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.
Follow
I’m 50 and was never drawn to move to Bolivia. I kept waiting to get caught by some unanticipated drive to move to Bolivia (because that’s what everyone told me would happen), but it never came. I’ve built a big, beautiful, exciting, life that I love, and am so glad I never succumbed to the pressure to move to Bolivia… I know now it would not have been right for me, not at all. I was not what you would call a strong person back in my 30’s, but I am grateful I found the strength, somewhere, somehow, to listen to myself.
My whole early life I planned on living in Bolivia. I KNEW I was going to live there. I counted on it. I planned the rest of my life around being there. I would do this and this and this until I moved and then I would just live there.
Until one day I woke up and realized that the idea of living in Bolivia scared the bejeepers out of me. I didn’t want to move.
But then, I didn’t know what or where I was supposed to live. I had no plan, no self-definition of not being in Bolivia.
People expressed disappointment, “But you’d be so good in Bolivia. You’re a natural Bolivian.” Which only further increased my sense of lonliness and confusion and lostedness.
It’s taken me a lot of years to realize that Bolivia is a beautiful country but I am happy not living there. My idea of who I am is much richer and fuller without being stuttered behind the broad category of Bolivian. The world to which I get to belong is more complete because I am more congruent in myself.
Thank you for the chance to think about this in this way. It’s nice to gather up the loose strings of all those thoughts and make them into a lovely, warm, non-Bolivian sweater to wear.
I don’t think it really matters whether you move to Bolivia yourself or just appreciate the ones who chose that for themselves. If your life is a diamond, choosing Bolivia is only one facet–you’ll shine just as bright no matter which direction it’s facing. Just shine the way you are and don’t worry about anybody else’s reflections on you.
I relate to that feeling of isolation you, Havi, and others so poignantly express, of being different from the mainstream, and being bombarded by everyone’s opinions and projections. I experience that in so many ways, even though I am a happy resident of Bolivia. In fact living in Bolivia seems to make me appear like all those other Bolivians so I feel quite oddly alone though I seem to fit in.
To know who you are and what you want at any moment and embrace that fully, despite all the noise out there, is a precious thing.
Love,
Sandy
I’m so confused. I had no idea everyone was either going or not-going to Bolivia. I’ve barely heard of the country before now. What’s going on?
Never mind, sorry Havi – just saw your reply in the comments, missed it before. So it’s all a metaphor? Oops!
I moved to Bolivia once and love living there. We tried to get there 2 more times, but that was not to be.
I am sad when people judge our “choice” to only go once and the judgment of my Bolivian who is an only Bolivian.
(Apparently being an “only” is not desirable in some circles)
I truly don’t understand the fascination with Bolivia and all the questions, expectations and sensitivity. Bolivia is NOT for everyone and that is awesome for those who know where they really want to be. It’s also a place that one can go once, twice, three, four times and that’s awesome, too.
.-= Susan´s last post … Epic Health Care Reform Changes- but Who Has the Time =-.
What if the question wasn’t to Bolivia or not to Bolivia…but just how much Bolivia do you need?
I mean, we were all born there. In that way we are all Bolivians, of Bolivia.
Some of us never moved out. Some of us come back for holidays. Some of us write postcards from Rome. It’s all good. My closest friends are 50/50 split and I like it that way. How could we live vicariously through each other if we all lived the same life?
I’m pretty clear on the amount of Bolivia I need. I tumbled into Bolivia at 24 with a bottle of Chianti, and at 39 I still like a good visit to Rome.
.-= Elissa´s last post … Life is a Chocolate Chip Cookie =-.
This post-and-comments is fascinating, cheering, disturbing. And a bit sad,too.
For many years I have been asking “Why?” of those moving to Bolivia. Not to be judgmental, but because I really want to know. A serious, deeply interested inquiry. Because I have never felt the pull.
As much as I ADORE Bolivians, the desire to move there just has never been mine. And the outsider status automatically bestowed upon those who don’t move there, who don’t even want to move there, is huge and difficult to bear. (No pun intended.)
All I have ever heard in response is, “I have always wanted to.” Even from friends who have never, ever, ever, not-once-in-15-years-of-knowing-each-other-as-bosom-buddies mentioned it before they came waltzing into the room waving plane tickets at me. They assumed I just knew they wanted to move there because, well, doesn’t everyone?
