Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, and Finally Brazil!

The busride to Bolivia was long; eighteen hours. Mom was feeling pretty sick, and had a fever that she'd had for a while. We weren't sure if we should just stop, and get off the bus, or if we should keep going, then go to a doctor once e got to La Paz. We stood, and prayed for mom, and what we should do. It was decided we would go ahead, and if she got sicker, we would just stop where we were. Thankfully though, she got some better, and was able to travel. Like the majority of buses down here, there were the movies, which even though they were like stupid, unrealistic science-fiction ones that aren't even worth watching, waste your time. The landscape changed quite a bit from leaving Lima to arriving at the boarder in Puno, next to lake Titiicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world I think it is). The first being right next to the ocean, and all you can see is sand dunes, and the sea stretching out to the west. We were able to see the sun setting over the water, and although the dry, arid sand dunes were not the most attractive, looking out over the horizon, the sun slowly melting into water was beautiful. From there we climbed to where the landscape, although not nearly lush, was more green. There were little scrub bushes with llamas, donkeys and sheep nibbling on them, and instead of the palfrawn walled shacks by the beach, brown, adobe huts with grass roofs were scattered here and there. Instead of the polluted air of Lima, there was a fresh smell, and it was harder to breathe because of the altitude.

The whole way to the boarder, we had all been praying Cam would get through with no problems, being underage, with no written permission to be traveling alone. When we arrived there, we went straight to immigration, the whole time seeing the answer to our prayer being unfolded before our eyes. We had absolutely no problems, and were through the crossing half hour before it closed (unlike the last time my family had gone through, with all the Peruvian Y.P. , arriving just as it was closing. There was major complications there. Out of the twenty of them, at least a few of them were underage, and because they had left on a holiday, no notaries were open, and they didn't have the necessary notarized letters. The boarder people didn't want to stamp them out. They ended up having a really hard time, but the Lord worked it all out in the end)! From Puno, we took a little minibus-like van the two hours to La Paz, the highest capital city in the world. We were all exited to be able to actually lay down for the night, and a little bit hyper. We sang songs, talked, and watched as the sky darkened, and the lights around the lake began to turn on reflecting on the water.

Arriving in La Paz we weren't quite sure where the meeting room was from where we arrived, so Dad called one of the brothers, while we waited out on the freezing cold street with all our luggage. After quite a while, a little van, and a pickup truck pulled up to where we were, loading our luggage in one, and us in the other. It was past ten when we stopped in front of a large, metal door. Opening a little door cut out of the big one, we stepped into the meeting room, where they were having the conference. There were rows of white plastic chairs, and hard, wooden benches. Unloading our luggage in a back room, we realized this is where all of us were to stay. There were large square tick mats made of straw and flour sacks iin a pile off to the side. We layed them all out in a row on the cold, hard cement floor, pulled out our sleeping bags, spreading them out, then putting the thick, musty smelling blankets over top of us. Ben decided to hang up his hammock between two pillars in the meeting room instead of sleeping in the other room with the rest of us. The majority of us slept extremely well. After being on a bus two days, and a night, it's amazing how exhausted you get!

The next morning at six-thirty a brother came in and greeted us cheerfully. We poked our heads out of our cocoons and reached to shake his hand. He reminded us that praver meeting started in a half hour, so we probably should be getting up soon. Most of us rolled right back over until ten minutes before seven. We pulled on our clothes, and walked out to the beginning of a long day. After prayer meeting we had breakfast, a thick corn-meal drink, and a piece of bread. It was decided to read in II Timothy 2 for the Reading Meetings. It is so interesting, 'cause this was the third time we've read that chapter this year, whether it be at a conference, or an assembly meeting. The meeting after lunch, and before dinner was one long one of three hours. It reminded me of being in Bucaramunga, Colombia, and the first two-hour meeting went over, and they ended up just skipping the break, and going straight into the next two-hour meeting.

This conference was really encouraging; especially the love of the people. In the meetings, as well as after so many were SO gracious, and giving all they had to make us comfortable and happy. There was family especially that really encouraged me. One of the main brothers in the assembly had quiite a large family, of which many had gone far from the Lord. But, in the last few years the Lord has really been working, slowly bringing them back, with their families. One of the sons were even baptized there after the conference, along with a young guy and girl. There were of their daughters (who are cousins), especially who were just on fire for the Lord, and their love for Him really showed. We just really need to remember to pray for the rest of their families too. I believe neither of the girls' moms are saved, but they are definitely interested. It was encouraging to hear too, that a guy and a girl were saved one night after a gospel meeting. I don't know whether the brother who goes out and invites people to come in influenced them to enter and listen, or whether they heard the message from the loudspeaker placed right outside of the meeting room, allowing all the neighbors and passer-byers to hear. The young people were encouraging too, ready to sing, or talk about the Lord.

From La Paz, we took the eight hour bus to Cochabamba where we planned on staying for a while. The main purpose of the trip was for mom to be able to rest, and have tests done for her mysterious sickness. Although we had the idea of staying for a while, that didn't end up happening. We arrived Monday night, spent Tuesday resting up, doing wash, catching up on emails, and Ben, Nate, Anna and I went to the school we'd gone to seven years ago, along with Dad and Lydia. Ben found one guy from his class, while one girl from mine was only there picking something up (they all graduated two years ago, so it was pretty much coincidence). We were only there for a while, before going back. The next morning, Dave, Lydia, Cam, Ben and I were on a bus to Oruro, from where we were to catch a train to Villazon, at which point we'd be staying with brethren for the conference there.

It was the first time we were actually traveling by ourselves, to a place where there were no other Americans, and really nobody we really knew, except for the Villarubias, who live in Cochabamba. The bus ride went smoothly, and upon getting to Oruro, we went out to eat with a lady who'd sat next to Dave on the bus, then were almost late for the train. So much for thinking we'd be doing things less at the last moment.

The eighteen hour train-ride was pretty cool. Although it was a little hard to sleep at night, the complimentary breakfast of cafe con leche, crackers, bread, butter, jam, and scrambled eggs made up for it. We snacked on vanilla and chocolate wafers, read our Bibles, talked, wrote in our journals, slept, or just sat there, staring out the window, or sleeping.

Upon arriving in Villazon, it seemed as though brethren began to pop up everywhere. We had bought tickets so late that we were unable to go in the second or third class cars with those that we knew (or we had at least maybe seen before some place, or were known by people we knew from meeting). So when we arrived, and met up with everyone who had been riding the same train, in the other cars, there was quite a group of us. We lugged our stuff down to the meeting room.

The town of Villazon was small, poor, sunny, extremely dry, and either very warm, or very cold. The majority of the houses were made of the mud adobe, some having white plaster covering the walls. Most of the women still wore the traditional clothing; knee-length pleated skirts, three-quarter length sleeved square necked lacy blouses, with a little half-peanut looking hat perched on top of their head, their two long black braids hanging down their backs, tied together with yarn braided into hair. When it was cold they would wear thick stockings, or leg-warmers, along with a blanket tied like a shawl around their shoulders.

We made the rounds greeting every person who was a brother or sister in sight. You had to be especially attentive, because some would only shake your hand, while others would shake your hand, give you a kiss on your cheek while putting their hand on your shoulder, then shake your hand again, while still others just give you a kiss, while patting your upper arm.

After greeting everyone standing anywhere around, the whole group of us who'd arrived kinda just stood there in the entrance of the meeting room not knowing quite what to do next. But, it was all sort of disorganizedly arranged for us to all to stay at a house of a family. There were two rooms, out behind the main house. The whole building was put together with mud adobe, having a tin roof, being supported with thick branches. After walking into the dim, cool room from the bright sunlight, our eyes made little sun-spots around on the cracking, brown walls, randomly having little plug-ins waist-high, and on the hard, cement floor, as well as the corrugated metal roof. Once our eyes adjusted, the straw-tick mats lining both sides of the room, having a isle way in between them, and two rickety, metal beds.

