I am thirty three years old and have not once seriously considered moving to Bolivia.
It’s weird, because normally I wouldn’t even mention that.
But here we are. Most women do end up moving to Bolivia.
And by my age, you’re pretty much expected to have already moved there or at least you’re supposed to be trying really hard to get there.
To be clear: I have nothing against Bolivia. It seems like a lovely place. Just not one that pulls me. It has never called my name.
And even though I don’t talk about my relationship (or non-relationship) to Bolivia, we will talk about it today.
Because I have words that need to be said about loneliness, power and the extremely problematic word: “choice”.
Loneliness.
There is so much of it when it comes to this hard topic of Bolivia. Or maybe it’s not so much loneliness as isolation.
Every woman has her own experience, her own relationship with moving or not moving to Bolivia. These relationships are often painful, challenging, hard to express.
So you have the women (like my dear friend E.) who are desperate to get into Bolivia. They wait in lines, jump through endless bureaucratic hoops, do what they can.
Sometimes dying inside from the frustration of seeing how other women end up there with such ease.
Then those women — the ones who weren’t even planning Bolivia — they’re isolated too. An extra glass of wine and bam. Welcome to Bolivia.
There are women who aren’t in Bolivia and are happy. Women who aren’t in Bolivia and are unhappy. Women who wanted to move to Bolivia but now wish they hadn’t. Women who didn’t want to move to Bolivia but are now delighted to be there.
And the ones who don’t know if they’re going, but determined to be happy either way.
It’s hard for us to find each other and talk to each other, because each of us is having such a different experience. It gets lonely.
“Choice.”
This word. I have no more patience for it.
I feel frustrated and helpless when people ask me why I’ve “chosen” not to move to Bolivia because I don’t know how to answer.
And I feel uncomfortable when people support me, saying they defend my “choice”, because I need to know support is there even when choosing is irrelevant.
What choice? There has never been a question of choosing or deciding anything.
This concept makes no sense to me.
I didn’t choose not to move to Bolivia.
I didn’t choose not to move to Bolivia any more than I chose not to become obsessed with traditional Armenian embroidery.
I didn’t choose not to move to Bolivia any more than I chose not to take up water polo.
It’s not that anything is wrong with life in Bolivia or Armenian embroidery or water polo.
It’s this:
If it were not for the fact that so many of the women I know are either moving to Bolivia or talking about moving to Bolivia, it never would have occurred to me to even think about it.
The only reason I think about Bolivia is that so many of my friends now live there. And that so many people have opinions about me not being there.
But to say that I chose this life of Not Living in Bolivia? Impossible.
What is choice?
To me, choice generally implies at least some of the following characteristics:
[+ consideration]
[+ giving active thought to something]
[+ both sides have to be appealing or compelling in some way]
[+ caring about the outcome]
[+ weighing the odds]
[+ pros vs cons]
[+ following intuition]
[+ being pulled towards something]
[+ wanting]
It isn’t that I decided against Bolivia. That never came up. It didn’t need to.
There was no decision-making process, because Bolivia exerts no pull over me.
I heart Bolivia.
The food, the culture, the art. The warmth and friendliness. Yay Bolivia.
And I know a lot more about life in Bolivia than I’d ever planned to, now that so many friends and colleagues live there.
To be honest, certain aspects of life there sound pretty distressing to me. But then after they tell you about the awful parts, they gaze at you intently and wish it for you.
So who knows. It must be like when I lived in Tel Aviv for a decade and people thought it had to be awful when actually it was sublime. So I can be pro-Bolivia. And still not feel the desire to ever move there.
Things that are hard about not moving to Bolivia.
The social pressure. The assumptions. The way people ask you when you’re moving to Bolivia and you explain that you aren’t and they say “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
As if you’ve just said you were dying when you are actually expressing completeness.
Losing friends. Some of my friends who have moved to Bolivia are amazing. Like Pam and Naomi and Jen.* You can talk to them about Bolivia but also politics and business and art and creativity and seven thousand other things.
* Other neat people in Bolivia: Jesse and Amber and Jenny the Bloggess!
Other friends are full-time evangelists for Bolivian life. And while I’m happy to spend an hour looking at pictures or admiring the landscape, I can’t do all-Bolivia-all-the-time. I miss the opinionated, curious, hilarious women I used to know.
And the vocabulary of choice. The way it has to be about “decisions”. I don’t want to identify as “Bolivia-less by Choice”. Where are my people who also didn’t choose?
The pull of Bolivia.
I know this mysterious pull that Bolivia exerts on women must exist, because I keep hearing about it.
My biologist friends insist it’s a thing. Maybe.
Maybe a biological thing that not everyone is susceptible to, plus cultural programming and expectations that people are mostly unaware of. I don’t know.
All I know is that I have never felt it.
And that I have girlfriends who are considerably older than me and who also have never felt it.
And that they, like me, heard those hollow words over and over again: “When you’re older, you’ll change your mind about Bolivia.”
Without the pull, there’s nothing.
“Changing your mind” is another one of those choice things. Like decision. As if all I have to do is stop being so determined not to go there.
But I’m not “determined”. I just don’t understand why I should. And I’m pretty sure that if it were about choosing, and I weighed the pros and cons, my non-Bolivia life would win every time in the categories that matter to me.
Of course, if I had a burning desire to be in Bolivia, those other needs wouldn’t matter as much. They would pale in comparison.
