27 Diciembre 2010

Christmas eve night was incredible.

It is tradition here to stay up until midnight and then unveil the baby Jesus in the nativity scene and set of fireworks. Cesar's house is in one of the highest parts of the city of Arequipa and at midnight we went up to the roof top and literally watched every house in the city set off illegal fireworks below. With the city lights and the inexpensive fireworks it looked like the entire city had two sparkling levels. It was utterly and truly beautiful. I had never seen anything like it. For the first time I thank you, weak police force, for allowing us such a pretty tradition.

Now, I have taken a vacation. Cesar and I decided not to go the beach (tear!) because we just don't want to take the vacation days traveling and it will be very costly. Instead, we are headed where a bunch of his friends live, CUZCO! He lived there for a while a few years back, and I have never been there. This is the famous location of the all holy Machu Pichu. How perfect to be at the center of so much earthly energy to ring in the new year! Cesar got a job in Cuzco because the tourism in Arequipa is very low right now. He will start working the day we arrive, so I will have a lot of me time to meditate, read, and write. Then in the evenings we can have a good time together and I don't have to think about work AT ALL for an entire week! I am very much looking forward to it.

24 Diciembre 2010

Feliz Noche Buena, Navidad, y Fiestas!

22 Diciembre 2010

The closing ceremony for the Primary(Elementary) school was this morning and I was invited to hand out diplomas. Totally nerve racking cause I should say something inspirational to each student, but pretty cool to be a part of.

After the ceremony all the teachers (that had moved to the town to teach for the school year) moved back to Arequipa for summer break. So, when they invited me to ride with them to the city I packed a bag in under 5 minutes and decided to surprise my boyfriend for the holidays.

Mid ride it started to rain, as it is the rainy season here that is to be expected. But, then it started to downpour. By far, the hardest rain yet this season. The beautiful little droplets started tearing up the steep walls of the canyon pulling small mountains of loose earth over the road. We were forced to stop driving and wait for the deluge to pass. Of course, the teachers had suitcases on the roof of the van that we decide to bring inside so the clothes inside wouldn't get wet. We piled about 15 sopping wet bags on top of about 10 people in a 6 person van. Quickly the storm disappeared behind the foggy window pain and all we could do is listen and wait. Some kids and I started playing the little game where you count the time between the lightening and thunder and they got a mini lesson on light and sound travel (yup, i'm always on the job, it's pitiful). As my jeans absorbed moisture from the bag on my lap the temperature continued to rise int he van. Then one of the professors from a neighboring town and I started making jokes about getting out and walking to the nearest town (Chivay). We decided we wanted to stretch our legs. But, once we got out of the van, we never got back in. We grabbed out bags and just started hiking towards town. The rain had slowed, and their weren't rocks falling anymore. The road was covered in light saturated mud that the cars couldn't get through, but our boots sure could. It was probably the most beautiful hike I have taken, to date, in the canyon. The huge clouds crawled over the sides of the canyon and purged more and more sparkling droplets over the dry terraced fields.

Somehow, I have learned to always be self sustaining in the canyon. You never know when you are going to get stuck somewhere for days. So, my bag is always a little more weighted than one would like, but I am never without. Well, never except today. My little emergency pack always has a granola bar or cookies in it. Of course, today that stash hadn't been replenished. I had yogurt for breakfast, it was 3 o'clock and my tummy was grumbling. I wasn't the only uncomfortable one. The teachers I was hiking with were in their business attire. Fortunatly my hearty boots got me through when the mud engulfed my leg up to mid calf, but the teachers weren't so lucky in their loafers. Somehow, and very fortunately, everyone was in good spirits and laughing through the whole experience. Perhaps it was the beauty of the rain that carried us as we passed car after car stuck or waiting for the rains to pass. Or perhaps we were just a group of crazy adventurous types. Haha. When we got closer to the city there was a van waiting for the rain to pass to head out of Chivay. We convinced him to give us a ride to Chivay and come back (I might have threatened to eat him if he didn't take us, I was SO hungry).