In a culture that pressures and expects everyone to move to Bolivia (or at least try to), wouldn’t it make sense to examine one’s impulses? Just to be certain one is truly, fundamentally, totally and essentially in one’s truth and not the truth taught by the culture at large? Or maybe even just to roll around in all the whys for the pure pleasure of it? To expand the excitement and the joy? To know oneself better? To be able to tell the Bolivians over and over why you are with them–especially on those hard days?
I have, actually, “always” wanted to go to Ireland. And I can tell you why. Those record ads in the 70s, the ones that played the fun music while showering you with images of verdant, peaceful, rolling hillsides—they made me long for Ireland. Because it looked beautiful and exotic. Because it seemed to be exactly opposite where I lived. Because I wanted adventure and travel. Because those images spoke Transcendent Joy to me.
But everyone assumed I would want to stay where I was for a while and then move to Bolivia. As if that is the right thing to “always have wanted” and there is no other. I had to back up my desire to visit Ireland; I had to defend it.
I can’t defend my never having moved to Bolivia.
I have lived through nearly 30 years of getting that look, of being asked if my biological clock is broken, of being told how much so-and-so would LOVE to see me in Bolivia–and they all want to know why I am not there and why I have let them down. Or they just think there is something wrong with me.
I guess this is like anything else — skin color, religion, sexual-orientation, etc — when anything or anyone is Culturally Normative, they are thought to be automatically understood, no questions to be asked, no thoughts to be had. But a Non Normative is supposed to always be ready to defend itself.
That’s the sad part.
But thanks so much to all of you for the conversation. It is a relief to see one like this out in the open. Or at all.
Brilliant discussion.
I just want to let those of you who have not moved to Bolivia and are feeling lonely about your friends’ relocation there to be patient. I’ve been through that many times, and you will find that as the years pass your friends will make longer and longer trips out of Bolivia to visit you, and in fact will delight in your company as a refreshing break from all those dang Bolivians!
I didn’t choose, I just knew. I’ve always known, even before having thought about it.
I’ve never hidden the fact that I don’t want to move to Bolivia, and at times that can be somewhat isolating. However, around people I don’t know well, I do tend to hide the fact that actually I’m not even really that fond of Bolivia (gasp!).
The interesting thing is once I reveal this, some Bolivians then view me as a confessional — a safe place to confide that of course they love Bolivia with all their heart, but if they could do it all over again they most definitely would not have moved there. They feel isolated too, just in a very different way than I do.
They thought moving to Bolivia was what they wanted, was what they were supposed to do, was what would make them complete. But wherever you go, there you are.
Y’know. I read this to be about marriage. It’s interesting that almost everyone else read it differently!
Here on the East Coast and I have read every one of these heartfelt posts…what a beautiful outpouring of sincerity and soul. What a wellspring you have tapped, Havi.
You asked for our stories. What do I know about isolation and about completeness?
My first journey to Bolivia started with joy and excitement but the ride was bumpy and the seas were rough. We went overboard before we could reach the Bolivian shore. There was much grieving and the utter isolation of loss.
Years of effort later, after too many visits to the immigration office and waiting for the results of official document scans, there were two more journeys to Bolivia. These were high risk crossings, and each time I took to my bed and didn’t come up to the decks until we reached Bolivia itself. There was much cheering when we pulled into the harbour.
This was a time of both literal isolation in my bed and the total completeness of dedication and intention.
Years of effort later, and the completeness of Bolivian family life turned into the isolation of single parent Bolivian life.
Years of effort later, and the two small Bolivians (now big and strong and playing American football) have set off on their own journeys. The joyful completeness of our trio turning into the isolation of a large Bolivian home that makes me feel small.
What do I know about isolation and about completeness?
They are the Yin/Yang of the human condition. Whether we are in Bolivia or not in Peru. Whether we are in Canada or not in Spain. And my story joins every one of yours. And I feel an amazing kinship. L’Chaim…to life!
Ugh I am in Bolivia and I struggle so much – the most major lesson in surrender. I don’t think I ever really wanted to move, but my man did and so we went. And now we are in Bolivia – it’s so major here.
But I think, like anywhere else, if you have family in Bolivia to help, then Bolivia is phenomenal. So many of us are doing it in tiny tribes and it is rough.