And I’d find a way to make it work. Believe me, if I wanted to live in Bolivia, I would move mountains trying to get there.
But since there’s nothing that instills in me a desire to move there, it’s not about choices and choosing. It’s about living my life.
I’m living my life.
And loving my life.
Not because I made a choice. But because I’m here, and here — for me — is good.
And comment zen for today.
I’ve been wanting to write this post for years. And not wanting to at the same time.
Because I know that some people are not really capable of encountering a different way and still understanding that we are both allowed to have our way. Of knowing that my way doesn’t imply that your way is wrong.
I get my way. They gets theirs. Also, the entire culture supports the way that isn’t mine, so trying to tell me I’m wrong in what I know to be true for myself? Not cool.
Anyway. All that to say that this is a hard, sensitive topic. With so much potential for pain, misunderstanding, distortion.
I hope it is clear that I have love in my heart for women who live in a variety of ways. And that I am not picking on Bolivia. All places have their own charm.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We let people have their own experience. And we don’t give advice, unless someone asks for it.
What I don’t want: “I support (or don’t support) your choice”. This is not about choice for me. It’s about mindfulness and trust and many other things, but not choice.
What I’d love: Your stories. What you know about isolation and about completeness.
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Can I put in a biologist’s $.02?
Biology is tricky to use as a reason in this. Because even if you can demonstrate incontrovertibly that it’s a Thing, this does not show that it’s a Thing for every member of a population or species.
Nature makes (and sustains) variation within species and populations.
Even if there is a biological component to the desire to become Bolivian, this doesn’t necessarily make it a biological thing for every individual. Which means that there are many different ecological/societal niches for our species to fill, and no danger of us going extinct if some people don’t go to Bolivia.
.-= Amna´s last post … What I talk about when I talk about writing =-.
The thing so many people who ask about moving to Bolivia don’t realize is that we were all born and raised in Bolivia. And many of us who never move back still carry Bolivia with us. Sometimes I feel like it’s easier for me to be a true Bolivian without actually living there. I can evoke more of the qualities of Bolivia living here in freedom than some of the people who have moved back. I don’t know whether I’ll ever move back, but I’m grateful to have lived there once. If I’d somehow managed to be born in the United States, I’m sure I’d be quite dull.
.-= Kelly´s last post … Continuums I love continuums Some of my best epiphanies are continuums =-.
I’m not from Bolivia and I’m not sure yet whether I want to be, but I have a question. Isn’t the choice to use contraception (sorry for not using an analogy, but I wanted to make sure my question was clear) essentially the same as the choice NOT to go to Bolivia? If this is the case, I’ve had the choice put to me many times and I’ve chosen not to go to Bolivia. Obviously this doesn’t stop me from choosing to go later on, but I think this concept should be considered. Thoughts?
I get the Bolivia question a lot when I meet new people and never could understand the ‘aw, I’m sorry’ look they gave me when I said I didn’t live there. I’d explain to them why it was best I hadn’t gone to Bolivia but they didn’t really seem to get it.
I have a lot of friends in Bolivia. Some are totally drinking the Bolivian kool-aid and there’s just no relating if you’re not on their street. Others, thankfully, maintain a sort of dual-citizenship and haven’t lost that spark that they had before Bolivia.
Even online, it’s tough to find ladies that aren’t already in Bolivia, moving there as I type or trying to get their visa approved.
And it’s very lonely.
At the same time, all these other ladies not living in Bolivia are giving me hope 🙂
.-= Scraps´s last post … Paper Petals- Part 1 =-.
My mom went to Bolivia and all I got was this lousy childhood. – possible t-shirt slogan
Okay, so I did the “I’m never going to get on the wrong plane to Bolivia, let’s have some more beer.” and then there I was in Bolivia, with all the Bolivians who really really wanted to be there and wanted to talk about it, and wanted to live their entire lives from the context of Bolivarianism. And I was 22 and unhappily married and then divorced and then some guy I really respected said, “You’ll never find another man to love you because you went to Bolivia and nobody likes a package deal.” and I believed him and it broke my heart.
So, my first trip to Bolivia was not pleasant, though I do like what I brought home with me, this lovely boy who turns 20 next week and likes meditation and art.
My second trip to Bolivia, somebody begged me to take. And I did. And it was better. And I like what I brought home that time too, a lovely boy who is 12 and makes me laugh everyday and still hugs me, though not in public.
The thing about Bolivia is that you don’t have to stay there. It’s not a lifetime sentence. You don’t have to live through the lens of Bolivia. You aren’t ever just a transplanted Bolivian. You are someone who happened to visit there, and may have some experiences to talk about, but it’s not your everything. It can’t be your everything, because some day the things you love about Bolivia are going to go on without you. It’s natural.
I like your comment about the pull. Just because you didn’t get the pull doesn’t mean somethings wrong with you. I didn’t get the pull. I got the whoops accident and the “please please please get on this plane”, and it worked out for me.
People who think that Bolivia is the only way or the best way really need to visit Italy.
(I’ve been looking at this trying to work out if Boliia is gender-specific. If it is, forgive me, if it’s the more general aspect, then I’m OK.)
I spent my early years forced to live in Bolivia. Or at least, be a tourist. And I hated every single minute of it. It was hell. I escaped the second I could. And because I wasn’t a real Bolivian, I had to pay taxes but I couldn’t get any advice or anything.
