo Flores at the Methodist church. "How am I going to relate to these people? How will I pass two hours sitting here while conversation in spanish flies above my head? How am I going to teach these kids english?" are frequent thoughts that ran through my head.
We're more than half way through our time here and time is only flying rapidly by as December approaches. The streets have their familiarity to them, even the signs scattered about have become the norm for me to look at. I can navigate the subte and colectivos (transportation here) with ease- though often with the help of the Guia (guide booklet).People who were just acquantances have become friends and have brought a sense of familial community, especially within our Word Made Flesh community.
Community has been a major and quite influential aspect of life here. And my previous perception and romanticized outlook on community has been rocked, for the better mind you. It presents its many frustrations, frustrations that I have had to take to God and in turn ask for strength and love, I have had to choose love. We bare our naked inner selves even when we don't mean to. But community, I have experienced, always reveals in the forefront a redemptive beauty, beauty of individuals coming together, learning from one another, and doing life together.
The other day we ran into a friend who frequently attends Sunday service and afterwards enjoys a free meal with other men in the Comedor, an escape from life on the streets. We joined him as he sat on Montes De Oca Ave. and shared mate and conversation with him. While sitting with him one of the girls who usually comes to Apoyo Escolar for after-school tutoring passed by and ran up to us for a brief greeting. Other times I have run into kids from Apoyo Escolar when going to the store or walking the streets in Barracas. These are experienced when being a part of community.
Today when at Retiro I found that time went by too quickly. I enjoyed playing Uno and jacks using rocks, drinking mate (voluntarily), and attempting at conversation with the mother of the 5-month old baby I was holding. I don't mind so much sitting on a dirty train station floor sharing mate with friends with conversations in spanish buzzing by above my head. I don't mind so much exhausting myself playing with little kids; dirty hands grabbing for my attention, soiled bottoms sitting on my lap, taking hits from uncontrolled play. I don't mind dancing with my new, and in that moment smiling and laughing, friends in the train station to the music being played from a nearby kiosco. While the community at Retiro is often chaotic and brings the unexpected it brings also an unmatched beauty, being in relationship with these differing individuals. I came here to give of myself, to desperately hope to be God's light in ministry, and I'm finding that these individuals are giving to me more than they might know.
Many aspects of life here, some that I have already mentioned and some unmentioned ones that grind me daily, could deter me from having an enjoyable experience, the spoiled westerner that I am. And certainly many things have taken practice in getting used to. I have been stretched and challenged, pulled out of my comfort zone and adapted to a different way of life. But the more I experience the absence of luxuries and comforts the more I am able to bear, the more perspective I gain, the more I am able to see God, find beauty, learn tolerance, and experience growth as I kick my pride to the curb.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Celebration
Over the past few weeks there have been a number of celebratory occasions that have added life to the weekly routines.
The Sunday after returning from Mendoza we had a birthday party for our friends' youngest child who turned 1. I've previously mentioned Mary (whose actual name I have chosen not use) who has three children and works most days, many hours a day asking for money at a local train station. Mary had been working extra hours in order to save up for the occassion- she has been a beautiful example of humility and sacrifice.
We traveled by train, a good two hour trip, to their home. Though their home is quite small (the size of a small room) it was very homey, filled with pictures, a newly received stove, a few trinkets and toys, one large bed that all sleep on, and a towering , though neatly folded, stack of clothes. Out front is a small a yard where tables were set up for the occassion and an asado grille was made from a spring rack. Many of Brandon's (Mary's ¨husband¨ whose name I am not using for his privacy) family came along with all of the WMF staff. We played soccer in the street with the kids, including some half naked neighbor kids, ate choripan (like a big sausage) from the grille and empanadas, drank lots of soda, and danced salsa- some of us being put on the spot to dance (I found my out from pure embarassment by dancing with the birthday boy or his 3 year old sister). The kids enjoyed a piñata that not only produced candy but flour as well when opened.