Thank you so much Havi for creating this beautiful place for us to be radically honest.
xoxoxo
Dara
PS – I am enjoying your emails so much, I just featured you in my newsletter.
.-= dara´s last post … Woo Woo 101- You Have Seven Chakras =-.
Sweet, dear post, Havi.
When my Mother was alive she would say to me, “You cannot imagine the beauty of having your own children. Once you have them, it is heaven.” Or something like that.
Although I have no children (and no particular desire for them, yet) I do believe that such a beautiful part of life cannot be comprehended INTELLECTUALLY.. We cannot guess how it will feel. We cannot jump into the future and understand what it will be like…at all.
Back in my days when I was totally oPPosed to having children, I was afraid. Underneath. It took me a long time to understand that.
Now I believe that being open to the flow of life, and whatever it brings us, is key to joy.
If the universe brings me children, I will be open and joyfully accepting of it.
If not, whatevs. No biggie.
Either way, life rocks, yes? 🙂
xoxo,
Amy
.-= Amy Martin´s last post … How To Be A Rabid- Peace-Loving Negotiator- Asia-Style =-.
Havi:
I love you and this amazing community you’ve created. To me, this says it all
“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” – reminds me of meeting yourself where you are which is the basis of your work.
Also seems like a perfect quote for your book to be. . . just sayin’ it’s such a poetic statement of Havi-ness.
I’ve relished this lively discussion with your right people and all the different viewpoints that have come up.
Here’s my story.
I went to law school, met my husband to be on my 9th day and it was love at first sight. Literally – I knew I’d marry him 3 seconds after I met him AND I didn’t want to marry him until I could legally handle my own divorce just in case I needed to do it. I didn’t trust the intensity of my feelings . . . plus my mom was dying and my life in general was a stressful nightmare.
Gloria Steinem was my idol at the time – I was the quintessential woman’s libber.
Little did I know that I’d be taken to Bolivia 5 years later, almost without a second thought. I told my sis we were thinking of going and she looked me right in the eye and said, “Char, you’re already there. I can tell by looking at you.” And she was right.
I went from wondering why moms couldn’t wipe their bolivian’s nose to being one of them. I went from wondering what all the fuss was about to being a major fusser about everything. Being in Bolivia was the most knock down drag out falling in love feeling I’d ever encountered – and through all the heartache, disappointments, and delights, raising my two bolivians alone is my greatest achievement.
If nothing else gets done in my life, I know I’ve raised two beautiful self sustaining Bolivians who love life, cherish me and each other, and live life on their own terms.
The hardest part of being in Bolivia now is coming back home to myself – because though I raised Bolivians, my Bolivians don’t need me as they once did which is as it should be.
So, I come back to something I’ve learned over and over again from you. Meeting myself where I am – living my life where I am, as the mother of two Bolivians, and en route somewhere and kinda blindfolded.
Thank you so much for helping me think through this relationship with Bolivia – I really never thought of my life or my Bolivians as such. You spin my head around in directions unnknown – over and over and over again.
I really adore you.
.-= Char Brooks´s last post … The Rant Edition- No One Gets to Steal Your Health! =-.
I am so, so intensely flattered that you included me in the list of neat people in Bolivia. You made my day, Havi. Thank you for that. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🙂
I will say that for me the pull to Bolivia was very real. But it happened only after I was married. It was very old-school and retro, I got the paperwork in the mail and I went from thinking Bolivia wasn’t for me, to thinking, “OMG, I must go there YESTERDAY!” It was very odd, and it wasn’t a choice. I wanted to be in Bolivia like I would want a sandwich, no choosing involved, only a physical craving for yumminess. So even on the flip side, the idea of choice isn’t really present for me.
.-= Amber´s last post … What I Learned in August 2010 =-.
I fought long and hard to get to Bolivia. A damn expensive plane ticket! The trip took freakin’ forever, there were many detours and the landing was rather bumpy. But we made it. I shake my head in amazement quite often that we finally, finally arrived. It has by no means been an easy transition but I love it (most days).
That said, I’ve always been puzzled by the expectation that everyone is expected to travel here.
I was asked so many times “when are you going to Bolivia???” and told so many times “if you just relax/just stop trying so hard/just give up, before you know it you’ll be in Bolivia!”. Or better yet, if you just take this essential oil/herb/alkaline water/therapy/etc., etc., etc. you’ll be magically transported to Bolivia. If I had a dollar for every one of those I could’ve paid for my plane ticket 🙂
.-= Lisa´s last post … Welcome to the World =-.
