so much to report and no time to do it!

I have to run back to my site, but more to come on my birthday and Semana Santa-'Holy Week" in Ayacucho. For now, here are the photos of the anniversary party in Lima a month ago:


Former President Toledo


The present First Lady of Peru

16, 17, 18 de Abril 2011

The Small Business Development volunteers here in the canyon are developing a bicycle tour to promote tourism in the canyon. To finalize some decisions they needed someone to actually bike the proposed route. So, Tim and I decided to spend a few days making our butts and legs sore cycling through the canyon.
We took a bus to meet up in Chivay, then biked to Madrigal. 5 hours
We slept over night at my site, then entered the canyon going straight down (kind of felt like an extreme sport). Once we crossed the river the incline was so intense we had to walk a good portion of it. We ended at another volunteer's site called Cabanaconde. 7hours
In the morning tim bussed back to his site, but there are no buses that go from Cabanaconde to Madrigal. So, i biked back. 4 hours

Absolutely beautiful trip, and it felt SO good because it was so challenging!





The trip gave me a lot of time to think.
Honestly, I found myself thinking a lot about Cesar. While we have cultural differences that are strong and those differences give us moments of pain that is hard for both of us, we have an understanding for one another that is unexplainable, and maybe un-understandable to anyone but us.
When someone hurts me, I cut them off. I don't let them hurt me again.
He gets defensive when he gets hurt. He is accustomed to people (father, mother, brothers, aunts, uncles) cutting him off because of their own selfishness.
We both made mistakes in our relationship and even after a month of doing very well on our own we still longed for each other's presence. We weren't communicating because we realized our lifestyles just clashed too hard for us to be happy together. He is extremely social an charismatic. He has a handful of friends, some I get along with, some I don't. I am a bit more private. I really like just me time with the earth and animals when I am not working. I like small intimate conversations with close friends and he likes large parties with multiple acquaintances.
I sent him a message when we got off the bikes in Cabanaconde. It was the first time we had communicated in weeks, and I said simply something like, "You are in my thoughts. All I can do is hope that the social lifestyle you have chosen makes you happy. I wish our lifestyles were more similar and you were here with me, I want to conquer the world, just you and me. If there comes a day that you want that too, please come to me and I will be yours."
He called back quickly to tell me he loved me too and that he was sending me a birthday present on the 9pm bus to Madrigal the next day that I should go pick up. With silent polite and sad smiles we hung up.

At 9pm on the 18th Cesar de-boarded the bus in Madrigal. It was extremely romantic and some townsfolk started smiling and giggling and spreading the gossip immediately. He was with me for the first time in my territory. He saw my world for the first time and saw why I love it. He is currently pursuing a managerial position at a hostal in Cabanaconde so we will only be half a day's hike apart.
I love him, and the foolish love makes me happier than I have ever been in a relationship even through the cultural struggles.

I ask that all of my friends and family please be patient with us.
I have seen frustration on his side and on yours due to small misunderstandings that are almost always cultural.
Please, know that though I talk to you when things are rough, he is here by my side supporting me and loving me like no partner ever has. Please, support me in the decisions I make for me. The 24 hours of following him stepping off the bus were some of the happiest in my life as you can see in the April 19th entry to come...

15 Abril 2011

When we went out to milk the cows today one of the calves greeted us. He barreled his head into my thigh in search of the coca cola bottle I had in my hand. This calf was bought by a cousin of my host family and has been raised bottle fed. He saw me coming and wanted some of what he thought was milk, immediately. I attempted to show him my hands were empty by sticking the coke bottle in the back of my pants and he just started sucking in my fingers. I think it was my biological clock and hormones that fell in love with him as soon as his course tongue started to make the back of my fingers sore. He insisted I was his mother and kept barreling me in the arm, thigh and hip with the same motion the calves use on the mother’s utter when the milk isn’t coming out full force. Such a beautiful, sweet creature. And, big. That two month old weighs as much as I do!

14 Abril 2011

An emotional introduction: I do believe that people call me a passionate person. People scoff at my optimism and zealousness because it uses so much of my energy on a daily. Many outright say that I am crazy and naïve for doing the things that I do. Many appreciate what they have been given and don’t drop it to attempt to help people who have not had the same luck. They know coming here won’t change much, if anything, and they enjoy their gifts.
Before I came here, I felt that I couldn’t enjoy the gifts given to me if I knew there were so many without. I was riddled with guilt for enjoying a dance career.
But, now that I have come here, a numbness has come to attack my optimism. I see it in people who have devoted their lives to volunteering here. The mothers crying, the sick, the pain, it just doesn’t hit you like it did before. If it did, you couldn’t survive. You would lose your mind.

