Three weeks of the eight have gone by, its crazy to think that we are nearing the halfway point. Again, this week hasn’t been out-of-the-ordinary in terms of routine, but there were certainly a whole bundle of things that were extraordinary and unique to this little city in Bolivia. I’ve written about some of them below - pick and choose if your in a rush, there are photos too - if your too lazy to read…!

Wednesday, Alligator Alert! There we stood in the shadow of a tree, playing hide-and-seek with scorching sun, yelling out in some garbled form of Spanish, attempting to encourage the more ‘lethargic’ kids to complete the final lap of their warm-up around the football pitch. Suddenly the cry of ‘Aligátor!!!’ was heard from the far corner. Looking in disbelief at my American co-volunteer, I joined the tirade of young Bolivians who were suddenly very keen to complete at least half of the final lap and race to where the cry was first heard. When we reached the corner of the field, there were no blood or guts as half expected, but rather a great deal of commotion around a marshy canal, and much to my horror/ delight I caught sight of the tail of a rather large alligator slipping into the water. I did an emergency headcount, but thankfully, the critter wasn’t feeling particularly peckish and so it took no interest in an easy dinner (Though I was concerned that this was the cousin of the alligator we ate the other day) and presumably would have began swimming back down the canal. The kids however were not satisfied with a mere glimpse, and began launching rocks into canal in the hope of hitting the poor alligator - which they did, a few times. Though not a wise idea, this was fun. With some hindsight, this is not something I would outright recommend, but the sport of watching such a predator splashing about in the water was entertaining, and I couldn’t help become absorbed in the adrenaline fuel frenzy. It was then that the sunstroke availed for enough time to allow me to gain some grip on reality to remembered that this was a football pitch and not a zoo. Not wanting to be caught up in some sort of 'Aligator-gate' scandal we made a swift move around the rest of the kids. Thankfully, no kids were eaten, saying that now though I think forgot to do a final headcount…

Friday, A Sweat Infused Nightmare! This week was an introduction to what real heat is. Simply put, the South American sun is an unrelenting beast. At the end of a each day Tom and I now help each other change, peeling off the layers that are seemingly glued onto our skin. The week was a pleasant week, but by all means a sweat infused marathon. Each morning began with us re-living our younger bed-wetting days except this time the beds were soaked with perspiration, each siesta nap would include an intense pray session asking for wind to blow through into the room, each night would greet us with hours of laying on a mattress wishing and waiting for sleep to grip us. On Friday, just when we thought the ‘sweat-athon’ was over, we were asked to help in the kids club, our naive minds leapt at this chance of ministry, little did we know that for the next two hours this meant sitting in a room swelling with kids, helpers and the full weight of the Bolivian heat. The abnormal perspiration of the Bolivian helpers was of little encouragement as we sat separated and helpless, facing up to wave after wave of a sweat infused nightmare. We would occasionally look over at our fellow volunteers and nod in some mutual ‘I-feel-ya-pain’ sorta way, wondering how soon it would be until our bodies would run out of water and just shrivel up. The most embarrassing moment came when I was asked to help cut some verses out of the paper which was thrust onto my lap, much to my horror the paper literally melted in my hands, within seconds my sweaty palms had turned the paper soggy, I swear parts of the paper were beginning to disintegrate. After much effort and uneasiness, I managed to produce some pulpy like slips which looked as if they had endured a 40 minute quick spin in the washing machine. I sheepishly passed the saturated slips to the helper who looked at me with some degree of sympathy and said, ‘Estas caliente?’ (Are you hot?), I squeaked out a subdued ‘Si, muy caliente…’ (Yes, very hot…) and silently prayed for the imminent return of the Lord.

Saturday, Lost and Found! Saturday found us endeavouring to fill the big ‘icecreamless' hole in our stomachs and hearts. Our strategy for fulfilment was that we would get taxis into town, which would drop us outside the ice-cream shop and we would gorge ourselves until our stomach would quite literally exploded (3 out of the 5 are lactose intolerant…). After a five minute journey we were, for some unbeknown reason, dropped off in two random and separate locations around town. The taxi drivers whizzed off and left us standing on a dingy street, helpless and alone. Tom, Haley and I then embarked on a quest to find Juliana and Brittany - we walked down dusty streets, hopped over open drains, and scurried around moving traffic, hoping/praying that we would find our companions and more importantly have enough time to eat our ice-cream. The adventure came to an end much more quickly than anticipated, much to our surprise, a missionary who was shopping nearby spotted us and helped reunite the happy volunteer family safely back together again **Awwwww**… The ice-cream was good too!

Friday, The Trio! It was at basketball training that I met two girls and their baby brother. The eldest is no older than eight, the younger is four years old, and the baby brother is just over a year. They spend their day pushing him round in an old pushchair along dirty, dangerous, busy roads to get to basketball or wherever their day may take them. The girls, though young, are remarkably responsible, caring for him in such loving way, cuddling him when he cry’s and keeping him entertained with the toy they have strung up on the hood of the chair. They are in essence young mothers, and in part its heart-breaking - they shouldn’t need to carry the weight of such a burden so young, yet it is so heart-warming to see the love and sense of care they share for one another. Sadly, this doesn’t fit into my ‘Only in Bolivia’ category as this is a global problem, but how can I not write about how broken this world is and how much they need the love of a Saviour. Please pray for them.

By default, the things that first look fascinating, become normalised quicker than expected. The poverty, the stench of open drains, the small, dusty brick houses, the pop-up shops on every street corner, the friendly stares from curious residents, horses and dogs casually basking in the sun, endless motorbikes whizzing past, and giggling children happily playing in the streets. These same things that we first stared at with inquisitive, child-like expressions are now commonplace - it means we are settling in well. Nearly everyday though, I find myself looking at something or watching people outside when I suddenly have a fresh realisation of our purpose here and the need these people have for the love of Jesus. There is so much work to be done here, the city is wide and sprawling, and the work here tries to cover as much ground as possible, but in reality it reaches just a small percentage of the the people here, so please, keep praying with us for these people and for the missionaries too. Even though there is much to be done, we are confident in both the day-to-day and eternal purposes and working of God.