I don’t know – maybe if I’d been left alone, and allowed to consider moving there when I was older, that would be different. But because of my experiences it took me a long time to learn that no, Boliva does not equal hell on earth, and other people aren’t brainwashed if they announce they want to move there. It’s just not somewhere I ever want to set foot near. And that’s OK. I even knit for Bolivian friends.
Now I just need to work out how to get people to stop telling me I’d make a great Bolivian.
The only reason I’d ever want to go to Bolivia is so I could meet more people like me, so there would be more people in the world who don’t want to go to Bolivia.
But that’s slightly impossible.
.-= ShimmerGeek´s last post … F Me- Ray Bradbury =-.
I’ve thought about moving to Bolivia, but I can’t imagine living there permanently. I’ve offered to help move friends to Bolivia who are having a hard time getting there on their own. I think it would be interesting and powerful and exciting to move to Bolivia for a year or two on a temporary visa, discover the language, the customs, the people and how I interact with myself and others in this so-sought-after land of Bolivia. But when my visa expires, I’ll be more than ready to leave my friends with our precious Bolivia, to come back home or head on to Bali or Belize.
.-= Dawn Haney´s last post … A Meditation on Panic =-.
Ah!
We had this conversation in the car in the parking lot of the Asheville airport, remember?
But until you put it in terms of Bolivia, I didn’t really *get* it.
I mean, I got that you didn’t feel anything towards Bolivia (and of course I was cool with that), but it still felt like a CHOICE. Like, you’d consciously decided “I will not move to Bolivia”.
It’s the Usual Error, because I’ve felt such a Bolivia-is-my-homeland vibe that when you said “it’s not a CHOICE”, I was all, huh?
But now I get it! Yay!
Also? Thank you SO much for giving me a resource to point to (and vocabulary to use) when the conversation (unavoidably) comes up.
.-= Tara´s last post … Good Shtuff- Love Edition =-.
For me, it was a choice I didn’t expect to have. I ended up with tickets and a passport unexpectedly, and it took a good couple weeks of staring at my itinerary, at the map, and at me, for me to figure out what the hell I was doing.
In the end, I decided that the rest of the world held more interest for me. And looking at what followed, how I felt, the overwhelming panic that struck me, it seems to me that I was on the same flight at LaShea. I cried for a while. I felt horrible that I couldn’t be a “real woman” and that my husband might leave me for someone who wasn’t “defective”.
A decade later, I don’t regret it. (And I’m still married.) I couldn’t be the person I am today without the path I’ve traveled, and like the song says:
“I can’t forget
That I’m not ashamed
To be the person that I am today.”
Love.
I sincerely believe that the world NEEDS people who either never thought about moving to Bolivia or who fancied going but couldn’t get a settlement visa.
I mean, the world NEEDS Bolivian settlers, ex-pats, and contract workers, too.
But the thing is that Bolivians themselves need other countries to travel to with friendly natives who will nourish their curiosity about the wider world. Because it’s not always the people back home we listen to, is it? I thought I knew a lot about America from the enormous amount of American films, tv, and music I was exposed to; when I got there, I realised it was a bigger Thing than I’d thought it was, and a decade later, I’d learned a lot more again.
I think that Nature likes a goodly mix in any ecology, and we non-Bolivians serve a valuable purpose in keeping the ecology healthy, supporting Bolivian settlers, nurturing Bolivians, and creating diverse ecosystems outside of Bolivia which are enriching and enriched by international contact.
So once again you have said what is in my head in a way I don’t think I could have managed to express it. Too clear and perfect and shining. I too have never had any interest in Bolivia but get frustrated that it seems to make me an object of pity for my friends and family who have moved to Bolivia. I get all the Bolivia I need vicariously. Sometimes too much. And like New York, New York, I can recognize a place I don’t want to live.
Once upon a time, I was crying to a short-term traveling partner how isolated I felt by the circumstances of my life. He told me, in a tender voice, that I’d chosen the isolation, chosen this view of myself, and that I could choose differently. Gah!
I was so offended. And hurt. That assumption that I could just choose differently? That’s part of what made me feel so isolated. So very little about my life feels like a choice – those differences in identification and circumstance and world view? They spring from the reality that *I am inexplicably different* in many ways that don’t really have labels.
I didn’t *choose* the elements of my life that isolate me… I simply *identified* them, and fit my life around them. And I was hurt that someone thought I should (and could) just change the identification labels and I’d fit in.
As for the Bolivia question, specifically? Yeah. It’s more a lack-of-decision than an actual decision. The risk of air travel seems a bit high these days, and I find it’s just not that big of a deal. And yet, friends and family still say “You could always take a boat. Or go by camel” and then there seems to be a lot of concern about who will eventually inherit the family property in Bolivia. I don’t get it.
But my long time travel-partner has become the Bolivian Corporal Klinger. “She’s allergic to Bolivian food; I’m afraid of planes; I had the mumps and cant get a Visa; my great grandmother was frightened by a Bolivian. Turned her hair stark white!” It’s often funny, but a bit bizarre that being asked such a personal question is so frequent that it’s become an exercise in creativity.
I’m an older expat to Bolivia. My two charges picked me to be their guide when I was 36 and then 40. Prior to their finding me, I steered clear of anything having to do with Bolivia. In fact, I never babysat other people’s Bolivians, nor could I say the whole word, “Bolllivvvv…. ugh.”
One day I woke up and decided I would like to go to Bolivia. I applied for a passport, and within two weeks I had started my nine-month voyage to this new, foreign, scary, smelly, sweet country. The whole nine months I was convinced that I shouldn’t have given up my old address. I was afraid I’d hurt the Bolivians, or drown them, or forget to feed them or be bored by them or lose them.