I had fantasies about Bolivia for years, starting when I was a little girl. I always thought I’d go. Then someone gave me a ticket to Bolivia, with the condition that I go without him. I was afraid to go to Bolivia alone. Nobody wanted to go with me. My dream had become a nightmare.
I thought about throwing the ticket away, but I thought that that would be a really cruel and wasteful thing to do, when so many people want to go but can’t. A ticket to Bolivia is not something to be discarded just because you’re not ready to go, in my opinion.
So I gave my ticket to a nice couple who really wanted to go but couldn’t. It was like giving away a dream. I thought I’d have another chance later, but when the opportunity presented itself, I decided there were other places I’d rather go. And then the desire to go to Bolivia just gradually faded away.
I’ve spent an amazing 20 years in Bolivia. Each visit was unique, and I would have traveled there again, but my darling is not the world-traveler that I am.
What amazed me (still does) is that in spite of all the women who go to Bolivia, it’s still been incredibly lonely for me. Perhaps that’s because the more young Bolivians you have traveling with you, the harder it is to connect with others. After all, when your own Bolivians fill the mini-van, who can you carpool with? And I’ve never been a flag-waving Bolivian. I’m content to watch the parade pass by.
Now, however, I’m watching my time in Bolivia nearing its end. I’ve traveled back home once or twice, to start to prepare for repatriated life, only to discover that there is a stigma attached to having lived there for so long. A scarlet letter “B” if you will. Like my brains went to Bolivia and never were seen again. That makes me sad.
In the meantime, I will continue to work on my own path – one which I hope will allow me to meander in and out of Bolivia at my choosing. Thank you for your thoughts on this, Havi
Havi, this is stunningly wonderful (like so many things you write)!
I am 64 years old and decided at 26 (in 1972) to never ever go to Bolivia. I was so definite I had surgery (paid for myself, no insurance) to make sure that I would never accidentally or intentionally go there. I have never had any regrets. And funny thing, even though I didn’t really tell people about it, no one has really bugged me about it. They must have somehow sensed there was no point.
I came to the choicelessness part of it the reverse of what you have experienced. At first it was a definite decision. I realized with the help of the women’s movement in the 70’s that if I went to Bolivia, I was most likely going to be on my own regardless of who I went with. Oh, I knew that some people have a lot of resources and can hire all kinds of assistance (i.e. other women) to help out with being in Bolivia, but no guy I went with was really going to pull equal weight on that journey. I wasn’t having any of it. It was only later in life that I figured out that this is really who I am and not a “choice” or a political statement.
The thing I don’t get is the stuff about how women who don’t want to go to Bolivia are “being selfish.” What’s that about? I think it’s quite the opposite. How selfish when the environment is really already hurting in Bolivia for everyone to crowd in there! The planet will get lopsided and go off its orbit if everyone keeps moving to Bolivia… and half of them don’t really want to learn the language or the customs of the place.
Well, that’s my 2 cents. Thank you enormously for opening up this subject. And, yes, like Char I adore you too. 🙂
I was on my way to Bolivia, more than halfway there in fact, when we encountered terrible turbulence and the plane crashed. Everyone on board, except me, perished.
My passport is still stamped with a valid Bolivian visa, and I still look at it sometimes, but I doubt I will ever board a plane again.
.-= Rupa´s last post … Happy Birthday- Krishna =-.
When I read this post: YES! That’s it exactly!
When I read the comments: Wow! There’s just so much more that is so yes, exactly.
Once I really wanted to go to Bolivia. I packed and prepared myself. I had a travel partner.
But then my travel partner bailed and I just knew that I didn’t want to go to Bolivia by myself.
But here’s the thing. Since then I have a nagging fear that I can’t go to Bolivia at all. I’m not sure that my passport will be accepted and I can’t cross the border. What if I can’t ever go? I mean, I’ve never even accidentally found myself anywhere near South America.
I still don’t want to go to Bolivia by myself, but I find that everything I’ve done since then has drawn me further and further away from where I think Bolivia is. Each step has in its way been a choice, but not towards Bolivia, but not specifically away from Bolivia.
Anyway, the Earth is round, so who knows how close or far I am from Bolivia? I’m just looking as far as I can which is the horizon.
