Stuff we talk about around here:Bolivia.
I am thirty three years old and have not once seriously considered moving to Bolivia.
It’s weird, because normally I wouldn’t even mention that.
But here we are. Most women do end up moving to Bolivia.
And by my age, you’re pretty much expected to have already moved there or at least you’re supposed to be trying really hard to get there.
To be clear: I have nothing against Bolivia. It seems like a lovely place. Just not one that pulls me. It has never called my name.
And even though I don’t talk about my relationship (or non-relationship) to Bolivia, we will talk about it today.
Because I have words that need to be said about loneliness, power and the extremely problematic word: “choice”.
Loneliness.
There is so much of it when it comes to this hard topic of Bolivia. Or maybe it’s not so much loneliness as isolation.
Every woman has her own experience, her own relationship with moving or not moving to Bolivia. These relationships are often painful, challenging, hard to express.
So you have the women (like my dear friend E.) who are desperate to get into Bolivia. They wait in lines, jump through endless bureaucratic hoops, do what they can.
Sometimes dying inside from the frustration of seeing how other women end up there with such ease.
Then those women — the ones who weren’t even planning Bolivia — they’re isolated too. An extra glass of wine and bam. Welcome to Bolivia.
There are women who aren’t in Bolivia and are happy. Women who aren’t in Bolivia and are unhappy. Women who wanted to move to Bolivia but now wish they hadn’t. Women who didn’t want to move to Bolivia but are now delighted to be there.
And the ones who don’t know if they’re going, but determined to be happy either way.
It’s hard for us to find each other and talk to each other, because each of us is having such a different experience. It gets lonely.
“Choice.”
This word. I have no more patience for it.
I feel frustrated and helpless when people ask me why I’ve “chosen” not to move to Bolivia because I don’t know how to answer.
And I feel uncomfortable when people support me, saying they defend my “choice”, because I need to know support is there even when choosing is irrelevant.
What choice? There has never been a question of choosing or deciding anything.
This concept makes no sense to me.
I didn’t choose not to move to Bolivia.
I didn’t choose not to move to Bolivia any more than I chose not to become obsessed with traditional Armenian embroidery.
I didn’t choose not to move to Bolivia any more than I chose not to take up water polo.
It’s not that anything is wrong with life in Bolivia or Armenian embroidery or water polo.
It’s this:
If it were not for the fact that so many of the women I know are either moving to Bolivia or talking about moving to Bolivia, it never would have occurred to me to even think about it.
The only reason I think about Bolivia is that so many of my friends now live there. And that so many people have opinions about me not being there.
But to say that I chose this life of Not Living in Bolivia? Impossible.
What is choice?
To me, choice generally implies at least some of the following characteristics:
[+ consideration]
[+ giving active thought to something]
[+ both sides have to be appealing or compelling in some way]
[+ caring about the outcome]
[+ weighing the odds]
[+ pros vs cons]
[+ following intuition]
[+ being pulled towards something]
[+ wanting]
It isn’t that I decided against Bolivia. That never came up. It didn’t need to.
There was no decision-making process, because Bolivia exerts no pull over me.
I heart Bolivia.
The food, the culture, the art. The warmth and friendliness. Yay Bolivia.
And I know a lot more about life in Bolivia than I’d ever planned to, now that so many friends and colleagues live there.
To be honest, certain aspects of life there sound pretty distressing to me. But then after they tell you about the awful parts, they gaze at you intently and wish it for you.
So who knows. It must be like when I lived in Tel Aviv for a decade and people thought it had to be awful when actually it was sublime. So I can be pro-Bolivia. And still not feel the desire to ever move there.
Things that are hard about not moving to Bolivia.
The social pressure. The assumptions. The way people ask you when you’re moving to Bolivia and you explain that you aren’t and they say “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
As if you’ve just said you were dying when you are actually expressing completeness.
Losing friends. Some of my friends who have moved to Bolivia are amazing. Like Pam and Naomi and Jen.* You can talk to them about Bolivia but also politics and business and art and creativity and seven thousand other things.
* Other neat people in Bolivia: Jesse and Amber and Jenny the Bloggess!
Other friends are full-time evangelists for Bolivian life. And while I’m happy to spend an hour looking at pictures or admiring the landscape, I can’t do all-Bolivia-all-the-time. I miss the opinionated, curious, hilarious women I used to know.
And the vocabulary of choice. The way it has to be about “decisions”. I don’t want to identify as “Bolivia-less by Choice”. Where are my people who also didn’t choose?
The pull of Bolivia.
I know this mysterious pull that Bolivia exerts on women must exist, because I keep hearing about it.
My biologist friends insist it’s a thing. Maybe.
Maybe a biological thing that not everyone is susceptible to, plus cultural programming and expectations that people are mostly unaware of. I don’t know.
All I know is that I have never felt it.
And that I have girlfriends who are considerably older than me and who also have never felt it.
And that they, like me, heard those hollow words over and over again: “When you’re older, you’ll change your mind about Bolivia.”
Without the pull, there’s nothing.
“Changing your mind” is another one of those choice things. Like decision. As if all I have to do is stop being so determined not to go there.
But I’m not “determined”. I just don’t understand why I should. And I’m pretty sure that if it were about choosing, and I weighed the pros and cons, my non-Bolivia life would win every time in the categories that matter to me.
Of course, if I had a burning desire to be in Bolivia, those other needs wouldn’t matter as much. They would pale in comparison.
And I’d find a way to make it work. Believe me, if I wanted to live in Bolivia, I would move mountains trying to get there.
But since there’s nothing that instills in me a desire to move there, it’s not about choices and choosing. It’s about living my life.
I’m living my life.
And loving my life.
Not because I made a choice. But because I’m here, and here — for me — is good.
And comment zen for today.
I’ve been wanting to write this post for years. And not wanting to at the same time.
Because I know that some people are not really capable of encountering a different way and still understanding that we are both allowed to have our way. Of knowing that my way doesn’t imply that your way is wrong.
I get my way. They gets theirs. Also, the entire culture supports the way that isn’t mine, so trying to tell me I’m wrong in what I know to be true for myself? Not cool.
Anyway. All that to say that this is a hard, sensitive topic. With so much potential for pain, misunderstanding, distortion.
I hope it is clear that I have love in my heart for women who live in a variety of ways. And that I am not picking on Bolivia. All places have their own charm.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We let people have their own experience. And we don’t give advice, unless someone asks for it.
What I don’t want: “I support (or don’t support) your choice”. This is not about choice for me. It’s about mindfulness and trust and many other things, but not choice.
What I’d love: Your stories. What you know about isolation and about completeness.
Twitter: chloewrites
Wow. Just, wow. This is possibly the greatest and most eloquent thing I’ve ever read on the whole Bolivia issue.
There is a woman in Australia, who is currently our caretaker Prime Minister, who was once described by an opponent as being incapable of understanding issues faced by, uh, South America because she is, and I quote, ‘deliberately barren’. Excuse me while I vomit in my hat a little bit at the memory of that soundbite.
I don’t know how I feel about Bolivia. I think I’ll go there someday but I don’t feel especially pulled there. I guess I’ve been assuming that a future me will feel the pull. But maybe she won’t, and maybe that’s alright.
Twitter: badobber
I’m not in Bolivia.
It’s possible that I might move there someday, but right now I’m too busy trying to sort out whether moving to Bolivia is something I really want or if it’s something that I’ve just always been told that I’m supposed to want.
It doesn’t help that nearly all my friends from high school, even girls two or three years my junior, are either in Bolivia already or on their way there. Many of my friends from college are in Bolivia too, and many others have been planning and dreaming about moving to Bolivia since they were little girls.
And I’m not sure if I want to go. Part of me says maybe, but I’m not sure if that’s my voice or the voices of all the women who’ve told me I have to.
I find the thought of Bolivia kind of terrifying. And it’s never seemed to particularly care for me, either. I’ve always been told that it will be different once I actually get there, but I don’t know if I really believe that. Not that I’m anti-Bolivia; my friends who are there seem very happy to be there, and I’m happy for them. I’m just anti-pressure.
And for the record, I don’t feel like there is anything missing from my life without having gone to Bolivia.
Thanks so much for sharing this post, Havi. It’s so refreshing for me to see a woman who isn’t interested in Bolivia, or for that matter, in trying to convince me to go there.
Twitter: claireofRA
For my friends who’ve unintentionally headed to Bolivia, all I’ve ever said was, “You know you have options, right?” in a way that is completely unattached to outcome and is my way of saying whatever you want is fine with me.
At nearly 37, I find I’m just more certain that Bolivia has no pull for me. I do miss my friends though, but truthfully, I started missing them when they got hitched/seriously attached. 30s are a rapidly changing landscape of relationships and I have no Bolivians to play with yours.
.-= claire´s last post … Lakeside Splash =-.
Twitter: martieu
Right on!
(Inquiring minds want to know, though: why Bolivia?)
I’m not in Bolivia. I used to say I’d fight tooth & nail to stay out of Bolivia, but now I am kinda maybe slightly considering that if I ever found myself there accidentally during my life travels, I wouldn’t mind hanging out. But not booking a trip any time soon.
It’s all the expectations around Bolivia that get me. My parents lived in Bolivia for a while, but the climate didn’t suit them at all. Dad got out as soon as he conceivably (ha!) could, which was a bummer for my Mom because she’d wanted to move to Bolivia since she was 11. So I grew up thinking living in Bolivia is teh horrible.
However, the contrarian part of me has often wanted to just move to Bolivia to SHOW THEM! Hah! Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, like they say nowhere at all. But moving to another continent just to piss off some random people never struck me as particularly useful, in a general Maartje-context.
Completeness is another kettle of fish, though. I don’t feel complete often, but I know that my completeness can’t be found in another person, another job or another continent. So I tend towards staying put until I find that completeness, or at least not moving anywhere hoping to find it there.
.-= Maartje´s last post … Why I’m not an honest person – Part 1 =-.
Twitter: shellbelle
ahahaha, I had to read this twice. Durrr. Bolivia is a great country, I’m sure, but I prefer the cold, and the food disagrees with my stomach, and I’m one of those people who would, like, lose the plane ticket, and forget to pay the electric bills, and man the native flora just really makes those allergies flare up like crrrazy.
My parents are really disappointed about my continued insistence that I will never go to Bolivia. I keep telling them my sister not only wants to go but wants to run a daycare there, ffs. But parents are greedy sometimes I think. The waters in Bolivia could be spiced up, by my jeans, I guess? I have some really high-quality jeans that would do great being washed there. I’m sure many of you here all know that line of reasoning.
I don’t feel isolated because three of my best friends are here (read: taking a loving, thoughtful restraining order against Bolivia,) including my partner, and while lots of couples really /love/ the dynamic of living in Bolivia, I feel like our mutual preference not to live there is one of the many things that makes our relationship beautiful and trusting and a partnership that will take us through thick and thin.
But perhaps that’s just a matter of my feeling okay with gravitating toward meaningful relationships with people who all feel the same way about Bolivia? I don’t harbor any ill well toward people who choose it and love it. I guess I see it as a quaint eccentric preference, though. I suppose I’m the quaint one, heh.
But me and my partner? We’re Northerners, dammit. Pass me the parka, please.
.-= mish´s last post … On Grammatical Magic =-.
Twitter: amysnotdeadyet
This. THIS.
I have heard all my life that I would “change my mind” about Bolivia, since I was a teenager declaring that Bolivia held no appeal for me. I am so, so glad to know that there are others for whom it is just never a choice, not an option, nothing that exerts any pull.
Bolivia is great, it’s a totally necessary part of the world, and I’m glad so many people want to go there and love their lives there.
But I’ll stay over here, thanks.
(Also, I have a series of CDs of ’80s music entitled “Living in Oblivion” that will now forever be “Living in Bolivia” in my head, so, uh, thanks?)
.-= Amy Crook´s last post … Torn =-.
I am utterly ambivalent about visiting Bolivia, which can be a hard thing to be. I feel like I’m ‘supposed’ to have strong feelings one way or another.
I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’ve wondered if maybe I would like to go, but it seems that while the place has many charms, the government makes many demands on its women. I can’t balance the loss of freedom with the rewards, it seems like something that wouldn’t work out for me.
Thank you for writing this. It’s a hard subject, especially when you don’t fit into the categories most people think of.
Twitter: lietsjie
I like this a lot. I am in Bolivia and I like it here and is pretty sure I am meant to be here. I didn’t choose to get here. I also didn’t choose not to get here. I just got here and was happy with all the hard and awesome but I know that other places have their hard and awesome too. I am better for being here but I think it has more to do with the way I live now and that is something that I do choose. Bolivia is wonderful but completeness lies elsewhere for me and I think the Bolivians would appreciate it if I kept it like that. I also don’t understand why everybody is expected to come here. It is not as if Bolivia is empty.
I’m not a woman, but people think I am, so I am looking forward to being old enough that they think I should be booking my Bolivia flight. Just so I can say I’m not going. I’m obnoxious like that.
Actually, I’m kind of afraid that no one will ask me about it because they will clearly see that I won’t have anyone to go with me. Perhaps for me, it’ll be the lack of traveling companion that will have people saying, “Oh, I’m sorry.” Fortunately I can still be obnoxious and say, “Really? There’s no need to be. I’m not.”
In a way I suppose I did choose to steer clear of all traveling companions and to steer waaay clear of Bolivia, but the choice was a mere formality. It was never going to be anything different. It was a choice between being myself and not being myself. What kind of choice is that?
But I guess I do think I’m making a choice, even though I read this post, Havi, and kept saying, “Yes, that is me, yes, yes.” The existentialist in me is comfortable when it feels like I am making choices. If no one had ever confronted me with the idea of going to Bolivia I would never have thought of it on my own, so it couldn’t have been a choice, but now that I know about it I am actively, definitively, joyfully choosing to stay right where I am.
Twitter: sarahbairstow
I’m sending you a postcard that says “You’ve Got A Friend in ACountryOtherThanBolivia” !
Yep. Not feeling the pull either, and haven’t really, for as long as I can remember. I’m curious about all aspects of the *trip* to Bolivia, though, because it’s such a crazy, fascinating process. I can listen to people talk about it for about an hour or so (then I get bored and, I’m sorry to admit, feel left out).
It’s so hard to convince people that it’s not necessarily a choice. There are still so many old-fashioned ideas floating around out there. I’ve been told more than once that I’m not really a woman if I don’t feel the urgent need to live in Bolivia. And also that I won’t be a real woman *until* I get there. Strangely enough, I’ve been feeling pretty womanly for a couple decades now. Hmmm.
I wish there were a way to show the world that all of us can do perfectly Bolivian things in our daily life without actually buying a ticket and moving there, and that this kind of Bolivian-ness can be more than enough for us. I’m pretty sure my life can have a very Bolivian quality to it without me having to change continents. If that makes sense.
Looking forward to more stretching of the Bolivia analogy here! Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing this post. I think a bit of isolation just disappeared.
Twitter: emmanuelle_a
Luckily, the people in my life have more or less come to realise that Bolivia is completely irrelevant to me, so the whole “when are you moving there?” is a non-issue for me.
However – losing friends once they relocate there? That is a very real issue, and one that I have been facing a lot more ever since I turned 30.
It’s always the same feeling when a friend announces she’s leaving : while I am very happy for her that she’s found her dream place, I cannot help but feel a tinge of sadness at the thought that I won’t see her as often anymore.
Despite promises to write, those who relocate to Bolivia (or so I have observed) tend to mostly hang out with fellow Bolivians, and get so immersed in Bolivian life that they can only communicate with the folks back home with difficulty.
Obviously someone ought to do something to improve telecommunications between Bolivia and the rest of the world. I’ll admit I am not sure how to do my part, and I’m open to all suggestions.
.-= Emmanuelle Archer´s last post … When you have a project you have to do… =-.
This is the BEST piece on The Bolivian Question I have ever seen.
As someone who did find herself emigrating/immigrating twice, having sworn that I wanted to see the world but always live in the same area, it really clicks. I didn’t choose to live in the US because I had any desire to do so, but because the Love Of My Life was there; now I’m really glad I did it, and he’s really glad he moved back to Blighty with me, though he never planned to do it before.
—
I always assumed I’d go to Bolivia. Indeed, I believed that if I didn’t go there, there would be a massive internal abyss of pain that would destroy me.
Seriously. I wasn’t always sure I wanted to have someone to go there with me, but I knew – I just knew! – that I wanted to go and stay there for the rest of my life.
And then immigration wouldn’t let me in. There I was, in the queue, bag packed, travelling companion holding my hand, and they picked up my passport and said, “NO!” and made me go to the immigration office where big, intimidating people said I would have to jump through loads of really difficult hoops just to have a shot at getting getting the right visa.
And my travelling companion and I did a lot of hard thinking, and I felt like I was dying, and I wept until I honestly felt there were no tears left, and…
… we had a moment of utter clarity, said, “Sod this for a game of soldiers!” and left.
Turns out that Bolivia was one of those places it would have been lovely to live in, but it just wasn’t essential to having a happy life. All that time, I’d thought it was really vital, and it turned out that I was wrong.
Turns out that being a tourist is a really lovely thing. There are Bolivian colonies all over the place – and lots of Bolivians in my family – and because the Bolivians I know are lovely people, I can thoroughly enjoy myself and then go home to my house on my land and sleep in my bed.
All the advantages, and very little hassle. It rocks.
And now, if the immigration office called me and said, “Hey, we screwed up the process – you can come and live here after all!”, I’d smile and say thank you, and turn them down. Because I like where I live.
I don’t need anyone’s pity or sympathy or sense that I’m losing out. If I felt that I was, I’d go to the immigration offices and do all the damn paperwork and get fingerprinted and all the other degrading, dehumanising things that I associate with immigration thanks to dealing with the old US immigration service, and just stick it out until I got to Bolivia. Turns out I really can’t be arsed.
—
And I’ll say this: Even in the midst of my desperation, it always struck me that people who felt they’d the right to tell others that they should/n’t want to emigrate to Bolivia were doing it because they either felt like they had the wrong visa, or because they just didn’t have the maturity to empathise with others, neither of which seem like good things.
Twitter: SneakyEli
I am thirty three also and I have never felt the pull of Bolivia either. Many of my friends have gone there. I even love Bolivia through their experience. Because I love them and whatever makes them happy must be good for them and deserving of love. But some anonymous postcards of Bolivia would not make go: Aw.
I consider the possibility that with time the circumstances around me would change and that the right companion would persuade me to go in Bolivia. But I am not heading there because I want to and I am not definitely searching for a companion to achieve this particular end (and then go on by myself).
Havi, I am delighted by your creative ways.
As for Bolivia. My trip to Bolivia was planned and thought out and getting there was the most intentional process I ever gone through. And still the most unexpected realization came, once there, which indicated that my expectations of the trip were totally messed up.
In all of my thinking of living in Bolivia I was picturing me and how I will feel there. Once there it became clear that how I feel is not as important as how Bolivians feel. It’s Bolivians first down here, me second. A process in my thinking that I was not familiar with before. The fact that at times this feels good is downright freaky.
To me moving to Bolivia became a process of self-discovery and self-rediscovery. It is difficult (most of the time: try to put the shoes on the non-cooperating Bolivian), painful (at times: unhappy Bolivians bite it turns out, and throw shoes at me) and sometimes joyful/happy. Nothing different than what my life was before Bolivia. Except the math of course, now it is two lifes instead of one.
OK I have to admit I am for the first time bamboozled by a topic. What, what, what? Why Bolivia?????? I had no idea this was such a conversation starter nor do I have any real idea why anyone would pack up and move there. But hey, each to their own right. And a good thing too.
Thanks for keeping me out of the dark all
xx
I love this post.
I never wanted to go to Bolivia until one day when I woke up and realised I had to get the next flight out, come hell or high water. I didn’t talk to people about my secret love of Bolivia, because I thought they’d think I was mad. I had hated Bolivia, and now all I wanted to do was get there.
It turns out that Bolivia is lovely but very complicated. It looked great from the travel brochures but living here is a lot more challenging than I expected. I have good friends who don’t live here and I think by now we understand each other. In fact it’s usually the arguments and infighting within Bolivia itself that really tire me out, about how best to live as a Bolivian.
It was never a ‘choice’, though. That’s such a bloodless word. It was a strong desire pulling me here. If I hadn’t felt that pull, I certainly wouldn’t be here now. The place is a mess.
Twitter: misskrin
@killermouse I think you’ll find this is one of Havi’s metaphor mouse situations, and quite a clever one at that. Have a think about the context of the article and the responses and you’ll likely work it out. Further hint: it’s all about women and a life stage that many assume that EVERY woman wants, craves and desires (often with a subconscious suggestion that women are not complete without entering this life stage; that is can be referred to as a “life stage” is implicit enough), what Havi has gentled opened a discussion on relates to the fact that this is not the case for many women.
Now, my story:
I have only ever in my life entertained the thought of moving to Bolivia for maybe a day (cumulative total). It’s never appealed. This is not a decision, it’s not a choice, it’s just a thing, part of who I am. Luckily for me I come from a part of the world which is quite liberal and enough of my female friends feel the same that I’ve never been isolated by this situation. Conversely many of my nearest and dearest have made the decision to move to Bolivia and wonderfully our friendship network is strong and flexible enough to encompass both. In many respects this network operates as an extended family group, a tribe, a community, a village. in this group the classic saying operates: It takes a village to raise a native Bolivian.
Which is important to the rest of my story in relation to moving to Bolivia. What I have always known is that I have a strong desire to care for and be involved in the life of small people who are the result of someone else moving to Bolivia and who may need a female in their life who loves them and tells them that it’s cool and it’s all going to be OK (for instance whose Bolivian sponsors have subsequently separated…).
Please note, this is also not a “choice”, this is the way I am.
I recently had this opportunity. I met, and subsequently lived with a man who had a small person in his life as the result of a previous partner who moved to Bolivia. So, for every other weekend I functioned as someone who had moved to Bolivia, without actually having done so. It was interesting, rewarding, challenging and tiring all at the same time.
Then this man and I split up, and with that I was removed from the relationship with this small person. Interestingly I have little sadness about the end of the relationship with the man – we’re both adults, and adults choose the conditions of their lives and sometimes ending a relationship is part of this. I do however have a deep well of sadness at losing contact with his small person, and I wonder how she is dealing with the whole thing, and I wish that I could give her a big hug, tell her she’s wonderful and that it will all be OK. I’m working out ways of doing this that respect her, and respect the other people in her life who care for her. -it’s a big sovereignty thing for everyone-
I have had friends who have suggested that at some stage (in my 30s) I’d change, and start desiring to move to Bolivia. My response has always been “maybe, and I’ll deal with that if it occurs, but my experience of myself to this point in time is that I have no desire to do so”.
Since this experience I have observed a very small, very fragile desire to maybe, possibly, at some stage consider the vague idea of potentially moving to Bolivia. Which would have been entirely out of the question even a few months ago. I’m sitting with it. Not pushing or examining or questioning, or denying, suppressing or destroying. Like Havi has said, and as I’ve always known, the decision to move or not move to Boliva is not a “choice”, it’s simply whatever is natural and normal for each of us. If at some stage we change outlooks then this is natural and normal as well.
———–
One final point I’d like to bring to this wonderful sharing of this very complex area. It’s not just women who struggle with moving to Boliva (or not) and all this entails.
Many of my male friends either desperately want to be part of the process of moving to Bolivia but either have not found someone to move there with, or the person they are with does not want to move there. For them this is stressful, depressing and sometimes heart-breaking, as they can only get through Bolivian immigration though sponsorship by a female.
Conversely, others of my male friends have been unceremoniously parachuted into Bolivia and will spend the rest of their lives dealing with this situation.
This is not just a conversation for women. It is a conversation for all of us.
(Havi: this is one of the best and most gentle discussions of this issue I’ve ever come across. I will be sharing this with a number of my dearly beloved friends. Thank you for finding the courage and space to write about it)
So I had no interest in Bolivia, in fact never spent anytime around the populace or language and was too busy with figuring out my life to care. Then one day, I started listening to Spanish and trying to find as many Bolivians as I could – I felt the pull. Ali, you’re right it is a mess here. And the infighting is brutal. Once a Bolivian, it isn’t really possible revoke citizenship, but it is possible to reach retirement age – which is where I am. Over time, I’ve come to realize that my particular path (not much better than the word, journey, I know) required that I move to Bolivia in order to learn humility, which I guess I wasn’t going to learn any other way. What being Bolivian means to others – well, only they can tell me. And I say, yay for tourists, ethnographers, and those not interested in Bolivia at all.
Twitter: hamishmacdonald
Maybe it’s ’cause I’m a guy, but I’ve never heard of this “women and Bolivia” thing.
I have total space for you to be awesome without ever going to Bolivia. Not that you need it, ’cause you’ve just declared that freedom for yourself with this post.
Still, anyone who implies we *should* do a particular thing with our lives is just barfing projections and self-fixes on us. And barfing on others is impolite.
P.S. I received my Shiva Nata package yesterday and am so excited about starting that… I haven’t started.
Desire = fear, wash, repeat.
Thanks for all you do.
There is only one reason I’d want to move to Bolivia. And one tiny singular, lovely reason is not enough when I think I’d absolutely despise everything else about living there.
I too, have always, always questioned this urge to move to Bolivia – I don’t see the appeal. And I have always, always been told “Oh, when you’re older you’ll be desperate to move to Boliva… I didn’t want to move to Bolivia when I was your age either. But you will.”
Grrr.
It’s nice to see other people happy not living in Bolivia with me :)
(Also it’s lovely to know your age – I’ve always been curious)
.-= ShimmerGeek´s last post … F Me- Ray Bradbury =-.