There are days when I set the timer for a 20 minute exit from Bolivia. But 98 percent of the time, I look at the Bolivians who invited me to house them, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have been chosen by them.
I don’t feel the need to talk “Bolivian” all the time. Bolivia is a rich, large part of my home, but it isn’t the only part.
Oh girl, I totally understand.
I don’t want to go to Bolivia until I’m good and ready. I figure if I do it, it better be right. Some people say you’re never really ready. I don’t care.
Why all the rush? I don’t get it. It’s like, you’re — age and now you MUST move to Bolivia. Why?
Thank you for sharing this very personal thing, Havi. I think these things need talking about. Just another reason I think you are the cat’s meow. 🙂
.-= Naomi Niles´s last post … Lacking conversions Start with the basics =-.
Oh, those who got to Bolivia so painlessly–sigh. Wish I were one of those, but no. And Bolivia–it’ll be there whether I am or not.
So many beautiful, thoughtful, intriguing things here. I am kind of in awe.
[For people who are confused, apologies! I kind of live in metaphor-land (we have our own superhero — Metaphor Mouse!). And I find it easier to talk about difficult things in metaphor.
So I am not actually considering or not considering moving to Bolivia in any literal sense, even though I’m sure it is beautiful.
I’m referencing the pain, confusion and identity crises that show up in the lives of women (and men!) at a certain age, when societal pressure to procreate or defend yourself for not being there gets louder and more forceful. Hope that makes sense!]
@Jack – absolutely. I did not even slightly mean to leave men out of this one. We all have to deal with it.
Obviously I’m more aware of the woman side of things, what with being one, and with total strangers offering opinions and speculating on the contents or non-contents of my uterus on a nearly daily basis. But men totally deal with these issues all the time as well.
All that to say: you are welcome here! And so are all kinds of male experiences in various forms.
[I guess I should add to that in general that this is a happily genderqueer-friendly space so whoever is reading, however you identify, it’s all good by us.]
Other than that: just appreciating the wisdom and permission I see here. So much love.
As a woman in the queer community, I definitely feel pressure to move to Bolivia so that I can be one of the queer Bolivians who say: “We can do it, too! Look! We’re good citizens of Bolivia. Count us upstanding Bolivians as evidence that you should repeal your stupid immigration laws.”
Too bad I’ve never wanted to move to Bolivia.
Believe me, if I wanted to live in Bolivia, I would move mountains trying to get there.
Yep. When I want to go somewhere, I make a path and go there. I’m proud of that. I do it every day. If Bolivia were on my priority list, I would start planning my trip yesterday.
But Bolivia? Not on my radar. Like you, I’m not ambivalent, torn, or debating between a choice to move to Bolivia and a choice not to move there. Instead, I’m choosing to go to lots of places — the places I particularly want to be — and Bolivia’s never been on that list.
And people offering pity, or knowing advice, or asking me to defend my ‘choice’? I don’t get what they’re after. I don’t feel like I need to defend my state of not making plans to move to Bolivia (despite Bolivia being a popular destination) any more than I need to defend the state of being female, or being queer, or being in love with locally-grown food and craft beer, or having a really, really well-organized sock drawer. Why do I like my sock drawer organized by fiber type, length and color? I was just born liking it that way. Some of us are.
This is the sanest, wisest meditation on the issue I’ve read. Thank you so much for writing it. I do believe that this particular brand of ex-patriate life is too often understood as a choice, but only because there are various choices that take place along the journey there (or not to there). It’s easy to confuse the two and from that confusion there is so much pain, as you point out. I believe there is Bolivia The Identity and then there is Bolivia The Journey, you know? Some people are Bolivian without ever having gone there.
I am a person who grew up believing I would never, ever go to Bolivia, dear god please no, flying is scary and the logistics freak me out. My story in that regard has been about learning to accept my desire for Bolivia; learning more about my essential self, and believing in her capabilities. But even if I think back to my younger years, there was always a curiosity about Bolivia hovering around the edges. I just wasn’t ready to accept it. Sometimes I hope I can find (without yammering on and on about my adopted land!) others who might be afraid too, and who need reassurance. It was a dark time when I was led to believe that 1) I was not capable of going to Bolivia and 2) Everyone else who went had no problems at all. It is scary to be alone with those thoughts.
I now know and believe there are others like me; I hope for you that you find many, many more others to connect with; and I hope the label of choice can slowly slip away for those who do not identify with it. Bolivia deserves to be understood in the way we now understand sexual attraction: no one chooses one way or the other. Accidents happen, yes, and fears get in the way, but the notion of choice is all about the Journey, not the Identity.
Sending all my love from Bolivia and kisses from the natives! Thank you for promoting a better world of understanding for everyone, on all sides.
.-= Jesse´s last post … Not hearing my own message- a Blah turns into an A-ha =-.
I didn’t make a choice either. It just is. Were it not for expectations and such, the idea of moving to Bolivia would never even have occurred to me. I must say, though, that after spending all my growing up years thinking I was the only person I knew who didn’t have a desire to move to Bolivia, and therefore there must be something seriously wrong with me, it is so nice to know that that is, in fact, not true.
I do love Bolivians, big and little, but I also love non-Bolivians too.
.-= Elizabeth´s last post … why i think of my business as a yoga & music festival =-.