Celebratory, we arrived in Chivay before the early afternoon bus to Arequipa parted. As we went up to buy our tickets the vendor shook her head, it was 15 minutes until the bus would leave and all the seats were full. Vanquished! We would have to wait for the midnight bus. Well, maybe not... there were a lot of people trapped on the road to Chivay that probably had tickets and wouldn't make it. We decided to play "stand-by" with the busses. I was flashed with memories when Mama and I were travelling home for the holidays a few years ago and our flight was cancelled so we bounced around from gate to gate trying to squeeze on a plane. I remember convincing the flight attendendent my dogs' bladder would be full soon and we had to get on the next flight and she got us on! This time it didn't take as much coaxing. Because most of the folks int he terminal were tired and testy, I think the woman working the door took to me and the other professors goofy, lighthearted attitude. Joking with her about her putting us in the under-cabin where they transport the llamas or on the roof where I could get a rain-bath (because I surly stank after my week at site without showering) convinced her to wave us over when they got a phone call and a couple seats opened up.

What a journey! And in the end I got to see the delightedly surprised face of my loving boyfriend at the bus terminal in Arequipa. It was then that I realized I left the small bag of Christmas presents for him and his family back in Madrigal! Vanquished again! It will have to be a Christmas wrapped in the gift of loving care and yummy food!

21 Diciembre 2010

Today was super frustrating.

I spent the whole day building a chicken coop in my host family's house. Partly because I want free eggs, but mostly because they have such little protein in their diet. Having free eggs and chickens there that they can eat whenever would only be a good thing (it is free because I am paying for it).

As I was building it with my host sister my host father came back from he fields and started to help. I LOVE when he helps build because he has so much more experience with the local materials than I do. However, today he was not so helpful. He kept changing the design. I am always subservient to him in the household. There are multiple reasons for this 1) it is the peruvian way for women to be obedient to men, and peace corps spends a lot of energy convincing us we can be more effective if we work within their system instead of trying to conquore it, they are right 2) it is his house I am making changes to and he has every right to have the last say. Being so submissive is a HUGE challenge for me, but I have a great relationship with my host father. Anywho, the changes he was making to the design for the chicken coop were not beneficial. He was trying to get it done faster instead of do it well, in my opinion. As I was watch the chicken coop get less sturdy and less sturdy my heart collapsed. I was so looking forward to building this for the family and now it looks like a ramshackle house that will only survive 5 rainy seasons or so, not a lifetime.

I bought all the materials for the coop and will be purchasing the chickens for the family and probably their feed when we don't have corn at hand. I imagined this expensive and laborous project would be my Christmas gift to the family. But, my host father asked me, as we were building, jokingly what I was going to give him for Christmas. I was crushed. I can't just say, "all this wood, in your hands!" I don't know what I am going to do about that, it isn't like I have the funds to buy the whole family presents now.

Then, we finish the coop. It turns out pretty lovely, and I am proud of it. It will do.

My host father says, "Now we can move the guinea pigs in here, and when we have time we will build the second level for the hens."

NOOOOOOOOOOO!! my brain screams. This is not a cage for guinea pigs that you already have! This is a CHICKEN coop! For CHICKENS! So you have eggs to supplement your family's meals every day! It is not so the guinea pigs you eat twice a year have more space to run around and poop. If I thought he was actually going to build a second level for the guinea pigs I would be totally down for both because that would get the guinea pigs out of the kitchen. But, the problem is I don't know how to build the second floor, and I know he won't do it without me pestering him about it. Also, it is dangerous to put guineas and chickens in the same cage because they can infect each other very easily via their poop. If there are too floors in the coop it needs to be VERY well done, and I just don't have faith that he will do this.

After an entire day of chicken coop building and dreaming about eating eggs everyday I find out that the coop might be used for the rodents. UG!

