I just returned from my October visit to “the big city” (Santa Cruz). I had a wonderful time seeing friends from my B-45 group. I especially enjoyed spending time with my favorite Peace Corps couple Anna and Tom. We found new hostel, which changed our whole idea of the city. We spent most of our days hanging out by a beautiful little pool and garden… a nice retreat from the busy city streets filled with loud micros and people peddling everything from Euros, to phone cards, to shaved ice. We had a couple of lovely lunches and dinners at our favorite spots, La Casona (a German restaurant) and Tomate (a pizzeria). I left feeling healthy (thanks to a couple of medical visits) and up-to-date (thanks to internet at Alexander’s café). I also returned with a new haircut, groceries unavailable to me in San Jose, Newsweek, and a few newly downloaded Itunes.
The last couple days in the city I began to feel a little on edge, even though I was having a good time. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it until I pulled into the crazy train station in San Jose. This time, I began to smile when I saw the small wood fired grills with chicken and meat on sticks, and smiled even more so when I heard the whiney voices of women and children calling “limonaadaaaaaa” or “te manzanilaaaaaaaaa”. I felt a strange sense of relief and realized that I was home.
Other trips, when I pulled back into the station it was more of a feeling of being back in my site versus another place in Bolivia. This is the first time I felt like this is really where I live. I left the train station; breathing the air that now smells less of smoke and more of rain… it is the beginning of a new season. I am here and ready to work… lets see how things go.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Friends... new and old
Milking a cow
Tim, Josh, Anna, Abe, Chris
Representing Fordham and Jesuit traditions in Santiago, with friend from college Josh Lincoln
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Words from a guest journalist- Mama!
A couple weeks ago, I was lucky enough to have my mama come for a visit. I asked to write about her time here, because being here for almost 6 months, I have begun to get used to all things Bolivia (which in itself is a little scary!) Here is her Bolivian Journal:
Impressions From Five Days in Bolivia with Anna
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I would be spending 5 days in Bolivia with Anna. She was interviewing for the Peace Corp with no idea of whether she would be accepted and if so whether she would accept the challenge. Well, things change and I found myself on a plane from Santiago, Chile to La Paz, Bolivia. I was in Santiago for a week, where I am fortunate to have a project working with colleagues at the Institute of Nutrition and Food Technology at the University of Chile. Since I was already in the southern hemisphere, it only made sense to go the rest of the distance to be with my daughter.
Traveling to San Jose de Chiquitos is an adventure in itself. I flew from Santiago to La Paz, intending to connect immediately on to Bolivia’s largest airport, Viru Viru International in Santa Cruz. I found that in Bolivia, plans should be considered only as rough outlines of what will happen next. Instead, I spent 7 hours at 13,313 feet elevation in the La Paz airport. My first inclination was to take a taxi into the city and explore the colonial Plaza San Francisco and the Witch’s Market, until I realized that my lips were cyanotic (blue) at rest and even walking slowly up several stairs caused respiratory distress. Going from sea level to the highest airport in the world is a challenge. So instead of sight-seeing, I found a reclining chair in a VIP lounge, answered email, read and rested, and drank maté hoping that I would not succumb to “sorocho”, altitude sickness. After all, I was already wasting 7 hours of my precious time with Anna and I didn’t want to be sick for even one day. Luckily, I escaped with only a mild headache and some difficulty eating that evening.
Meanwhile, Anna was waiting for me in Santa Cruz, after taking the overnight train from San Jose de Chiquitos. My first impression of Santa Cruz from the plane was a dramatic view of brush fires and smoke filled air. It did not improve as I sped down Bolivia’s version of Eight-Mile Road in a broken down taxi. From this vantage point, the city looked disorganized and dangerous. Anna and I met at our $35 hotel and walked to a restaurant that had fabulous food (I couldn’t eat) and VERY slow service. Nonetheless, the atmosphere of the pleasant courtyard filled with people having fun, was a great backdrop for the mother-daughter reunion. In the morning, we went to Alexander’s, a Peace Corps volunteer (PCV) hangout with good food and free Wi-Fi where Anna is sure to meet up with a fellow PCV if she stays there long enough; all the more surprising because the Santa Cruz region is large and volunteers can live as far as 15 hours away. Santa Cruz, with 1.5 million inhabitants, is bustling and modern in many ways. I heard many times during my short stay that “You can find anything in Santa Cruz”. And, in fact, Anna and I were very successful shopping for food, cooking supplies and a mountain bike.
