Monday, June 30, 2008

I´ve been in Peru for over a month





Life in Peru as a PCT (that’s Peace Corps lingo for Peace Corps Trainee) has had its charms. There is a redundancy and steadiness to my days; yet new twists are constantly being thrown into the mix. To explain, my schedule last week was pretty regular: wake up at 6:20, take a bucket bath (ever since I came down with a cold, my host mom has been heating water on the stove for me and has had it waiting for me when I get up), eat breakfast, take a crazy combi ride to the training center or another aspirante’s house for language class, end training around five, return home, have dinner/possibly use the internet, go to bed between 9:30 and 10:00. Somehow the regularity of it all still manages to yield to all kinds of adventures and life lessons.

Last Monday started off with a bang. The cobrador (the guy who collects the money on the combi) ripped me off. The trip from Yanacoto to the training center costs 50 cents. On this particular day, I only had 1 sol. These guys have tried to pull fast ones on me before so I asked 50 cents? He nodded, I handed over my money and then he said 70 cents and gave me 30 cents back. I politely said “Senor, I take the combi every day and I know it costs 50 cents.” He shook his head and moved on. So I mustered up some more courage and called after him “Senor, you owe me 20 more cents. I want my change back.” Still nothing. (For those of you who know me well, you probably realize how big a deal this is. I hate conflict, and I hate confronting people…but I especially hate being the victim of injustice) At this point, the woman sitting in front of me decided to get involved and shouted “Give the senorita back her money.” His wickedness ignored the woman. She lost it and went off on a rant about how he is bringing shame to Peru by ripping off the gringa, etc, etc. With my weak language skills, I tried to forcefully throw my two cents in every time the woman took a breath. All I could utter here and there was “thief,” “robber,” “I want my money back.” I didn’t get my money back, but I was proud of myself for putting up a good fight and standing up for myself…and you can bet that I have had exact change every time I’ve taken the combi since.

On Wednesday, I made my first trip to the mountains for a day trip. In true Peace Corps fashion, I wasn’t given any information about what I should do upon arrival. I think they like withholding stuff from us. 5 of us were driven to a quaint town called Callahuanca and left to our own devices for the day. We did some exploring and did a small community analysis, but to be quite frank, we really just enjoyed the warm sun and the beautiful view. This town is known for its trout farm, avocado, and chirimoya (a fruit that varies in size, is green on the outside, and white inside with large black seeds). You can bet I bought a kilo of chirimoyas and my share of avocados.

The following day I had my first youth group session with three other aspirantes. We are working at a retreat center for nuns where physically disabled children go to live while recuperating from corrective surgery. As with everything else I’ve done this far, things ran anything but smoothly or according to plan. It turns out that these kids have non-negotiable physical therapy every Thursday at the exact same time we are scheduled to have our sessions. Just as with all the other setbacks, our only option has been to roll with the punches, be accommodating and flexible. On this particular Thursday, the kids were able to participate for an hour. We decorated nametags together, had them interview each other, then present their friends to the rest of the group. Our main focus of the group is going to be self-esteem building/development of healthy lifestyles but the first day was meant mainly to start getting to know the kids while getting a feel for their abilities. I have never met a more outgoing and polite group. I am very excited to continue our sessions there.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Settling In



I have now been in Peru for two weeks. While I have managed (so far) to evade the dreaded gastrointestinal plagues, I did manage to contract a nasty cold. There has been much to adjust to and I’m sure the stress of it combined with an icy shower each morning and lack of sleep all contributed to my current condition. I shall persevere nevertheless.

In my last post I mentioned the dogs that howl all night long and the roosters who crow before daybreak. I adjusted to these small annoyances rather easily (in fact my host mom talked to the neighbors to tell them that her “daughter” couldn’t sleep because the rooster was always “singing”, and they told her not to worry, that they would be slitting its throat in short time! Ahh). It seems, however, that each night something new gets thrown into the mix. Friday night there was a drunken man singing and making merry outside our house into the wee hours. Saturday night there was a bash in the local blasting music until 3 am. Then in the morning there was an hour-long speech for Father’s day over the town’s loudspeaker and, yep, more music. What’s more, there is a house being built next door and the workers and their families are hanging outside our door from dusk til dawn. Ay Dios Mio.

Things aren’t all bad though. Saturday night I wandered around Chosica, a local urban center, with some other aspirantes. It was fun to act like a total gringa, speaking English all night, taking lots of photos, and eating pizza for dinner instead of more rice. I bought a charcoal pencil and eraser so I can start sketching again. Also, I am now the proud owner of a fire engine red guitar that my friend Salvador picked out at a music store in Lima called “Patty’s.” A few others bought guitars as well so we can all jam together. This time I’m really going to commit myself to mastering the art. Tonight I played until my fingers were raw. I’m really out of practice.

