Happy Holidays from Peru!

12.7.10

So I, first of all, must admit that I have dropped the ball. That’s right, my blog has been seriously neglected lately so I’d like to publicly commit to keeping you people posted on my almost every move here in Peru. There’s stuff going on, I swear. And while individual days may not always be thrilling, the experience as a whole is always interesting.

Here I am back in Bolivar listening to the Frank Sinatra Christmas album and wondering if my termite swarm will come out again tonight. Not your usual holiday season, that is for sure but I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of the one, the only, Vassallo family for our very first Christmas abroad. That’s right, in a mere 16 days, I will be meeting my parents and sisters in Lima where after immediately enjoying a pizza hut pizza, we will enjoy each other’s company poolside at the Marriot before heading to Bolivar to see my site, visit my little home away from home, and meet the family of five that has taken me under their wing here in Peru. It should be a blast though I’m sure my mom and Megs are already a nervous wreck. (If you have the time, please call either to remind them not too worry so much! Thanks.)

It’ll be an unconventional Christmas but at least we’ll be together. I must admit that while I had a great time enjoying Thanksgiving with a ton of volunteers at the beach, I was definitely wishing I was enjoying mounds of mashed potatoes next to my fatass cousin Dana (I can call her that because she’s not actually fat) preparing for the Top Chef marathon on Bravo. Our own meal, however, thanks to one Kourtney Angle, was delicious.

There were mashed potatoes and salad and sweet potatoes and, only in Peru, pollo a la brasa. While, to my mom’s disbelief, there are turkeys in this country, we, instead, enjoyed rotisserie chicken as our poultry of choice and I must say it was delicious. Apricots bars made by my favorite conoisseur of sweets, kate diaz, made the evening. The next day, I enjoyed spending black Friday on the beach instead of at Montgomery Mall. And while my sunburn set in I chatted away with the fam back in Meg and Laur’s apartment while they enjoyed some old fashioned NYC pizza.

When we recovered from our food hangovers and frantically tried to finish our community diagnostics, we Youth Development volunteers headed out to the absolutely stunning, beatufiul beyond beautiful Ancash. There we met up for our Early In-Service Training, a rite of passage in the life of a PCV and a celebration of three months in site.

We spent a week in Ancash listening to each other’s every success and failure, brainstorming new projects and solutions, and planning for the future of our service and of our communities. It was a wonderful mix of “Oh shit, she’s done way more than I have!” and “Yes, I really do feel at home in site.” It’s so hard not to compare one site to the next, one project to the next or even one volunteer to the next. But if anything Early Ist reminded me just how different we each are. All of our sites, counterparts, and projects are going to be vastly different and so all we can do is be there for each other. I think I had forgotten about the many good friends I have all over Peru. A group movie night snuggled up on a couch in my Halloween pajama pants was a good reminder of that.

And with almost two wonderful weeks of Thanksgiving madness and IST fun behind me, I am back in Bolivar wondering about my next step. Like I wrote in an email earlier today, I am torn about that step. With Christmas quickly approaching, one part of me wants to listen to Christmas carols all day long while I wrap up the various trinkets I’ve collected for my family in the past six months. Another part of me, however, knows that I have tons of work to do. In just another three months we’ll be back together for our PDM training and I want to be ready for it.

So hopefully this month I can do a little of everything: keep writing blog posts, keep channeling the Christmas spirit, and keep moving with my work in Bolivar. In the meantime, I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and are enjoying the crazy wonderfulness that is Christmas at home. Love you all! And Megs, Laur, Mom, and Dad—see you in 10 days! J

XOXO, Gossip Girl

Written on 10.20.10

So I think I just sprung into the 21^st Century- sitting in my room at a plastic table and stool stolen from the library, I realized that my ipod can play videos—not just any videos, but my much adored repeats of, you guessed it, Gossip Girl.

How did I not know that?, you may be wondering. (Well, Mom and Dad, you’re not wondering but everyone else is). Because I’m an asshole and somehow always manage to not know things like that, like how to take a video with my camera or how to post pics to facebook and then tag them.

Regardless, I could hardly contain myself while I strained to watch small but perfectly vivid images of Blake and Leighton traipsing around Manhattan in rompers I would no longer (for the time being) be caught dead in. Yes, it seems the mountains of starch and deep fried eggs have finally caught up with me. But I gotta tell ya, watching S and B bomb around town on that tiny little ipod screen made me a little nostalgic, yes, but mostly comforted that I’m not so far away after all.

So maybe I dodge donkeys and cow manure in the streets while Megs and Laur dodge high profile business men. Maybe I read Mario Vargas Llosa in a hammock made of fishing net while dad reads the same in the backyard between sips of a martini and puffs of a cigar. Either way, no matter how you do it, we’re all just getting through the day the best we can. Trying our best to, as Dad would put it, read more books, drink more wine, and keep in touch.

It’s really funny what little things help ease my various bouts of terrible homesickness, deep frustration, and desperate boredom. A reassuring email from my friend and yours, Kerri Magee, telling me it will get better. A hidden stash of twizzlers from Megs and Laur that has somehow lasted almost a month. An overpriced foursome of snackpacks I found hidden away next to the imported pretzels in Plaza Veia. Somehow these very silly things take me home again and sometimes, even better, remind me how very much I wanted to be here all along. Much more than I ever wanted to catch the most recent season of my favorite 10pm tele-dramas.