Others coming for the conference were sitting on their mats chatting, meeting again, some after years of being away from eachother. We each threw our bags down on a mat, along with the twenty other people staying in there. Ben, Dave, Cam, me, and Lydia all in a row; our bags separating us from the guys. Men, women, old and young were all together. Mr. and Mrs. Villarubia got one of the beds, while two single ladies from La Paz shared the other. It was kinda comical how we were all kinda just thrown together. We didn't know how the nights were going to be! You do get to know things about people when you're all in the same thing; namely what people are REALLY thinking about when they sleep-talk, or how snores can range from sounding like a train, to a starting car, to someone dragging something over a pile of pebbles. So, while some felt like staying up till like one in the morning, others wanted to get up at four am to take a shower in the bathroom that all twenty of us were sharing, as well as the other room, who probably had a similar amount of people “alojado” there.

The bathroom was another issue. Both the toilet, and the shower (as well as the customary “bude” however it's spelled in French...) were in the same room, so if anyone was taking a shower the line outside the door grew longer and longer waiting for their turn. There was no separation between the main bathroom and the shower, so the faucet, where the water came out to bathe, poured right out onto the floor, getting everything wet, and sometimes even leaking under the door onto the ground outside, making the powdery dust into a mushy mud that was tracked into our room, as well as back into the bathroom. So now the floor is extremely wet, AND muddy. So, naturally not wanting to change in front of everyone where we're sleeping, we have to change in the bathroom. Having nowhere to put the clothes you're not wearing, you have to hold them in one hand, while slipping each article of clothing on carefully with the other hand. It was a challenge to keep any of them from falling. To avoid that risk, we discovered an alternative, and aspired to become almost* professional sleeping-bag changers. It probably looked like quite a struggle watching someone squirming around in the long, black mummy bags, but instead of transforming from a caterpillar to butterfly, the pajamas become a conference outfit, and vuala, we were ready. Another day of at least eight hours of meetings, with three breaks had just begun!

Prayer meeting began at six. We were at least a little late for every one :S. Breakfast, at seven, was a five minute walk from the “local” where the conference was being hosted. It was in a small, dusty, court-yard covered by a blue tarp. Against one wall, made with mud and straw bricks were two large cauldrons, made of metal 50-gallon drums cut in half boiling over red, hot coals. Standing in line, those at the conference waited to be handed their breakfast, consisting of a large mug of tea (or coffee with milk), accompanied by a piece of bread and a bowl of soup. Some brought their own eating utensils, while others borrowed from the local assembly. There were a certain amount of seats, so especially by the third day the majority had to stand eating. It was a good feeling, drinking warm, steaming tea, those brisk, cool, mornings, standing chatting with the others around us.

The first reading meeting (where it was decided we would study Romans 8) started an hour later, the three hours until lunch.

Listening, and trying to concentrate on the doctrine being preached, all in Spanish was mentally exhausting. Even more so for Dave, Cam, and Lydia, who had to pay special attention to every word, then connect the words with the whole thought.

During the breaks we would either walk around, talk, take a nap, or stand in a circle, hitting the volleyball around. Once we walked over the boarder to Argentina, where we white Americans got yelled at for not having any documents, while the Bolivian with us just slipped through without being noticed. Also where Dave and Cam got lost in their taxi the day after arriving in the town, not having any idea how to get anywhere, all the buildings looking the same, and the town being flat. But with the good direction of Cam, they only got to meeting twenty minutes late... while we sat on the edges of our chairs wondering what had happened to them, not knowing what we should do.

By the end of the day, we were all absolutely EXHAUSTED. Gospel went from eight to nine, then after that, the YP would want to do things. The first night we helped tie the tops little long, skinny bags of jellow for the next days snack between meetings. While we tied, we learned Quechua songs, while teaching them what we could in English.

Another night we had a sing in the meeting room, which lasted till like eleven. Then, the last night a bunch went to play “wally”, a type of volleyball in an enclosed room, where you can play off the walls. It was way fun, but staying there till 12 was a little late after having to wake up at 5:30, and having meetings all day.

From Villason, we took a bus with some brothers to Tarija. An assembly with quite a few young people.

We spent an amazingly fun week there, before meeting up with my family in the bus station, less than fifteen minutes before the next bus left to take us to Palpala.

We got to Palpala late Thursday night, or more like early Friday morning, slept a couple hours then went to conference. The house where we were in had two rooms, one for my parents, and the other for us six young people, then other people came some of the nights. We separated the guys on one side of the room, and us girls on the other.

Conference was good. Now, being a really long time since we were there, I don't remember too much....

From that conference, we traveled to Salta where there was going to be a conference the following weekend. Before the conference though, our family, Cam, Lydia and Dave went to a pretty nice little hostel where we spent our last day together. We went out for pizza, then had a wonderful nights sleep. The next day some rode horses, while others swam in a forbidden aqueduct. It all turned out very well. From there we went to the city of Salta, where we spent one more night before Lydia, Cam and Dave left with Bob and Lemmoine for Santiago. From there there were going to bus to Lima, and then Ecuador, where they would separate. Lydia and Dave back to the US, and Cam to Ecuador.

We stayed in Salta, in the sister Ester's house. Eliana, who is twenty-one took us all over Salta, and was really encouraging. Her brother Josue, whose 18 hung out with the boys. The youngest, Estban, was a firecracker. Being like fourteen years younger than Josue, he was practically like an only child. He was wild, but absolutely hilarious.

From Salta, we traveled to Santiago, where we stayed in an apartment that was to be for the mother-in-law of one of the sisters there, but who was to arrive later on. There we had a surprise waiting for us. Dave, Lydia and Cam were still there! They had changed plans and stayed a couple more days before flying to Peru, and Ecuador, which was a lot less complicated. So we got an added blessing, having a couple more days with them. Staying in Santiago was perfect. We were able to be a family for a while, and be able to recoup from running all over the place so fast. Paulina, one of the ladies from the assembly took us all around. She was awesome. Always positive, helping out wherever she could.

Two of the weekends we were there we helped her with the Sunday School work she's doing there in the neighborhood. She is the main one organizing the kids, singing the songs, and getting everything going. It was really fun.

From Chile, we traveled back to Argentina, but instead of going back to Salta, we visited La Plata, where there's an assembly of 300. Walking into meeting you feel like you're in a conference!

But being there we were really encouraged. Every day we usually had at least two invites to go to someone else's house. Tons of more people asked to have us over, but there just wasn't time. And the people there eat at crazy times! We started dinner at 12 a couple of times! Meaning we got home at like 1:30!

We had a day out at a property of the brother Niconor's (in whose house we stayed). A bunch of the people in the assembly brought food, and we had a pot-luck with everyone. Afterward we had a Bible study, then played volleyball, soccer, and a kid brought a bat, so I taught a group of people how to play baseball. I never realized how many rules there are in the game. It was kind of ironic having me teach people to play baseball. I honestly don't know half of what baseball consists of. But they had fun, and that's what counts! I felt bad though, 'cause one time I went to hit the ball, and in my followthrough, I followed through right smack on the side of a kids' head!

But, there was quite a large group of young people there, many of which loved to sing, and pass out tracts.

One girl in particular impressed me. Seven years ago when we were in Bolivia, we heard about a truck full of fruit and vegetables, as well as those going to sell it had rolled, hurting many, and killing a few. Her mom was one of those who died. Eva had to grow up, raising her younger siblings, and is now fifteen. She loves to sing, and go out with the young people, and pass out tracts. One day she invited us to wake up early and go pass out calendars for the new year at the bus and train station.

Although the young people want to please the Lord, there is a lot of discouragment. From both the world, and even in the assembly itself. Please pray for the assembly of La Plata. Especially that the older brothers would know the right way to exhort, but as well encourage the young people. Many of the younger generation have been discouraged and no longer come to the meetings.

I cried on the bus for a half hour leaving that assembly. Both because I know I'm going to miss them so much, and I never know when (or even if) I'll see them again, and too, praying that they would be encouraged to continue in their desire to follow the Lord, and stay strong during the trials. We left there with four more young people. Eliana and Josue who we stayed with in Salta, as well as Dina from there, and Rusmery from La Plata.

The girls are especially encouraging. Whatever opportunity they have to sing, they take it, whether it be walking down the road, sitting on a bus on our way somewhere, or in the house doing clean up. They are also always ready to go pass out tracts and calendars. Such examples!

So, one day in La Plata, we took a day trip to Uruguay, then on Thursday we took an all night bus to Misiones, where we dropped off our luggage at the hotel, then went to Paraguay, passed out tracts all afternoon, before coming back, and spending some time together in the pool. It was so warm, even at eleven at night! The next day we went to the Falls of Iguasu. The widest falls in the world. They were absolutely gorgeous. I don't know if I've ever seen anything so beautiful! We spent the day walking around, looking at the falls, and roasting in the sun.

