No Nintendo

“No Nintendo” à No entiendo. 

Today was pretty great.  We were back at the Centro for training and the Associate Peace Corps Director for the environment program was there to talk with us individually.  I’ve heard mixed opinions about him.  One girl said she had a friend who told him she was interested in rain water and he put her in the desert.  Others say he’s very receptive to suggestions.  I guess I’ll just have to see.  He had read my resume and said that with my master’s program, environmental, and organic farm experience, I was perfect for a bunch of the positions he has.  I told him I was interested in learning Quechua, love the mountains, and do better in cold than hot.  He asked me about my concerns and I told him I’m working on my master’s and don’t want to have electricity and internet totally inaccessible, though it’s OK if it’s not at my site.  He wrote things down as I was talking and asked follow-up questions, so maybe he listens.  I’m pretty excited!  A rural mountainous spot with traditional culture and agriculture is just what I’ve been hoping for.  He told me that I’d likely go to the departments of Ancash or Junin.  Ancash is pretty epic with Huascaran, the highest peak in the Andes and lots of Quechua speaking towns.  I don’t know much about it, and less about Junin, but you can bet I’ll be researching as soon as I get my hands on some internet.  The director said that if he decides early which department I’ll be in, he’ll tell me. 

This is all very exciting.  Though I’m bracing myself for it to not to work out or not live up to my expectations.  There is the possibility that I’ll get placed in the desert along the coast.  Or it could be that I get to my dream community and nobody will listen to me or I can’t break into such an insular and conservative place.  We’ll see.  I’m going to remain optimistic and braced for change and work hard at whatever I get. 

After class, a bunch of us went running.  We found the Peruvian equivalent of a gated community that had beautiful trees, a wide sandy road, and big houses.  It was wonderful.  I feel bad for enjoying such an exclusive place that most Peruvians can’t enter, but it was so soso nice to not be yelled at, nearly run over, or chased by dogs.  I think we’re going to go there often.  I’m really happy to have a group to run and chat with.  It’s great to shake out our legs after sitting all day and get to know each other. 

Diego, the country director, warned me about the lack of comfort I could encounter at my site.  Being a dummy, I started going on about how I over-wintered in Idaho in a yurt in the woods and could take it.  I wonder what it will be like?  I expect cold and a potato-centric diet.  Probably loneliness.Maybe boredom.  I’ve never had to do without in my life.  I wonder what value I will take from the experience.  Is there inherent value in doing such a thing?  Billions of people are way worse off than I will be here.  I’m sure I can make it, I’m just having trouble anticipating the experience and trying to think about what I’ll get out of it.

La Hora Loca

Yesterday, I went to two Peruvian birthday parties.  One for a two and the other for 81 years.  Both were crazier than anything I’ve ever been to in the states.

The first was for a chica named Lupe who lives with PC couple Shannon and Kail.  She loves Minnie Mouse, so everything was decked out with Minnie decorations, a person in a Minnie costume, a huge cake and there were at least 50 people there.  They passed around sweets and a clown ran games for the kids and made me do a dance/lip sync competition with another PC fellow.  There is a video of it somewhere.  I’m hoping the connections here are too slow for it to make it to youtube.  Then there was the hora loca.  During that, club music plays, everyone gets crazy hats, whistles, masks, and balloons and you just go nuts.  The clown was really racy and humped most everybody and sprayed pink foam everywhere.  It’s like a rave ran into a kid’s party.  Ridiculous.

Then a bunch of us walked across town to the birthday of the Peruvian uncle of one of the other volunteers.  He had a traditional band and it was mostly his family and us 16 or so gringos.  Everything seemed like a normal adult party with beer and chatting until his hora loca got started.  This time, there were three clowns but with the same gear, music, and foam.  I can’t emphasize enough how fun it is.  Everyone in silly outfits getting down with clowns and 80 year olds.  It’s silly and joyful and everybody had a good time. 

I made the mistake of walking alone to the first party in a green wrap dress.  It was 5, so it was still light out and I was along the main road, but oh my, the catcalls.  One man leaned way out of his truck to make kissy faces at me.  The worst was when two busses full of soccer players went by.  I’ve never heard such a ruckus and you’d think they never saw a lady before.  I’m going to try extra hard to always walk in a group or with a guy.  Our hypothesis is that if a girl and guy are walking together, the assumption is that they’re dating and any propios can be grounds for retaliation from the guy.  It’s not my favorite, but being yelled at like that can be nerve-wracking when I’m alone. 

