Egghead

I have many quarrels with the Peruvian education system.  The one we’re going to explore today is the manner in which kids enter university.  Everything is based on one exam, high school grades and activities are not considered.  It’s like if every university had its own SAT, threw some SAT II material in there, and then based all of its admissions decisions on how well a student does on that harrowing test.  I think I’d be more likely to throw up on it out of anxiety than to pass.

This leads to obvious issues.  There is little incentive to apply oneself in high school since performance there isn’t considered afterward.  Students who aren’t skilled test takers are inherently hosed.  The tests are also expensive, and many can’t afford to re-take it if they don’t do well the first time.

One of the things I really love about my host family is that my mamita and papito encourage all of their 9 kids to pursue higher education and support them however than can in that endeavor.   The girls are encouraged and expected to achieve as much as the boys.  This isn’t the philosophy I would expect from parents who had nine kids, but if there’s two things the Peace Corps teaches you, they’re that your ideas about the world are fallacious and while it’s great to learn, it’s unlikely you actually know much of anything.

The kids range from 30’s to 13 years old. None have married yet and instead are focused on their careers and studies.  The more miraculous thing is that there aren’t any grandkids.  They are a singular and remarkable family.

My host brother Andy is 18 and had been adrift for the past year.  He didn’t pass the university exam right after high school and afterward spent his time listlessly studying to retake it and working for his dad.  After a few months of purgatory, he decided to really try again and enrolled in a test-prep course that the university offers.  He studied hard and took the test again the other day.

He arrived home after the exam and hid upstairs.  Normally, Andy is chatting everyone up and good-naturedly terrorizing the cat or his younger siblings.  Instead, he was quiet, sullen, and couldn’t eat.  The test results were posted online in the evening when we were all in the kitchen having tea.  My host sister scrolled through her smartphone and we waited the agonizing moments while the page loaded and she looked for her brother’s name.  After a long silence, she yelled, “Entró!” (He got in)

The whole family sprang up and pounced on Andy.  There was hollering and hugs all around.  My host mom cried because she was so proud and happy.  Andy cried from relief.  When the ruckus died down a bit, the hair cutting started.  This was a new cultural experience for me, but apparently to celebrate a success, you cut the succeeder’s hair and crack some eggs on their head if you’re feeling extra exuberant and proud.  This is poor Andy after everyone finished congratulating him. 

You may have thought the real reason I haven’t had any paradigm-shifting achievements here was due to the inherent difficulty of community development work or cultural differences.  Nope.  It’s because that’s what happens to you when you do something awesome.

Well done, Andy!  You’re going to be the best geologist ever!  

Digital Love

Before starting the Peace Corps, I heard a lot of stories about people who met their husbands or wives during their service.  I came into it with a sense of optimism and even packed a few pairs of nice underwear.  Maybe I wouldn’t meet my future spouse, but there were bound to lots of bearded, service-minded men to get to know. 

Was I ever wrong.  It hasn’t been just a dry spell.  I’m that lost legionnaire you see at the beginning of the movie, crawling through the desert, hallucinating oases.  First, the Peace Corps is female dominated, which is great for girl-power, but not so much for finding someone nice to make out with.  Second, I live in an isolated region and don’t get to mix with other volunteers.  Third, most of my daily male interactions make me want to either hide in my room or kick the guy in the face (which would be easy, because there’s a significant height differential). 

I gave up, at least for the short term.  The reasonable thing seemed to be to batten down the hatches on that part of my heart and ride it out.  I turned my sights on my return to Montana, planning to beguile and prey on first year grad students until I met someone I liked.

Then, a volunteer friend showed me her OkCupid profile.  There, beautiful men in San Francisco paraded before my eyes.  Men who could cook and had favorite books.  It was like this website was telling me that unicorns are real, and they’re just out there waiting to be oogled by me.  It was incredible.  Naturally, I couldn’t say no to this kind of high level entertainment, so I made my own profile for Missoula, writing the normal things like my favorite movies and foods and admitting my handicap of temporary residence 5,000 miles away.  My main goal was to check out hot guys from the comfort of my crappy internet café while Peruvian children play World of Warcraft around me.  If you’re not in the Peace Corps, that will seem really creepy and sad.  If you are, you will be on board with this excellent activity. 