That evening, our bus left for Brazil. Like always we arrived in the nick of time to hop on the bus. After riding all night once again on the bus, we arrived in the bus terminal, changed, and walked into the meeting room in time for Breaking of Bread. We felt pretty messy to be coming to meeting right after traveling all night on a bus, but it was pretty much the only option we had.

So now we're in Florionopolis, Brazil! Mom and Dad are with Nate and Anna in Danielle's house (Dad's cousin's daughter). Here at the house we all speak a mix of English, Spanish and Portuguese. When we don’t understand what is being said when they say it in Portuguese, Mateus translates to English, then we translate that to Spanish. It’s kinda comical :D

An update on Mom

Some of you probably know that my mom hasn´t been feeling well for the past three months or so, and after experiencing fever, extreme fatigue and joint pain with swelling, Dad took her to the doctor in Colombia where the orthopedic surgeon operated on her right wrist for carpal tunnel syndrome. He then advised her to see a rheumatologist when she arrived in a major city to have further tests done. When we arrived at the conference in La Paz, Bolivia, Dad took her to another doctor who then called in a specialist to the room. After looking at her blood tests and observing her symptoms, the doctor advised we return as soon as possible to the U.S. for further tests. Dad asked if it were possible to have them done while we are here to be better aware of the options, and she agreed to do the bloodwork and then the results sent on to a rheumatologist in Cochabamba Bolivia where we were planning to visit next. My parents overheard her tell the other doctor that she strongly suspected systemic lupus... that she saw ¨these kind every day¨. Further bloodwork was completed in Cochabamba, where the rheumatologist confirmed the diagnosis as Systemic lupus erythematosus. She is currently taking prednizone and an anti malarial drug that is to help with her symptoms, and she is feeling better. Her desire is that this would bring her closer to the Lord, and that He would have the glory in this trial. At this point, we plan to stay down here longer, and are looking to the Lord for wisdom as to future plans. Thanks for your prayers for her and all of us!!

the other half of our boat trip

From Iquitios, we continued on the river. This time we were on a big boat, similar to the one we'd traveled on coming to Leticia. It was a cargo ship, the bottom deck containing all kinds of scrap metal stacked about ten feet high on either side of the narrow walkway leading to the stairs. Upon going up to the second level and entering the large, enclosed area with small, variously colored windows and benches lining the perimeter, three rows of hammocks containing people sitting, laying or sleeping with all their luggage scattered around were visible. On this level, in the front was an open space overlooking both the pile of metal junk immediately below, as well as the vast Amazon river and jungle visible when scanning the horizon. Our deck was the third; almost the highest. Here it looked very similar to the level below, but some of us were privileged to be able to stay in a “cabin”. If we would have gone on this boat before the first one, after walking in we would have taken a big breath, and been like “ok, we can do this”, but because we had already been through, this was luxurious in comparison. It was twice as big, had bunks that were a foot wider, and had individual bathrooms in each room! This time, mom being with us, instead of having to fit ten people's luggage, and two people in one tiny room, we had two way bigger cabins to fit five people, and everyone's luggage. Each room had a pair of steel bunks to the left, with thin, green mattresses to lay on. At the head of each of the beds was a window, where in the mornings we could pull back the thick, matching green curtains, and see the soft pink, blue, and orange sky as the sun began to rise. To the far back, taking up about 1/3 of the room (about four by eight feet) was the bathroom. Immediately behind the slightly blue tinted glass door was a brown, corroded, seat-less toilet, filled with brown, murky, Amazon water, that returned from where it came from as soon as it was flushed. Between it, and the faucet coming from the ceiling, serving as a shower was a small sink, and mirror, all being in the same room, and each using the same source of water; the Amazon. So whether you took a shower, washed your hands or flushed the toilet, it was all the same opaque brown water flowing out. Knowing that the river, where the water was coming from was the also the local sewer system wasn't the most comforting thought as you stood there taking an uncomfortably warm shower, or turned on the faucet to wash your hands. But, we were all extremely thankful for the room, bathroom, and although filthy water, something less dirty than we we were to use while cleaning up every once in a while.

Compared to the others on the boat (excluding Ben and Dave), we were very fortunate. They all had to sleep on the deck in hammocks with all the other hundred people, their children, babies, and assortment of small pets. At night the TV blared, babies cried, parrots in little wooden crates squaked, people rudely rammed into your hammock, and large men snored. All this occurred with the lights on. From our room we were able to hear all the commotion during the night, but were able to turn our lights out, making it much more comfortable. The first night, we thought we'd discovered what everyone else had overlooked... a space where we could put our hammocks up on the VERY top level. Although the sound of the engine was absolutely deafening there, considering the smoke-stacks rose from below, it seemed to be deserted. We hung our hammocks all up there to save spaces. Us girls even decided we'd rather sleep up there in the fresh air, than inside a protected cabin. Later that night we discovered that the place was not so deserted. It was for the captain who was off-duty, and his crew. One man rudely told us to get downstairs, but as we fought with trying to undo the knots Ben had securely tied, making sure there was NO WAY someone would fall, a man came up and said it would be ok, but just tonight. We found out he was the captain! It was so beautiful up there. The noisy deck below was inaudible due to the constant droning of the engine, and there was a cool breeze circulating the whole night as we lay in our hammocks talking, looking up at the vast sky, or out over the dark, now quiet jungle. So, that night we slept up there; a guard pacing back and forth carrying his shot-gun over his shoulder, not being careful in the least with it, pointing it in every direction, practicing absolutely no gun safety techniques. Because he had to keep himself awake all night he kinda hung around and tried to talk to us, but we were so tired we fell right asleep.

The next few nights, because it was a little too cozy, warm, and sweaty sleeping two girls to a bed in the cabin, it was decided two would sleep out on the deck every night. It wasn't as bad as it's description most of the time, but stopping at little villages all hours of the night did get a little frustrating, having people ducking under your hammock to get by then standing up too quickly, giving you a jerk, waking you up. Then, it seemed even though all we had to do on the boat was just sit all day anyways, some people would be up and awake at like four or five in the morning! Although not the most pleasant awakening, the sunrises were always beautiful over the water. If the boat would get close to the bank, or stop at a village, cutting it's engine at that time, the sounds of all the jungle animals could also be heard. Some places little monkeys were visible swinging from the branches of banana trees. Other times our boat would be passing canoes, and looking down from where we were, HUGE fish would be visible in their boats. Some so big you hardly knew how they could fit in such a small boat without it sinking!

Meals on the boat were pretty decent. For those in the cabin, two were served, then the others would go down to the second level, their own bowls and spoon in hand, and wait in line for their turn. Although the meals for those in the cabin were definitely better, the others were good too. We had quite a bit of fresh fish from the river, as well as yuca, rice, and chicken. To drink we were given avena (a liquid oatmeal, which most of us considered delicious) for breakfast, and tea at dinnertime. We also brought snacks, and large amounts of water and soda in case we needed more than was given.

Time was an abundance for the five days we were on the river. Some hung out in the hammocks, taking frequent naps, others played Rook, Phase 10, and Authors (mostly Ben, Nate, Anna and Dave, with Cam and I coming in every once in a while), Lydia and I enjoyed painting up on the top deck, sometimes some of us would play soccer, or volleyball up there too, but after accidentally hitting the volleyball over the side, and watching it disappear down river, into the distance, we decided that might not be the cheapest way to spend our spare time. Having time to read our Bibles, and having quiet time with the Lord was really one of the things we appreciated the most. We could just go up on the top deck, and even if people WERE making noise up there we wouldn't hear it! Being up there was just amazing. Although I realized for the first time I COULD get a headache from too much loud noise, being up there for short increments was awesome. The whole jungle (well at least part of the whole) spread as far as you could see ahead of us being interrupted only by little villages and the winding river, looking like it had gotten lost, reminding me of nonobjective termite tunnels going every which way, having no specific destination. During the day, it was extreamely hot, but dawn, and sunset were the most amazing times to be up there. The sky, with parrots and elegant white birds flying overhead, would turn all sorts of vibrant colors that looked photo shopped. Sitting up there, in the coolness, a slight breeze, you'd just get lost in the beauty of it all.