Ironically my husband has always wanted to visit Bolivia (no language barrier, it’s hot) and I haven’t; as regards your version though he has been determined not to buy a ticket whilst I have wistfully longed. We’re going to be going to Bolivia, next year I hope. I’m really looking forward to it, have promised him an adventure.
I do find it hard to understand why people vehemently don’t wish to go there. But I can accept it – the want I have for other people to go is so I can visit and enjoy the fun bits. Yep. I’m selfish.
Thank you, Havi, for putting this into words for me.
It was never a “choice” for me either. I’ve never been pulled. I’ve never been interested. I just think, “Oh how nice that people want to go to Bolivia, I hope they have a good time! Now which flight do I get on to get to Italy/France/Greece?”
I’ve been told too many times to count that it’s biological, that one day I’ll wake up and suddenly discover that I want to go to Bolivia. Sure, it might. I’ve accepted that it might happen.
But somehow, I really doubt it. I know myself well enough at this point that there is absolutely nothing inside of me that has even the slightest urge to go to Bolivia. It’s like I just didn’t get that part of my brain.
I’m lucky in that my parents are totally okay with my not moving there. And I now have medical reasons to give people who bug me about it.
But the fact of the matter is, even without health issues that prevent me from traveling there – I still wouldn’t go. But with any luck, in about 20 years people will leave me alone about it.
I could always pull the “eccentric artist” card too. That might work. 😉
.-= Sarah Marie Lacy´s last post … A confession and a plan =-.
and apparently, even if you do plan on going to Bolivia (or Italy) sometimes you end up in Holland:
http://damomma.com/2010/09/01/child-not-typical-results-may-vary
I’m another Lurkette brought out of hiding by the marvellousness of your article… thank you!
You expressed so beautifully something I have been trying to explain to many of my favourite people for years. Bolivia is just not on my list. There’s lots of other places I’d like to go. I love it that other people go to Bolivia, get happy and tell me about it. I love that. But I’m happy woofling about doing my own non-Boliviary things. And it would be great, as you say, if people just asked about all the other places I go to and the things I do there, rather than wittering on all the time about how, if I’d only give it a go, I’d find the weather in Bolivia really quite delightful – if a little changeable!
This is one blog post I’m definitely saving 😉
I just had to duck in and say that I posted this blog post on Facebook (as you know), and a few of my friends said they ended up hanging out at Fluent Self for a while…it makes me so happy to think that so many other people “get” all this great stuff you share, Havi!
.-= Dawn´s last post … Taking the Learning Out of the Classroom =-.
I, on the other hand, am moving to Paraguay (with my best friend). It is a choice – forced by policies and taxes, but a choice. I am not unhappy about moving to Paraguay but I would not have chosen to move for a number of reasons – mostly related to how people around me seem to think about Paraguay (and that it the first stop to Bolivia!)
I try not to explain my choice about Paraguay. But there it is – another person assuming something about me that isn’t true. Do I correct them? Do I let it go? Neither feels quite right.
p.s. I spent a lifetime with health issues related to Bolivia – it has hampered my life and my work. The Medical Hierarchy decided for me that the most important thing I could do was preserve my right to go to Bolivia. I objected but was never believed or taken seriously or whatever. 33 years of hell later (a.k.a. 17 surguries), they’ve decided to revoke my visa because at this age it would be dangerous for me to go to Bolivia. I mourn my wasted years – but not never visiting Bolivia.
I went to Bolivia unexpectedly at a young age. I decided to stay there, even though I was soon without a traveling partner and on my own with my little Bolivian. In a strange country, young, very isolated. Everyone I knew was still partying hard in the homeland and I was off in another country. Very alone. After some time I did find a new traveling companion, who at first was very unsure about his new status, but with a little time and gentleness he and the little Bolivian came to appreciate each other. I always thought that when I got older, I would find friends who would understand and I would be less isolated. But now here I am with a Bolivian in High School and all the people I know who are my age have teeny tiny Bolivians. And our experiences are still so different that I feel lonely. The others who have Bolivians of the same age are not that accepting of someone my age. Where are all the others who went to Bolivia young? I KNOW I was not the only one, and even so, I want to be friends even if I happen to be younger. I also thought the stigma of being a young traveler to Bolivia would ease with age, but it has always stayed the same. But hey, I am HERE, able to fully understand and we could talk about our life with teenagers and maybe we could all feel less lonely. Oh and now the pressure to have another Bolivian. I haven’t even thought about that in so long, I just have really conflicting feelings about it. It’s not like I don’t adore my Bolivian. I just think it might be time to explore the world outside Bolivia a little. And is that so bad?
