Eat your heart out, Rosetta Stone.

Written Monday, July 13, 7pm

Today was a day of many firsts. It was the first time I met Hermana Cathy, the woman with whom I've been communicating for five months about coming here; the woman who accepted my application to study at the Institute; the woman who told me what vaccinations I needed to have. It was the first time I met my 19 "classmates." All of our lessons are one-on-one, but it's fun to think of the group as a class. Today was my first class, and it was just a simple conversation. "Tell me about yourself," Sara said, and we went from there. It was the first time I wandered around the Maryknoll's goregous compound alone, taking in the flowers, the chapel, the peacefulness of it all. It was also the first time someone here asked me where I live, and the first time I didn't say "circa Chicago," but I said, "Vivo en la Av. Libertador." I live here, in Cochabamba. I live here. Aqui. That's pretty awesome. It was the first time I made Beatriz and Gonzalo laugh, and that was pretty awesome, too. It was a good laugh, solid. And the kind of thing that you joke about again later, and laugh again. (I know this because they lauged about it again later when Beatriz was washing the dishes from dinner). I swear I have personality behind this limited vocabulary, and it's coming out little by little.

All of my instructors are Bolivianos; I have four different teachers, one for an hour each from 8-noon, with a break for tea and bread. In two weeks, I'll have four different instructors, and then again four new ones for the last two weeks. There must be over 20 different language teachers here, and many have been teaching for years and years. I feel like my Spanish speaking skills are in very good hands.
Most of my classmates are college students. This is the youngest six-week module for Maryknoll, since universities are on summer break. During the rest of the year, many older students attend the Institute. I feel a little old, considering I work with students the age of these students, and have pretty good boundaries. It will be interesting to see how friendships form among everyone.

Today we had a couple of hours of orientation- don't go near the bus terminal; you need to wear shoes in the house, it's la cultura; it's ok to ask how to use the shower if you haven't had hot water; is anyone interested in serving on a social committee to plan weekend activties; should we be worried about the wild dogs; where can i practice yoga; how do I hail a taxi; there is more to Bolivia than drugs; etc, etc. It was informative, and the only thing at the Institute that will ever happen in English!

Almost no one working at the Institute speaks fluent English (except Hermana Cathy, the director, and Kitty, the language program coordinator). If I need to exchange money, pay for my books, need help with my computer- everything is done in Spanish. It's awesome. I love it. I can't escape it! As Padre Finch, the Director of the Institute, said today, we don't learn language in a vacuum. We learn it in the context of the culture, the history, by conversing with people. Forget Rosetta Stone, this is definitely how to learn a language.

Love and entire families with babies on motorcycles,
K