Yep. I’m 45, and I’ve never had any desire to move to Bolivia. My mom used to tell me I’d change my mind, but she finally shut up when I was 37 or so. She said she wanted grand-Bolivians, and I told her she’d have to go to Bolivia herself to get them. Shut her right up.
.-= Riin´s last post … More woolly goodness- and I suck at blogging =-.
Much love for you, Havi. Thank you for sharing how you feel about Bolivia and putting it so eloquently. As someone who celebrated her Bolivian heritage from an early age, I admit it has been difficult for me to truly understand.
And then you shared this, and it has been quite a gift. Yes, of course you are complete. And maybe that means I can be complete too.
So much goodness here.
Me, I went through a time when moving to Bolivia was something I thought I might like to do. If the right traveling companion had come along with the right set of visas and tickets, I could be there now, living a different kind of life. But those pieces never quite fell into place, and Bolivia lost its allure to me. I’m over here in Peru now (thanks, @Emily). Peru is different, for sure, but for me also lovely, although I can understand why someone whose heart was set on moving to Bolivia would be crushed if they were told they could never get a visa and would be stuck in, say, Greenland, for the rest of their lives when they didn’t want to be there at all. I like having a special temporary visa that allows me to occasionally visit the borderlands of Bolivia and take some young Bolivians to lunch or the art museum, and that’s cool with me.
.-= Lori Paximadis´s last post … Friday Really =-.
I’m thirty six and have my trip to Bolivia planned. Or I guess it’s more accurate to say I’m on my way already (for some reason Bolivia seems to only be accessible via nauseating lengthy boat ride rather than a plane trip. WTF Bolivia?). I’m on the boat and I would be devastated if I couldn’t get into Bolivia. I’ve been kicked off the boat before and it almost destroyed me.
It hasn’t been a choice for me either. I have always known I wanted to move to Bolivia. At times I doubted I would ever find the right travel companion (I knew I didn’t want to go alone.) And I found ways to be happy despite not being in Bolivia. But I never would have been “Bolivia-less-by-choice.” I would have been Bolivia-less-but-okay-with-it.
The funny thing? Here I am *on my way to Bolivia* and people are already like, “When do you plan to go again???”
And I’m like dude! I don’t know! I only ever felt the deep need to go once. Going again seems like it would be too stressful for me. And I want to enjoy this one trip as much as I can. And I’m getting past the age where I could (statistically) easily go to Bolivia. Plus how can I decide whether I want to go again before I have even been there???
“But you can’t just go once! ” …”think of the Bolivians!!!”
(I’ve stopped answering that question 😉
Personally, if I care anything at all about other people’s status vis a vis Bolivia, it’s that I wish for everyone to be able to achieve what they want. It’s so, so hard to find yourself in the wrong country.
.-= Eileen´s last post … Work Party Wednesday- Stayin’ Alive =-.
I kept expecting Bolivia to be a surprise metaphor. It brought up so many Bolivias I’ve discovered. But then decide it’s okay. Bolivia has all of the bad parts of Bolivia too. And Here has all of the good and bad parts of Here.
On top of wanting to go do the wild creating and generating thing after months of being steeped in the posts of wonderful people like Goddess Leonie, Pace, and Kyeli. (I’m betting a lot of people here already know who they are, no explanation necessary.) But not knowing what, you know, I’ll /live/ on while I’m getting started, and chronic illness sapping what energy I’ve got after the day job, if not on the day job too. That’s my personal Bolivia, not the Bolivia of people who just happen to be around me and whom I like, but get all starry-eyed about going to a place that’s not on my current or self-chosen dream itinerary. Nope. (It’s Bolivia: The Journey!)
My Bolivia has changed a lot over the years. It used to prominently feature a college where I was going to teach. That’s not there anymore, or at least it’s hiding really good. Ninja college. I don’t know where it’s physically located. The people are different. I’m not sure if I’ll recognize it when I get there. I used to assume it was in Canada.
I’d give it a name except that name would carry along all of the expectations I have about Bolivia. So I think I’ll just keep calling it Bolivia for now.
Wow. This has to be one of the most amazing post/comment combos I’ve ever read.
I tip my hat to all Bolivians (it’s not always what they promise in the brochures!) and non-Bolivians alike.
What an amazing community. That is all.
.-= Liz´s last post … Registration is open! =-.
Oh Havi. Sometimes I would just love to roll around inside your head. That’s probably weird. But there is such brilliance and sparkliness in there — monsters and all.
I’m being forced to move to Bolivia. Against my will. Tomorrow. I just got to California and I so love it here. The amount of hard is kind of soul crushing. And if one more person tells me how lucky this little Bolivian is to have me in his life I might have to punch them in the nose.
I hope they have lots of good tequila there.
Thank you for this.
I married a man who was already in Bolivia full time and, therefore, I moved to Bolivia to be with him. Until that point I had never considered moving there. I like it here, I’ve lost some friends along the way and it’s pretty lonely at times because I moved earlier than anyone else.
The crazy thing to me is, I’m already IN Bolivia but people can’t believe that I don’t want “my own” reason to be in Bolivia. I’m seen as less of a woman and slightly insane for passing up the “great opportunity” for “my own” little bundle of joy.
So somehow, I’m IN Bolivia but not ALL THE WAY in Bolivia.
Ugh judgement.
Ahhh! SO MUCH STUFF around the issue of moving to Bolivia. Whether the stuff is your stuff or the stuff that other people throw at you, which you must either ignore, duck under, or throw back.