People on the boat were interesting. The only other tourists were two girls in their twenties from Spain, here to help the disabled in the Jungle. They knew some English, and we talked with them a little bit. One of them played the guitar, and at night she would sometimes take it out, and play. Because of the beautiful music, and lack of anything else to do, people would gather around and listen. One night Lydia and I climbed up on a pile of crates near where she was playing, and laid on our backs listening to the soft singing and strumming, talking, and looking up at the starry sky, watching for shooting stars. Talking with one of the girls, we found she really didn't have a “religion”, she said she believed everyone is right, and everyone's religions have good points. It's so hard to know what to say to that kind of person! The little kids on the boat were crazy. One of them was terribly rambunctious. He wasn't exactly BAD, but was always doing little things to get a reaction from anyone he could. He threw bugs at us, as well as tried to drop them in our soup, would come into our rooms unannounced, beat up other little kids, and insist on HIS way. Another girl I talked to was going into nursing like me, so I really enjoyed talking to her. She was almost more of a doctor, but was doing “practice” time in the remote Amazon villages. It was her first time out in the jungle like this, and she was really nervous about the primitiveness of it. On the boat also, in a hammock near where the boys were sleeping was a little old man, somewhere in his late eighties or nineties. He was terribly skinny, every bone in his body was visible. The light in his eyes was dim, and he was very weak. According to the lady traveling with him, he had cancer, and was going for treatment in Pucallpa. Honestly, he didn't look like he would last much longer. One night we had our Bible reading with him, all sitting around his hammock. I'm not sure exactly what religion he was (probably Catholic), but the whole time he had his hands pressed together in front of his face with his eyes shut, as if he was praying. He, and the lady traveling with him both really enjoyed the singing too (even though we WERE right by the smokestack, where you could barely hear).

Every evening we would have a Bible reading. We started reading in 1 Corinthians on the boat to Leticia, and continued on. One night was with that man, two nights we all squished in one of the cabins. Guys on the top bunk, girls below them, Dad sitting on a bench outside the bathroom. It was SO warm in there, and the next night we decided to go out on the front deck. We all sat there with our flashlights, singing out of our hymnbooks, when people started to gather around. It was pretty much like they'd done with the girls from Spain. They were curious as to what these Americans were doing; reading and singing in Spanish, when they really spoke English. Some were really interested, and talked to my dad even after the like two-hour reading. It was neat. After that, there were a few Christian kids who had listened, and afterwards took out a keyboard they'd brought (one of them was on their way to Lima to find a better life, working as a clown, playing the piano...) and played Christian songs on it. It was awesome, just sitting there, cross-legged in a circle, on a boat, in the middle of the Amazon river, singing with Christians, at night, watching the stars.

Sunday was a little compicated. The day before, when we'd stopped for a while it a little town, we'd gotten off to see if we could find wine for remembering the Lord in his death. So, we were going through this town, the only white people, going around asking for where they sell wine in this jungle village. One place we asked they were like, “sorry, we don't have wine, but we do have rum?”. We were like “uh, no thanks”, and finally did find a place. So, when we were actually there, remembering Him, we had this little “pansito” on a blue and white checkered napkin, and next to it the wine in a flimsy, clear plastic cup, sitting on a little “table” having all kinds of random articles on the shelf below. Again, we were on the bunk-beds, but this time, being during the day, it was SO stuffy, hot, sweaty, and really hard to concentrate too. It was probably the most unique Breaking of Bread I've ever been to!

The whole boat ride was a really awesome experience, and a really nice little break before launching off to more craziness.






As soon as we got to Pucalpa, we spent the day with Franklin and Ruth's (from Lima) niece who lives there, then got on a bus that evening. Eight hours later we arrived in Huanuco, showered (the first REAL time, with CLEAN WATER in over a week!!!!!), slept a couple hours, ate, spent the day with the brethren, went to meeting that night, then were on another night bus to Lima. Getting in at five AM, we got taxis to the Flores. After eating breakfast, started right in on the wash that needed disparate attendance. Us girls hand washed all the clothes, and put them up on the clothesline like the whole day. The Lord gave us an amazingly sunny, warm day for the wash to dry. The day before, as those after were all typical; smoggy, cold, and NO sunshine, but that day was perfect. We unpacked, repacked, slept the night there, then were off another bus for Bolivia the following afternoon.

Fast Boat Adventures

Cam wrote this a long time ago, and I didn´t realize it wasn´t up yet....

well as instructed i am writing from a sweaty hot and smelly room over looking the muddy ugly and polluted village which connects directly to the amazon river with the same conditions. Ben now told me that he is going to fire me for what i just wrote. let's say the true interpretation of his “instructions” is that a lap top is very good to have because we can describe our surroundings and they're not always a stinky internet cafe. the room here is actually quite comfortable, gracias a Dios. and compared to last night, this place is a Hilton. but let's back up from there. first of all, i won't comment of dear Uncle Dan's need to be in the internet office for 3 hours before we left Leticia nor Dave's heroic attempt to help us across the mighty amazon at 11 at night by contracting with 2 fortune seeking boat stealers. but still, i'm still getting ahead of myself. our “last supper” was prepared by the loving hands of Bethany, Daniella, me and Aunt Martha. Nathans loving hands were occupied showing some of our friends from school around the lap top. they were sweet and it was fun knowing we had made some different friends while staying there. we then told them goodbye and started our pizza dinner...one of our favorite meals while there. we had a very touching speech/prayer from Dani one of our faithful friends here. while eating i was sure to remind Dave to enjoy every last bit of the American luxury. our dinner was over at 7ish which moved directly into making room for all of the last minute things in our bags. around 9 we set off for the port, using our most popular method of transportation: walking. the bags were carried in the jeep and we set off on foot. that is when we were brought to our boat. after about ½ hour of standing around we threw our things into the borrowed boat. we said all of our goodbyes to Paul, Martha, Bethany, Matthew, Dani, and Durley. then we sat and waited in the boat while one of the boys tried to get the motor started. he tried probably 49 times, winding the cord around the thing that spins then pulling with all his might. near one of his last attempts the motor started then abruptly quit. we had been waiting for nearly 20 minutes and the thought of the motor finally starting was a relief. then to our great shock and astonishment a older man walked onto the boat saying in distinct Spanish “this is my boat, and it is not going any where. if you do not get out and leave it alone i will call the police.” then through a maze of confusion we found out that the boat and motor had been temporarily borrowed or to be less polite: stolen. the funny thing is, is that the boat had a leak in it with the bottom being so rotten that if it had ran into a floating obstacle of some sort we would have been swimming with all of our luggage across the amazon. instead of this adventure, we dragged our things back up the hill to where we got a taxi into Tabatinga, Brazil. there Uncle Dan woke up the boat dock guard and convinced him to take us across to Santa Rosa, Peru. we loaded our things onto a considerably more luxurious boat with a non-decomposing base, a dry wood floor to walk on, and a good paint job. we slipped away from the dock with our friends standing by to wave us goodbye. then we floated into the dark amazon as our boatman took us safely across to the other side. through the haze of 12:15 in the morning i gathered that our boat was next to the fast boat we were going to board at 4:30 in the morning. we then decided to just sleep on the floating dock next to the boat. well some of us did. Nathan, however, decided to accept the dare from Dave and stay up all night “watching the stuff.” Daniella found herself a bed on a bench, i found one beneath her, and the rest threw up hammocks, grabbing 3 quick hours of sleep. i must not forget to remember the squadrons of F-17s (other wise known as mosquitoes) that Aunt Cheryl was trying to fight off through the night. they must've been hungry in order to be willing to bite through the hammock and her clothing, finally getting their midnight stack. then around 4 in the morning we woke up to a gathering of fellow fast boat travelers. we brought our passports to be stamped, loaded our luggage, and found our seats on the fast boat. at 4:35 we putted away in our fast boat from the floating dock. amazing how after such a rigorous evening of things not going as planned some things can just happen like clock work. so here we were, on our way to Yquitos. during the boat ride we got a good ham sandwich and coffee for breakfast, then lunch was rice, a potato, stuffed chicken, Inca cola, and 2 candies. the ride was enjoyably cool. after that trip i discovered that when you're tired enough one can really sleep anywhere. apart from the good food, talking to Daniella, sleeping, and watching a boat that was stuck try to wiggle it's way out of a sand bar, nothing of much intense interest happened. well that's my ride Nathan and Anna, however, had a different experience with “Pony” a local “energy drink” spilling on them. Anna was just about to fall asleep on the dirty yet comfy ground when a “sailor” thought “this poor beautiful gringa needs a pillow...here, i'll be her handsome frog and give her a life vest.” turning to give her the life vest he did not realizing his heroic attempts to be the princess's frog had been altered by a bottle of “Pony” sitting in the pocket of the life vest. he then turned the vest upside down pouring “Pony” all over poor Anna. then being wedged between two seats, Anna could not turn to miss the flow of “Pony” and sat staring up at the sailor in helpless horror. Nathan, sitting directly above Anna grabbed the life vest and showed the sailor the bottle of “Pony” the sailer then chucked it out the window and brought Nathan a towel. Nathan started to wipe off the seat then moved to Anna when the sailor came and snatched the towel back. once we arrived we were greeted by our ripped backpacks and many moto taxi drivers. we chose 3 drivers and were brought to our old favorite “motel.” the view from where i write this really is quite incredible. the lush green jungle, the quaint huts built off of the ground with a roof made out of palm fronds, and finally the silvery blue amazon. the sun will be setting soon showing another day completed here on this earth. which just means one day closer to spending an eternity with Him. we will be going to get supper when Aunt Cheryl and Anna return from their quest for water. the Lord continues to carry us here, and shows His good and caring hand to us through our path down here. Lydia just came and informed me that we are looking at going on a boat for Pucalpa to marrow. your prayers for us on the rest of this journey are greatly appreciated. we will continue to remember the words from the song that i am just now listening to “in Christ alone my hope is found, he is my light, my strength, my song. this corner stone, this solid ground, firm through the fiercest drought and storm. what heights of love what depths of peace when fears are stilled when striving cease, my comforter my all in all, here in the love of Christ i stand.”