After a long day of traveling and partying, many of us fell asleep on the train ride back. It put into perspective the task that they go through often daily when traveling either to work or an event that WMF hosts. A few days later when I saw Mary again she asked what I thought about the party. I was able to honestly tell her that it was fun and I wanted to visit her home again.
Less than a week later we celebrated the Deans' daughter Selah's birthday. We helped the night before with some preparations, including, and quite importantly, cheering on Jen and Jer as they stressed over creating the skirt of a dress out of a cupcake for the princess cake topper. They succeeded in throwing a grand party with plenty of food- Jer's barbecue chicken empanadas, and confetti cake topped by princess cupcake dress- a blow-up castle that got plenty of play time by the kids... OK and some of us adults, a piñata, and an improv carnival activity by STM Mateo.
And as a perfect segue, Monday we celebrated Mateo's birthday. We went over to the Dean's in the evening for a thai meal of curry and coconut milk rice and enjoyed a once in a lifetime unique, unlike no other experienced hot tub on the terrace of the Dean's house created by a blow up pool and hose hooked up to the hot water. What it actually turned out to be was a luke warm tub in which we played random water sports, thought up by no one other than Jen Dean who is always looking for fun and randomness. Leave it to the Deans to come up with some ingenius and completely random activity. Amanda helped the situation of the lukewarm water by pouring boilied hot water into the pool. We ended the night with a team favorite activity of playing cards.
Last week was a busy one for me, with alot of preparations for Wednesday's celebration. This past Sunday was mother's day in Argentina so we chose to celebrate with our friends from Retiro who are mothers on Wednesday in a local park. Amanda and I were in charge of a lot of the details and spent the past couple weeks planning and buying little gifts to put together in gift bags. Jen, Adriana Amanda, and I met the girls at the park and passed the kids off to the guys- Mateo, Jason, and David- to keep occupied on the playground while we hung out with the women. We started by singing a few songs on the guitar, which many of the girls have been anxious to do since they found out that many of us can play the guitar. Then we had a time sharing mate and showing off our tattoos before moving on to a time of foot washing and manicures and pedicures. Many of the girls were insistent on washing either Amanda's or my feet and/or painting our fingernails or toenails before we were even able to offer our services to them. We then handed out their gift bags which contained, with other little gifts, a notebook we thought useful for writing down thoughts. They spent their time decorating their notebooks with some crafts we provided for them while we all ate brownies, strawberries, and chips. Certainly we had to make a lot of improvisations with such a group of eager women and jealous dads, who we had to chase off a few times, but more than anything I remember most lots of laughter, smiles, sharing, and the eagerness to serve.
In all of these events I experienced the various aspects of community. Community has been an idea that I had romanticized in the past. Since living here I have seen that while community is a good thing it is also very hard. And yet in the midst of its hardships it reveals itself to be a beautiful lifestyle practice. I share in life with those who have children, with those whose interests are starkly different from mine, with those who have enormously less materially than I have. This community yields celebration as itself is a celebration!
The Sunday after returning from Mendoza we had a birthday party for our friends' youngest child who turned 1. I've previously mentioned Mary (whose actual name I have chosen not use) who has three children and works most days, many hours a day asking for money at a local train station. Mary had been working extra hours in order to save up for the occassion- she has been a beautiful example of humility and sacrifice.
We traveled by train, a good two hour trip, to their home. Though their home is quite small (the size of a small room) it was very homey, filled with pictures, a newly received stove, a few trinkets and toys, one large bed that all sleep on, and a towering , though neatly folded, stack of clothes. Out front is a small a yard where tables were set up for the occassion and an asado grille was made from a spring rack. Many of Brandon's (Mary's ¨husband¨ whose name I am not using for his privacy) family came along with all of the WMF staff. We played soccer in the street with the kids, including some half naked neighbor kids, ate choripan (like a big sausage) from the grille and empanadas, drank lots of soda, and danced salsa- some of us being put on the spot to dance (I found my out from pure embarassment by dancing with the birthday boy or his 3 year old sister). The kids enjoyed a piñata that not only produced candy but flour as well when opened.