Anyway, just a little food for thought for my many (do I have 4 yet?) blog followers. Cuz ya never know what lessons you might learn from a shiny silver ipod.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

Mistake Making

10.28.10

Wow. It’s amazing to me that it’s been an entire month since I last posted a blog entry. I’m sorry to have left you all on such a sour note--that English class nonsense was quite the debaucle. But you’ll be happy to know that things have been moving along nicely since then. No run-ins with the aforementioned creepy English teacher and many more successes than frustrations.

I just celebrated my two-month anniversary here in Bolivar and am happy to have almost five months under my belt here in Peru. Yes, I’m still counting the weeks and months but every day the urge to cross out another day on my calendar fades just a little bit. And if an entire month without a blog entry means anything, it’s that I’ve been busy. Which is true.

The month of October has been filled with art classes with the second grade, typing classes with the second grade teacher, Monopoly with my host sister, and lots of knitting…and then re-knitting with my host mom, Rosa. Also this month I attended one college fair, one dental hygiene fair, two quincinera celebrations, and, somewhere in there, one round of karaoke in Chiclayo.

Things here are good. A little slow at times but definitely steady as I head into my official site visit next week from Youth Development’s Program Specialist and Volunteer Coordinator. I’m looking forward to their visit, eager to share my ideas and, excited for the beginning of a new month and the many possibilities it will bring because basically, while things here are good, I’m realizing that I need a jumpstart.

Peace Corps gives us three months to really get to know our community, to meet our host families, improve our Spanish, and write our Community Diagnostics. Somewhere along the way we are also supposed to have begun some “early win” projects, simple projects that volunteers have used again and again to quickly get involved in the community. I think I’ve done my share of early wins, tutoring in the preschool, teaching in the elementary school, typing away in the library, but I think I know deep down that I could be doing more. I know too that I’ll be happier here when I’m doing more.

It’s harder than I thought it would be to stay motivated. Especially because being motivated doesn’t just mean making sure you are waking up every morning, taking those cold showers, still speaking Spanish, and eating rice for the 12^th meal in a row. I think it’s supposed to mean that you are making sure you’re putting yourself out there again and again, risking something new every single day. And while I can acknowledge that it’s a risk just being here, I think I know deep down that I’m not putting myself out there the way I should be.

The other night Jorge Luis, a neighbor and a member of the Library Committee here, asked if I ever thought I’d end up somewhere like this. And I remembered that actually when I came to visit Bolivar during our week of Field Based Training, I got off the bus and said, “This is it. This is what I want in a site.” I saw so much potential for work, for projects, for continuing something really great that the past volunteers had gotten started. Yes, I did think, even hoped, that I’d end up somewhere like this.

I know a lot more now—more about Bolivar, more about just how hard these two years might be and why. But I still think that this is the site for me. I still think I have great ideas that have the potential to be realized here with the help of great people. I only have to get started.

I think so far my fears of falling short of my goals have kept me from really taking chances. I’m endlessly planning and brainstorming, always looking ahead to a better time to start a youth group or a toothbrushing project, in hopes of somehow creating a perfect two years here in Bolivar. And that idea of perfection is something I just need to let go of. Instead, these two years will be a series of trials and errors that need to begin now.

Being a volunteer here in Bolivar will be about taking risks. It will be all about making mistakes and realizing that with each mistake I am becoming a better volunteer. I will start where the doors are already open, where the obstacles seem small, the goals achievable. And I’ll remind myself that maybe, while I’m learning from my many mistakes in doing the do-able, doors will open to achieving what now seems impossible. I’ll start today.

Is there a young soldier at the window?

9.27.10

What is the best part of an almost completely non-English speaker teaching English to the entire high school population of Bolivar? So far, I think it must be the completely ridiculous examples that said teacher writes up on the board without at all thinking them ridiculous.

“Is there a young soldier at the window? Yes, there is. He is Carlos Sanchez.”

Yes, at long last I have finally visited the high school in Bolivar. Adamantly reminding people that I am a elementary/preschool teacher and like the little kids, I have somehow, for the past month, evaded Professor Amadeo’s pleas for help. That is, until just a few days ago.

I went with my guard up, wary that he might end up leaving me to teach his class for him. I hadn’t been given the best impression of the guy so was a little nervous to be working with him not to mention with the oh so intimidating high schoolers of Bolivar. I was very excited to find however that, first of all, the class was full of first year students still bright eyed and bushy tailed, so excited to have a gringa in their class, and very curious to hear about my two sisters who are even taller than I am! I found, second of all, that I could easily help with pronunciation without running the class itself.

Professor Amadeo put his ridiculous examples up on the board and then sat, listened, and even repeated along with the class as I went over pronunciation. It actually worked beautifully and, as I came back down from the high school my mind was already swimming with a new schedule I could arrange to make all the English classes, new ideas for increasing class participation and creativity, and new resources I could find in Chiclayo to keep the whole high school learning lots more English! I was so pleasantly surprised by the entire experience that I was actually feeling pretty eager to hike back up the hill tomorrow morning to help teach basketball.

I was also feeling really excited to begin tutoring Yampier, a five year old student who I noticed immediately upon visiting the preschool. A tiny version of a person, he sat at a table by himself and smoke in a mumbled Spanish I could barely understand. But I couldn’t help but realize that he was just a little dirtier than the other kids. He caused just a little more trouble. And he understood just a little less when it came to his classwork.

