Paint It Blue and Green and White

International Wetlands Day is February 2nd.  Several weeks before that date, I proposed to the folks running summer school that we have a drawing contest and the winners paint a wetlands mural outside the school.  We did it, but it wasn't accomplished until the end of February with lots of running around, reminding, and a bit of begging.  Still, I'm happy with the result and the kids had a fun time.

This is what I painted to start with.  Lago Chinchaycocha!

Then kiddos came to paint wetlands animals.  Big kids and little kids, big and small animals.

We got really popular.





Here's the finished product.  I think it turned out great and am pretty excited that there's some sort of physical evidence that I've existed in my town. 

The Sweetest Thing

Some good things have happened to me recently! 

First, we got ducks for the house!  I love ducks!  They are so much better than chickens.  I love their waddle and the little conversational ducky noises they make.  Chickens are basically mini velociraptors. 

I’ve begun work on mural and world map projects we’re doing with the summer school kids.  To start, I had to go out and paint a white base on the wall outside the school.  The only time I had to do this was a Friday, market day, which means there would be lots of people in the plaza to see the gringa doing something strange.  I walked out with a paint bucket in my hand and dread in my heart.  I expected to be stared at, heckled, criticized, and asked the same questions over and over. 

It was actually great.  I was struggling to measure my rectangle, and a lady I often buy mangos from came over to help me.  All of my students came out to visit with me during recess.  I was having a hard time getting the paint bucket open, and one of the little girls ran to get her uncle who had a nearby stall in the market, and he came to help me.  Then, I was on tiptoe struggling to paint the top of the mural, and a man I’d never met before came over and offered me a ladder.

I spend a lot of time being exasperated with and having violent fantasies about Peruvians.  It was so great to have so many kind acts fall on me at once.  It’ll shore me up for lateness to meetings and catcalls. 

I know I’ve talked about how adorable Peruvian children are.  They’re ridiculous.  The other day, I went to visit the preschool classroom to do some drawings of the lake with them.  I knocked on the door and was greeted by a little guy.  He beckoned me down like he wanted to tell me a secret, then kissed me on the ear.  I would’ve fallen over if he did it again.  

A spontaneous ear kiss from a 4 year old made my whole day.  

Wherever I Go, You´ll Be With Me

During my service, I’ve often felt like my mind and body are not wholly my own. 

I was proved right this morning when I pooped some worms.

I called my PC doctor and he told me that they’re no big deal and I can take a pill to get rid of them.  He also said that the females exit at night to lay eggs, leaving the afflicted with an itchy butthole.  Thankfully, I’m not scratching my butt on trees like a bear yet. 

It’s almost Valentine’s Day and I don’t have someone special this year, but there is the possibility that hundreds of annelids are getting it on in my gut, so I can hope for some romance through osmosis.  

I hope you’re reading this with someone you love!  Happy Valentine’s Day! 

Raindrops Are Fallin On My Head

It’s easy to complain about the rainy season.  It’s miserable to be outside, sheep and their respective aggressive sheep dogs have descended into the valley, and it’s as grey and cold as the Doldrums.  But instead of descending into piles of wool and gloom, I’m going to rattle off some of the things about the rainy season I’m thankful for.

1. It’s also mango, avocado, and pomegranate season.  They are cheap, plentiful, delicious, and being eaten by the wheelbarrow full by me.

2.      Good snuggling weather.

3.       Awesome rainbows.

This is the view from my window.

Sometimes even double rainbows!  Wowza!

4.       Thunder-hail is a great excuse to put on fuzzy pants, make tea, and watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon.

Here is one of those in progress.

Sometimes we just sit and watch them.  I'd say it's better than TV, but my ideas about entertainment are pretty warped these days.

5.       I’m getting lots of reading done for my thesis.

6.      There’s less dust.

7.       Sometimes there are rivers where there had been roads, which keeps things interesting. 

8.    Mud is fun, so long as it's not in my bedsheets.

9.  Wildflower explosion.

10.   Snowy mountains.

11.   The rare sunny day is all the more glorious. 

12.   Whenever something is difficult, sad, or frustrating in the Peace Corps, I tell myself that I’m building character.  I’m going to have a veritable Giza pyramid of character by the time this is all over.

Particulates

Much like the rainwater I boil to drink, my mind has little bits and occasional bugs floating around in it that aren’t substantial enough to merit their own blog post.  However, my personal filter is dilapidated enough that I’ve decided to collect them here.

Entiendes? 

I’m working on my literature review for my thesis.  This is a direct quote from one of the articles:

“They also commonly exhibit umbric epipedons and argillic horizons.”

I know the author is talking about soil, but that’s as far as my understanding goes.

Despite the inscrutability of some of the things I read, I could almost be a biologist just for the vocab.  Words like anhydrobiosis (of water bears), ganglion, mycorhizzae, nodule, and rough endoplasmic reticulum are awesome to say and to approximately know what they mean. 

Hile

In Peru, it’s popular to name your kids after someone famous.  This is regardless of whether or not you really know why the name you picked is famous.  The closest American analogy I can make is getting a tattoo of Chinese symbols when you aren’t really sure what it means.  It’s something like strength or destiny, but who’s going to know the difference? 

The only good thing about the tattoo is that you’re only doing it to yourself.  Unfortunately, bad naming is inflicted on kids.  In my time, I’ve meet two teenagers named Stalin and Itler. 

Stasia: “Your friend is named Itler??  Do you know who Hitler was?”

Kid: “Yeah, wasn’t he a president of the United States?”

Sadly, nobody here knows the difference either.  At least Peruvians aren’t very good at growing mustaches.  

Dumb

It was straight foolishness to title a post "Golden Showers."  We all know what the internet is for:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKNnwLL991c

To each their own, but my blog has to be disappointing to many a Google searcher.


Filthy Stinking Volunteerses

I went to see The Hobbit when I was in Lima and enjoyed it more than I expected.  They could've billed it as a 3 hour movie on the marvels of dwarven facial hair, and I would've been in.  
I re-read the book a few months ago and really related to Bilbo as the reluctant adventurer.  I didn´t run out of my house without my hat or pocket-handkerchiefs, but I sometimes wonder what I´ve gotten myself into and what on earth is going on around me.

I figure the movie was filmed in New Zealand, but a lot of it looks just like Peru!  The mountains are like the Cordillera Blanca.  Rivendell with its trees and waterfalls is Amazonas.  Unfortunately, the part that looks like where I live is when everyone is being chased by wolf riding goblins, which I suppose is appropriate enough. If you´ve seen the movie, it´s like you´ve visited!

Sheep: Winning at Evolution

Most sierra volunteers get tired of sheep.  They are ubiquitous, sometimes noisy and smelly, not as cute as alpacas, cause traffic jams, stir up mud, and their poops are just the right size to stick in the treads of boots for later deposit on bedroom floors.  But, the biggest complaint is that they’re plain old dumb.

I’ve found another way of looking at it.  Sheep have made their way off the natural selection treadmill and are living the good life.  If a sheep could tell off a more glamorous and independent species, here would be its argument:

“I’m a sheep, and I am beyond being smart. Your big brain?  That just burns a lot of calories.  I have this human who does all that work for me.  I don’t have to look for food, evade predators, or write a master’s thesis.  To be a successful sheep, all I have to do is grow hair and hang out with my friends.”

Non-sheep, you just got burned.

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.