After a long day of traveling and partying, many of us fell asleep on the train ride back. It put into perspective the task that they go through often daily when traveling either to work or an event that WMF hosts. A few days later when I saw Mary again she asked what I thought about the party. I was able to honestly tell her that it was fun and I wanted to visit her home again.
Less than a week later we celebrated the Deans' daughter Selah's birthday. We helped the night before with some preparations, including, and quite importantly, cheering on Jen and Jer as they stressed over creating the skirt of a dress out of a cupcake for the princess cake topper. They succeeded in throwing a grand party with plenty of food- Jer's barbecue chicken empanadas, and confetti cake topped by princess cupcake dress- a blow-up castle that got plenty of play time by the kids... OK and some of us adults, a piñata, and an improv carnival activity by STM Mateo.
And as a perfect segue, Monday we celebrated Mateo's birthday. We went over to the Dean's in the evening for a thai meal of curry and coconut milk rice and enjoyed a once in a lifetime unique, unlike no other experienced hot tub on the terrace of the Dean's house created by a blow up pool and hose hooked up to the hot water. What it actually turned out to be was a luke warm tub in which we played random water sports, thought up by no one other than Jen Dean who is always looking for fun and randomness. Leave it to the Deans to come up with some ingenius and completely random activity. Amanda helped the situation of the lukewarm water by pouring boilied hot water into the pool. We ended the night with a team favorite activity of playing cards.
Last week was a busy one for me, with alot of preparations for Wednesday's celebration. This past Sunday was mother's day in Argentina so we chose to celebrate with our friends from Retiro who are mothers on Wednesday in a local park. Amanda and I were in charge of a lot of the details and spent the past couple weeks planning and buying little gifts to put together in gift bags. Jen, Adriana Amanda, and I met the girls at the park and passed the kids off to the guys- Mateo, Jason, and David- to keep occupied on the playground while we hung out with the women. We started by singing a few songs on the guitar, which many of the girls have been anxious to do since they found out that many of us can play the guitar. Then we had a time sharing mate and showing off our tattoos before moving on to a time of foot washing and manicures and pedicures. Many of the girls were insistent on washing either Amanda's or my feet and/or painting our fingernails or toenails before we were even able to offer our services to them. We then handed out their gift bags which contained, with other little gifts, a notebook we thought useful for writing down thoughts. They spent their time decorating their notebooks with some crafts we provided for them while we all ate brownies, strawberries, and chips. Certainly we had to make a lot of improvisations with such a group of eager women and jealous dads, who we had to chase off a few times, but more than anything I remember most lots of laughter, smiles, sharing, and the eagerness to serve.
In all of these events I experienced the various aspects of community. Community has been an idea that I had romanticized in the past. Since living here I have seen that while community is a good thing it is also very hard. And yet in the midst of its hardships it reveals itself to be a beautiful lifestyle practice. I share in life with those who have children, with those whose interests are starkly different from mine, with those who have enormously less materially than I have. This community yields celebration as itself is a celebration!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
What spring brings
It has been an exciting week, brought on by the onset of spring. September 21st was the first day of spring here (fall for those back in the states) which brings much celebration to the city. It is not uncommon to find people dressed in costumes and partying at parks around the city.
In celebration for spring the church we attend and stay at here in the city had their annual primavera difras fiesta (costume party). Having seen pictures from the previous years we knew we were in for an exciting event with much dancing, food, and some intense costumes. I decided to do a repeat costume that I had done in college and went with a Braveheart/ William Wallace look. I was unable to find a working scotting skirt/ kilt so I made do with fellow STM Matt's green and black checkered shirt- it actually turned out to be a really good looking kilt! Also donning a plaid scarf as a sash, sword, random ¨war jewelry¨, and the best parts blue face paint and messy/ attempted dreadlocked hair. Most everyone enjoyed my get-up especially when I would run around yelling ¨¡¡Libertad!!¨ (FREEDOM!) Jason dressed up as Chino-bot, a robot made out of duct tape and juice boxes (he´s of Chinese descent, hence the chino title) and he ended up winning best original costume. Amanda dressed up as the yerba mate brand ¨Amanda¨. And Matt went as Chuck Norris Walker Texas Ranger which he pulled off well and looked hilarious in his self-made cowboy hat and gun.