Twitter: SecretWormy
At fifteen I decided that Bolivia was not an option for me. It was a definite choice and a clear decision for me. I decided on an alternative immigratory route, if and only if, it is ever an option.
And I have dealt with the “You’ll change your mind one day” and the “you’ll meet a travel partner who will make you want to go to Bolivia” and the “it’s enough to make anyone go to Bolivia” comments when faced with a particularly adorable part of the landscape etc etc and still I know that I’ve make the right decision for ME.
Should an appropriate travel partner show their face I’m figuring that rather than trying to change my mind, they will be of the same mind and not that interested in Bolivia, since they’re the right partner for me and trying to change one of my most fundamental choices isn’t really what a travel partner for me is all about.
I am happy not being in Bolivia, with or without a travelling companion. I can be a tourist and that is perfect and I’ll say this to my fifteen year old self – she makes good choices for me.
Twitter: spiralsongkat
It’s funny — I’ve lived here for well over a decade now, yet there are still times when I look up in astonishment and think, Holy cats, I’m in Bolivia. How did that happen?!
I do love it here. I find Bolivia breathtakingly beautiful. At the same time, I never forget my homeland. The country of my birth has shaped me, has made me the person I am today. I always knew that I would want to retain dual citizenship. In some ways it’s a challenge, being bi-cultural — but really, it’s just me, being who I am.
In such a wide, wonderful world, with so many countries to visit and inhabit, surely there must be plenty of room for all of us to be who we truly are.
.-= Kathleen Avins´s last post … Thirty-one days later- and I’m still here… =-.
All my friends packed up and moved to Bolivia en masse. Maybe not all, but it feels that way the last couple of years (I’m 32).
It’s really not something that has ever interested me, I haven’t chosen anything, I’m just living my little life my own little way.
If I feel the pull one day, I *may* choose to go. But not because my friends have browbeaten me into joining the Bolivia club, or my parents think I ought to or any other shoulds.
.-= MrsA2B´s last post … After the rain… =-.
Twitter: maryanndevine
Thanks for this, sweetie, for sharing something you’ve been wanting to say for years, and for framing it in a way that no one else does.
I’ve never felt the pull toward Bolivia either, not at all. I used to explain by saying that I’ve never felt moved to become an astronaut, either.
It actually feels like something I have no choice about, like being 5 foot three.
I’m lucky, though, in that it hardly ever comes up. Maybe people think I’d be a terrible Bolivian, so they never mention it.
I’ve never been pressured to move to Bolivia by family (though my boss once remarked ‘EVERYONE should relocate there.’ Which was weird). Most of my friends actually HAVEN’T moved there, though some really, really want to.
It comes up so rarely that I’m taken aback when someone actually does bring it up.
So this is just to say that you’re not alone in not choosing.
xo
Twitter: curiousHeidiHi
This post. This. This freaking post. Thank you. At long last. I think I’ve been waiting to read this for years.
And too, Ali? I love how you put this: “It was never a ‘choice’, though. That’s such a bloodless word.”
.-= Heidi Fischbach (@curiousHeidiHi)´s last post … Wherein Hot ‘n’ Steamy Monday Momma pays me a visit And writes a guest post =-.
Twitter: ChristinaEHW
I have never wanted to move to Bolivia, and it has never been a big agonizing decision for me either. I just don’t want to go there.
I wish people who do a happy trip and hope they love living there, but I’m quite glad to stay here (no matter how much they think we should be neighbours). I mean, I don’t even like the weather there, and the landscape is okay I guess, but there are other countries that are way more to my taste.
My gentleman friend has arranged things so he can’t get a visa to get into Bolivia, and we’re both quite happy about that.
I’ve not moved to Bolivia. I’ve never had the desire to move to Bolivia. I’m pretty sure my passport is not valid for Bolivia. And I’m happy about that. I’ll enjoy it via photos. And I’ll watch the joy on the faces of my friends who live there.
This is the first time — which is surprising in itself, since I’m pretty far down the life road — that I’ve heard this topic articulated in just this way: about it not being a matter of “choice.” I’ve gotten just a bit prickly when I’ve heard the (well-meant) phrase from others about supporting my “choice.” “I don’t need your support,” I want to say. “I haven’t made any choices. I haven’t lost or gained anything; I haven’t agonized and settled. This is simply how my life IS, complete. This is the way it’s supposed to be.”
So often, women who don’t go to Bolivia are seen either as people to be pitied or people to be admired. I’m neither.
Twitter: squarePegKaren
Ohmyword! I would never have thought much about this if you hadn’t brought it up, Havi. And i NEVER would’ve thought of wrapping a topic like this around Bolivia – lol!
My experience (long ago – because I’m 55) seems similar to what you wrote. I didn’t give a lot of thought to Bolivia when I was younger. I wanted to go to law school and be a female F.Lee Bailey – something I couldn’t imagine happening if I lived in Bolivia.
But really, I just didn’t give it a lot of thought. And was NOT thrilled with friends who couldn’t wait to get there (it seemed lame, the language bored/gagged me, and I wasn’t in the place then of acceptance that there are lots of ways to be/do).
I didn’t feel lonely in my lack of Bolivia-thrilledness (tho I did shake my head a lot, especially when seemingly brilliant friends would launch into Bolivia-speak, which I didn’t know/or care to know), it just seemed like men were more interesting to talk to – WAY less likely to go Bolivia on me.
I DID feel isolated when I moved to Bolivia though (not to mention surprised – but that’s another story) because, though I felt like Mother Earth – and loved BEing a Bolivian – I still shook my head and gagged when people did the Bolivia-speak thing (and they’re so much more likely to do that when you’re in the country).
And being Bolivian didn’t give me a sense of completeness – probably quite the opposite. From this side of things I can say I’m glad I lived in Bolivia, though I think it’s obviously not my country-of-origin. And I totally *get* not feeling like it’s a choice — not being pulled by it.
.-= Square-Peg Karen´s last post … Interview with Pajama-wearing Motivational Speaker- Patty K =-.
Twitter: kyliewriteshere
Oh. So beautiful.
It was always very clear to me that I wouldn’t go to Bolivia. It never once seemed like something there would be any point in. Then I met my girlfriend, and found out that going to Bolivia was something really important to her. Kind of like learning and reading and traveling other places in the world is important to me. And seeing these things through each other’s eyes, both of us have learned why these things are appealing. So now she learns and reads and travels with me, and I have no doubt that we’ll make the trip to Bolivia someday. This was an entirely unexpected turn of events for me.
.-= Kylie´s last post … i recognize you =-.
Thank u Havi. Thank u for having the courage to write about this … specially in such an awesome and respectful way. And thanks to all the comment posters too …. I’m not feeling lonely now … love to u all xxx
I’m 32, and I’ve never been particularly interested in Bolivia (or Bolivians) either. So many of my friends have moved there, and I think it’s rude to be totally disinterested in friends’ lives whether they’re into Bolivians or basket-weaving… so I do end up hanging out with a few Bolivians from time to time, and it’s not really so terrible. But it’s really not my thing at all.
Most of the people I know have stopped asking me when I’m going to move to Bolivia. This is good, because I got tired of smiling and saying “not yet” to people I didn’t want to insult, while thinking “When are you going to get a Rottweiler? What’s that, you don’t like big drooly dogs? Well, I don’t like Bolivia.”
It can be lonely, here. Sure, friends visit from Bolivia, but it’s really not the same as when we lived in the same town together.
My travel agent told me that it might not have seemed like much of a choice when I was younger, but now that I’m in my 30s I have to make an actual decision about whether or not to move to Bolivia. I don’t get it. I’ve never wanted to move there before, so why do I have to put my foot down about it now? Why can’t I just keep on not moving there?
.-= Pirate´s last post … In Which the Pirate’s Knitting is Stalled =-.
Twitter: annaline_39
I ended up on the wrong flight and found myself in Bolivia, but I never quite found the language. I never felt like the other Bolivians and I definitely interacted with my llamas in a different way than most Bolivians do. I see other women just starting their sojourn in Bolivia and I just feel relief that soon I will be able to fully re-patriate.
.-= Andi´s last post … The Sketchbook Project- Week Two =-.
Twitter: meowvt
I don’t live in Bolivia – never had the desire to go (MUCH to my Mother’s dismay). We didn’t speak much for awhile because she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t excitedly planning my own Bolivian adventure.
I enjoy visiting Bolivians and observing other people’s Bolivian experiences, but my path in life went in a different direction. I’m sure many questions have been asked about that when I wasn’t around.
Twitter: LoJo100
I have no plans to go to Bolivia, and don’t see it as a choice. It is just a fact. I’m in my mid thirties and have never had the urge to travel there and don’t see that changing.
What’s strange is that I get the most pressure to go to Bolivia from people who don’t know me. Who meet me in a line at the store or at a party. I wish I handled these situations better. I think, moving forward, I will tell these people to read this post. It states how I feel better than I’ve been able to articulate when under pressure.
THANK YOU.
[...] I split my efforts so I could end up with that consolation “prize” of a mortgage and a trip to Bolivia I totally don’t want. Fuck pretending to be Type A. Fuck people telling me I must be Type B instead. I’m gonna go [...]
Twitter: clover
It looks like a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. It’s just not ever something I planned to do.
Bolivians, on the other hand, can be totally cool. Especially during World Cup. And it’s fun to do the little immersion weekends sometimes, but those have never made me want to move there. It seems like two separate issues to me.
Everyone wants to talk to me about Bolivia these days because I’m 28 and just got remarried. But my husband knew I wasn’t into the Bolivian thing, and eventually everyone else will get tired of asking when we’re going to go.
Strangely, it seems like only the people who really don’t like it there are asking when we’re moving… the ones that really enjoy it just show us their travel journals sometimes and call it a day.
.-= Shannon´s last post … Fire in the Skies audio =-.
I was raised in a desert, which while beautiful in its own exceedingly harsh way, was rather too hard and barren for a little one. So I headed for Bolivia because I wanted to create a different landscape for me and mine.
I have been living in Bolivia for five years now and it is nothing like the Bolivia of my dreams… It is far far more beautiful than I had ever imagined in ways that I didn’t even know how to dream before I lived here.
And, its landscape is far, far more harsh and desolate than the landscape I grew up in, which shocks and frightens me still.
What strikes me now is that there are so many different Bolivias. And so many different ways to get to those different Bolivias. Some look like traditional Bolivians. Some do not. But if we create, we live in a Bolivia.
My only wish is that the different Bolivians would all be able to find more love for themselves to fill the space we would find if we could just jettison the desire for everyone to want to live in our Bolivia.
At first I thought this must be a metaphor for something…but apparently not.
Why Bolivia? Just seems kind of random. Like people really just come up to you and ask are you moving to Boliva? It seems like all the commenters know about this “pull” too (even if they don’t necessarily feel it themselves) but I am completely puzzled. Is it a west coast thing maybe?
I HATE people telling me they’re sorry for me. Now people ask me where I live and I tell them and they say “oh, I’m sorry.” Well I’m NOT! I actually kind of like where I live so you should be happy for me! And even if it wouldn’t be my first choice, I’d rather make the most of it instead of walking around feeling sorry for myself so please don’t help me to do that.
I moved to Bolivia a little more than a year ago. I jumped in feet first, completely absorbing myself in the language and culture, even taking on a new, traditional Bolivian name. While I don’t regret moving to Bolivia and am happy living there, there was a loneliness that came with completely absorbing myself in its traditional lifestyle because it left me feeling less and less like myself.
At first I thought Bolivia was the problem, but it wasn’t. I was. It was when I focused on being there for myself and bringing the complicated, curious person I was before into my little corner of Bolivia that I started to feel more complete and therefor also found a happiness that no visa in my passport could provide.
C and I agreed we’re not heading for Bolivia until we’ve visited a bunch of other countries, first. He does seem pretty focused on when other people we know are heading for Bolivia, so I tease him, “I know you’re not ready to be a resident, but I think you’re desperate to be a tourist!” After all, tourists get to bring noisy, shiny gifts from home to their resident friends and family :)
A friend of ours and his wife moved to Bolivia recently. He called the other day, and while it’s nice to hear how wonderful Bolivia is, the conversation got pretty one-sided. Apparently, the food in Bolivia is excellent, though it occasionally gives him indigestion. I had nothing to say, since I’ve never tried it. How’s the food back home? Well, Pizza still tastes like pizza, and burgers still taste like burgers, and he knows what they taste like and they haven’t changed and if he really wanted to, there are a few burger and pizza joints in Bolivia (which aren’t quite the same, but they’re close enough if you have a craving), and he just hasn’t been in the mood for those kinds of food lately, anyway. So there’s just not much I can say about pizza and burgers that he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t really care about the little bit I can say, anyway.
.-= Laura G´s last post … In which I wonder how you found me =-.
This post — and its accompanying comments — is both deeply moving and hilarious. I love the puzzlement, how it can be read in more than one way (as can the comments!). It feels like literature because of the mix of confusion and agreement it sparks, how confounding yet how crystal clear it is. I hope it gets published somewhere someday, since it’s a wonderful new take on an age-old topic.
PS: I love how this piece is in some ways akin to Betty Friedan’s “The Problem that Has No Name” in The Feminine Mystique (http://www.h-net.org/~hst203/documents/friedan1.html). Did you do Metaphor Mousing to come up with the “name?”
PPS: For the record, I live vicariously through those living in Bolivia, but for now, I’m blissfully staying put.
Totally.
The only person who has cared that Bolivia has no pull over me is my sister, who turned to me wide-eyed and said “But I never wanted to go to Bolivia either and now look at me.” I love her little Bolivians like the devil, but still no pull towards Bolivia.
I have lots of friends who live outside Bolivia and we are quite happy. Sometimes my friends who live in Bolivia get all excited about having learned to speak Bolivian and don’t want to speak any other language so we have some difficulty communicating, but I think they are quite happy, too.
I am also very very glad that I am not trying to get to Bolivia and finding myself unable. I imagine that pain must be terrible.
Twitter: Emily_Helms
I’ve never really given much thought to moving to Bolivia, other than the fact that I’ve known, from a fairly young age, that I wouldn’t be moving there. Havi, this post is brilliant. Until now, I’ve framed this as a choice, as in, “I’m not a Bolivian by choice.” But it’s not really a choice, is it, unless you feel pulled toward Bolivia?
Sometimes I worry that my husband will want to move to Bolivia. Although he has never shown any outward desire to do so, in many ways, every other aspect of his personality seems to indicate that he would naturally immigrate to Bolivia over the course of time, if it weren’t for me. Unlike me, he speaks fluent Spanish, and doesn’t seem to mind the garishly loud (to me) music and culture of Bolivia. When he sees a llama, he talks to it and feeds it treats. If a llama comes up to me, I hide behind him until it goes away. When I ask him if he thinks he’ll change his mind, he simply says, “If I wanted to move to Bolivia, I wouldn’t have married you.”
I very happily live in Peru. Some people seem to think that I equate Peru with Bolivia, but I don’t. They’re different countries. You can be a citizen of both, or neither. The residents of Peru are small and furry. Like the llamas of Bolivia, they are incredibly loving, yet unlike the llamas, they can entertain themselves perfectly well without me. I can pop back to the United States from time to time knowing that, as long as I’ve left food and water out for the Peruvian creatures, they’ll be just fine. The best thing about Peruvian culture is that you don’t have to justify yourself — Peruvians accept and love you just as you are.
I’m a happy ambassador for Peru, but I realize that not everyone would be happy living there. Some people would be so unhappy living in Peru that they would make life unpleasant for any native Peruvians who might fall under their care. In the same vein, I wish that some of the overly zealous Bolivian ambassadors in my life would realize that not everyone is meant to move to Bolivia.
Twitter: LaShaeDorsey
I always wanted and enjoyed travel and yet I always, always, always took the most outrageous travel insurance to make sure I avoided Bolivia, even on unexpected layovers. I never really understood why and yet I didn’t fight it. If I wanted to travel, travel insurance must always be in place. If my travel companion didn’t want the insurance, we didn’t travel together. Simple as that. I traveled alone a lot and had loads of fun.
Then one night, I was shown Bolivia in a dream. Just this one time, I didn’t buy travel insurance and I wound up headed to Bolivia.
It wasn’t until my trip had embarked that I understood why I had always been so adamant about travel insurance, not because it isn’t a lovely trip. Or because the Bolivians and expats there aren’t wonderful but because when Bolivia’s electro-magnetic field and my electro-magnetic fields combine, there is complete shut down.
I didn’t know this about myself. Suffice it to say my trip there was cut short by necessity. And all other trips there must be avoided. Obviously there was something about the trip I needed to explore (and boy am I exploring it, still… 15 years later).
That’s when I understood. I would not survive the trip to Bolivia and thus I could certainly never live in Bolivia and Bolivia couldn’t live in me.
Bolivia was and continues to be something that I must avoid, if I want to keep breathing. I grieved that for a while only because I saw the itinerary and embarked on the journey. Had I continued my avoidance, I would have also missed a needed change, that truly has awakened the complete me.
I’m all for the people who want to travel there. I’m all for the people who don’t. I’m all for the people who don’t know anything about Bolivia and don’t want to know or admit they don’t, didn’t or even want to go there. I’m all for the people who wind up there by accident. We each live where we live, to learn what we need to learn – if we’re willing to awaken to it.
I respect that.
Twitter: katyalysander
I love your metaphors. So much. You are complete no matter what stamps are in your passport.
Twitter: yogiconomist
When I was young, I thought I would move to Bolivia. That’s what girls in North Dakota grow up to do. Not so much a choice, simply what your role is.
Then I moved out west and got a Ph.D. in economics. I kind of forgot about ever wanting to move to Bolivia. I probably never actually wanted to move there in the first place.
I guess maybe I am lucky. The women in my professional circles rarely talk about anyone moving to Bolivia. It is a non-issue. If you move there, great. If not, great.
Plus, my sister has been to Bolivia 2 times and is working on her third trip. This keeps my parents happy and not asking me when I’ll be moving there :)
.-= Katie Hart´s last post … A Love Letter to the New School Year =-.
Twitter: LaShaeDorsey
Oops forgot to mark the check box to hear more about other’s Bolivian adventures and non-adventures alike.
Twitter: PaceSmith
Moving to Bolivia would have never occurred to me either. I saw all my friends heading that way and I simply didn’t get it.
When I transitioned to female, I felt like something was wrong with me, because I didn’t magickally acquire that Bolivian Pull that everyone talks about. I felt like I wasn’t a “real woman” since I didn’t feel the Bolivian Pull.
When I married Kyeli, I married into some Bolivian heritage, but it was different because I got to skip over all the “We’re moving to Bolivia!” and all the “We’re Bolivia noobs!” hoopla. But she wanted to move back. She and I had some epic arguments about what country to live in.
One day, I chose to let my Bolivian visa lapse. I could never go there again, at least not in the same way. It was hard for me, because I was afraid I might change my mind… although the fact that I might change my mind would have never occurred to me except for the fact that everyone else around me was all “Viva Bolivia!”
Then Kyeli’s Bolivian visa was revoked by the Bolivian government for no apparent reason. Even though she had made peace with not moving to Bolivia, she had still wanted to visit, and now she can no longer even enter the country. She felt betrayed and unfairly treated. Maybe she’ll end up tutoring Bolivian expats who live in the States. Who knows?
I don’t really have an ending to this story, so I’ll just say that “Bolivia” looks really weird after reading it and typing it dozens of times.
.-= Pace Smith´s last post … We’d like to get to know you better =-.
Twitter: AmnaAhmad
Can I put in a biologist’s $.02?
Biology is tricky to use as a reason in this. Because even if you can demonstrate incontrovertibly that it’s a Thing, this does not show that it’s a Thing for every member of a population or species.
Nature makes (and sustains) variation within species and populations.
Even if there is a biological component to the desire to become Bolivian, this doesn’t necessarily make it a biological thing for every individual. Which means that there are many different ecological/societal niches for our species to fill, and no danger of us going extinct if some people don’t go to Bolivia.
.-= Amna´s last post … What I talk about when I talk about writing =-.
Twitter: copylicious
The thing so many people who ask about moving to Bolivia don’t realize is that we were all born and raised in Bolivia. And many of us who never move back still carry Bolivia with us. Sometimes I feel like it’s easier for me to be a true Bolivian without actually living there. I can evoke more of the qualities of Bolivia living here in freedom than some of the people who have moved back. I don’t know whether I’ll ever move back, but I’m grateful to have lived there once. If I’d somehow managed to be born in the United States, I’m sure I’d be quite dull.
.-= Kelly´s last post … Continuums I love continuums Some of my best epiphanies are continuums =-.
Twitter: Nelled
I’m not from Bolivia and I’m not sure yet whether I want to be, but I have a question. Isn’t the choice to use contraception (sorry for not using an analogy, but I wanted to make sure my question was clear) essentially the same as the choice NOT to go to Bolivia? If this is the case, I’ve had the choice put to me many times and I’ve chosen not to go to Bolivia. Obviously this doesn’t stop me from choosing to go later on, but I think this concept should be considered. Thoughts?
Twitter: scrapsoflife
I get the Bolivia question a lot when I meet new people and never could understand the ‘aw, I’m sorry’ look they gave me when I said I didn’t live there. I’d explain to them why it was best I hadn’t gone to Bolivia but they didn’t really seem to get it.
I have a lot of friends in Bolivia. Some are totally drinking the Bolivian kool-aid and there’s just no relating if you’re not on their street. Others, thankfully, maintain a sort of dual-citizenship and haven’t lost that spark that they had before Bolivia.
Even online, it’s tough to find ladies that aren’t already in Bolivia, moving there as I type or trying to get their visa approved.
And it’s very lonely.
At the same time, all these other ladies not living in Bolivia are giving me hope :)
.-= Scraps´s last post … Paper Petals- Part 1 =-.
Twitter: intuitivebridge
My mom went to Bolivia and all I got was this lousy childhood. – possible t-shirt slogan
Okay, so I did the “I’m never going to get on the wrong plane to Bolivia, let’s have some more beer.” and then there I was in Bolivia, with all the Bolivians who really really wanted to be there and wanted to talk about it, and wanted to live their entire lives from the context of Bolivarianism. And I was 22 and unhappily married and then divorced and then some guy I really respected said, “You’ll never find another man to love you because you went to Bolivia and nobody likes a package deal.” and I believed him and it broke my heart.
So, my first trip to Bolivia was not pleasant, though I do like what I brought home with me, this lovely boy who turns 20 next week and likes meditation and art.
My second trip to Bolivia, somebody begged me to take. And I did. And it was better. And I like what I brought home that time too, a lovely boy who is 12 and makes me laugh everyday and still hugs me, though not in public.
The thing about Bolivia is that you don’t have to stay there. It’s not a lifetime sentence. You don’t have to live through the lens of Bolivia. You aren’t ever just a transplanted Bolivian. You are someone who happened to visit there, and may have some experiences to talk about, but it’s not your everything. It can’t be your everything, because some day the things you love about Bolivia are going to go on without you. It’s natural.
I like your comment about the pull. Just because you didn’t get the pull doesn’t mean somethings wrong with you. I didn’t get the pull. I got the whoops accident and the “please please please get on this plane”, and it worked out for me.
People who think that Bolivia is the only way or the best way really need to visit Italy.
Twitter: JackOutLoud
(I’ve been looking at this trying to work out if Boliia is gender-specific. If it is, forgive me, if it’s the more general aspect, then I’m OK.)
I spent my early years forced to live in Bolivia. Or at least, be a tourist. And I hated every single minute of it. It was hell. I escaped the second I could. And because I wasn’t a real Bolivian, I had to pay taxes but I couldn’t get any advice or anything.
I don’t know – maybe if I’d been left alone, and allowed to consider moving there when I was older, that would be different. But because of my experiences it took me a long time to learn that no, Boliva does not equal hell on earth, and other people aren’t brainwashed if they announce they want to move there. It’s just not somewhere I ever want to set foot near. And that’s OK. I even knit for Bolivian friends.
Now I just need to work out how to get people to stop telling me I’d make a great Bolivian.
The only reason I’d ever want to go to Bolivia is so I could meet more people like me, so there would be more people in the world who don’t want to go to Bolivia.
But that’s slightly impossible.
.-= ShimmerGeek´s last post … F Me- Ray Bradbury =-.
Twitter: dawnmarissa
I’ve thought about moving to Bolivia, but I can’t imagine living there permanently. I’ve offered to help move friends to Bolivia who are having a hard time getting there on their own. I think it would be interesting and powerful and exciting to move to Bolivia for a year or two on a temporary visa, discover the language, the customs, the people and how I interact with myself and others in this so-sought-after land of Bolivia. But when my visa expires, I’ll be more than ready to leave my friends with our precious Bolivia, to come back home or head on to Bali or Belize.
.-= Dawn Haney´s last post … A Meditation on Panic =-.
Twitter: taraswiger
Ah!
We had this conversation in the car in the parking lot of the Asheville airport, remember?
But until you put it in terms of Bolivia, I didn’t really *get* it.
I mean, I got that you didn’t feel anything towards Bolivia (and of course I was cool with that), but it still felt like a CHOICE. Like, you’d consciously decided “I will not move to Bolivia”.
It’s the Usual Error, because I’ve felt such a Bolivia-is-my-homeland vibe that when you said “it’s not a CHOICE”, I was all, huh?
But now I get it! Yay!
Also? Thank you SO much for giving me a resource to point to (and vocabulary to use) when the conversation (unavoidably) comes up.
.-= Tara´s last post … Good Shtuff- Love Edition =-.
Twitter: llamaren
For me, it was a choice I didn’t expect to have. I ended up with tickets and a passport unexpectedly, and it took a good couple weeks of staring at my itinerary, at the map, and at me, for me to figure out what the hell I was doing.
