16 December 2006

The Basement of 3571 Harrison Avenue (2006.12.15)

Today, once again I write to remember. Or rather, I write because I do remember…these are the things I think about this time of year. The last time I did this (about Ranzaganza…click on the “Previous Posts” link on the left that says “A Tribute To A Long Standing Tradition”) I really enjoyed it, so here I am again.

Of course this time of year brings back lots of memories for everyone…Christmases past spent with family and friends, a special gift you received from Santa, that one time it snowed like crazy and you went sledding after opening presents Christmas morning…whatever it may be I think we always find ourselves reminiscing this time of year. For me, I often tend to think back to all the years I spent the pre-Christmas weeks working at Fawn Candy up the street from my house.

The Fawn is a small family-owned business that’s been around for about 60 years now. It’s owned and run by the Guenther sisters, Kathy, Jackie, Jane and Jean. The business was started by their father, Pep, back in the day. He started off selling ice cream and a few other sweets but over the years got out of the ice cream business and into the all-kinds-of-other-sweets business. Jean is my aunt by marriage and that’s how I got the job hook up. I started out when I was in 7th grade on the bottom rung of the candy ladder working out in the garage bagging up bulk candy for the Easter season. They would get huge bulk boxes of jelly beans, foil eggs, malted milk balls, and all those other goodies you get in your Easter basket, and it was our job to weigh them out and put them into little “Fawn Candy” bags to be sold in the store or for fundraisers for churches or girl scout troops or what have you. We got paid by each individual bag we did, so it was to our advantage to work as fast as we could. It was a pretty fun job…we could bring in cds and listen to whatever we wanted to out in the garage, and it was nice because I could just walk there after school got out at Bridgetown. After about 3 or so springs spent bagging stuff in the garage the upper management thought it prudent to move me inside to the basement, where the real magic happens. This was a pretty big jump in the Fawn Candy world…most of the garage boys didn’t stick around long enough to be promoted into the basement. Most were just neighborhood friends of the sister’s kids or kids of their friends, or as was my case, relatives. So I was pretty pumped when I went down to ask Jean what I was going to bag that day and she said “actually we’re going to have you work in the basement from now on.” Sweet! Literally.

I will now take some time to talk about Chris Gaines. I imagine it must have been the year before when Chris, another garage employee of high aptitude, got moved into the basement as well. Since we both went to Oak Hills and he could drive, he’d take me to work after school with him. I didn’t know Chris that well…we had played tee-ball together when we were really little and I knew his brother pretty well because he was in my grade but Chris was a year ahead of me and when you’re in junior high, the difference between an 8th grader and a 9th grader was HUGE. But I knew him well enough that he was a nice guy and I looked forward to getting to know him because he seemed like a cool dude. My first real memories of Chris are of his van. Those of you who are familiar with the van are all laughing now, remembering what a piece of junk it was. It was this huge chevy conversion van, big enough to fit about 30 people, but usually it was just Chris and me. His dad had bought it from some guys who took it fishing all the time, so there were these little hooks inside you’d usually see inside a fishing boat or in a garage that were use to put fishing rods up on the inside walls of the van. The heat didn’t work in the van either, so Chris had a big piece of cardboard on the front of the radiator to make sure the engine got nice and hot on cold days but it was still freezing inside. The funniest part of the van was the sound “system.” Probably even moreso than me, Chris liked his music. And he went to great lengths to see to it that it was nice and loud in the van. Speaker wires were running all over the van, connected to box speakers he had gotten from garage sales or whatever, one of them I think he even made with plywood. He had an amplifier though, and it sounded pretty good. But he only had a cassette deck, so he used his portable discman with a tape adapter…which would constantly run out of batteries. He used the rechargeable kind, so whenever it died, it was usually my job to take the batteries out and put them in the “needs to be recharged” Ziploc baggie and pull some new ones out of the “charged” Ziploc baggie. I remember pulling into the candy store parking lot with Prodigy blasting and the two of us hopping out, usually being scolded for scaring away customers with the loud music. And Chris always backed into his parking spots. I really don’t know why, it was just a habit of his…no matter where he went, he always backed in. The van was great though, and would serve us well a couple years later when we went trash picking. Lots of good times in that beat up ‘ol Chevy.