I am lucky enough to have a big sister (and honestly, I have NO CLUE how anyone gets through life without one) who most definitely will move to Bolivia. So, since I have always been a bit unsure about whether a move to Bolivia is in the cards for me, I am able to hold off and observe her move to Bolivia.
But then there are things. There are things about age. Which, before 27 (I know, still quite young) never even entered my mind. But 27 is soclose to 30 which is our society’s Bolvia-moving decade.
And then there was my Significant Other, who is no longer Significant. But I gradually learned he didn’t want to move to Bolivia, and I thought, “Okay, good. I feel like we can agree here.”
And though I’m not ANYWHERE near ready to find a new Significant Other, when I find the one who will (hopefully) be permanent, there will talking and stuff about Bolivia. Ack.
And then there are fears of being old. And having no Bolivians to care for me. Which is not a compelling argument to move to Bolivia, I feel. But still.
This comment is really long but I feel…relieved. Having written it. THANK YOU, Havi. And all of you. HUGS.
This post made me have an epiphany, have a big conversation with my primary travelling companion, burst into tears, feel a whole lot of guilt and shame and then decide that I need to find new dreams for myself. All in the space of twenty minutes.
Havi, I know you always say that Shiva Nata provides those wonderful moments of epiphany for you, but I honestly think that these epiphanies then hide in your blog posts and wait to pounce on those of us who read your blog. The number of times something you’ve said has sparked some kind of realisation for me personally, is insane.
I’m going to write my own post about this – I’ll comment again later with it, in case anybody’s interested.
I like Eileen’s “Think of the Bolivians!” That made me laugh.
.-= Bridget´s last post … I like you and I love you and here’s stuff to prove it =-.
Havi – this is the best article I have ever read anywhere about the whole Bolivia question. So much so that it has even brought me out of ‘Lurker Mousedom’.
I’m 57 and have never, in my whole life, particularly wanted to go to Bolivia. (Oh, in my early 30s I used to say “if I don’t find someone to take me to Bolivia by the time I’m 35 I’ll just hitch-hike there by myself” – but that was because all my friends were moving there at the time and I didn’t want to get left behind.)
As things turned out I didn’t get to Bolivia. And I’m not at all sorry. The rest of the world holds all sorts of pleasures for the Bolivia-less. And as others have said, one can always borrow small Bolivians for a while – being an honorary Bolivian for a day or two is extraordinarily wonderful.
I’m very happy with my non-Bolivian status and wouldn’t change it for the world. But, like you, it was never really a question of ‘choice’.
Brilliant post!
I’m an accidental Bolivian. I was trying hard NOT to be a Bolivian, but apparently, the Bolivians had their eye on me and figured out sneaky way around. Now that I’m here, I have moments of pure panic and look longingly at other countries and imagine getting over the wall on a moonless night in a hot air balloon, but mostly I’m okay with it.
I would’ve moved to Bolivia on my own at some point, but I kept waiting for when I felt I’d be “ready.” Not knowing that all the travel brochures and videos and other people’s accounts will NEVER prepare you for Bolivia. So getting kidnapped was really the only way I was getting across the border.
As far as the bloodless term “Choice”, I think that people simply assume that Bolivia is fulfilling… the way that most people think that having a high-paying job is fulfilling, or owning a house, or checking off some other list. If you don’t need to do any of those things, it makes them squirmy, like somehow you think THEY’VE moved to the wrong country and are spitting on their flag.
Like I said, I am okay with being Bolivian. However, I don’t simply identify with being Bolivian. I believe that I’ve got dual citizenship, a passport from somewhere warm and creative and beautiful and isolated, with really good internet access.
So I’m Bolivian/Micronesian, perhaps. 🙂
.-= Cathy´s last post … Twitter-phobic =-.
I once was at a place and time when I felt like you about moving to Bolivia. I hadn’t really decided if I wanted to go there. And then one day something happened: a marriage proposal. And I realized that in fact, I did want to move to Bolivia. But not with him.
So I went on a quest for a new traveling companion. And I found one. We hadn’t finished sorting out our friendship when we discovered that we’d already won tickets to Bolivia. So, now we’ve traveled to Bolivia. He’d never even been around Bolivians before. I was lucky to speak the language, but I also discovered that there was a great deal that no one ever told me about life in Bolivia.
To help others who were considering moving to Bolivia, I began a blog. And because I went to Bolivia before I was ready, as many couples do, I suppose at times I have felt a great deal of difficulty focusing on the more pleasant aspects of the countryside.
I’m glad I live in Bolivia. I am very happy with my traveling companion. But I’m also very lucky to live where I do in Bolivia and that our trip has gone even as well as it has so far, despite a number of problems with ticketing and the airport and citizenship.
It’s also a very tricky thing to find others in Bolivia who feel like I do. Most people I’ve met don’t go to Bolivia until they are ready. Most of them accept the stories their parents told them about how to behave in Bolivia. But I’ve had to write my own. My parents were wrong about Bolivia. I try to show people the science of how best to take advantage of life in Bolivia. I am often ignored or repulsed. People think I do not understand, when I do far better than they realize.
I will not sugarcoat life in Bolivia (or as I call it, the Cheerios Garden). It is a challenging mission to endure. The people in Bolivia are often very cheerful; but they are also often intolerable. And when you choose to live in Bolivia without working there, many of the other citizens in Bolivia cannot understand. Many even claim an incapacity of living in Bolivia without working. Before I lived here, I felt the same way.