The story: My site is literally at the end of the road, but there is one walking path from Madrigal to a small village called Tapay. This village is deeper into the canyon from my town and it is about a day’s hike on a thin, unmarked path on the side of the steep canyon wall. Tapay has a microclimate because of its location and they grow fruit and vegetables year round. But, very few people live there because you can’t even ride a donkey in or out due to the vertiginous. There are less than 12 kids in the high school. When the teachers and doctors go in, they stay there a few days, then disappear back to the city until they feel like creturning. Medical and Educational access is limited here in Madrigal, but it is non-existent in Tapay. It is a dog and pony show, no more. It is a beautiful village that lives in an ancient time. I am sure that almost every tourist that has come through the canyon has a picture of the town taken from the other side of the canyon in their scrapbook.
Last week two tourists decided to hike from Madrigal to Tapay. Most people hike down from the other side of the canyon, but this pair was adventurous, and it isn’t an impossible hike by any means. I was actually supposed to hike part of it to go to the family’s alpaca ranch this past weekend as well. However, a series of rains came in and my host father cancelled the trip to the ranch because the trail would be too slippery and dangerous. The tourists didn’t get that memo. They got stuck on the path the night of the hail storm I wrote about last week. They called a tourism agency to tell them they were lost and then their phone died. A week later no one had heard from them, and the regional government sent a search and rescue team. Multiple trucks, vans, and helicopters came barreling into Madrigal. They have been here for a few days now.
My entire town is deeply concerned for these lost tourists, or at least they talk enough about them it seems that way. The gossip is all about whether they found them yet or which ancient read the coca leaves and what they told them about whether the couple is alive or not. For some reason, I don’t feel anything for the tourists. I shrug, and continue with my daily. There is nothing I can do to help them. I don’t feel anxious for them. Why? How heartless? Who is this woman that just doesn’t care? Then something hit me...

Where are the helicopters when a woman in Tapay needs to give birth? Where are the helicopters when a man has a heart attack and needs to get to a hospital immediately? Where are the government agencies bringing electricity and plumbing in their big white vans?
A government that is so obviously racist that the people expect it dominates here. Inequality is part of the game.
I could say that I am fighting for the people here to realize what is going on and teach them how Western civilization gained equal rights. But, do we even have them? Yes, when you call 911 an ambulance comes. But, if you are not part of the elite and cannot pay for the medical attention you need you are stabilized and kicked out. Is that equal? Is a tiered health care system equal? Is it just as ancient and barbaric as not sending a helicopter for the poor locals who need it?

It is hard to live this fight some days when the numbness overtakes…

13 Abril 2011

“Dear Jeremy, In the last few days I have been learning how to not trust people, and I am glad I failed. Sometimes, we depend on other people as a mirror to define us and tell us who we are. And each reflection makes me like myself a little more… Elizabeth.”

11 Abril 2011

This weekend was a productive weekend in Chivay.
Everything I can’t do in my cite I attempt to accomplish in a few short days every time I go. Now I am about to write a mixture of information that doesn’t really blend together in any particular way. Good luck following.

This week was the first round of presidential elections. Interestingly the leftist extremist ended up on top and the conservative female daughter of the ex-president and civil rights violator came in a not-so-close second. Ollanta and Keiko will continue on to the next round of elections against each other in about a month. I don’t know how Peru continually allows this to happen to themselves: the two presidential candidates they have to choose between are a conundrum.
If Ollanta becomes president he will governmentalize everything he can and it will only be a matter of time before he joins the Chavez, Ortega, Lulay, Correa club. And perhaps like Morales he will boot us (us being Peace Corps) out of the country because he is extremely nationalistic and anti-anywhere-but-Peru. Due to this mentality, I have put my fast-forward hat on (not kidding) with my projects.
If Keiko becomes president, who knows. Seriously, who knows? She has promised the world to the citizens of Peru, and who knows what she will/can actually do.