Chris was the kind of guy who didn’t give a crap about what people thought about him. He just did what he thought was cool or fun and just rolled with whatever came at him. He certainly ruffled some feathers along his way, always pushing the envelope with whatever he could. And that’s what I liked about him so much. He was always straight with you and just did what felt right to him. Looking back, he was probably one of the very first people that planted that seed in myself…the revolutionary “damn-the-man” seed…I could see in him that we didn’t have to be like everyone else was…that being different wasn’t a bad thing, that it was actually better to be different. Right now it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal but having those realizations when you’re 15 or 16 was a big deal. Chris was larger than life…right down to his fro of a haircut. He was always smiling and joking…he had one of those magnetic personalities that just made everyone want to be around him. He was one of the most popular kids at school, he even won homecoming king his senior year. Chris and I got to be fast friends spending so much time together at the Fawn. We were always joking around with everyone there, having fun with the work, regardless of how monotonous it could get sometimes. Chris could make a good time out of getting an ingrown toenail removed…he was just that kind of person. We had competitions to see who could roll the most chocolates or wrap the most carmellows or whatever our task was on any given day. One of our favorite jobs was taking out the trash on Wednesday nights. To any normal person, taking out the trash usually is a chore, much less enjoyable. But for some reason we always had a good time with it…slipping and sliding on the iced walkway, running around the store emptying all the trash cans as fast as we could. I’m pretty sure most of the other people there (especially the new part time people who didn’t know us or our antics yet) thought we were pretty crazy…but we didn’t care, we had fun working and that’s all you can really ask for if you ask me. We were also responsible for scrubbing down the kitchen floor a few times each holiday season…moving out all the equipment and bags of ingredients, scraping all the spilled caramel or smashed jellybeans and mopping. Like I said, something like that doesn’t sound like fun at all, but everything was fun with Chris. One year after Christmas, we got charged with painting the kitchen from top to bottom. First we had to scrub down all the grime on the walls and floor, then let it dry, and then paint around all the ducts and lights and everything. Between the cleaning solution fumes and paint fumes, we were pretty zonked by the end of the ordeal…I can remember finding some really old pizza in the fridge and eating it and thinking it tasted amazing. Then there was the night we returned to the garage to make some serious money. I think there was a shortage of garage people that year and they needed to catch up on some stuff, so Chris came up with this loco idea that we should spend the night staying up all night bagging stuff. Chris was all about efficiency and always came up with a “system” to do the task at hand. Both having been garage people before, we put our heads together and figured out the fastest way to bag stuff so we could pull in the most money. We had a case of Mountain Dew (sounds so good right now) on hand to keep us going and we took a late night run to White Castle around 3am when we started to hit the wall. We ran around outside in the cold and horsed around in the parking lot to stay awake. We ended up working from like 8 or 9pm to 7 or 8am. When Jane got there around 9 for the Sunday shift, she found us cashed out with our heads down on the table. We slept for an hour from 8 until 9 and then went into the basement and put in about 4 hours making chocolates. I think we ended up pulling in 200 bucks each for the night’s work though. We always played practical jokes on whoever was working, and I think the only reason they didn’t fire us was because we always got a lot of work done and kept things lively…and maybe because Jeanie is my aunt, but whatever. Like everything else in life, the people at the candy store really made it so amazing, and Chris was a big part of that. I’ve only seen Chris a handful of times since college started…we haven’t managed to keep in touch as well as we should, but each time we meet up for wings or the Christmas tree bonfire, it’s just like old times. Hopefully we’ll be able to keep in touch better once I get back. Regardless, we’ve always got the countless memories from the Fawn, and that’s something I’ll never forget.

Ok, enough about Chris. Everyone at the Fawn was really great. Those of us who worked in the basement did most of the dirty work, mixing up cream centers, rolling them out onto wax paper and running them through the dipping machine. We wore jeans, t-shirts and white smocks and listened to good music (and Pep’s Paul Harvey…every day at noon…no matter if my favorite song was playing on WEBN, when noon came it was time for Paul Harvey). Pep (the girls’ dad who started the business and turned it over to them) worked downstairs with us too, always coming down (he lived in the apartment above the store) for a few hours to make coconut goodies, which were these tiny little pieces made up of toasted coconut and milk chocolate…sooooo good. He always had a good story or joke to tell and really did enjoy working when he wasn’t playing golf.

Mainly because of Chris, we started developing a “basement pride” and would always give the “upstairs people” a hard time and tell them to get back up where they belonged. I think we frightened a few of the new girls a couple of times, but once they realized that no one else really paid attention to what we said, they would just give it right back to us. The upstairs people made displays and packaged trays and boxes so they looked nice and pretty with bows and all that. Plus they had to look nice because they dealt with the customers. Whenever we’d go upstairs to take them something or help unload the UPS truck, we always looked out of place with our chocolate filled smocks and flour all over our faces. We usually got a few funny looks from the customers, but we didn’t care. Plus I’d always nab a gummy worm or two, so it was worth it.

The older of the four sisters, Kathy and Jackie, ran the store upstairs. They would take orders, package stuff up, organize all the finance stuff, attend to the customers and keep all the little upstairs worker girls busy. Their daughters helped too and these days Kathy’s oldest daughter Tricia does most of the finance stuff (I think). Along with us in the basement (“the factory”) were the younger of the 4 sisters, Jean and Jane. They would usually be cooking stuff in the kitchen from scratch, and the rest of us would roll it out, run it through the dipping machine and package it up in bulk. They ran a tight ship and we always managed to get a lot of work done…despite Chris and me acting like fools. I don’t think they understood why Chris and I liked working so much, but we really did. One story in particular…there was a back closet downstairs where we kept all the empty boxes. But also located in the closet was the air compressor for the chocolate pump for a few of the machines, which we would flip on with a little switch when we needed to use those machines. The compressor is super loud, especially in the confined little area of the closet. Well poor little Aimee from upstairs came down to put some boxes back in the closet and while she was back there I signaled Chris to flip the compressor on…scaring the life out of her. After she screamed and knocked down most of the stacks of boxes in the closet, Chris and I were rolling on the floor laughing. It was at this point when Jane, who had been watching the whole time, looked at us and said in 100% seriousness “You two are imbeciles,” which made Chris and I laugh even more and slap a high five, as if being called an imbecile by Jane was the highest level of coolness. For the next few days we referred to each other with nothing but the word “imbecile,” which I think proved Jane right.

Also down in the basement were Nancy and Melissa. Nancy had been working there a while when I got moved into the basement, and she brought her sister Melissa on board the second year I was there. They were both in their 30s and had husbands and kids and all that, so they offset the two of us crazy teenagers acting like fools all the time. We all got to be good friends and worked together well. Chris and I would always groan when they turned on their soap operas in the afternoon and they were also beneficiaries of Chris and I giving them crap for stupid things…whether it be the way Nancy said “Italian” or how Melissa sent her kids to Catholic schools because they were “better.” I think we were borderline mean a few times, but it was truly all in jest and if we ever hurt any feeling we apologized. I still keep in touch with Melissa and her family (catholic school kids and all)…they are good friends. She even sent me a huge package down here filled with stuff she knows I like, for example Pepperidge Farm goldfish and a Dark Side of the Moon Poster. (sidenote: a few weeks later I received another DSOTM poster from Ben Coleman…I now have two up in my room and my host family can’t figure out what on earth they are…perhaps they think I worship some crazy color prism-oritented gringo god…oh well.) I also credit Melissa with turning me on to Led Zeppelin, who I had obviously heard of before but never really taken the time to listen to. Melissa let me borrow Led Zeppelin IV and my life was changed. So for that I will forever be in her debt. I sort of paid her back by introducing her to Counting Crows, but I’d say Zeppelin is more important. We’d always play both down in the basement, and Chris put up with it even though he liked rap music most. But Grandpa Pep never put up with rap, so we only listened to that when we mopped the floor when no one was around. Jeanie liked bluegrass and I think Jane’s favorite was Heart…so it was a good mix of music to make chocolate to.

