Ruby red tangerine mango.

I knew they were there-I could hear them. Furthermore, with the tangerine sneaking in under the door, it would be a sure thing. Its chilly this morning, and on my chilly mornings I like to take advantage of my blankets and pillow and sleep until at least six thirty. I can tell, since theyre still there, that it couldn’t be more than five, or five thirty.
Five thirty, must be. At five its still ruby red, not quite tangerine. I then realize that this will be my last morning in Chimeo for some time, so I should give into them. Due to the limited nature of my time here in Bolivia, any watermark gets me all nostalgic for a two years that still has more than half to go. Have I made the most of every day here? Did I appreciate everything it had to offer? I look down at my Bolivian made, fuzzy peacock blanket. Alas, the ones outside win, with their innate aleatoric tangerine seduction.

Slide open the mosquito net zipper, a few steps on the cold concrete, yank open the dark slab of Algorrobo and there it is- bam. Not Bam! But bam. Its obscured, but vibrant. Out past the adobe wall, the young citrus trees, the uncontrolled grasses around the bee box, and the proud trees where the forest starts again, the sun, by now more flesh of a less than ripe mango, comes through for the first time in many days. We’re in the heart of what the younger generation knows as Diciembre, the older as Araenti, the time of sowing seed, and to the rest of the Chaco as the rainy season. Its ara ikavi one of the few we’ll see in December, where the earth gets a moment to breathe and dry out. Ive learned to decipher the hour by the color and strength of the sun- ruby red, tangerine, mango, onto unripe lemon and finally the blazing heart of a chirimoya. The bird song is strongest from ruby red until tangerine, and by chirimoya has gone from constant to an intermittent chirp. More learned ornithologists of Chimeo can tell the hour and forecast the weather by this song, a skill, like hearing snakes, that I would love to acquire but doubt I ever will.

Be it an ingenuous attention, the birds have mine this morning. For eight months Ive been listening to this melody, and for all of 2007 minus its first 24 days, the birds in my ear have been entirely natives to Bolivia. Just as the slowly passing morning is marked by their differing songs, so each month of my service has been divided into epochs, novellas, usually with trips to Santa Cruz for book ends. 2007 has been full of the harder chapters- shock, adjustment, shock again, adjust one more time, adoration, disenchantment, and finally, this last month, reconciliation. It is in my nature to throw myself whole-heartedly into whatever work I may be focusing on. I have loved the hood in the chemistry department, doted on term papers, rendez-vous-ed with Lorca, and lost sleep over my English students. This work in Chimeo, however, is distinct from the others- its more than my job, its my life. For that reason, I have to remain a bit detached from it. Its precisely when I become a little too integrated, find myself listening to the chisme and fretting a bit too much about the weather, that I know its time to go. The deep connection one forms as a PCV with their small community is one of the most unique and rewarding aspects of service. This doesn’t mean the sword doesn’t have a second edge. Its also vital to retain a separation, an aspect of professionalism that will propel your projects past all the social muck and through their many phases.

Im in Santa Cruz preparing to head back to the US for Christmas and New Years. 2007 has been a year for adjusting to this new rhythm, while I feel that I know what to expect from 2008. It will see the completion of the bee project, conversational Guarani, bucket showers, jam packed taxis. In many ways it promises to be one of the more predictable years Ive lived, albeit a unique wild Bolivian unpredictability will be one of its innate qualities. I wish for all of you the same tranquil holidays I plan to spend with my family and a delightfully anticipated unpredictable 2008.