A Quick Peak at the Day-to-Day

6.30.11

I am off this afternoon to our very first ever parents meeting in the library. Hooray. Progress. Or at least some remote kind of movement in some sort of direction. I hope I have sufficiently bribed my kids into making their moms come- if 15 or more moms show up, I’m opening the library an extra 3 hours for them on Friday. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: bribery works. I hope it comes through for me today.

The real purpose of this blog entry, however, is to share with you all a quick peak at the day-to-day drama, or complete lack thereof, that is my life here in Bolivar. For your reading pleasure, a short theatrical work sure to keep you on the edge of your seats:

The curtain opens to me chatting with a local woman outside of the municipality. A group of doctors and nurses has just arrived from Cajamarca to do a health campaign in Bolivar.

Liz: Hi, good afternoon.

Lady: Good afternoon, miss. Where are you coming from?

Liz: The elementary school.

Lady: Very good.

Liz: And how are you?

Lady: Here I am. Regular.

Liz: Very good. Very good.

Lady: Doctors have come from Cajamarca today.

Liz: Yes, I heard. What are they going to do here?

Lady: A campaign.

Liz: What kind of campaign?

Lady: A campaign, they’re going to do. What will it be?

Liz: Very good.

Lady: The sun burns, no?

Liz: It burns. But at night it’s cold now.

Lady: At night, it’s cold.

Liz: Yes.

Lady: They have come from Cajamarca, the doctors.

Liz: Yes. From Cajamarca.

Lady: Have you eaten lunch?

Liz: Yes.

Lady: Do you know how to cook?

Liz: Yes, I know how to cook.

Lady: But you didn’t know how before?

Liz: Yes, I knew.

Lady: You already knew.

Liz: I already knew.

Lady: Doctors and nurses have arrived. They’re going to clean teeth.

Liz: Oh very good. In the health post?

Lady: Who knows? In the health post, maybe. From Cajamarca, they’ve come.

Liz: Right….

And scene.

I’m not sure there’s even a good way to follow-up that masterpiece. And I surely can’t tell you how many times I have had an almost identical conversation during my almost full year here in Bolivar. All I can say is that while Bolivarianos aren’t the best conversationalists, at some point you do get used to it. Maybe not completely. But you get used to it. To the repetition, to the complete obviousness of almost every statement, to the frequent mention that I am an incompetent gringa which, in the eyes of many, I most definitely am.

But, asi es. That’s how it is. And somehow I continue plugging along into my 11^th month in site with more than a year in Peru under my belt. Happy, healthy, and always just on the verge of being productive.

Lots of love to you all!

Liz

My One Year Update

6.17.11

One year in Peru. Who could believe it. On June 10^th, last year, my family dropped me off at the Hilton, we had a good cry, and before we knew it, I was off. Flying to Peru with fifty-something strangers trying to finish one more Spanish lesson on Rosetta Stone before arriving. We arrived in Lima around midnight in a sleepy, excited haze wondering where we were going and when we’d be able to make a quick phone call home.

A whole year has passed and I’m happy to say I feel good here in Peru. My Spanish is better, though maybe a bit ghetto now thanks to my many campo friends. My host family is wonderful and welcoming as are so many friends I’ve met here and my site has, in many ways, become my home.

Life is good overall and work?...well I certainly have a lot of it at least. While I was home I promised I’d keep you all updated on my progress, as slow as it may be at times, so here goes- your very first Progress Note from Peace Corps Peru.

I’ll start with the ever-beloved library, La Biblioteca, Amigos del Libro. Since I arrived back in August, we have had many successes in the library beginning with our summer camp program and continuing today with “Ninos Creativos,” an afterschool program for elementary school students.

So far we have just under 40 kids registered for “Ninos Creativos” and have between 25 to 30 kids coming regularly to participate Mondays through Thursdays. When you keep in mind that there are just under 70 students in Bolivar’s entire elementary school, the numbers we are seeing are great. Some days nearly half of the elementary school is in the library reading, putting together puzzles, and drawing which is pretty incredible.

In the evenings, between 5-7pm, we’ve also begun opening up the library exclusively to high school students giving them their own time to do homework, play on the computers, or do arts and crafts. So far we have formed a small following of 5-10 first and second year high school students who come to play pick-up-stix, mancala, and Donkey Kong on the computer. I must admit that more than anything else, though, they come to make bracelets. The tiny colored beads I bought in Chiclayo were a HUGE hit and not terribly expensive. Advice for anyone trying to win over any group of teens: LOTS of beads, and LOTS of string. You’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.