-Cam

Motorcycle Adventures...

Because the jeep is broken down, Dad was going to relay those who wanted to go out to Kilometer 18 on the one rented motorcycle he had. Dave had already been dropped off, and Dad had come back for the next person. It ended up that Lydia and I were the only ones who were here, and wanted to go, so it was decided I was going to drive the two of us out there, then Dave would ride with her back, leaving me there for the night. I was a little bit nervous driving, especially considering I didn't have a motorcycle license, had never driven that far, on a public road, with someone who didn't know how to drive riding on the back. And we are in South America. In Colombia (the country with the worst driving I've seen in any of the countries down here). In Leticia (a jungle town where everyone rides motorcycles, and there are I don't know how many deaths because of it every year). On a long, country road. Without a cell phone, or any type of communication. Having only two girls. On a rented motorcycle.

Nonetheless, we prepared to go. Putting on our helmets, we made sure they were ones that actually DID buckle under our chins (or that we could at least tie the strap). Dad kick-started the moto, and we were ready. I kinda had a moment of hesitance, and decided I was going to make sure I could kick-start it myself, in case something happened. After a couple attempts, it started. Mom felt a little uneasy about this, and reminded Dad to pray with us before letting us go. “Make sure you get back before dark, the moto needs to be back at the rental place before then”, Dad reminded me before we left. The wheels bumped over the curb, and onto the street. Starting off was a little shaky. We went a little swervy, and in trying to avoid the pot-holes, I managed to hit every one! Once we were out of sight, and going a bit faster, it was easier to keep my balance, and drove in more of a lazy snake-shaped line, than an earthquake meter. Driving in the town was a little more difficult than on the kilometer road, having to avoid the motos turning right in front of you, and big trash trucks stopped in the middle of the street. As we passed the gas station, I wondered if Dad had filled the tank recently, but the thought, “He wouldn't send us way out there without making sure we had enough... besides, we have to get out there soon, there's no time check and see”.

As we leaned through the curves, and sped past the large open areas with cows grazing, then the dense jungle patches, watching the sun slowly sinking behind the tree-tops, the thought had completely escaped my mind, until the motorcycle started to sputter. Then it started going slower... and slower... and slower, until it came to a complete stop. Right in the middle of our lane. “I think we ran out of gas”, I said stating the obvious. We jumped off, then started pushing the motorcycle to the side of the road. It was really hard to push. It would go for a few feet, then the tire skid for the next, continue for a couple more, and stop rotating again. That is when I realized it was still in gear, and had to pull up the little gear changer until the little light showed we were now in neutral. We pushed to a little driveway leading to a house, which was blocked by a metal gate. Beside it, driven into the ground was a little gray rock, and painted on the white part were little black numbers indicating we were at kilometer 14.

Great. It's starting to get dark, we're two girls without a cell-phone, or even a phone number we could call, with a motorcycle that's out of gas, in the middle of nowhere, four kilometers from where we want to go, and 16 from where we came from... as well as all those other things I mentioned earlier.

We had a short prayer and discussion as to what should be our next step. “Let's just keep walking”. So that's what we did. Not wanting to get ourselves in any trouble, we decided to avoid going to any houses to ask for help, and try to walk out the four kilometers. Lydia carried the stuff, while I pushed the moto. This is when we realized that our front tire was also flat. Deciding to take advantage of the fact there was NO possible way we could be back before dark, let alone arrive at the Bible school before then, we decided to enjoy our time. Slipping off our flip flops, we walked, kicking through the water sitting in puddles on the road, remaining from the morning rain. As we talked, parrots flew over the trees silhouetted against the orange sunset sky, trying to drown us out with their loud squawking. We were thankful that it was evening, and not the middle of the afternoon. Although we were just walking, we were pretty warm, but having the sun behind the trees helped keep us cooler.

It was getting darker by the minute when we decided plan #1 wasn't going to work. We were going to HAVE to ask someone for help if we wanted to get there before midnight. A guy walking towards us walking a bike with a flat tire looked nice enough. “Do you know where there might be somewhere we could get gas?” well, apparently there was a “white house” somewhere down the road a little bit, but after arriving at a house, there was no way to tell whether it was white or not, it was too dark. There was a little bridge across the ditch consisting of two boards laid side by side, just wide enough for the motorcycle's tires. In order to turn the hunk of metal enough to straighten it out, Lydia had to lift up the whole back end of it, while I pushed, walking through the ditch so the moto could stay on the bridge. At one point, forgetting the exhaust pipe was hot, I tried to catch the thing while it was falling over, and it made a pretty nasty burn on my leg. As we trudged through the mud to the house, I smeared some over it to soothe it (in attempting to wash it off later that evening, scrubbing it to get the grains of dirt out, peeling shriveled skin along with it, I came to the conclusion that hadn't been the best of ideas, but it felt good until then!). “Buenas noches!” I called standing in the dark outside the house. I could tell someone was inside, because of the light shining out from beneath the front door, but nobody answered for a little while. When a woman finally opened the door and peering out she exclaimed, “Ay! Me asustaste!”. I can imagine why she was scared. After dark, having someone calling outside your house, in a strong American accent, hearing no motor indicating how they had gotten to your front door. But after seeing us two girls standing there with the silent motorcycle, looking very unimposing, she opened the door wider, and asked what she could help us with. After explaining what had happened, she told us apologetically that her husband had run out of gas the night before, but to go to the next “white house” down the road. By now we really were wondering how to find these “white houses” when it was completely dark outside. We tramped back through the mud, and back to the street.