There were always new employees coming and going…sticking around for a week or two during the big rush right before Christmas or Easter…notables included these two older women named Rik & Barbara, who were twins and both hilarious…they worked upstairs and always brought in their little grandkids who came to visit for the holidays. My cousin Sarah spent a few Christmases there, my sister even put on a white smock for a few weeks to help fund that liberal arts education of hers. Jeanie’s neighbor Andrea helped out some too, Chris brought his brother in, and Nancy and Melissa started bringing in their daughters once they were sure Chris and I with our public school educations wouldn’t be a bad influence on them. And there were always grandkids helping out whenever they could (or needed a few extra bucks). People were always coming and going, working a few weeks here and there…it was always hopping.

And now a bit about the work. Like I said, Jane and Jean would cook up big batches of stuff…usually just the right combination of sugar, corn syrup, evaporated milk, butter and then some flavoring cooked just to the precise right temperature. It was then dumped into the big mixing machine and allowed to set for a few minutes. Then the mixer got flipped on and sort of whipped it into the right texture. Then either Chris or I would take it out of the mixer and pile it up on the table to be rolled out. We would throw a little flour on our hands and on the table to keep it from sticking…roll out little “worms” of it, and cut the worms into pieces. Then the pieces would be rolled into nice little balls all by hand, and they were then ready for the dipping machine. The dipping machine is basically a long conveyor belt that we put the centers on to get covered in chocolate. It takes three people to run it, one person loading the centers onto the bottomer, which puts a layer of chocolate on the bottom before it goes onto a short conveyor belt to dry. The chocolates then pass through a “curtain” of chocolate falling from above and get completely covered and move onto a second, longer conveyor belt with a big cooling tunnel. The second person is the “marker” and they make sure the chocolates don’t stick together after they pass through the curtain as well as put on the distinguishing mark on the piece while the chocolate is still soft. Since so many of the pieces are just round, this is necessary to identify them. Opera fudge gets chocolate sprinkles, French Cream gets green drizzle, turtles get a squiggle, caramels get a line from corner to corner, etc. I started out being a loader but by the end of my time there I was usually marking. The chocolates then pass through the long cooling tunnel and are taken off by the third person at the end of the belt…usually Chris or Melissa. It was important to make sure the chocolate was at the right temperature so that when it cooled it didn’t produce those funky white marks but it was also important that they didn’t go through the tunnel too fast or they would end up being still wet at the end. The machine definitely had its nuances that you had to get used to. Aside from just cream centers, we made caramel from scratch to dip, we dipped pretzels as well as other stuff. One cool process was making pecan-caramel clusters, or “turtles.” We would spread out pecans all across the table…in a layer thick enough so that you couldn’t see through to the table. Then when the caramel was still hot, Jane or Jean would come by with this little funnel filled with caramel and a stick to plug up the hole, letting out a tiny bit at a time to make little circles of caramel. Once the caramel dried we would take the clusters off the table, picking off any really big pecans and getting them ready for the dipping machine. After that they went through the machine like everything else. These things are so good though. They were good to eat without chocolate on them even. Oh man, my mouth is watering.

One thing that was always a pain in the butt to make were chocolate covered cherries. Because they were so liquidy, they had to go through the dipping machine twice and since they were so round they would always roll off the stupid wire belt and just make a huge mess. Loading cherries grew to be the bane of my existence while at the Fawn, and I was happy when they moved me to the marking position and all I had to do was put a little circle on them. So if you ever wonder why the chocolate covered cherries are more expensive at the Fawn, it’s cause they are a pain to make. Oh man, but they are good.

We also made fudge from scratch and these cool things called carmellows, which are marshmallows dipped in caramel. I tried to eat a whole one once (probably on a bet from Chris) and couldn’t talk for about 15 minutes…it’s better if you take them a bite at a time. We have all kinds of molds to make different things out of chocolate…from every kind of animal you can think of to little chocolate tools and even chocolate caskets. Yeah that’s right, coffins. Kind of morbid but when you’re in the business of selling caskets, it’s a fun novelty to have in your office. Pep even bought the recipe a long time ago to this special kind of taffy called Suzanne’s Creams, which were always a process to make. They get cooked to the right temperature like everything else, but then get poured onto a special marble slab (marble because it allows them to cool properly) and after a certain amount of time the caramel-like blobs are brought downstairs and put on a big taffy puller, where we add vanilla and they turn from a brown caramel like consistency into a white taffy like stuff. Strips of the taffy are cut while it’s pulling the stuff and they strips are run through this crazy little contraption that cuts them into these funky little shapes. We always made these last at night because they had to sit on the table overnight to cool properly. If you eat them right out of the cutter, they are chewy and warm and really good. But if you wait until morning, they had turned into this dry consistency that melts deliciously when you put it in your mouth. Suzanne’s creams aren’t really available everywhere and it was one of the Fawn’s specialties (and another one of my favorites…it really isn’t a wonder I’m not a little chunkier).