So what’s one mini-project I figured I could start right away and, possibly, give the other teachers a few pointers in the process? Tutor the class troublemaker.

I was eager to get started. It felt rather wonderful to have my box of Crayola washable markers (thank you, Mom! Who knew that Crayolas would be the best birthday present a 27 year old could ask for?!) and index cards out, preparing a lesson for Yampier. 1 sun. 2 flowers. 3 clouds…ah, to be cutting and pasting away at the miniature tables and chairs of KinderCare again. I guess this is the next best thing…coloring in five apples, figuring out how to say “we don’t hit our teachers” in Spanish, and allowing myself a little evening movie time. Things were really feeling good.

And things that first day with Yampier went very well. The next day, even better. A few temper tantrums made him storm out of the room but I rocked a couple Germaine Lawrence de-escalation techniques and he was back in the classroom with me coloring away in a matter of minutes each time.

My endeavors in the high school, however? Well, that’s a slightly different story. Last night I was sitting in my room reading when there was a knock at my door. I knew a whole class of high schoolers was getting ready for oral presentations in English and I was prepared to answer some pronunciation questions. I was even excited to go and watch the presentations this morning. But at my door I found the first year students I was visited earlier in the week and they were giggling away.

“We have to tell you something but we don’t want you to get mad,” they said, too embarrassed to even show their faces. “Okkayyyy,” I said. And waited quietly feigning patience while they passed on their message. “Professor Amadeo wants you to come back every week to help because he likes you.”

I shouldn’t really have been surprised. I found there to be something very creepy about him from the get-go but I was trying not to be judgmental, trying to get a good youth development project off the ground, and trying to be nice. And no, “he likes you” doesn’t sound like that big of a deal but it really upset me. Because, as they pounded into our heads during training, in Peru men and women aren’t really friends. If men and women spend time together they are or will one day be a couple. And I couldn’t want anything less while I’m here in Bolivar.

I told the giggling girls to tell the professor that if I was going to work in the high school, we could only be friends. Actually, that’s how they interpreted it but I really wanted to say something more forceful. Something more like, in a school setting talk like that was inappropriate and involving the students in the whole situation was completely unprofessional. I wanted to be mad but instead I was sad.

I came back into my room, sat on my bed, and cried. Mostly because I didn’t feel like I could go back now. At least not until I got some advice from some more experienced volunteers. I cried too because up until that point I had considered being the first female volunteer in Bolivar as a great strength. I’ve been welcomed by the women, the female students, old ladies, everyone. But here was why it’s a weakness. I’m sure Dave and Mike never had to wonder why a teacher asked for their help. Terrible to think Professor Amadeo asked for mine not because I’m a teacher, not even because I’m a native English speaker, but because I’m a single female.

It was just a terrible and embarrassing feeling to think that this is what he’s talking about with his 13 and 14-year-old students if not also his 16 and 17-year-old ones. A frustrating feeling to think that now I should avoid instead of enjoy the opportunity to help in the high school English classes. A defeating sort of feeling that being a girl makes such a difference. I haven’t entirely given up on working in the high school. I’m gonna wait it out and get a second opinion at least. But for now I’ll have to be content sticking with the little kids and their female teachers.

The Amazing Liz

9. 24. 10

Just yesterday I celebrated my one month anniversary in Bolivar. In honor of that very important day, I thought I would share with you all the novelty, before it wears off completely, of being the first female gringa volunteer in this little town.

Like I’ve said before, Bolivar has had three Peace Corps volunteers before me, all male. And I got the sense from the very start that most people were comfortable with the idea of an outsider. Everyone has something to say about at least one if not all three of the past volunteers and I truly have yet to hear a bad thing about any of them.

I also could see right away the excitement people, especially the women of the community, felt about a girl joining the ranks. - We know what gringos (those are the boys) can do but what about a gringa (that would be me, the girl)?!? – And at least for now, it seems I haven’t disappointed. I am, as the title reads, the Amazing Liz.

What does that mean exactly? It means that most everything I do, and don’t do for that matter, seems to shock and impress. The things I do differently from Bolivarianos cause lots of talk: Liz only drinks tea! And doesn’t drink it with sugar! Liz goes running! Liz is a teacher and speaks English! Liz doesn’t like when there are pig’s teeth in her soup! It’s interesting that the things I do the same as them cause just as much ruckus: Liz knows how to cook! Liz washes her own clothes! Liz is learning how to knit! Liz isn’t scared of getting lost in Chiclayo!

For a while there, I could do no wrong. Any answer to their million questions was the right answer…except when I had no idea what they were asking (an inherent challenge of the language barrier). Which brings me to my favorite questions I’ve been asked about the United States:

- Is there such a thing as cheating boyfriends in the United States?

- Are there black people in the United States?

- There are no poor people there, right?

- Do they all wear long skirts?...(No, I wear long skirts.)

- No one drinks soda?...(No, I don’t drink soda.)

- And my personal favorite and by far the most commonly asked question about the United States: Do people only eat canned food there?

The canned food thing I don’t get. Who told the entire country of Peru that we only eat out of cans? What do we eat out of cans besides tuna and smashed up tomatoes when mom’s making sauce?

