There´s a civic strike today. I´m catching some rays while I leisurely write in my notebook. I came into the city last night to have dinner with some friends and found out about the strike after the time taxis stop running to Valle. So now I´m stuck here because cars, buses and tree branches are parked across major roads, impeding the flow of traffic. The country is in a state of unrest related to the installment of a new constitution, but one wouldn´t notice by the streets of Tarija city where citizens joyride on bikes and motorcycles, the only vehicles slender enough to slip between that sideways pickup truck and the curb. Kids play soccer on streets they share with pedestrians who straddle the broken line because they can.

This morning I awoke to explosions. Firecrackers attempt to lure you to a rally in the plaza or are shot for no apparent reason at all. I largely ignore these sudden disruptions of peace and quiet. A plane passes overhead, one of maybe three flights that enters and leaves Tarija on any given day, and this makes me happy. Only in very extreme cases of civic strike and political sketchiness do the airports stop functioning. If today´s strike does not affect flights, it gives me hope that the strike rumored for next Friday will not tamper with the first leg of my journey home.

Do I wish I were in Valle right now? Sort of. Is it because I feel like I´m wasting time here in the city where nothing can be accomplished except the writing of this blog and other vital internet activities? Not really. I´m supposed to be finishing the construction of a latrine, and the alcaldía promises to buy the rest of my materials ¨tomorrow.¨ Tomorrow never comes, and I suspect it won´t arrive in time for construction to be completed before I leave. The half-finished latrine will likely sit until January when I will reiniciate my campaign for ¨tomorrow.¨ If you want to hear a real spiel, ask me about the bricks.

Anyway, it can hardly be said that I´m wasting time. I´m working on my tan, which is very important in American society, whereas the Bolivians tell me how lucky I am to be pasty white. Of course here also simultaneously exist discrimination against darker skinned fellow countrymen and the belief that black people bring good luck. But despite one´s ranking of different shades of brown skin, white is nationally recognized as a good thing. Seven out of ten men on the street agree. One volunteer recently stated, ¨I get worried if I´m walking in public and don´t hear any catcalls. I start compulsively checking myself out in shop windows to figure out what´s wrong.¨ Which brings me to an item that hovers near the top of my list of ¨Things I Look Forward to About Going Home¨: Timid men. The rest of the list is as follows, in no particular order:

-noise ordinances
-Mom and Dad
-ethnic food
-traffic laws
-chocolate that tastes good
-public gayness
-flushing toilet paper
-pretty cars
-price tags
-your face
-friendly dogs
-fidelity
-feminism
-stoves that light themselves
-real Christmas trees
-customary service with a smile
-driving
-my down comforter on cold snowy nights
-carpet
-turn signals
-less proactive beggars
-environmental awareness
-getting smoothly in and out of bed without having to unzip anything
-family holiday gatherings
-water pressure
-skim milk straight out of the fridge
-sidewalks that don´t disappear
-large shoe sizes for women
-toasters
-sarcasm
-music variety
-hot water from the tap
-drinkable water from the tap
-seatbelts
-general good smelliness

I have a medium-lengthed spiel prepared for each of the topics above. I won´t get started now, but feel free to bring them up in the future. I´m sure that after spending some time in the U.S. I´ll have a list of things I miss about Bolivia. I already anticipate a few. I´m sure when I´m stuck in angry traffic in a snowstorm while late for an appointment in a place where I´ll be conscious of the fact that I´m the least tan person in the room, I´ll be daydreaming of beautiful, sunny civic strike days in Tarija serenaded by chanting crowds and firecrackers.