The next house we came to looked promising. It looked very well kept up, and two stories, built of concrete. To the side of the house was a car, indicating we had a pretty good chance of getting gas. After about five minutes standing outside the gate yelling “Buenas Nooocchhessss” to no avail, we decided this was not the answer to prayer we were looking for, and continued walking. I had decided to just try to make it the 13.5 more kilometers, and not take a chance, when we came upon a house that had a tire with a stick piercing right through the middle. I recognized it as usually being a sign for a “taller”, or repair shop. Maybe they would have gas here. I started calling the “good evening” I had yelled out at the last two houses, when Lydia gave me the brilliant idea of asking if they have gas. Minutes after the “Tienen gasolina?” was out, we saw the front door swing open, and the outline of a shirtless man walking cautiously out of it. In one hand was a flash-light, and in the other was the red glow of a cigarette butt. Shining the flashlight in our faces he walked close to where we were. He wasn't very friendly when we told him our predicament, slowly opening the gate letting us in. Lydia and I prayed together before proceeding. “Do you have gas?” I asked again as we walked in. “I'll see” he responded and kept walking the flashlight sweeping back and forth in front of him. When we arrived at the front of the house I stopped, as he disappeared around the back corner. Seeing we weren't following, he looked back at us, and motioned to come back saying, “Hay luz aqui donde podemos ver mejor”. Yeah, there WAS a light back there where we could see, but there was also a light in FRONT of the house close to where we were standing where it was shining plenty bright. But, we still didn't even know if he had gas! I asked again, and this time his response was, he thought so... I pushed the motorcycle under the circle of light, and told him we could see fine right where we were. He kinda smiled, and disappeared. I was starting to get a little bit uneasy with the whole situation, and we stopped to pray one more time together. He was gone for a while before walking back out through the front door hauling a big, five-gallon container of gas on his shoulder. Pulling it down, he had me hold a water bottle, cut in half, using it as a funnel to pour the gasoline into the tank, spilling the cold liquid over my hand. Lydia paid him, and after thanking him, we got out of there as quickly as we could... thanking the Lord for keeping us safe.

Once back on the road, I realized that I was going to have to kick-start the moto again. I was a little more confident since I'd started it at the house earlier, but wasn't completely comfortable. After kicking it over and over again, without it starting I got discouraged, and was about to call the guy, who was now disappearing into his house, to come back, and start it for me when I finally got it, and the sound of the motor sounded like music to our ears. It was wonderful to know we'd be able to make it somewhere, faster than walking. After starting it, I realized that the front headlight appeared as if it had gone dead. It had been on the whole walk without the engine being on, and had probably burned out or something. I got on, and Lydia swung her leg over, sitting behind me. That is when I really realized how flat the front tire was. Driving started off even more wobbly than when we'd left the house! It was worse when I tried pressing buttons, and switching switches thinking there might have been a chance I'd turned the lights off sometime during our trek, but after almost crashing, I decided to concentrate more on driving.

So here we were, two American girls, on a long Colombian road in the middle of nowhere, driving a motorcycle with a flat tire, and no headlight. By now it was practically pitch black all around us, the white cement road ahead of us was the only thing visible, but the potholes were not... no matter what size they were. The “dashboard” saying how much gas (which obviously didn't work) we had, how fast we were going, and all that was all lit up. Now all I could see was the bright light shining up at me from below telling us we were in third gear, going thirty kilometers an hour. But, I'd really have rather been able to see the road than this bright annoying light under my chin, blinding me from seeing the important things in the road like big branches, small animals, or deep puddles. Thankfully I had grabbed one of Paul's nice helmets (instead of a rented one... the ones that have broken chin straps, no padding and fall off your head...) that completely covers your head, has a chin strap, and is like a “normal” motorcycle helmet that has a part that goes in front of your jaw and chin as well. So, I drove with my nose up in the air, appearing like I was enjoying all the wonderful night jungle smells, but in reality was blocking the bright green light with my jaw/chin guard on my helmet, so I could see the road. In riding this way, I was also able to look up into the sky and see the sliver of the moon, with the scattering of stars covering the heavens. They were all so bright, not being anywhere near civilization where there's “light pollution”.

After bouncing over some pretty big branches, then bumping down into a couple shallow, abrupt ditches in the middle of the road, I decided this wasn't the appropriate time for star gazing... and attempted to pay more attention to where I was driving, which still didn't improve much, considering the chin/jaw guard wasn't really intended for shielding my eyes from getting light bleached from the “dashboard”. The next day when riding back, I saw those enormous branches were placed in the middle of the lane (being extra big so nobody would miss seeing them... except for a couple of gringa girls riding a motorcycle down a deserted road, at night, with a flat tire, and no headlight) so that they would not run over the construction area where road workers had dug into the concrete of the road, making little ditches for some unknown reason. We managed to hit both in one shot!

Thankfully nobody else was on the road (even people with pumped up tires AND a headlight weren't out on the kilometers after dark), so we were able to drive right down the middle, where there were the least “alterations” to the road. The whole ride I was thinking, “Lydia was an amazing person to have broken down with me. I was so glad I was with her!”. She didn't panic, or get worked up... we both were just like, well, this is how it is, and we can't do much to change it, so we'd might as well make the best of the situation... and we did! We actually had fun!

When we finally pulled up, parked the motorcycle, and walked in, Dave was like “I was starting to wonder if you'd guys would EVER get here!”. He'd already finished playing sports with them (well obviously, it was now way dark), and been for a swim in the “manigua” with everyone. We explained to everyone what had happened. Then, realizing there really was no way for Dave and Lydia to get back in the shape the motorcycle was at that moment, we came to the conclusion they would just have to stay the night also, and go back the next morning on one of the three buses that pass there daily. Hopefully once they got back, Dad would know what to do next.

After being there for about a half hour, Dad called. But, because we were out of cell-range, the call dropped. Here those with cell phones have pre-paid minutes, and neither Tita, nor Luz had minutes, meaning they could only receive calls. Dad kept on calling, and then it would keep dropping. Finally I got the majority of the message to him, and he said he'd come on out, and figure out what we'd do from there.

Lydia and I helped in the kitchen making dinner. Everything they cooked was on a long, thin
gas stove; the kind used for cooking in restaurants. Having no oven, the food was all put in these huge cauldron-like pots. Standing over the hot stove, we steamed rice (which I'm starting to find EVERYONE does differently... Tita does it one way, Luz another which are different than either my mom's way, or even Martha's) then added peas, and other vegetables. In a small frying pan, bananas sliced in nickle-shaped pieces were spitting oil as they fried. One little piece of chicken was fried for each person as well, before serving them all up in bowls. We had some sort of native fruit juice, which was delicious.

Before were were done making the meal, dad showed up on a moto taxi. He took a look at our moto, and decided he would just try to drive it back to the house with Dave sitting as far back on the seat as possible to try to relieve the weight on the front tire. Lydia would ride back with the “mototaxista”. Dad got on the moto, started it on the first try, then switched on the headlight. I was incredulous. Had it been that simple? I must have accidentally switched the light off when walking the moto or something. So, we had driven all that way without a headlight, putting ourselves in more danger than we were already in, only because we hadn't stopped, and made a more dedicated effort to find the light.

As they drove slowly off into the dark, I wondered how this would all work out... both them getting home, and I staying here the night with people I'd only seen three times my life.

Everyone sat down around the long, tall table, and bowed our heads as one of the students prayed. After finishing their large bowls of rice and chicken, everyone was allowed to have seconds from the large pot. It was amazing how much the small Indian guys could eat! They must be like Nathan; eating more than double what everyone else eats, but staying skinny.

After dinner everyone washed their own plates and silverware, then certain ones had jobs for cleaning the bigger dishes.

Then, while the students worked on homework, Aldo and Tita played the guitar, and sang. They sang some of the same Christian songs that the guy in Macedonia played, as well as others. It was beautiful! Once again, I sat listening to the beautiful singing, and guitar playing while trying to follow on where I could, just enjoying the amazing Christian fellowship. Even though we speak more than three different languages, we're from three different countries and have three completely different cultures, there is one thing that joins us together, completely overcoming all those barriers. Jesus, what he's done for us, and the desire to share it with others.

By nine-thirty guys had to be in their room, and the girls in theirs, lights being turned off shortly after. Both the guys and girls went through the sheets serving as doors separating the “dormitories” from the one, big room. We sat on the beds for a while, talking, sort of learning some Ticuna words, such as the numbers, which I've now forgotten. It was interesting to me, how we count by tens (and ones I guess too...) but they count by fives. I don't know if that makes sense, but like they count to five, then like say one-one, one-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, then start over two-one two-three... I'd never really thought about how other cultures say their numbers.

Trying to pack as little as possible, considering we were on the moto, I hadn't brought pijamas... Luz let me borrow hers. Being she is about a foot taller than me, and quite a bit bigger, they were pretty much huge on me, but at least I didn't have to wear my clothes I'd worn on the trip over.

I was on the bottom of a two-level bunk bed. The yellow mosquito net, containing several patches around the perimeter, was hanging from the four corners above me, then tied in a knot at the top. I watched as the other girls carefully undid the knot making sure there was no way mosquitoes could get inside it as they did. Tucking them all around under their mattresses, they would leave one little section allowing them to climb in. Once that was accomplished, after squirming in, they'd tuck in the last little section too. As soon as everyone was safely in their net cocoon, one person was elected to turn off the light, and either use a flashlight or just feel around to get back to their bed.