I had a mission in Chivay: the norm: bathe yourself, buy fruit and veggies. But, this time I decided to find my family a trash can with a sealable lid so the donkey can’t get into the garbage bag and toss everyones secrets around our patio (no one wants to see the things anyone else feels the need to throw away, trust me). Would you believe, a trashcan with a tight lid doesn’t exist for sale in the entire canyon? “No wonder” was the only thing passing through my head. Not only do they not have proper government officials to take away the trash, they don’t even have anywhere to put it in the meantime. Now, I dare you to tell me you wouldn’t burn your trash if no one came to pick it up except some random guy when he feels like it AND you couldn’t get a hold of a trash can to keep the stuff until he came. I finally gave in a forked up a good portion of my monthly income to buy a can whose lid didn’t seal and then paid the blacksmith to build a clamp to keep it donkey-proof. I really can’t afford it, but neither can they, and we need it!

Since the puppies had claimed the chicken coop my host father, sister, and I built a few months ago I have had to pay for my own eggs (craziness, I know). But, they are grown and gone and I bought us four young chickens this weekend. A young man was selling the chickens and promised they were all female. I found a little old woman walking in the market and asked her to help me pick out hens (we have had 5 chickens in the house that were promised to be hens and grew up to be roosters). No one needs one rooster, let alone five. Seriously, I do not get along with roosters. The sweet woman loved that the gringa was not only raising chickens, but also asking for her assistance. She not only picked out the biggest females in the cardboard pin, but she coached me on how to feed them and what remedies to give them if they get sick. They sat on my lap on the crowded van back to Madrigal and stunk up the joint. The good news was the guy sitting next to me smelled worse than my chickens so I didn’t feel so bad.

The married couple that lives in Chivay, Russ and Jean, held a potluck on Sunday as the election results were coming in… and I have to tell you a kitchen full of people who have been forced to make yummy foods out of nothing is a godsend. We all have refined our cooking talents like I would have never guessed. And I must say a little prayer thanking god for all the Mexican blood in the Peace Corps volunteers in my department. Chipotle chicken, guacamole, orchata… oh my Lord, thank you. Then, there was spicy curry with cool yogurt, roasted peanuts, and mango. Then, Kaysi shows up with Italian pasta as we pulled the fresh-baked cookies out of the oven. Maybe, kind of, a little bit of an international food orgy.

That night I slept on an extra bunk and was awoken when my bed started moving. Their cat decided he wanted to sleep with me and I just about cried I missed Mama so much. Today (two days later), I am sitting in bed developing the next talk for the teacher workshop and the family cat crawls into my bed. He hasn’t done this since I first moved here. The filthy littler booger was taking advantage of me I think, and I loved every minute. Beware: if I find a kitten anytime soon, it might become my partner in crime.

8 Abril 2011 take two

ok, a little less about me, a little more about peru.

Peruvian presidential elections are sunday, so i am going to stick around in chivay the rest of the weekend to watch the first round of election results come in. Here is what´s up:



In the lead in the poles (that change dramaticly daily, mind you) is Ollanta with 29.7% of the votes. Who I would call an extreme leftist that the less economically inclinded individuals tend to be leaning towards.
In second place with 21.8% is Keiko Fujimori, an extremely well educated young woman who´s father was president during the 90s and is known for ending the terrorism in Peru in that time. However, during his presidency he functioned as more of a dictator than a democratic president and is currently in jail for breaking international civil rights laws. ç
In third with 21.8% in the poles is Alejandro Toledo. An individual born in the pueblos of peru and grew to power by attending University at Stanford in the states. This would be his second term. Very smart man who gives his thanks to the Peace Corps for teaching him english.
18.7% of the poles go to Pedro Pablo Kiuksinksi (known as PPK). He is a white man who was born in peru. He was active in peruvian economics in Toledo´s previous presidency.
Then 11.4% goes to Castañeda the current mayor of Lima that headed a transportation project in Lima that is now a semi-successful train system downtown. Limeñans LOVE him for the success of this project.


First round elections are Sunday the 10th. That will narrow it down to two, and there will be another election in about a month (the date is not yet set).