While local kids and teens are pretty pumped about the library overall, local adults have been much harder to win over. Members of the actual library committee, for example, just haven’t shown the passion and interest that I had hoped they would. For that reason, committee meetings are infrequent and unproductive, fundraising activities are nonexistent, and adult volunteer support for me after school is rare. This has been a disappointment and real challenge for me but I am always hearing new suggestions and trying new things so I must hope that in the next year I will find the adult interest that I am looking for. That is the hope at least because in order to make the library a sustainable institution in the community, we definitely need adult help.

I am hoping that that adult support may come from local parents, rather than actual committee members. Slowly but surely, I have noticed that the energy and enthousiasm Bolivar’s children have for the library is reaching their parents. It’s as if it is starting to click that the services being provided in the library are really valuable. People are noticing that between 2-5pm there are no kids in the streets because they are in the library. They’re starting to get, I think, that doing art projects or doing group work, even just playing with friends with supervision, is a good thing. My new goal is to meet with the parents of the 25-30 devoted library-goers to ask THEM, “How do we keep this going?!?!?!” And, even more so, “How can you help?”

In the meantime, we will continue to fill the library with educational toys, art materials, and children’s books to keep our kids interested and eager to participate. Many many thanks to everyone who has made this possible! Your support is truly invaluable. I only hope that we can successfully continue fundraising right here in Bolivar, further involving the community in the advancement of the library.

While things move along in the library, my hardworking “tejedoras” continuing knitting and crocheting really beautiful pieces, eagerly asking for more materials and more work. During my time at home we sold about $1,100 in knit goods to friends and family like you. All of that money went either directly back to the women I work with or went toward buying more yarn for future projects.

My host family, Rosa and her two daughters, Pati and Cynthia, together made over 1,000 soles, or just under $300, a huge amount of money for them that has made it possible for them to remodel part of their home, putting in a staircase (instead of the ladder I fell down in December) and cementing what was a dirt floor downstairs. A thousand thank yous to everyone who bought one of their products. Once the heat cools down, I would love to see some pictures of you all in your ponchos and scarves. You can email those pictures to me at zavassallo@yahoo.

We continue searching for stores in Peru and back home where we can sell our products on a more regular basis. If you have any suggestions or contacts of possible venders for our goods, PLEASE contact me. We have 11 tejedoras eagerly knitting away here in Bolivar and there are many more women who have asked me for work. Making this a sustainble project before I leave next July could really change their lives. If you can help, please let me know J

In the meantime, we continue to take orders by email and are getting ready to participate in the Peace Corps Artisan Fair in November in the United States Embassy in Lima. Now we have Brian Lieberman working away too. We have officially purchased www.bolivarknits.com and soon we should have a website up and running, a development we are very excited about!

Well, I think that’s about it for now. This weekend marks the anniversary of Bolivar’s high school and I am off to enjoy the many festivities. They kicked things off this morning with a huge dance party of costumed high schoolers covered in paint singing and cheering in the park. Who knows what else is in store for the weekend…seems like that could be its own blog entry. Until then, thanks again for reading and for supporting the projects I’m working on here in Peru. I really couldn’t do any of it without you!

Besitos!

Liz

Heading Down the Hill

5.35.11

It’s a Wednesday evening and my head is spinning with the million TO DOs I have been scratching down all week. TO DO in the library, TO DO for my English classes, TO DO for my own sanity. And now that the sun has long set, the library is closed for the weekend, and tonight’s meeting was cancelled, it is what TO DO before I head down to Chiclayo tomorrow.

It’s a 4am bus tomorrow morning, which always gives me mixed emotions. For one thing, it just sucks to wake up at 3:15. And I find that the many things I hope to accomplish once I arrive in Chiclayo often keep me up worrying the night before an early trip down. On top of that there is the inevitable hungoverish feeling of getting to Chiclayo at 7am, already having been awake or in a hazy, uncomfortable sleep for the past 4 hours. There is forever the question of the hostel: will my room be ready right away so I can sleep until 9? Or will I have to huddle on the couch on the 2^nd floor common room and snooze there? Ah, the trials and tribulations of traveling before the sun comes up.

I have to tell you the truth, though, that I’ve never really had a problem waking up for the 4am bus. The excitement I usually feel about getting to Chiclayo to skype or shop or just eat a pizza usually gets me out bed and the need to get a good seat on the bus (second row back, beside the window) always gets me out the door. And once my painfully American backpack is tied up on the roof and I’m comfortably (sometimes) scrunched into my window seat, it’s smooth sailing from there.

