From Inner Searchings to Celestial Worship

When the meditation retreat ended, Claire and I found ourselves with no plan in a country of which we had very little knowledge, and almost no travel objectives.  We sat around the meditation center for a few hours and chatted with some of the interesting Vipassana participants, and observed many forms of art all coalescing at once: a group of musicians with guitars, wind flutes, clarinets, and a tambourine; a beautiful Japanese woman teaching contact-dancing to a few interested peers; a Bolivian artist named Pablo sketching the scene; and several people writing their thoughts as the days of silence ended and our minds and bodies adjusted to the increasing sensory information.

We flowed with the wave of the people onto a minibus, and into downtown Cochabamba.  Within 30 minutes, we were hauling backpacks through crowded streets where vendors hawked their wares, broad women sold chicken and potatoes, and cars and minibuses struggled for space.  A normal city scene really, but after looking around I was quite sure I wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by all the energy.  Struggling to maintain my newly-found (and lost) Zen, we journeyed to find ourselves a place to stay. We found a hotel about 10 blocks from the bus station, owned by a nice old couple who lived full-time in the compound and had made the hotel home to their beautiful plant collections.

We enjoyed our first time alone in 14 days to talk about the process we had just been through, and discuss what the meditation had meant for us.  Ironically, after planning what we would say to one another after all that time of silence, it seemed like words just couldn’t express the depth of the experience.  We discussed our plans, and decided that the next day we would head south to a jungle town about 10 hours drive by bus.

We woke slowly the next morning, the first in a while in which we woke without an alarm, past sunrise.  We ate breakfast, again slowly, at a city market covered with a tin roof; in which women own stalls to prepare their food, most of them offering the same deliciousness as their neighbors at the same price.  Initially astonishing, but later predictable, is that each of these women remain kind and courteous to one another as they compete for (or share) customers.  By the time we finished our dish, we had decided to stay another night – to take it easy, relax, and meet up with a few of our new Vipassana friends for an evening in the park.

That night we gathered with our friends (some of whom we had still not spoken with until that time, and many of whom whose names we did not know).  Still we were there like family, chatting, playing guitar, and just relaxing.  We were approached by some young Bolivians who had just bought a pipe and were trying to score some ganja.  I laughed at the irony of it: first, a local person asking a tourist where to find weed, second, that this group of long-haired, bearded, instrument-playing, handicraft-making and selling travelers was a sober group.  The youth didn’t get the joke, but he and his friend did (as many Bolivians) prove very interested in our travels and homes in foreign lands.

Two days turned into eight, as I caught a stomach bug that kept me weary of bus travel, and Claire decided to get a Wisdom Tooth pulled by a competent and inexpensive Bolivian Dentist ($50 without insurance, done the same day).  And, best of all, she faced no complications (anyone who knows Claire’s luck would expect this, of course…)

On the streets of Cochabamaba

During our time in Cochabamba, we shared in some marvelous experiences.  Our hosts at the hotel, as well as the many merchants and passer-bys we encountered in the street-side markets, were incredibly friendly.  As we were frequently the only obvious (white) foreigners around, we were approached for conversation and asked many questions by inquisitive, kind people.  It was a refreshing break from the tourist-laden streets of Cusco. 

On our first day of exploring we headed to a local hot springs, where we encountered an older couple who shared with us the single spring carrying the hot, sulfurous water in exchange for some theological banter.  The next day, we took a bus to the outskirts of town and walked for a few hours to reach a beautiful waterfall, cascading from the sharp cliffs of the rocky mountain slopes rising above the city.  Despite some trash (the distinction between clean nature and filthy landfills is often not so distinct) it was a pristine scene, and the first time since our retreat that we were welcomed by the calming sounds of nature.

The most unique experience we found while ‘recovering’ in Cochabamba was the solstice festival, introduced to us by a Vipassana friend named Begum from Turkey with a beautiful soul and a free spirit.  On June 21^st, which marks the longest day of the calendar year in the Northern Hemisphere (the summer solstice), Bolivians celebrate their winter solstice – marking the beginning of the winter season.  This date also (not coincidentally) marks the beginning of the Aymara New Year.  Aymara are a people whose existence is believed to have predated the Incas by about five hundred years, and whose language and culture still thrive in Bolivia alongside the Spanish-imposed language and religion.  For this special day, tens of thousands gather throughout Bolivia (both in small, rural towns as well as larger, urban areas) to celebrate the rising of the sun, and the start of the New Year.  Naturally, as the Aymaras are a traditionally agrarian culture, the New Year and the celebration revolve around the crops (and thus, logically, the sun).