In the end, I decided that the rest of the world held more interest for me. And looking at what followed, how I felt, the overwhelming panic that struck me, it seems to me that I was on the same flight at LaShea. I cried for a while. I felt horrible that I couldn’t be a “real woman” and that my husband might leave me for someone who wasn’t “defective”.
A decade later, I don’t regret it. (And I’m still married.) I couldn’t be the person I am today without the path I’ve traveled, and like the song says:
“I can’t forget
That I’m not ashamed
To be the person that I am today.”
Love.
I sincerely believe that the world NEEDS people who either never thought about moving to Bolivia or who fancied going but couldn’t get a settlement visa.
I mean, the world NEEDS Bolivian settlers, ex-pats, and contract workers, too.
But the thing is that Bolivians themselves need other countries to travel to with friendly natives who will nourish their curiosity about the wider world. Because it’s not always the people back home we listen to, is it? I thought I knew a lot about America from the enormous amount of American films, tv, and music I was exposed to; when I got there, I realised it was a bigger Thing than I’d thought it was, and a decade later, I’d learned a lot more again.
I think that Nature likes a goodly mix in any ecology, and we non-Bolivians serve a valuable purpose in keeping the ecology healthy, supporting Bolivian settlers, nurturing Bolivians, and creating diverse ecosystems outside of Bolivia which are enriching and enriched by international contact.
Twitter: thorinmesser
So once again you have said what is in my head in a way I don’t think I could have managed to express it. Too clear and perfect and shining. I too have never had any interest in Bolivia but get frustrated that it seems to make me an object of pity for my friends and family who have moved to Bolivia. I get all the Bolivia I need vicariously. Sometimes too much. And like New York, New York, I can recognize a place I don’t want to live.
Twitter: ToriDeaux
Once upon a time, I was crying to a short-term traveling partner how isolated I felt by the circumstances of my life. He told me, in a tender voice, that I’d chosen the isolation, chosen this view of myself, and that I could choose differently. Gah!
I was so offended. And hurt. That assumption that I could just choose differently? That’s part of what made me feel so isolated. So very little about my life feels like a choice – those differences in identification and circumstance and world view? They spring from the reality that *I am inexplicably different* in many ways that don’t really have labels.
I didn’t *choose* the elements of my life that isolate me… I simply *identified* them, and fit my life around them. And I was hurt that someone thought I should (and could) just change the identification labels and I’d fit in.
As for the Bolivia question, specifically? Yeah. It’s more a lack-of-decision than an actual decision. The risk of air travel seems a bit high these days, and I find it’s just not that big of a deal. And yet, friends and family still say “You could always take a boat. Or go by camel” and then there seems to be a lot of concern about who will eventually inherit the family property in Bolivia. I don’t get it.
But my long time travel-partner has become the Bolivian Corporal Klinger. “She’s allergic to Bolivian food; I’m afraid of planes; I had the mumps and cant get a Visa; my great grandmother was frightened by a Bolivian. Turned her hair stark white!” It’s often funny, but a bit bizarre that being asked such a personal question is so frequent that it’s become an exercise in creativity.
Twitter: jesseblayne
I’m an older expat to Bolivia. My two charges picked me to be their guide when I was 36 and then 40. Prior to their finding me, I steered clear of anything having to do with Bolivia. In fact, I never babysat other people’s Bolivians, nor could I say the whole word, “Bolllivvvv…. ugh.”
One day I woke up and decided I would like to go to Bolivia. I applied for a passport, and within two weeks I had started my nine-month voyage to this new, foreign, scary, smelly, sweet country. The whole nine months I was convinced that I shouldn’t have given up my old address. I was afraid I’d hurt the Bolivians, or drown them, or forget to feed them or be bored by them or lose them.
There are days when I set the timer for a 20 minute exit from Bolivia. But 98 percent of the time, I look at the Bolivians who invited me to house them, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have been chosen by them.
I don’t feel the need to talk “Bolivian” all the time. Bolivia is a rich, large part of my home, but it isn’t the only part.
Twitter: NaomiNiles
Oh girl, I totally understand.
I don’t want to go to Bolivia until I’m good and ready. I figure if I do it, it better be right. Some people say you’re never really ready. I don’t care.
Why all the rush? I don’t get it. It’s like, you’re — age and now you MUST move to Bolivia. Why?
Thank you for sharing this very personal thing, Havi. I think these things need talking about. Just another reason I think you are the cat’s meow. :)
.-= Naomi Niles´s last post … Lacking conversions Start with the basics =-.
Twitter: snakecharmers
Oh, those who got to Bolivia so painlessly–sigh. Wish I were one of those, but no. And Bolivia–it’ll be there whether I am or not.
Twitter: havi
So many beautiful, thoughtful, intriguing things here. I am kind of in awe.
[For people who are confused, apologies! I kind of live in metaphor-land (we have our own superhero -- Metaphor Mouse!). And I find it easier to talk about difficult things in metaphor.
So I am not actually considering or not considering moving to Bolivia in any literal sense, even though I'm sure it is beautiful.
I'm referencing the pain, confusion and identity crises that show up in the lives of women (and men!) at a certain age, when societal pressure to procreate or defend yourself for not being there gets louder and more forceful. Hope that makes sense!]
@Jack – absolutely. I did not even slightly mean to leave men out of this one. We all have to deal with it.
Obviously I’m more aware of the woman side of things, what with being one, and with total strangers offering opinions and speculating on the contents or non-contents of my uterus on a nearly daily basis. But men totally deal with these issues all the time as well.
All that to say: you are welcome here! And so are all kinds of male experiences in various forms.
[I guess I should add to that in general that this is a happily genderqueer-friendly space so whoever is reading, however you identify, it's all good by us.]
Other than that: just appreciating the wisdom and permission I see here. So much love.
Twitter: neatlynoted
As a woman in the queer community, I definitely feel pressure to move to Bolivia so that I can be one of the queer Bolivians who say: “We can do it, too! Look! We’re good citizens of Bolivia. Count us upstanding Bolivians as evidence that you should repeal your stupid immigration laws.”
Too bad I’ve never wanted to move to Bolivia.
Believe me, if I wanted to live in Bolivia, I would move mountains trying to get there.
Yep. When I want to go somewhere, I make a path and go there. I’m proud of that. I do it every day. If Bolivia were on my priority list, I would start planning my trip yesterday.
But Bolivia? Not on my radar. Like you, I’m not ambivalent, torn, or debating between a choice to move to Bolivia and a choice not to move there. Instead, I’m choosing to go to lots of places — the places I particularly want to be — and Bolivia’s never been on that list.
And people offering pity, or knowing advice, or asking me to defend my ‘choice’? I don’t get what they’re after. I don’t feel like I need to defend my state of not making plans to move to Bolivia (despite Bolivia being a popular destination) any more than I need to defend the state of being female, or being queer, or being in love with locally-grown food and craft beer, or having a really, really well-organized sock drawer. Why do I like my sock drawer organized by fiber type, length and color? I was just born liking it that way. Some of us are.
Twitter: persnicket
This is the sanest, wisest meditation on the issue I’ve read. Thank you so much for writing it. I do believe that this particular brand of ex-patriate life is too often understood as a choice, but only because there are various choices that take place along the journey there (or not to there). It’s easy to confuse the two and from that confusion there is so much pain, as you point out. I believe there is Bolivia The Identity and then there is Bolivia The Journey, you know? Some people are Bolivian without ever having gone there.
I am a person who grew up believing I would never, ever go to Bolivia, dear god please no, flying is scary and the logistics freak me out. My story in that regard has been about learning to accept my desire for Bolivia; learning more about my essential self, and believing in her capabilities. But even if I think back to my younger years, there was always a curiosity about Bolivia hovering around the edges. I just wasn’t ready to accept it. Sometimes I hope I can find (without yammering on and on about my adopted land!) others who might be afraid too, and who need reassurance. It was a dark time when I was led to believe that 1) I was not capable of going to Bolivia and 2) Everyone else who went had no problems at all. It is scary to be alone with those thoughts.
I now know and believe there are others like me; I hope for you that you find many, many more others to connect with; and I hope the label of choice can slowly slip away for those who do not identify with it. Bolivia deserves to be understood in the way we now understand sexual attraction: no one chooses one way or the other. Accidents happen, yes, and fears get in the way, but the notion of choice is all about the Journey, not the Identity.
Sending all my love from Bolivia and kisses from the natives! Thank you for promoting a better world of understanding for everyone, on all sides.
.-= Jesse´s last post … Not hearing my own message- a Blah turns into an A-ha =-.
Twitter: elizabethhalt
I didn’t make a choice either. It just is. Were it not for expectations and such, the idea of moving to Bolivia would never even have occurred to me. I must say, though, that after spending all my growing up years thinking I was the only person I knew who didn’t have a desire to move to Bolivia, and therefore there must be something seriously wrong with me, it is so nice to know that that is, in fact, not true.
I do love Bolivians, big and little, but I also love non-Bolivians too.
.-= Elizabeth´s last post … why i think of my business as a yoga & music festival =-.
Twitter: happyfuzzyyarn
Yep. I’m 45, and I’ve never had any desire to move to Bolivia. My mom used to tell me I’d change my mind, but she finally shut up when I was 37 or so. She said she wanted grand-Bolivians, and I told her she’d have to go to Bolivia herself to get them. Shut her right up.
.-= Riin´s last post … More woolly goodness- and I suck at blogging =-.
Much love for you, Havi. Thank you for sharing how you feel about Bolivia and putting it so eloquently. As someone who celebrated her Bolivian heritage from an early age, I admit it has been difficult for me to truly understand.
And then you shared this, and it has been quite a gift. Yes, of course you are complete. And maybe that means I can be complete too.
Twitter: Virtuallori
So much goodness here.
Me, I went through a time when moving to Bolivia was something I thought I might like to do. If the right traveling companion had come along with the right set of visas and tickets, I could be there now, living a different kind of life. But those pieces never quite fell into place, and Bolivia lost its allure to me. I’m over here in Peru now (thanks, @Emily). Peru is different, for sure, but for me also lovely, although I can understand why someone whose heart was set on moving to Bolivia would be crushed if they were told they could never get a visa and would be stuck in, say, Greenland, for the rest of their lives when they didn’t want to be there at all. I like having a special temporary visa that allows me to occasionally visit the borderlands of Bolivia and take some young Bolivians to lunch or the art museum, and that’s cool with me.
.-= Lori Paximadis´s last post … Friday Really =-.
I’m thirty six and have my trip to Bolivia planned. Or I guess it’s more accurate to say I’m on my way already (for some reason Bolivia seems to only be accessible via nauseating lengthy boat ride rather than a plane trip. WTF Bolivia?). I’m on the boat and I would be devastated if I couldn’t get into Bolivia. I’ve been kicked off the boat before and it almost destroyed me.
It hasn’t been a choice for me either. I have always known I wanted to move to Bolivia. At times I doubted I would ever find the right travel companion (I knew I didn’t want to go alone.) And I found ways to be happy despite not being in Bolivia. But I never would have been “Bolivia-less-by-choice.” I would have been Bolivia-less-but-okay-with-it.
The funny thing? Here I am *on my way to Bolivia* and people are already like, “When do you plan to go again???”
And I’m like dude! I don’t know! I only ever felt the deep need to go once. Going again seems like it would be too stressful for me. And I want to enjoy this one trip as much as I can. And I’m getting past the age where I could (statistically) easily go to Bolivia. Plus how can I decide whether I want to go again before I have even been there???
“But you can’t just go once! ” …”think of the Bolivians!!!”
(I’ve stopped answering that question ;)
Personally, if I care anything at all about other people’s status vis a vis Bolivia, it’s that I wish for everyone to be able to achieve what they want. It’s so, so hard to find yourself in the wrong country.
.-= Eileen´s last post … Work Party Wednesday- Stayin’ Alive =-.
Twitter: househesson
I kept expecting Bolivia to be a surprise metaphor. It brought up so many Bolivias I’ve discovered. But then decide it’s okay. Bolivia has all of the bad parts of Bolivia too. And Here has all of the good and bad parts of Here.
On top of wanting to go do the wild creating and generating thing after months of being steeped in the posts of wonderful people like Goddess Leonie, Pace, and Kyeli. (I’m betting a lot of people here already know who they are, no explanation necessary.) But not knowing what, you know, I’ll /live/ on while I’m getting started, and chronic illness sapping what energy I’ve got after the day job, if not on the day job too. That’s my personal Bolivia, not the Bolivia of people who just happen to be around me and whom I like, but get all starry-eyed about going to a place that’s not on my current or self-chosen dream itinerary. Nope. (It’s Bolivia: The Journey!)
My Bolivia has changed a lot over the years. It used to prominently feature a college where I was going to teach. That’s not there anymore, or at least it’s hiding really good. Ninja college. I don’t know where it’s physically located. The people are different. I’m not sure if I’ll recognize it when I get there. I used to assume it was in Canada.
I’d give it a name except that name would carry along all of the expectations I have about Bolivia. So I think I’ll just keep calling it Bolivia for now.
Twitter: lizemmettmattox
Wow. This has to be one of the most amazing post/comment combos I’ve ever read.
I tip my hat to all Bolivians (it’s not always what they promise in the brochures!) and non-Bolivians alike.
What an amazing community. That is all.
.-= Liz´s last post … Registration is open! =-.
Twitter: soapboxcreation
Oh Havi. Sometimes I would just love to roll around inside your head. That’s probably weird. But there is such brilliance and sparkliness in there — monsters and all.
I’m being forced to move to Bolivia. Against my will. Tomorrow. I just got to California and I so love it here. The amount of hard is kind of soul crushing. And if one more person tells me how lucky this little Bolivian is to have me in his life I might have to punch them in the nose.
I hope they have lots of good tequila there.
Thank you for this.
I married a man who was already in Bolivia full time and, therefore, I moved to Bolivia to be with him. Until that point I had never considered moving there. I like it here, I’ve lost some friends along the way and it’s pretty lonely at times because I moved earlier than anyone else.
The crazy thing to me is, I’m already IN Bolivia but people can’t believe that I don’t want “my own” reason to be in Bolivia. I’m seen as less of a woman and slightly insane for passing up the “great opportunity” for “my own” little bundle of joy.
So somehow, I’m IN Bolivia but not ALL THE WAY in Bolivia.
Ugh judgement.
Twitter: BethNotLiz
Ahhh! SO MUCH STUFF around the issue of moving to Bolivia. Whether the stuff is your stuff or the stuff that other people throw at you, which you must either ignore, duck under, or throw back.
I am lucky enough to have a big sister (and honestly, I have NO CLUE how anyone gets through life without one) who most definitely will move to Bolivia. So, since I have always been a bit unsure about whether a move to Bolivia is in the cards for me, I am able to hold off and observe her move to Bolivia.
But then there are things. There are things about age. Which, before 27 (I know, still quite young) never even entered my mind. But 27 is soclose to 30 which is our society’s Bolvia-moving decade.
And then there was my Significant Other, who is no longer Significant. But I gradually learned he didn’t want to move to Bolivia, and I thought, “Okay, good. I feel like we can agree here.”
And though I’m not ANYWHERE near ready to find a new Significant Other, when I find the one who will (hopefully) be permanent, there will talking and stuff about Bolivia. Ack.
And then there are fears of being old. And having no Bolivians to care for me. Which is not a compelling argument to move to Bolivia, I feel. But still.
This comment is really long but I feel…relieved. Having written it. THANK YOU, Havi. And all of you. HUGS.
Twitter: doodle_pops
This post made me have an epiphany, have a big conversation with my primary travelling companion, burst into tears, feel a whole lot of guilt and shame and then decide that I need to find new dreams for myself. All in the space of twenty minutes.
Havi, I know you always say that Shiva Nata provides those wonderful moments of epiphany for you, but I honestly think that these epiphanies then hide in your blog posts and wait to pounce on those of us who read your blog. The number of times something you’ve said has sparked some kind of realisation for me personally, is insane.
I’m going to write my own post about this – I’ll comment again later with it, in case anybody’s interested.
Twitter: intuitivebridge
I like Eileen’s “Think of the Bolivians!” That made me laugh.
.-= Bridget´s last post … I like you and I love you and here’s stuff to prove it =-.
Havi – this is the best article I have ever read anywhere about the whole Bolivia question. So much so that it has even brought me out of ‘Lurker Mousedom’.
I’m 57 and have never, in my whole life, particularly wanted to go to Bolivia. (Oh, in my early 30s I used to say “if I don’t find someone to take me to Bolivia by the time I’m 35 I’ll just hitch-hike there by myself” – but that was because all my friends were moving there at the time and I didn’t want to get left behind.)
As things turned out I didn’t get to Bolivia. And I’m not at all sorry. The rest of the world holds all sorts of pleasures for the Bolivia-less. And as others have said, one can always borrow small Bolivians for a while – being an honorary Bolivian for a day or two is extraordinarily wonderful.
I’m very happy with my non-Bolivian status and wouldn’t change it for the world. But, like you, it was never really a question of ‘choice’.
Brilliant post!
Twitter: cathyyardley
I’m an accidental Bolivian. I was trying hard NOT to be a Bolivian, but apparently, the Bolivians had their eye on me and figured out sneaky way around. Now that I’m here, I have moments of pure panic and look longingly at other countries and imagine getting over the wall on a moonless night in a hot air balloon, but mostly I’m okay with it.
I would’ve moved to Bolivia on my own at some point, but I kept waiting for when I felt I’d be “ready.” Not knowing that all the travel brochures and videos and other people’s accounts will NEVER prepare you for Bolivia. So getting kidnapped was really the only way I was getting across the border.
As far as the bloodless term “Choice”, I think that people simply assume that Bolivia is fulfilling… the way that most people think that having a high-paying job is fulfilling, or owning a house, or checking off some other list. If you don’t need to do any of those things, it makes them squirmy, like somehow you think THEY’VE moved to the wrong country and are spitting on their flag.
Like I said, I am okay with being Bolivian. However, I don’t simply identify with being Bolivian. I believe that I’ve got dual citizenship, a passport from somewhere warm and creative and beautiful and isolated, with really good internet access.
So I’m Bolivian/Micronesian, perhaps. :)
.-= Cathy´s last post … Twitter-phobic =-.
I once was at a place and time when I felt like you about moving to Bolivia. I hadn’t really decided if I wanted to go there. And then one day something happened: a marriage proposal. And I realized that in fact, I did want to move to Bolivia. But not with him.
So I went on a quest for a new traveling companion. And I found one. We hadn’t finished sorting out our friendship when we discovered that we’d already won tickets to Bolivia. So, now we’ve traveled to Bolivia. He’d never even been around Bolivians before. I was lucky to speak the language, but I also discovered that there was a great deal that no one ever told me about life in Bolivia.
To help others who were considering moving to Bolivia, I began a blog. And because I went to Bolivia before I was ready, as many couples do, I suppose at times I have felt a great deal of difficulty focusing on the more pleasant aspects of the countryside.
I’m glad I live in Bolivia. I am very happy with my traveling companion. But I’m also very lucky to live where I do in Bolivia and that our trip has gone even as well as it has so far, despite a number of problems with ticketing and the airport and citizenship.
It’s also a very tricky thing to find others in Bolivia who feel like I do. Most people I’ve met don’t go to Bolivia until they are ready. Most of them accept the stories their parents told them about how to behave in Bolivia. But I’ve had to write my own. My parents were wrong about Bolivia. I try to show people the science of how best to take advantage of life in Bolivia. I am often ignored or repulsed. People think I do not understand, when I do far better than they realize.
I will not sugarcoat life in Bolivia (or as I call it, the Cheerios Garden). It is a challenging mission to endure. The people in Bolivia are often very cheerful; but they are also often intolerable. And when you choose to live in Bolivia without working there, many of the other citizens in Bolivia cannot understand. Many even claim an incapacity of living in Bolivia without working. Before I lived here, I felt the same way.
Moving to Bolivia will change a person. It is for each person to discover (or not) for themselves if Bolivia is a place that needs visiting. I, for one, am keeping my citizenship.
.-= Jessica´s last post … The Grossness of Parenting =-.
Twitter: barbarajcarter
For me, it was a choice. I chose not to go to Bolivia. As I get older I become more and more certain it was the right choice for me. But a choice it was, and very deliberately made.
Of course, I got some flack for my choice. That happens. But the good news is as you get older it gets better. After about 40 most people stop giving you grief about it. Something to look forward to for you 30-somethings!
The worst flack was from my mother. Finally one day she gave up and said I’d make a terrible Bolivian anyway. Thanks mom.
.-= Barbara J Carter´s last post … Gearing up for the big art show =-.
Twitter: kyeli
…yeah, what Pace said.
Also, I love you, Havi.
.-= Kyeli´s last post … We’d like to get to know you better =-.
Twitter: humanbeingblog
I live in Bolivia part time. And when I tell people how much I like my part-time residency, those who live there full time sometimes judge me, as if only living there full-time is the only right way to go, and I’m selfish if I don’t miss Bolivia every single minute I’m not there.
This is a great post, and I’ve sent it to some of my friends who, like you, never felt the pull of Bolivia. I think you’ve said it better than anyone else I’ve read.
.-= lynn @ human, being´s last post … Sovereignty and shoes =-.
Twitter: JaneOfArdis
Brilliant.
I used to assume that I would always go to Bolivia because that’s just what happens. And then the more I found out about myself and what I liked the less alluring Bolivia seemed. I’d find myself thinking ‘well, if I can’t go to Australia I guess I’ll just go to Bolivia with everyone else’. I met a guy who everyone told me would be a brilliant Bolivian, with the assumption being that that made everything about him that made me want to stab one of us in the eye ok. Now, I’ve realised that I just have no desire to go to Bolivia…it just seems, irrelevant. Perhaps that will change. Perhaps it won’t. But at least I’ll never say ‘well, it better to get going to Bolivia out of the way when you’re young’! Why would you go somewhere only to get it out of the way? goes off to rant.
Oh oh oh! This is so lovely and well-put! I am sending this post to everyone, I think.
Bolivia has zero appeal for me, and always has. Plus, the older I get, the more I find llamas terrifying and panic-inducing.
At this point, I can’t even hang with my friends who’ve moved to Bolivia unless they leave their llamas at home, and some of them won’t do that. There’s not a lot of sympathy to go around for us llama-phobic types. It sucks. I’m working on my llama-phobia, but that kind of thing takes time, yanno?
Twitter: kimianak
Oh, Bolivia! For a long time in my life, I knew I would go. And then, for many reasons and also for no reason, I knew I wouldn’t. Both have felt like a choice at times, and both also didn’t feel like a choice other times – it was just what it was.
I’m happy that my brother and his wife decided to go three times; I love being an honorary (and temporary!) Bolivian, that suits me well. I’m also happy that my gentleman friend doesn’t feel the pull to go. I almost freaked the poor guy out when I asked him on our first date if he wanted to go! I simply wanted to let him know right away that if he strongly felt like moving there eventually, I wasn’t his right person.
The last time I’ve had a bucketload of “you’re sure you don’t want to go? no, really, I mean, are you really sure for sure? you’ll change your mind, won’t you?”, it came from the Bolivian immigration agent who was in the same breath telling me I couldn’t go. Oh, he could fix whatever had to be fixed for me to be able to move there, no problem! Ugh. No thanks. Fortunately, in the four years since I’ve met that immigration agent and had to meet with him on a regular basis, our relationship has evolved and we’ve finally reach the point where he’s stopped asking. Now he simply thinks I’m weird, and he says so with a hint of tenderness in his voice. That’s fine with me! :)
Twitter: JackOutLoud
@Havi – this has always struck me as a very welcoming space in general, I just wanted to double check that I wasn’t intruding on something/co-opting someone’s experience. Since, to really stretch the metaphor, it’s easier for men to catch a short-hop flight to Bolivia than a 9-month steamer journey. And women are more likely to have brochures to Bolivia dumped on their desk, or be asked about their thoughts on Bolivia when all they really want is a cup of tea.
(Reading back, I realise my initial comment could be taken as having walked out on my responsibility. Um, I can’t think of a clever way to stay in metaphor, so – younger sibling. Enough said?)
I had no idea Bolivia was a ‘thing’… and I consider myself in the know! Many people here in LA talk about moving to Portland… In my circle of friends we talk about moving to Buenos Aires. Now there is a place that has some pull for me! When I can work full time from my computer, I’ll be logging in from there for a month or so. But moving there… probably not ;)
.-= cori´s last post … Communication breakdown! =-.
Twitter: LeilaLEvelyn
I was so terribly lonely when all my friends left to go Bolivia. and the fact that they ALL went only made it harder.
i was single and had nothing but Me to buffer the aloneness. they went from I to We we We.
the Bolivians I knew were all convinced that my life alone was easy and liberated. they envied it i thought.
but it didnt take much to figure out that i wasn’t carefree and happy. i was lonely and was having the most gruesome dating experiences you could ever imagine!
they, my dear bolivian friends, pretended they had forgetten that i was a hypersensitive soul through and through who hated travel.
they demanded or expected that i would happily take three hours journeys just to see them, whenever i could.
i even happily helped out with the duties that come with being a bolivian. after all we’re all in this together – right? and also because i am ace at being bolivian part time – i excel at it. new bolivians look saucer eyed gleeful when i am around them because i am pretty damn good as a part time resident.
but i stopped giving time to these bolivian friends so dear when i realised that there was no longer any room left for me.
they never wanted to visit my country. they barely even asked about it and i just GOT-IN-THE-WAY.
so yes i learnt the indescribable Power of Three and was silent in my grief.
i traveled back to my homeland, my island and i gave them up. this involved a great deal of crying, despair and i howled more than you can probably ever imagine.
because suddenly i was so totally alone and it was a taboo that we rarely speak about.
(pls know that i do not hate bolivians and i am only talking here about those specific bolivians i encounted that i had been closest to and experiences these ishoos.)