Of course when I say “smooth” I mean that metaphorically. There is little I would describe as “smooth” about this trip. But it is surely one of the many wonders of living in Bolivar: a warm bus driving slowly through the early morning picking up familiar faces all the way down and piling them in almost without limit. About a month ago, I found myself halfway to Chiclayo with a policeman on my lap (there is only a minor Vassallo exageration in that statement) driving in a bus made to seat 17 but filled to the brim with 26 people inside and 4 more riding on the roof.

The radio, if you’re lucky, is usually bumping the usual Peruvian cumbia music, a happy go lucky kind of beat that I have come to love, but usually the sleepy passengers stay quiet for much of the trip. Except, of course, for the occasional “borracho” (drunk) who has been up drinking “canaso,” a bootleg sugar cane liquor, since the day before.

And there is a point when you eventually say, “alright get this large policeman off of me” or “please, let this drunk dude get off in the next town,” but, for at least the first 30 minutes, it is an adventure, as almost all things are here in Bolivar. It is part of a completely unique and always interesting experience that I feel so lucky to be having here in Peru.

Of course, I do still miss home. Like crazy, actually. It’s already been a month since I was there eating Ledo’s pizza on the couch with Laur, sitting on the steps of the Met with Megs and bombing through the 2-story Forever 21 at Montgomery Mall with Mols. Ah, that was the life. But I brought back to Peru so many wonderful memories with everyone, so many conversations and so much laughter. I feel lucky and blessed to have shared my trip home with all of you and appreciate so much your love and support.

I truly wish I could share every moment here with you all- from the crazy bus rides to the busy days in the library to the quiet Sundays when I do nothing but knit. But instead, just know that I am thinking of you always. Through every moment of it. And that in some way, you are all a part of this experience too.

So much love to everyone back home!

Liz

Falling in Love

3.25.11

It’s a rainy Friday afternoon in Bolivar, which means the streets are rivers of mud, the teachers are on their way to Chiclayo, and many families have left town to head to their homes in the caserios. I’ve been sitting at my desk for about an hour now, writing in my journal and settting some work goals for the next three weeks and I don’t think a single soul has walked past my window. Maybe one: an older women on her way back from the fields with mud up to her ankles and a big plastic bag over her head serving as a raincoat.

This past week I officially “cumplir”ed 7 months here in Bolivar and just about 10 months here in Peru. While it’s a far cry from my 27-month commitment, it’s the longest I’ve ever been out of the country. The longest I’ve ever been away from my house, my twin bed, and the fruit roll-ups I know are in the cupboard under the microwave.

It’s amazing to think I’ve lived here 7 months. I look around my bedroom here in Bolivar, full of photos and books and binders of my work, and am amazed at how much my own it is now. Thinking back to the first night I ever slept here, I remember there was just a matress filled with straw, two wool blankets, and an exceptionally disgusting-smelling pillow that I must attributte to my former sitemate Dave though he refused to admit it was his. Now, my room is home.

I’ve never thought of myself as a hardcore South America buff. Not like so many of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers here in Peru who majored in Latin American studies and adamantly told me that if they hadn’t been placed down here, they would have just stayed at home. I, on the other hand, have always kind of thought I left part of myself in Africa. Always assumed I’d return and in way less time than it’s taken me so far considering it’s been about 7 years since I finished my study abroad in South Africa. Still, I’ve always thought that was really where my heart is. Knew I’d have an amazing experience here in Peru but, deep down, figured it’d be difficult for South America to win over my heart.

Well, somewhere in between many itchy battles with big bugs, one hundred and one meals of rice and potatoes, and those town dances that keep everyone up dancing until four in the morning, I think it just may have happened. I may love Peru and I certainly love Bolivar.

My sitemate Dave left sometime in February and, at first, I was nervous about being alone here in site. Nervous I’d have no one to speak English with or to spend an evening watching episodes of Glee over a box of shitty red wine. In just about a month, though, I’ve realized that his departure has made me challenge myself again in the way I did when I first got here- making myself get out of the house, chatting in the park, and visiting friends in the evenings. And the more I visit, the more I chat, the more I just watch and listen, the more I understand how many people here have become very important to me. How many people I truly think I will know for the rest of my life.

I wrote to a friend recently and told her, I just can’t imagine leaving Bolivar and never seeing these people again. I can’t imagine leaving and never coming back and it’s true. For all of Bolivar’s many quirks and irritations, for its weaknesses and many faults, it is a place that I am coming to love. I think it did take Dave leaving for me to take the time on my own to realize that. It was a sort of epiphany, a realization that came to me all at once, one that I’m proud to be so aware of only 7 months into my service. It is official: I am happy here.

"Por la ventana? No lo creo."