Moving to Bolivia will change a person. It is for each person to discover (or not) for themselves if Bolivia is a place that needs visiting. I, for one, am keeping my citizenship.
.-= Jessica´s last post … The Grossness of Parenting =-.
For me, it was a choice. I chose not to go to Bolivia. As I get older I become more and more certain it was the right choice for me. But a choice it was, and very deliberately made.
Of course, I got some flack for my choice. That happens. But the good news is as you get older it gets better. After about 40 most people stop giving you grief about it. Something to look forward to for you 30-somethings!
The worst flack was from my mother. Finally one day she gave up and said I’d make a terrible Bolivian anyway. Thanks mom.
.-= Barbara J Carter´s last post … Gearing up for the big art show =-.
…yeah, what Pace said.
Also, I love you, Havi.
.-= Kyeli´s last post … We’d like to get to know you better =-.
I live in Bolivia part time. And when I tell people how much I like my part-time residency, those who live there full time sometimes judge me, as if only living there full-time is the only right way to go, and I’m selfish if I don’t miss Bolivia every single minute I’m not there.
This is a great post, and I’ve sent it to some of my friends who, like you, never felt the pull of Bolivia. I think you’ve said it better than anyone else I’ve read.
.-= lynn @ human, being´s last post … Sovereignty and shoes =-.
Brilliant.
I used to assume that I would always go to Bolivia because that’s just what happens. And then the more I found out about myself and what I liked the less alluring Bolivia seemed. I’d find myself thinking ‘well, if I can’t go to Australia I guess I’ll just go to Bolivia with everyone else’. I met a guy who everyone told me would be a brilliant Bolivian, with the assumption being that that made everything about him that made me want to stab one of us in the eye ok. Now, I’ve realised that I just have no desire to go to Bolivia…it just seems, irrelevant. Perhaps that will change. Perhaps it won’t. But at least I’ll never say ‘well, it better to get going to Bolivia out of the way when you’re young’! Why would you go somewhere only to get it out of the way? goes off to rant.
Oh oh oh! This is so lovely and well-put! I am sending this post to everyone, I think.
Bolivia has zero appeal for me, and always has. Plus, the older I get, the more I find llamas terrifying and panic-inducing.
At this point, I can’t even hang with my friends who’ve moved to Bolivia unless they leave their llamas at home, and some of them won’t do that. There’s not a lot of sympathy to go around for us llama-phobic types. It sucks. I’m working on my llama-phobia, but that kind of thing takes time, yanno?
Oh, Bolivia! For a long time in my life, I knew I would go. And then, for many reasons and also for no reason, I knew I wouldn’t. Both have felt like a choice at times, and both also didn’t feel like a choice other times – it was just what it was.
I’m happy that my brother and his wife decided to go three times; I love being an honorary (and temporary!) Bolivian, that suits me well. I’m also happy that my gentleman friend doesn’t feel the pull to go. I almost freaked the poor guy out when I asked him on our first date if he wanted to go! I simply wanted to let him know right away that if he strongly felt like moving there eventually, I wasn’t his right person.
The last time I’ve had a bucketload of “you’re sure you don’t want to go? no, really, I mean, are you really sure for sure? you’ll change your mind, won’t you?”, it came from the Bolivian immigration agent who was in the same breath telling me I couldn’t go. Oh, he could fix whatever had to be fixed for me to be able to move there, no problem! Ugh. No thanks. Fortunately, in the four years since I’ve met that immigration agent and had to meet with him on a regular basis, our relationship has evolved and we’ve finally reach the point where he’s stopped asking. Now he simply thinks I’m weird, and he says so with a hint of tenderness in his voice. That’s fine with me! 🙂
@Havi – this has always struck me as a very welcoming space in general, I just wanted to double check that I wasn’t intruding on something/co-opting someone’s experience. Since, to really stretch the metaphor, it’s easier for men to catch a short-hop flight to Bolivia than a 9-month steamer journey. And women are more likely to have brochures to Bolivia dumped on their desk, or be asked about their thoughts on Bolivia when all they really want is a cup of tea.
(Reading back, I realise my initial comment could be taken as having walked out on my responsibility. Um, I can’t think of a clever way to stay in metaphor, so – younger sibling. Enough said?)
I had no idea Bolivia was a ‘thing’… and I consider myself in the know! Many people here in LA talk about moving to Portland… In my circle of friends we talk about moving to Buenos Aires. Now there is a place that has some pull for me! When I can work full time from my computer, I’ll be logging in from there for a month or so. But moving there… probably not 😉
.-= cori´s last post … Communication breakdown! =-.
I was so terribly lonely when all my friends left to go Bolivia. and the fact that they ALL went only made it harder.
i was single and had nothing but Me to buffer the aloneness. they went from I to We we We.
the Bolivians I knew were all convinced that my life alone was easy and liberated. they envied it i thought.
but it didnt take much to figure out that i wasn’t carefree and happy. i was lonely and was having the most gruesome dating experiences you could ever imagine!
they, my dear bolivian friends, pretended they had forgetten that i was a hypersensitive soul through and through who hated travel.
they demanded or expected that i would happily take three hours journeys just to see them, whenever i could.
i even happily helped out with the duties that come with being a bolivian. after all we’re all in this together – right? and also because i am ace at being bolivian part time – i excel at it. new bolivians look saucer eyed gleeful when i am around them because i am pretty damn good as a part time resident.
but i stopped giving time to these bolivian friends so dear when i realised that there was no longer any room left for me.
they never wanted to visit my country. they barely even asked about it and i just GOT-IN-THE-WAY.
so yes i learnt the indescribable Power of Three and was silent in my grief.
i traveled back to my homeland, my island and i gave them up. this involved a great deal of crying, despair and i howled more than you can probably ever imagine.
because suddenly i was so totally alone and it was a taboo that we rarely speak about.