The thing about the Fawn was that whether you were related or not, you were family. It was a family-owned and family-run business, but the idea of family stretched a lot further than that. There were always kids running around, which was cool because they were either your nephew or niece or son or daughter or cousin. The sisters would juggle their work and their kids (and now, grandkids) and their leisure masterfully. We would watch little baby Guenther while Jane went to work out next door…Alex and Savannah were always in their playpen next to the rolling table while Jeanie went to play tennis…and these days Kathy’s grandkids are the newest additions to the candy family. And in a way, we all helped raise them. We held them when they cried, Chris and I ran around and acted silly with them (because we were, after all, imbeciles) and Melissa even babysat them sometimes. It worked like a real family. Right down to the occasional sisterly disagreement. Normally it would happen like this. Jackie would come down asking Jeanie if some order for, oh I don’t know, a solid chocolate pig, was ready, because the lady is upstairs waiting. Jeanie would then ask “what order for a solid chocolate pig? I never knew about that.” Jackie would then march over to the little cork board with the order and pull a little slip of paper out from underneath a bunch of other pieces of paper and say “THIS order for a solid chocolate pig!!” and they would yell at each other for a few minutes about how we need to have better communication between the upstairs and downstairs, all the while Jeanie is digging through her boxes of molds looking for the pig mold. “Tell her she’ll just have to wait, then, Jackie!” she would say. And about 20 minutes later the pig was ready and packaged in some Easter grass and on it’s way to some kid’s mouth. No one ever stayed mad, but there was definitely tension at time. These were about the only times when Chris and I were smart enough to keep our mouths shut. But just those times and those times only, as everyone who worked with us will attest to.

The Fawn family will always be special to me, for the memories I made and the friends I continue to have. The last Christmas I spent working there was 2 or 3 years ago…Melissa is still there but Nancy has moved on to other things and Chris isn’t around any more either. Sadly, we lost Pep about 5 years ago now if I’m not mistaken…he had heart problems. But I’m sure he was smiling right up to the end…the guy really was amazing and I hope to have half his energy at his age. I’ve been extremely lucky that no one super close to me had ever passed away, and when Pep’s time came I felt that he was the closest person I’d lost up to that point…that’s how much of a family it felt like.

These days I pop my head in when I can to say hey to everyone and buy a couple things for some folks. After being there so long, I know what everyone likes…Grandma Von Allmen likes carmellows, Amy loves watermelon and cherry Jelly Bellys, Maurie’s a big fan of the foil peanut butter eggs, Steph loves the huge Whopper eggs, Dad’s vice is Chocolate Covered Oreos and Mom can’t get enough of the marshmallow peeps, but only after they’ve been left out to get crusty for a few days. Gross, Mom! As for me, I love it all. Chocolates, caramels, stuff with nuts, stuff without nuts, soft stuff, crunchy stuff, I eat it all. But what I love most are the people. The people are what make it special. So I suppose all I should say is…thank you. Thanks for the memories, the friends, the love and the 50% discount :)

05 December 2006

Tidbits (2006.12.05)

Saludos blog fans. Please allow me to apologize for my recent absence with blogging. I have been in and out of my site a lot for many different reasons and it's hard to find time to sit down to write about stuff when you never really have time to get settled in one particular place. Also, I have no singular amazing story to tell this time, just a few short and hopefully entertaining ones. These "tidbits" are in no particular order. Hopefully bit by bit as people send me pictures I will be able to post some of them as I am still without a camera.

"Ya se fue la barba"
For those of you who were fans of the beard, I'm sorry to report that it has made its sad departure. No real reason aside from the fact that I was beginning to look really absurd. Everyone in my site kept asking me why I didnĂ‚’t shave and told me that I looked really old. My family was telling me that the girls around town were asking about it too. "They'd give you a kiss if you shaved," they'd say. Not that I'm looking for a ton of kisses, but one or two would be nice :) Another deciding factor was that I needed a full time helper monkey to be sure there wasn't stuff (food, bugs, sticks, oil filters, etc) stuck in it. It was longer than my hair had been in years. It wasn't uncomfortable or hot, which was kind of surprising. I enjoyed messing with it...my friend Mary even braided it one night and I looked like Captain Jack Sparrow, which was awesome. I'd say if there was one reason above all why I did it, it was because my host sister is getting married in a couple of weeks and really really wanted me to cut it. She wants me to cut my hair too, but I think I'm going to hang on it a while longer.

My pal James and I were the only two of us left in the beard bet, and when we showed up for Thanksgiving, I decided to offer him a draw. I had gotten some hair clippers from a volunteer that had left and I pulled them out and showed them to James. "I was gonna do the same thing, dude. Let's do it." Around 8pm that night, we went into the bathroom with the hair clippers and a camera and went to town. By the end, we had left nothing but moustaches. James looked like Prefontaine with all his long hair and 'stache...I just looked like a real-life dirty Mexican (sorry, Naya). We took some pictures of the 'staches, and then I cut mine off...all the way down to a bare face. At the end of it all, the clippers were shot and there was a nasty mix of black and red beard hair all over the bathroom. I had been growing the beard for 6 months and 13 days. For right now, I'm back to the 'ol Ben Ranz goatee, but I think after the wedding I'm going to bring back the full blown beard...it was just too cool not to have around. Plus shaving is a pain cause I don't have a mirror and a sink in the same place in my house.

"Back to Cochabamba"
A few weeks back, the rest of my training group and I returned to Cochabamba for what they call "In-Service Training," which is a week of sessions and classes similar to those we had during our three months of pre-service training. We all shared our experiences from our sites and had sort of an information exchange with the other people in our project groups and talked about the challenges we'd faced and how we all deal with them. Some of it was worthwhile, but in general it made me remember all the stuff I didn't like about training...the mind-numbing sessions where they would tell us about a topic, tell us to break down into groups to discuss it, give us a big piece of paper and a marker (visions of FFA flipcharts ran through my head) to write down all our thoughts. Then we reconvene and share our groups thoughts with the bigger groups. It wasn't until we did it all again that I remembered how much I didn't like it back during training.