Anyway, now that a month has passed here most of these questions are becoming less and less frequent. Now what do they ask me? “Ya estas acostumbrada? O todavia?”…Are you already accustomed to things here? Or not yet? It’s such a funny question. I’m trying, I’m working on it. But no, todavia. It’s hard getting used to being so far from home. It’s hard looking at pig ears hanging in my kitchen every morning. It’s hard to understand my host dad.

But overall, yes, the Amazing Liz is acostumbrandoing herself into the daily routine herc in Bolivar. I’m keeping busy visiting the schools, memorizing the names of a million little kids, eating lots of rice and fried eggs, watching volleyball with my host family, and now knitting a purple poncho. And slowly I’m turning from the Amazing Liz to just plain old Liz, which is surprisingly a very nice feeling.

Maria and La Reina

9. 22.10

I’ve been slacking on my blog updates, keeping notes of things I want to share but never actually writing the posts. It’s happened for a couple of reasons one being that I hate to sit in my room typing away when I should be out meeting people. Another being that some things are just hard to write about.

While I have my computer out and no real plans for the morning, I wanted to mention a home visit I made here not long after I arrived- one of those things that I think will be hard to write about it. I think the visit itself scared me or just bothered me so much at the time that I wasn’t sure I even wanted to share it. Now that three or four weeks have passed however, I still find myself lying in bed thinking about it so I figured I’d give it a shot.

It was a cool afternoon a couple of weeks ago. It had just finished raining, as it does often here in the afternoon, and I was out trekking in the mud with the town’s nurse, Maritza, one of a handful of good friends I’ve made in Bolivar so far. We were off to inquire about baking bread up the hill with one of the two families in Bolivar with a bread oven.

The woman with the oven, Erlinda, I think her name is, was easy to find. We yelled up to her house from the street and she seemed happy to invite me to bake bread with her the following day. She actually ended up flaking on me but that’s not what this story is about. At the time, I was excited about my bread-baking prospects, content to have plans to put in my date book, happy to be walking around town with a local instead of doing it alone. We were on our way back down when a woman named Maria, who had helped us find Erlinda in the first place, invited us in.

Maria is a round lady. Not pleasantly plump. Heavy. And well, kinda dirty. The kind of dirty that makes you uncomfortable when you’re not “accostumbrada” (accustomed) to it. She invited us in in a forceful, ‘you actually don’t have a choice,” kind of way. I let Martiza lead the way, happy to let her do most of the talking.

We walked first into a dark room lit only by the sun coming in through the front door. There on the floor lay a large mattress where an old lady slept soundly wrapped in wool blankets. On deeper into the home, we were invited to sit at a wooden table where the afternoon’s dirty dishes were piled high, small piles of rice and bones surrounded by buzzing flies. Across the dirt floor walked not only a kitten but also chickens, chicks, and ducks.

Water dripped from a faucet into a large cement sink which held more plates and bowls. On the ground around it were small plastic bags filled with trash, a bucket filled with orange peels, cracked egg shells, uneaten hunks of bread. When a kitten climbed up onto the table Maria whacked it to the floor with a force that surprised me. There was something about this whole visit that I found immediately unsettling.

Maria brought out tin mugs full of some desert that I hoped wouldn’t upset my stomach. I ate it slowly, in small bites. When Maria brought out a bowl of meat, I didn’t refuse but decided not to eat it if possible. I tried to be animated, chatting along with Maritza as she inquired about family, work, the upcoming fiestas in town. I followed along the best I could until Maria’s daughter who they call “La Reina” (the Queen) caught my attention.

In quiet mumbles she was asking for something of her mother. “You’re hungry? Want more food?” her mother said loudly in her direction. Maria scooped a bowl of rice piled high with chunks of fried pig. Chicharon. The girl said barely a word. She sat crouched on the bench next to her mother and shoved a brown piece of fatty pig into her mouth. She chewed loudly, smacking her lips, starely aimlessly in front of her.

La Reina is five years old. I’m used to a little younger but I know little kids. Little kids are curious. To me they’re enchanting, they catch your eye and get you smiling about everything and nothing. They ask silly questions and notice every detail. This little girl was so different from the many little kids I’d known. She did none of those things I’m so used to seeing in a five year old.

Instead, she gnawed at her pig and began to moan, quietly at first and then more loudly. So loudly that I wondered why no one else was reacting. Her mother didn’t seem to notice. Maria talked on and on, offering us food and suggesting that I teach a summer preschool program. But I could barely follow the Spanish I find difficult to understand anyway. I was lost in the sound of that moaning. Lost in the almost dead stare la Reina held while she chewed. The cat jumped on the table before her and, without a word, the girl swatted it forcefully, nearly threw it, to the floor just as her mother had done minutes before.

Eventually Maritza and I persuasively said we couldn’t eat another bite. Maria wrapped up our pig, urging us to come visit again soon. We assured her we would, left quickly and hurried down the hill back to the health post. I was glad it was over. And I haven’t been back. But I’ve seen Maria in town, seen her daughter in the preschool. And I can’t see her, la Reina, without thinking of that day, that moaning sound, the cat being tossed to the floor. I don’t like seeing either of them maybe because I know they’ll invite me in again.

