Muchness

My first-world time has ended and it seems appropriate to reflect, no?  It was strange to come back to America, to drive a car and flush toilet paper.  To have soft, good-smelling skin.  To be in a place where everyone has so much material everything.  Where there is an overwhelming selection of all natural hippie deodorants at Whole Foods.  Where something like Whole Foods even exists.  

It was wonderful.  There was more delicious and healthy food than I could possibly fit in my stomach.  I'd sing songs to my food as I prepared it.  Most of the lyrics were things like "goooat cheeese and wiiiiiinnneee."  I marveled at the hot shower, microwave, and washing machine.  I spent time exclusively with people I love and have known for years.  I felt so loved and grateful for all the wonderful folks in my life.  And there was some snow!

I got lots of questions from lots of people. Some were the usual, others were surprisingly insightful.  Most were centered on my lifestyle, which is what seems like the most difficult part to the majority of folks living in America.  It made me realize how little it contributes to the difficulties of the Peace Corps.  Humans are incredibly adaptable, you get used to anything.  It's not that hard to boil water, wash clothes by hand , and live without heat.  The hard parts are the work and loneliness.

I have to put in an incredible amount of energy and time for the tiniest scooch forward on my projects.  It's so much mental and physical work and dealing with cultural differences that make Peruvians seem unprofessional to American eyes. It's so hard, especially when you just want to help.  

I am also alone a lot.  There can be some sad times, but I have wonderful PC friends and my host family is the best, despite the occasional conflicts that any real family has.  

It was a blessing to go home and see everyone I love and who loves me.  Despite my complaining in my last post, I can't imagine anyone being richer.  Thank you everyone that took time to see me, talk with me on the phone, or Skype.  I had a great time, all the time.  Mom, Dad, Joz, Don, Casey, Lucho, Uncle Jim, Uncle Paul, Aunt Kristi, Aunt Mary, Dennis, Ryan, Heather, Charlotte, Betsy, Mason, Alex, Vickie, Jill, and anyone I've thoughtlessly forgotten at the moment, thank you for making my Christmas vacation better and giving me something to look forward to when I get home.

All The Single Ladies

It was nice out when I returned to Lima and I celebrated the bit of sun between snowy Philadelphia and the altipampa by blowing the dust off of some skirts and dresses.  I was also rudely thrust back into machismo.  It’s usually better in Lima, but I got a lot of unwanted attention.  I didn’t have much of a chance, being a triple-threat of a gringa, in non-dumpy clothes, with a body type that appeals to South Americans (butt implants are as popular here as boob implants are in America).  It’s mostly comments in passing or from moving vehicles, which deprives me of even a chance to shoot back a hairy eye ball.  It drives me crazy that these cowardly ass-clowns have power over me.  They influence what I wear and where I go.  They make me put my head down and feel uncomfortable.  It sucks.  I was happy that I was in a sunny city by the ocean, wearing something that I felt pretty in, and they partly soured it for me.  Nice dresses and mascara aren’t the foundation of self-confidence, but it’s a nice boost every now and again. 

                I remember posting similar complaining months ago.  I guess it’s something I won’t fully get used to or be able to ignore. 

                I was also having a little gloomy time because, when I went back to the states, EVERYONE was in a relationship.  While I was so happy to be with my friends and family, there was that little voice that enjoys raining on parades that said, “Sure, but do you have somebody to love, share your life, and make-out with?  No, you don’t.”  I hate that voice.  I know I’m 25 and probably don’t have to worry about dying alone, gnawed by cats, yet.  But while this next year will be fulfilling in friendships, exploring, and strange cultural experiences, it’s promising to be a romantic wasteland.  I’m sure I’ll find a nice man with a nice beard that I’ll like and make out with one day, it’s just not going to be right away. 

                It was a pleasant little boost to later be asked out by a Peruvian man in a non-needing-to-take-a-shower way.  I went out on my first date with a host country national!  Milestone!  He was sweet, educated, and an artist, but also unfortunately 38.  I’ll bet getter at estimating Peruvian ages one of these days.  I’m not going to call him again, but it was nice to have someone tell me how gorgeous my amber eyes were while I was eating a giant sandwich. 

                I’ve always been pretty level-headed and good at being single.  I think it’s the Peace Corps aloneness and general yuckiness of male attention that wears on a lady.  For now, I’ll channel extra love into my work, my abundance of friends in my home and adopted countries, my beautiful, ridiculous families, and try to learn to dance like Beyoncé.