We said goodnight, and could hear the guys over in their room saying their goodnights too. I couldn't understand, but the Ticuna guys must have been saying some sort of joke in their language, and were all laughing.

Soon, everyone was quiet, and deep in sleep, considering they wake up so early every morning, working hard and studying all day. I stayed awake a little longer, enjoying the complete darkness, as well as the only sounds being jungle noises. I could hear crickets, frogs, all kinds of other insects, and animals. Such a contrast to being in the town of Leticia, the neighbor's lights being on all night, dogs barking, and roosters crowing at all hours of the night. I could have laid there all night under my mosquito net just listening to the jungle's night song, but in trying it lulled me to sleep, and I drifted off.

I woke up to the sound of cheerful whistling, singing, sweeping, and talking. It was five-thirty, or six, and everyone was up doing their different assigned jobs, but me. Tita walked by bunk and said “buenos dias”. I jumped up, got dressed, then went into the kitchen where she was lighting the stove with a long candle (instead of just the cigarette lighter, because she's scared she'll leave the gas on too long without being able to get the spark of the lighter, and it will end up exploding). She started the hot chocolate, given as a snack to all those working before breakfast.

To the side, she had a big bowl of masa to make arepas (a sort of pancake-like breadish thing that is pretty much like a dough nut, only not sweet). She had me pour cold water over the mix while she kneaded it with her hands, until it was just the right consistency. Then, she separated the dough into enough sections for each of us to have two. From there, the two of us would roll them into a more spherical balls. After rolling them for about thirty seconds, it began to flatten out, making a UFO shape. Then it was time to hold it in one hand squeezing it between your fingers and thumb muscle with your other hand just with the tips of your fingers and thumb going around making it flat. Once it was almost the right shape, you'd slap it back and forth between your hands, sort of how the ladies in Mexico make tortillas. Tita laughed at me because of how slow I would slap it between my hands; she on the other hand looked like she was clapping, she did it so fast, doing it the way she's done it ever since she was little. It reminded me of what we'd do with silly-putty. Once they were the perfect roundness, and thickness, they were placed on a grill sitting over the stove.

While they were cooking, we made coffee the same way we'd done the other morning I'd been, with the coffee-grounds in a sock-like strainer, put in boiling water inside the metal pitcher.

Once it was all done, we served up the plates, and placed them on the shelf for the everyone to take to their seats. We sat down, and thanked the Lord for breakfast.

After finishing eating, everyone scattered to their different jobs again, cleaning up the dishes, as well as getting ready for the day's classes.

Finishing quite a bit before Tita, Aldo and I, the students went out for fifteen minutes of reading a passage in Proverbs, and meditating on it with Luz. Looking from the doorway where we were, all the students sitting under the palm frawn covering at the little wood tables, made of trunks, bent over their Bibles. There outside, mist covered everything. You could barely see the trees from the jungle peeking out behind it. You could hear all the birds singing everywhere around, as well as a (very) occasional motorcycle motor driving past on the road.

After the fifteen minutes of meditation, the students returned to the long house, where Tita led the Bible reading, where we first sang with the guitar, then each person told what they had learned or thought about as they had read Proverbs 12:18-20. I sort of thought that was too easy, but soon learned that these Indians really don't know much of the Bible at all, and are not even really educated. They were practically right out of the jungle tribes. It was a complicated task for them, first understanding the Spanish words, then gathering their own thoughts about what it said, and translating it from their language into Spanish again. Later Tita told me they might have been embarrassed to talk in front of me, so that may have been part of the problem too.

During the next break I went out to the little prayer hut to read, and pray. It was just so peaceful, and quiet. I wished we could stay out there at kilometer 18 with the Roberts the whole time here in Leticia. But, it's hard 'cause it's so far from everything; like groceries, the hospital, or anything else you'd need to buy.

Then, while she taught another class, Aldo and I prepped for lunch; cutting up onion, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic. He told me about the students, and how it wasn't easy working with them. He said it isn't possible to just tell them the gospel, about Jesus, and God, then leave, because others have done that before, resulting in a mix of their religion with Christianity. And each tribe has a different idea of how the world was created. One tribe believes that the world used to be in complete darkness under the shadow of a humongous tree, when an Indian came along with a machete, cutting it down allowing the sun to shine. Some believe man came from the pink dolphins on the Amazon river, who when they came too near to the shore would change from the dolphin to men and women. Another believe there was only one man on this world, who walked and walked on the face of the earth until he was really really old. That was when two bees came and bit him on each knee. Before dying, out of the bites on his knees became two other men. One was good, the other bad. Some of the Indians who heard the gospel decided that the good one was God, and the bad one was the Devil. So, what they're trying to do at the institute is start from a firm foundation, instead of just building on their previous beliefs.

For lunch, we mixed the vegetables we'd cut up in a pot with whole fish (with little slits one-fourth of an inch apart all along both sides, intend ended to “reduce the amounts of bones in the fish”, but really only cut them up in little pieces making it impossible to get through a tenth of a bite without having a million little pieces you have to pull out of your mouth. Others must just eat the bones because they're so small, but not me, I took double the time eating my piece than the slowest of them), boiled bananas in another, then steamed rice in the last. Carrying all the food and juice outside, we sat at the wooden tables where the students had been reading earlier. Instead of having one of the students pray in their native language, they had me pray in English.

After lunch, everyone kinda scattered doing their own thing. One guy, went off to find some balsa wood for the “ark” he was carving with a knife (they're learning about Genesis, and instead of calling it a “boat”, it was now re-named an “ark”). He went off with a machete in hand, and returned a couple hours later, soaking wet from the dip in the lagoon, carrying a good sized log, meaning he'd cut down a pretty big tree with just that machete. Aldo, Tita and I just kinda hung out in the hammocks until Aldo decided to get the blowgun, and styrofoam plate for a target. We had fun testing the strength of our lungs. Seeing a bat way up in the palm frawn ceiling, Aldo decided to see if he could get it; and sure enough he did. The dart went through it's wing, and had it pinned to the ceiling, while it made a high pitched squeaking. It was pure chance though. When he tried to hit it again, he was at least a foot off. Thankfully the little animal didn't die, and we left it hanging by it's toes on a nail nearby.

Behind where we'd left the tiny bat, I noticed a tree having two snow-shoe looking apparatuses wrapped with string holding it on. Each consisted of two poles, looking like they were hugging the tree, then on either side of the tree, perpendicular to the poles, wooden vines were holding them together. The night before, I had seen a short video-clip on the laptop of one of the Indians using these. He would climb up on the bottom one, push the second one up to about his waste, climb up on it, laying down pull the first up to where the second one is, stand on the first one again, pushing the second one up again. Kinda hard to explain, but is somewhat similar to an inchworm; it's top half of it's body going up, then pulling it's second half up, if that makes sense. It was pretty cool. At the top of the tree there were little round, orange fruit that he would cut off, and throw down. Wondering why they couldn't just shimmy up the tree like they do with coconut trees, I came closer to the tree, noticing it had two-inch long, skinny spines all the way up the trunk.

Tita invited me to come with her and Aldo on a hike into the jungle with them, but because she had most of the responsibility at the school that day, being as Luz had gone into Leticia for groceries and errands, it wasn't possible to do it that day. So, I was going to stay another night with them, and go early the next morning. I hadn't really talked with Dad about how long I could stay, but was sure he'd let me spend another night, but Luz called saying Dad wanted me back on the 2:00 bus back to Leticia.

We played a Spanish card game, which I've never played in my life, before I collected all my stuff, shoving it into my purse, and standing out on the street five minutes after hearing the “colectivo” pass the house coming from town, waiting for it to reach the end of it's route, then pick me up on it's way back.

I was sad I couldn't stay another night, but so thankful for the wonderful time I'd gotten to spend with such awesome, fun Christians... which were so easy to get along with, despite all the differences, especially considering we have more differences than things in common.