There was something about that afternoon, that woman and the way she tended to her daughter like you might tend to a pet. Something animal in the way her daughter herself acted. The way she ate quickly, crouched up on that bench. The way she never spoke. The way she moaned, groaned, licked her lips and fingers. It was unsettling. At the time, I took deep breaths so the tears I could feel behind my eyes didn’t give away my obvious discomfort.

Now looking back on it I wonder where exactly youth development should begin. They say with the young people, with the adolescents, which makes sense to an extent. But what if you begin with the mothers? What if you could change the way parents talk to their children, discipline them, think about them? That child could feel the effects of those changes right into adolescence and long after. Even pass those changes onto their children. Like I’ve said before, I’m still a ways away from starting my own projects here but I can already tell how my day to day experiences are changing my plans, making them better and more realistic. It helps put my two years into perspective. With so much work to do, maybe it isn’t such a long time after all.

Bugs, Bugs, Bugs

9.19.10

Tomorrow I will officially have been a Peace Corps volunteer for one month. Pretty amazing. Overall, time has flown -I can’t believe I’ve been in Peru 31/2 months- though a few minor blips have made it difficult. The most major of those blips: my flea/bedbug scare last week.

Not sure if you can really call it a scare. They were definitely here…in my rug, in my bed and, I’m pretty sure, in a couple pairs of my pants. Which led me to bump up my Chiclayo visit and head down on Friday morning where I happily let my mom fill me in on the bedbug epidemic in the US and let her create a comprehensive plan of attack which, if you don’t know Mary Ellen well, is her forte.

I immediately felt better after talking to her though a few tears were shed about how gross the whole thing was and how difficult it was to face alone. You see, once I noticed the jumping fleas in my rug and, upon waking up the next morning, saw the multitude of tiny bites all over my body (Lord, is this gross) I decided to solve the problem myself.

First I cleared out my sheets, bedspread, rug, and many clothes from my room and threw them in a bucket of hot (thank you Dave for sharing your electric teapot) soapy water, scrubbed my floor and bedframe with bleachy and then headed back out to scrub by hand the buggiest items from my bedroom.

After a long day of clean sweeping, I headed upstairs for dinner with the fam. I was in a completely sour, disgruntled mood, tired from a whole day of cleaning and sure that the bugs were still hiding somewhere in my room. I quietly ate my bread and drank my tea. When my host-mom poured a hot bowl of pig head soup for my host-dad I tried not to notice. But when they scooped up half a pig jaw, molars still intact, offered it to me, and then laughed their heads off, I just couldn’t take it.

That might have been funny another day. Today it is more so. But that night it was just one more thing I couldn’t quite handle. So I came back down to a room smelling of bleach and layed down on the plastic of my completely stripped bed and thought, “Get me outta here.”

I went over to visit the nurse and she mace me feel much better. She too had had fleas in her bed when she first moved to Bolivar but she figured them out as, she assured me, I would too.

Together we decided I should head down to buy what I heard as “ReyMax” but ended up being “Raid.” Hehe. She even helped me reserve a spot on the bus…by walking down to the police station to find the big guy who drives the bus on Friday mornings.

Anyway, it was a good trip to Chiclayo though I felt the strain of having spent so much money my first trip down. (Yikes! $10 a day doesn’t get ya too far in the big city!) But now I am happily back in Bolivar feeling good, running everyday, and knitting a purple poncho. I’m feeling busy and, so far, bug free! I’ve flea sprayed everything, wrapped my mattress and pillow in plastic and tied up dirty clothes in plastic bags. So hopefully, thanks to the magical workings of my mom, my room should be relatively flea free for a while…I’ll keep ya posted.

My Morning Meltdown

8.29.10

Alright, I had a little moment this morning. Not sure what brought it on- my first Sunday in Bolivar, the cow intestines and noodle soup we had for breakfast, or the way the whole family hung around the kitchen table chatting after they’d finished their breakfast.

The oldest daughter, Cynthia, is home visiting from Chiclayo where she’s studying and I realized last night that it felt like our house! Cynthia sat in the kitchen eating every bite her mom gave her telling stories of school and homework, showing off her shiny textbooks. It seemed the whole family just wanted to be near her. We sat in the kitchen for hours last night each of them taking turns telling some silly story just as we might do at home, everyone eager to check out the many new pieces Laur has added to her wardrobe since our last meeting, excited to hear Meggsies’ many ups and downs at the H bomb.

I think more than anything sharing breakfast with them this morning, they reminded me of us!...All aimless on a Sunday morning, eating bagels or French toast and bacon long after we are full just because we’re not sure what else to do. I had visions of mom popping a coffee filter into the Keurig and serving me the tea of my choice. I really do miss home.

So when I got down to my room I just started to cry and knew that reading one of the many letters in my goodbye album might do me good. Of course, it did! Because my sisters are geniuses and found a way for me to get inspirational mail from the states whenever I want it!

I flipped through the pages and got hooked on the picture of Grandpa and me. Behind the photo I found a card with a girl dancing on the beach. When I saw that it was from Dad, I cried, knowing that it was just what I needed. And it was. The card made me feel all at once comfortable and safe (like I am at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning) and strong and tough and ready to get to work here in Peru.

Another thing it made me realize was that although it makes me sad to sit here eating noodle soup and think instinctively of very different Sundays at home, this is why I came! To see how other people live and the truth is, not everyone lives the way we do. It’s honestly amazing to even be able to see the parallels with my own life. It’s a gift that I have to appreciate while I’m here. So with that said, I’m off to do some more exploring.