22.2.11

It was just another Tuesday. Well maybe not ANY other Tuesday. I had just started up a Z-pack (thanks Dad) to ward off the oncoming illness I could feel growing in my achey ears and muscles. It was the same illness that was sure to ruin my coming weekend trip to Lima, a break from Peace Corps life and a glittering finale to my wildlly successful (don’t mean to brag but…) summer camp program in Bolivar’s library. Just two days to go and I was in temporary freedom land.

Needless to say I was taking no chances. So yes, today I popped the first two pills of the Z-pack I illegally (illegally?) stowed away in my suitcase when I left DC, took a nap, and powered through one of our last days of classes in the library.

Exhausted but certainly feeling better, I returned from a happily “tranquilo” day in the library, got our certificates and prizes ready for the awards ceremony on Thursday, and headed to the internet where I begged Lauren to help make me some Peace Corps business cards.

Since I hadn’t been feeling so hot the past few days, I had been avoiding lunch with the fam. “No tengo ganas de comer casi,” I told my host mom, Rosa and it wasn’t a lie necessarily. I didn’t feel the need to specificy that I didn’t have “ganas to comer” canned tuna and onions or mushy lentils and a deep fried egg. So, not feeling my best, I was stuck eating Ramen (thank you former sitemate Dave) and wheat toast (thank you Plaza Veia) in my bedroom.

Anyways, Rosa is always skeptical when I say I’m going to eat in my room or cook for myself. For some reason, there is always some disbelief… like maybe I’m lying and am actually starving myself instead of savoring peanut butter sandwhiches and the 100 calorie cheez-it packs that my mom sends me (thanks Mom!) which is, in fact, what I am doing. Either way this afternoon Rosa made sure to invite me up to drink a cup of tea and have some bread for dinner. I was down.

She called around 7:30 and I climbed up our rickety ladder ready for a little family bonding time. She’s been travelling to Chiclayo a lot lately to visit her daughters who are now studying in a university there so we’ve had much less quality time then usual. Add to that that I am actually quite busy in the library, not currently knitting anything (boo), and now sick and napping whenever I can, and now we’re practically strangers. So I subir-ed for a little hostmom-daughter bonding, ate my 2 rolls, drank my semi-warm tea and we chatted away.

Amidst chatter about God knows what…sometimes I’m not sure Rosa is evening listening to me…I spied on our stove a mouse crawling between a pan and a teapot. I, of course, semi-freaked out. Rosa, of course, pretended to be freaked out but obviously wasn’t. She’d put some poison down tomorrow, she said. And we chatted along.

A few minutes later there it was again, this time moseying around up there, in no rush to run and hide when Rosa approached the stove. I was near hysteria of course. (Ah, those hazy days of Rose Hugo and Rocky Walter seem so distant now, don’t they Heath…??) So once our little friend disappeared again, I had a final guzzle of my tea and decided to call it a night…or, more accurately, come down to my cozy little home away from home, where I know I carefully seal all of my food and never leave out rotting vegetables like a certain host mom I know, pop some popcorn, and watch the next episode of “Bethenny Getting Married” (Thank YOU, Dana!), a treat I allow myself every Tuesday night.

“Buenas Noches” were said and down I went, hurried into my room and flipped on the light to see- OH MY GOOOOOOD!! Yes, a mouse...not even a little baby mouse like was chilling in the stove upstairs. This one was pretty hefty…like me after 2 months of PC training in Peru. And no it wasn’t scurrying around on the floor where mice are SUPPOSED to be…where they were in the days of ORKNEY! Oh hell no. This mouse…okay let’s face it, it was a rat…was climbing in the shelves of the very handy “kitchenette”like piece of furniture handed down to me by my former PCVL and horrible romantic comedy buddy, Susan (thanks again Susan!).

When it heard my screaches it plopped its chubby little body down the back side of the shelves, jumped off my little green basket where I so carefully store fresh produce (NOT anymore) and hopped on to the floor never to be seen again…or not until later at least.

Now most of you know me and know that I’m not into animals. I don’t even like dogs…Megan Sanders if you keep posting pictures of dogs on your facebook page I might have to unfriend you. Ruth, one more holiday card with a picture of Penelope and I’m going to change my address…Bottom line, I don’t even think cute animals are cute. So please just imagine the level of tolerance I have for animals who are categorically NOT cute, animals who are actually revolting beasts that hide in the dark corners of your room only to ruin your Peace Corps experience. Exactly.

So I waited outside in a panic and called to Rosa for help. Let’s keep in mind that Rosa has helped me with more than one creature infestation in my six months here in Bolivar. Termites…there was Rosa. Fleas…there was Rosa. Bedbugs… I don’t even think she gets what these are but yes, there was Rosa. And yet again, this tiny, adorable 40-year-old woman who, with a proper “Devil Wears Prada” makeover, could look about my age, went to searching through my room for the rat while I called faulty Spanish directions from out the window.