Feeling exhausted from a day of hard physical and mental labour, I went to the closing ceremony for the high school. Their last day of school was last week, and they are on summer vacation now until March. I didn't have much umf to go as the ceremony was supposed to start at 6 and when I arrived with my host sister nothing was set up and about 3 people were wondering around waiting. We helped lug chairs and what-not into the building and the ceremony started around 9. I was exhausted and not interested in listening to a long-winded graduation ceremony. But, my face needed to be there. I needed to show my support to these kids and their teachers.

Towards the end of the ceremony they handed out special certificates to the student in each grade who had the highest and second highest grade point. Half asleep, I start to notice with the first couple classes the kids that are going up there are the kids I work with on their homework every night. Another class' caum laudes are called up and two more of my students walk across the small stage. Every one of my students was the top of their class. I am sure this is a combination of them being motivated to learn and that is why they come to me in the first place, and the actual help the received from me, but boy did it feel good. This was an opportunity for me to see that the kids I am working with are accomplishing and there is always potential for more.

This little nugget of pride was like a massage at the end of a rough day. Seeing their smiling faces with their diplomas wiped away the frustration in my body and sent me to bed relaxed and looking forward to tomorrow.

20 Diciembre2010

It is four days until Christmas.

A beautiful rain came over the canyon today and feeds next year’s harvest. It appears that the holidays with bring the gift of rain to our dry soils.

It certainly doesn’t feel like Christmas. It isn’t like we have the money to go shopping in the malls, nor do you hear blaring Christmas music everywhere you go. I have talked to some of the other volunteers about it. Some are going home for the holidays. A few don’t miss anything about it. But, for the most part, it just doesn’t feel like we are missing anything. We are so far away (figuratively more than physically) that it doesn’t really even register that it is the holiday season in The States. I mean, we know, but we can’t feel it. At all.

One volunteer called me the other day upset because the family put up a single strand of Christmas lights. With this notion she realized that Christmas was coming, and the pittifulness of the attempt to decorate made her sad for a few reasons. Sad for the culture we live in and there inability to go above and beyond as the Western way requires. Sad to be so far from family and friends. Sad to be impotent in providing a solution for either of the above mentioned. We want to be able to buy every girl and boy in our town a doll, every mother a new dress, ever father a new pair of shoes, and 10 strands of lights for each family for their Christmas celebration. But, we can’t. We want to be able to fly ourselves home for the holidays, even if it is just for a few days so that we can be a part of the gatherings. It aches to be so powerless.

I was fortunate enough to be in Arequipa attending meetings a few weeks ago when Cesar’s mother was decorating the house. She kindly invited me to partake, and Cesar kindly put on all the Christmas songs in English he could find on the internet to help me feel at home. As his mother cooed over every decoration we pulled out of the single box that contained the house’s decorations I felt at home. While I don’t know these decorations, I could see my brother and I doing the same with our own. The glass nativity scene that used to be my grandmother’s, the fabric tree calendar that counts down the days until Christmas my brother and I fought over when we were little, and that ornament that I love that is a cheese house with a tiny little mouse inside hanging his decorations. It is funny the things you long for. It is also funny the things you don’t.

Our Christmas decorations are littered with nutcrackers, claras, rat kings, snow queens, and sugar plumb fairies. I couldn’t miss them less. Funny, it wasn’t until I was thinking about Christmas decorations that the idea that I am not in a Nutcracker phased my mind. While my stomach continues to flip (and probably will for the rest of my life) every time I think about ballet, now, I am at peace with it. I can watch a talented ballerina and adore the art again instead of wanting to strangle the life out of her.

While serving in the Peace Corps and living so far out has pulled me away from so much that I love, it has also pulled me away from pain. Peace Corps has given me a place, a belonging. It has surrounded me with possibility and passion. While people tell me they couldn’t do what I do, I can honestly tell them, “I couldn’t do what you do. This is right for me. This is where I fit.” Their ‘couldn’t’ referring to the conditional, my ‘couldn’t’ referring to the past tense.