Enjoy an extra bagel and cup of tea for me this Sunday morning!!!!! So much love.

Day four begins...

Backtracking to 8.27.10

I’m at the beginning of my fourth full day here in Bolivar and so far things here are wonderful. I am really really loving it. Now I know this feeling may pass seeing as four days is but a tiny fraction of the next two years but, for now, I am just totally thrilled to get things off to such a great start.

So what’s so great about it?, you may be asking. What’s helping me feel good here? What’s keeping me from sitting in my bed and watching “It’s Complicated” over and over again while I finish off the Tootsie Pops Auntie Lorraine sent me? Well, let’s see.

I have to admit that my bedroom is the first thing to come to mind. My bed is clean and cozy, my things are all neat and orderly and the few pictures and postcards I brought from home are wonderful reminders of family and friends but leave much room for new memories, family (adopted family, that is) and friends. I love it. I feel good in here- it’s private, comfortable, and is getting cleaner every day I’m here thanks to a little scrubbing and lots of sweeping. (…this place is WAY dustier than my room at home. Mom, I’ll never complain about dust again!)

Only drawback- the bathroom is outside and around the corner and, even more problematic, lacks soap, toilet paper, and, oh yes, a light. Interesting. That will take some getting used to but I’m hoping that can be a mini-project of mine- soap, toilet paper, and hand towel for drying. It is clearly worth the investment.

What else is good? My host mom. My entire host family actually- the brother and sister I’ve met so far are great. Not as young or pesado (annoying!) as my old host siblings but still young enough to be super intrigued by an American.

My host dad? Well, Chito is certainly no Joe Vassallo but Dave, my sitemate, seems to like him so I’m confident we’ll get along. He actually may turn out to be the male Peruvian version of Mary Ellen MacGeyver, constantly creating a new project for himself. While I’ve been here alone he has cemented part of the downstairs hallway, painted and repainted the living room, and completely rearranged the furniture in the entire house. That’s not even mentioning the pair of sandals he made last week (he used to be a shoemaker) or the constant and inexplicable sandpapering and hammering he does in the evenings while the family watches Jackie Chan movies.

My host mom, Rosa, is amazing. Michael had said that my family is great but will likely not help me with my Peace Corps projects. On the contrary, I think Rosa could be my most dedicated counterpart. I think she’s smart and talented without even realizing it. It would be so exciting to see her become a confident leader in Bolivar.

Women in general seem to have such a funny role here. They are responsible for a million things! Rosa milks the cow, feeds the pigs, cooks every single meal, cleans every piece of laundry, repairs her children’s clothes with her old-fashioned sewing machine, and still somehow finds time to make a little extra money crocheting blankets and ponchos. These women do so much and still, at the same time, take a clear backseat to the men of the household. When she hears her husband climbing up the ladder to our house, Rosa hurries to have a heaping serving of dinner on the table. She jumps to refill his plate of rice or cup of tea. And she drops what she’s doing to help him finish up a household project.

I’m not necessarily saying this is entirely different from gender roles in the United States. Many evenings my sisters and I have scrambled to clean up the living room when we hear the garage door opening for Dad. (“Shit, he’s home!”) It’s just something to think about especially when I start working with the younger girls in Bolivar. How do they see themselves and their futures? My dad has always made me feel like I could do or be anything I wanted. How do parents in Bolivar make their daughters feel? I will certainly have time to find out.

Spent much of the evening last night with Rosa and Lucy, the nurse that lives next door. Rosa taught me how to knit which, it seems, is my golden ticket into the inner circle of female life in Bolivar. We spent at least an hour crocheting, watching volleyball, and laughing- tons of laughing! They said I was happy and had lots of energy. I honestly think Rosa is ready to call me her own, which is great. I tried my best to explain in Spanish our “ladies who lunch” email chain (one of many that are keeping me sane in Peru) and they loved the idea. I said they were emails dedicated to chisme, or gossip, a staple of Peruvian society. For that reason, they told me, I will fit in well with them.

There is much more to say about why I’m happy here. The seeming abundance of potential projects, counterparts, and eager students I could find here, for example. But for now I should run. I’m heading to the nearby town of Nanchuk with my host dad and the mayor and don’t want to miss our ride. They told me we’d leave at 9am and since it’s 10:10 now I’d expect we’ll be leaving any minute now. Ah, la hora peruana. What they say is true: Life in Peru runs on its own unique and slow moving clock. Nothing for me to do but wait it out. Day 4 begins.

A Volunteer At Last!

9.1.10

Well, as most of you know by now, I am here! Here in Bolivar, getting to know my site, an official Peace Corps volunteer. Since it’s been ages since I’ve sat down and typed away my many many different thoughts and emotions, let me try to catch you up.

On August 16, (almost 3 weeks ago now!), we began our final week in Chaclacayo. It was a crazy few days. A funny mix of busy work, long unfinishable to-do lists, impatience with my constantly screaming host mother, and a severe lack of sleep. An emotional roller coaster to say the least that happily ended with one last excursion to karaoke as trainees, a goodbye party for our host families, and on Friday the 20^th, our departure for Lima.