I think I’m over my awkward phase.  I had a really good time at the parties and am doing much better with talking to people like a normal human during training.  Thank goodness.  I’m making running buddies, figuring out who my neighbors are, and having a really good time getting to know everyone.  It’s really special that so many like-minded people can be gathered in one place. 

I’m much better with the food already.  At first when I got a huge lunch, I’d leave most of it because I didn’t want to eat that much.  Then when it was dinnertime and I got a few crackers, I was starving.  Now I know I have to eat that rice at lunch because not much else is coming later.  I’ve been asking for fruits and vegetables and Lilli is giving me more each day.  It’s not my American diet, but that’s not the idea anyway.  Here, I get delicious cherimoya, carambolas, atun, papaya, and all sorts of other fruits that are unavailable or gross in the U.S.  I’m cooking lunch for my family today.  We’re having salad with cheese, strawberries, and almonds and pulled chicken with tomato sauce and chapatis if I can make them.  I hope they like it. 

Some hours later

The meal was a success.  I`m not sure that Lilli liked it because she ate really slowly.  But I was really happy because Jose loved it and ate so much I thought he was going to pop.  He is such a cute little man and I’m glad I can give him something really healthy.  Now I`m working on their living room computer and they`re watching Titanic in Spanish.  Earlier today, I washed my clothes by hand for the first time.  I like that kind of manual work that you don`t have to think much about.  I scrubbed and listened to Watch the Throne and danced around a bit outside.  A good Sunday so far.

9/19

Today was the first real day at the Peace Corps center.  I thought my mami said she was going to pick me up and show me home.  I waited a while then ended up walking a bit with two other cooperantes, and eventually made it home.  It turns out that I have some basic life skills!  It was a 40 min or so walk and I look forward to taking it rather than riding the bus or combi. I was really proud that I can remember and be resourceful because I’ve only been in the area for two days.  I made friends with some street dogs on the way.  We also spotted some squirrel monkeys in somebody’s garden.  It was sad because they’re skinny and were clearly brought from the jungle and put there like living lawn ornaments.  But still, monkeys. 

I’m still trying to figure out the internet situation.  When I got home this evening, all of the family members except Yessica were in their rooms doing other things.  I thought it would be a good time to check my e-mail on their computer.  I had no sooner opened up gmail and saw all the folks I wanted to respond to when they all came out.  They formed a semi-circle around me like I was the TV.  That level of attention made me stop computing quickly.

There was a man waiting for the bus when we stopped to watch the monkeys.  I was walking with a girl who went to high school in Mexico and was floored by her conversation with him.  She was insightful and made jokes.  It reinforced to me that, at this point, I’m only interesting to Peruvians because of my foreignness.  I can hold a conversation in Spanish, but I have no wit and can’t express deeper thoughts and feelings very well.  I’m not very fun.  I hope my Americanness stays interesting long enough for my language skills to improve to a level where I can be more worth knowing as an individual.

I’m thinking that the food stash technique will be the way to go.  My family seems to eat little, but they’re not skinny, so I don’t know if I’m missing something or things have changed since I’ve arrived.  They have a regular lunch and they only a little something for dinner around 8.  For instance, today we had a small white roll with a tiny bit of chicken, a bunch of mayo, and a cup of coffee.  I eat it gratefully because I’m famished by then.  I bet they’d give me more food if I asked, but I suspect it would be more white rice or crackers with butter.  I’m trying to let go of my American sensibilities, but poco a poco for now.  Tomorrow, I’m going on the prowl for a bigger market and some peanut butter.  I told my mami that I would like more fruits and vegetables and this evening she came home with avocados and other fruits I’ve never seen before.  So it looks like she’s concerned about my preferences.  I don’t want to change too much about their family lifestyle, but I should be able to voice some things.  I’m trying to understand where that line is and be respectful and gracious while also ensuring I get some vitamins and poop every once in a while.

9/18/11

After a bombardment of introductions to the Peace Corps, I’ve moved in with my host family.  I almost said that I “finally” moved in with my family.  It’s only day 4.  Feeling completely unrooted makes the days pass slowly.  I’m excited to have a place to think of as home and build relationships with this family.  They seem really nice.  There’s the mom and dad Lilliana and Miguel.  A sixteen year old daughter, Yessica, and a nine year old son named Jose.  As soon as I sat down, Jose was talking my ear off and recounted the history of Peruvian colonization and independence and told me all about the Nazca lines.  He’s really smart and super cute.  Yessica helped me unpack, answered my dumb questions, and agreed to run with me at 5am tomorrow.  It feels like I’ve lucked out.  They’ve already introduced me to the most popular Peruvian seria (soap opera) and tonight we’re all going to Yessica’s dance recital.