Who do I want to win? No idea. As usual they all have their sucky points. Obviously it would me most beneficial for me if Toledo wins considering I have met him and he is extremely appreciative to the PEace Corps for all they did for him personally.
Pretty much all the educated individuals in Arequipa City are leaning towards PPK. He is a smart guy and not so radical. He would probably be very good for the PEruvian economy.
Then there is Ollanta, he is an extremist. And while he is ¨handsome¨, and very very Peruvian, he sacres me a little. When he was up in the poles a couple weeks ago the peruvian stock market plummetted. He would probably governmentalize every corporation he can, which is bad new for investers. While my poor neightbors pray every night for him to win, he might not be the best option at this point in the country´s development.

8 Abril 2011

Yesterday I hiked with a very light backpack from Madrigal to the small city of Chivay where I do my market shopping. There are small vans that do this route, I just felt the need to see, smell, and feel the journey. Less than 20 years ago (closer to 10, I think) people made this hike by donkey or by foot. I wanted to feel it... and I wanted a work out. The hike was about 15 miles with a slight inclination in altitude (uphill), it took me 5 hours and about 4 blisters to get into the city.

This is probably the first time I have felt comfortable enough to pull out my camera and take pictures because there was no one around.

So, this, ladies and gentlemen, is where I live:

Madrigal



Quinoa

The Squirrel and the Chipmunk By David Sedaris

The squirrel and the chipmunk had been dating for two weeks when they ran out of things to talk about. Acorns, parasites, the inevitable approach of autumn: these subjects had been covered within their first hour, and so breathlessly their faces had flushed. Twice they had held long conversations about dogs, each declaring an across-the-board hatred of them and speculating on what life might be like were someone to put a bowl of food in front of them two times a day. “they’re spoiled rotten is what it comes down to,” the chipmunk had said, and the squirrel had placed his paw over hers saying, “That’s it exactly. Finally, someone who really gets it.” Friends had warned them that their romance could not possibly work out, and such moments convinced them that the skeptics were not just wrong but jealous. “They’ll never have what we do,” the squirrel would say, and then the two of them would sit quietly, hoping for a flash flood or a rifle report- something, anything, that might generate a conversation. They were out one night at a little bar run by a couple of owls, when, following a long silence, the quirrel slapped his palm against the tabletop, “you know what I like?” he sad. “I like jazz.” “I didn’t know that,” the chipmunk said. “My goodness, jazz!” She had no idea what jazz was but worried that asking would make her sound stupid. “What kind, exactly?” she asked, hoping his answer might narrow things down a bit. “Well, all kinds, really,” he told her. “Especially the earlier stuff.” “Me too,” she said, and when he asked her why, she told him that the later stuff was just to later for her tastes, “Almost like it was overripe or something. You know what I mean?” Then, for the third time since she had known him, the squirrel reached across the table and took her paw. ... On returning home that evening, the chipmunk woke her older sister, with whom she shared a room, “Listen,” she whispered, “I need you to explain something. What’s jazz?” “Why are you asking me?” the sister said. “So you don’t know either?” the chipmunk asked. “I didn’t say I didn’t know,” the sister said. “I asked you why you’re asking. Does this have anything to do with that squirrel?” “Maybe,” the chipmunk said. “Well, I’m telling,” the sister announced. “First thing tomorrow morning, because this has gone on long enough,” She punched at her pillow of moss, then repositioned it beneath her head. “I warned you weeks ago that this wouldn’t work out, and now you’ve got the whole house in an uproar. Waltzing home in the middle of the night, waking me up with your dirty little secrets. Jazz indeed. Just you wait until Mother hears about this.” The chipmunk lay awake that night, imagining the unpleasantness that was bound to take place in the following morning. What if jazz was squirrel slang for something terrible, like anal intercourse? “Oh, I like it too,” she’d said- and so eagerly! Then again, it could just be mildly terrible, something along the lines of Communism or fortune-telling, subjects that were talked about but hardly ever practiced. Just as she thought she had calmed herself down, a new possibility would enter her mind, each one more horrible than the last. Jazz was the magot-infested flesh of a dead body, the crust on an infected eye, another word for ritual suicide. And she claimed to like it! Years later, when she could put it all in perspective, she’d realize that she had never really trusted the squirrel- how else to explain all those terrible possibilities? Had he been another chipmunk, even a tough one, she’d have assumed that jazz was something familiar, a kind of root, say, or maybe a hairstyle. Of course, her sister hadn’t helped any. None of her family had. “It’s not that I have anything against squirrels per se,” her mother had said, “It’s just that this one, well, I don’t like him.” When pressed for details, she’d mentioned his fingernails, which were a little too long for her taste. “A sure sign of vanity,” she warned. “And now there’s this jazz business.” That was what did it. Following the sleepless night, the chipmunk’s mother had forced her to break it off. “Well,” the squirrel had sighed, “I guess that’s that.” “I guess it is,” the chipmunk said. He headed downriver a few days later, and she never saw him or heard from him again. “it’s not a great loss,” her sister said. “No girl should be subjected to language like that, especially from the like of him.” “Amen,” her mother added. Eventually the chipmunk met someone else, and after she had safely married, her mother speculated that perhaps jazz was a branch of medicine- something like chiropractic therapy-that wasn’t quite legitimate. Her sister said, no, it was more likely a jig, and then she pushed herself back from the table and kicked her chubby legs into the air. “Oh, you,” her mother said, “that’s a cancan,” and then she joined in a gave a few kicks of her own. This stuck in the chipmunk’s mind, as she never knew her mother could identify a dance step or anything associated with fun. It was the way her own children would eventually think of her: dull, strict, chained to the past. She had boys, all of them healthy, and only one prone to trouble. He had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but his heart was good, and the chipmunk knew he would eventually straighten himself out. Her husband thought so too, and died knowing that he had been correct. A month or two after he’d passed on she asked this son what jazz was, and when he told her it was a kind of music, she knew instinctively that he was telling the truth. “Is it bad music?” she asked. “Well, it It’s played badly,” he said. “Otherwise it’s really quite pleasant.” “Did squirrels invent it?” “God, no,” he said. “Whoever gave you that idea?” The chipmunk stroked her brown-and-white muxxle. “Nobody,” she said. “I was just guessing.” When her muzzle grew more white than brown, the chipmunk forgot that she and the squirrel had had nothing to talk about. She forgot the definition of “jazz” as well and came to think of it as every beautiful thing she had ever failed to appreciate: the taste of warm rain; the smell of a baby; the din of a swollen river, rushing past her tree and onward to infinity.