One hour before our 11 am train to San Jose de Chiquitos, we joined a diverse array of Bolivianos in the crowded and noisy train station. We were amused by a very determined cleaning lady who kept us moving while she mopped the floor repeatedly in the places where we chose to sit. Just as we thought it was time to board the train, Anna received a text message from another PCV who reported that she had heard our train was leaving several hours late. A teacher from the Marist Brother’s School in San Jose de Chiquitos had called to say he would be home later than planned. Communication – it’s changing the world! Anyway, this meant that Anna and I could return to our hotel and relax by the pool for several hours before taking another frenetic taxi ride back to the train station.
The train left at 3:30 and traveled through countryside that made me think of pictures I’ve seen of African savannahs. I would not have been surprised to see a giraffe striding across the plains. Our arrival by night at the train station at San Jose de Chiquitos was dramatic. We were met by the smell and site of the fires from many small grills, grilling meat for sale on the platform. The exotic look and dress of a diverse array of people was even more impressive in the dark. As we got of the train, Anna and I saw Melchor, the Marist Brother, who beckoned us to share his taxi. Through the broken windshield of the taxi, I took in the small adobe houses and the unpaved streets of my daughter’s new home. We were warmly greeted by Daisy and Negro, the proprietors of the home where Anna has 2 rooms which open on to a spacious garden courtyard across from their living room. I drifted off to sleep dreaming about Anna’s life in this exotic place so different from what we call “home”.
In the morning the family had gone to their cattle ranch for the day and Anna and I had the home to ourselves. We took our time over a breakfast of poached eggs and then headed out to hike up the canyon just outside of town. All along the way, people greeted Anna: “Hola Ani” “Y Josi?”, “Hi Anna” – “Where’s Josi?” I appreciated the familiarity of the greeting which positioned Anna as a colleague of Josi, another PCV.
At the outskirts of town we passed the well-maintained campus of an orphanage, which cares for children from infancy to adolescence. I have since learned that 9,200 Bolivian children live in homes for abandoned, orphaned and disabled children and an additional 3,700 live on the streets in the cities of La Paz, El Alto, Santa Cruz, Cochabamba, Tarija and Sucre. Of Bolivian’s 8.3 million inhabitants, half are children and 2.5 million children live in poverty. Bolivia is the poorest country in our hemisphere with the exception of Haiti.
The hike passes the original town-site of Santa Cruz which was established there in 1561 before moving to its current location in 1592. Our goal was to reach the top of a canyon with an amazing view of the valley. After turning back because of the heat the first morning, the next day I was rewarded by a view that brought back memories of Arizona vistas. I imagine things will look different after a few months of rain.
The town of San Jose de Chiquitos is reminiscent of the American west, several hundred years ago. As I walked the dusty streets of the colonial square I imagined myself in Taos, long before New Mexico joined the United States. True there are some cars and “motos” in San Jose, but most people are on foot or in donkey carts. There is a treasure of a church completed in 1698 by the Jesuits at the end of their short tenure in the region. It is built of wood and stone and is decorated with frescoes combining baroque and indigenous art. Gold adorns the altar and carved wood pillars support the massive structure. The reconstruction of the church continues but is quite far along. There is a tranquil garden which was full of spring blossoms. The remainder of the square includes several carry-out chicken restaurants and the town-hall, where Anna spends some of her work days.
I felt like a visiting dignitary during my stay. Doña Daisy took me on a tour of the hospital and city government including a meeting with the mayor and a discussion of Anna’s project. We were invited to Doña Daisy’s daughter’s home for coffee. I enjoyed meeting Patti and her French husband, Pierre and their 3-year-old son, Tomas, and learning about their life in small town Bolivia. Pierre has lived in Europe, Africa, the US (Bay City and Saginaw) and Patti has lived in Africa and the Dominican Republic. We discussed the challenge of starting a restaurant in a small town with the promise of tourism, working in international business and raising a son in a remote place in the developing world. One thing, that we all agreed on is that the world is small (“Le monde est petit.”) I look forward to meeting Pierre’s sister who lives in Fenton, Michigan.
