Yes, for the past several years, when I am asked how am I, my response is "One foot in the North and the other in the South" not meaning sarcastically, but factually.
For several years before my husband's passing away, five years ago, we used to go very often to Bolivia, La Paz specifically. Twelve years ago we started to buy small lots of land in the country side of Achocalla, Bolivia "in the middle of nowhere", at least that's the way we described it, since we did not know anything about the place or its inhabitants.
The truth is that Achocalla was there already since the inception of the Murillo Province (La Paz) long before we were born and got to really know the place and especially the people, our neighbors. With the latest plans of infrastructure that goes on, usually before elections of the local and State authorities, we now have a paved road that takes us, from our home to the International El Alto Airport in just under 20 minutes ride; another fifteen minutes in the other direction, we are in the residential Zona Sur of La Paz, and yet another direct road, put us in the middle of "old down town La Paz, the Capital city of Bolivia". Allow me a parenthesis here, there seems to be a great number of people in the USA that remember, from their geography studies, that Bolivia has two Capitals. When my answer is, yes, you are right, there is a smile of pleasure and pride in the face of my inquirer; now, that is always endearing to my heart. They know something about my country! when I probably do not know anything of theirs, I acknowledge silently.
For the avid knowledge-seeker, I found this "...La Paz became the seat of the executive and legislative branches of the Bolivian government and the judicial branch remained in Sucre. Today Sucre remains as the one and only capital of Bolivia, per the Bolivian constitution. However, La Paz is sometimes erroneously called the administrative (or de facto) capital..." For more, visit http://www.boliviabella.com/capital.html.
Going back-and-forth to my other residence in Carcanavi, Achocalla, Bolivia is the reason from my actual standing and saying, "one foot on the North, the other on the South". For short, I now say that I live in both places intermittently, living and working in both places, Maryland and Achocalla, both being my homesteads for the last five years.
That could explain to my thoughts about the lifestyles I have to manage where ever I am, not to mention the many times I wake up in the morning and wonder where in the world am I? (I travel quite frequently to other far-away wonder places, usually for my interest and love for art/sculpture, but that story will come later.)
Just a few days from my return to Maryland, I have to get immediately to the tasks at hand, preparing my home and gardens to with stand the winter that follows the Autumn season in the North.
See, in ten to twelve hours, I change my whole life while sleeping in the airplane. This time, from rural, not urbanized yet, environment, I arrive to Montgomery County, Md which I believe is still one of the richest counties in the USA; that is quite a jolt but believe me, I love it, maybe as much as my Carroll County late husband loved my country Bolivia together with his Maryland, oh! Maryland.
Back in the homestead of MC I get back to a beautiful autumn weather; I left La Paz, awaiting for some rain so the flowers and greens can get awaken from their dry-cold sleep of the Bolivian winter.
Even though fall is just coming in this area of my home in Maryland, I cannot resist but stop my vehicle to sigh, enjoy what I see, and get my iPad and take some pictures to share with my beloved all around the world. The colors of the trees that take away my breath are unbelievable, surprising me once more, even after forty+ years I live in this area. Those yellows in all their tones, hard to find them in my palette of oils or watercolors, it would take long to recreate them especially when one is not working with them on a daily basis, and that is me. While walking in the woods, I refuse to take another step without first sorting and picking up the red leaves that are in front of me, fallen, many of them, shyly hiding themselves behind other larger leaves, thinking they will pass inadvertently; with their fiery reds and rich oranges that compliment all the browns in nature? Not with this buddy, they don't stand a chance to stay hiding. I just love leaves, all sort of leaves, their shapes, how they curl when dry and at this time, how they crinkle under my steps. I remember back in Cochabamba, Bolivia, as a small girl, in passing the Plaza Principal to get to my school (it must have been autumn time), I skipped from leaf to leaf, some times with a small step I could crunch one, while others, I would have to take a big stride not-to-miss the leaf that seemed to be waiting for me to land on, just to hear its crunching sound, sacrificing to become a flat shape, just to please me... My young heart filled with happiness, joy, the bliss felt as if I owned the world, my own little world and that is a lot to feel at that young age. Maybe that's why I love the falling leaves and their sound that is born under my steps, this time of the year. As a young bride in the family farm, my husband buried me, first time ever, in those musty, dried-brown fall leaves, just as I saw our little Charles Jesse, "Charlie" smiling from a heap of leaves his parents built around him. That, and a bag filled with gold coins = priceless! More...soon...
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