There comes a time in every expat's life when things in their new country become just plain normal. Things that to a newcomer would be exotic or scary or strange no longer have the same effect, which in a way dulls our hightened sense of observation and self-awareness which we normally have when thrust into a place where we are completely out of the ordinary and nothing seems ordinary to us either. It reminds me of the time we picked up Ann's family from the airport when they came to visit in Cochabamba and as soon as we stepped out of the building her sister and mine both exclamed out loud their enthusiasm and wonder at the big, old, wildly colorfully painted vehicle out front. "What is that?!" "Oh, that? Just a bus." That is about the time when the frequency of posts on most gringos' travel blogs tipically starts to fall off pretty quick unless the person is really dedicated. 

Yesterday I realized that I had made it to that point when I suddenly took notice of the fact that I was sitting in a café on the outdoor patio at 4pm in the 90-degree, humid, tropical heat sipping a mug of hot coffee. Who does that? Well, people who live here in Santa Cruz do, and this was the first time I did it without first thinking how wierd that is. I guess you could say that we have settled in then. 

Although maybe that realization had already come to me while we spent 2 weeks back in Chattanooga over Christmas to go to two weddings. One of my sisters and Ann's sister both got married just a day apart. It was a whirlwind to spend Christmas and New Year's at home plus see both Ann's and my entire extended families in one week. But what struck me more was how much I longed for the simplicity of life in Santa Cruz. Things suddenly seemed so much more straightforward in some way. Life seems a lot simpler in some ways when you have two rooms to live in, 4 pairs of pants, one pair of shoes, and buy the same vegetables from the same lady every week. 

But yesterday also reminded me that not everything is routine or "normal" everyday. We live in a less well-of neighborhood on a side of town most wealthy Bolivians are afraid to drive their SUVs through. I guess we had grown accustomed to life there too because we never blink at the gang graffiti covering the park and house walls, the bars, the drunks passed out in front of the house most mornings, or the brothels down the street. We have never even felt unsafe and the owners of the house always leave the front gate unlocked. Last night I was jolted out of that comfort. Ann had gone to bed and I was reading a bit out on the patio when I heard some loud fireworks a couple blocks away. These were the kind you hear at protests and stuff, that don't burn bright but just pop deafeningly loud. I didn't think much of it since those go off all the time, but then I thought I heard the noise of people shouting and dogs barking in the distance away were the fireworks went off. More went off, and I thought, well this is a weird place to protest something. No one is here to see it. So I kept reading. The commotion continued for some time until it sounded like it was beginning to come closer to the house. I ran to the front gate, where our neighbors were already standing just in time to see a huge crowd of kids, boys and girls, pour into the plaza. They then turned and started raining down huge rocks and broken bricks on the mob following behind while shouting all kinds of obscenities and the other crowd returned fire. It was two gangs in a fight. The gang in front of our house was not from our neighborhood. They were kids no one recognized, and soon they turned and quickly disappeared. The other people decided not to give chase since I guess they got them off their turf. 

I had seen something just like this in another neighborhood about 6 months ago, but it was something else to see it in front of your house. The park is normally full of kids that time of night, but no one came back out after that. The police eventually arrived, drove around the block without stopping, and took off, ignoring the crowd begging them to stop. I asked why they didn't and our neighbor said it is because they are afraid. "Would you get out of your car if you are two officers against a whole gang?" No wonder no one bothers with the police here. Come to think of it, that was the first time I had ever seen a police officer in our neighborhood. I mentioned that out loud and the neighbors said, "no, they have come one other time, to clear up a fight between the park drunks." 

So yesterday was an interesting day. Welcome back to Santa Cruz.