I experienced my first Peruvian mass on Sunday. It was a truly enjoyable experience. We sang to the accompaniment of an acoustic guitar rather than an organ and it was all very tranquilo. Unfortunately, the new friend that I made eclipsed the spiritual experience. A petite 8-year old girl named Lily sat next to me where she aped my every move. If I crossed my legs, she’d do the same. If I sang out of the hymnal, she’d point to the upcoming words for me with her other arm around my waist. If I stood up, she’d stand on her chair so she could be closer in height to me. We made a play date to do hair and play with dolls the following day….or so I thought. While I was in training Monday, Lily found out where I live and knocked on the door two times and asked some of the other aspirantes where she could find me. Turns out, she thought I would buy her and her friends dolls. I saw her with her parents that night and she gave me a big hug and broke off a piece of her twinkie for me. Could a sweet, charismatic 8-year-old girl possibly be trying to con me into buying her toys? I’m not quite sure, but she hasn’t knocked on my door since my host mother told her sternly that I had no intention of buying her a muneca. This afternoon I had another interaction with the youth from my town. 3 little girls came and sat next to me when I was reading. Like most of the other children I’ve met here, they shocked me with how gregarious they all were. This time, however, I was a bit more guarded. When they asked me to give them my bracelet and turtle earrings, I responded with an emphatic “No!”, and explained that as a Peace Corps volunteer, I did not have the means to provide them with jewelry…just in case they were under the impression that this gringa is a gringa who will fall for their charm and play Santa Claus. (Though they were all so cute and had I stuck around any longer, they might have had me…ahh there is much to get used to here. Poco a poco)

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Poco a Poco


Yes I’m alive; yes I have survived my first week with the Peace Corps...

The only word I can think of to describe my experience thus far is surreal. This past week has been so intense that it is difficult to discern what exactly I should be writing about. How could I possibly recount an experience that has (so far) been incredible on so many levels? I might list my activities over the last seven days, detail what I have learned, describe my array of emotions, or I could illustrate the new people that have come into my life and inspired me…yet nothing I write could possibly convey with any kind of accuracy just how extraordinary and absurd this week has been. And so, to those few who may be reading this blog, I beg that you pardon my lame attempt at informing you of what’s going on in my life until I have time to process and reflect a bit more.

Let me begin by saying that everything about this experience so far has felt “right”…like this is what I am meant to be doing. I have met 39 wonderful aspirantes (what they call Peace Corps trainees) who all have similar credos as myself. This is a group whose members come from diverse backgrounds across the United States; all have had unique life experiences; there is a mix of ages and gender…yet everyone has expressed a passion for grassroots development, giving of themselves, saving the world, making a difference, learning a new language, culture, and way of living, and having one grand adventure…namely, these are people that “give a damn,” people that I have been longing to meet.

During the next three months of training, I will be residing with a host family on a hillside pueblo called Yanacoto. Living conditions are modest, but by no means uncomfortable. While I feel at home here, there are several minor things to adjust to. Things that we take for granted in the United States, like tiles, carpets, toilets that have a toilet seat and flush, paved roads, cars, etc. are all considered luxuries. I am one of the fortunate ones in that I have a toilet seat; but the floors are made of cement, the roof of corrugated tin, and we don’t always have running water. Scruffy looking dogs, both stray and domestic, roam the streets and howl at all hours of the night. Some are kept on the roofs of houses. If they don’t wake me up, I can surely count on the detestable cockadoodledoo of the roosters to replace my alarm clock. And if all else, fails, there is always the ice cold shower to jolt me awake…sans water pressure so the process, as if not already excruciating enough, takes double the amount of time to complete. After my shower, I sit down with my host mom and 21-year-old brother for breakfast. A typical “desayuno” consists of a roll with jam, soupy oatmeal drank from a mug, and half an avocado. Que rico!

There is a common expression here that I love: “Poco a Poco.” It means little by little. Every time I get frustrated because my Spanish isn’t coming along fast enough, or I’m feeling overwhelmed by the tasks that lie ahead, my host mom gives me a half smile and wisely reassures me, “poco a poca.” It is difficult to have patience when one’s ability to communicate is stunted. Most of our dinners consist of me pointing to things and saying “Como se llama?” Or “Como se dice…?” If that doesn’t work we resort to charades and sound effects. It is a rather comical experience, although at the end of a long day of training, I am so exhausted that the thought of going home to participate in this bout is very daunting. While I have tested into the level required of me to begin service at the end of August, I feel very incompetent and lacking in my language skills. It is hard to have faith that I will be able to achieve any kind of fluency in just three months, but then again it is only my first week here. Growth takes time. Poco a Poco.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Like Sands through the Hour Glass..




Man, people sure are nice when they discover you're leaving for two years.  I think it is some kind of evil subconscious thing on the part of the "leavee" that makes the leaving part that much more difficult for the "leaver."  These past couple of weeks have been spent surrounded by good friends and my loving family. Last weekend in Boston was wonderful.  Friday night, Andrew and I had dinner in the north end with an amazing bottle of chianti, delicious food, and of course the obligatory cannoli from Modern Pastry.  Saturday evening was a bit rowdier-- filled with karaoke, scorpion bowls, mystery meat teriyaki, etc.  It was a celebration for the books.

Now, as the time to bid adieux looms closer, the mood in my house is a bit more somber.  I've been scrambling around doing last minute errands (one of which included seeing the new Indiana Jones movie...totally ridiculous but entertaining nevertheless), and trying to keep my mind from dwelling on worst case scenarios.  Somehow packing has not managed to get itself onto the to-do list just yet but alas, there's still a day remaining.  I don't know what I would do without my mom keeping me on track with the rest of the stuff.



By the way, I was really proud of my dad tonight.  We went out for sushi for some father-daughter mushy bonding time and my dad had an open mind and helped me indulge in all the wild and crazy maki rolls I could eat.