I also was able to spend two pleasurable evenings at Doña Rosita’s pizzeria, a cozy place which comes with Rosita’s friendship. Doña Rosita reminded me of Strega Nona, a character from the Tomie dePaola story who has an enchanted pot that produces pasta. I think that Rosita must have been the inspiration for Strega Nona. Our evenings at the pizzeria were spent talking to Rosita, Josie (the other PCV), several teachers and a man who runs one of the local TV stations. I look forward to my next visit for the food and the friendship. I hope that Anna is able to spend many evenings with Doña Rosita.
Leaving Bolivia proved as difficult as getting there. Anna and I left San Jose de Chiquitos on the train at 1 am, to arrive in Santa Cruz in the morning. I was amused by the somewhat Fellini-esque scene at the station including Mennonites, men in overalls and women in gingham dresses; native Bolivian women carrying large babies in blankets on their backs; a colorful array of wedding cake skirts and shawls; and of course the ever-present adolescent Bolivian soldiers in camouflage attire with black boots and guns. The train left on schedule and lulled by the rhythmic noise and movement, we slept.
The morning of my departure, I arrived at the airport, checked in for my flight and bought a beautiful book about the Chiquitos. I was somewhat suspicious because there was no plane at the gate and even more so when I saw the crew leaving with smiles on their faces. I was surprised and secretly happy when my flight was cancelled and headed back into town to spend 4 more precious hours with Anna before her train left. We relaxed together by the pool of our hotel and began thinking about a future visit. I left Bolivia with a profound sense of admiration for my daughter who is brave and adventurous. I appreciate how difficult life is in Bolivia and how challenging her work will be. I also understand that she truly wants to help people and make a difference in the world. That is not always as easy as it sounds. It is impossible to express the magnitude of support Anna has from her family including Peter, Connor and I and her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.
Post script: Anna, Bolivia is fortunate to have you for 27 months. And, we look forward to what you will bring home to us from your experience.
Impressions From Five Days in Bolivia with Anna
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I would be spending 5 days in Bolivia with Anna. She was interviewing for the Peace Corp with no idea of whether she would be accepted and if so whether she would accept the challenge. Well, things change and I found myself on a plane from Santiago, Chile to La Paz, Bolivia. I was in Santiago for a week, where I am fortunate to have a project working with colleagues at the Institute of Nutrition and Food Technology at the University of Chile. Since I was already in the southern hemisphere, it only made sense to go the rest of the distance to be with my daughter.
Traveling to San Jose de Chiquitos is an adventure in itself. I flew from Santiago to La Paz, intending to connect immediately on to Bolivia’s largest airport, Viru Viru International in Santa Cruz. I found that in Bolivia, plans should be considered only as rough outlines of what will happen next. Instead, I spent 7 hours at 13,313 feet elevation in the La Paz airport. My first inclination was to take a taxi into the city and explore the colonial Plaza San Francisco and the Witch’s Market, until I realized that my lips were cyanotic (blue) at rest and even walking slowly up several stairs caused respiratory distress. Going from sea level to the highest airport in the world is a challenge. So instead of sight-seeing, I found a reclining chair in a VIP lounge, answered email, read and rested, and drank maté hoping that I would not succumb to “sorocho”, altitude sickness. After all, I was already wasting 7 hours of my precious time with Anna and I didn’t want to be sick for even one day. Luckily, I escaped with only a mild headache and some difficulty eating that evening.
Meanwhile, Anna was waiting for me in Santa Cruz, after taking the overnight train from San Jose de Chiquitos. My first impression of Santa Cruz from the plane was a dramatic view of brush fires and smoke filled air. It did not improve as I sped down Bolivia’s version of Eight-Mile Road in a broken down taxi. From this vantage point, the city looked disorganized and dangerous. Anna and I met at our $35 hotel and walked to a restaurant that had fabulous food (I couldn’t eat) and VERY slow service. Nonetheless, the atmosphere of the pleasant courtyard filled with people having fun, was a great backdrop for the mother-daughter reunion. In the morning, we went to Alexander’s, a Peace Corps volunteer (PCV) hangout with good food and free Wi-Fi where Anna is sure to meet up with a fellow PCV if she stays there long enough; all the more surprising because the Santa Cruz region is large and volunteers can live as far as 15 hours away. Santa Cruz, with 1.5 million inhabitants, is bustling and modern in many ways. I heard many times during my short stay that “You can find anything in Santa Cruz”. And, in fact, Anna and I were very successful shopping for food, cooking supplies and a mountain bike.