The good news was that I got to see all my friends from training that I hadn't seen in three months...all the people who aren't in the Santa Cruz region. It was great to catch up with everyone and hear how they are doing with their projects in their sites. It was also fun to see our trainers again, Armando & Sue, as well as our language teachers...those people that we had spent so much time with during training. One afternoon we played Walleyball at a gym in the city where my friend belongs, which was a really fun time. We stayed up late playing Catch Phrase and just shooting the bull over a few beers, laughing and reminiscing. We even had a beer pong tournament one night, which my partner Mike and I promptly won...I credit all those Thursday nights at 100 E. Frambes for our success. We had a barbeque at our boss Tim's house, which was some great food and good time to relax.

After 2 days of training sessions, we started with more language classes. I felt pretty comfortable with my Spanish, so I decided to take Quechua lessons. I don't really NEED Quechua in my site, but it's always good to have a few phrases down...just to kind of impress people. It was just my friend Vicki and I in the class, and we had a really awesome teacher named Hilarion, who also speaks pretty good English. It was really awesome to get a handle on a new language, although I still need a lot of practice if I want to really learn it, but I felt like I learned a ton in those two days of classes. It's the language of the Ancient Incans but these days there is a lot of Spanish mixed in because the Ancient Incans didn't have words for everything that is around today. Most people who speak Quechua can't usually read or write it, so I felt pretty lucky to get some good lessons in. There is a guy Jose in my site who talked about giving me lessons, so we'll see if I find time for that.

"O-H!"
How 'bout them Buckeyes, eh? As luck would have it, we were all in Cochabamba the day of the big game and found out that we could pay a little money and watch the game over streaming video on the internet. So after some finageling (sp??) we got to an internet cafe with a fast connection and gathered around the screen to watch. They were nice enough to give us speakers and everything. The connection wasn't fantastic...truth be told the majority of the time it would be like this...(voice of Brent Musburger): "And the buckeyes are lined up with 3 recievers and Antonio Pittman in the backfield...play clock winding down...here's the snap-" (screen and sound freeze...we all groan)...25 seconds later the screen unfreezes and we see Ted Ginn, Jr celebrating the amazing catch he just made which we didn't see. But all in all, it was about all one could ask for for being in Bolivia. It was also much easier to swallow since we won the game. One of my best friends down here is a UM grad, so we were happy to get to see the game, but I was happier since the bucks came out on top. I didn't gloat, but I did spend the rest of the evening annoying them with Ranz renditions of "I Wanna Go Back to Ohio State" and "We Don't Give a Damn For the Whole State of Michigan."

I got to talk to Ben Coleman during halftime which was fun and I called Dan Jaynes afterwards to revel in the victory, but truth be told it was really weird not being in Columbus, much less Ohio, much less the United States. It just didn't feel right and kind of brought me down a little. It was the first time in a long time that I hadn't been there for a big game like this. I definitely didn't foresee that coming. But I got over it and went to sleep with visions of Troy Smiths and Jim Tressels dancing in my head.

"Gobble gobble"
Many people have asked what went on down here for Thanksgiving. Well, first of all, Bolivians don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but that didn't keep us volunteers from having a good time. The Peace Corps tradition (at least in the Santa Cruz region) is to rent out a bunch of cabins in this resort in a town called Buena Vista (about 2 hours from the city) and celebrate there with all the other volunteers from the region. Peace Corps even provides turkey and fixins for the kitchen in the hotel to cook. And since they've been doing it for quite a while, they know how to cook the turkey well enough (it's not as good as grandmas, but it wasn't bad). It was a nice place and fun to see everyone and have a good time. We hung by the pool, had a few drinks, played some frisbee, and even got to toss a little softball, which felt great. I didn't feel as homesick as I thought I would, probably just because there were so many people around, but the highlight of the day was definitely getting to talk to my family as they were celebrating Thanksgiving back home. Our food didn't end up arriving until about 10pm due to a blockade (I don't really get it either) but when it finally did arrive we completely destroyed it. After the food digested a bit, we spent the rest of the night dancing and swimming around and having a jolly old time. It was certainly a Thanksgiving that won't soon be forgotten.

"I've been had!"
So about a month ago I ran out of toothpaste. Being the good volunteer that I am, I wanted to support the local economy in my site as opposed to buying more in the city. I wasn't sure if they'd have decent toothpaste in my site, but it was a chance I was willing to take. I headed across the street from my house to the store ans asked if they had toothpaste. He said they did and headed back to the shelf to get some. As I watched him I saw him go for a box that said "Colgate." "Oh, wow they have Colgate here!" I thought. "This is great." I asked him how much it was and he told me it was 6 pesos. "Six pesos!!" I thought, "I paid 18 in the city, this is amazing!" I told the good man to give me two and walked away happy. It wasn't until I got back to my house and looked a little closer at the package before I realized that it actually said "COOlgate" instead of "Colgate." Fooled! Crazy Bolivian rip off artists. I found a tube of Colgate in the city and compared it to what I had bought and it was all EXACTLY the same right down to the fine print on the tube, except for the extra "o" in the name. Not having anything else, I tried out the Coolgate. Not only am I sure it has no teeth cleaning properties whatsoever, I imagine it's actually DETRIMENTAL to the health of my teeth, as it tastes exactly like the candy cigarettes Barney and I used to buy at Osterhue's. Everything's a learning experience.