Some WMF friends came, the couple that I have mentioned before with 3 children, and it was good to be able to spend more time with them and celebrate with them. I can recall a moment holding their middle child as she fell asleep in my arms, even with the music blaring around us. It was a precious moment. We danced and partied til a little after 4 in the morning (the party started at 9pm)! I even tried some salsa dancing. It was a lot of fun, probably one of the best parties I have been to!
We were able to sleep in the next morning, Sunday- church was rescheduled for the evening- before we began our travels for our retreat to Mendoza.
Sunday evening we left on our 14 hour bus ride through the night to Mendoza, a city near Chile and the beautiful Andes Mountains. Since I was a little girl traveling on family vacations, I´ve loved road trips. So even though we would be traveling through the night having to sleep on the bus, I was excited about the travels. We played alot of cards on the bus.
We arrived to Mendoza the next morning and took another bus ride to our cabin, Cabañas Andinas in El Salto. We spent the day searching for food and relaxing at the cabin. After lunch Matt, Jer, and I did slack lining, which has become a new hobby of the team´s. (If you´ve never seen slacklining or are utterly clueless about what I´m talking about let me explain. Basically you hook a slack line, a long nylon rope, between two trees and try walking across the line. Not very easy but fun to do nonetheless.)
It had rained and hailed during lunch, brought on by the snow that capped the mountains in view from our cabin, but the evening was beautiful blue sky and sun which yielded good walking weather as Matt, Jer, and I headed to Potrerillos to find a supermarket to buy the bulk of our food for the week. Not knowing exactly how far it was, guessing 7 km one way, or how long it would take us Jer suggested we try to hitch a ride. So anytime a car came by from behind us we stuck our thumbs out in an attempt to flag down a compassionate driver. After a while of walking a truck stopped to let us jump in the bed of the truck and took us to our destination. After getting our groceries and walking a little ways up hill we were able to hitch another ride with a guy in his VW staion wagon. In the front seat was his sleeping daughter and in the back seat next to a car seat and our groceries the 3 of us stuffed in, me sitting on Matt´s lap. It was my first time hitch hiking and I did it twice in one day. It wasn´t the last time on the trip though.
We made dinner that night and had some spiritual formation time and worship before we enjoyed some time outside. I decided to teach them box frisbee which we played in the dark with a light up frisbee; Jer and I (winners) against Matt and Jason. And of course a day is not complete without a few games of cards.
We slept in the next morning and took our time making brunch and having some spiritual formation time discussing the topic of Obedience (we have been going through WMF ¨lifestyle celebrations¨ each week. Last week was intimacy then Obedience and next week we talk on Humilty) Later in the afternoon we set out on a hiking expedition. We had our sights set on hiking upa nearby peak that had been taunting us since our arrival. Jer was especially anticipating flying his kite where the wind seemed more promising. We were led by a resident to a path that led us down through a maze of thorn bushes and brush to a river no deeper or more forceful than a brook. We made our way along the bottom of the rocky hills, crossing the river many times, before ascending up, hill upon hill, peak after peak assessing our next steps along the way. With each higher ascent we grabbed a better view of the surrounding mountains and lake, which made the tiring effort it took to climb all the more worth it. With clouds threatening our way and evening approaching sooner than later we decided to go to the top of our initial goal- the peak we later found out ot be called El Cerro de las cabras (the peak of the goats). We quickened our steps as we headed up, challenging me physically in an ironically exciting way. With a great sense of accomplishment we arrived to the top Matt and Jer prepared the kite (to clarify, as Matt says ¨this aint your Franklin flying a key kind of kite¨). After a few attempts with less than promising wind Jer was able to get the kite up. Ver entertaining watching it whip around under Jer´s direction.