It’s no longer an option for me to go to Boliva and that’s a real relief, I must tell you. All my life I had just assumed that I would end up there–after all, that’s what women (especially married ones) do. My husband was not a fan of the country but had agreed to come along if that’s what I wanted. I had no doubt that he would adjust beautifully to the customs and culture there so his ambivalence wasn’t really in the way of making the decision of whether or not to go. I just got to a point where I was getting older and I knew I couldn’t keep postponing it. I finally came to the realization that I could either just get the tickets already and plan the trip or make the decision that I wasn’t going to ever go. I didn’t think taking the trip when I wasn’t really ready so that I wouldn’t regret it later in life was a good enough reason to embark on such a serious and life-changing journey. I decided that if I had really wanted to go, I would have gone or be preparing to go, instead of talking myself into going because I had always assumed that I would end up there.
Not to mention the alarming appointment with my (then) gynecologist the year that I was 40. She said to me in these exact words: “I want you to know that the ship is leaving the port and if you don’t do something soon, it will go without you.” AND she asked me to SIGN A DOCUMENT stating that she told me so and that I understood.
For me deciding that Bolivia was no longer an option for me was very, very, freeing. And I know that I made the absolutely right decision. It really disturbs me to think that anyone–friends, family, strangers–thinks they have a right to give an opinion on whether a woman should go to Bolivia or not–it’s a personal, private issue.
Havi– I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE your use of the metaphor of Bolivia. Genius. And everyone who commented wrote some really creative stuff based on it. All of you here on the BLOG are smart, funny, and cool!
I’m 33 and I have a Bolivian residency.
At first it stroked to me how people seemed to live happily under this conditions. Power shortages all the time, nobody picking up your trash, the postal service sucks so you’re pretty much isolated (weird how everybody feels that way at some point or another).
Or so it seemed.
Anyhow,since I’m here already, I decided to give it a real shot. Maybe there’s a way to self realization hiding in this chaos.
Well there is. For me at least.
In Bolivia I’ve found exactly what my soul needed to grow:
* Patience and Acceptance (Bolivians don’t care what Your preferences are, they’ll just dance to whatever tune They feel like).
* Resilience
* A strength beyond words. Really, I am amazed at the incredibly hard stuff I’ve had to deal with in this country and that I’ve been able to handle gracefully.
* I’ve made peace with my own body. It has adapted to the weather like it was design to live here.
* Now that I’m surrounded by the exuberant nature I feel closer to the Source of all beings.
* And most importantly: I found my heart, as big as the world, and part of that Source.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts Havi. Always a delight.
I had a complicated relationship with Bolivia for a while. For a long time, I didn’t even care that it existed. Then I hit the point where everyone said it was time to go, particularly because I was with my Right Person, who is indeed an excellent traveling partner. I’d never really given Bolivia much thought, but I woke up one morning and assumed They were Right…and I was a little weaker at that point than I’d been in a while. I listened to Them instead of to me.
My Right Person, with whom I had shared many fine adventures, wasn’t ready to think about Bolivia (or the culturally defined travel process) then, for many really good reasons. So I said, well, the heck with you! I shall find someone else who wants to get visas together and work toward the trip with me!
As often happens, the Universe wasted no time giving me a chance to decide RIGHT AWAY about Bolivia. I met a Someone Else and wound up on the boat to Bolivia but quick, in spite of travel insurance. That Someone Else, it turned out, wasn’t ready for Bolivia yet (but wanted to go there with me someday), and I didn’t think I could go there alone, so I felt I had to cancel the trip (I did not have to, but perhaps still should have–it’s as complicated as Bolivia itself). I stayed with Someone Else much longer than was good for me and wound up not wanting to go to Bolivia with him. (It turns out we did not travel well together at all, no matter where we went. Bolivia would have been unbearable.)
Today, I am again with my Right Person (yay, Universe!) and we both think Bolivia would be very nice. We do have many friends there and we receive lovely postcards. But we’ll get there when (if) we get there, in our own time. And if we never get to Bolivia, we’ll go somewhere else. Traveling together is our big thing, rather than exactly where we end up.