After completely clearing out my bedroom in Chaclayo and lugging it to the training center Friday morning, I returned for one more lunch with my host family. Papas rellenas, my host mom said she would make, to celebrate the occasion. Unsurprisingly enough, when I got home for lunch Susana had only just began cooking. She had another extra twenty minutes while I got dolled up for our big swearing in ceremony so I had hope that some kind of food would materialize before we said our goodbyes. Sadly, I emerged from my room in my favorite maxi dress (I don’t care what Michael Kors says, they’ll always be in in my mind.) and asked politely if lunch was ready. Susana’s answer: “No! What are you going to eat!!” Long story longer I ended up spending my last few minutes in the Salvatierra household scarffing down a giant plate of rice topped with a deeply fried egg. Why I would have expected or wanted anything less I’m not sure.

Off to the embassy we drove in two giant buses. The building itself was impressive, the second biggest in the world I hear. Gigantic. A complete departure from its Peruvian surroundings with grass out front, tons of security, and, possibly the best part, toilets strong enough to flush down your toilet paper.

The ceremony was short, sweet, and in many ways, anticlimactic. Yes! We’re volunteers! Now what?...Well, from there they dropped us off at two hostels in a kinda swanky part of Lima where we were to fend for ourselves until the next evening when the overnight buses would whisk us away to our regional capitals. We enjoyed the night by spending some of the cash burning holes in our pockets at TGIFridays…I recommend the chicken quesadillas. Just like home. Then we were off for a long night of discotequing and, in the morning, some tearful goodbyes to now very good friends.

I slept pretty soundly on my overnight bus and woke up in Chiclayo, my new regional capital. There we met a number of volunteers already working in our region who very kindly brought us bagels (You guys probably don’t realize but there are no bagels in Peru so this was a coup. A volunteer made them in her neighbor’s bread oven.) and cooked us tacos for lunch.

I myself bought some bedding, a giant purple towel, and a mattress and spent the day writing postcards, chatting with the fam on skype, and deciding exactly how I felt about heading up to Bolivar.

After tons of help from Mike, the volunteer I’m replacing (If by some chance you are reading this, thank you, thank you!) and Jenny (Thank you, thank you!) a volunteer who lives about an hour from me, I hoisted all of my belongings on top of the only bus heading to Bolivar that Monday, the 23^rd.

It wasn’t a bad ride. Jenny shared the foody magazines and peanut m&ms (also don’t have those in Peru! Hint, hint.) her mom had sent her, I asked a million questions, and the scenery changed from dry dusty coast to green hills and farmland. Finally, I had landed in Bolivar!...for good!

I arrived exhausted but really really excited. My mind was almost immediately flooded with potential projects, youth groups, and fundraisers. A community garden, yoga classes, a book club, photo class, arts classes, mothers group, cooking classes, skills training, running club…and the various lists of ideas I’ve already started go on and on. After an evening spent rearranging my new room, I was ready to get started. As I put it in my journal, “Hooray! I’m home and feeling good so far.”

Site Visits- The Real Fun Begins

So as many of you already know, this past week we Peru 15ers ventured our separate ways for a week of exciting site visits. First stop, the Lima bus station where I met my group of 4 fellow volunteers heading up to the beautiful Lambayeque.

I´ve gotten many-a location question (Dad, most of those were from you) so, once and for all, my site is called Bolivar. It is a very tiny town that may or may not be found on a map. Just a heads up, it is not the Bolivar that is apparently in Loreto, an eastern department of Peru. This Bolivar is located in Cajamarca but take not that I am not near the regional capital of Cajamarca which is Cajamarca City. Instead I am near Chiclayo. So, check out this map...

http://www.gotoperu.com/map-of-peru/

Find Region #3 (numbered in red), that is Lambayeque. Find Lambayeque´s regional capital, Chiclayo (in bold). From Lima, I took a bus to Chiclayo. This will be where I have regional meetings, meet up with volunteers when I´m lonely, run errands, use internet, etc. etc. I will likely visit Chiclayo every 2 weeks or so.

My site, however, is actually in Cajamarca so find region #4. That is Cajamarca. If you look at the map, start at Chiclayo and go east right over the border with Cajamarca that is, more or else, where Bolivar is located. Northwestern Peru, not super far from the coast but technically considered more like a sierra or foothills town.

Now that location is out of the way, let me get to the visit. Like I said, from Lima we took another 12 hour overnight busride up to Chiclayo where we met our PCVLs (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader), Susan and Mike. We got to know the city a little bit, had lunch together, and, as a night time treat went to see Inception in English. So good.

The next day we had our Dia de los Socios! or Counterpart Day. For this event two or three of the Peruvian locals that we will likely be working with in our sites, came to Chiclayo to meet us, have lunch together, and hear a little bit about what Peace Corps is and what they can expect from working with us. It was a little awkward and boring but overall nice to get to know my counterparts Jorge Luis and Julio. Got to get chat with them a little more that evening when I joined them and Mike, the volunteer I´m replacing, for pollo a la brasa. Amazing.

My fellow volunteers actually headed right out to their sites after Socio Day because they were all within half an hour to an hour of Chiclayo. I, on the other hand, had to wait for the following day to catch the one bus a day that drives the four hours up to Bolivar. So after enjoying a hot shower, an Earl Gray from Starbucks, and (would you believe it!?) Real Housewives of Atlanta on cable, I met Jorge Luis and we headed to the busstop.