7 Abril 2011

I didn´t sleep last night much at all. I had a lot running through my head. But, my body felt great )lots more energy due to a lack a parasitic invasion. I made a small bag (sweater, coat, socks, undies, toothbrush, knife, flashlight, dried fruit and nuts), and hiked to Chivay from Madrigal just for the beauty of it. 5 hours later everything on my body hurts and it feels great! good pain! pictures to come tomorrow... tune in again!

6 Abril 2011

I shot out of bed at 9 am. I had fallen asleep around 9 pm last night and wasn’t worried about setting an alarm because I was sure I would be up with the Sun as usual. From Sun-up to Sun-down, yesterday, we were in the fields harvesting potatoes. By the end of the day we had over 50 100-lb-bags of potatoes. We were 5 people in the field. My hands, feet and back ached and I started contemplating giving myself a chiropractic and acupuncture visit in Arequipa for my birthday. We will see if it is affordable next trip. But, in the middle of the night last night a hail storm came through and the dancing ice on my roof woke me up around 3am. Too cold to go to the bathroom or even make myself some tea, I laid in bed and waited for the ice to tap me back to sleep. Slowly, it became rain again and drummed to me the rest of the night. Stunned that I slept so late, I sprang out of bed and started readying myself for a day of teacher workshops. Coffee, bucket bath, cereal, and I am off. Today’s talk was the first of a 6-part workshop for the teachers. They selected the themes they wanted me to brig to them, and I focused the themes on what I thought they needed most. Today’s theme: basic brain development for teachers (focusing on memory and learning), and how to motivate and keep your kids’ attention. The first part was based on a Brotherson publication that really breaks the basics of brain development down well for parents and I applied this for the teachers here. First, I really focused on how important experience is for the brain to fully develop. Second, how teachers can teach for long term memorization with semantic methods as opposed to repetition which only leads to short term memorization (this was based on Crack & Lockart’s theory of semantic processing). Third, we finished with a program called “SLANT”, that I translated to “SEPAS” that is used in Charter schools of the KIPP program in Houston and NY (this was developed by some Teach For America Volunteeers names Levin & Feinberg). The program is a positive reinforcement program that encourages specific actions that lead to unavoidable attention from the students. I was completely and utterly stunned how interested the teachers were in everything I talked about in this 1-hour charla that turned into 2-hours for both the Primary and Secondary sessions. The teachers were full of great questions and extremely attentive. Somehow, I managed to make the session interactive and funny at parts so the teachers were engaged and laughing (this leads well into the next session about non-formal education and the importance of play in the classroom). I think that this was one of less than 5 times in my site where I was really able to identify with ME. I wasn’t playing the good PC volunteer. I wasn’t bored. I was just me, and only me. I was busy and professional all day. I was talking about my passion for over 4 hours today with people that want to hear about it. Arriving home late there were literally kids waiting outside the door for homework help. If only my everyday could feel so good! But, you know what, I wouldn’t change any day here for the world. Happy Birthday, Mom!