After a quick once over Rosa decided it was gone. “Salio por la ventana,” she said. “He left through the window,” which I was completely not buying. Upon finally entering, I checked out my shelves and found to my complete and utter disgust that the rat had indeed been feasting on a tomato that I had left on my shelf with plans of passing on to Rosa anyway….If only I had given it to her before lunch as planned!!! There were big bites cut out of the tomato. I nearly barfed.

“You always have to keep your food closed,” my mom said. “Even in bags or boxes, they can eat their way through so you have to be careful.” Mary Ellen MacGeyver is the wisest of women and yet, sure that my neatly cemented room could stand up against any invader (besides those thousands of bugs I’ve been dealing with), I did not heed her warnings. I don’t know how it is possible but Mom is literally almost always right…Not always right, maybe. But at the very least, never wrong, right Mom?!?

Anyways, a half eaten tomato and a chubby rat siting was enough for me to admit aloud that no, I would not be sleeping in my bed tonight. Add to that a quick peek behind my bed which revealed that a little pile of black dots were not dead bugs but was rat droppings. OH the humanity. Rosa thought I was joking. I’ll sleep in the hammock, I thought or else visions of rats will be dancing in my head until Christmas Eve. ICK!!!

Rosa found my complete overeaction curious....Rosa’s favorite response to anything and everything I do: “Es curiosa, la Liz.” But she hadn’t lost faith. “We’ll get rat poison,” she said. “Right now?” I asked. “Vamos!” she said.

In a completely depressed fog of mouse doom, I followed Rosa up the street where we asked what appeared to be a completely random man sitting on the curb for some rat poison. Of course he had some for 1 sol, he said, so we followed him to his house where we found inside a huge store I had never even entered before where he apparently sold sandles, rubber boots, snacks, and, why wouldn’t he, rat poison.

We came back to the house where Rosa carefully mashed up the little pellet of rat poison and mixed it with the rice she had wanted to feed me for dinner. We left a pile of poisonous food on top of her stove and behind her stove and then made plans for my room.

“We’ll put your bed in the middle of the room,” she suggested, “and leave the food near your stove and in the corner of your room.” “Listo,” I said. So together we lifted my bed and placed it smack in the center of my room, leaving behind the Peace Corps issued bug net and bag of tejidos I keep stored underneath.

As soon as we put down the bed there was a rustling and out of the corner of my eye (Oh, how I wish I had gotten a better look just to make sure!) I saw my giant raton…yes, it’s giant now…spring from some shelves and dive through my window out into the wild.

“Salio!” I screamed. “Salio por la ventana!” Are moms just always right about everything? Oh ye of little faith. I was definitely not thinking that chubby little rat was making its way up and through my window but sure enough, there it went. We slammed the window shut and locked it and I breathed a sigh of relief. Not all is lost.

Carefully shaking every item that remained around the now visible pile of rat droppings, we hestitantly decided that the rat had, in fact, left the building. The open window was the culprit and, no doubt, the various food smells wafting from my room as I “approvechared” my newly obtained kitchen stove. Our final plate of poison food we left right outside my window where, if I’m not going completely crazy, I think I saw my little rat friend eating up outside my window while I typed away this entry.

Bottomline, I think it’s gone. Lordy, lordy, I hope it’s gone! That rat siting just about ruined a brand spanking new (to me, at least) episode of Bethenny. Not cool. Either way, the battle continues against the various creatures you run into out in the middle of nowheresville, Peru. If its not bugs in your bed, or chickens outside your door, sure enough, its mousies eating your tomatoes.

And it’s moments like these when I can say proudly, “So this is the Peace Corps.” And I’ll admit that here I have the luxury of watching new episodes of Glee on my laptop or making wheat pesto pasta for dinner. In Chiclayo, we all know, I drink more Starbucks than I ever did in the United States and spend many a’ happy afternoon in an overpriced homegoods store. Regardless, I gotta say that no matter what kind of icing you put on top, this really is the Peace Corps and ya know what? It isn’t always fun. But it surely is always an adventure.

A Peek Back at January

2.2.11

Amazingly enough I am well into the month of February busy with the “vacaciones utiles” or summer school/camp project I started last month in the library and looking ever forward to my visit home for Easter. Yes, it’s official. Almost immediately after our Project Design Training finishes up on April 14^th, I’ll be hopping on a plane and heading, oh you said it!, home.

