Bolivia is the perfect place. Seriously, where else can you pass off a little indigestion as “terminal flatulence?” I kid you not, that is a real condition caused by the altitude. We can’t help it, but we sure as heck are going to use that excuse to our benefit for the next two years (if not longer. There has to be some sort of readjustment period when you hit lower elevation, right?).
Along with TF, as we call it, we have discovered a myriad of other excuses to blame on the altitude or our lack of Spanish – and we’ve only been here a week. Here are a few…
Naps – they are practically a requirement. We’re not complete slobs. We actually do need to nap or go to bed by 9:30pm and then we sleep like dogs… or at least MH and The Dog do. Apparently it is normal to sleep very deeply and breathe like you just ran two marathons (on your tippy-toes). I am at the other end of the spectrum. I sleep for a few hours at a time and wake up alert but physically exhausted (apparently I am a marathon-breather, too). Part of this routine is because The Girl was waking up to eat every two hours – and she was freeeeezing. We have little heaters and humidifiers in each of our rooms and we haven’t been able to get the pajama/heater-setting combination right. We worry about her overheating, but last night I think we hit gold. She slept from 8pm to 8am (almost as long as her big bro) and woke up toasty warm. The Boy used to sleep like a champ (back in the States) and we are assuming he still does because when we put him down by 8pm we don’t hear from him again until at least 8:30am.
Appetite – this is another of those contradictory symptoms. Either you have an appetite or you don’t. The Girl obviously does (or she’s bored) and the rest of us have never been shy of the fork. Tell that to our cook, though.* The first few days she was making us mini-meals. I asked MH the first night if the pasta Bolognese was a first course… It was delicious and the perfect way to start out a larger meal. And it isn’t like we can go make ourselves something else. The Cook is standing there watching us. I think she understands our eating habits a little better after The Boy ate two-and-a-half quesadillas and left a half for MH and I to share. We were shocked that he was eating so much because up until then he wasn’t that hungry. We blamed it on the elevation and his ear infection. He’s in full form now, eating us out of casa and hogar.
Sex-based conventions – if you are reading this blog then you know me and you know that I rarely conform to typical sex-based conventions. I mean, sometimes we use them to our advantage. One conveniently timed roll-of-the-eyes gets MH out of a night in a smoky, noisy bar – “The Little Woman” doesn’t approve. It frustrates me, however, when people here tell me I am the “boss of the house.” Even if that is true to some extent, it is mainly because I am the one home all the time… not because I am TLW. It makes it difficult, though, when dealing with the staff. When MH comes home he as to do “my” work for me and discuss laundry, meals, baby routines. We can tell that they would much rather speak to me about it, but since my Spanish is basically non-existent, they have to deal with MH. The benefit is that I get out of the uncomfortable situations regarding salary, responsibilities, and other things we don’t like (such as taking The Boy in taxi rides). We all know that I pride myself on being the protagonist in awkward moments, I just don’t like putting other people in that position.
*Put aside your hatred of us for having a cook. It is a necessity here because of the cleaning procedure of foods and cooking areas. The Nanny isn’t a necessity, I agree, but they were a package deal AND The Boy and I are learning an awful lot of Spanish from her. For more, see my earlier blog about not hating us.