Unfortunately, it quickly lost its luster.  Online dating involved a whole new set of social rules and expectations that I was unprepared for.  I didn’t actually want to chat up the 40 year old who has a moustache like my dad and spends his weekends on his 4x4, but what was I to do?  Ignore him?  That seems mean.  Just say I’m not interested?  A little heartless.  I’d get messages asking if I wanted to share a bottle of vodka that Saturday night or if I was into polyamory.  That’s how these dudes would lead off.  It started to seem like many of the men trying to date online were there for obvious reasons, so I quit. 

The thing is, during that brief window, I met someone.  I didn’t expect to find anyone I really liked, but he snuck up on me.  It was innocuous enough at first. He was handsome, thoughtful, and able to carry on a conversation without immediately offending me.  And it just kept going.  I started to look forward to his emails.  We’ve discussed thoughts on God and death, Relativity and reality, Ninja turtles and the best breakfast foods (runny egg yolk), and being continually outsmarted by our poorly behaved mutts.   I’ve found myself becoming prone to long fits of daydreaming with a stupid smile on my face and listening to a lot of Rufus Wainwright and Coldplay.  You know you’re not fully in control of your faculties if you’re drawn to Coldplay. 

Before I knew it, I was being inexorably sucked into the black hole of emotional vulnerability.  I really liked the man.  I had never tried to have a remote relationship, and had no idea how I’d keep interest going until January when I could actually meet him.  But, I’ve never been one to let good judgment get in the way of romance, so after the briefest periods of doubt, I said the hell with it and am giving it a real shot.  

I’ve decided that the pudgy little angel who represents love isn’t blind.  He’s just an ass.  I haven’t had a reasonable or convenient relationship in recent memory, so I see no reason to start now. 

The comforting thing is that he’s just as in it as I am.  We both smile like idiots when we Skype, greatly look forward to every communication, and have been reciprocally creeped on by each other’s families online.  It’s a little daunting to think of starting a relationship the moment I get back to America, but the reality is that it’s already begun and I rarely meet someone I really like.  I’m optimistic.  Instead of saying, “if we…then we could…”, we’re saying, “when we…”, which is a remarkable thing.  I feel really lucky to have this strange relationship with this wonderful man be a part of the end of my Peace Corps experience. 

Everyone loves a good romance story, so I’ll keep you posted. 

*Disclaimer:  Though it’s entertaining to complain, I actually met a few awesome fellows online that I’ve formed pen-pal relationships with.  They’ve become supportive and interesting friends and have even gone so far to mail me things way down here.  They’re great, and they read this (hey guys!), and I didn’t want them to get left out or lumped in with all the wackadoos out there.  

Vertical Garden

For the past several weeks, I've been working on a vertical garden in escuela San Francisco.  It's a small school with a concrete patio, so there isn't a lot of green stuff.  We decided to spruce it up by having each kid plant a flower in a plastic bottle and hang them all around.  Planting plants, recycling, and personal responsibility.  Bam!  

The kiddos brought a bottle and dirt and I helped them plant.

They had a great time, though they weren't super capable.  Luckily, they're cute enough for me to do anything for them.

Just look at them!  It's not even fair.

Little man, I just can't have you look at me like that.

I swear they had a good time.  You should know about Peruivan photo smiling habits by now.

Soon after, all the environment volunteers who arrived in 2012 came to visit my site and help out.

Some were very helpful, others just made it look good.

There was quite an audience.

This is the basic idea.  There are also bottles hanging from balconies.

The garden will be more impressive once the flowers have gotten a chance to fill out, so I'll share photos of the whole shebang in a month or so.  We're also planting 30 or so more with the preschoolers, so if you thought this was cute, just start bracing yourself now.  Maybe look up some photos of baby bunnies to build up your tolerance.