(pls know that i do not hate bolivians and i am only talking here about those specific bolivians i encounted that i had been closest to and experiences these ishoos.)
.-= Leila Lloyd-Evelyn´s last post … Feel bad – express yoself =-.
Thank you so much for writing this. A masterful piece.
So many “me too’s” here. This I’ll add:
At 12, I watched her struggle with her Bolivian-ness. She was here in Bolivia first because of me, then because of my 2 fellow Bolivians. Three of us. 3 unplanned trips. in 30 months. She was 19 on her first trip. Good catholic girl. It wasn’t a choice or decision for me, there in that moment. It was a flash card being held up: is this you? no. Pulling out a previously unknown fact about myself.
From ages 12 until 32, every year at my physical exam, I asked for surgery to prevent any trips to Bolivia. Some years, I shopped for someone who would agree to the surgery. From 12 to 32 I was told no, you don’t know what you want, you’ll change your mind. At 32, after years of giving money to pharmaceutical companies for anti-Bolivian drugs, I ended up with a blood clot. A vacation in critical care and $40,000 later, they agreed to the surgery. oh, one more thing…only if my traveling companion signed a permission slip to allow the surgery on me.
For fun, let’s flip that: any man, married or not, can go to a doctor’s office, say he wants anti-Bolivian surgery, and can get it done, practically on the spot, without needing anyone’s permission. (U.S.)
Bolivia is a land of many landscapes, eh?
I remember being seven years old and asking my mother why people move to Bolivia. I just didn’t get it but heard about it all the time. So, as much as my adult self can wax radical about feminist politics, economic coercion, the battle of the sexes, and all sorts of intellectual theories developed for pre-emptive defense, ultimately, I’m with you. Certainly I can imagine in the abstract sense that the option might arise and I might take it. But in the specific sense, no.
I moved to Bolivia about 8 years ago and continue to explore it deeper and deeper. In fact, we moved to Zone 2 last October. Surprisingly, I am heading to Zone 3 this Spring even though we didn’t plan to. We heard it is expensive, kinda insane and we like to plan our trips. My husband was actually in the process of dismantling the plane – so that we couldn’t move further into Bolivia.
I love Bolivia. Bolivia has helped guide many of my life choices and helped me find direction. I’m a happy Bolivian, although I hate to see the sad ones.
Secretly, sometimes if I go out at night and someone assumes I am not a Bolivian — I find that flattering.
.-= kerri twigg´s last post … The trouble with new jobs =-.
“But to say that I chose this life of Not Living in Bolivia? Impossible. ”
I’m likely telling you something you already know, but instead of defining yourself as where you don’t live, how about defining yourself as where you DO? 🙂
I live in Bolivia, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I love it here. In fact, living in Bolivia defines a large part of who I am. But it’s not ALL I am. Right now, it’s taking up a lot of my identity, but one day, I’ll just be living in Bolivia, not Living in Bolivia. 🙂
.-= Herbwifemama´s last post … Muffin Tin Monday- 1-2-3?s =-.
I am in Bolivia… and I love it, but I also know that its not what everyone wants either… its just another place like Canada or Australia or China or Outter Mongolia. If EVERYONE lived in Bolivia the world would be damned boring.
Even though I am in Bolivia, I don’t think its the be all and end all. There are challenges, for some women the benefits are great, for others its just not that great.
I thought I was done in Bolivia, but the draw is still there… I have friends who were not considering making the trip, but found themselves happily there, and friends who activily resisted any discussion of Bolivia…
Living in Bolivia can be mind altering or mind numbing… but its not the only place someone can be spectacularly, sparklingly, happy. The only way ANYONE can be happy is to love where they are, who they are, what they are doing, and love the journey.
(but the worst thing is the Bolivians who feel that they NEED to justify their decision by dragging everyone there… blah!)
.-= Pam´s last post … Lost =-.
yes. yes. yes. yes. YES. YES. YES. YES!!!
being 29, and weeks away from marriage, and in a small oklahoma town until I can get back to my beloved Portland, THIS has been such a topic. an eye-rolling, frustrating, just tell them what they want to hear topic….
Thank you Havi for yet again articulating a point of view that makes SO much sense to me.
What @Risby said is well put and I might have to start using that.
“maybe, and I’ll deal with that if it occurs, but my experience of myself to this point in time is that I have no desire to do so”
Look at all these amazing responses…. what a kick ass group of people! awesome.
At my age (41), the question is rapidly changing from “are you going to go to Bolivia some day?” to “why didn’t you go to Bolivia?” It always catches me off-guard. If it were close friends asking me, friends who might want to have an engaged conversation about it, that would be one thing. But usually I am asked by people who don’t know me very well at all. They seem to want a simple, short answer, and yet they don’t really believe a simple, short answer, even when it’s the truth. I would like to ask back, “why did you go to Bolivia?” I hope that won’t be too rude, because I genuinely am curious. (And if it *is* a little rude? Oh well. They started it.)