Still a ways away, my future trip is keeping me motivated to get as much done in the coming months as possible so I can head out feeling most deserving of an Easter vacation abroad. In the meantime, I have new goals set for February, a library full of 30 kids excited about summer school, and a trip to Lima for the Peace Corps 50^th Anniversary Celebration in Lima on the horizon. But before I get to any of that, a quick look back at the month of January.

After saying a sad farewell to my parents and sisters, I entered the New Year with volunteer friends at Huanchaco, a beach right outside of Trujillo. The place was great. We stayed in a cozy hostel that was packed with travelers, volunteers, almost all foreigners and slept in tents in a yard outback. It was a night full of flip cup and card games followed by (obviously because this is Peru) fireworks on the beach.

I had a really good time and wasn’t missing my family quite as horribly as I’d expected but still something didn’t feel right. As soon as I got to Huanchaco even I felt that old anxiety- Heath knows what I’m talking about. That feeling tha tthere’s somewhere else I should be, doing something else entirely, something more. And there was of course.

I said goodbye to my friends and headed to Chiclayo where, after a day of crazy errand running, I hopped on the next bus (okay the only bus) back up to Bolivar with a huge “to do” list building and building in my mind. My community diagnostic presentation was under two weeks away thanks largely to Miryam, the Youth Development Program Specialist, who, due to a mysterious love of our library in Bolivar, had planned a huge staff trip to join me for the event.

So while most of my friends shrugged off their presentations and saved their reports on their laptops, never to be seen again, I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of almost every single one of my bosses. On their way were Marco, our Assistant Country Director, Lucia, our new Program Director of Youth Development, Miryam, our Program Specialist, Sandra, my Regional Coordinator, and Mike, my PCV Leader and former Bolivar volunteer. It would be quite a crew. I only hoped that I’d have at least as many community members present as I would Peace Corps staff. Either way there would be, at the very least, 6 people present (if I included myself) to witness me trip through my Spanish in an attempt to encourage the Bolivar community to participate in my future projects.

For two weeks I typed and typed, checked my grammar and filled in the many black I’d left over my first four months in site. As I finished up my paper, my presentation began falling into place. I would scribble my introduction or conclusion or a quick dinamica idea onto pink post-its when the worlds came to me while I read in my hammock. Once I was off to bed it was much worse. I barely slept those two weeks, all the time thinking of a new poster I should whip together or the plan for the library meeting that would follow the presentation.

Lucha, my favorite and the only, secretary in the municipality, helped me with the paperwork. Solications for the location in the municipal building and an invitation to the community, both written in a Spanish s formal it was almost nonsensical. Depite my nerves, I got the signature and seal of support from our toothless alcalde (mayor) and headed out into the community.

I began with the basic community leaders: regidores of the municipality, Lucha, health post staff, library committee members, and the ladies of PRONAMA, an adult literacy project. Still not sure if I even wanted anyone ot show up for this thing, I was tentative at first. But as my presentation came together and the staff visit was confirmed, I pushed myself, making generic invitations and going door to door.

I realized during this process how much being a Peace Corps volunteer in Bolivar (and maybe anywhere) is like running for mayor, asking for votes day in and day out. They see you coming and know you want something, know they’re nervous about what you’re going to ask of them. But all you want is their “support,” whatever that means, so you smile a big ccheesy smile and “descansar” with them in their living room, try to play down how long the event will be and ask please, please, please that they show up.

I never want to run for mayor- what a terrible existence- but I see that for 2 years that’s exactly what I’m going to do have to do, over and over again. Sell myself, my ideas and plans, form a solid fan-club that’ll work with me and, if all goes as planned, learn that they can work on their own too.

Anyways, it was a stressful two weeks that began 2011 and while I plugged away with my presentation, I tried hard to stick to my many many many New Year’s Resolutions- read more books, do more yoga, read the economist, keep in touch with friends, journal, blog, etc. etc. The list went on and on but I tried and kept working and on Thursday January 13^th, after a quick run-through of my presentation, and a lot of running around town in my black business casual dress (more for publicity than anything else) I was ready.

My visitors arrived in a dirzzle and I was terrified. With only about an hour until go-time we headed to the library to all get on the same page and came back to my house for a relatively awkward lunch. Somehow 2 o’clock just wouldn’t arrive and when, around quarter of, we finally headed over to the municipality it was locked of course…staff comes back at 2 en punto…or a little after. So we strolled around town puzzling over the zoo Universidad Alas Peruanas put in and discussing the ups and downs of a community diagnostic- surveys, focus groups, and all.

Finally at about 2:15 we returned to an open municipal building and got ready to wait. La hora Peruana is no myth, it is the law of the land engrained in daily life throughout Peru and possibly even more in Bolivar where progress, activity, just life in general, is slow, slow, slow. So Michael, the volunteer who actually built the library I work in today, helped ease my nerves as we patiently waited for newcomers until it was finally time.

