Different Places

More from the Project Helping Hands Trip 2011:

In a lot of ways, I have quit thinking of how different my Bolivian experiences are from my American experiences. But I will try to recall a few of these differences--

I ran around with the kids in one village to collect giant ants to eat. You don't eat the whole ant, because they have pinchers that hurt, so it's better to tear off only the abdomen to pop in your mouth. I don't know how to describe the taste really. Tastes like an ant, I guess. Kinda gooey?

On our bus ride I would lean out the window of the bus on the turns just in case it tipped over--unless it was tipping my way. But for the bad turns we usually just ended up unloading everyone anyway, just to be safe. In the end the bus never tipped over. So, it all worked out perfectly.

My showers usually consisted of jumping off a cliff into a waterfall or else just finding a nice swimming hole if the cliffs weren't big enough. That's different from my American life. I don't really shower in America.

I was apathetic about where I slept. So sometimes I would throw my sleeping bag and sleep wherever it landed. Worked well. In the States I usually sleep in a bed.

I gave coca another chance. I was hoping it would take away the pain in my ankle which I sprained the morning we began our 4-day trek. The saliva just made me drink less water, which was helpful in that I didn't have to stop hiking as much to drink water. It makes my mouth numb, but I don't feel less tired or less pain. I'm beginning to think coca simply operates on the placebo effect.