4 Abril 2011

At 4:30 this morning I was growling as I rolled out of bed for my 5 o’clock meeting with the mayor and council members. They meet at sunup because by about 8-10am they need to be in the fields. After a cup of Stumptown coffee and a splash of fresh melted icecap water on my face I was good to go. I was surprised at how professional and formal they were so early in the morning. Extremely gracious, extremely attentive they listened to my half-hour community diagnostic presentation. Madrigaleñans never cease to amaze me. This “administration” is new. It is not the administration that invited me to live and work in Madrigal so there was potential for things to go very badly. But, it didn’t at all. The opposite, in fact. The presentation consisted of 6 short parts: Who is Peace Corps Who am I What have I have been doing (surveys, mini projects, etc) What I found out about Madrigal What projects I would like to develop with the citizens. How the Municipality can contribute. The main contribution I requested from them was a space for me to use to teach the VALE program and for the youth to convert into a library over time. They were eager to offer me a large lovely space in the municipality. It has natural lighting and a tile floor (yay!). I had originally wanted this space to be in the school, but there was resounding agreement among the parent surveys that the public library should be in the municipality so they could use it too and so it was more centrally located for their children to come in the evenings. It is FANTASTIC news that the municipality is on board. They promised to install a door that locks within a week! I also requested that they fund buying paint supplies for painting a world map mural in the primary school with the secondary school students. The council was split on that one. Some said that because they are a new administration they are low on funds right now. The other half wanted me to write up a smaller budget, which I said was possible. So, if we can’t get the funding from the municipality perhaps I might be contacting you folks to see if you are interested in funding a VERY inexpensive project that is extremely important for the youth here and get your name painted on a wall in Peru. Why is painting a world map so important? Why do I focus 3 entire months on world arts projects with the students in the VALE program? They never study the world. Anything they learn about the world outside of Peru is strictly word-of-mouth. The governmental publicly administered text books leave the world out almost completely. The students only have knowledge on the history of Peru, and a little bit about South America, very little to nothing on anywhere else. In my surveys, when I asked them to draw a map of the world, most drew Peru. Some drew a rough South America. Few drew other continents. When I was in Ancash doing AIDS awareness workshops I passed some time playing with kids at their school. The volunteer at their site had done a world map project, and when I asked the kids where Russia was on the map, none knew. China? The United States? The continent of Africa? A couple knew US, one little girl knew were Africa was. This isn’t abnormal here. It is to be expected. I want to change that in Madrigal. The VALE program not only has them painting the map to familiarize, but it is linked with activities to view the culture of some representative countries. Wow, sorry about that ramble. Can you tell I am passionate about my work? Here is the updated VALE outline that went out in all my grant applications: Each small roman numeral represents a week. Outline of Volar A Las Estrellas (VALE): I. Exploration of the World a. Community Leadership Project: Paint World Map i. Who are we?-what is VALE and what are our names ii. What planet are we on?- our planet, gravity, and weather iii. What happened on this planet?- a short history of the world iv. What is Russia? v. What is Japan? vi. What is India? vii. What is Egypt? viii.What is Ghana? ix. What do they eat?- preparing World foods x. What can I do with trash?- recycling activities II. Exploration of the Community a. Community Leadership Project: better community library i. Do I like to read? –sparking interest in reading books for fun ii. How can I find what I need on a computer?- getting to know Windows computer programs iii. How do I find out? –learning how to research answers to questions iv. What is a democracy?- learning what democracy means v. What is a good leader?- learning how to lead vi. How do I organize?-Learning how to put and keep things in their place vii. How do I work in a group?- Practicing working together viii.How do I manage a business?- learning about supply and demand and how to keep record books ix. What is the role of a woman/man? Discrimination exploration x. What is domestic violence? How to recognize abuse and what can be done about it xi. What is alcoholism? What alcohol does to the body III. Exploration of the Self a. Community Leadership Project: building a community newspaper as well as personal diaries b. Salud i. How do I feed my body? Nutrition ii. How do I keep my body healthy? Hygiene and sanitation in the house iii. How does my body work? A look at organ systems and healthy body excrements iv. What is safe sex? Sexually transmitted diseases and family planning* v. Why is my body changing? An explanation of puberty* c. The individual and their personalities i. How can I collect my thoughts?- work with the diaries ii. How do I think up something new? Sparking creativity and art iii. What is my favorite? Being an individual iv. How can I be a great leader? Practice leading v. How do I feel about me? Self-esteem *Only for the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades of the Secondary school. I don’t think the Municipality members really understood the importance of all the topics in the program, but they were all about it when I sad, “Lots of volunteers find funding to build beautiful libraries that sit empty. We don’t want that in Madrigal. If the youth develop the library themselves they will want to protect it. And, if they accustom themselves to coming there nightly to do homework and activities (instead of my house) the potential for the library to be active is huge. We hope that this program VALE will secure that.” To be totally honest, I did feel a little bit assertive in the meeting. I have been extremely tool-like to the citizens of Madrigal until recently; Asking them what they want, being the bounce back for them to brainstorm on how to get it done, then the human resource to help get it done. This municipality is stepping in a little late in that process. I don’t have so many questions anymore, potential solutions have been developed, and I want the mayor and council members to be onboard. The assertiveness could be a good thing considering I was one of two women in a room full of men. But, I am also HYPER-sensitive to conceitedness. I put a huge effort forward to not appear narcissistic in this work because I see such a HUGE majority of other volunteers and NGO workers acting that way. Like they are offering a service to the people here as if they aren’t receiving anything in return from them. I probably fall on the other end of the spectrum sometimes and even appear weak because I really don’t want to intimidate any locals. I am a politician in a sense and always trying to make Peace Corps and Americans look gracious and good so people work with me and ultimately they receive more. I reflect on the meeting hoping that I didn’t step on any toes with my confidence and everybody just wants to dance with me! Tomorrow is the first teacher workshop that is linked to the VALE program. The teachers requested that I show them a way to motivate students and keep them focused. So, I am teaching them a program developed by Levin and Feinberg for KIPP used in Houston and NY and other inner-city Charter schools. I also decided that I wanted to throw in a very basic brain development lecture. The main teaching method in these schools is wrote. Just read and copy. It is known that this form of memorization never enters long-term-memory, it just hangs out in short-term for a bit then dissolves. So the teachers are going to get a quick (very, very skim the surface) chat on teaching for semantic learning. Aka, play. So, the rest of my day will be focused on finishing writing the talk and making poster boards to present with. Wish me luck!