.-= Leila Lloyd-Evelyn´s last post … Feel bad – express yoself =-.
Twitter: pkeahi
Thank you so much for writing this. A masterful piece.
So many “me too’s” here. This I’ll add:
At 12, I watched her struggle with her Bolivian-ness. She was here in Bolivia first because of me, then because of my 2 fellow Bolivians. Three of us. 3 unplanned trips. in 30 months. She was 19 on her first trip. Good catholic girl. It wasn’t a choice or decision for me, there in that moment. It was a flash card being held up: is this you? no. Pulling out a previously unknown fact about myself.
From ages 12 until 32, every year at my physical exam, I asked for surgery to prevent any trips to Bolivia. Some years, I shopped for someone who would agree to the surgery. From 12 to 32 I was told no, you don’t know what you want, you’ll change your mind. At 32, after years of giving money to pharmaceutical companies for anti-Bolivian drugs, I ended up with a blood clot. A vacation in critical care and $40,000 later, they agreed to the surgery. oh, one more thing…only if my traveling companion signed a permission slip to allow the surgery on me.
For fun, let’s flip that: any man, married or not, can go to a doctor’s office, say he wants anti-Bolivian surgery, and can get it done, practically on the spot, without needing anyone’s permission. (U.S.)
Bolivia is a land of many landscapes, eh?
I remember being seven years old and asking my mother why people move to Bolivia. I just didn’t get it but heard about it all the time. So, as much as my adult self can wax radical about feminist politics, economic coercion, the battle of the sexes, and all sorts of intellectual theories developed for pre-emptive defense, ultimately, I’m with you. Certainly I can imagine in the abstract sense that the option might arise and I might take it. But in the specific sense, no.
Twitter: kerritwigg
I moved to Bolivia about 8 years ago and continue to explore it deeper and deeper. In fact, we moved to Zone 2 last October. Surprisingly, I am heading to Zone 3 this Spring even though we didn’t plan to. We heard it is expensive, kinda insane and we like to plan our trips. My husband was actually in the process of dismantling the plane – so that we couldn’t move further into Bolivia.
I love Bolivia. Bolivia has helped guide many of my life choices and helped me find direction. I’m a happy Bolivian, although I hate to see the sad ones.
Secretly, sometimes if I go out at night and someone assumes I am not a Bolivian — I find that flattering.
.-= kerri twigg´s last post … The trouble with new jobs =-.
“But to say that I chose this life of Not Living in Bolivia? Impossible. ”
I’m likely telling you something you already know, but instead of defining yourself as where you don’t live, how about defining yourself as where you DO? :)
I live in Bolivia, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I love it here. In fact, living in Bolivia defines a large part of who I am. But it’s not ALL I am. Right now, it’s taking up a lot of my identity, but one day, I’ll just be living in Bolivia, not Living in Bolivia. :)
.-= Herbwifemama´s last post … Muffin Tin Monday- 1-2-3?s =-.
Twitter: moonslar
I am in Bolivia… and I love it, but I also know that its not what everyone wants either… its just another place like Canada or Australia or China or Outter Mongolia. If EVERYONE lived in Bolivia the world would be damned boring.
Even though I am in Bolivia, I don’t think its the be all and end all. There are challenges, for some women the benefits are great, for others its just not that great.
I thought I was done in Bolivia, but the draw is still there… I have friends who were not considering making the trip, but found themselves happily there, and friends who activily resisted any discussion of Bolivia…
Living in Bolivia can be mind altering or mind numbing… but its not the only place someone can be spectacularly, sparklingly, happy. The only way ANYONE can be happy is to love where they are, who they are, what they are doing, and love the journey.
(but the worst thing is the Bolivians who feel that they NEED to justify their decision by dragging everyone there… blah!)
.-= Pam´s last post … Lost =-.
Twitter: carriemoore
yes. yes. yes. yes. YES. YES. YES. YES!!!
being 29, and weeks away from marriage, and in a small oklahoma town until I can get back to my beloved Portland, THIS has been such a topic. an eye-rolling, frustrating, just tell them what they want to hear topic….
Thank you Havi for yet again articulating a point of view that makes SO much sense to me.
What @Risby said is well put and I might have to start using that.
“maybe, and I’ll deal with that if it occurs, but my experience of myself to this point in time is that I have no desire to do so”
Look at all these amazing responses…. what a kick ass group of people! awesome.
At my age (41), the question is rapidly changing from “are you going to go to Bolivia some day?” to “why didn’t you go to Bolivia?” It always catches me off-guard. If it were close friends asking me, friends who might want to have an engaged conversation about it, that would be one thing. But usually I am asked by people who don’t know me very well at all. They seem to want a simple, short answer, and yet they don’t really believe a simple, short answer, even when it’s the truth. I would like to ask back, “why did you go to Bolivia?” I hope that won’t be too rude, because I genuinely am curious. (And if it *is* a little rude? Oh well. They started it.)
I’m 50 and was never drawn to move to Bolivia. I kept waiting to get caught by some unanticipated drive to move to Bolivia (because that’s what everyone told me would happen), but it never came. I’ve built a big, beautiful, exciting, life that I love, and am so glad I never succumbed to the pressure to move to Bolivia… I know now it would not have been right for me, not at all. I was not what you would call a strong person back in my 30′s, but I am grateful I found the strength, somewhere, somehow, to listen to myself.
My whole early life I planned on living in Bolivia. I KNEW I was going to live there. I counted on it. I planned the rest of my life around being there. I would do this and this and this until I moved and then I would just live there.
Until one day I woke up and realized that the idea of living in Bolivia scared the bejeepers out of me. I didn’t want to move.
But then, I didn’t know what or where I was supposed to live. I had no plan, no self-definition of not being in Bolivia.
People expressed disappointment, “But you’d be so good in Bolivia. You’re a natural Bolivian.” Which only further increased my sense of lonliness and confusion and lostedness.
It’s taken me a lot of years to realize that Bolivia is a beautiful country but I am happy not living there. My idea of who I am is much richer and fuller without being stuttered behind the broad category of Bolivian. The world to which I get to belong is more complete because I am more congruent in myself.
Thank you for the chance to think about this in this way. It’s nice to gather up the loose strings of all those thoughts and make them into a lovely, warm, non-Bolivian sweater to wear.
Twitter: CrazyOnYou
I don’t think it really matters whether you move to Bolivia yourself or just appreciate the ones who chose that for themselves. If your life is a diamond, choosing Bolivia is only one facet–you’ll shine just as bright no matter which direction it’s facing. Just shine the way you are and don’t worry about anybody else’s reflections on you.
I relate to that feeling of isolation you, Havi, and others so poignantly express, of being different from the mainstream, and being bombarded by everyone’s opinions and projections. I experience that in so many ways, even though I am a happy resident of Bolivia. In fact living in Bolivia seems to make me appear like all those other Bolivians so I feel quite oddly alone though I seem to fit in.
To know who you are and what you want at any moment and embrace that fully, despite all the noise out there, is a precious thing.
Love,
Sandy
Twitter: Hallowspite
I’m so confused. I had no idea everyone was either going or not-going to Bolivia. I’ve barely heard of the country before now. What’s going on?
Twitter: Hallowspite
Never mind, sorry Havi – just saw your reply in the comments, missed it before. So it’s all a metaphor? Oops!
Twitter: susangiurleo
I moved to Bolivia once and love living there. We tried to get there 2 more times, but that was not to be.
I am sad when people judge our “choice” to only go once and the judgment of my Bolivian who is an only Bolivian.
(Apparently being an “only” is not desirable in some circles)
I truly don’t understand the fascination with Bolivia and all the questions, expectations and sensitivity. Bolivia is NOT for everyone and that is awesome for those who know where they really want to be. It’s also a place that one can go once, twice, three, four times and that’s awesome, too.
.-= Susan´s last post … Epic Health Care Reform Changes- but Who Has the Time =-.
Twitter: elissaish
What if the question wasn’t to Bolivia or not to Bolivia…but just how much Bolivia do you need?
I mean, we were all born there. In that way we are all Bolivians, of Bolivia.
Some of us never moved out. Some of us come back for holidays. Some of us write postcards from Rome. It’s all good. My closest friends are 50/50 split and I like it that way. How could we live vicariously through each other if we all lived the same life?
I’m pretty clear on the amount of Bolivia I need. I tumbled into Bolivia at 24 with a bottle of Chianti, and at 39 I still like a good visit to Rome.
.-= Elissa´s last post … Life is a Chocolate Chip Cookie =-.
This post-and-comments is fascinating, cheering, disturbing. And a bit sad,too.
For many years I have been asking “Why?” of those moving to Bolivia. Not to be judgmental, but because I really want to know. A serious, deeply interested inquiry. Because I have never felt the pull.
As much as I ADORE Bolivians, the desire to move there just has never been mine. And the outsider status automatically bestowed upon those who don’t move there, who don’t even want to move there, is huge and difficult to bear. (No pun intended.)
All I have ever heard in response is, “I have always wanted to.” Even from friends who have never, ever, ever, not-once-in-15-years-of-knowing-each-other-as-bosom-buddies mentioned it before they came waltzing into the room waving plane tickets at me. They assumed I just knew they wanted to move there because, well, doesn’t everyone?
In a culture that pressures and expects everyone to move to Bolivia (or at least try to), wouldn’t it make sense to examine one’s impulses? Just to be certain one is truly, fundamentally, totally and essentially in one’s truth and not the truth taught by the culture at large? Or maybe even just to roll around in all the whys for the pure pleasure of it? To expand the excitement and the joy? To know oneself better? To be able to tell the Bolivians over and over why you are with them–especially on those hard days?
I have, actually, “always” wanted to go to Ireland. And I can tell you why. Those record ads in the 70s, the ones that played the fun music while showering you with images of verdant, peaceful, rolling hillsides—they made me long for Ireland. Because it looked beautiful and exotic. Because it seemed to be exactly opposite where I lived. Because I wanted adventure and travel. Because those images spoke Transcendent Joy to me.
But everyone assumed I would want to stay where I was for a while and then move to Bolivia. As if that is the right thing to “always have wanted” and there is no other. I had to back up my desire to visit Ireland; I had to defend it.
I can’t defend my never having moved to Bolivia.
I have lived through nearly 30 years of getting that look, of being asked if my biological clock is broken, of being told how much so-and-so would LOVE to see me in Bolivia–and they all want to know why I am not there and why I have let them down. Or they just think there is something wrong with me.
I guess this is like anything else — skin color, religion, sexual-orientation, etc — when anything or anyone is Culturally Normative, they are thought to be automatically understood, no questions to be asked, no thoughts to be had. But a Non Normative is supposed to always be ready to defend itself.
That’s the sad part.
But thanks so much to all of you for the conversation. It is a relief to see one like this out in the open. Or at all.
Brilliant discussion.
I just want to let those of you who have not moved to Bolivia and are feeling lonely about your friends’ relocation there to be patient. I’ve been through that many times, and you will find that as the years pass your friends will make longer and longer trips out of Bolivia to visit you, and in fact will delight in your company as a refreshing break from all those dang Bolivians!
Twitter: erinbowe
I didn’t choose, I just knew. I’ve always known, even before having thought about it.
I’ve never hidden the fact that I don’t want to move to Bolivia, and at times that can be somewhat isolating. However, around people I don’t know well, I do tend to hide the fact that actually I’m not even really that fond of Bolivia (gasp!).
The interesting thing is once I reveal this, some Bolivians then view me as a confessional — a safe place to confide that of course they love Bolivia with all their heart, but if they could do it all over again they most definitely would not have moved there. They feel isolated too, just in a very different way than I do.
They thought moving to Bolivia was what they wanted, was what they were supposed to do, was what would make them complete. But wherever you go, there you are.
Y’know. I read this to be about marriage. It’s interesting that almost everyone else read it differently!
Twitter: DianeRipstein
Here on the East Coast and I have read every one of these heartfelt posts…what a beautiful outpouring of sincerity and soul. What a wellspring you have tapped, Havi.
You asked for our stories. What do I know about isolation and about completeness?
My first journey to Bolivia started with joy and excitement but the ride was bumpy and the seas were rough. We went overboard before we could reach the Bolivian shore. There was much grieving and the utter isolation of loss.
Years of effort later, after too many visits to the immigration office and waiting for the results of official document scans, there were two more journeys to Bolivia. These were high risk crossings, and each time I took to my bed and didn’t come up to the decks until we reached Bolivia itself. There was much cheering when we pulled into the harbour.
This was a time of both literal isolation in my bed and the total completeness of dedication and intention.
Years of effort later, and the completeness of Bolivian family life turned into the isolation of single parent Bolivian life.
Years of effort later, and the two small Bolivians (now big and strong and playing American football) have set off on their own journeys. The joyful completeness of our trio turning into the isolation of a large Bolivian home that makes me feel small.
What do I know about isolation and about completeness?
They are the Yin/Yang of the human condition. Whether we are in Bolivia or not in Peru. Whether we are in Canada or not in Spain. And my story joins every one of yours. And I feel an amazing kinship. L’Chaim…to life!
Ugh I am in Bolivia and I struggle so much – the most major lesson in surrender. I don’t think I ever really wanted to move, but my man did and so we went. And now we are in Bolivia – it’s so major here.
But I think, like anywhere else, if you have family in Bolivia to help, then Bolivia is phenomenal. So many of us are doing it in tiny tribes and it is rough.
Thank you so much Havi for creating this beautiful place for us to be radically honest.
xoxoxo
Dara
PS – I am enjoying your emails so much, I just featured you in my newsletter.
.-= dara´s last post … Woo Woo 101- You Have Seven Chakras =-.
Twitter: playwithamy
Sweet, dear post, Havi.
When my Mother was alive she would say to me, “You cannot imagine the beauty of having your own children. Once you have them, it is heaven.” Or something like that.
Although I have no children (and no particular desire for them, yet) I do believe that such a beautiful part of life cannot be comprehended INTELLECTUALLY.. We cannot guess how it will feel. We cannot jump into the future and understand what it will be like…at all.
Back in my days when I was totally oPPosed to having children, I was afraid. Underneath. It took me a long time to understand that.
Now I believe that being open to the flow of life, and whatever it brings us, is key to joy.
If the universe brings me children, I will be open and joyfully accepting of it.
If not, whatevs. No biggie.
Either way, life rocks, yes? :)
xoxo,
Amy
.-= Amy Martin´s last post … How To Be A Rabid- Peace-Loving Negotiator- Asia-Style =-.
Twitter: Charsfirststep
Havi:
I love you and this amazing community you’ve created. To me, this says it all
“I’m living my life.
And loving my life.
Not because I made a choice. But because I’m here, and here — for me — is good” – reminds me of meeting yourself where you are which is the basis of your work.
Also seems like a perfect quote for your book to be. . . just sayin’ it’s such a poetic statement of Havi-ness.
I’ve relished this lively discussion with your right people and all the different viewpoints that have come up.
Here’s my story.
I went to law school, met my husband to be on my 9th day and it was love at first sight. Literally – I knew I’d marry him 3 seconds after I met him AND I didn’t want to marry him until I could legally handle my own divorce just in case I needed to do it. I didn’t trust the intensity of my feelings . . . plus my mom was dying and my life in general was a stressful nightmare.
Gloria Steinem was my idol at the time – I was the quintessential woman’s libber.
Little did I know that I’d be taken to Bolivia 5 years later, almost without a second thought. I told my sis we were thinking of going and she looked me right in the eye and said, “Char, you’re already there. I can tell by looking at you.” And she was right.
I went from wondering why moms couldn’t wipe their bolivian’s nose to being one of them. I went from wondering what all the fuss was about to being a major fusser about everything. Being in Bolivia was the most knock down drag out falling in love feeling I’d ever encountered – and through all the heartache, disappointments, and delights, raising my two bolivians alone is my greatest achievement.
If nothing else gets done in my life, I know I’ve raised two beautiful self sustaining Bolivians who love life, cherish me and each other, and live life on their own terms.
The hardest part of being in Bolivia now is coming back home to myself – because though I raised Bolivians, my Bolivians don’t need me as they once did which is as it should be.
So, I come back to something I’ve learned over and over again from you. Meeting myself where I am – living my life where I am, as the mother of two Bolivians, and en route somewhere and kinda blindfolded.
Thank you so much for helping me think through this relationship with Bolivia – I really never thought of my life or my Bolivians as such. You spin my head around in directions unnknown – over and over and over again.
I really adore you.
.-= Char Brooks´s last post … The Rant Edition- No One Gets to Steal Your Health! =-.
Twitter: AmberStrocel
I am so, so intensely flattered that you included me in the list of neat people in Bolivia. You made my day, Havi. Thank you for that. Thank you, thank you, thank you. :)
I will say that for me the pull to Bolivia was very real. But it happened only after I was married. It was very old-school and retro, I got the paperwork in the mail and I went from thinking Bolivia wasn’t for me, to thinking, “OMG, I must go there YESTERDAY!” It was very odd, and it wasn’t a choice. I wanted to be in Bolivia like I would want a sandwich, no choosing involved, only a physical craving for yumminess. So even on the flip side, the idea of choice isn’t really present for me.
.-= Amber´s last post … What I Learned in August 2010 =-.
Twitter: LisaGillispie
I fought long and hard to get to Bolivia. A damn expensive plane ticket! The trip took freakin’ forever, there were many detours and the landing was rather bumpy. But we made it. I shake my head in amazement quite often that we finally, finally arrived. It has by no means been an easy transition but I love it (most days).
That said, I’ve always been puzzled by the expectation that everyone is expected to travel here.
I was asked so many times “when are you going to Bolivia???” and told so many times “if you just relax/just stop trying so hard/just give up, before you know it you’ll be in Bolivia!”. Or better yet, if you just take this essential oil/herb/alkaline water/therapy/etc., etc., etc. you’ll be magically transported to Bolivia. If I had a dollar for every one of those I could’ve paid for my plane ticket :)
.-= Lisa´s last post … Welcome to the World =-.
I had fantasies about Bolivia for years, starting when I was a little girl. I always thought I’d go. Then someone gave me a ticket to Bolivia, with the condition that I go without him. I was afraid to go to Bolivia alone. Nobody wanted to go with me. My dream had become a nightmare.
I thought about throwing the ticket away, but I thought that that would be a really cruel and wasteful thing to do, when so many people want to go but can’t. A ticket to Bolivia is not something to be discarded just because you’re not ready to go, in my opinion.
So I gave my ticket to a nice couple who really wanted to go but couldn’t. It was like giving away a dream. I thought I’d have another chance later, but when the opportunity presented itself, I decided there were other places I’d rather go. And then the desire to go to Bolivia just gradually faded away.
Twitter: write_spirit
I’ve spent an amazing 20 years in Bolivia. Each visit was unique, and I would have traveled there again, but my darling is not the world-traveler that I am.
What amazed me (still does) is that in spite of all the women who go to Bolivia, it’s still been incredibly lonely for me. Perhaps that’s because the more young Bolivians you have traveling with you, the harder it is to connect with others. After all, when your own Bolivians fill the mini-van, who can you carpool with? And I’ve never been a flag-waving Bolivian. I’m content to watch the parade pass by.
Now, however, I’m watching my time in Bolivia nearing its end. I’ve traveled back home once or twice, to start to prepare for repatriated life, only to discover that there is a stigma attached to having lived there for so long. A scarlet letter “B” if you will. Like my brains went to Bolivia and never were seen again. That makes me sad.
In the meantime, I will continue to work on my own path – one which I hope will allow me to meander in and out of Bolivia at my choosing. Thank you for your thoughts on this, Havi
Twitter: mdyak
Havi, this is stunningly wonderful (like so many things you write)!
I am 64 years old and decided at 26 (in 1972) to never ever go to Bolivia. I was so definite I had surgery (paid for myself, no insurance) to make sure that I would never accidentally or intentionally go there. I have never had any regrets. And funny thing, even though I didn’t really tell people about it, no one has really bugged me about it. They must have somehow sensed there was no point.
I came to the choicelessness part of it the reverse of what you have experienced. At first it was a definite decision. I realized with the help of the women’s movement in the 70′s that if I went to Bolivia, I was most likely going to be on my own regardless of who I went with. Oh, I knew that some people have a lot of resources and can hire all kinds of assistance (i.e. other women) to help out with being in Bolivia, but no guy I went with was really going to pull equal weight on that journey. I wasn’t having any of it. It was only later in life that I figured out that this is really who I am and not a “choice” or a political statement.
The thing I don’t get is the stuff about how women who don’t want to go to Bolivia are “being selfish.” What’s that about? I think it’s quite the opposite. How selfish when the environment is really already hurting in Bolivia for everyone to crowd in there! The planet will get lopsided and go off its orbit if everyone keeps moving to Bolivia… and half of them don’t really want to learn the language or the customs of the place.
Well, that’s my 2 cents. Thank you enormously for opening up this subject. And, yes, like Char I adore you too. :)
Twitter: theyogaofliving
I was on my way to Bolivia, more than halfway there in fact, when we encountered terrible turbulence and the plane crashed. Everyone on board, except me, perished.
My passport is still stamped with a valid Bolivian visa, and I still look at it sometimes, but I doubt I will ever board a plane again.
.-= Rupa´s last post … Happy Birthday- Krishna =-.
When I read this post: YES! That’s it exactly!
When I read the comments: Wow! There’s just so much more that is so yes, exactly.
Once I really wanted to go to Bolivia. I packed and prepared myself. I had a travel partner.
But then my travel partner bailed and I just knew that I didn’t want to go to Bolivia by myself.
But here’s the thing. Since then I have a nagging fear that I can’t go to Bolivia at all. I’m not sure that my passport will be accepted and I can’t cross the border. What if I can’t ever go? I mean, I’ve never even accidentally found myself anywhere near South America.
I still don’t want to go to Bolivia by myself, but I find that everything I’ve done since then has drawn me further and further away from where I think Bolivia is. Each step has in its way been a choice, but not towards Bolivia, but not specifically away from Bolivia.
Anyway, the Earth is round, so who knows how close or far I am from Bolivia? I’m just looking as far as I can which is the horizon.
Ironically my husband has always wanted to visit Bolivia (no language barrier, it’s hot) and I haven’t; as regards your version though he has been determined not to buy a ticket whilst I have wistfully longed. We’re going to be going to Bolivia, next year I hope. I’m really looking forward to it, have promised him an adventure.
I do find it hard to understand why people vehemently don’t wish to go there. But I can accept it – the want I have for other people to go is so I can visit and enjoy the fun bits. Yep. I’m selfish.
Twitter: smlacy
Thank you, Havi, for putting this into words for me.
It was never a “choice” for me either. I’ve never been pulled. I’ve never been interested. I just think, “Oh how nice that people want to go to Bolivia, I hope they have a good time! Now which flight do I get on to get to Italy/France/Greece?”
I’ve been told too many times to count that it’s biological, that one day I’ll wake up and suddenly discover that I want to go to Bolivia. Sure, it might. I’ve accepted that it might happen.
But somehow, I really doubt it. I know myself well enough at this point that there is absolutely nothing inside of me that has even the slightest urge to go to Bolivia. It’s like I just didn’t get that part of my brain.
I’m lucky in that my parents are totally okay with my not moving there. And I now have medical reasons to give people who bug me about it.
But the fact of the matter is, even without health issues that prevent me from traveling there – I still wouldn’t go. But with any luck, in about 20 years people will leave me alone about it.
I could always pull the “eccentric artist” card too. That might work. ;)
.-= Sarah Marie Lacy´s last post … A confession and a plan =-.
and apparently, even if you do plan on going to Bolivia (or Italy) sometimes you end up in Holland:
http://damomma.com/2010/09/01/child-not-typical-results-may-vary
I’m another Lurkette brought out of hiding by the marvellousness of your article… thank you!
You expressed so beautifully something I have been trying to explain to many of my favourite people for years. Bolivia is just not on my list. There’s lots of other places I’d like to go. I love it that other people go to Bolivia, get happy and tell me about it. I love that. But I’m happy woofling about doing my own non-Boliviary things. And it would be great, as you say, if people just asked about all the other places I go to and the things I do there, rather than wittering on all the time about how, if I’d only give it a go, I’d find the weather in Bolivia really quite delightful – if a little changeable!
This is one blog post I’m definitely saving ;-)
I just had to duck in and say that I posted this blog post on Facebook (as you know), and a few of my friends said they ended up hanging out at Fluent Self for a while…it makes me so happy to think that so many other people “get” all this great stuff you share, Havi!
.-= Dawn´s last post … Taking the Learning Out of the Classroom =-.
I, on the other hand, am moving to Paraguay (with my best friend). It is a choice – forced by policies and taxes, but a choice. I am not unhappy about moving to Paraguay but I would not have chosen to move for a number of reasons – mostly related to how people around me seem to think about Paraguay (and that it the first stop to Bolivia!)
I try not to explain my choice about Paraguay. But there it is – another person assuming something about me that isn’t true. Do I correct them? Do I let it go? Neither feels quite right.
p.s. I spent a lifetime with health issues related to Bolivia – it has hampered my life and my work. The Medical Hierarchy decided for me that the most important thing I could do was preserve my right to go to Bolivia. I objected but was never believed or taken seriously or whatever. 33 years of hell later (a.k.a. 17 surguries), they’ve decided to revoke my visa because at this age it would be dangerous for me to go to Bolivia. I mourn my wasted years – but not never visiting Bolivia.