One hour before our 11 am train to San Jose de Chiquitos, we joined a diverse array of Bolivianos in the crowded and noisy train station. We were amused by a very determined cleaning lady who kept us moving while she mopped the floor repeatedly in the places where we chose to sit. Just as we thought it was time to board the train, Anna received a text message from another PCV who reported that she had heard our train was leaving several hours late. A teacher from the Marist Brother’s School in San Jose de Chiquitos had called to say he would be home later than planned. Communication – it’s changing the world! Anyway, this meant that Anna and I could return to our hotel and relax by the pool for several hours before taking another frenetic taxi ride back to the train station.
The train left at 3:30 and traveled through countryside that made me think of pictures I’ve seen of African savannahs. I would not have been surprised to see a giraffe striding across the plains. Our arrival by night at the train station at San Jose de Chiquitos was dramatic. We were met by the smell and site of the fires from many small grills, grilling meat for sale on the platform. The exotic look and dress of a diverse array of people was even more impressive in the dark. As we got of the train, Anna and I saw Melchor, the Marist Brother, who beckoned us to share his taxi. Through the broken windshield of the taxi, I took in the small adobe houses and the unpaved streets of my daughter’s new home. We were warmly greeted by Daisy and Negro, the proprietors of the home where Anna has 2 rooms which open on to a spacious garden courtyard across from their living room. I drifted off to sleep dreaming about Anna’s life in this exotic place so different from what we call “home”.
In the morning the family had gone to their cattle ranch for the day and Anna and I had the home to ourselves. We took our time over a breakfast of poached eggs and then headed out to hike up the canyon just outside of town. All along the way, people greeted Anna: “Hola Ani” “Y Josi?”, “Hi Anna” – “Where’s Josi?” I appreciated the familiarity of the greeting which positioned Anna as a colleague of Josi, another PCV.
At the outskirts of town we passed the well-maintained campus of an orphanage, which cares for children from infancy to adolescence. I have since learned that 9,200 Bolivian children live in homes for abandoned, orphaned and disabled children and an additional 3,700 live on the streets in the cities of La Paz, El Alto, Santa Cruz, Cochabamba, Tarija and Sucre. Of Bolivian’s 8.3 million inhabitants, half are children and 2.5 million children live in poverty. Bolivia is the poorest country in our hemisphere with the exception of Haiti.
The hike passes the original town-site of Santa Cruz which was established there in 1561 before moving to its current location in 1592. Our goal was to reach the top of a canyon with an amazing view of the valley. After turning back because of the heat the first morning, the next day I was rewarded by a view that brought back memories of Arizona vistas. I imagine things will look different after a few months of rain.
The town of San Jose de Chiquitos is reminiscent of the American west, several hundred years ago. As I walked the dusty streets of the colonial square I imagined myself in Taos, long before New Mexico joined the United States. True there are some cars and “motos” in San Jose, but most people are on foot or in donkey carts. There is a treasure of a church completed in 1698 by the Jesuits at the end of their short tenure in the region. It is built of wood and stone and is decorated with frescoes combining baroque and indigenous art. Gold adorns the altar and carved wood pillars support the massive structure. The reconstruction of the church continues but is quite far along. There is a tranquil garden which was full of spring blossoms. The remainder of the square includes several carry-out chicken restaurants and the town-hall, where Anna spends some of her work days.
I felt like a visiting dignitary during my stay. Doña Daisy took me on a tour of the hospital and city government including a meeting with the mayor and a discussion of Anna’s project. We were invited to Doña Daisy’s daughter’s home for coffee. I enjoyed meeting Patti and her French husband, Pierre and their 3-year-old son, Tomas, and learning about their life in small town Bolivia. Pierre has lived in Europe, Africa, the US (Bay City and Saginaw) and Patti has lived in Africa and the Dominican Republic. We discussed the challenge of starting a restaurant in a small town with the promise of tourism, working in international business and raising a son in a remote place in the developing world. One thing, that we all agreed on is that the world is small (“Le monde est petit.”) I look forward to meeting Pierre’s sister who lives in Fenton, Michigan.