"La Familia Jimenez"
So the small amount of time I have spent in my site this past month, I spent a good amount of time with one particular family in town. I've known them since I've been in Hardeman for different reasons but have gotten to know them a lot better since. I met Don Pedro on my site visit...he is the biology teacher at the high school and is really friendly. I remember the frist time I met him I could hardly understand what he said just because he spoke so fast, but now I have no problems, which tells me that my spanish is in fact getting better. He wants me to drill him a well in his lot outside of town, and it will probably be the first well I do around Hardeman, which is cool. He wants to take me to his hometown for their town festival, but we'll see if I end up going. He's a great dancer and loves to cut the rug. He tore it up with everyone in town the night there was a party in town. It was hilarious to watch.

Randomly, one of the sons in the family is the father of the little girl that live's in my house, Vianka. He lives in Spain now, but Don Pedro and his wife are Vianka's grandparents. Another brother, Yingo, is always super friendly to me and helps me out whenever I need it. There are two younger guys (twins) named Ronald & Remo who I have gotten to be good friends with. Ronald is usually in the city during the week doing classes (studying international relations) but comes back on the weekends, and now that school is out he's around all the time. Remo works in a boys home in Santa Cruz so isn't around as much but we manage to see each other whenever he is. It's nice to have people I can just chill and hang out with, and they are definitley that. They know everyone in town and have introduced me to some other folks. Ronald is actually working on a big youth project throughout the entire province and I told him I'd help him out if he needed it, so that should be cool.

I always feel welcome at the Jimenez house, and I can't even walk by without them beckoning me into have coffee or just chit chat. It's taken some time but I'm finally starting to find my people.

"Good Day's Work"
In preparation for the wedding, where I live we have torn down one of the older, uglier sections of the house. Then on Friday, Juan Pablo (the soon to be husband of Bilma, my host sister) asked me to help him put up a roof where the room used to be, extending a roof that was already there, and providing more shaded area just to chill in. I had borrowed a power saw from fellow volunteer Andy so I could build some shelves for my room, and Juan Pablo was definitely thankful he didn't have to cut big beams with a dull handsaw. We spent the day framing it up an putting on these huge pieces of asbestos roof tiling, which got to be kind of a pain because all we had was this crappy ladder...no scaffolding or anyting...so I had to hand them up to the roof to him and then push them along with a stick to get them into place. It was a bit of a hassle but good to do some physical labor, which I hadn't done in a while...made me think of helping my dad around the house back home, although there were no piles involved. I got my shelves built too...they're not very straight but they will serve just fine for what I need them...plus the only wood I had to work with was wood that had been already been used and was pretty twisted and warped. I think my family was impressed I knew how to build stuff...I really think they think I'm just some silly gringo that only reads books all the time. Oh man, they should see me sling plaster.

"Buying Well Materials"
Since I have found at least 3 people who want wells around my site, I made plans to go into the city to buy materials for them. I was expecting it to be a pain, not only just because most things in Bolivia are, but because this would mean finding a way to transport sixty 6 meter (about 18ft) pipes from the city to Montero, then loading them on a bus and getting them to my site. Life would be so much easier if they gave us a truck. But alas, that's not going to happen.

So I hopped on a bus to Montero Wednesday morning around 9am, not really dreading nor looking forward to the normal 3 hour ride to Montero. What I hadn't thought about was that it had been raining a pretty good amount the past couple of days and that the road was sure to be a mess. But I realized this rather quickly. The blus slipped and slid all across the road, going perpindicular to it at times. Usually on this trip there are at least 3 or 4 instances where I'm certain I'm going to die...well this time there were about 10. It's really amazing what these bus drivers plow through. We ended up getting stuck about 6 times, having to either be dug out by the bus attendant and his shovel or be pulled out by another bus. It was a mess. The usual three hour ride ended up taking 7 hours. Insane. The only redeeming factor was that the bus attendant looked exactly like Peter Boyle (of Young Frankenstein and Everybody Loves Raymond fame) and I couldn't stop laughing at him. I hope that when my parents come we get him and they can laugh too. I got to the city a little exhausted but was happy to find out that my friend Sydney was in town and that I didn't have to be in a room by myself that night.

The next morning I set out to do the shopping. I had the money I needed from the guys that were going to get the wells and I had called fellow volunteer Bryan to come in and help me out. The plan was to find a taxi driver that was willing to take us to the plastic factory where we could by tubes, then have him go to the bentonite store and load up the bentonite, and then drive us all the way to Montero, where we would put it all on a bus. This was to be no easy task. We thoght it would be better to split up...I'd go get the tubes and meet him at the bentonite place. Well, the taxi driver that took me to the plastic factory was not interested in sticking around and waiting for me. I went in and bought what I needed, but then got a phone call from Bryan telling me that there was no bentonite until 4pm that day, which was too late to get it back to my site because of the bus schedule. We decided to completely part ways...I would get the tubes back to my site by whatever means possible and he would get the bentonite to his site by whatever means possible, then we could worry about getting the bentonite to my site at a later date. The most important thing was the tubes because they are a pain to transport.

After I bought them, I went out to the road and spent about 20 minutes flagging down a cab with a roof rack that was willing to put 60 huge pipes on the top. Finally I found one, and he only charged me 90 Bolivianos to take them all to Montero, which is pretty darn good. We strapped these things on, tied down on the top, in the front and in the back...I only wish I'd had a camera because it was hilarious looking. We made it to Montero without incident and unloaded the pipes at the bus stop. I found the next bus heading to Hardeman and begged the driver to put the tubes on the bus. He really didn't want to but I stayed strong and explained to him that they were for wells for people who didn't have water and that it was really important and also that I'd pay him 50 more Bolivianos. Usually when you mention money they crack. He and the attendant complained some more but eventually loaded them up. The road was better this time after a day or so of drying out, but we still got stuck twice and it took 4 hours instead of three. These are just things you get used to in Bolivia. We finally arrived in Hardeman without much incident, got the pipes unloaded and that was that. The simplest tasks can be a bit of an adventure here in Bolivia.