I went to Bolivia unexpectedly at a young age. I decided to stay there, even though I was soon without a traveling partner and on my own with my little Bolivian. In a strange country, young, very isolated. Everyone I knew was still partying hard in the homeland and I was off in another country. Very alone. After some time I did find a new traveling companion, who at first was very unsure about his new status, but with a little time and gentleness he and the little Bolivian came to appreciate each other. I always thought that when I got older, I would find friends who would understand and I would be less isolated. But now here I am with a Bolivian in High School and all the people I know who are my age have teeny tiny Bolivians. And our experiences are still so different that I feel lonely. The others who have Bolivians of the same age are not that accepting of someone my age. Where are all the others who went to Bolivia young? I KNOW I was not the only one, and even so, I want to be friends even if I happen to be younger. I also thought the stigma of being a young traveler to Bolivia would ease with age, but it has always stayed the same. But hey, I am HERE, able to fully understand and we could talk about our life with teenagers and maybe we could all feel less lonely. Oh and now the pressure to have another Bolivian. I haven’t even thought about that in so long, I just have really conflicting feelings about it. It’s not like I don’t adore my Bolivian. I just think it might be time to explore the world outside Bolivia a little. And is that so bad?
Twitter: cathywilke7
It’s no longer an option for me to go to Boliva and that’s a real relief, I must tell you. All my life I had just assumed that I would end up there–after all, that’s what women (especially married ones) do. My husband was not a fan of the country but had agreed to come along if that’s what I wanted. I had no doubt that he would adjust beautifully to the customs and culture there so his ambivalence wasn’t really in the way of making the decision of whether or not to go. I just got to a point where I was getting older and I knew I couldn’t keep postponing it. I finally came to the realization that I could either just get the tickets already and plan the trip or make the decision that I wasn’t going to ever go. I didn’t think taking the trip when I wasn’t really ready so that I wouldn’t regret it later in life was a good enough reason to embark on such a serious and life-changing journey. I decided that if I had really wanted to go, I would have gone or be preparing to go, instead of talking myself into going because I had always assumed that I would end up there.
Not to mention the alarming appointment with my (then) gynecologist the year that I was 40. She said to me in these exact words: “I want you to know that the ship is leaving the port and if you don’t do something soon, it will go without you.” AND she asked me to SIGN A DOCUMENT stating that she told me so and that I understood.
For me deciding that Bolivia was no longer an option for me was very, very, freeing. And I know that I made the absolutely right decision. It really disturbs me to think that anyone–friends, family, strangers–thinks they have a right to give an opinion on whether a woman should go to Bolivia or not–it’s a personal, private issue.
Havi– I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE your use of the metaphor of Bolivia. Genius. And everyone who commented wrote some really creative stuff based on it. All of you here on the BLOG are smart, funny, and cool!
Twitter: CarolinaLucian
I’m 33 and I have a Bolivian residency.
At first it stroked to me how people seemed to live happily under this conditions. Power shortages all the time, nobody picking up your trash, the postal service sucks so you’re pretty much isolated (weird how everybody feels that way at some point or another).
Or so it seemed.
Anyhow,since I’m here already, I decided to give it a real shot. Maybe there’s a way to self realization hiding in this chaos.
Well there is. For me at least.
In Bolivia I’ve found exactly what my soul needed to grow:
* Patience and Acceptance (Bolivians don’t care what Your preferences are, they’ll just dance to whatever tune They feel like).
* Resilience
* A strength beyond words. Really, I am amazed at the incredibly hard stuff I’ve had to deal with in this country and that I’ve been able to handle gracefully.
* I’ve made peace with my own body. It has adapted to the weather like it was design to live here.
* Now that I’m surrounded by the exuberant nature I feel closer to the Source of all beings.
* And most importantly: I found my heart, as big as the world, and part of that Source.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts Havi. Always a delight.
Twitter: 8junebugs
I had a complicated relationship with Bolivia for a while. For a long time, I didn’t even care that it existed. Then I hit the point where everyone said it was time to go, particularly because I was with my Right Person, who is indeed an excellent traveling partner. I’d never really given Bolivia much thought, but I woke up one morning and assumed They were Right…and I was a little weaker at that point than I’d been in a while. I listened to Them instead of to me.
My Right Person, with whom I had shared many fine adventures, wasn’t ready to think about Bolivia (or the culturally defined travel process) then, for many really good reasons. So I said, well, the heck with you! I shall find someone else who wants to get visas together and work toward the trip with me!
As often happens, the Universe wasted no time giving me a chance to decide RIGHT AWAY about Bolivia. I met a Someone Else and wound up on the boat to Bolivia but quick, in spite of travel insurance. That Someone Else, it turned out, wasn’t ready for Bolivia yet (but wanted to go there with me someday), and I didn’t think I could go there alone, so I felt I had to cancel the trip (I did not have to, but perhaps still should have–it’s as complicated as Bolivia itself). I stayed with Someone Else much longer than was good for me and wound up not wanting to go to Bolivia with him. (It turns out we did not travel well together at all, no matter where we went. Bolivia would have been unbearable.)
Today, I am again with my Right Person (yay, Universe!) and we both think Bolivia would be very nice. We do have many friends there and we receive lovely postcards. But we’ll get there when (if) we get there, in our own time. And if we never get to Bolivia, we’ll go somewhere else. Traveling together is our big thing, rather than exactly where we end up.
[...] I read Havi’s brilliant post about Bolivia, and I must admit to having a v-e-r-y strong reaction. Please read her post, if you would be so [...]
[...] This is some serious stage three community action at work, darlings. It is Havi-like levels of psycho fandom. [...]
My best friend lives in Bolivia, and my visits to her have been some of the happiest and most amazing moments of my life. There was even one extended stay while her husband was deployed, and those months taught me most of what I know about the care and feeding of llamas. :)
I’ve always wanted to move to Bolivia–I love the sights, the sounds, the fun. I even spent a summer interning at the Bolivian consulate here. But as I continue to mature and become more self-aware, the more I realize that as much as I WANT to move to Bolivia, moving to Bolivia may not be the best thing for me. For starters, I have health concerns that could drastically affect both my travel plans and my living arrangements once in-country. And my career, which I love, is not very Bolivia-friendly. These are complications that could be worked around, to be sure, but I’m wondering how fair it is–to me, my potential traveling companion, or my llamas–to make things that much of a struggle all the time.
Twitter: eileen_mckenzie
At my relative advanced age (46) Ive moved into and out of Bolivia 3 times. Ha. Imagine the realization that a travel partners ability to also live in Bolivia would be a key part of this undertaking. Silly me.
Im no longer in Bolivia and whilst the years of being there/not there have been alternately soul-wrenching and euphoric, desperately lonely, hopeful, sexy, heart-melting happy to 911-crazy , head spinning from recalling all the experiences… With this last move out I finally realized (epiphany) Ive spent so much energy on making that life work, throwing my energy, creativity and support behind it, that I gave up my Self in the process. I thought thats what a good citizen did. So now I-me-AM the focus of all that energy. Woohoo! best time of my life ever. Bolivia in the future? I cant predict the future. I do know that would have to be hella awesome travel partner. The benefit of my choices: my 16 year daughter old has no pull to Bolivia and she has a mother who will never ever push her, or let anyone else push her, to move anywhere she didn’t want to be.
Oh, Havi. WONDERFUL. I feel illuminated. I had never thought about it NOT being a “choice” per se. Because I have always wanted to move there. And because so many women move there without really wanting to, I thought supporting the choice to never live there was so supportive! But now I see, not so much.
Anyway, I am 38 and in the midst of moving there alone. Which is hard, but I am lucky to have the ability to do it! And quite a few of my friends who will never move there are helping me pack, driving me to the airport, etc. Which is lovely.
Wise wise Havi!
Twitter: TheGirlPie
Thank you, Havi, for the perfect place to send people who ask or assert or worry about my not knowing of Bolivia on my global “Map of Me.”
No stories of isolation here, only the fact of contented wholeness, like a ball of rock and fire and sea and salt that holds all I need to not only feel complete, but to Be Complete. Ah, sublime to be at home in one’s own place, eh?
Whatever length of time it took you to share that lovely expression of perfectly clear metaphor — and it is brilliant! BOLIVIA is a much needed book in our culture — was so very worth it. I promise to give it more of my own time to print, reread, and learn from your wonderful commenters.
Thank you again. (I’m so glad the interwebs allow us to share how the people like you-at-your-best can balance out people like me-at-my-worst.)
Big appreciations for this lovely and profound writing.
Twitter: thestudiodoor
Seriously, Havi, I’ve been wanting to delurk for a long time now but the need to stay invisible was much stronger. Until now, because really, it’s like you’ve completely described my feelings about the whole issue.
I’ve known since I was a kid myself that I never wanted to have any when I grew up. And now, (mostly) entrenched in grown-up-ness, Bolivia still holds no sway over me. Never had the appeal, never will. I just don’t have whatever calls other women to go there.
It never was a choice, just a knowing. I only ever considered it once. I was in a bad relationship, and incredibly lonely even when my Ex was in the same room with me. And I wondered if the loneliness would go away if the room were in Bolivia. Of course, thank god I never found myself in Bolivia with that man who is now history…
I’ve wondered too if I were to ever get involved with a man who’d been to Bolivia before, could I deal with that? I think maybe I could… if that meant I were only a part-time stepmom. Maybe that’s sad, maybe that means I’m self-centered or selfish in other people’s eyes, but it’s honest. Because it’s not about finding Mr. Right, or changing my mind.
.-= christy´s last post … dear ada =-.
[...] her own relationship to and experience with that topic–but she did it using the metaphor of moving to Bolivia. The technique stripped out a lot of the emotional landmines that often make talking about the [...]
Twitter: amyslash7.com
You pinned it down perfectly:
“To me, choice generally implies at least some of the following characteristics… It isn’t that I decided against Bolivia. That never came up. It didn’t need to.”
The same for me. There was never a question of moving to Bolivia, or the deliberate not-question either.
It is exasperating to explain when people want to talk about my not moving to Bolivia as if it’s some giant fork in the road of life, when my road doesn’t even *have* that fork to begin with.
.-= Amy´s last post … 6 Tricks for Doing Business on The Far Side =-.
Twitter: GraceJudson
Love this.
I was once told – by one of those women desperately trying to move to Bolivia – that when I said I was uninterested in Bolivia, I was lying, and I really did want to move there.
I just looked at her. Huh?
My mother used to plaintively say, “But you wanted to move to Bolivia when you were a little girl.” (She’s gotten over it – thank goodness!)
Like you and many of the commenters here, it was never a “choice” per se, or if it was, it’s one I wasn’t conscious of making; it was always a part of the package that’s Me.
Great post. Thank you for making it so clear. Maybe now some of the Bolivian proselytizers will realize why we get that blank look! :)
.-= Grace ´s last post … Show a little appreciation =-.
Twitter: RebeccaCKane
@Cori, I find Portland to be quite lovely compared to what a journey to Bolivia would be for me. ;)
Bolivia is such a tender topic, so I’m going to tread lightly as I write this, but here’s another angle I’ve taken on the Bolivia topic.
After some population studies in college, I think it’s important for all of us that not everyone move to Bolivia. I mean, where would would we all live? Would school conditions drop from over-crowding? Would we run out of food and clean water as has had happened in some parts of Bolivia already? Where would the younger Bolivians work?
Conditions could get rough so quickly if we *all* moved there.
This post also got me thinking that there are some parts of the world where women MOVE TO BOLIVIA over and over again without any say about whether they had travel plans to visit or not. No questions asked by their travel companion. And wow. That would be really hard for me. I’m so grateful that that is, largely, not the case in this country.
I like this metaphor so much Havi, I may never retire it. Thank you for convincing that finger to press the publish button.
I have lived in Bolivia for over half of my life and wouldn’t trade my home for anything. My daughter just moved there….I wish she had waited a bit before booking her trip. I know she will be a wonderful Bolivian but wanted her to travel a bit before making her forever home there.
Even though it’s an incredible place (for me) parts of my soul feel lost from not exploring the world before moving there. I pray she doesn’t feel the same way at 38.
AWESOME.
The choice to move to Bolivia, or not, is a personal one. So sad that the choice is always wrong to someone else – you moved there too many times, you only moved there once? you didn’t move there at all??? FREAKISH.
It should simply be a respected personal choice.
Twitter: RebeccaCKane
After some population studies in college, I determined – for myself – that it’s probably a good thing that we don’t all have the pull to move to Bolivia. I don’t think our little planet could handle it if *everyone* moved to Bolivia.
There are plenty of women in other countries who MOVE TO BOLIVIA over and over and over again without any say in the matter. I would not want that.
I’m so grateful that in this country I can pick my travel companion and live my life as I please.
Dig the metaphor. Big time.
[...] post on Bolivia. So much goodness in the comments (and occasional hilarity when some visitors missed the metaphor). [...]
Twitter: christijarland
OMG, the loveliness of Havi’s brain.
And further, the smartnesses and hilarity of this group commenting. I love it. An awesome group.
I can’t say “me too”.
See, I moved to Bolivia because I thought I was suppoed to and it was “time”. Then I wondered what the hell I was thinking, but too late, there I was living in Bolivia.
And, just when I my visa was over halfway to expiration, and I could enjoy Bolivia from afar, visiting infrequently and keeping in touch on Facebook, I decided to extend it.
What?
10 years later it just was the thing I had to do. As described, it didn’t feel like a choice.
I had a lot of anger the first time I moved, feeling like I had packed and off I went, based on other people’s itineraries. However, through the deep turmoil set in place by adjusting to the culture and the language and the general differences of life in Bolivia, I got very clear about alot of things that I thought I “knew” before moving.
Now that I’ll be staying for awhile longer, I’m learning to settle in and appreciate what is beautiful about Bolivians. Even though many days I think I’ve never had the personality or inclinations that would make me a true citizen, it seems to suit me now and is giving me and the Bolivians the experience we were supposed to have. I guess for me, this is where I’m supposed to pick up some of my awareness.
I have loved reading this conversation. I find it disturbing when people assume their way is the only, no matter what the issue.
Grateful for the beautiful sharing started here.
CJ
Powerful, emotional post, Havi. Thank you for writing it and finally putting my feelings into words.
Funny how we often have to re-name things to blunt the emotional edge.
Thank you for the realization that remained after the mist of tears cleared.
.-= RhondaL´s last post … ILuvLex List =-.
Havi, I so love this. I live happily in Bolivia. But, when I was very young I hated Bolivia. Then I desperately wanted to move there but couldn’t. Then I did move, but only because someone else was forced out of Bolivia and I took her spot. Then later, I found another place in Bolivia.
But, I too have ALWAYS hated the notion of choice. If it was a choice, then every person who wanted to move to Bolivia would move there the second they decided it was really for them, and no one would be there who didn’t know how they wound up in Bolivia. Its not a choice. It’s a thousand choices and luck and a million other things all wrapped up together. And being in Bolivia is great. And living in other countries is great.It’s not a binary thing.
And no one is wrong for whether or not they move. They’re just living their lives.
Twitter: 74rally
Holy guacamole – look at all the wonderful stories and the post that encuraged them. Metaphor mouse is feeling extra spunky today.
My story:
My mom headed to Boliva accidently and abruptly. At the time, there was no legal way for her to cancel the flight. She made nice with the natives, but pretty much spent 17 years waiting to move away and reclaim a life that had been interrupted. I think because of the way in which she was displaced, she neither encouraged or discouraged me about the place. Her only advice was to provide me with the tools and knowledge so I didn’t accidently go to Bolivia.
The concept that it’s not a “choice” really resonates with me because Bolivia never appealed to me. I browsed a travel brochure in a waiting room once, and that was the closest to it being a place I considered ever. It’s just not somewhere I’d ever want to go. I don’t speak the language, I don’t understand the culture, the landscape is alien, and I’ve lost so many friends to that place it makes me a little sad. Though I AM glad some of people who go to Bolivia are the smart, funny, creative, inspirational folks that make this world better.
Thank you, Havi, for putting this into words that I can use to try to explain to people why I haven’t been to Bolivia and I don’t want to go. Also so many thanks to the commenter mice for sharing their stories.
Twitter: pkeahi
I have been keeping up with the comments here. compelled. I feel like part of a gang, finally. It feels like I lost a whole bunch of weight in a blink of an eye. bleepin’ crazy internet [wipes eyes]
I’m 50 and like some of the 40 & > commenter mice, people have stopped asking when I’m going to Bolivia. But when I meet people, first questions always involve Bolivia. I got so tired of having people shoot pity at me (it smells and it stains), that a few years ago I started heading that off at the pass. In the same breath as “nope, never been there” I add “that was totally our plan. we have our own biz, travel the world, and have a herd of rescued critters who need us, plus >20 neph- and nie-llamas.”
I’m making a secret stain-proof cape, made of all these comments. I’m tucking it in my back pocket, and the very next time…instead of justifying and defending myself, I’m going to put on my secret cape and just smile.
Thank you to all who have commented here. You nudged me to a different world.
Twitter: Gin_ev_ra
It’s funny. When I was in high school, my friends always told me I was the “girl least likely to move to Boliva, ever”. Which made me sad, because I’d always wanted to see Bolivia. True, I never ooed and aahed over photos of Bolivia, but I still assumed when I made my own journey, I’d love it, and oo and ah over my own photos/experiences.
I found a traveling companion (I wasn’t keen on going alone … might have if there was no choice) and we came here.
In case you’re wondering why I always wanted to come: I’m really interested in cultural exchange. I’m proud of my culture, and wanted to be able to teach it to Bolivians gradually. I wasn’t so interested in one day a week or occasional cultural exchange.
I like Bolivia (yes, it has it’s share of bad days, like any country). But Bolivia really challenged my feminism, and I find I do need to discuss what happens in Bolivia, from a feminist point of view, even with non-Bolivians. Which may annoy non-Bolivians. But Bolivia had such an impact on me, and so many examples of what I’m trying to say are about Bolivia.
I’m particularly worried about the human rights of Bolivian youngsters, female and male. I think we completely overlook their point of view, because they aren’t articulate in English. I know some Bolivian youngsters have a reputation for being a bit wild, (they aren’t all like that, the ones I know are rather sweet) but even when they are wild, they need to be respected and treated like the human beings they are.
And the whole working outside Bolivia thing is fraught. It doesn’t need to be, it should be possible to work from any country. Changing work expectations would benefit people living in Italy, Peru, wherever. And the work outside home affects female Bolivians so much, whereas there are almost no work Visa problems for male Bolivians. And that’s unfair.
So I sometimes want to talk about these issues, I think they are global issues that need to be discussed with Bolivians and non-Bolivians alike.
Twitter: fiadhiglas
I love to travel, but I could never picture myself in Bolivia, even when I was small and everyone said, “of course you’ll go; it’s just a trip that all adults make”
(although that clearly wasn’t true, since I had aunts and uncles who never went). So I kept trying to imagine it – maybe with the right travel partner it could work. In my mid-20s, I found the right travel partner, and he was also ambivalent about Bolivia. We talked about it occasionally, but neither of us felt a sense of urgency. I got tired of answering questions about it. Eventually (and it took years), I looked deep within and realized I had never ever wanted to go to Bolivia. My right partner got his visa revoked some years ago, which was such an amazing relief. And now I’m in my mid-40s, and my visa is being revoked, which requires some adjustment. But both of us look at our lives and see that the parts we love best would not have been possible if we’d taken that trip. So we don’t regret our choices to avoid Bolivia. Luckily many of our friends are also non-Bolivians, but it is hard to meet new non-Bolivians. I’m somewhat introverted, living in a new place where I know few people, and I’m quite socially isolated. But I also don’t think being Bolivian would’ve changed any of that for the better.
.-= Laiima´s last post … rose path meander =-.
This one of the most wonderful things I’ve read about me and my relationship with Bolivia. I’m almost 36 now and relieved that my mum’s finally stopped pleading with me: “don’t forget to move to Bolivia”. Though I do feel the pressure sometimes, what with so many people around me heading over there at the moment.
The metaphor made me laugh out loud though, becuase by some hilarious coincidence I’m actually seriously thinking about moving to …. er, Bolivia. No, I mean actually going there, non-metaphorically speaking hahaha
Twitter: kirstymhall
I moved to Bolivia when I was 24 and single. My family were a bit shocked but they liked the postcards I sent them and they adored the little llama I wound up with.
Wow, what a huge culture shock, Bolivia was! I’d always thought I’d wind up in Bolvia some day but I hadn’t expected to do it by accidentally getting on the wrong plane. At first, everything was so hard and I thought perhaps I’d made a big mistake. I cried a lot because I didn’t understand the language or the culture and little llamas take a lot of getting used to. I stuck it out and eventually it all got a bit easier. But truthfully, I’ve always felt like a bit of a stranger here, even though I do enjoy the company of llamas.
In my thirties I desperately longed to move deeper into Bolivia. I hungered for it. I dreamt about it. But one of my two travel companions just wasn’t interested: indeed, almost everything about the thought of a deeper journey into Bolivia disturbed her and she knew it would be unbearable to come along with me. I couldn’t bear a life without her and since I already had one delightful llama to play with, I decided to walk away from that haunting thought of deeper Bolivia.
I’ve only got a couple more years here in Bolivia before my llama heads out into the world. I don’t regret the way it all turned out but I do still sometimes dream of newborn llamas.
.-= Kirsty Hall´s last post … Name my product! =-.
Havi, a belated thank you for this totally brilliant post that I missed last week because of my internet-free holiday. I keep re-reading it and gradually go through the comments. I can have the cutest little Bolivian ever on my lap and still don’t feel any pull towards his country.
I have friends who are in Bolivia who totally get me but I hate the shoes that keep being thrown at me by other people and which I find fear-inducing at times (“if you don’t go to Bolivia you will feel terribly sad and lonely when you are 50 / 60 / 70…”). My aunt even said to me once very sternly that not going to Bolivia simply cannot be an option. It has always been my option though and I have realized through your post that it really doesn’t have anything to do with choice, it is just how it has evolved for me in a natural way that I have never really questioned and that has never made me feel uncomfortable – it is just pressure from society that keeps insinuating that not going to Bolivia is not a good way to live and that brings up questions that otherwise I wouldn’t really deal with.
I’m afraid I will be dragged to Bolivia kicking and screaming like a Bolivian by a dear dear man whose been there and wants me to share it with him… dammit. Sheesh do we have to share everything? I mean, I don’t share your toothbrush, do I have to share your Bolivian? I like it when my dog sleeps on the bed with us. I don’t even want the Bolivian in my room. And I swear, are Bolivians the absolute most needy of all nationalities? And why the heck are they so hyper and talkative and buttinski and nosey and and and…sigh… mildly entertaining…but sheesh… can’t they come with a timer? I like that idea…. ding!…power off. I think I’ll see if the dear dear man will install one.
Well, I live in Bolivia, and most of the time I like Bolivia…except for when I long for the life I had before I moved to Bolivia…but that’s okay, because I’m muddling along, doing the best I can here in Bolivia. But there is something I’ve learned since coming to Bolivia–so many people are STILL not satisfied with how you’re living in Bolivia. It’s not enough to live in Bolivia–everyone’s got an opinion about which part of Bolivia you ought to be living in, and wanting to know why are you living that instead of this Bolivia–because where you’re at is certainly NOT the real Bolivia. You think you know Bolivia? You have no clue what the real Bolivia is like. You’re not dedicated enough–you haven’t learned the language, experienced the culture, lived as the people of Bolivia live–you don’t truly live in Bolivia–you’re a poser.
It just goes on and on.
So I don’t care anymore who lives in Bolivia. It’s not possible to please everyone–not even the Bolivians.
.-= Karen´s last post … So Long- Summer =-.
Twitter: HollyMarieHill
AMAZING post Havi, and incredible comments!
I’ve never had much interest in Bolivia, but have become slightly less adamant about NEVER EVER going. My traveling companion and I don’t seem particularly suited to this particular trip, and there’s still so many other countries we want to visit first. I was expecting the deep pull to go by now, but it hasn’t happened.
I’m 31 and do worry that I will wake up one day after it’s too late to go and really regret not going…. I take comfort that even if it becomes too late to take the traditional 9 month cruise, there are always other less-traditional travel options.
My biggest problem is that my mom and my grandma are both desperate to move to the grand mountains of Bolivia, but they need me to move to Bolivia first in order to sponsor them. I feel bad that they can’t go if I don’t. They both visit the grand Bolivian mountainside as often as possible, but it is apparently not the same as living there full-time. I love them and want them to be happy, but not if it involves me being miserable in Bolivia, ya know?
A really high high-five for you…
I love this so much. My experience has been a lot like Maryann’s — I love her “I’ve never felt moved to become an astronaut, either.” It just wasn’t a Thing for me.
Every year or so my husband or I would say “Do you want to move to Bolivia? Because we can make that work, if you want to.” And the other one would say “Nope. I’m good. But let me know if *you* want to move to Bolivia. Because I’m open to it.” (Or, more amusingly, after Unpleasant Interactions with Bolivians, “So — wanna move to Bolivia yet?” “Hell no.”)
We’re both 50 now, so odds are against a sudden relocation. You know, it’s funny, but most of my female college friends didn’t go to Bolivia either. We were a science-and-engineering crowd. Hmm. Possibly an actual breed apart? Maybe I really am a space alien!
I do get a little irked that we non-Bolivians so often feel the need to immediately say “But I LOVE Bolivians, myself, SO much.” Frankly — is this racist? — they can be a little uncivilized. What with all the pooping. And discussion of pooping. Not that I don’t LOVE Bolivians, myself. SO much.
[...] Bolivia. by Havi Brooks [...]
Twitter: who_is_matt
My wife and I wanted to move to Bolivia when we first got married, but after a few months together with our dog and cat (the latter of whom we adopted after two weeks of marriage), we realized that we were content where we were, and that moving to Bolivia didn’t sound as appealing as the other options that were open to us.
It wasn’t really a “choice”, though. We didn’t choose to want to move to Bolivia, and we didn’t choose to not want to move to Bolivia. It was just that one day we wanted it and one day we didn’t… the only “choice” was to do what we wanted, instead of move to Bolivia because other people thought we should.