3 Abril 2011 take two (9:40pm)

I really am not good at knitting. I am sitting here, knowing that the Peruvian presidential debates are being broadcast publicly right now, but my entire town is asleep. I have no tv and would kill to be watching these debates right now. So, I am knitting and listening to recorded NPR podcasts. It is so cold that my tea stays hot about 5 minutes, so I am making a coozie for my tin teacup. It really isn’t very pretty, and soon I will be doubting its functionality. Knitting is really not my calling. Oh well.

3 Abril 2011

The bus from Arequipa dropped me off in Chivay at 5am. There was a comvi leaving for madrigal at 6 so I jumped on. Once there were 20 people crammed into the 15 passenger van they decided to pull out. I can’t believe how much colder it has gotten in the canyon since a week ago when I left. I had sandals on in Arequipa city and thought I was being a little silly piling on 3 pairs of the smartwool socks my mother sent me to come back home. No, not silly. Two pairs of paints, three long-sleeve shirts, sweater, gloves, scarf, hat, and hood weren’t silly either. And, I was still a little chilly. I always think that I am being a wimp when I make these little jaunts and see the tiny 70-year-old woman with bags of potatoes to sell in Arequipa City on their backs. Yeah, I have a bag full of a month’s worth of fruit and vegetables, but they do not weigh like potatoes do… and I am 24 without a humpback.