We learned a bunch about the environmental program yesterday.  It turns out that the environmental volunteers have the most rugged sites.  Half of us will not be near other volunteers and several won’t have running water or electricity.  One of us will be the highest volunteer in all of the Peace Corps.  Abstractly, I’m intrigued by the remote sites.  I think I would be more dedicated and integrate better without any conveniences or much outside contact.  But the realities of being without water and electricity aren’t so hot.  I wonder how lonely I would be.  But we’ll just have to see!  This host family house has electricity, water (cold) all the time, and internet, so I’m hardly roughing it yet. 

I have to apologize in advance, but I forsee a good portion of this blog being dedicated to pooping.  I fear that, at least for a while, it will be either no poops or not being able to stop.  So far, it’s the former.  Spaghetti and potato meals and no running don’t make for a lot of intestinal progress. 

9:20 pm

My family took me out to the daughter’s dance recital.  It was great to explore and begin to form a sketch of the area in my mind.  We got in a sedan cab that had 7 passengers at one point.  It looks like you only pay one fare if your wife or child sits on your lap.  The driver talked on his cell phone, used the horn in lieu of the brake, and the car rattled with the bass of the reggaton playing.  My family kindly treated me like I’m completely incompetent; checking on me every few steps and holding my arm to cross the street.  It’s not to say that they’re not correct.  I almost got run over by a mototaxi (think a phone booth with greater mobility and a tinny horn), but in my defense, it snuck up behind me.   I had a really excellent time.  I’m excited to explore St. Eaulalia and it seems like my family is really happy to have me.  Tomorrow, the dad, son, and daughter are all waking up at 5 to run with me. 

This area is beautiful and rugged.  The houses are built into steep hills.  They call this the foothills of the Andes, but these hills make the mountains right around Missoula seem little and tame.

I think these blog posts will come in chunks since I can’t access the internet every day.  I hope big influxes of text won’t turn folks off. 

Everyone has dogs on their roofs to watch for strangers.  Here are the little ones on the roof across the street.

There are also tons of dogs in the street.  Some are really sweet and others need rocks thrown at them so they don´t bite me.

I’m going to have to figure out the food situation.  It seems like lunch may be their main meal and dinner is just a snack.  Around 5 before going to the recital, we sat down for crackers with butter and jam and an Ovaltine-like drink called Milo.  I didn’t have much because I assumed it was like cafecita and we’d have dinner when we came home.  Then we got back and they were like, “well, goodnight!”  Maybe I should keep a stash of peanut butter and fruit.

On the other side, I’m more concerned than I’d like to admit about gaining weight while I’m here.  After working on the farm and living in my mom’s Weight Watcher’s household, I feel really good and self-confident with where I am and would be pretty chagrined to get portly.  I know that I need to forgo vanity and my American preferences for service and cultural sensitivity, but I’m pretty sure people should eat some fruits and vegetables.  It’s still way too early to be having these frets and making these judgments, I’d just really like a salad.

Speaking Spanish again is interesting.  I’m trying so hard to not sound like an idiot that I forget basic words or stumble and think of the correct thing to say immediately after I’ve said it.  For instance, I forgot oil (aciete) for the longest time and earlier asked, “ellosgano?” (ganaron).  I know it’sganaron.  I hope my fluidity will come back.  My family has been really great about enunciating and speaking while facing me.  Hopefully I can make things easier for them soon. 

I’m having a really good time.  I think the constant waves of novelty have kept me from being homesick.  I can see it coming in the future, though.  I’m excited to start training tomorrow.  The big group was half health volunteers and they are training at a different campus.  It’s a shame that we are split, but the smaller group will be easier for me to handle and I think we’ll build relationships faster.  My host mom is taking me on the bus to training tomorrow, packing my lunch for me, and picking me up.  My life is like kindergarten in more ways than one. 

9/17

At the retreat center.  One girl led a bellydancing class and it was really silly and enjoyable.  It’s the first time I’ve moved my body around in a while.  The downside was that there are these horrible tiny bastards of biting flies out.  Check out what happened to my legs.  They were even clever enough to fly up my dress and get to the more tender parts of my thighs.  It ended up being bellydancing sprinkled with spastic flailing and self-flagellation. 