"As Always, the Good Follows the Bad"
For reasons I won't go into here, I had a terrible Saturday (a week ago). I might call it my worst day in Bolivia, but I don't want to sound dramatic. My worst day in Bolivia really wasn't that bad. But the fact of the matter was that I just didn't want to be in Bolivia that day. I had een in the city and decided to head back early to get away from the hustle and bustle of Santa Cruz and back to the tranquilo environment of Hardeman. It felt good to want to go back...it means it's starting to feel like home. Well, this busride was just as terrible as the other I told you about. First, the radiator broke, then something else, then the tire popped, then there was mud and trucks that were stuck, blocking the road...I actually ended up walking the last 2 km to Hardeman at midnight only to be attacked by dogs when I got there. However, I was thankful we popped a tire because it just happened to be on the only part of the road where I get cell phone service and as luck would have it, my phone rang. I was suprised to recieve a phone call at 10pm on Saturday night, but delighted to hear my favorite Chinaman George's voice on the other end. I had emailed him earlier in the day telling him I was having a rough go of it and like a good friend should he gave me a ring to cheer me up. It was a really good conversation and made me feel a lot better.

I was feeling pretty crappy again Sunday morning, but knew it would be good to get out of the house, and I had been invited to a graduation ceremony by my friend Trifon. Trifon is the physics and chemistry teacher at the high school, but three years ago started a school for adults or people who had to drop out of high school who wanted their high school equivalency. Sunday was the graduation of about 12 students all of different ages. One of them was a friend of mine, Ana Maria, who also wanted to have her picture taken with me afterwards. After feeling so crappy for a while, that tiny gesture really went a long way to make me feel better. Then Ronald and Remo came up to me and started asking me if I'd seen Benjamin, cause they haven't...alluding to the fact that they didn't recognize me without my beard, and joking with them also made me feel better. After the ceremony Trifon came up to me and asked me not to leave...that they were having a lunch afterwards and that he would be honored to have me stay and eat with all the other estimado invitados (esteemed guests). So I stuck around and had a good meal with a few of the other teachers and after some beer mixed with coca cola (that's how they do it in Bolivia) we were having some really great conversations. I had just spent pretty much the last 3 weeks speaking english with gringos and it felt good to get back in the spanish groove. I met the English teacher from the high school and he wants me to help with classes when school starts back up in March...he is a super cool dude and I'm looking forward to that for sure. We talked about politics, both of Bolivia and the US and lots of other things under the sun. It was awesome.

That night, there was a town party celebrating the graduation and I met up with Ronald & Remo and we stayed out until 3:30 dancing our pants off. This is when I saw Don Pedro dancing like a crazy person and laughing madly. It was a great night.

I'm not sure whether it's easier to feel really high after feeling really low or if things just work out to balance like that. Would I have enjoyed Sunday as much if I hadn't had such a crappy Saturday? The truth is I don't really know, but I think I would have. I have no idea why the really really great days seem to follow the really really terrible days, but all I can say is that I'm thankful. Hardeman feels like home more than ever now, and that has been my goal this entire time.

"Giardia?"
So I think I'm sick. That's why I've been in the city, able to email and post blogs these past two days. Not to get too disgustingly graphic, but I haven't had what one would call a "solid" bowel movement in about two months. No big deal really, just something else you get used to. But Saturday it started to get really bad and Sunday it was even worse and accompanied by nasty sulphur flavored burps, which usually means giardia. I spent more time on the toilet on Sunday than I'm sure most of you did last week. I called the Peace Corps doctor and got authorized to come into the city so they could check out my poop. I gave them a sample yesterday, another one today and will have to give another one tomorrow if they don't find anything. Then we'll play it by ear. I'm feeling a lot better and eating again, but if I've got something going on down there I'd like to get rid of it if I can while I have the chance. So we'll see how that turns out. At least I've finally gotten the chance to update this thing while I'm sitting around waiting for test results. If you've enjoyed reading, you can thank giardia :)

All for now. Be well and enjoy the December cold. I certainly am missing it these days, as summer is starting to kick in full swing. Over and out.

04 December 2006

Package Rules (actually they’re more like guidelines) (2006.12.04)

So it has occurred to me (as well as a few others who have suggested this) that it might be a good idea to put something up to guide those who are kind enough to send me packages. This is not intended to sound picky or unappreciative of anything that gets sent to me by any means but I think it might help.

Rule Number 1 – This is the most important thing: BIGGER IS NOT NECESSARILY BETTER. While it really means a lot when a 10 or 15 pound package arrives from someone, the fact of the matter is that so much stuff is hard to carry around. You must remember that it’s not like I have a car to put all this stuff in and take it home with me. Usually I just have a backpack and usually it’s already full of stuff for whatever trip I might be on when I pass through the city and go to the office to get my mail. Not to mention, really heavy packages cost me more money. If you keep it under 4 or 5 pounds, it’s about 5o cents or a dollar to get it, but once you get much more than that, it starts costing a lot more…like $10 or something. And 10 bucks goes a long way here. It doesn’t matter how much you pay in the states or if you tell them you don’t want the receiver to pay anything. That’s just how it works here. There’s no way around it, I will have to pay for everything sent to me. It doesn’t help to send it by FedEx or DHL or something either, I still end up paying. And the truth is, I don’t need that much stuff :) A nice little package and a heartfelt letter is by far enough to brighten my day. Now, if every once in a while you want to take the plunge and send me something big, I’m not going to gripe too much. But in general, smaller is better.