My best friend lives in Bolivia, and my visits to her have been some of the happiest and most amazing moments of my life. There was even one extended stay while her husband was deployed, and those months taught me most of what I know about the care and feeding of llamas. 🙂
I’ve always wanted to move to Bolivia–I love the sights, the sounds, the fun. I even spent a summer interning at the Bolivian consulate here. But as I continue to mature and become more self-aware, the more I realize that as much as I WANT to move to Bolivia, moving to Bolivia may not be the best thing for me. For starters, I have health concerns that could drastically affect both my travel plans and my living arrangements once in-country. And my career, which I love, is not very Bolivia-friendly. These are complications that could be worked around, to be sure, but I’m wondering how fair it is–to me, my potential traveling companion, or my llamas–to make things that much of a struggle all the time.
At my relative advanced age (46) Ive moved into and out of Bolivia 3 times. Ha. Imagine the realization that a travel partners ability to also live in Bolivia would be a key part of this undertaking. Silly me.
Im no longer in Bolivia and whilst the years of being there/not there have been alternately soul-wrenching and euphoric, desperately lonely, hopeful, sexy, heart-melting happy to 911-crazy , head spinning from recalling all the experiences… With this last move out I finally realized (epiphany) Ive spent so much energy on making that life work, throwing my energy, creativity and support behind it, that I gave up my Self in the process. I thought thats what a good citizen did. So now I-me-AM the focus of all that energy. Woohoo! best time of my life ever. Bolivia in the future? I cant predict the future. I do know that would have to be hella awesome travel partner. The benefit of my choices: my 16 year daughter old has no pull to Bolivia and she has a mother who will never ever push her, or let anyone else push her, to move anywhere she didn’t want to be.
Oh, Havi. WONDERFUL. I feel illuminated. I had never thought about it NOT being a “choice” per se. Because I have always wanted to move there. And because so many women move there without really wanting to, I thought supporting the choice to never live there was so supportive! But now I see, not so much.
Anyway, I am 38 and in the midst of moving there alone. Which is hard, but I am lucky to have the ability to do it! And quite a few of my friends who will never move there are helping me pack, driving me to the airport, etc. Which is lovely.
Wise wise Havi!
Thank you, Havi, for the perfect place to send people who ask or assert or worry about my not knowing of Bolivia on my global “Map of Me.”
No stories of isolation here, only the fact of contented wholeness, like a ball of rock and fire and sea and salt that holds all I need to not only feel complete, but to Be Complete. Ah, sublime to be at home in one’s own place, eh?
Whatever length of time it took you to share that lovely expression of perfectly clear metaphor — and it is brilliant! BOLIVIA is a much needed book in our culture — was so very worth it. I promise to give it more of my own time to print, reread, and learn from your wonderful commenters.
Thank you again. (I’m so glad the interwebs allow us to share how the people like you-at-your-best can balance out people like me-at-my-worst.)
Big appreciations for this lovely and profound writing.
Seriously, Havi, I’ve been wanting to delurk for a long time now but the need to stay invisible was much stronger. Until now, because really, it’s like you’ve completely described my feelings about the whole issue.
I’ve known since I was a kid myself that I never wanted to have any when I grew up. And now, (mostly) entrenched in grown-up-ness, Bolivia still holds no sway over me. Never had the appeal, never will. I just don’t have whatever calls other women to go there.
It never was a choice, just a knowing. I only ever considered it once. I was in a bad relationship, and incredibly lonely even when my Ex was in the same room with me. And I wondered if the loneliness would go away if the room were in Bolivia. Of course, thank god I never found myself in Bolivia with that man who is now history…
I’ve wondered too if I were to ever get involved with a man who’d been to Bolivia before, could I deal with that? I think maybe I could… if that meant I were only a part-time stepmom. Maybe that’s sad, maybe that means I’m self-centered or selfish in other people’s eyes, but it’s honest. Because it’s not about finding Mr. Right, or changing my mind.
.-= christy´s last post … dear ada =-.
You pinned it down perfectly:
“To me, choice generally implies at least some of the following characteristics… It isn’t that I decided against Bolivia. That never came up. It didn’t need to.”
The same for me. There was never a question of moving to Bolivia, or the deliberate not-question either.