I also was able to spend two pleasurable evenings at Doña Rosita’s pizzeria, a cozy place which comes with Rosita’s friendship. Doña Rosita reminded me of Strega Nona, a character from the Tomie dePaola story who has an enchanted pot that produces pasta. I think that Rosita must have been the inspiration for Strega Nona. Our evenings at the pizzeria were spent talking to Rosita, Josie (the other PCV), several teachers and a man who runs one of the local TV stations. I look forward to my next visit for the food and the friendship. I hope that Anna is able to spend many evenings with Doña Rosita.
Leaving Bolivia proved as difficult as getting there. Anna and I left San Jose de Chiquitos on the train at 1 am, to arrive in Santa Cruz in the morning. I was amused by the somewhat Fellini-esque scene at the station including Mennonites, men in overalls and women in gingham dresses; native Bolivian women carrying large babies in blankets on their backs; a colorful array of wedding cake skirts and shawls; and of course the ever-present adolescent Bolivian soldiers in camouflage attire with black boots and guns. The train left on schedule and lulled by the rhythmic noise and movement, we slept.
The morning of my departure, I arrived at the airport, checked in for my flight and bought a beautiful book about the Chiquitos. I was somewhat suspicious because there was no plane at the gate and even more so when I saw the crew leaving with smiles on their faces. I was surprised and secretly happy when my flight was cancelled and headed back into town to spend 4 more precious hours with Anna before her train left. We relaxed together by the pool of our hotel and began thinking about a future visit. I left Bolivia with a profound sense of admiration for my daughter who is brave and adventurous. I appreciate how difficult life is in Bolivia and how challenging her work will be. I also understand that she truly wants to help people and make a difference in the world. That is not always as easy as it sounds. It is impossible to express the magnitude of support Anna has from her family including Peter, Connor and I and her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.
Post script: Anna, Bolivia is fortunate to have you for 27 months. And, we look forward to what you will bring home to us from your experience.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
¨Nitty Gritty¨
plastic filled streets
notice the ¨trash man¨ (cart servicio de limpieza) and my local whole foods
gray water fills the streets
Last week, I had a wonderful visit with Mama, who was working in Chile, and decided to come by Bolivia for a quick trip on her way home to the states. It was so nice to see her, and I had such a great time showing her around San Jose and introducing her to the new people and places of my San Jose life. On her visit, she told me that I have been a little optimistic in my blog writing, and need to write an entry about the “nitty gritty”. I acknowledge the fact that I am an optimistic person, and maybe I have portrayed more of the good aspects of my new community than the bad, but I also do not want all of you to think that I am vacationing in Bolivia on a Peace Corps salary for the fun on it… because for the most part it is not that fun. It is incredibly hard to be away from all my friends, family and boyfriend, not even mentioning all of the modern conveniences and things that we take for granted in the first world. Some of the things that I miss the most are strange; those great bean veggie burgers, my fun gym Crunch and all of the crazy classes I used to take (hot yoga, chisel, rock bottom…), kashi cereal, tea at my favorite café (South 4th!), dancing and coloring with my little best friend Charlotte, eating brunch in Williamsburg with my girlfriends, spending time on the beach with Chris, being able to call people from my cell phone,
Here is some of the nitty gritty:
Basic Sanitation:
There is no such thing as citywide trash pick up. People either burn their trash, or throw it a place that seems inconspicuous to them. There are fields filled with thousands of plastic bags. They get attached to the plants, trees, rocks and fences, and stay there accumulating, no one tries to clean them up, more likely they throw more bags there when they see that they are already building up in one area.
Many people do not have any plumbing. Many have no form of bathroom whatsoever, not even latrine. They simply use a place in their backyard, usually with a makeshift plastic tent surrounding the area. Riding the train to San Jose, we pass swamps of black water, sewage in front of people’s homes, where their children play. In San Jose, the wastewater from the kitchens, bathrooms and wash areas is fed into ugly canals on the sides of the streets. Sewage is not supposed to go into these areas, but I have yet to find someone to tell me where it does go.
San Jose has a problem with lack of water. It seems that when you need it the most, (right after a long, sweaty run) you will find that nothing comes out of the faucet. The past couple weeks it has been better than usual, there has been constant water until 10 at night, when it has been shutting off.