When I arrived at the house at around 9am my host sister and father were boiling the morning’s milk. They were delighted when I pulled hot chocolate mix out of my bag. I kind of feel sneaky with this hot chocolate. I found it about 4 months ago and it is pumped with vitamins, so I keep getting it every month. I feel like I am sneaking something dangerous into their food when I offer them chocolate.
Hey, that just gave me an idea. What if I could get local governments to economically supplement foods with vitamins so they are less expensive for poor communities to purchase? Especially something like hot chocolate! They already love the stuff, there wouldn’t be much of a daily shift to “get to” eat hot chocolate more often. Hmmmm.

Any ways, over hot chocolate my host father says, “El liebre ha partido!”-“The rabbit has parted”. I had never heard this phrase before. I am thinking, “It left?”. I gave him my confused face that he knows all too well and he says laughing, “The rabbit has parted, now we have a bunch of little rats running around in the pen.” Ah ha! So he said, “the rabbit has split”, not parted. I found this phrase hilarious and he made a joke about me being nauseous so often that maybe I will part soon too. Yeah, not so funny anymore. I promised him that the stuff that was growing in my belly has definitely ‘parted’. No more parasites for me.
But, in all honesty, it is cute how much Don Juan treats me like a daughter. He would just be fit as a fiddle if I brought a man home to him and announced marriage or pregnancy. I think he gets worried sometimes that I am 24 without a wedding or babies in the near future. And we share worry every time I think of the fact that the average age for a woman to give her first birth here is 19.

2 Abril 2011

I got to talk to my brother for almost an hour today.

It was beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

So beautiful it made me want to spend everything I have to get a USB stick that will connect me to the internet in the canyon.

I miss my family and friends. I miss newspaper articles that are well written and pertain to the world. I miss movies. I miss reading journal articles. I feel like the world of neuroscience has left me in the dust... literally.

I know this opportunity is beautiful in itself, and I love it, with all my heart. I just wish I could have my cake and eat it too!

So I went to the phone store to try and buy the internet stick. After almost a year of resisting it, I was proud of my decision to succumb to the interweb.

The guy at the counter says, "sorry, but I can't sell you that if you are going to use it in the canyon. The signal is not strong enough."

We had an extremely polite argument about him letting me buy it and try. If it doesn't work, I will be out the cash, not him. But, apparently, that isn't the case. He would be fined if I broke a year contract.

A little crushed... or maybe a lot. I return to the canyon tonight still nauseous from the parasites but in a remarkably good mood.

No matter how frustrated I get with life, my world in the canyon always balances itself out.

1 Abril 2011 take two

ladies and gentlemen,

i have survived multiple intestinal infections, altitude sickness (bloody noses, headaches, weakness and nausea), and multiple dangerous bus rides in the canyon.

now...

it is time....

for parasites.

The poop analyses are in, an I am on an anti-parasitic drug waiting to see worms in the toilet.

ew.

1 Abril 2011

After I blogged yesterday I received a post master message that the e-mail I sent to the NGO with my grant application didn't go through.

I sent it again.

Got it back.

Broke it into three e-mails. sent it again.

got it back

called the NGO, they said try again

again

nothing

again

nothing

from around 10am-3pm i kept sending it in different ways and formats.

my bus was supposed to leave at 4 from the city.

at 3:30 the grant that was due today still hadn't gone through.

I had to leave by 4 and I had to have this grant go through.

what happens when lauren has a conundrum like this?

she starts crying.

I froze. there was nothing i could do to control the situation.

only one bus goes to my site.

where i don't have internet

one application, one due date.

"Prioritize," Cesar says. "I know you want to be able to do everything these people need, but you can't. Reschedule your presentation with the mayor. Stay on the computer until the grant goes through.

"You have been so busy with the grant application and presentations this week you haven't even had time to get your groceries for the month, and I really don't want you to go back to the canyon without any fruits or vegetables.

"It will be fine, breath. The most important is your health, darling."

Seems logical now.

I think the solution is to try and figure out a way to purchase a usb device that connects you to the internet via cell phone service. I didn't want it before because I liked being cut off and it is expensive. But now, the idea of not having to leave my site in order to advance my projects is beautiful. The idea of being able to talk to my family from my very own home is delicious.

And not having nervous breakdowns like this one would be delightful...