It is exasperating to explain when people want to talk about my not moving to Bolivia as if it’s some giant fork in the road of life, when my road doesn’t even *have* that fork to begin with.
.-= Amy´s last post … 6 Tricks for Doing Business on The Far Side =-.
Love this.
I was once told – by one of those women desperately trying to move to Bolivia – that when I said I was uninterested in Bolivia, I was lying, and I really did want to move there.
I just looked at her. Huh?
My mother used to plaintively say, “But you wanted to move to Bolivia when you were a little girl.” (She’s gotten over it – thank goodness!)
Like you and many of the commenters here, it was never a “choice” per se, or if it was, it’s one I wasn’t conscious of making; it was always a part of the package that’s Me.
Great post. Thank you for making it so clear. Maybe now some of the Bolivian proselytizers will realize why we get that blank look! 🙂
.-= Grace ´s last post … Show a little appreciation =-.
@Cori, I find Portland to be quite lovely compared to what a journey to Bolivia would be for me. 😉
Bolivia is such a tender topic, so I’m going to tread lightly as I write this, but here’s another angle I’ve taken on the Bolivia topic.
After some population studies in college, I think it’s important for all of us that not everyone move to Bolivia. I mean, where would would we all live? Would school conditions drop from over-crowding? Would we run out of food and clean water as has had happened in some parts of Bolivia already? Where would the younger Bolivians work?
Conditions could get rough so quickly if we *all* moved there.
This post also got me thinking that there are some parts of the world where women MOVE TO BOLIVIA over and over again without any say about whether they had travel plans to visit or not. No questions asked by their travel companion. And wow. That would be really hard for me. I’m so grateful that that is, largely, not the case in this country.
I like this metaphor so much Havi, I may never retire it. Thank you for convincing that finger to press the publish button.
I have lived in Bolivia for over half of my life and wouldn’t trade my home for anything. My daughter just moved there….I wish she had waited a bit before booking her trip. I know she will be a wonderful Bolivian but wanted her to travel a bit before making her forever home there.
Even though it’s an incredible place (for me) parts of my soul feel lost from not exploring the world before moving there. I pray she doesn’t feel the same way at 38.
AWESOME.
The choice to move to Bolivia, or not, is a personal one. So sad that the choice is always wrong to someone else – you moved there too many times, you only moved there once? you didn’t move there at all??? FREAKISH.
It should simply be a respected personal choice.
After some population studies in college, I determined – for myself – that it’s probably a good thing that we don’t all have the pull to move to Bolivia. I don’t think our little planet could handle it if *everyone* moved to Bolivia.
There are plenty of women in other countries who MOVE TO BOLIVIA over and over and over again without any say in the matter. I would not want that.
I’m so grateful that in this country I can pick my travel companion and live my life as I please.
Dig the metaphor. Big time.
OMG, the loveliness of Havi’s brain.
And further, the smartnesses and hilarity of this group commenting. I love it. An awesome group.
I can’t say “me too”.
See, I moved to Bolivia because I thought I was suppoed to and it was “time”. Then I wondered what the hell I was thinking, but too late, there I was living in Bolivia.
And, just when I my visa was over halfway to expiration, and I could enjoy Bolivia from afar, visiting infrequently and keeping in touch on Facebook, I decided to extend it.
What?
10 years later it just was the thing I had to do. As described, it didn’t feel like a choice.
I had a lot of anger the first time I moved, feeling like I had packed and off I went, based on other people’s itineraries. However, through the deep turmoil set in place by adjusting to the culture and the language and the general differences of life in Bolivia, I got very clear about alot of things that I thought I “knew” before moving.
Now that I’ll be staying for awhile longer, I’m learning to settle in and appreciate what is beautiful about Bolivians. Even though many days I think I’ve never had the personality or inclinations that would make me a true citizen, it seems to suit me now and is giving me and the Bolivians the experience we were supposed to have. I guess for me, this is where I’m supposed to pick up some of my awareness.
I have loved reading this conversation. I find it disturbing when people assume their way is the only, no matter what the issue.
Grateful for the beautiful sharing started here.
CJ
Powerful, emotional post, Havi. Thank you for writing it and finally putting my feelings into words.
Funny how we often have to re-name things to blunt the emotional edge.
Thank you for the realization that remained after the mist of tears cleared.
.-= RhondaL´s last post … ILuvLex List =-.