They tell me the presentation went well though I saw, unmistakeably, more than one person sleep through parts. But we had almost 40 people present, almost a full house, and the posters and snacks were a hit.

When almost half of the listeners joined us in the library I was nervous, had a warped vision of what would happen from there. I gave my 10 or so minute schpeel and handed things over to Julio, our committee president, to do the rest. He essentially thanked the Peace Corps and unbeknownst to me, handed the meeting back over to me.

What happened from there is hard to explain though Miryam may have put it best when she said it was the weirdest meeting she’d ever been too…and she’s Peruvian.

There was a black and forth of thank yous and reasons why the library is such a good thing for the community followed, in the end, by the call for a new committee. They hemmed and hawed, few people (including myself) willing to speak up or take charge. Finally, as if she was sent from the heavens (turns out Miryam made her do it), Lucia stepped up, the sea parted, and progress was being made.

We voted to choose a new committee right then and there and then slowly selected five memebers who each accepted the position. 3 womend, 2 men including the second in command to our mayor. It was a good group, I thought. We voted on their respective positions, took a group pic, and signed the libro de actas. I left really excited and very very relieved.

My various bossess assured me I had done a great job and I sent them back down the hill feeling fantastic- so proud of myself for all my hard work, really optimistic for our new committee, and just completely content to have gotten through that landmark step in the two years of a volunteer.

From there I could only go on to bigger and better things and that night, I did. A bottle of wine and a move and a few extra hours to sleep in the next morning is how I celebrated. And when the afternoon rolled around, I hurried to the internet café and excitedly told my family how well it had gone and emailed thank youts to everyone who had helped out.

Overall, the presentation and all the hullaballoo that came with it, was a good thing and the perfect way to jumpstart the year and my service showing the community here thatn I am a professional with a plan who NEEDS their help. Tonight is our first committee meeting- I do hope I get that help I need. Only time will tell.

"To A Christmas We'll Never Forget..."

1.18.11

Another month has passed, along with a holiday season and a happy new year, and still, as Megan Stewart Sanders pointed out in her beautiful Christmas card, I “have been slacking a lot lately” on the blog scene. (Thanks Megan!) It is true though. Despite a December vow to get blogging and a New Year’s Resolution to do the same, I still have left you all hanging. So it’s time to play some catch up.

I guess I should start with the highly anticipated family visit to Peru. It went swimmingly! And let me tell you, the JW Marriott in Miraflores really is everything they say it is. Essentially it is America. I walked in like a bum off the street, exhausted from an overnight bus trip from Lima feeling dirty and dusty, the usual symptoms of a trip from Bolivar.

“Buenos dias,” I said, greeting the doorman and to my surprise he replied in English directing me to the front desk and then up to our gorgeous room that featured not only an ocean view but also a water filter for the whole building. There was clean tap water for your every need: teeth brushing, ice making in the ice machines, and even clean glasses of water. I was definitely out of my element.

As if I hadn’t seen food myself for months, I hurried up to the Executive Lounge where breakfast was being served. I was a kid in a candy shop. There were bags of earl gray tea, bagels with chive cream cheese, yogurt, granola, BACON, you name it. I enjoyed every bite regretting only that I hadn’t brought a larger purse to smuggle snacks back into my hotel room.

After breakfast I settled into our hotel room, hopped onto the web, and called my parents who were already safely landed in Miami where they awaited the arrival of my sisters, whom they found out later had accidentally booked themselves on 1^st class and were, at that very moment, flying in style to Miami. From there I started approvecharing that high speed internet and began downloading the Christmas spirit: A Charlie Brown Christmas, the Home Alone soundtrack, you name it, while I hung up the various assortment of holiday decorations I had collected over the last few months.

All day long I ran here and there buying stocking stuffers and strings of Christmas lights, wrapping up ponchos and sweaters and Peru 15 paraphenelia for everyone and, finally, enjoying the luxurious shower in our hotel room. By 7pm, I was ready to head out to the airport for the big arrival!

The airport was pretty packed on that Thursday night and I tried to calm my nerves knitting away at the scarf I was allegedly giving Dad for Christmas. When I saw Megs and Laur hurry in my direction, the tears just started a’flowing!!! I think back even know and just want to cry. Almost six months away from my sisters and best friends and here they were right in front of me! It was a completely amazing feeling, matched only by finally being able to sit down and chat away over a coke and a giant bag of sour patch kids.