Pre-Inca maize storage silos where the festival was held.

 We woke well before dawn, with pangs of remembrance of 4:30 AM meditations, and boarded a bus headed to the hills on the outskirts of the city.  The bus was organized by RedTinku, an intercultural organization for young social activists who organizes various activities around the city, our favorite of which was a “sounding board” in the city’s main plaza where people posted critiques and scratched their thoughts on the day’s newspaper headlines.  This poster board was consistently packed, with large groups of people standing together every day debating and discussing their country’s political, cultural, and social issues.  The bus was filled to capacity, with varied ages and socio-economic classes, including youths who had been drinking all night alongside elders who seemed to think 5 AM was a normal hour.  After about 45 minutes, we arrived at a hillside that overlooked the glowing lights of Cochabamba.  It was cold – near freezing.  Luckily, groups of people throughout the hillside had started lighting small fires using the abundant dry grasses, in order to keep themselves warm and create a place for ritual and dance. 

Claire, Begum and I joined a fire (accompanied with some scavenged wood for good graces), and chatted as we warmed our bodies by the circle.  Soon, instruments made their presence known in the dark, drums started booming, and various groups began playing flutes and singing.  Before we knew it, we were in the dance circle, all of us holding hands as we danced and spun, circling around the fire.  The sound of the music, the energy of the group and the fire, and the amazement that people of such strong culture and talent would welcome us into their (proverbial and literal) circle was elating. 

We roamed about, speaking with many people - amazed at the friendliness and openness of the people, and the lack of emphasis on drugs or alcohol among the crowd. What a beautiful celebration – to gather together with friends, family, and strangers to welcome the sun that brings us life and energy.  The people were so connected to the earth, so in tune with what really matters.  
We were lucky just to be there.

Just before the sun rose, we stumbled on an older Bolivian couple sitting near our fire.  The man introduced himself with a bountiful offer of coca leaves* (his two huge hands cupped together).  I thought not of refusing, but only regretted that I did not have my own leaves to trade with him – as is the traditional greeting among friends and strangers in the Aymara and Inca cultures.  He seemed happy nonetheless to share our company, as we chewed the leaves and felt the energy and warmth they provide.

*Many of you may know, but it deserves mention that chewing Coca leaves has almost no similarities to snorting Cocaine.  Although Coca is the leaf used to create Cocaine, the alkaloids in the plant are by concentration less than 1% of that found in the drug. In fact, this association and the idea that those who chew coca leaves are somehow ‘addicts’ or in any way related to Cocaine consumption is merely a smear campaign aimed at undermining Andean cultures throughout South America (all of whom have a strong history of chewing Coca for energy and nutrition). The leaves contain more calcium per gram than milk, and more protein per gram than meat - here's a link on nutrients.

This man and others makes physical offerings of money, herbs, and crystals to the sun

The gentleman explained the significance of the Aymara New Year.  He informed us that when the sun rose, we would all put our hands up – palms out – above our heads to welcome the sun, and take in its energy.  This symbolic gesture is accompanied by prayers and thanks for this beautiful, life-giving source, which will sustain and nourish us for yet another year.  The cold increased as the sunrise became closer, and soon the wisps of clouds above the eastern glacial peaks were dancing with hues of pink and orange. As the light slowly mounted behind the high peaks, we could see it slowly descending the hillsides behind us. The crowd hushed as the light approached, all turned east with their hands in the air, the anticipation mounting.  Then, in a brief spurt of energy, the rays burst over the mountaintops and danced on our finger-tips.  In an almost incomprehensible moment, the sun climbed to the palms, the arms, and then the face.  We all stood in awe as we took in the energy, the warmth, the life. 

After the sun had risen, we prepared to leave.  On our walk towards the exit, we were approached by numerous student groups, radio journalists, and news staff for interviews about our experiences at the festival, why we were there, what we thought of the event, etc.  What we attempted to say (albeit in falty, ineloquent spanish), was the following:

This connection is new to us, but it has always been here.  Every moment of our experience represents the continuity of life.  We stood in this spot, on this hallowed ground, where for centuries the ancestors of these very people stood to welcome the sun.  To welcome a New Year.  To pray that the cycle of life continue, that those infused by this energy be lucky enough to create more life, also to be touched in the same way.  Something about this experience is so fundamental that it must be lived, and yet somehow it had taken us 28 years to really stop and give thanks for something as fundamental as the life-giving source for our planet.  Now we have not only the sun to thank, but the people of this beautiful culture who demonstrated to us this fundamental connection, that we all share.

Our new friends from the celebration, flying the Aymara flag high and proud!