Some volunteers and I traveled into Chivay today.
Patience is a virtue, especially when you are hitching rides.
We are building trust with the locals, and I have to say I have never been so happy to wait 4 hours for a ride. Casual conversation is like gold for us right now.
September 1, 2010
24 Agosto 2010
Today is my last day in Arequipa city before I head out to the rurality {is that a word?} of Madrigal and Colca Canyon. The other volunteers and I have been shopping for the few items we know we will need once we get to site: gas camping stove, baby wipes for those days you just can't get into that freezing cold water to shower, surge converters so we don't fry the town with our electronics, mattress, etc. The one thing none of us hesitated to do was A. talk to a couple family members and friends before we disappear into oblivion for a couple weeks and B. eat tasty food. A 3rd year volunteer that is heading back to the states took us to the least expensive and most delicious restaurants he has staked out around town. Juiced Strawberries for less than $2, turkey bacon avocado sandwich with every spicy sauce in the country for less than $3, actual ice cream for less than $1, and the kicker: pizza! I feel like a couple of these delicacies need explanation. Ice cream is hard to come by for a couple reasons, 1) milk is sold, not eaten. A Peruvian company named Gloria comes to the rural towns and pays decently for their farm raised cows' milk. 2) no one has a fridge, let alone a freezer. The second explanation is pizza I am sure. Enjoy your 24 hour pizza joint. "Why," you might ask "is pizza so hard to come by?" Once again milk. Cheese comes from milk, milk is valuable. I have found that many Peruvian restaurants use whatever white melty substance they can find to sprinkle on their pizza. Coming from a forever cheese lover, and with all due respect, yuck. But there is this one joint off the main plaza of Arequipa City that sells delicious pizza, reasonably priced ($5 personal pan) and if you catch a deal day they will serve you DRY RED WINE!! Also very hard to come by as the Peruvian palette is very sweet. I had ceased from wine consumption until we discovered this little establishment because I just couldn't handle sipping communion wine over conversation.
Loving on Arequipa city for its Europeanism {is that another word I just made up?} With much fear and excitement we headed off to the Canyon. With all the excitement I packed my bus ticket inside my passport somewhere inside 80lbs of luggage and my dear friend America calmed me down and got the bus line to write up another ticket for me and counseled me into the bus mattress and all. I was flustered, and she was efficient and soothing. I am very thankful that her town is only one hour away from mine walking.
That evening on the bus I was feeling exasperated. Not having had time or privacy enough to meditate for about a week I could not sift through the emotions of fear and excitement properly. To what should be no one's surprise a 5-year-old worked them out for me. Her mother was in the bus seat across from us, with a baby nursing in her lap. The 5-year-old was standing between the window, her mother's legs, and the seat in front of her. Looking at me like the alien that I am I invite her to my lap with her mother's permission. Fully aware of the 4 hour bumpy, smelly ride we have ahead and the potential for her to be there for the duration, my heart allows the invitation regardless of my logic's resistance. She looked at her mother's eyes imploringly, and got the nod. for the remainder of the ride we pointed at the nature we passed and named everything, then Sumi drew them in my journal. Because there was only one horizon in her drawing, and we passed through so many landscapes, they all meshed into one in her tiny sketch. Mountains, fields, trees, even a sun and moon in the same sky. Excercising her coordination through hand clapping games I rembered my mother playing the same game with me as she drove when I was little. My mother would lay her hand palm up, and I would tap her hand with mine and she would try to close her hand around my fingers before I pulled away. Requiring little to no concentration from the adult, this brought never-ending joy to my little body, and the same to this little one. Sumi's obviously stunted growth and wispy thin hair screamed malnourishment at me as I thought of the chocolate covered raisins in my bag. She brought me back down to earth as we munched on the raisins together and sipped just enough water to rinse our throat, but not enough to make us have to pee, because restrooms only awaited 4 hours away unless we wanted to stop the bus and squat on the mountain side.
I arrived in town after nightfall. My steardy little house father got out of his bed 6 hours before he had to wake up and head to the fields. He carried my mattress on his back and wouldn't let me help. I pulled my inappropriately large suitcase along the cobblestone road. It bounced uncomfortably and my foreign-ness echoed down the streets.
Loving on Arequipa city for its Europeanism {is that another word I just made up?} With much fear and excitement we headed off to the Canyon. With all the excitement I packed my bus ticket inside my passport somewhere inside 80lbs of luggage and my dear friend America calmed me down and got the bus line to write up another ticket for me and counseled me into the bus mattress and all. I was flustered, and she was efficient and soothing. I am very thankful that her town is only one hour away from mine walking.
That evening on the bus I was feeling exasperated. Not having had time or privacy enough to meditate for about a week I could not sift through the emotions of fear and excitement properly. To what should be no one's surprise a 5-year-old worked them out for me. Her mother was in the bus seat across from us, with a baby nursing in her lap. The 5-year-old was standing between the window, her mother's legs, and the seat in front of her. Looking at me like the alien that I am I invite her to my lap with her mother's permission. Fully aware of the 4 hour bumpy, smelly ride we have ahead and the potential for her to be there for the duration, my heart allows the invitation regardless of my logic's resistance. She looked at her mother's eyes imploringly, and got the nod. for the remainder of the ride we pointed at the nature we passed and named everything, then Sumi drew them in my journal. Because there was only one horizon in her drawing, and we passed through so many landscapes, they all meshed into one in her tiny sketch. Mountains, fields, trees, even a sun and moon in the same sky. Excercising her coordination through hand clapping games I rembered my mother playing the same game with me as she drove when I was little. My mother would lay her hand palm up, and I would tap her hand with mine and she would try to close her hand around my fingers before I pulled away. Requiring little to no concentration from the adult, this brought never-ending joy to my little body, and the same to this little one. Sumi's obviously stunted growth and wispy thin hair screamed malnourishment at me as I thought of the chocolate covered raisins in my bag. She brought me back down to earth as we munched on the raisins together and sipped just enough water to rinse our throat, but not enough to make us have to pee, because restrooms only awaited 4 hours away unless we wanted to stop the bus and squat on the mountain side.