ARRIVAL TIME: It has taken anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 months for things to arrive here. Packages definitely take more time than letters or cards. So just keep that in mind.

CONTENTS IN GENERAL: Usually in the states they have you make a “detailed list” of the packages contents. If for some odd reason you have enclosed something valuable (NOT recommended), don’t mark it on there. Just say it’s cookies and socks or books or something. The Bolivian postal service is less than reliable and anything that appears to have value will definitely be looted.

Onto what to send. While I appreciate all the junk food and candy, it is not necessary to load down the package with it. Besides, most candy melts by the time I am back to my site and is a challenge to eat. Not too mention junk food is not going to help with the constant threat of diarrhea. Plus I don’t want to engordarme (get fat). Long story short, instead of sending the 4 pound thunder bag of M&M’s, a pack or two might be more appropriate. As far as food is concerned, better things to send are Clif Bars, dried fruit (or fruit snacks, yum!), and other things that might actually improve my health as opposed to hinder it. I don’t have the greatest diet in the world and all the candy isn’t helping. A lot of people have sent nuts (peanuts, cashews, etc). Keep that up, they are a great snack that is pretty good for me too. Anything you need a microwave for is out, same goes for things that might require milk. Standard stuff you can make with just boiling water serves just fine.

NOTE: A few people have been so awesome as to send me cans of my favorite food, Skyline Chili. While this is an incredibly awesome gesture (and my family even thinks it’s pretty good) I’m going to politely ask you all to hold off on it. I want to save my tummy for the real thing as soon as I get back and it’s just not the same out of the can. All the same, I devoured the three cans I was sent in about a week and a half.

For some reason, I have gotten a ton of Pringles. I like Pringles just fine, and maybe people think because they are in a can instead of a bag that they won’t get smashed to bits, but this is sadly incorrect. Almost every can I’ve gotten has been more or less a bunch of crumbs. So take note. Perhaps some Snyder’s of Hanover hard pretzels might survive the trip better, hint hint.

Disclaimer: I have PLENTY of socks. I wear socks maybe once or twice a week and the pairs I have will do me just fine for the rest of my service. Many thanks, but socks are not something I can put to good use unless I need to make a puppet show. Same goes for bandannas (thanks Kreiner & Morgan). I think I have more bandannas then underwear, and I gave away about 10. I’m not making this up.

WHAT I WANT MOST: Pictures! Send me photos of stuff going on back home…family gatherings, a night out at the bars in Columbus, anything! Most of you know I’m a picture junkie…so please send me a few windows into what’s going on back home.

ALWAYS GOOD TO SEND:

Pocket size bottles of hand sanitizer. Bolivia is a germ filled land. Again, no need to send the biggest bottle you can find…I am usually on the move and the little bottles work perfect.

A couple AA or AAA batteries. The only things I use batteries for are my headlamp and minidisk player, neither of which burn through batteries very quickly at all. Again, the 35 pack of Duracells is overkill. Just throw a couple in if you’ve got them lying around.

Music or Outdoor magazines. Specifically Rolling Stone. News magazines and sports magazines are kind of a waste on me, unless they pertain to Ohio State.

Books. I have a ton of books to read, but now’s the time to get in all those crazy philosophical “find yourself” books everyone should read, like “Catcher in the Rye.” (already read that one, by the way). Anything that’s been an inspiration to you or moved you or made you think hard about something. If I’ve already read it, no worries, I can donate it to the Peace Corps library for volunteers after me to read. That being said, a few specific books I’d like are “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by I Don’t Know, “The Price of Loyalty” by Ronald Suskin, “Zenn & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” by I don’t know either. Anything by John Steinbeck except the ones I’ve read, which are as follows: “Grapes of Wrath,” “Of Mice & Men” and “Travels With Charley.” All which I highly recommend. On the spanish front, "Memoria de Mis Putas Tristes" by Gabirel Garcia Marquez would be sweet. Steph, I'm counting on you to find that one. Also, Ben Coleman got me hooked on the Stephen King Dark Tower Series. I’ve made it through the first two books, a friend has the third, but I’m lacking Volumes 4-7. I suggest Half Price Books for all your book purchases (not just for me, but for yourselves as well). Great store.

Music. My immense music collection got left behind in the states. So I’m lacking in that department. Any cds you think a person shouldn’t live without or just ones you know I love or think I’d like. I specifically like mixes. Please help provide the soundtrack for my Peace Corps Service. I bought some speakers to plug into my laptop and everything, so now all I need is stuff to play. Off the top of my head, I’d like to have back the following albums: “Songs You Know By Heart” by Jimmy Buffet, any Jack Johnson album, any Dave Matthews Band album but especially “Live at Red Rocks” and “Crash,” “Rumors” by Fleetwood Mac and “The Wall” by Pink Floyd. Just so you know, I have “Dark Side of the Moon,” no need to send that. Please don't buy these cds, burn them if you have them and send me those copies. Yes, it's kind of illegal but I own all of them at home, so it's really not stealing.

Floss. I prefer Glide. Proper dental care is important. And flossing just feels great. Also good is Eclipse gum. Not that it's healthy for my teeth but nobody likes a guy with bad breath, regardless of how much curly hair he has.

Blank Video Tapes. I'm running low on blank video tapes...and without a camera the videocamera is the best way to remember stuff. What I need are MiniDV tapes...they are tiny little cassettes that are 60 minutes of tape. Any questions can be directed to Uncle Bill.

All in all, I feel pretty special that lots of people send me packages. Not everyone get so much love through the mail, and people always give me crap for taking up so much space on the shelves. So keep the pacakges coming!

I will try and get some more blogs up in the next couple of days...sorry I have been a little aloof...I need to keep my fanbase updated!

Take care, enjoy the December cold, and send some my way if you can. Best.

Ben