My parents arrived soon after and again it was just an indescribable feeling to finally have them there with me. To finally be able to show them Peru! After some very excited greetings, a little disbelief, and assurances that I didn’t at all look like I had gained the almost 15 pounds I most certainly had gained, we were off. Ready for a week of adventures, for a Christmas abroad, and for hours and hours of time spent together.

It really was an amazing trip. I have to say that everything, aside for a barfing episode on my part before our flight to Chiclayo, a last minute run in with the airport authorities over the absence of my current passport (though Peace Corps assured me I would need only a photo ID…obviously UNtrue), and a near fainting spell on Meggies’ part, the trip really went without a hitch. We made it through the streets of Lima, onto Chiclayo, and even all the way up to Bolivar with not a scratch and even very few bug bites!

Christmas Eve we spent in the Plaza de Armas in Lima, where the holiday spirit and Catholic roots of the country were clear in every giant nativity scene and light display. We went to a Spanish mass in the main Cathedral and while the words were difficult for even me to understand, the spirit of the night was undeniable. At the end of mass crowds of women hurried to the rear of the church with 2, 3, even 4 baby Jesus’ brought from their nativity scenes at home. When the priest began blessing each and every baby Jesus, my mom couldn’t stop her tears and, while we made fun of her mercilessly afterward, I have to admit it really was an amazing thing to see.

Later that evening, over cups of red wine, we heard the unmistakeable bang of fireworks begin at 12 midnight. From our corner room, we watched the fireworks, set off from individual homes all over Lima it seemed, go on and on for an hour if not more. My mom and I watched together right until the end, long after my dad and sisters had retired to couch and their wine. My mom really was right: it was a memory we’ll have forever, one I’m really grateful for.

The trip itself was one wonderful memory and an unbelievable chance to finally show my family the many places I spend my time here in Peru. I showed them the hostel I stay in Chiclayo, the crowded bus I climb onto every time I want to leave or return to Bolivar, the cozy little room where I write these very blog entry, the giant raw space that is our community library, and the kitchen where I share so many meals of rice and potatoes with my host family.

And of course they got the chance to meet the people- especially the people of Bolivar. My host mother Rosa, whom they’ve heard so much about, the same Rosa who knit the sweater I gave my mom for Christmas. They met my host dad Chito who, thanks to the translating skills of my site mate Dave and me, got plenty across to my parents including the great honor of having visitors from North America in his home. My host sister Pati who immediately fell in love with her Christmas gift, a set of colored pencils, and stole the heart of my Dad who is always a sucker for a young artist. Cynthia, the oldest child of the family, who quietly took it all in and Edwin, the youngest and only boy, who immediately hid himself away to open up his pocket knife and, actually, never really came out again.

There were more people, lots of mud, and tons more crazy stories that I hear my Dad is telling left and right. Yes, there really was a big crate of chickens riding on the bus up to Bolivar with us. No, the chickens were not sitting in my Dad’s lap. Yes, Rosa did really bring up a live chicken that would, later that day, become our lunch. No, we were not forced to witness the chicken killing, nor did my Dad participate. The Vassallo exaggeration co-efficient is a time-honored tradition, so just try to read through the lines. The majority of the unbelievable, this time, actually is true.

Needless to say, all good things come to an end. So while Megs and Dad relaxed upstairs, Mom and Lu and I spent a couple last hours at the pool, trying to fit in every last conversation topic we hadn’t covered in the past week: boys, breakups, work, yoga, even the future arrangement of Meg and Laur’s apartment when I finally descend on NYC in the fall of 2012 (cross your fingers!). And later that day, after one last drink at the hotel and a quick chat at the airport about the books we’re reading and the date of my quickly approaching first visit home, they were off.

It makes me sad even now, almost a month later. It was a complete gift to get to share that week with them, too short definitely but a gift just the same. One that I truly enjoyed every second of, trying hard to appreciate every laugh and every hug and every silly joke we think is oh so funny. And once they had passed security, and I gave them one last wave goodbye, I took a taxi back to the hotel and tried to remind myself how lucky I was.

How selfish for me to feel sad when I should just feel completely grateful and blessed to have a family that just wants to share everything with each other! A family who would spend their Christmas holiday eating french fries and beer (the only two things my Dad really trusted eating) instead of the usual Morton’s steak and wedge salad. A family who didn’t mind receiving the little handmade presents I could afford instead of the mounds of designer clothes and accessories that usually end up underneath our Christmas tree. A family who flew all the way to Peru to spend a week talking and laughing and even sometimes crying with me.

And now with more than 7 months in Peru under my belt and almost 5 months as an offical Peace Corps volunteer, I am happy to have one holiday season under my belt. Excited to make more progress on my projects here in Bolivar. And already counting down to my first visit home for Easter. See you then everyone! Lots of love from Bolivar!