Finding My Bolivian Juice Lady and Other Stories

My Bolivian Juice Lady

When I was in Cusco, Peru during my gap year my spanish teacher took Austin girl and me to a huge market where there was a section that was all juice ladies. They had their fruit, their blenders, their milk and they were ready to make me as many smoothies as I wanted. It was one of my favorite discoveries of the trip.

Yesterday, I didn't have class in the afternoon so I met up with Tasha, Laura, and Olivia and we explored the city a little bit. We went to "El Mercado 25 de Mayo" which is a food market with lots of mini restaurants and food stalls. There, I miraculously found my Bolivian juice lady. I ordered my favorite banana and milk (next time I'll get banana mango and milk) and immediately made plans to return to the juice lady as often as I could. My smoothie costs 4 bolivianos which is a little more than 50 American cents. Sweet!

The market was a little bit overwhelming with every food vendor calling to us and lots of people and different smells, but I really enjoyed it. I like the atmosphere of these huge markets where many local people go to eat. The other day my host sister, Marita, took me to a different market (which I thought was also called 25 de Mayo but perhaps I was confused) that was filled with every type of food you could imagine but it had so much more character than any old supermarket.

Laura and Olivia ordered sundaes instead of getting a smoothie.
They were huge and had fruit, jello, whipped cream and a
cookie on them. 

Yesterday was the fourth birthday we've had in my group since we got here. A tradition in Bolivia is, after they birthday person blows out the candles, they take the first bite from the cake with no hands and then somebody shoves their face in the cake. The first time this happened I think everybody was very surprised (or at least I was). Yesterday was Karen's birthday and she didn't want anybody to shover her face in the cake so instead she did it herself. My group of 24 somehow seems to have a birthday every week we're here so I am looking forward to many more cakes, but luckily I don't have to have my face shoved into one. It is a funny tradition but also kind of a waste of perfectly good cake in my opinion.

Last night I went with Marita to a Bolivian club. I guess it was the only discoteca in her neighborhood so she knew what seemed like every person there, they were all people she had grown up with. They played a combination of American and Bolivian music, but it was surprisingly not all that different than any club you'd go to anywhere else. I was very underdressed because I did not bring fancy clothes with me, plus I don't really own clubbing clothes anyway, but it was a cool experience. The spanish combined with the noise meant I didn't really understand anything anybody was saying to me so I just nodded and smiled as much as possible. I also discovered that Bolivians in general know how to dance way better than my friends at home--no offense guys.

This is a 10 Bolivano bill, about 1.50 USD.
I think they drawing of the guy is super weird, but the money overall is pretty.
I still don't understand why American money is all one color. Boring.