Nobody was in the little bus when I jumped into the front seat next to the driver. Before I'd gotten in, Tita told me his wife usually volunteered, helping with the cooking at the institute, but had fallen, hurting her ribs, and was recovering. I talked to him a little about that. He was a really friendly older man, telling me all he knew about the places on the sides of the road as we passed them. We only picked up passengers at one other stop. The “micro” was so bumpy, it's shocks were pretty much killed from driving that stretch of bad road so often.

The route went right past the corner by the house, I paid my 2.50, thanked the man, and walked back to the Roberts'.



A week later, three motorcycles were speeding back down that same bumpy, jungle road. Nate and Cam, Dave and Lydia, Ben and I decided to go again for their Wednesday “sports” time. This time four of us were planning on spending the night; everyone but Nate and Cam.

As it got dark, we played volleyball. It reminded me of the second time I'd seen these people, when we'd played. This time everyone was much more comfortable, and we were joking around the whole time. It was so much fun.

It was getting late when Nate and Cam jumped on their moto, and headed back to the house. Because everyone was hot and sweaty, it was decided to go swim in the “manigua”. Everyone but Luz, Tita and I went because someone had to stay to make dinner. I did end up walking Lydia down there, considering she hadn't been before and didn't know where it was. It was a beautiful walk. Jungle rising up on each side of the road, with the whole sky lighting up with lighting bolts zig-zagging across the looming clouds turning the heavens a bright electric purple behind us.

While they swam, we made “arroz con leche”. Rice boiled with milk, sugar, and cinnamon, having raisins plopped on top of the porridge looking mixture. It smelled delicious, and when everyone came back, we ate our light dinner.

Because the next week was the students last, they were doing some projects to finish up. As we helped them out, cutting, gluing, coloring and drawing, we sang, listening to Tita and Aldo play the guitar. It was fun just being relaxed, and comfortable with all the Christian young people.

At nine-thirty we separated, disappearing behind the doorway sheet into our rooms. Lydia slept where I had the week before, and I on the top bunk. The night noises were just as amazing as they were before, and perfect for falling asleep to.

Once again, we woke up to the sound of cheerful workers. This time it was Ben sweeping the “sala” instead of one of the students. Lydia and I helped make fried arepas, while the egg soup boiled on the stove. I was feeling sorry for Dave, because arepas are one of the only types of food he really doesn't care for, but thankfully he actually liked these kind that were fried instead of being baked with interesting cheese.

Immediately after breakfast Tita and Aldo took the four of us on a trek through the jungle back behind the school. Because we had forgotten to get running shoes, Lydia and I had to borrow boots and shoes from Tita to add to our breezy outfit of pants and long-sleeved shirts At first I was jealous of the boys who were wearing just their flipflops, tee shirts and shorts, but soon changed my mind. Although it was really warm as we walked, mosquitoes swarmed around us, even attempting to stick their little blood-sucking straws through our jeans!!

We had five machetes (which got circulated to the person without one) and walked slashing the vegetation on the sides, keeping the path wide enough to walk through. It felt as if we were explorers, climbing over fallen logs, forging small streams, and cutting out the trail. As we walked, the tall, leafy trees filtered the sunlight that shone down on patches on us. Having the covering kept moisture in, as well as kept the sun from shining straight down on us, keeping us as cool as we could be walking through the humid Amazon jungle in long-sleeves and pants. All of the sudden, Tita lifted her head toward the sky, and started searching the branches of the tall, overhead trees, “micos!” she exclaimed excitedly. Even though she couldn't see them, she could distinguish their shrieks from that of all the other jungle animal sounds (unlike the rest of us). Soon, her ears proved to be right, and the whole clan of monkeys swung through the branches overhead, while they screamed down at us as well as each other. Ben tried to take pictures, but those animals were so small, so fast, and so high up, it was really difficult to capture.

Halfway through our little adventure, we came upon a large log blocking the path about four feet off the ground, and a few feet in front of it long vines hanging from the trees around. Aldo decided to be the brave one, grabbed the vine, jerked on it a few times seeing how sturdy it was, walked over to the log, climbed up, then jumped off wrapping his arms and legs around it. Looking like fun, I decided to try it too. We were there for probably ten minutes trying to imitate the micos we'd seen earlier, climbing, swinging and yelling.

All along the path we examined all sortss of flora and fauna. There were huge florescent blue butterflies, their fluttering wings each as big as big as an open hand, while others were small, having wings that appeared like stained glass windows of which you were transparent. Weird bright orange fungus, big black beetles, leaf-cutter ants marching in a line to their large nest, and even pineapple plants with tiny pineapples just starting to grow, lined the path.

By the end of our two-hour trek, we were all getting a little worn out, and walked in silence. We were all SOAKED in sweat. Trying to look up around taking in God's creation wasn't as easy as it sounds. You had to walk with your head down examining the best place to put your next step, over logs, on moss instead of the gushy mud that made a sucking sound when trying to pull your boot out.

Back at the long house, lunch was already cooking, so while some sat in the hammocks, Dave, Ben and I took advantage of the volleyball net, and bumped the ball around a little until the food was ready.

We had beef prepared the same way as the fish I'd had before; with a bunch of cut up vegetables, on rice along with fried bananas.

Taking the break they usually did in the afternoon, we were deciding what to do since after playing only a little bit of volleyball nobody seemed very interested. That's the sky began to get dark with billowing, gray clouds. “Let's play Micro!” suggested Aldo. I'd seen pictures of the last time they'd played soccer with that little ball in the rain; EVERYONE had ended up COVERED in mud. I was a little bit hesitant, but it DID sound like fun.

We felt, as well as saw the first splatters on the dry powdery gray clay-like dirt as we begun to play. Soon it was pouring down on us. Everyone was soaked. The ground was beginning to get slippery, and slippier, and slippier until everyone was sliding all over the field. Certain areas were worse than others, and some would use that to their advantage kicking the ball away from an opponent and over into the growing mud puddle. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, it was also a disadvantage to the first person also, and both players would usually end up either on their back or stomach with fresh mud covering themselves. It was absolutely HILARIOUS to see someone go for a fast, hard kick only to miss the ball, their one leg flying up into the air using the momentum to pull up the other leg standing on mud as slick as a banana peel on a soapy tile floor, causing the poor victim to end up laying flat on their back, as the others continued to play above and/or around them, slipping on top of them as well, resulting in somewhat of an accidental dog pile. It was the most fun I've had in a long time. The whole time everyone was laughing so hard; both at ourselves, as well as everybody else. Pretty soon we were beginning to get exhausted from the whole waking up at 6, going on a two hour hike, playing volleyball for an hour, then this slippery mud soccer game day, and decided to get cleaned up. Only first we had to have a mud fight, of which I didn't really understand the purpose of, considering everyone was already COVERED head to toe in the slimy mud. But we went along with it, and soon learned we COULD get dirtier. Smear it in the hair, on the face, and just throw it randomly at whoever happens to be in front of you. Poor Tita and Luz had been attempting to avoid everyone, but when noticed they were pulled into the middle of the battle and smeared even more. Then we were VERY muddy, and wanted to get clean even more, considering mud chap stick isn't the most pleasant tasting flavor out there, and a bit grainy as well.

That's when it both stopped raining, and we realized there was no running water at the institute because the electricity was off. All of us but Tita and Luz (who had to stay with the place), walked down to the lagoon. We jumped off the little cement ledge into the luke-warm water, rinsing the gritty, slimy mud out of our hair, and clothes. As we swam around, I remembered what had happened the other week we'd been there. Nate had put the key for his motorcycle in his unzipped pocket, then jumped in, losing it in the mucky brown water. We'd combed the gross, mushy gooshy, try to avoid touching, bottom of that lake, to no avail. That's when we found out all the rented motorcycles could be started with another's key, and run without it... it made us a little more cautious the next time we rented motos.

We had fun climbing up on a floating log while two people held either side, then jumping, and flipping off of it. One time Dave dived in, confusing me, because his head and body went in quickly, then his legs and feet seemed to freeze for a second, then slowly disappear under the water following the rest of his body. When he came back up, his forehead was bleeding; he had dove right into a submerged log! We were so thankful he hadn't gotten more hurt than he did!

By this time, it was time for us to be heading back to turn in the motos at the rental shop. We didn't have dry clothes, so after throwing our stuff in our backpacks, thanking those there, we hopped on the motos, sopping wet and headed back home.

We rode side-by-side some of the time, and were staggered at other times. I could never get bored of riding a motorcycle through the country, especially here... I love it!