Health:
People’s staple food is white bread made with lard. This is the typical breakfast and dinner in Bolivia, along with a large filling lunch that usually consists of rice, potatoes, and maybe a little meat or chicken. As a result, the people are very malnourished. Many suffer and/or die from gastro-intestinal illnesses, and diarrhea caused by poor hygiene and bad water. I have jumped into this campaign for plastics recycling because people now are burning all of their plastic products. Most do not realize that this is toxic, and very dangerous to their health; I’m hoping to make a small difference with this fact. There is a mix of traditional and modern medicine. The community does not have very good opinions of the couple of doctors that are stationed here. That, in combination with the lack of knowledge about general health and nutrition makes me nervous about the community’s health practices. People think that you can get sick from the strangest things, such as fans, cold drinks and showering too soon/too long after exercising. I have had people ask me if water can make you gain weight, and if fruits and vegetables are good or bad for them.
All in all, it’s a different world out here, and it’s hard to even know where to begin to try and explain. I am doing my best to learn all I can from the good and bad from this experience.
notice the ¨trash man¨ (cart servicio de limpieza) and my local whole foods
gray water fills the streets
Last week, I had a wonderful visit with Mama, who was working in Chile, and decided to come by Bolivia for a quick trip on her way home to the states. It was so nice to see her, and I had such a great time showing her around San Jose and introducing her to the new people and places of my San Jose life. On her visit, she told me that I have been a little optimistic in my blog writing, and need to write an entry about the “nitty gritty”. I acknowledge the fact that I am an optimistic person, and maybe I have portrayed more of the good aspects of my new community than the bad, but I also do not want all of you to think that I am vacationing in Bolivia on a Peace Corps salary for the fun on it… because for the most part it is not that fun. It is incredibly hard to be away from all my friends, family and boyfriend, not even mentioning all of the modern conveniences and things that we take for granted in the first world. Some of the things that I miss the most are strange; those great bean veggie burgers, my fun gym Crunch and all of the crazy classes I used to take (hot yoga, chisel, rock bottom…), kashi cereal, tea at my favorite café (South 4th!), dancing and coloring with my little best friend Charlotte, eating brunch in Williamsburg with my girlfriends, spending time on the beach with Chris, being able to call people from my cell phone,
Here is some of the nitty gritty:
Basic Sanitation:
There is no such thing as citywide trash pick up. People either burn their trash, or throw it a place that seems inconspicuous to them. There are fields filled with thousands of plastic bags. They get attached to the plants, trees, rocks and fences, and stay there accumulating, no one tries to clean them up, more likely they throw more bags there when they see that they are already building up in one area.
Many people do not have any plumbing. Many have no form of bathroom whatsoever, not even latrine. They simply use a place in their backyard, usually with a makeshift plastic tent surrounding the area. Riding the train to San Jose, we pass swamps of black water, sewage in front of people’s homes, where their children play. In San Jose, the wastewater from the kitchens, bathrooms and wash areas is fed into ugly canals on the sides of the streets. Sewage is not supposed to go into these areas, but I have yet to find someone to tell me where it does go.
San Jose has a problem with lack of water. It seems that when you need it the most, (right after a long, sweaty run) you will find that nothing comes out of the faucet. The past couple weeks it has been better than usual, there has been constant water until 10 at night, when it has been shutting off.
Health:
People’s staple food is white bread made with lard. This is the typical breakfast and dinner in Bolivia, along with a large filling lunch that usually consists of rice, potatoes, and maybe a little meat or chicken. As a result, the people are very malnourished. Many suffer and/or die from gastro-intestinal illnesses, and diarrhea caused by poor hygiene and bad water. I have jumped into this campaign for plastics recycling because people now are burning all of their plastic products. Most do not realize that this is toxic, and very dangerous to their health; I’m hoping to make a small difference with this fact. There is a mix of traditional and modern medicine. The community does not have very good opinions of the couple of doctors that are stationed here. That, in combination with the lack of knowledge about general health and nutrition makes me nervous about the community’s health practices. People think that you can get sick from the strangest things, such as fans, cold drinks and showering too soon/too long after exercising. I have had people ask me if water can make you gain weight, and if fruits and vegetables are good or bad for them.
All in all, it’s a different world out here, and it’s hard to even know where to begin to try and explain. I am doing my best to learn all I can from the good and bad from this experience.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
