Fin de la Linea

The micro was rattling on for forty five minutes before I looked out the window, realized the paved roads had ended, everyone had climbed off and I was in the sole company of Ramón, the driver, and we were stopping. “Fin de la linea, señorita.” he told me. End of the line. Wait, but I was supposed to be at work. Why was I surrounded by green fields and small houses and that one store that had the whole chickens hanging on a clothesline? “Donde estamos?” I asked with wide eyes and a bad accent.  Where are we? And he just looked at me, probably thinking, “Silly American girl. What are you doing in my country?”  “Lo siento, señorita. Por favor, baja,” he said. “Puedes esperar hasta el otro micro viene.” I’m sorry, please get off. You can wait until the next micro comes. But which micro? I don’t even know where I am; let alone which bus passes by or where it will take me. “Cual?” I asked. Which? He sighed, and told me that the same line would pass by, “cientoquince, señorita” 115. At least I understood the numbers. “Take it in the other direction and it will take you back.”  “Gracias maestro,” I said to him as I climbed down the three stairs and he opened his door.  Chau, Ramón. He changed his bus’s number, took a sip of Coca Cola, and pulled away, his exhaust and the dirt from his tires puffing into the distance. And there I was, in the middle of Bolivia, without a phone to call my family, and kilometers outside of the city. So I did the only thing I could think of. I sat down and waited. Yeah, these are white pants, but who cares if I’ve got some dirt on my butt.


End of the line. I am home safe after twenty one grueling hours of travel. My three months of wonderful service work have passed, and unfortunately, I won't be in Bolivia for the next eight months. It's the end of my line, as far as SALT goes for the 2011-2012 year. I will be starting at Goshen College in January, and until then, I will live in Kansas City and help my parents with the construction of our new house. It is a bit bittersweet to be home, but I know that I have wonderful friends and new families and even though I will miss them dearly, with the technology that we have today, I will be able to keep in contact. I feel truly incredibly blessed to have lived in Bolivia, even for such a short time of three months, and I know that it's not my last visit to that culturally rich country.