We made it down the peak in less than half the time it took us to get up. We retraced our steps down to a trail that would lead us slightly farther away from the cabins but to a road that would be more direct. We had a hearty dinner and some more worship time before heading to bed. Our arise time was set early for the next morning as we planned to head to a national park at Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas.
We caught a bus at 6:45 the next morning that took us down to Potrerillos where we would catch another bus to the park. The second bus ride was to be 2 hours long so I was looking forward to some ZZs to make up for the lack of sleep gotten the night before. BUt with the constant view of new mountains around us, more being revealed with the sun´s rise and grander ones coming into view the further west we went , it was hard to shut my eyes. But my tiredness overcame me and I did nap. We arrived to Aconcagua park only to find out that the park had recently closed due to a chemical spill. So though we weren´t able to enter the actual park we did find a path that took us around the edge of the park for at least a better view of the mountains surrounding us, specifically Aconcagua. The wind was fierce as it whipped around us, forcing a struggle at times as we walked against it. To try and recreate the grandness of the view with words would be short of impossible. Even to bring up the image in my mind falls short of actually standing and looking at the sight of the snow laden mountains. Though it was chilly and windy we did not rush our gazing time. But we did want to get back to the nearest town where we could catch the bus back. We decided to walk along some abanonded railroad tracks that ran along the road towards the town. We came to a point where we were forbidden to cross the road bridge and so instead of taking a course that would lead us down to the river bank only to have to cross the river and climb up the bank to the other side we decided to cross the railroad bridge set more than 30 feet above the water. There were spaces where we could walk along the bridge structure and other spaces where planks of wood were laid across caps in the bridge. We held onto the side railing all the while to steady ourselves across. But there came an a point where we were challenged to cross a plank of wood no wider than 6 inches or walk across the piping that edged along the bridge or shimming along the middle structure section of the bridge. We all chose different paths but made it safely across. It was one of those adrenaline rushing experiences that take your heart a few minutes to slow. So in short, it was awesome!
We made it to the town where they had a little fair set up selling various ¨tourist¨ items. We walked around there for a little while but spent the remainder of our time in a little bar waiting for the bus. We arrived back to Potrerillos by dinner time where we were expecting to go to a little restaurant, only to discover that it was closed (we have great luck with that). So we bought some groceries and hitch hiked our way back to the cabins. We left the next day for Mendoza to begin our travels back to the city. We had a few hours to relax in Mendoza before our bus left. We walked through the city a little stopping for lunch and spending the rest of our time in a park drinking Mate, getting dreads, and slacklining. Wait? What was that about getting dreads?! :) Yes, I ran into a guy who did dreads in the park and got 4 dreads (or what are called Rastas here) for 10 pesos each. I would have gotten more but did not have enough time or money at that point. But it is a porject I intend to finish. Matt also go to dreads.
We arrived back to the city yesterday and have been able to relax the rest of this weekend before we plunge into a new week. It was a beautifully refreshing week and allowed for some great oppourtunities for spiritual and team growth, renewal, and new traveling experiences.
Sometimes It´s hard to believe that I get to experience this beautiful country. Its hard to beleive it´s already October. The weeks go by so fast which causes a sense of desperation to cling to all my experiences and cherish every moment and pursue all opportunites. Even with the hardships of language struggle and the brokenness I experience I fall more and more in love with this place and the people I am in daily interaction with. As I sit and think about the people who I´am in relationship with here I am realizing how evidently present Christ is in these relationships; I am able to see His character more clearly. Not only His beauty in gentleness and love but also His brokennes and His heart´s longings.
What a beautiful opportunity this is. What a beautiful Creator He is!
Until next time- May you see His beauty in the faces and plaes around you. Much love!
