Bird's Eye View

October 31 marks the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther's posting of his 95 Theses on the doors of All Saints' Church at Wittenburg, and the protestant churches of La Paz are fixed on making sure everyone knows it. Last week we visited a church where an hour was devoted to the history of the church. Someone I know seemed a little discouraged at the lack of Biblical exposition but I love history and found the lecture to be stimulating- a concise and well-supported narrative that seemed to be a continuation of Hebrews 11's "Hall of Faith," recalling the martyrdoms of, most notably,  Savonarola, John Wycliffe, and John Huss. It was a reminder that the battle for having God's Word in the hands of God's people was indeed a battle, and that much blood was spilled in the name of the false god of religion. The sermon was really an hour-long testimony to God's preservation of His Truth. Is it the church community we've chosen? Not sure yet. Danny still wakes up every Sunday morning and questions where to go. But we keep ending up there. The church is a plant whose "heritage" goes back to Parkside Community Church where my favorite radio preacher in the whole wide world (Alistair Begg) is the pastor. And this we discovered by coincidence. If you believe in that sort of thing. Which I don't. The Sunday School teachers speak in both English and Spanish which gives my kids a less intense immersion experience, for better or for worse. The praise and worship is a full hour, on our feet, which is pretty exhausting. But they play Chris Tomlin and Hillsong music in Spanish so the kids feel somewhat engaged even though they don't understand the words on the screen. And the playground has a zipline. So there's that.

Did the service prepare me for the week ahead? So-so. Pastor Hunter used to say a Christian needs three services a week to thrive and we have really seen how the lack of that has affected us here. One service a week makes you feel like you are checking off a box on the list of things Christians are supposed to do. It's a far cry from the emotional and spiritual investment of engaging with a community of believers multiple times a week, and the crafting of a lifestyle dedicated to living and breathing Scripture. We are going to start listening to Wednesday night podcasts from our old church to help with that void. We will nestle it between tennis classes!

The kids started tennis classes this week. Soccer was a flop but to my surprise, tennis was a winner. The kids loved it and, true to form, Noemie found the only kids at the tennis school that spoke English and they are the only kids Dominic and Noemie talk to. The kids are, of course, too happy to practice their English. My little Americans are resisting my immersion attempts without even trying. Gigi even speaks to our Spanish-only housekeeper in English and the housekeeper obliges.

Our housekeeper is my new best friend. God has always placed rational, calm, solid people in my life to help keep me grounded. Emily, Estera, Holly, Danny... perhaps you know one of these amazing individuals. He has come through again in Bolivia in my housekeeper. Take Tuesday for instance. I was wrapping up the last of our (late) breakfasts when Noemie's new viola instructor arrived half an hour early, at exactly the same time as an internet installation crew. I had strict orders to keep eyes on the installation workers at all times, but I had to introduce myself and Noemie to the viola instructor and his dad... because I didn't know the instructor was only 12 years old when I made the appointment. The men charged up the stairs on their mission to set up their internet things while the musicians stared at me expectantly, and... I still had an egg frying on the stove top. My housekeeper arrives at this moment, assesses the situation quickly, and offers to clean the bathrooms that are closest to the workers so to keep an eye on them. She says she'll take care of the breakfast dishes when she's done, which is technically not part of her duties. I pause the egg frying operation and check out with the viola teacher's father. I finish off breakfast in between bursts into the music room to encourage Noemie with kind words, smiles, and death threats through gritted teeth because the look of contempt on her face is obvious regardless of language barriers. Our instructor does not speak English and is trying to look composed under Noemie's glare. I offer my assistance, "Pulgar is thumb, Noemie"... "Muñeca is wrist, Noemie. Arco is bow? Ok, Noemie. We learn together. La is A... Oh right. You have to learn the solfege..." Sigh.

How are we adjusting? I'd say rather well. There are no libraries but I downloaded over 100 titles on Noemie and Dominic's Kindles for free from gutenberg.org so that keeps them from being bored. Now if I can only figure out how to get the Kindles to stop advertising steamy romance novels with suggestive cover art, I will feel like I'm winning. We try to get out of the house when we can. There's a playground a few blocks away, and the weather has been really great. The joke around town is that a person experiences all four seasons in one day here in La Paz. It's not unusual in the spring for the weather to fluctuate within a 30 degree range. There is snow on Mt Illimani but we are sweating in tee-shirts as we take a bus past the llama fetuses hanging from witch-shops in El Alto.

Last weekend we sampled the full gamut of public transportation. We took a taxi to the closest teleferico station, where we met up with friends. Then we took several teleferico lines into the mountains. The views were spectacular. We ate lunch in a Cuban restaurant, but the food tasted like Bolivian food. Can't fool me. We tried to buy Christmas presents on Calle Sagarnaga, a street known for its native handicrafts, but by this point we had already spent most of our money. So we took a bus back to our part of town.

The buses are kind of small and suspicious. We still don't have a car and, for now, don't plan to get one. It's rather impractical given the exorbitant cost of automobiles here, the affordability of taxis and public transportation, and the fact that the driving conditions would deteriorate the condition of any car pretty quickly. The uneven cobblestones are just the beginning. The driving here is also pretty interesting. People here drive the way one might walk in a crowd... they seem to just sort of "go", and try not to crash into things. Forget turn signals. Forget right of way. It's your turn if you feel like it. The horn communicates all sorts of things. Things like, "I'm going to go in reverse now so watch out." Or "I'm an empty taxi and you're a-walkin and I think we're a match waiting to happen." Sometimes it's a warning, "Run faster; I don't stop for pedestrians." Or "I'm tired of waiting and I'm crossing this intersection, ready or not." On the plus side, the garbage trucks play tinkly lullaby music like ice-cream trucks. The streets are, as one might expect, pretty noisy with all the honking and lullabies. And I'm ok not driving here.

Danny took the boys to a World Cup Qualifier soccer match to celebrate Dominic's birthday while the girls and I stayed behind to bake cupcakes for the boys that came over Friday to play video games and soccer.

Bolivia tied Brazil 0-0 but it was still a good game!

This weekend was much less eventful. I was set on riding a burro somewhere but alas, I failed to get more people on board with my idea. Maybe next week!