.-= Matt Smyczynski´s last post … advice for potential guitarists =-.
Thank you for this, Havi. It reminds me of what gays and lesbians were struggling with 30 years ago (and why we now say “sexual orientation” instead of “sexual preference”).
If you are ever inclined to write more, I would love to read your thoughts on dealing with people who think that throwing shoes will get you to “give up” and move to Bolivia. It’s really hard to defend ourselves because so few people understand that it’s *not* a choice.
I live in Bolivia. I’ve lived in Bolivia since I met my travelling companion who already had a lovely little llama come and live with us for half of each week, and then eight years later another little llama snuck into our tent and snuggled in and made himself at home too.
Sometimes I resent having let him stay, or rather, having let my travelling companion convince me that once a llama has snuck into your tent you HAVE to keep it or else you will damage your travelling partnership irreparably (not OUR specific partnership, just IN PRINCIPLE) and we’d inevitibly set off in different directions.
And I didn’t want to go travelling alone because I didn’t think my travelling companion really KNEW what a good travelling companion I was and still just needed some time to see me in action and be convinced of how awesome I am to travel with and THEN he’d be all “oh wow you’re the best freaking travel companion the world has ever seen, let me carry your backpack for you, I’m so sorry I’ve never noticed how heavy your backpack was, oh and you’ve been carrying the kettle as well, sorry, would you like a cup of tea?”….
Of course he says his backpack is heavier and I should be offering to carry more and that is never a fun argument to have.
We’re still travelling together but its still really hard a lot of the time. When we STOP and just HANG OUT and look at the scenery and chat we get along better than I can ever imagine two people getting along, but the actual hiking, and setting up camp, and gathering local foodstuffs etc is never a very easy or coordinated affair.
In the end I got chatting to someone else who was hiking along the same road and asked him if he’d help me carry my backpack and then they offered to carry my backpack forever and even though I’m not in love with this other traveller I think I really want to set off exploring with him.
But then when my travelling companion overheard this he instantly turned around and started saying all the stuff I’ve been longing to hear about what a good travelling companion I am and how he wants to carry my backpack and stuff and how sorry he is but I just don’t know whether to believe him anymore.
But really, I promised to FORSAKE ALL OTHER travelling companions and we do have two llamas to think about.
So I don’t know what to do.
I mean, I love my little llama so freaking much it hurts and I feel ridiculously unworthy of his amazing capacity for love and fun and joy and underqualified to be shepherding him through Bolivia.
I’m sure Bolivia is easier to travel in than I’ve known it to be, but apart from the hours in the middle of the night when I get to stop and just play with my llama my experience of living here has been really hard.
So…. isolation and completeness? I have five people to consider in my future travel plans with and I feel ridiculously lonely even though they all love me. Completeness? I’ve lost my sense of it, because it requires a fundamental recognition of the Self and my sense of that is buried at the moment in confusion and guilt and shame and anger and fear and longing and hope and not having any sort of map for this particularly weird part of the landscape.
Bolivia is great. But try to move there only once you’ve got a really strong grip on your own sense of who you are. Otherwise you end up responsible for llamas and confusing their wellbeing and your own and the boundaries get all mucky and it hurts like hell.
Sorry. This comment is way off topic.
Bolivia is an AWESOME metaphor. Havi, you rock.
[...] Ravelry, someone posted a link to this really wonderful blog post by Havi Brooks: Bolivia. It is a metaphor about the complexities around wanting, getting, the drive, and what it [...]
[...] Bolivia. by Havi Brooks [...]
[...] demands, and generally confuse me. Her big issue is that she wants me to live full-time in Bolivia (go read that post otherwise this will be really confusing!) and not just commute there because my [...]
First of all this post is a wonderful thing. I don’t have time to read all the comments right now, but I surely will. I am so happy to read something about Bolivia that doesn’t make me upset, for once. In the meantime, I think I have enough time to share my experience.
When I was around 16, I really wanted to go to Bolivia. I thought about my future life there as the delightful reward for my struggles. I read tour guides, but also I just felt a natural, instinctual comfort with the way of life there. I spent a lot of time working with Bolivians, etc. I really think, based on all my experiences of those days, that if I had moved to Bolivia then, I would have been a model citizen.
But white American New England bourgeois girls are not supposed to move to Bolivia at such a young age. I never even considered it. I wanted to go, but going at that age was outside of the realm of thought. So I never did. And as time went on, Bolivia lost its allure to me. My sister went, and I helped her with everything, I went down there and housesat for her, and in some sense I felt like I’d already been there, it wasn’t a new adventure anymore. And there’s so much else to do in the world.
I don’t regret not being there now. But I am annoyed that I was prevented from going by just the forces that are always pushing me to go now. If I had moved there then, probably I’m naive, but I think that by now, 15 years later, I would be able to go somewhere else.
It’s never really been a choice. When I was 16 I would no sooner have moved than I would have killed a man, and now I would never even think about it if it weren’t for other people asking about it. When I was 5 I wanted to be an inventor, and by the time I was 10 I didn’t, but I never “changed my mind”, I just lost interest. For some reason, nobody asks me why I’m not a scientist yet, or how I came to that “deeply personal decision” blah blah blah.
Oh, I love this post! I’m 37, and I grew up believing that I would go to Bolivia someday. Not because I really wanted to particularly, but because – well, that’s what everyone does, isn’t it? It’s right there on the itinerary: high school, college, meet a traveling partner, go to Bolivia.
Besides, I only knew one person who didn’t go to Bolivia, and that was my aunt. You know, that crazy aunt every family has, who regrets never moving to Bolivia herself so instead takes it upon herself to tell everyone else how to live their Bolivian lives? Yeah. I didn’t want to be her.
But then, I took a look at my parents’ lives, and realized that, well – they really weren’t so happy in Bolivia, either. They said they were, but deep down? They both seemed to deeply regret the move. And I feared that I would end up deeply regretting the move myself, and end up making any Bolivians in my care unhappy. So I just kept traveling in my circles, treading water.
Then I hit 29, and OMG did I ever want to go to Bolivia, like, yesterday!! But my travel partner was the kind who would blow all the money we’d set aside for the plane ticket on gadgets, and I knew that I didn’t want to travel with him, but neither did I want to go on my own. Then I realized that I wanted to go to Graduate Schoolandia, and that was on the opposite side of the world as Bolivia, so I would have to make a choice – and I chose Schoolandia, and wondered for a while if I’d made the right choice.
But I’ve since traveled the world and lived in many other countries besides Bolivia, and found that they’re wonderful places that I’d like to spend more time in. Then I met my traveling partner, who is equally curious about spending time in countries other than Bolivia, and I’ve met fabulous, happy, fulfilled friends of all ages who’ve never been and have no desire to go to Bolivia – and they’re nothing like my aunt! I suddenly realized, in my mid-late 30s, that it *is* possible to live a good life outside of Bolivia.
So now I’m quite happy to live in my own land, and travel, and drop by and visit friends and family in Bolivia. My poor mother – who grew up demanding that I never, ever even think of going to Bolivia without all of the proper paperwork, i’s dotted, t’s crossed – is now begging and pleading with me to go by any means possible. But it’s not going to happen, and I’m happy with that.
Thank you SO SO SO much for writing this post. I have dealt with criticism from my mother for YEARS concerning the fact that I have never wanted to move to Bolivia. I considered it for maybe five seconds, but I soon realized that the only reason I was even considering it was because it was being drilled into my head that moving to Bolivia was something that ALL WOMEN HAD TO DO. She also gave me the “When you’re older you’ll want to move to Bolivia” speech, and even though I’m only 21, I know for a fact that I would never want to do so. I have never felt drawn to Bolivia, not without outside provocation or force. My life’s desires have nothing to do with Bolivia, and I will be perfectly happy in life without ever moving there.
Thank you.
I have tried to understand Bolivia for the sake of my friends who moved there or wanted to. I have failed, and it has felt like failure.
Even thought I’m happy without Bolivia, and I’m right, for me.
I don’t agree with the assertion that the whole culture supports one “choice” over the other. Move to Bolivia, and some of your old friends will suddenly drop you. They’ll tell you your new friends are not welcome, sight unseen, or badmouth them to your face. Some people will act like you aren’t even there, while others will come up and start offering personal questions and unsolicited advice. Some will tell you that you have ruined your life and everyone else’s, because Bolivia is such a drain on the global ecology that nobody else’s choices matter, apparently. Nobody will tell your story, in literature, movies, or TV, except as comedy. Characters like you will only appear as antagonists or figures of fun.
Maybe the real problem isn’t whether a woman moves to Bolivia or not, but whether or not she’s a woman. That is, if you are female, people automatically assume it’s ok to mind your business. People, including other women.
Do you think we could stop doing that to each other?
I’m one of the “lucky” ones for whom the decision not to go to Bolivia was a choice. When I was a young girl, I was often sent for vacation there. I had two younger siblings and my mom wasn’t able to spend as much time in Bolivia as she had wanted. But we were of a socio-religious set that indicated all women ultimately desired and would be required to go to Bolivia, so it was OK to let your “eldest” daughter visit, even when she was quite young. By the time I was about 11 I had tired of Bolivia and knew it wasn’t for me. Other than sometimes stopping there for a little bit of extra cash, I stayed away. I’ve been scrupulous about avoiding travel sites when vulnerable, because frankly, even just *getting* to Bolivia terrifies me. As it becomes less and less likely that I might wind up accidentally in Bolivia, I begin to wonder if I might not have hated it less as an adult, with the means and authority to go where I wanted in Bolivia – to travel in my own way, to actually become a Citizen – rather than to only experience the watered-down temporary Bolivian hostel us young Bolivia visitors were relegated to. Certainly my friends who are living in Bolivia are enjoying themselves a great deal and seem to make the most of it. I like hearing from them about Bolivia, mostly because they can always put their experience into the context of the greater world. And how sad it would be if they never got to Bolivia! I think it would make South America a lesser place if they had never arrived there.
As I get closer to no longer being allowed Citizenship in Bolivia, I become more ambivalent, but still don’t regret not going to Bolivia – I have so many other places I’ve always wanted to visit that no longer being vehemently anti-Bolivia does not make me immediately book a trip. I’m busy doing other things.
I… Okay.
Once upon a time, I wanted to move to Bolivia.
Hell, I even moved to Panama with a guy I fell in love with on the mutual assumption/belief that we would, eventually, settle further south.
But (can I even do this and keep the metaphor intact?) it didn’t go so well.
The guy I was in love with, it turned out, had wanted our stop in Panama to be a brief one. A couple of months at most. Whereas I’d figured we’d be there for years, still doing a lot of the things we did up north, getting our Panama citizenship in order, setting ourselves up, and maybe getting to know people who were already in Bolivia so that we could visit them regularly and get a feel for life in SA.
He pressured me – a lot – to start packing, and really didn’t like the long-distance bills I was racking up talking on the phone with my friends – most of whom were still quite happily in my country-of-origin (although some were in Panama with us, and one or two were on their way to Bolivia).
He once asked me what I’d do if I found myself accidentally on a plane headed for Cochabamba. He didn’t like my answer, which more or less involved hijacking the flight and turning around, whether he liked it or not.
Oh, for a while, I still believe I wanted to move to Bolivia. Just, y’know, not yet.
But the arguments we were having about it, and the realization that I was terribly lonely and increasingly culture-shocked in Panama and, on top of this, was thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t have moved to Panama at nearly so inexperienced an age, or with the person I’d moved with…
I tried to negotiate something that would work.
I suggested that, provided I could also keep a house in Panama with someone else, and make frequent trips back north on my own, I’d be okay with moving to Bolivia with him.
Haha. No dice.
Long-story-short, I moved the hell back north, and have never been happier.
Last I heard, he’d swung by the states for a short period of time, but has since moved back to Panama with someone new. Whether they end up moving to Bolivia or not isn’t really something I think about.
As for myself…
I’ve discovered that I only really daydream about moving to Bolivia when I start thinking about permanence with the people with-whom I’ve agreed to never-move-to-panama (although possibly the EU might be acceptable, given the multi-country passports they have), let alone Bolivia.
Ten years ago, I wanted BADLY to move to Bolivia. But I think a lot of that had to do with the idea that I probably wouldn’t move to Bolivia without a stop-over in Panama first and, additionally… Honestly, from here it looks like everyone who decides “Bolivia! That’s where I’m going!” they love it. They find such happiness and completeness there.
And I’d been taught all my life to assume that “completeness” meant,/i> Panama, meant setting up house in Bolivia.
And I had so little sense of self, so little understanding of what a whole “me” looked like, that I was using Bolivia, and everything that I assumed came with it (the good stuff and the bad stuff), as a place-holder for what I needed to be complete.
Which, as it turns out, doesn’t look anything like Bolivia.
I need my winter to happen in December-January-February-March. And I never did get the hang of speaking Spanish.
I know I’m much happier here, and intend to stay here.
Yeah, sometimes there’s a little bit of regret for What Might Have Been.
But a lot of that, I put down to having been culturally indoctrinated to believe that (1) Bolivia = Permanence, (2) Once a woman has moved to Bolivia, her entire life falls into place, and (3) family only counts as family if it’s built on Bolivian soil, according to the Bolivian model.
I mean, most of my social circles are made up of people who, historically, have been refused entry at the Bolivian border (although it’s been easier for us to get into Bolivia than Panama, I’ll grant you that) and who are also, individually, more concerned with living an independent, artistic life which, really, is hard to do once one has moved to Bolivia. Still possible. But much harder.
Consequently, few of us are considering Bolivia all that much. Which definitely helps cut down on the social pressure to pack up and move. Similarly, due to the historical tendency for People Like Me to be classified as unfit for Bolivian citizenship, people go “Oh! You’re from *Canada*.” And mostly assume I’m never going to move.
It’s kind of a relief. (Seriously. When I was in Panama? My various relatives (old and new) kept joking about when we were going to get our plane tickets. It was actually really uncomfortable. Go figure. :-P)
Don’t get me wrong.
I adore my friends who have moved there and delight in visiting them, eating the food and checking out the culture.
But I find that, for me, Bolivia is more of a personal metaphor for desired permanence than an actual destination.
And the more I understand myself, the more complete I feel and the better I understand the shape of the bits I have yet to find… the less my reality resembles Bolivia and the more it resembles the life I’m living now.
Twitter: green_minds
I’m one of the people who really wants to go to Bolivia, and who’s finding it complicated. I can’t catch a non-stop flight with my prefered travel partner, so we have to find other people to go in on a ticket with us, and probably take a ship or hire a private plane.
It’s important to me that going to Bolivia is a choice, but not in the way you’re using the word. It doesn’t have to be a strongly considered choice–going or not going to Bolivia doesn’t need to be an agonizing decision or central to one’s identity. There are so many things that can be done in any country, that may be more important or difficult choices.
But there was a time when almost every woman was forced to go to Bolivia. At a certain age, you would get handed a ticket and shoved in line, and only a few had a medical excuse to avoid travel or found a way to sneak off the plane. And when people see me hustling for a ticket, it’s very important to me that they know I’m *not* in favor of going back to the old system. And when I finally get to Bolivia, I want people on the street there to assume that I really want to be there and love the country.
So that’s what supporting your choice means to me–not that it has to be central to your identity not to be Bolivian, or that you had to stay up late wracking your brain about the pros and cons of emigration. Just that, if you didn’t want to go, you didn’t have to.
.-= R. Emrys´s last post … Letter Sent to Wiscon Con Committee =-.
I don’t live in Bolivia either. Never been. Never even visited. Never considered visiting.
Insofar as choice is concerned, I feel I choose not to live in Bolivia in the same way that I choose not to gamble or hit myself on the head with a hammer. I support other people’s right to live in Bolivia. Hell, in a few cases, I even endorse a person’s right to live in Bolivia. Just ain’t for me.
In other words: what you said. I guess I’m lucky, though. I’ve only ever caught grief about it from one or two people, neither of whose opinions rank very high in my esteem. If I could, I would offer you my apparent immunity from evangelism and condolences.
Though I never felt any particular longing to go to Bolivia, it felt like a benediction when one of the first things my mother in law said when she realized her son and I were in love and contemplating a life together, was, “You’re not planning to go to Bolivia, are you?” I fell in love with her, too, right then. I occasionally wonder what life is like in Bolivia, and some people I’ve seen there seem so happy and content and settled that I think for a second that I want to apply for my passport, but then I realize that I want the feeling of being settled, not that I want to be in Bolivia. The rest of the world is waiting for me to go and see it.
I love this metaphor. I tried to want to go to Bolivia when I was married in my 20s; it turned out to be for the best that I never made the trip, however, as I was very definitely married to the wrong person and have since rethought the issue.
I have chosen not to go to Bolivia, after a lot of thought and consideration and self-searching. I never wanted to go to Bolivia as a child, and was puzzled by the notion that others could be so sure they did want to go there that they were already planning their trips; choosing not to go to Bolivia is being true to myself, I now believe, and my 20something self was trying to fit into the societal mould that told me I should want to be Bolivia-bound.
I like people who have gone to Bolivia, and am thrilled for them when it’s a dearly wanted dream fulfilled, but it’s not right for me to go there myself.
Havi–this post has been made a Particle on Making Light! http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/
Twitter: nicolemarree
I grew up being told that people who never moved to Bolivia were destined to remain shallow, superficial and selfish. I had an aunt who never moved to Bolivia, never found a travelling companion and by all appearances seemed pretty OK with that…but her choice to stay outside Bolivia seemed to provoke a lot of judgement, and a special brand of acidic ‘sympathy’. Let’s call that acidic sympathy ‘condemnation’. The street I grew up on in Bolivia had a lot of churches on it. Strangely, there were no churches around before we all moved to Bolivia.
My own parents had a rough and difficult journey to Bolivia that lasted for about 4 years, and it was only by a miracle akin to Jesus walking on water that their boat even pulled into the harbour at Bolivia. Because of her own problems getting to Bolivia, my mother has always encouraged me and my younger sister to set off for Bolivia at a reasonably early age, although never without a travelling companion, and never without having secured a permanent commitment from said travelling companion. My younger sister has been happy to abide by the rules and regulations set out in our well-meaning corner of Bolivia, but I’ve found myself reviewing the legislation many times, scratching my head and saying to myself, ‘Huh? This just doesn’t make any sense…’
It seems the older I get, the more I want to delay moving to Bolivia, even if that may mean never moving there at all. Having just turned 30, I’ve had a few people comment that I’ll likely start yearning to move to Bolivia very soon. Maybe I will. I don’t know. I do know that I’ll regret it if I move to Bolivia at the expense of learning and experiencing everything I can about the Middle East first.
The only thing I’m even semi-sure of is that I’d like a travelling companion. Not a travelling companion who keeps asking, ‘Are we going to Bolivia soon? Now? Now? How about now?’ or keeps looking over my shoulder at Bolivia in the distance, but a travelling companion who simply thinks I am enough, Bolivia or no.
.-= Nicole Marree´s last post … Snowball habits =-.
*applause*
I am older than you and have never felt the pull to move either. I used to get angry at all the condescending little remarks and judgments, but now that I’m over 40, people seem not to expect me to move anymore. Also, I’ve been lucky enough to have friends who have moved to Bolivia who still love me and can talk about things other than Bolivia and have no issues with the fact that I never wanted to move there.
Terrific job writing this!
[...] No kids. I had a hysterectomy when I was 28. Best thing ever. I never had any desire to “go to Bolivia” as Havi metaphorically puts it- so all it meant for me was no more “that time of the [...]
I got it right off, because sometimes you are on your way and you get rerouted to Holland.
http://www.our-kids.org/Archives/Holland.html
.-= Miss Cellania´s last post … Shopping for a Spouse =-.
Twitter: clvrmnky
Statistically speaking, very few of us actually choose to move to Bolivia. More often we win a free trip to Bolivia at an unexpected time. That catch, of course, is that the trip includes only a one-way ticket.
So there really is a choice here. Just not the one people ostensibly talk about.
The real choice is whether to cancel the trip, or fulfil some of the requirements to validate the trip and then give it to someone else. So, it’s more like Bolivia chooses you (or someone like you.)
This is how I’ve understood the use of the rubric “choice” in this context.
Of course, many of us are asked early on if we would like to move there, and most of the time a non-committal answer is all that is required; I mean, everyone knows Bolivia will always be there if you want to go.
But, we are exposed to the idea of moving there early on.
I myself had pretty much made up my mind that Bolivia just wasn’t for me, for various reasons. Moving there was not high on our list of things to do, but of course the cosmic joke is that the more content you are with your current locale the greater the chance (barring immigration issues that some folks have) of winning that free one-way trip to Bolivia.
So, having moved to Bolivia, I can concur that it was not so much a choice as it was a trip taken; suddenly moving to Bolivia became an easy thing to do, and the other choices (because, of course, there is always a choice) seemed more radical than accepting that free trip.
I think the hardest part of being in Bolivia for me is being around Bolivians who think that the only country I should be interested in is Bolivia, and the people not in Bolivia who assume because I am there I am not interested in, Greece, say. Or Czechoslovakia.
I once had a woman who, upon hearing I was a Bolivian, sniffed “I could never move there!” and turn on her heel and walk away. Which was a shame, because up to that point we had been having a lovely conversation about Fiji.
This was a wonderful post – made it really easy to put my feelings into thoughts and my thoughts into words. Such beautiful writing…
I never wanted to go to Bolivia when I was young. I had a vague idea that Bolivia existed, and that people must go there sometimes otherwise it would be empty, but I never bothered to consider thinking about it myself.
Now i have a partner and he is really eager to go to Bolivia, and I’ve started thinking about it, and considering it, and I think I’ll quite enjoy it there, although i know it will be strange and scary and will take us a while to settle in.
My mum does not want me to go. She’s worried I won’t be able to find work while I’m out there. She’s worried that I’ll forget all my dreams and hopes and just settle down as a good Bolivian.
I’m both excited and terrified about going now, but it’s a good few years in the future. Currently me and my partner are saving up because apparently BOlivia is not cheap.
.-= Lab Rat´s last post … Throat bacteria that destroy invaders =-.
[...] 8th – Bolivia. -Not musical at all, and totally worth the read. Have you gone to Bolivia? Are you planning to? Who [...]
Thank you. Just thank you.
Also, I actively did not want to go to Bolivia and then I found out that I can”t. What bothers me about not being able to go to Bolivia is not being unable to migrate but that people imply, in their conversations with me, that I am less of a person, less of a partner, less of a citizen…
As a 33-year-old man who is yet to seriously consider the Bolivia Tourism brochure (or even considered asking about it at the travel agent), I’m immensely grateful for this post (and its comments). It boils down to the difference between:
- decide not to
- not decide to
Far more eloquently put by the author. Next time I get a cabbie like I had the other day trying to convince me otherwise, I’ll hand him this URL.
Thanks. A lot.
Can I be the 191st person to tell you that this is an amazing essay? I will probably point to it at Body Impolitic in the next few days.
Twitter: nylorac15
I was linked over here from Shakesville. Such a fantastic metaphor, thank you. My feelings on the matter are somewhat rare, I think. I love Bolivians, intensely, and would love to *be* in Bolivia, but the immigration process feels entirely not worth it. If there were an instant teleport to Bolivia, I’d be first in line.
This is further complicated by the fact that my wife wants desperately to move there herself, but her passport will never be approved. It brings her daily pain and anguish that this can never be. I frequently find myself thinking that, if I could only give her my completely valid passport, we could both be happy. I sometimes wonder if I should take one for the team, suck it up and go, but would that make her feel even worse, now that I get to be in this place she so wants to be with every fiber of her being? I don’t know.
Thank you so much for inspiring this thought process for me, and for the other commenters for your contributions as well. <3
Almost exactly two years ago I bought my ticket to Bolivia – and canceled the trip very soon after. That was an easy choice to make and one I’d make again just as easily. I don’t really care for Bolivia, even short visits. I’ve noticed I avoid Bolivians, like maybe Bolivia is contageous and catching.
But will I stay away from Bolivia forever? Maybe someday I’ll want it and be able to make it work. Maybe not. I dunno. We’ll see.
.-= Cate´s last post … Romance Recap- Perfect =-.
I was recently talking about Bolivia with my best friend. She and her SO are making a permanent arrangement out of their relationship and they want to go to Bolivia someday. She didn’t mention when and I didn’t push because they’ll let me know when they take the trip (she was forced to cancel a trip to Bolivia when we were in college and it was very, very hard for her). And I will be super happy for them when they head off to Bolivia because I love Bolivians. Seriously. Honest to goodness, deep down love. I am actually going back to school so that I can get a degree and teach Bolivians. But I don’t really want to live in Bolivia. I have no real reasons, I just don’t want to go. It’s exactly what you mentioned, I didn’t make a choice because I didn’t realize that I needed to.
And I think I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways when it comes to where I live and who I associate with. My family (aside from my very elderly, senile Jewish grandmother) has never pressured me about going to Bolivia. My friends could care less one way or another as some have been to Bolivia, some have not, some want to go, others went once and have sworn that it is the only time they will ever go (one even canceled her passport so she can’t go again) and some are considering Bolivians without the actual trip (my folks never went to Bolivia cause my mom was unable to get a passport, so I have lots of info on that particular endeavor).
I’ve read through so many of the comments and have found so many interesting stories: people who want but can’t get to Bolivia, people in Bolivia and loving it, people who got to Bolivia after their traveling companion but falling in love with being there, those who don’t want to go to Bolivia, people whose trip got canceled, people who are lonely in Bolivia and more. It’s fantastic to see the warm and open and honest communication that is so frequently lost in the digital world. This was a wonderful post and I’m glad you were able to so eloquently express some of the same ideas that I have rolling around in my head.