In celebration for spring the church we attend and stay at here in the city had their annual primavera difras fiesta (costume party). Having seen pictures from the previous years we knew we were in for an exciting event with much dancing, food, and some intense costumes. I decided to do a repeat costume that I had done in college and went with a Braveheart/ William Wallace look. I was unable to find a working scotting skirt/ kilt so I made do with fellow STM Matt's green and black checkered shirt- it actually turned out to be a really good looking kilt! Also donning a plaid scarf as a sash, sword, random ¨war jewelry¨, and the best parts blue face paint and messy/ attempted dreadlocked hair. Most everyone enjoyed my get-up especially when I would run around yelling ¨¡¡Libertad!!¨ (FREEDOM!) Jason dressed up as Chino-bot, a robot made out of duct tape and juice boxes (he´s of Chinese descent, hence the chino title) and he ended up winning best original costume. Amanda dressed up as the yerba mate brand ¨Amanda¨. And Matt went as Chuck Norris Walker Texas Ranger which he pulled off well and looked hilarious in his self-made cowboy hat and gun.
Some WMF friends came, the couple that I have mentioned before with 3 children, and it was good to be able to spend more time with them and celebrate with them. I can recall a moment holding their middle child as she fell asleep in my arms, even with the music blaring around us. It was a precious moment. We danced and partied til a little after 4 in the morning (the party started at 9pm)! I even tried some salsa dancing. It was a lot of fun, probably one of the best parties I have been to!
We were able to sleep in the next morning, Sunday- church was rescheduled for the evening- before we began our travels for our retreat to Mendoza.
Sunday evening we left on our 14 hour bus ride through the night to Mendoza, a city near Chile and the beautiful Andes Mountains. Since I was a little girl traveling on family vacations, I´ve loved road trips. So even though we would be traveling through the night having to sleep on the bus, I was excited about the travels. We played alot of cards on the bus.
We arrived to Mendoza the next morning and took another bus ride to our cabin, Cabañas Andinas in El Salto. We spent the day searching for food and relaxing at the cabin. After lunch Matt, Jer, and I did slack lining, which has become a new hobby of the team´s. (If you´ve never seen slacklining or are utterly clueless about what I´m talking about let me explain. Basically you hook a slack line, a long nylon rope, between two trees and try walking across the line. Not very easy but fun to do nonetheless.)
It had rained and hailed during lunch, brought on by the snow that capped the mountains in view from our cabin, but the evening was beautiful blue sky and sun which yielded good walking weather as Matt, Jer, and I headed to Potrerillos to find a supermarket to buy the bulk of our food for the week. Not knowing exactly how far it was, guessing 7 km one way, or how long it would take us Jer suggested we try to hitch a ride. So anytime a car came by from behind us we stuck our thumbs out in an attempt to flag down a compassionate driver. After a while of walking a truck stopped to let us jump in the bed of the truck and took us to our destination. After getting our groceries and walking a little ways up hill we were able to hitch another ride with a guy in his VW staion wagon. In the front seat was his sleeping daughter and in the back seat next to a car seat and our groceries the 3 of us stuffed in, me sitting on Matt´s lap. It was my first time hitch hiking and I did it twice in one day. It wasn´t the last time on the trip though.
We made dinner that night and had some spiritual formation time and worship before we enjoyed some time outside. I decided to teach them box frisbee which we played in the dark with a light up frisbee; Jer and I (winners) against Matt and Jason. And of course a day is not complete without a few games of cards.
We slept in the next morning and took our time making brunch and having some spiritual formation time discussing the topic of Obedience (we have been going through WMF ¨lifestyle celebrations¨ each week. Last week was intimacy then Obedience and next week we talk on Humilty) Later in the afternoon we set out on a hiking expedition. We had our sights set on hiking upa nearby peak that had been taunting us since our arrival. Jer was especially anticipating flying his kite where the wind seemed more promising. We were led by a resident to a path that led us down through a maze of thorn bushes and brush to a river no deeper or more forceful than a brook. We made our way along the bottom of the rocky hills, crossing the river many times, before ascending up, hill upon hill, peak after peak assessing our next steps along the way. With each higher ascent we grabbed a better view of the surrounding mountains and lake, which made the tiring effort it took to climb all the more worth it. With clouds threatening our way and evening approaching sooner than later we decided to go to the top of our initial goal- the peak we later found out ot be called El Cerro de las cabras (the peak of the goats). We quickened our steps as we headed up, challenging me physically in an ironically exciting way. With a great sense of accomplishment we arrived to the top Matt and Jer prepared the kite (to clarify, as Matt says ¨this aint your Franklin flying a key kind of kite¨). After a few attempts with less than promising wind Jer was able to get the kite up. Ver entertaining watching it whip around under Jer´s direction.
