My friends are in my pockets!

Reflections on the first moments

afternoon clouds over La Paz

I’m in La Paz! Time has felt shifted and warped in these first few days- I started off with a 72 hour travel adventure from Denver, CO to Bolivia. My plane from Florida to Bogotá, Colombia was delayed 5 hours, which led me to spending 8 hours in Orlando (eek!) and the following day in an airport hotel outside of Bogotá until a 9 pm flight to La Paz and a 3 am arrival at the hostel. :))

However! I feel excited to be here, and have been exploring the city in the spans of time between rest– turns out trans-continental travel is tiring! It has already been a stretching and learning experience, within these few days I’ve felt a rollercoaster of emotions. Visiting the Folklore and Ethnography Museum yesterday sparked a range of curiosity– both amazed by the art and music of Bolivia’s history and also suspicious of the means of gathering so many artifacts and putting them behind glass, dislocated from their home soils and communities. Walking the streets themselves has been an experience of time distortion as I accidentally stumble across streets and cafés I once visited in high school on my semester abroad. It has been an adjustment to be largely alone throughout my days, meals, and explorations. I’m grateful for the space it has been providing me to settle into this experience, and for the time it gives to return to writing and reading more than I have in the last few years.

traditional dress and instruments in the Folklore and Ethnography museum

And yet I’ve rarely felt truly alone- I feel like I have my friends and family tucked into my pockets well within reach. A dear friend hand embroidered a hoodie for me, and it has quickly become one of my favorite items I have with me. I can feel the time and care put into it each time I pull it over my head, and so many personal touches help me feel like the artist and other friends have their arms over my shoulders. Other reminders: in the days before I left, my dad and I replaced gaskets on my whitewater dry top, and both of our fingerprints are overlapping faintly in the residual smears of the glue. While I’ve yet to use it, I pack and unpack and see proof of our hands working together on it. Old and new friends both gifted me special pairs of earrings, and I am reading a book annotated by one of them as well. These physical reminders– love stitched into a sweater, my father’s fingerprints, the weight of an earring, and a characteristic handwriting– have all carried me along through the ebbs and flows of these first few days. I wore the hoodie through four airports and let it absorb tears from stress and exhaustion, this borrowed book has been a companion through solo meals and plane delays, and the notes, texts, and audio recordings from friends and family have been snippets of encouragement and love that have helped me feel more connected to them and more driven to continue to push myself to be uncomfortable in new spaces.

back to the hostel!

I’ll soon travel north-east from La Paz and be meeting new friends and approaching new work. I’m feeling all sorts of nervousness, excitement, inspiration, and doubt, and know that is unlikely to change within the next 10 months. What a gift!