Relato

Good afternoon from the student lounge at Maryknoll, where I am typing this digest for you. I attended Mass at the mission center chapel and had lunch with Father Ken and the priests and lay volunteers. Now I am hanging out here and waiting for the evening screening of The Professor and the Madman, or El Profesor y el Loco. The making of the Oxford English Dictionary is an unlikely subject for a feature film. To see such a movie dubbed into Spanish is even less likely. But this screening is free and I have nothing more important to do, so there we go!

There is a small commotion outside. A group of school children are drilling and marching in the basketball court next to the mission center property. They are singing along to some martial music. Are they practicing for Bolivian Independence Day, only six days away?

It was a tiring morning of classes, typical of Wednesdays. I was grateful for the diversion of our weekly conference at 11 a.m. Profesor Osvaldo, who is leading the weekend trip to La Paz, which the majority of the students here are making, gave a very clear and very engaging presentation on the attractions of La Paz and Copacabana at Lago Titicaca.

I have lost the desire to travel to new and exotic locations. My soul flew from Bolivia almost a month ago, and my mind has all but lifted off, as distracted as I feel in prayer and in studies. But it does look like I will make a field trip tomorrow morning with Profesoras Liliana and Vicky to Tarata. I visited the Franciscan retreat center there with the friars of Convento San Francisco the day before Ash Wednesday, but I cannot say that I saw Tarata itself. Tomorrow the opportunity presents itself to see this town and get a flavor of the people and the culture of the community.

The despedida for Brother Scott and me is coming together. It looks like there will be at least 13 people, so we will make it more like a potluck so that there is plenty of food for everybody.

The sky is clear and blue, the sun is shining brightly, and the moon is new and invisible. The next time I see the full moon, I will be in New York City, provided the light pollution does not get in the way. Only a week and a half of August stand between me and my homeland. The month of July has gone by very slowly. I hope these final 11 days, cold and breezy August days, go swiftly with the wind.