I had always heard that when I got older I would change my mind and develop a desire to move to Bolivia. And in fact, that happened, but my desire to move lasted about a year, and then I went back to feeling ambivalent about it. Yeah, no one ever seems to acknowledge that possibility, that even if this supposedly biologically imperative desire does occur, it may not be all that strong or permanent. I know I will live a happy life if I never see Bolivia, but if the desire to go ever returns and sticks, I’d be up for that too.
I’m currently on the slow boat to Bolivia, and arriving at this mystical place in May is, quite frankly, freaking me out. The voyage is long and hard and only Cheezits can bring me solace, and there is a part of me that wonders if I really want to emigrate, and if I’m ready for it. My husband is born to be Bolivian. Part of me feels like I’m emigrating because it’s what I’m supposed to do. My mother never got to visit Bolivia herself, just vicariously through a travel agent, so part of me wonders if I’m doing this for her.
I’m so glad that for the stories here, about Bolivians and Non-Bolivians. That it’s okay to feel the way I feel — that it’s okay to have *any* opinion of Bolivia, because it’s such a complex place that we don’t *have* to visit. I’m torn about Bolivia, especially since I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete my studies as an international student in Bolivia, but I have to try. Because, once you’re on the boat, you really can’t go back, and even though I planned this trip for a long time, I’m glad to know that it’s okay to second-guess myself.
Or I could always blame it on the sea-sickness. I hope I hit smoother waters soon.
I’m not sure how I’m feeling about moving to Bolivia. I’ve never had that deep pull myself to move there, but in the absence of nagging relatives and the TV and news articles, I don’t have any particular revulsion against living there (all the messages saying that you! must! move! to! Bolivia! OR ELSE! sort of makes me dig my heels in and say No, I don’t want to). The trip on the other hand? Nooooo thank you!
My travelling companion and I are of the age where our friends are moving to Bolivia or beginning to plan their trips. I don’t mind llamas–indeed, I’m rather fond of the ones that my friends have–but I find the thought of having my own, of packing up everything and moving, to be simply terrifying.
I know my companion has started to think about maybe moving, and I know he’d make a great Bolivian, so I feel guilty that the thought of the trip mostly inspires fear. And it’s not like once you move to Bolivia, that you can move right back if you decide that you made a mistake, that you really don’t like llamas after all and the weather is terrible and you’d really rather just move back home and pretend the move never happened. It’s a permanent decision–even when you can leave Bolivia, you still will have been marked and changed because you went.
I always thought I’d move to Bolivia. Maybe get a really big place there. But after a divorce and a long single hood before love came back to my life, I never went. I didnt want to go by myself and I never met another to go with until it was too late. Around age 40 I saw the ultimatum: either move to Bolivia now or dont ever. So I chose to stay and not go to Bolivia. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I did. But I like my life here, easy, simple and based on my desires. I will not be moving to Bolivia and I am content with that.
Twitter: rosefox
This is really awesome.
My partner’s grandmother once tried to pay us $500 to move to Bolivia and live on a street with a particular name. We found ways to say “That’s so nice of you!” without ever quite coming out and saying that there is no way in hell we’re ever living on any street in Bolivia at all.
When a friend of my mother’s found out that we weren’t planning to move to Bolivia, he said, “If my kids said that, I wouldn’t stand for it!” My mother politely pointed out the impossibility of bundling us onto a plane, getting us through immigration, etc. against our will. I love my mother. She really wants reasons to visit Bolivia again, because she loved it so much when she lived there, but she also understands that I didn’t inherit her passionate desire to be there and she’s come to terms with it. And I have friends in Bolivia now, so she visits them with me sometimes and that works out very well.
For that matter, I really like visiting my friends who live in Bolivia, and sometimes they help me and my partner arrange little vacations there. We’re always so glad to come home, though. My friend D. housesat for our friend S. in Bolivia for several months while S. was in the army. I think D. had a good time–it’s a lovely house–but she came home swearing that she would never EVER move to Bolivia now. I get so tired of people saying that you don’t know what Bolivia is really like until you move there for real. I don’t need to know what it’s really like to know that it’s not for me.
.-= Rose Fox´s last post … Award News =-.
[...] And when she writes “Bolivia,” she means…. Every woman has her own experience, her own relationship with moving or not moving to Bolivia. These relationships are often painful, challenging, hard to express. [...]
oh thank you. i’ve never felt the bolivian urge either. i love love my bolivian friends, and if it were a place you could visit twice a year, I’d be in, it sounds like fun for a few days. But it’s not something I feel like I need, in any way. I’m 30, and people still tell me i’ll get the urge too late and regret the “choice.” I won’t, please stop implying that I’m damaged, because I’m not.
Anyway, not sure how I missed this first time around, but thanks for posting the link because it was good for my soul on a Friday morning. Now – if only I could find a place to meet the nice men who also don’t want to go to bolivia, that would be swell. Cause that’s an urge I *do* still have. :)
Twitter: ruthbeingruth
Thanks for writing this. I love some of the ways you put things and I may use them when discussing Bolivia down the road. I’ve never really considered moving to Bolivia, so I don’t feel comfortable calling myself Bolivia-free. It makes no sense.
I’m neither Bolivia-free nor Bolivia-less. I’m just not there. I’m elsewhere. It’s an entirely neutral state of being. My husband & I occasionally call it “non-Boliviad.” I’m happy some of my friends have moved there so I can experience it vicariously, but sharing their joy hasn’t even made me sit down & give it serious thought.
Could that change? Sure. One of my friends recently turned 36 and she and her boyfriend decided that Bolivia was not in the plan. Another suddenly wanted to go…and did. Boom. Can’t rule out I’ll be one of them.
Anyway, thanks for writing this, as so many other women have said…it’s a great take on the whole Bolivia issue.
.-= Ruth´s last post … Read This Before Ordering Battlestar Galactica Personalized Dog Tags from QMX =-.
At 36 I am wondering if I will ever go to Bolivia. I have never wanted to travel there alone and haven’t found a suitable travelling partner, so at the moment I feel like the choice has been taken away from me. Whilst I don’t feel a desperate need to go there, I constantly fear that I will regret not visiting.
Interestingly, on a post on metafilter (which led me to this post) someone suggested that not getting yourself into the right circumstances to decide whether to get on the plane is in itself a decision not to travel. I had never thought about it this way and am sure I will be thinking about it more over the next few days.
I think my feelings about Bolivia are complicated by watching my grandmother and how much she relies on her only Bolivian, and whilst I realise it is not itself a good reason to go to Bolivia – or a guarantee that you will stay on good terms with your Bolivians into your old age – I do worry how I would cope in her position without any Bolivians to help me. I know it sounds selfish but it scares me. I have no idea what the answer is to this.
Fabulous post, thanks Havi!
I am not physically capable of moving to Bolivia, as someone else said I don’t have a valid passport. My husband found out a former one-time travel partner moved to Bolivia without telling him until she’d been there three years and run out of money to live off down there. Now he pays for her stay there.
Neither of us really wanted to move to Bolivia, but mostly we tell people we’ll probably take in some Bolivian refugees on a temporary basis sometime in the future when we’re financially able to support Bolivian refugees. That usually shuts people up. We’re not actually certain we intend to do that, it’s just become something we say to people who ask us why we’ve never been to Bolivia. However, we shouldn’t have to. It shouldn’t be an automatic question. “Hey, been to Bolivia? No? Well, do you want to? No? Why?” I love this post. There should be an anti-Bolivia for all of us to live and hang out together.
.-= LilyFyrestorm´s last post … Beaches II- Ill Be There by Iris Rainer Dart =-.
I’m 36 and knew I didn’t want to go to Bolivia by age 15. At 33, I had surgery done that made it physically impossible to ever go to Bolivia, and I’ve never looked back.
Also, I think this post made me fall in love with you. :)
Twitter: sherronann
I can’t believe I missed this post. Where was I in August?? Anyway…Now that I’m in my 40s, people don’t ask me anymore if I’m going to Bolivia and if not, why not. That’s something you can look forward to!
I always thought I’d go to Bolivia, but never made any specific travel plans because I never had any burning desire to go. I guess I just figured when the burning desire hit me, I’d make plans, and it never did, so I didn’t.
What bothers me most about people who have moved to Bolivia is they often say, “Until I moved to Bolivia, my life didn’t have a purpose. Now my life has meaning.” I take offense to that!! By implication, they’re saying that since I didn’t move to Bolivia, my life has no purpose, no meaning. That’s a very hurtful thing to say. What I think they mean to say is, “Wow. Huge responsibility, this little Bolivian! But I’m embracing that responsibility and I’m happy about it.”
And then there are the people who assume that my dogs are substitute Bolivians and that’s not even close to being true. I just like dogs more than I like most people, Bolivian or not.
.-= Sherron´s last post … An early dose of holiday blahs- with a spoonful of hope =-.
I don’t want to go to Bolivia, mostly. Most of the time, I’m adamantly against moving that far. It’s too crowded there, I’m not that fond of Bolivians, and I just have terrible jeans.
But once in awhile, I feel the urge to go. I entertain the notion for a day or week and then say, “No, not for me”. I can never admit that to my friends and especially family, lest they all try to vehemently sell the trip to me. It disturbs me I have to avoid saying maybe, kinda of, might to avoid the Bolivian rabies many people I know seem to have.
[...] Bolivia – A really good post on the subject of reproduction. [...]
Not female, but have often been mistaken for it on the internet (who knows why?).
I thought about the whole Bolivian questions a long time ago, and concluded that I’d be fine not moving there. A decision which, yes, gets less flak if you’re male. (Apart from the occasional “Oh, you’d make a great Bolivian.” Um, I checked my psychology and no, I wouldn’t.)
I’m more than happy for other people to make up their own minds about Bolivia. I have a brother and partner who moved there a couple of years back. I have another brother and wife who might be considering it. I have cousins there. But it’s not for me. I was there once on visa when I met my first gf, who’d already lived there quite a while, but it never really had an effect on me.
If a partner of mine expressed a sudden interest in moving there, I would support them completely, wish them the best of luck, and even assist in finding them someone to move there with, if they wanted. But me? Happy where I am, thanks all the same.
A friend of mine e-mailed me a link to this post, so here I am. (I have to say, as someone with a graduate degree that encompasses metaphorics, this post thrilled me in a way that very few things ever do.)
I have known from a very early age that I never wanted to even go anywhere near Bolivia. Even when I was a little girl, when the *other* little girls were dressing up in Bolivian costumes and playing with toy llamas and practicing their Spanish, I was playing with die-cast airplanes and writing stories. Once when I was about two years old, I got a toy llama, and I turned to my parents and said, “Oh, yuck, a llama! Just what I never wanted!”
I’m happy living here in Canada. We’re solitary by nature and we like our personal space, and we like getting deeply devoted to our work, in a non-exuberant kind of way. Bolivians are too hot-blooded and up-close-and-personal for my taste. Also, even though I like to travel, I am a difficult person to travel with because I am so solitary and introverted (and I can’t stick to a tour itinerary worth a damn because I’m always getting distracted by something I think is more interesting than what I’m supposed to be doing), and you can’t get to Bolivia without a sponsor anyway. Which is fine with me; I’ve never much been interested in going. I halfway considered moving to Israel for a while, but then I changed my mind, and for right now I’m really enjoying being Canadian. Fall is a great time to be Canadian anyway; if I had to move, I’d miss the topaz-blue skies and scenery that just begs to be photographed…
I unexpectedly won a trip to Bolivia six years ago now, but I had to cancel. I mean, I was totally not ready and it was just not appropriate to pack up and leave right then. Plus my (now official) travel partner was fairly new then and, well, we didn’t really know if we wanted to commit to a trip to Bolivia. I hear it’s pretty hard to get back once you move there.
I’ll be 30 shortly and I’ve never felt that burning desire to move to Bolivia. I mean, I like the idea of taking the trip and going through immigration, and I like the idea of being settled there because it sounds like a pretty amazing country even with the ups & downs, but at the same time, that settling in period over the first two to three years doesn’t make me jump for joy. I hate packing. Moving’s not bad once you’re done, but having to unpack and figure out where to put everything just sucks.
I’ll probably end up moving to Bolivia, but only if the opportunity arises in the next five years. My understanding is that it’s pretty difficult to move to Bolivia after 35 and honestly, if I haven’t moved to Bolivia by then, then I’m perfectly happy to stay where I’m at and travel to different places.
What irks me is that when I talk about how I don’t want to move to Bolivia after 35, I have to hear (even from my travel partner) about how that’s irrational and how plenty of people move there when they’re older and adapt perfectly well and have normal llamas. Well that’s great for them, but I don’t want to retire IN Bolivia. After about 15 years Bolivia can get even more expensive than it already is and I do have other places I want to visit. I don’t want to move to Bolivia late and then not be able to go anywhere else.
My wife keeps saying we should go to Bolivia, but she agrees it may be for the wrong reasons. She’s stubborn, you see, which is sometimes a good thing, and sometimes not so much.
She’s had medical issues for a while, and the doctors tell her she may not be able to make the trip without major assistance. This gets her dander up, and when she talks about going to Bolivia, she focuses less on how wonderful life is supposed to be there or how happy the other folks are who have gone, and more on how wonderful of a Bolivian she thinks I’d make, and how she owes it to her parents to go.
Her only sibling (and older sister) is unlikely to make the trip either, so she feels that it’s up to her. Apparently, not only has her mother visited Bolivia, but her mother’s mother also — and so on, for as many generations as I’ve been able to track. So my wife has imposed this pressure on herself despite not being a big fan of Bolivian food, or Bolivian sports, or the lack of regular naps for adults in the Bolivian culture.
Me, I could take or leave Bolivia, except for the part where I’m not sure we have the resources to see my wife’s favorite doctors while learning a new language. Plus she’d have to lay off some of her more useful medications during the first few months of the trip. And I’d want us to have greater motivations than my indifference and her trying to fulfill the (perceived) expectations of other people before we go to all the trouble of packing and hopping on the plane.
I think if there weren’t any hurdles to her making the Bolivia trip, she’d probably choose not to make it, but since the universe is trying to make the decision for her, she’s finding it pretty hard to throw away the brochures.
This is a beautiful post. Thank you!
I had never wanted to go to Bolivia. Then one day I thought it might be nice, and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane to Bolivia! When I told my friends, some were overly excited, and one said “Cool. When I was 19, I got myself deported from Bolivia, because I knew I would never want to go there.” My response was “Cool. How did you do it? I have a friend that wants to be deported from Bolivia, but can’t find someone to help until she has been there at least twice.” Everyone else was shocked. How could we be so blase about going to Bolivia!? They didn’t realize that each of us, Bolivia-bound and Bolivia-less, were happy in our own states of being, and weren’t offended by each other’s differences. Then, of course, there were those completely appalled that I would move to Bolivia alone… but that’s a different subject. :)
I can never fly to Bolivia. It isn’t a choice or anything. I just wouldn’t survive the trip, and if I did get there, I’d be too sickly to enjoy the scenery for the time I had left. I may not arrive at all, and would just be sickly with no photos to show.
When I was younger, this didn’t bother me much. Now, it’s an ache I can’t heal. I wish I could go there too. I’m trapped here, and I can’t change it. I don’t have the money or the health.
I have many friends who are there already, and a fiance who desperately wants to go, but I just can’t handle the flight. My health is poor, you see. He won’t leave me, and I can’t fly. It makes him sad.
I wish I could.
Lately, my two best friends have come forward and are doing their best to get me boat tickets instead of plane tickets, so that I can live with them. They’d take the flight, and I would meet them in Bolivia. I won’t have taken the flight, but I’d be there.
Some folks are kind enough to fly for you.
I may not ever get to take that flight, but I’d be in Bolivia all the same.
I never thought much about Bolivia, that is not until Rotary International arranged for my daughter to visit Bolivia for exchange program schooling for a year.
Nine months later, based upon her and her host family’s urgings, we visited Bolivia (early 2003–pre-Morales) and have returned twice since.
Initially, it took me less than a week to overcome my US State Dept.-induced fears of all things Bolivian, and another week to fall in love with Bolivia and her amazingly varied climates, topographies and especially her incredibly forgiving, generous, courageous, hard-suffering and hard-working people.
What is most amazing to watch is the progress I’ve witnessed of Bolivians gradually overcoming the oppression they have suffered until recently, especially the oppressive pillaging of the last 500 years.
They have a long way to go, but they will ‘make it’, despite a multi-generational-entrenched oligarchy fed by many millions of US taxpayer dollars spent to infiltrate Bolivian movements and other attempts to defeat Morales’ peaceful communitarian-socialist movement.
Since Morales’ election, the changes he has helped implement have been beneficial to all but those who previously benefited from positions of Spanish/Catholic/corporate/US (Monroe Doctrine-driven) overt and covert corruption, influence and power. (Think–Bolivian military/police: SOA/WHINSEC grads, and think also of the Catholic/corporate-controlled media–almost 100% against Morales’ efforts.)
Now I think of little else, including the possible application of the emerging Bolivian way of life and the potential application of those lessons to others whose governments/ways of life are even less-sustainable, especially when the effects of peak oil/over-population really hit.
In this life-aspect, Bolivia might prove to be way ahead of the rest of the world–exciting times indeed.
I can’t wait to return, perhaps next time to stay–if they’ll let me.
locoto
“I’m likely telling you something you already know, but instead of defining yourself as where you don’t live, how about defining yourself as where you DO? :)”
For the most part, it isn’t us non-Bolivians who define ourselves this way. It’s just that so many pushy Bolivians insist on seeing it this way. The world really upholds Bolivia as the ultimate destination to the point where there is Bolivia and there’s everything else. People even think if you’re not with Bolivia, then you’re against it!
Also, Bolivia is so hard to avoid that managing not to go there can really be seen as an accomplishment in its own right. I’ve known since early childhood that I did not want to go to Bolivia, but since most doctors are Bolivian, they felt like they knew what was best when it comes to Bolivian citizenship.
I have been trying to get to Bolivia for years. (I have an entire blog about it, in fact.) It’s becoming more and more clear that I will never get there, and it is the hardest thing I have ever had to accept.
I feel that pull. I want to be there. I burst into tears when others talk about what it’s like there in the summer.
And yet everyone around me tells me how smart I am, how brave I am, how unique and focused I am, and what a good “decision” it was not to go there.
Again with this “choice” business. If I had my choice I would have arrived there years ago.
.-= gingerandlime´s last post … this is going to be loud =-.
[...] Bolivia This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. ← this is going to be loud [...]
I’m someone who has been yanked around by my feelings towards Bolivia. Most of my life, like you, I had no desire whatsoever to go to Bolivia. I didn’t even think there was anything remotely appealing about Bolivians, what with all the bodily fluids and all (I still feel this way for the most part). Moreover, I simply never thought about a trip to Bolivia.
Then one day at the age of 32, I woke up suddenly DESPERATE to go to Bolivia. I bought a ticket and boarded the boat. My boat sank and I swam back to shore, even MORE desperate to get to Bolivia than ever.
I bought another ticket and again, my boat sank, again I swam back to shore. This time I was certain that all my boats were defective, and I may never get to Bolivia. That REALLY made me desperate to see Bolivia, and boy was I jealous of women with less rickety boats!!!
The third time, I had to wait an agonizingly long time for a ticket to Bolivia, and finally boarded the boat. As soon as the shores of my homeland were out of sight behind me, and I seemed to be truly on my way to Bolivia, I began to wonder why the hell I had ever wanted to go there in the first place???
I still am very much looking forward to Bolivia (not that I know what to expect), and should arrive there soon, but feel nothing like the desperation to get there that I felt prior to boarding this boat! I blame hormones for most of this whole Bolivia debacle that has taken up the last couple of years of my life!
Plus, I HATE the conversation on the boat– yes, we are clearly going to Bolivia. Do we have to talk about it ALL the time???
Now that I am 55, the question seems to be, “are you sorry you never moved to Bolivia?”
Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But, more importantly, why do people ask these questions? I’ve never understood the intrusiveness….
great post!
Twitter: blktauna
Interesting Post. Its nice to see not everyone immediately wants to move to Bolivia as if it’s just done and there’s no question.
I’ve always known I wouldn’t be going to Bolivia. Other places held much more interest. That and, well, I don’t have travel partners much and Bolivia’s not a place to go alone, so I haven’t really wasted much time on learning about it. Strangely, just because I’m a woman people think I know every aspect of planning a trip there. What’s that?
The mass exodus is a bit scary though. It’s like one plane is called the terminal is suddenly empty but for you.
[...] from this scary thing, but because it would also be a lot of fun to stop commuting in and out of Bolivia, renounce my dual citizenship once and for all. Yay! Funtimes! Except: money is in the way of that [...]
I hear you on the mass exodus/empty terminal thing. Sometimes I feel like I must be a foreign exchange student in Bolivia. I don’t know the language, I don’t understand the customs, and I’m frequently standing around awkwardly silent while surrounded by happy Bolivians talking about their llamas. Sometimes I try to fit in by talking about other people’s llamas, only to be told that it doesn’t count if they aren’t YOUR llamas. Man, I hate Bolivia. I don’t want to move there, but I feel so awkward for not wanting to.
I’ve never wanted to move there. I had a former travel partner who was very insistent about it, i.e. “WHEN we move to Bolivia,” even though I’d told him otherwise (and as it turned out, his travel visa got revoked. Oh, the irony.). He wouldn’t listen to me about that no and it was scary.
The nice thing about being single for a long time (I consider myself permanently single by now) is that people have a much harder time nagging you about moving to Bolivia when you don’t have a husband to get you a green card to move there, and you haven’t even been able to scare up a date in forever.
I think I’m the one who said on Metafilter that you make choices not to go there. Well, yeah. If you keep up your travel insurance and deliberately date people who also don’t want to go to Bolivia, that seems to me to be choosing otherwise. I think technically I fall into the “not a choice” category at this point because even if I wanted to move, I couldn’t find a guy to get me that visa. But since I don’t want to go, that’s fine with me. If I ever date again, I’ll have to have the Bolivia conversation again and dear god, I dread it. Especially since I’m over That Age and that will only up the Bolivia drama. Great.
[...] She is the queen of metaphor: moving to Bolivia? [...]
Twitter: yogachicky
My mother used to say that if you haven’t moved to Bolivia by a certain age then “there must be something wrong with you”. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to reprogram that thinking for myself. I don’t think I’m a native Bolivian at heart. I suspect I have more of a feeling for other places instead.
Still, the social anxiety gnaws at the edges of my life and I know my sister prays that one day soon I might soon join her in Bolivia. She has a very comfortable pad over there, all decked out these days. I’m happy for her but I’ve never once seen myself in the traditional Bolivian dress.
And that ceremonial outfit people wear to transition to becoming citizens of Bolivia? Yeah… gives me the creeps in some ways. Looks nice on others but for me? Naw…
Thanks for this lovely and inspiring piece which is, well… expressing a lot of things I’ve been working through in recent times. :)
[...] really like this post on the decision not to move to Bolivia, which I heartily sympathise [...]
Bolivia, huh? Yeah, I live there (sort of), but I’m not obsessed. Still, it’s a touchy subject.
It was never about choice. I’d considered going there, even discussed it at length with the spouse–our hopes, our concerns, our opinions on things like neighborhoods, etc.–but then my doctor told me that I’d probably never go to Bolivia. And, hey, that was okay, too, I was a little wistful, but also a little relieved; after all, it’s not like I could really afford to go to Bolivia.
But then I found myself on the way to Bolivia. Even though it was impossible, right? And I was more than a third of the way there, and not at all prepared, and had even been in the process of packing and moving somewhere else at the time. And it was awful, not having ‘chosen’ to go to Bolivia. But the spouse was supportive, although also uncertain, and the reality was not perfect, but live-withable.
Then spouse and I found out that we’d been fooled: for five years, we thought we’d been living in Bolivia, but we had really been living in Holland. (Google ‘Welcome to Holland.’) And that was a huge shock! And how could I not realize that I was in Holland? Well, I’d never been to either country, and I apparently ended up in some place without obvious signs, like tulips and windmills. And it was also a live-withable situation, with its troubling moments, but also its moments of joy and beauty. We lived there for eight years, mostly happily.
Then, unexpectedly, we got on the flight to Bolivia again. And ended up in Holland again. This time, I suspected right away that it was Holland; all those tulips were a dead giveaway. But I already knew quite a bit about Holland, so I didn’t panic. Still, it seems I moved from one town in Holland to another, with different ways and customs and even city streets that I get lost in sometimes. But after another seven years, there are still places to explore and things to do. Still, I try not to live and breathe Holland twenty-four/seven, either.
The biggest problem with Holland is knowing that no one is having the same experience. It’s very isolating. Those who went to Bolivia feel sorry for you. Those who never went to either Bolivia or Holland don’t really get it, although sometimes they try harder, possibly because I’ve always had this policy of “feel free to come over and visit my country; I promise to welcome you to stay as long as you like, but I also promise to not try to convince you to live here. Enjoy what we have to offer, and leave when you’re through.” Those who live in Holland are sometimes the hardest to deal with, because the all think their towns are the best and that their neighborhood associations have the right idea. Most of them do not live in the same part of Holland as I do, and I don’t want to relocate. I’m comfortable here.
I’m comfortable here. For me, it’s live-withable. But it was never a choice, and I will never presume to tell any other woman that this is where they belong, whether it be Bolivia or Holland. Maybe we all just end up more or less where we’re meant to be? Maybe not. But life is rarely about choices.
Twitter: mivox
ohmigoodnessYES.
When I was younger, I always assumed I’d go to Bolivia one day. I got married and my husband and I assumed we’d be going to Bolivia together. We separated, and my new boyfriend had already been to Bolivia with his ex-wife, so I figured it wouldn’t be necessary for me to go after all. And then we separated, and over the next year of singlehood, I realized I really had no real urge to go to Bolivia at all, and in fact, I’d rather get a dog, so that’s what I did.
