In Quechua, the language of the Incas, Samaipata means 'rest in the highlands'. The town lies two and half hours south west of Santa Cruz where three seperate eco-systems join together; the Amazonian Plains, the Gran Chaco, and the Andes mountains. For this reason the area has been a geographic and geopolitical melting pot for inter-related cultures for centuries.  First the Mojocoyas and Chane peoples from Gran Grigota used the area has a ritual and religious centre from 800 to 1,300 aD.   Later at the end of the 1300s it was used as a pass-by lodge for Guarani warriors.  Afterward it was a meeting point, trading centre, ceremonial site, and administrative centre for the Incas during the 1400s.  Finally it was a fortress and a trading and storage town during the Hispanic colony era linking Asuncion, Paraguay and Lima, Peru.

Rest is what I found both spiritually and physically when my friend Jamel and I spent 4 days following Christmas h... more

come see a free pearl jam concert in Oruro boliva, U2 is special guest

***Aside note. About two weeks prior to December 5th, there were riots and marches in Sucre. All the prisoners broke out of the jail and the police fled the city.


December 5, 2007

The murky night sky clouds the tension hovering above the city.  We hold our breath in angst imagining the severity the storm may bring. Tomorrow they come. Hundreds maybe thousands will flood the streets to support the one who promised social change.  Yet not all are Evo’s followers and wreck less collision is inevitable when the division between parties runs this deep.  So profound is the hatred manifesting within that one spark could ignite the beginning of a bloody revolution.  We only hope that the rain from the storm calms any wildfires and that the embers illuminate the possibility of peace and resolution.

December 9, 2007

The Asemblea fled to Oruro and in the early hours of this Sunday morning members of MAS, Evo Morales’... more

sharing a laugh

November 15, 2007
Roots from the sky rain down upon the cloud covered land creating a blue so remote the ground shivers to stay awake.    A drunken rooster call echoes in my head and beckons me to climb out of my safety net, force the smile I know they will see through, and try again. The noon sun now paralyzes my every movement and in glistening heat waves I wash upon the steps of a once rocky desert shoreline. I could lay and bake from the inside out but my mind lifts me up so that my feet no longer touch the ground.  I float from corner to corner unable to break the surface of an ocean teaming with life from within. These frustrations manifest upon my skin. They tumble with the crashing surf and explode into a million droplets of hope soaking the barren land and quenching my arid soul.  I allow the tide to carry me out, the moons’ pull to bring me in.  The stars guide me to my resting place and gently lay me down.  As t... more

hooray

enjoy!

Here are a few pics from around town, at the house, and some new art. hope you enjoy!!!
PS. Chavo, the new puppy is soooo rambuncious, but a adorable. ive never had a puppy before, its a lot of work!

October 17, 2007
At times I find myself taking what isn’t mine.  Like when I take the last piece of toilet paper that doesn’t belong to me or two eggs from a full basket. Or when I take sides in a fight I wasn’t involved in; like yesterday when Esmeralda up in left with the storm that finally washed away the dry sins lying at our feet.  I awoke that morning to Dona Maria’s high pitched squeal amongst her ramble of Quechua insults and a few hours later returned home to find that Cho was gone.  “Esmeralda se ha ido a su casa como siempre,” me ha dicho la Dona.  “Como siempre,” she says. Como siempre your demoniacal words have left her fleeing for her sanity. It reminds me of a lovers quarrel.  Yet I know there is no love giving action going to or from these sun wrinkled wind battered Bolivian women. Now the rain comes; slowly at first, then growing into a steady drumming upon the red tin roof, filling the freshly cut wounds and glidin... more

October 9, 2007
She has worked and lived in dona marias house since she was 15 years old; fixing meals, washing clothes, helping raise the dona’s children.  She left her own home in the campo so long ago where the wind blows hard and dust gets stuck in everything. She speaks three languages, the most beautiful being Quechua her native tongue brought down to her from generations of people who live to worship the land and sky.  Partially deaf, Esmeralda struggles to hear every last syllable and follows your lips as they tell her your story. Spanish she learned taking commands and running errands for the 5 children she helped raise and whom she speaks of as if they were her own.   She calls out to the animals and they sing to her in return; a melody that has given her the one single joy in this fortress she has been unable to escape.  Her sister has come to get her saying lets go back to the earth where we are free from any task but our own.&nbs... more