How I Became an Angry, Culturally Insensitive American

OK, so when most people picture Bolivia they generally envision chubby cholitas with a cheek full of coca leaves tilling alpine fields while their herds of alpacas and an army of children tumble around the mountainside. While this Bolivia exists, people are disappointed to encounter La Paz as a big, bustling, and in many ways cosmopolitan city. I knew more or less what to expect and told myself that as a SOAN major I should anticipate the multiculturalism implicit in all modern cities and embrace the multifaceted spirit of today´s Bolivia.

That said, I have been shockingly intolerant toward the music that plays in the store next to mine. Cultural relativism breaks down in a pretty violent way when the alpaca goods store plays such classics at "The Godfather Theme," "Singing in the Rain," and "Born Free" on a loop for 9 hours every day. Also, these shmaltzy tunes are not in their original form, for our friendly local alpaca hawker has settled on acoustic reimaginings of these gems, heavy on the strings. I can handle Andean pan flutes and punishing recordings of reggaeton, but I have been pushed to the brink of extreme cultural xenophobia by this woman.

I will burn down everything.

Exotic luxury awaits you...

That's what the hotel confirmation email I got today said. So for those who don't know, I'm leaving for Las Vegas Wednesday (for work). I'm staying at the Mandalay Bay Hotel, which I had never heard of so I did some research today. Apparentely, this hotel has the number one pool area in all of Vegas, consisting of 11 acres of fake beach with a wave pool, lazy river, and of course, a number of pool side bars.



Other things I look forward to at Mandalay Bay...

1) there's a casino overlooking this beach area in which people are encouraged to gamble in bikinis and bare feet
2) you can rent cabanas that come all equipped with a stripper pole inside
3) there are staff on hand to marry you on the spot if you request
4) one of the pools is devoted solely to topless sunbathing (they say it is for their european tourists)
5) At night the "beach" becomes a dance club which is said to include "adult only entertainment"

Needless to say, I am sure to enjoy myself and come back knowing my coworkers that much better (I asked one of my coworkers who's going with me today if she had any advice on what to bring and she said that she was bringing Emergen-C so she can drink til 4am each night and not be hung over). More stories to come...

ZE BONES

chris, my housemate with whom I share a special kinship in all things weird and moderately terrifying, has stated that I have now done something so creepy that it gives him a free license to do anything he wants from now, as it will never measure up to the deed I just committed.

however, friends, I don't believe that it earns this designation of creepy.

the scene: I'm sitting in the bean bag, warming by the fire, painting a pile of bones with marker. after about 15 minutes, someone walks over and says, "hey, what are you painting... ARE THOSE BONES?" the room alights with fire as people start yelling over and over again: "I THOUGHT THOSE WERE Q-TIPS! THOSE ARE BONES?" "RYEON, WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE BONES?" "WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?"

Freaked out by the accusations barreling across the room, I have only enough wit to holler back, "BUT VAIR ARE ZE BONES?" I must channel nate whenever I am frozen in uncertainty. Five minutes pass in which people are growing increasingly alarmed at the presence of bones and the fact that I can only speak in a broken record german accent.

when things die down, I reveal that I picked them up on the beach, intending to build something out of them. They demand that I boil them, which I begrudgingly do. The steam smelled like pungent earthy dirt, in case you were wondering.

that's when it was decided that this won as the creepiest thing anyone has ever done--thus, setting the bar by which other deeds can be measured.

I don't think it was that weird. Now there's a bird bone mobile hanging from a nail in the living room.

Joyous.

Also, send me some fun creative writing exercises that might elicit (or shall we say "provoke"?) some memorable responses...

Not a school project. But sort of.

This is what I'm working on in Provincetown!