We made it down the peak in less than half the time it took us to get up. We retraced our steps down to a trail that would lead us slightly farther away from the cabins but to a road that would be more direct. We had a hearty dinner and some more worship time before heading to bed. Our arise time was set early for the next morning as we planned to head to a national park at Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas.
We caught a bus at 6:45 the next morning that took us down to Potrerillos where we would catch another bus to the park. The second bus ride was to be 2 hours long so I was looking forward to some ZZs to make up for the lack of sleep gotten the night before. BUt with the constant view of new mountains around us, more being revealed with the sun´s rise and grander ones coming into view the further west we went , it was hard to shut my eyes. But my tiredness overcame me and I did nap. We arrived to Aconcagua park only to find out that the park had recently closed due to a chemical spill. So though we weren´t able to enter the actual park we did find a path that took us around the edge of the park for at least a better view of the mountains surrounding us, specifically Aconcagua. The wind was fierce as it whipped around us, forcing a struggle at times as we walked against it. To try and recreate the grandness of the view with words would be short of impossible. Even to bring up the image in my mind falls short of actually standing and looking at the sight of the snow laden mountains. Though it was chilly and windy we did not rush our gazing time. But we did want to get back to the nearest town where we could catch the bus back. We decided to walk along some abanonded railroad tracks that ran along the road towards the town. We came to a point where we were forbidden to cross the road bridge and so instead of taking a course that would lead us down to the river bank only to have to cross the river and climb up the bank to the other side we decided to cross the railroad bridge set more than 30 feet above the water. There were spaces where we could walk along the bridge structure and other spaces where planks of wood were laid across caps in the bridge. We held onto the side railing all the while to steady ourselves across. But there came an a point where we were challenged to cross a plank of wood no wider than 6 inches or walk across the piping that edged along the bridge or shimming along the middle structure section of the bridge. We all chose different paths but made it safely across. It was one of those adrenaline rushing experiences that take your heart a few minutes to slow. So in short, it was awesome!
We made it to the town where they had a little fair set up selling various ¨tourist¨ items. We walked around there for a little while but spent the remainder of our time in a little bar waiting for the bus. We arrived back to Potrerillos by dinner time where we were expecting to go to a little restaurant, only to discover that it was closed (we have great luck with that). So we bought some groceries and hitch hiked our way back to the cabins. We left the next day for Mendoza to begin our travels back to the city. We had a few hours to relax in Mendoza before our bus left. We walked through the city a little stopping for lunch and spending the rest of our time in a park drinking Mate, getting dreads, and slacklining. Wait? What was that about getting dreads?! :) Yes, I ran into a guy who did dreads in the park and got 4 dreads (or what are called Rastas here) for 10 pesos each. I would have gotten more but did not have enough time or money at that point. But it is a porject I intend to finish. Matt also go to dreads.
We arrived back to the city yesterday and have been able to relax the rest of this weekend before we plunge into a new week. It was a beautifully refreshing week and allowed for some great oppourtunities for spiritual and team growth, renewal, and new traveling experiences.
Sometimes It´s hard to believe that I get to experience this beautiful country. Its hard to beleive it´s already October. The weeks go by so fast which causes a sense of desperation to cling to all my experiences and cherish every moment and pursue all opportunites. Even with the hardships of language struggle and the brokenness I experience I fall more and more in love with this place and the people I am in daily interaction with. As I sit and think about the people who I´am in relationship with here I am realizing how evidently present Christ is in these relationships; I am able to see His character more clearly. Not only His beauty in gentleness and love but also His brokennes and His heart´s longings.
What a beautiful opportunity this is. What a beautiful Creator He is!
Until next time- May you see His beauty in the faces and plaes around you. Much love!
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