9/16

In flight without internet, typing to post later.  I’m finally on the plane to Lima.  I’ve been waiting and working toward this for almost a year.  It’s funny to think about where I was when I first arrived in Montana; crying because I missed Idaho, not knowing anyone, worried that grad school would be too difficult, feeling opposed to the Peace Corps, and still not really enjoying beer.  And then, I had the most content and enriching year of my life so far.  I learned a lot, found some direction, made remarkable friends, participated in ample outside frolicking, and  enjoyed many a Coldsmoke and Summer Honey.  I keep telling myself that this Peace Corps experience has the potential to be just the same. 

It’s only day two and it feels like I’ve been at this a while.  Staging was a vortex of logistics and icebreaker activities.  It’s difficult for me to be around 61 strangers all the time.  I’m excited for when we’ll have built friendships, but right now we’re recycling the same get-to-know-you information.  Here’s the script I’ve had for the past 36 hours:

“Hi.  I like your hat/haircut/belt buckle/Toms.  My name’s Stasia, what’s yours?  No, Sta-sha.  Oh, don’t worry.  Where are you from?  Oh, I hear/think it’s lovely/busy/windy/buried in hipsters/sorry the Pirates are so bad.  What program are you in?  Community Environmental Management.  Nice to talk with you, too.  See you at/on the plane/bus/talk/trust falls activity.”

Admittedly, I’m not the easiest person to get to know.  I don’t know why my insides twist up to smother any amount of charm and turn my conversational tempo into something like a monkey on a drum set.  I’ve been trying hard to speak with everyone, invite myself into different circles that are standing around, and smile and relax.  The up side is that it should only get easier.

I’m ready to get started.  I want to meet my host family, start learning, and explore Lima. 

Two years feels daunting at the moment.  I know I’ll look back when I’m older and settled and think about how it was no time at all, but that’s not now.  It’s strange to make such a commitment when I know very little about what I’m committing to.  I’m pretty sure this will be awesome, it just needs to get rolling.

I’ve been thinking about my other friends who are going to the Peace Corps very soon.  I never expected I’d be the first to go and that one would be in Ethiopia.  I hope they start off well.  The Peace Corps seems to be nothing if not a variable experience.  I’m so interested to talk to them back in Missoula and find out how different we are.  And I’ll hopefully be able to talk with them in the in-between time, too.  I was thinking I’d send them sweaters with alpacas on them for their birthdays, but they’re going to a swampy jungle and a blazing desert.  I bet Bridget would get down on some pan flutes.  Maybe Mason would wear one of those giant hats. 

I think I just need to be patient and work hard and everything will coalesce.  I can’t wait to meet some Peruvians!  Tengo suerte. 

Como se llama?

The other-other official language in Peru:

http://llamafont.com/

The Beginning!

So, I've decided to keep a Peace Corps blog after much hemming and hawing.  My departure is looming in 6 days and I figure it's time to give up on willfulness and see the bigger picture.
I worried that keeping a blog would be narcissistic, but instead it can be a way for me to share with people who are interested.
I am reluctant to digitize my relationships any further than they are, but it's becoming a necessity as I move around making friends who, in turn, spread across different continents.
Do I really want to share so much with everyone I know and maybe people I don't?  What would be the harm in doing so?
Can I possibly not work with such a horrible pun?

I've been home in Philadelphia for over a month before departure to Peru.  It has been strange seeing all these people who have known me growing up after leaving Idaho and then Montana where nobody had known me more than a year.
After hearing I'm going into the Peace Corps, several folks have said, "wow that's so generous," or, "you're going to heaven."  It's such a funny thought for me, because I see it as a somewhat selfish move.  Sure, I'll be working hard and, with any luck, will be helping people.  But it feels more that I'm dropping all my commitments and relationships for two years to go on an adventure.  It's jarring for people in my life.  I don't have many responsibilities to people, and I suppose most of my future years will be caught up in being beholden to others.  I should relish this freedom while I'm in my 20's with this lack of structure and maturity to take care of myself.  But sometimes the individualism of American culture is questionable to me.  What gives me the right to take off for so long?  I haven't done anything to earn it.  Shouldn't I be helping my family and trying to improve my own community?
Am I looking for commitment?  I don't feel ready for a husband or children or to settle in one place.  I wonder what form that satisfying commitment will take.
I'm hopeful that living in Peru with give me other perspectives on individualism vs. duty to family and community.  Maybe I'll start to figure out where I want to land on that spectrum.

Yikes, I apologize for the heaviness of this first post.  I've been doing a good bit of navel-gazing leading up to departure.  I promise that later posts will be like, "OMG I saw soooo many monkeys today!"  Or, "I only pooped my pants three times this week!"  I don't know how often I'll want to write here, but I'm going to make an effort because I think I'll be happy to have it later and I'm certain that at least my mom will read it.