I arrived in town after nightfall. My steardy little house father got out of his bed 6 hours before he had to wake up and head to the fields. He carried my mattress on his back and wouldn't let me help. I pulled my inappropriately large suitcase along the cobblestone road. It bounced uncomfortably and my foreign-ness echoed down the streets.
23 Agosto 2010
Day 1 (of 2) in Arequipa city before we head off to our sites and we are invited to the bull fights. You can only imagine how disinterest swelled in my cheeks. But, right now, the priority is being together. These 5 other American volunteers that will live in Colca Canyon are going to be my support system for the next two years, and I will be theirs. The last thing I want to do is separate myself from the group on my first day in the Department with them. Reassured by a volunteer at his close of service that the bull fights are humane and they don't get hurt, we go. Looking back on the day, I am filled with contentment that I decided to attend.
When we arrived at the "stadium" we find it to be mountains of people piled up in some make-shift bleachers, and trucks containing the 'torros'-bulls on the other side of a large sandy ring. Once we found a place where we could all see I stopped to breath in the visual. Bottom to top: at my feet a caja of Arequipenian beer, in front of me women in their traditional hats seated sipping beer, standing beside them friendly and tipsy men in cowboy hats betting on bulls, ahead of us two bulls head to head in an honor contest- not a fight to the death match, behind them the trucks that brought them here painted in pride with the bulls' names, in the distance snow peaked mountains and between them the moon raising in the dusk.
The game we were seeing was entertaining and harmless. Just as the bulls and rams do in the wild, the two bulls push head to head when they see one another, and the first one to turn and trot away is the losing bull. No one gets hurt, the fun is in the betting. They make little 2 sole (60 centish) wages on who will win based on weight, neck girth, and ball size just for the fun of it. Our Peace Corps boys learned a bit or two on betting, and not to bet on opposing bulls to the same Peruvian, cause no matter what, the Peruvian wins. Haha! Disinterested in beer I treated myself to cotton candy at this fair-like event. It was delightful; the day, not just the puffed candy.
August 22, 2010
21 August 2010
Today was surreal
My first day as a Peace Corps volunteer was spent in Lima city.
On a day where nothing changed
The Lima sky bore its usual grey
The taxis their usual recklessness
the sidewalks their usual city coated filth
But everything changed today.
Today I awoke as a United States Peace Corps Volunteer and packed my things to travel to my site assignment.
With the same bag I have been living out of for the past 10 weeks, I pulled out an outfit I have worn a thousand times, and felt fresh. I felt like me.
With pride and familiarity we walked the city streets without need for a map, or PC staff assistance on how to gallivant. Now, in touch with the customs and culture of our new home, Peu, we prepare to leave each other. With divergent emotions we prepare for our new world today. This country surely has not changed sense we arrived, but in our eyes, nothing is the same. Do I look different? Can you see the transformation that happened over night? I can feel it.
With the capacity that is now instilled in us, we autonomously go.
The shadow over the novel day was the knowledge of our strongest support system being pulled away again. The newly sworn in volunteers are being scattered across the country. The strength in these young friendships are beautiful and everlasting. Libby has become a sister to me, and so many other trainees have provided the only ears that can understand, the only hearts that can empathize, and the only minds that can decipher my feelings with me.
With all due reflexive love and respect- we go.
20 Agosto 2010
Today we packed our things early in the morning, had a final meeting at the training center, and then were all shipped to Lima all dolled up with all our luggage to the Embassy for swearing in.
What a moment of pride. I think I was more proud in this moment than I ever was for my high school or college graduation. It was very hard to be on American soil, at my Peace Corps Commencement without my family. I wanted to share this happy day with you SO badly!
The oath we recited is the same as the military oath, and includes, "protecting the united states constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic" creepy.
My one-way ticket to Arequipa, Peru is gripping
19 Agosto 2010
This week I have returned to Lima and we have begun all of the formalities of finalization.
The photo below is of libby´s host family´s kids. We became very close during my time in Lima.
Reports, interviews, presentations, tests. ug
Today we also prepared a little celebration for the host families in appreciation. This was kind of a rough day in the end. Some volunteers have gotten very close to their host familys, mysefl included. They have really taken care of me, and I think I have become a little happy meal sized member of the family.
They have taught me so much of the Peruvian way and language. They are so patient with me and so giving. I have definitely learned more language by living with them than I learned in the curriculum based language classes.
We had language exchanges, recipe exchanges, help exchanges, and in the end, gift giving. I printed out photos of us all together for them in a frame, and had brought back the ladies earrings from Piura, and nice toffees from Arequipa. My host sister gave me a pair of heels that you can see me wearing in the picture because she said I needed them (yup, I didn't pack them, who would have thought I would need heels in Peace Corps) apparently heels are the way to get respect in government meetings, flats just don't cut it in Peru. My house mom and dad told me I needed warmer PJs for the cold nights in Arequipa. I agreed, but didn't get around to purchasing any. They of course surprised me with some VERY nice pajamas the night they all sat in my room and watched me pack my things. They took such good care of me. They taught me how to get around safely, and happily. We love each other in a way I never expected, and I know I have a South American family for the rest of my life, and they an American one. So if I call you some day and ask if my Peruvian sister can bum at your house while she travels The States, I beg of you to open your house to her as she has opened her family and heart to me.
The photo below is of libby´s host family´s kids. We became very close during my time in Lima.
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