This holiday season all I can do is give thanks, over and over. To have people I love all over the world and to have been kept safe in all my journeys.

To all my nearest (even those not-so-near

18 Diciembre 2010

When the calf was born she was carried to a corral near the house with her mother. If she was left in the field where she was born, it is likely a wolf would eat her. However, the corral is dirt, and has no food for the mother cow to eat. It is day three and we are out of corn husks to feed the mother, so she needs to be walked to pasture. The dilemma is that the calf is not yet strong enough to make the trek down the canyon where her mother needs to graze. The solution? Leave the baby iun the corral for the day and escort the mother cow to the field an dback. As you can imagine this would be very challenging as the mother cow weighs a ton, has horns, and will not want to part with her baby. As the baby cow lets me pet her, my job was to wrap my arms around her tiny\huge body and keep her calm while her mother was taken to get food. Now let´s see. A 60-year old woman, 13 year-old girl, and my inexperienced self cs. mama cow. There was really no competition. I was only abke to hold the flaling alf for a matter of seconds and mama cow would have none of it.
To be honest, I have never really likied mama cow. She has been moody since I met her, and I coudln´t get on her good side, so I just tend to leave her be. I prefer getting kisses from Hercules, the bulls, when I am in the corral. I thought, perhaps she was just boody because she was pregnant, but now I realize eh is just a brat. Milking her is like a video game in the attempt to keep the milk from being spilt while at the same time avoiding being kicked in the face with her moody hoof.
So since we couldn´tget mama gow to the field, we had to bring the field to mama cow. My host mother, sister, and I put on our hats, grabbed our scs, and headed to the most rich alfalfa field the family owns. It is dwn the canyon, close to the river.


I have to say, I thought I would hate it, but I love it. I felt like a human lawnmower. More efficient in a way because we can get to the very bas of the plany by hand and not wast any greener. As we sat on our knees, slicing away, listenng to the wind whistele through the canyon behind us I explained to Roxana how slave in the US used to wing when the worked in th fields. So, we traded songe. I would sing an old spiritual in exchanve for a Madrigalanian quechua melody. We went back and forth for hours. Singing, then translating the lyrics, then somtimes repeating. M host mom piped in a couple time with some really ancient quechua pieces I will ahve to record. She is such a fun-loving woman. She proudly sang each song then asked if I liked it. We had a couple mini dance parties in the field when we stretched our legs and bouned around a little to old ¨huatitis¨. We had more alfalfa thatn the donkes could carry back to town so Roxanna and I strapped stalks onto our backs with blankets. I ske dher how many weeks this would feed the cowsand she laughed at me, ¨two days¨.


I have to say the best part of the way was when one of the donkeys farted unusually loud and scared himself so mch that he took off running and Roxnna had to chase after him to calm him down and return him to the path back to the house.

17 Diciembre 2010

Two days ago the baby cow was born in the fields.
My host mother had come up to feed the bulls adb twi kuttke feet were sticking out of the mama cow.
The cute little thing has a white spot the shape of a heart on her forehead and I believe her name will come from that shape. Her skin is far too much for her little bons, and she wobbles around in an attempt to familiarize, strengthen, and have fun.
The exciting news now is FREE MILK!These first few days after the birth the mother will produce a milk like substance (in quechua called puq'o) that is thick and yellow like a milkshake. My hos tmother said she likes to turn this intoa a yogurt-like oatmeal with cinnamo and sugar. I boiled the crap out of it and mad an enzyme-less sweet cheese that we munchd with toasted and salted corn kernels. It reminded meo f kettel corn.
Te extra puq'o I boiled with quinoa, cinnamon, and sugar. I awnted to eat it with a spoon and chop up a mango to put on top but it was far too thin and sweet. Instead, w turned t into a quinoa tea and added anis and hot water. mmmm
Walking to milk the cow this morning something I can get used to doing daily.