There was never a major decision moment, no “choosing” or anything. It was just a realization of what I actually did or did not want to do with my life.
Five years later, and I have two dogs, still have never been to Bolivia, and have been happily goofing off with a man (who I *swear* is not my type) for four years now, who also doesn’t want to go to Bolivia. It’s funny, but absolutely NOTHING in my life is anything like I imagined it would be when I was a kid. And I’m generally quite happy with that.
Ok, so, I have never planned on going to Bolivia. Just wasn’t going. And now I find that someone has bought me a ticket without my permission. And… I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t do what I’ve always done and throw away the ticket because I really love the guy who would be going to Bolivia with me. And Bolivia doesn’t seem so remote and horrible with the idea of him going with me. But that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to go and didn’t plan on going and now have to rearrange my life entirely (which I don’t want to do). I don’t know how to deal with this forced immigration to Bolivia.
[...] Yep, here I am. Wanting to take a chance on myself. Strongly suspecting taking a chance will go okay. Intellectually I know I will be fine. I am always fine. Things, even scary OMGoodness-I-actually-did-that things, always turn out great for me. Dialysis for thirteen years? I learnt how to negotiate. I found a way to get most of my post-secondary education paid for because I was on dialysis. I used time on dialysis to write, relate and learn. It was also a very handy excuse to not be expected to do socially expected things like get intoxicated or move to Bolivia! [...]
Twitter: AnagramPress
I do feel a slight pull toward Bolivia (like a wimpy neap-tide kind of pull), and have agreed that I will move there someday for the time required by my visa and study abroad program, but I have stipulated that I will maintain a vacation home in the States. I am somewhat annoyed that my visa will expire eventually, though—I prefer to book my own flight, and ignore all those “Hurry—This Once-in-a-Lifetime Offer Ends Soon!” advertisements.
And I really, really hate the taste of Bolivian Kool-Aid (or is it Fanta?), so I don’t plan on drinking any—either before, during, or after my trip. I don’t like the effects Bolivian Kool-Aid could have on my conversation skills, and I really try to avoid processed food and powdered beverages anyway. So I’m going to have to plan ahead and pack my own lunches.
The thing that really gets to me, though, is how convinced so many naturalized Bolivians tell me they are that all of my quirks, convictions and general personal attributes will—poof!—disappear as soon as I cross the border. Oh, and that while traveling to or abstaining from Bolivia is a *choice*—all the souvenirs sold at the airport in La Paz, and all the gear hawked by REI, and all the Bolivian Kool-Aid sold in Sam’s Club-sized pallets, are *mandatory.* No thanks, I won’t need to add a rental minivan to my travel package. I hear there’s a great public transit system.
[...] Bolivia (I’m not going either): http://www.fluentself.com/blog/stuff/bolivia/ [...]
Twitter: Ranchboy11
Glad I finally read the travelogue about not moving to Bolivia. I too hadn’t really chosen not to go there (unlike moving to Oz…but I digress…). Funny thing is I ended up falling for a woman who lived there so I packed my bags and moved over there. Still, I didn’t really choose residence in Bolivia but since she lived there and her moving back wasn’t an option off I went. Like any move there were ups and downs but on the whole I’m glad I moved to a place I had never considered living and now 9 years later most everyone thinks I’m a native (maybe it’s ’cause I’m frequently seen with Bolivians). Not moving here would have been fine but have to say I’m good with the view now and can’t really imagine moving back, so I never do.
[...] into my projects and musings rather than relationships and children. I have never been married, never moved to Bolivia, (knew I didn’t want to go to Bolivia from the age of [...]
[...] is to say, right at the beginning, that I am not really talking about going to Bolivia or buying jeans. Just so we’re [...]
Oh my Gosh!!! Duh,I JUST got it!
Anyway, I moved to Bolivia, not because of some big dramafied episode, We just got the stuff and went. Even though I’m living in Bolivia, I know people who are waaaay too Bolivia-fied. I mean, just because you live in Bolivia doesn’t mean you can’t eat Chinese food or socialize with Egyptians. I have lots of friends who don’t give a rat’s ass about moving to Bolivia, but they still love to visit and goof off with me. Bolivia is nice but it ain’t all that. I’m sure your life will not be lacking just because you didn’t move here. I love having good friends who do not live in Bolivia.
Twitter: moonheids
When I was younger, I was adamantly opposed to moving to Bolivia. I couldn’t understand the appeal.
When I was in my 20s, I read a book about women who had never been to Bolivia and realized that some of them in fact had wanted to go but couldn’t board the plane. It had never occurred to me that the choice, er, not-going-ness could be decided for you.
When I was 31, I married my wonderful co-pilot. At 33, we bought our tickets to Bolivia, but didn’t think we’d want to visit more than once. We were still getting used to the idea of living there.
At 35, we decided we wanted to go back after all. Our new Bolivian was amazing and we were settled in for good. At 36, the plane crashed shortly after takeoff. Turned out the wings were defective. I had to have them repaired, twice. But now we needed some mechanics to help get the plane in the air. We found a wonderful crew; finally, at 39, I caught another flight, but it didn’t last any longer than the first.
After three more rounds of repairs, I am nearly 41 and I have one last chance to visit this year. It will take all of the mechanics and an additional crew member, but we think this will be the ticket for us.
If not, then we’re content to stay here with our passport and our one visa stamp and our view of the hills.
Twitter: Ettaline
What a great post – thanks Havi.
I’m 53 and not living in Bolivia. I did attempt to go there once but the boat sank and I had to swim back home. I was okay about not going and also okay about maybe going one day.
Then I met my husband and decided that he really wanted to go but we never seemed to get it sorted. Having had our passports and visas checked, it seemed that his was defective. So I thought that we could maybe have some Bolivian friends come to stay with us instead, but he decided that he didn’t want that. Then he left me to find a younger woman to go to Bolivia with. It seems that his passport is still defective!! Hmm…
Since being on my own, I have decided that I’m quite glad we didn’t get there as I may have ended up on my own and that could have been difficult. Instead, I have now become a virtual Bolivian to 55 young friends who live there. It’s the best way to go for me. Life is good being who I am, where I am, doing what I’m doing.
Twitter: miss_knotty
My brothers and their wives have gone to Bolivia, and my parents obviously went there, but came back once my brothers and I grew up. They have always been quick to tell us we should do what makes us happiest, and make sure that we take precautions so that what makes us happy doesn’t take us unexpectedly there, or to any other places where we’re not ready or willing to go, like Holland, or Azerbaijan. As my brothers and I have aged, we’ve taken different paths. My brothers, once they met their wives, felt that pull south of the border, and have ventured there, henceforth to stay (thus far, anyway). I, on the other hand, have spent filthy lucre to make sure my feet stay on these shores on a permanent basis. So did my fiance. Our friends know and most of them are not headed there either, but we’ve thus far kept the news from our respective parents and families, because we don’t feel the need to justify our reasoning to them. We haven’t decided how or if we’ll break it to them, whether we’ll tell them we’re intentionally staying here, or whether we’ll lie by omission and say we simply can’t move there (technically, that’s the truth, but they don’t have to know that we both elected to cancel our visas). We have our reasons for not ever wanting to go to Bolivia, but we don’t feel compelled to have to justify them to people who cannot comprehend how anyone could not WANT to go there. Although I must say that while my mother never pressures me to move there, many others (particularly in my workplace) seem to obsess over my travel plans, and they really shouldn’t. After all, don’t they know who’ll be picking up the slack for the women who DO move to Bolivia?
Don’t know what to say except that all should be advised regarding what some will do in their secret primal desire to go to Bolivia. Yrs later, since you were instrumental in partnering w/ them so they could get their passport, it is discovered that, revealed gradually during life situations over time then subsequent observation & enlightenment on your part that you have been manipulated – revealed is that someone had no real desire to have a friendship, rather only to get to Bolivia & make Bolivians – as long as you’re there to do the work & make the decisions regarding the little citizens. Love (for the little Bolivians) & duty cause one to do the job in the face of personal emotional deprivation – difficult but not impossible – even if you suspect early on that you are being manipulated. And maybe you concoct some ridiculous hope to keep yourself going that things will change once the little Bolivians become big citizens & move on to their own pursuits & countries. Over time manipulation amounts to cruel deprivation & your personal emotional starvation & you find yourself seriously emaciated – let’s face it, in a living arrangement in Bolivia, the biggest rigid narcissist wins.
Good luck to Heids & kudos to Ettaline.
Thank you so, so much for this post, and for making it NOT about choice.
I reluctantly identify as Bolivia-less by Choice, even though I really feel the way you describe about it. I’d never really thought about it for most of my life. I just pictured myself in 5, 10, 25, 50 years, and there was never a picture of myself in Bolivia. Maybe I’d visit friends who’d moved there, after they’d been there a while, learned the language, been settled in…but I never saw a future which included moving to Bolivia myself. None of your criteria for choosing, just…no Bolivia. My husband and I discussed it briefly, because I think if you’re entering a long-term commitment it is important to make sure you’re on the same page about where you might like to live in the future. After all, if he had a burning desire to go to Bolivia and I didn’t, that might present a challenge in our relationship. But it was very simple for us. “Do you think you’ll want to move to Bolivia?” “No, I’m not interested in Bolivia at all.” “Me neither.”
Until.
Until I grew up and realized that there were some people who wanted nothing more out of life than to move to Bolivia. I don’t mean these people just had a strong pull to Bolivia. I mean literally wanted NOTHING out of life, at all, but just wanted to move to Bolivia in a very extreme way. Until I got married, and realized that a lot of people jumped straight to “So, how soon are you two moving to Bolivia?” Until I said, “Actually, we don’t plan to move to Bolivia at all,” and got The Look, like I had three heads. Until I realized that if I wanted to take permanent steps to prevent myself from accidentally moving to Bolivia, I’d be treated like a child by my doctors and denied my rights over my body and its, um, citizenship. (Apparently, if I got on a plane to Bolivia, I’m entitled to a parachute and everyone will pitch a fit if I’m denied that right to choose, but if I prefer not to parachute and instead want permanent protection against getting on the plane in the first place, I can’t make that decision for myself. This isn’t a statement on anyone else’s parachutes. It’s just an observation by someone who would prefer not to parachute.) Until I was told by someone I considered a friend that I clearly was deficient as a human being because I had no inclination to ever move to Bolivia.
Then I chose. I was dragged to the choice, kicking and screaming, by those narrow-minded folks who don’t think a woman who is old enough to vote, drink, have a Master’s degree, and get married is old enough or smart enough to know whether or not she wants to move to Bolivia. I thought, “Finally, no one can tell me that I’ll ‘change my mind’ when they see that I’ve given due consideration to moving to Bolivia. They won’t be able to treat me like an idiot anymore when they see I’m not dismissing it out of hand.”
But no. Instead, all I get is, “Why do you hate Bolivia? What did Bolivia ever do to you?” I don’t hate Bolivia. I’m not very interested in Bolivia, and I don’t even like to visit friends in Bolivia as much as some people, but I certainly don’t think we should stage a coup and get rid of Bolivia entirely. I’m not out to convince anyone else not to move to Bolivia. I can understand why people are concerned about the fuel costs and overcrowding in Bolivia, but I think that if you’re really drawn to Bolivia, you should just try to be responsible in as many ways as you can about it. Maybe someday society will realize that moving to Bolivia isn’t something one can be right or wrong about, and we can all focus on the things we’d rather be thinking about.
[...] with the unusual level of metaphorical expressions at the Fluent Self blog to understand that a post about moving to Bolivia is actually referring to not having [...]
[...] Have you read Havi’s piece on being childfree, entitled Bolivia? [...]
I know what you mean. Been there my whole life but in the opposite way, I think. I don’t get the “oh, so sorry for you” or the “you are so naive” thing because I don’t want to move somewhere but because I want. People don’t get it, when you feel pulled toward something or somewhere, you just feel it and it’s all you can explain. I get it when you say “this is how it is, what I feel”, there isn’t really an explanation for what you feel, and people don’t understand that moving or not moving somewhere is about feelings too, not only life-changing decisions. When you feel comfortable in a place, you stay there. When you don’t feel comfortable, you leave. At least, that’s the way it should be.
Also, people have always told me “you’re gonna change your mind when you grow up” (I’m 16), and you know what? I’ve been longing to move to USA since age 4 (no kidding, my mom told me I used to talk about it on my way to kindergarden) and 12 years have passed and I still feel the same way towards it. I see a picture and I FEEL it, that pull, the same way that you DON’T FEEL it. It’s about feelings not about decisions. Because you can’t decide what you feel, and at the end of the day, that’s what makes life interesting and that’s what makes you, yourself.
1) This is wonderful and amazing.
2) I am one of those people who has ALWAYS thought I would go to Bolivia! I love it – the people are the best people, even if they are really small! But now, as I am exactly your age and still haven’t made it there, and as I am looking around and realizing that I would have to take that really long, hard trip on my own, and pay for it, I am less certain that going to Bolivia would make me happier than, well. Not going to Bolivia.
3) For all of you ladies out there who have no interest at all in ever going to Bolivia, may I suggest moving to NYC? A good number of my friend here are happily living without a whiff of Bolivia in their lives, and many don’t even understand my strange yearning to go there.
I’m just now having my Bolivia crisis – it’s just going the opposite way from everyone else’s.
For me, the isolation is coming from both sides, I guess – I have the lure of Bolivia that seems just out of reach, and I have friends who don’t understand why I might ever want to go there in the first place, so they can’t really comfort me when I think I might never make it. And more and more their “stay here with us and lets have cocktails every day!” approach seems easier.
Bolivia is a really, really complex place…
Twitter: katarinka
I so very recently became hyper-aware of the culture and celebration of the pilgrimage to Bolivia, and it freaked me the hell out. Somehow, all the banners and gifts and presents and parties changed the image of Bolivia in my head from an expected, inevitable rite to a thing that a lot of people happen to do but I’m not really sure why; kind of like witnessing a ritual as an outsider/anthropologist. So as soon as I started *noticing* the trip to Bolivia, I realised that I didn’t want to go there at all.
So this post was immeasurably comforting for me. Especially when my mother laughs at me, saying, “I bet you’ll change your mind when your older.” How much older do you want me to be? Also, no thank you.
Though I am really excited about my friends who are moving there; I love seeing their photos and listening to their stories. A little part of me thinks that they’ve been drugged and probably aren’t thinking clearly, but the rest of me lets them have their stuff, and me mine.
I know there are other places I want to live. I don’t know where they are yet, but I know they’re not Bolivia. That doesn’t mean my life lacks direction, purpose, meaning, or whatever other nice-sounding-but-not-really-that-nice words well-meaning people use. I also enjoy the comfort in knowing that I can pack up at any point and move *wherever*, because that is important to me.
I commented about ten months ago, whilst on my first preemptive journey to Bolivia. My visa’s been revoked three times now, and part of me’s thinking, eh, I can always move back to New Zealand. I was a temporary Kiwi for a year and I enjoyed it.
My traveling companion would like to try to get our visas reinstated and wants to jump through a few of those hoops, to give it one last college try, but I don’t know if I can. I’m just tired. And maybe I’m giving up. But I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who wrestles with this concept of moving to Bolivia or not. The issue of Bolivia does not get easier as you get older. Sometimes I wonder if it’s harder. If we’d applied for citizenship five years ago, or even eight years ago, would it have been easier? I’m thirty-two, halfway through a PhD program, and can’t imagine my life beyond next year, much less what it would be like in a foreign country, with new rules to learn.
Thank you, again, for this post. And for it bringing new meaning to my life and helping me wrestle with my own ‘choices.’
[...] be at the end of our journey together. I wonder if someone will hand us a relocation brochure to Bolivia, buy us a plane ticket, or if we will end up in Nepal instead. I wonder what our work will be, how [...]
So glad I found this post! I thought my husband felt exactly as good as I did about not emigrating to Bolivia. Turns out he’s actually quite keen to go, but had neglected to mention it because he wasn’t sure that he would make a success of the move, and because I had appeared so decided.
While I am very clear indeed that I don’t want to move to Bolivia, it is the most important thing in the world for me to help get him what he wants out of life. Argh. No easy way out: at least one of us will end up with some fairly big regrets that won’t be easy to live with. No idea what to do about it, but it’s refreshing to read so many untroubled anti-emigration opinions.
[...] my brain a few days ago as I was playing with the spouse-person: Um, what if I were on my flight to Bolivia and I was still working at this [...]
Twitter: Estebban
I am amazed by the bound people develop for Bolivians once they move to Bolovia, so sometimes I think I want to move there.
But sometimes I think I am not fit to live in Bolivia, other times I actually do not want to live in Bolivia.
Now reading I wonder what is the real deal, where do I stand about Bolivia? And then it hits me, a better question: do I must have a stand about Bolivia?
My amazement about the bounds made with Bolivias by inmigrants might be influencing my inclination on those days that I want to go too, but how to know if that is the real me?
Or is it okay to be okay with whatever happens? Bolivia is a big matter according to many and I feel I should decide one way or the other… How much of that is their stuff? How much of that is my stuff?
Need serious thinking and reflecting on this :)
Great post and comments on the subject!!
I used to say to a travelling companion that I wanted to at least TALK about going to Bolivia…that I didn’t want to wake up and find that my visa had expired and that I had never even considered the trip. It felt careless, to get to the end of a visa and not have had the discussion.
Then we stopped travelling together.
And I am now 38…
I guess I feel that I would be a very poor citizen of Bolivia were I to go alone. Sort of crabby and a little sanctimonious. Since I never found another travelling companion, therefore, I felt that the choice was not available to me. It made me feel a little powerless…flatter, and less worthy.
Now I live in west africa. There is a weird thing here: everyone HAS to go to Bolivia at some point. You aren’t really a west african adult if you don’t spend some time in south america…the message here is that travelling companions are nice but not essential. And sometimes not that nice.
So now there is lots of pressure and a fair bit of scheming to get me to go to Bolivia alone. Apparently the ticket purchase can happen on the sly (who knew?)…the travel agent doesn’t even need to know.
Still not interested.
But…still wondering if I’d feel that way if a travelling companion came along…and a bit whistful that I don’t get to at least consider the choice. Seems unlikely now to meet, find we travel well together and decide to move to Bolivia all in the three minutes I have left before my visa expires (if it is even still good)…
But perhaps you are right. Perhaps there isn’t a choice to it. Perhaps in fact the thing I am whistful about not having is a will of the whisp.
Maybe it would be nice to find a travelling companion and to go somewhere else – it is hard to think of where now, as i am a little tired of travelling alone. Too many choices for one person. Literally tired.
Then again, it seems odd be tired of choosing things alone and to be sad about not being able to make one particular one.
Yes, perhaps the choice is another one: to find a way to be happy now, regardless of where I am.
thanks.
I’m in an odd position right now, where I really love Bolivia – I love the countryside, the native flora, the heat – but I really don’t like the culture there. I don’t want to have to go around with the other natives and forsake the things I love about my home here. I want to be able to – commute, essentially.
I want to be able to take my private jet and fly out to my beloved office (with my Thing!) and then fly home again in the evenings to see Bolivia. But I’m afraid that I won’t be able to pull it off. Particularly because my mom got stuck in Bolivia and still hasn’t been able to get out again.
But now that I know this about myself, I’ve been putting my energy into looking at ways to make it work. Figuring out what my private jet looks like, what makes it fly.
I’m so glad I finally read this, after all the rally-gators recommended it.
Loneliness fascinates me. Despite several hundred Facebook friends, this is a topic that I’d like more honest discussion about. Yay, proxies!
My anecdotes:
As a teen, I saw women of all ages totally bonding over stories of the trip. It seemed to end loneliness. If I were in Bolivia right now, I may be more isolated, because I’d have less time to spend with other Bolivians, although when they do hang out, they seem to bond over much grander ideas–legacy, personality development, extreme love–as well as much grosser things than we non-Bolivians.
In college, I asked my mom why she went to Bolivia. She said it was just what everybody did. Talk about loneliness! To discover I was the product of societal expectations and likely to end up re-imagining my whole life purpose likewise….
The uncle who most encouraged me to excel in school for the sake of my future career also yelled at my mom once for pursuing a career instead of watching her kids full-time. Point 2 *against* Bolivia (or at least the idea of “living up to your potential”, i.e. using both your schooling and your anatomy until both are exhausted). (My mom liked working because she wasn’t keeping all her eggs in one basket; aack, now I was just an egg!)
When I first read Siddhartha, I thought the moral was that no matter how enlightened one gets, one comes back to do what their parents expected but now finds it completely fulfilling. Point 2 *for* Bolivia.
I’ve heard that good decisions increase freedom. Hmm. I am actively keeping barriers up to avoid slipping into Bolivia, so it is a decision for me — a decision that increases my freedom to wrestle fairly uselessly with the underlying biological imperative. Hmm. Is that freedom?
I’m a biologist, yet I was totally surprised when someone asked 30-something me if I ever had the urge. For me, other needs are louder. Like, if the house is too messy now, how would going to Bolivia improve that? Then, that sounds trivial, like it’s hiding a bigger anti-Bolivia fear, which is camouflaging an even bigger pro-Bolivia gwish that I’ve been afraid to open the floodgates to (see biology above).
In the end, I think I will enjoy Bolivia, although I wish I would better understand how it fits. Maybe getting on the plane would finally settle my delusion that analyzing everything is useful to me. If “wherever you go, there you are”, completeness can happen here or in Bolivia, now or future.
Brilliant. I hope this gets picked up by the mainstream press and distributed widely.
I’ve never wanted to move to Bolivia. Since I was a child I knew it wasn’t for me. There was a time in my teens when I felt pressure to one day adopt a move to Bolivia, under so many conditions and restrictions there was no way I’d make it there. Then I met my other half, and he made me feel like myself again. He let me be me and all the old feelings of not wanting to go to Bolivia were there. They’ve only strengthened. I can think of 1000 reasons not to go to Bolivia, but not one reason to go there. I don’t feel like this is a choice. It’s an inevitability of who I am.
Lauren recently posted… Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
For me, the worst thing about not ever having gone to bolivia is that by my age,almost everyone I know is there, or has already been. There are so few of us who haven’t gone, and even if I wanted to – which I don’t – they wouldn’t let me in now. I am so bored of Bolivia – stories about bolivia, photos of bolivia….once people have been there they are never interested in what’s happening back home any more. There comes a point when they even stop “feeling sorry for you ” for not having gone (that was bad enough) – now, they just think you were weird and stubborn and sort of defective for not going – after all, you’ve had all your life to get around to it. Now, even for those who’ve already been, all they talk about is going back – if one of the younger members of your family goes there, they let you back in.Then you get to recreate your life in bolivia all over again. My brother and sister are both in bolivia and my parents are obsessed by it, so when we all meet up we always have to do bolivian things – it never seems to occur to anyone to ask me if I’d like to do anything different, I’m justy expected to fit in with it all. But bolivia has nothing to do with me.Just because I haven’t been, why does that mean I’m not entitled to a say in anything we do together?
I come back to this post every now and then, because I do think about Bolivia a lot, and have been planning travel routes for a while now.
Looks like my traveling companion and I will be taking a journey to Bolivia by sea. Which is kind of unusual, and we’re probably going to have to explain it a lot to Bolivian immigrants who hopped on a plane like most travelers. I’m a little nervous. As far as I know, my passport’s valid — I was born a citizen and haven’t had any trouble with the INS — but I’ve only ever traveled domestically, with lots of insurance, and I’ve never tested it out. And I have this thing about flying. Don’t ever want to do it. I kinda think that I’d rather parachute out shortly after takeoff than remain in a plane all the way to Bolivia. So I just don’t get on a flight. My traveling companion could maybe fly, and I’d meet her in Bolivia… but she’s got some issues with her inner ear tubes and all that might make flying very uncomfortable for her.
So we’re planning a steamship journey. And the thing about that is that it takes a heck of a lot longer than flying. There are lines everywhere. (You get to talking with the other people who are waiting to board.) And the customs paperwork is atrocious, especially if you’re young and queer and atheist and so forth. People who fly never have to deal with this stuff; they just hand you a sheet to sign on the plane before you disembark and you’re good, pretty much. But on a ship they worry you’re smuggling fruit flies in your luggage or planning on harrassing Bolivians and disrespecting their culture and whatnot. The Bolivian immigration service frowns on bad publicity. So even though I’ve been eying travel agencies for a long time, it’s going to be a while before we get to the head of the line and board our ship and eventually arrive in Bolivia.
Very well-put. You do a good job explaining a position about Bolivia that is not often articulated. Emigration to Bolivia is embedded so deeply in our culture, particularly for women, that everyone assumes that a long, complicated, hand-wringing choice is involved, no matter who you are.
I myself work in Bolivia, and have since I was pretty young. People make a lot of assumptions about those of us who take jobs there. They don’t understand why we commute, instead of just moving there. Or they are suspicious, saying, “But NO ONE can really be dedicated to working in Bolivia unless they live there!”. I like my work, and I really like helping all those Bolivians and their families. But at the end of the day I need my native space and quiet. I couldn’t handle a second shift at the end of my day.
I have one or two close friends who have moved to Bolivia and still hung onto their native culture and practices, and they don’t insist that Bolivia is great and everyone should move there. They actually enjoy leaving Bolivia for a bit and having a beer or three with me. They understand why I don’t live there. They’ve told me that Bolivian life suits them well, but that not enough people plan their move carefully enough, and too many move there against their will.
Everyone has their own philosophy about Bolivia, even if you don’t move there…or even want to. And that’s a good thing.
[...] we officially kicked off the search for a new apartment again, since that’s the next step in Project Bolivia. We haven’t hit all the goals I wanted to hit before moving, but I’m going to trust [...]