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.