So they said it was a long ride to Bolivar and, yes, that´s what I wanted but they really weren´t kidding. It is a LONG ride. Four and a half hours slammed into a passenger van like we´d take to field hockey games at Stone Ridge up a very windy, rocky, unpaved road to Bolivar. Considering that the cobrador (who takes your money) had to ride on the roof, however, I had a pretty comfy seat. They certainly do not do long voyages Vassallo style though. At least we are efficient. When the cobrador got out of the bus to help a lady carry her giant squashes right to her door, I knew I was in trouble...not to mention the fact that apparently Peruvians never have to pee because there were no, and I mean zero, bathroom breaks.

Anyways, after a long journey, a short nap, and a quick run to the bathroom, I was in Bolivar! I met Dave, my sitemate, who will be in Bolivar 6 more months finishing up his fishfarm. He was really helpful and introduced me to everyone. My new host family also seems very nice. A mother, father, two daughters, who were in Chiclayo so I haven´t met, and a son named Erwin who I hear will get annoying once he gets over being terrified to talk to me.

My new bedroom is huge but pretty much empty, paved floor, hay mattress, lotsss of dust, and, (Dad, you´ll love this!) a hammock. Around the corner from my bedroom is a bathroom with a real toilet that flushes and a shower. The rest of the family lives upstairs where there´s a big living room set up much like our living room was in the old day. Chairs, table, tv, all pressed against the walls with lots of room in the middle to play ¨Dodge the Beanie Baby!!!!!!!¨(said in a very dramatic announcery kinda voice.) The house is nice and clean, as clean as anything can be in dusty Bolivar, but very very simple. We have a small stove top and a spout with running water but the sink is just a plastic bucket. After washing dishes Rosa, my new host mom, dumps the water out the window.

There´s lots more about Bolivar that will be better explained in my pictures which I´ll put up on Facebook as soon as I can but while it´s still fresh in my mind I´ll give you a quick rundown of my first full day in Bolivar....

6:30am My alarm clock goes off so I can milk a cow with Rosa. I ignore it and go back to sleep.

6:45am My host mom apparently yells down to see if I´m coming to milk the cow. I change quickly and head down the hill with her and her sister and watch from afar while they milk two cows. They´re surprised when I tell them I like milk because other volunteers have said they don´t. When I realize they might make me drink the warm bucket of milk they´re carrying up the hill, I change my mind and say milk´s okay but I drink very little.

7:30am Breakfast with the fam- Rosa, host mom (40), Chito, host dad (45ish), Erwin, host brother (13), and Dave, my site mate. Fried eggs, boiled sweet potatoes, and coffee. Not bad.

8-10am Dave takes me on the rounds, meeting everyone who walks by. We also stop by the health post and meet the doctor, obstretician and nurse. We go to the municipality and meet the nice old ladies who work there. Visit the Instituto, a huge building that was made for college or continuing ed. classes but is, for now, almost completely empty and unused. We also visited the small zoo that was funded by a Peruvian university for no one is sure what purpose.

11-12pm I headed out on my own to explore a little, buy a yogurt, hang the family that Mike (the guy i´m replacing) used to live with. They have three girls who seem pretty pumped to have a female volunteer around.

12:30pm Headed back home and helped Rosa a little bit with lunch by chopping onions. For lunch we ate tons of rice, lentils, and chicken only about half of which I could eat. Chilled with the fam for a bit and tried to understand their very different and slightly mumbled accents.

1pm Walked with Dave up to the cemetary which is about 30 minutes away. There´s an amazing view of all of Bolivar from up there...you´ll have to wait for those pics for my next trip since I didn´t bring my camera on that walk. On the walk back met a woman and her daughter and helped them lug corn and sticks back from their chakra (or piece of farm land).

3pm Got back to Bolivar and went with Dave to open up the library where kids essentially only play video games on the computers.

3:30-5:30pm An unexpected but very much needed naptime!!!!

6pm Met up with a group of ladies who work in the Municipality who were heading down the hill to feed a pig. haha. Yup. We went out back of some lady´s house, fed the pigs for a few minutes, and then all sat on the ground and ate ¨sweet lemons¨...lemons that grow in her backyard but taste more like tasteless oranges than anything else. We chatted about Peace Corps, they talked a little bit about work and their pregnant bellies (2 of them have babies on the way), and we ate lots of lemons.

7:30pm Dinner with the fam. They don´t eat much dinner: rolls with some kind of cheese from Cajamarca. Pretty good. And cups of coffee (--Wait, Have I told you guys I drink coffee now?!?!?)

8:30pm Chatted and sat with the fam in the living room watching a Jackie Chan movie. Haha. I was trying to integrate.

9:30pm Said my goodnights then headed to my room where I sat in my hammock and tried to get as much of my day as possible into my journal.

10:30pm Zonked out. Day one in Bolivar complete!!

Well, that´s all for now! Enjoy the pics everyone! I´d love to hear from you all while I still have good internet access so keep the emails coming. Also, I´ll be changing my mailing address so if, by some chance, a care package is in the making save it until I send out the new address.

Anyway, I love you all and miss more you!!!! Thinking of you all the time!

Site Placements : )

So lots has happened since the last time I posted! First of all, a little shout out to the wonderful Lauren, artsy brainiac and technological whiz, who revamped my blog! Thanks, Laur! I literally could not have done that without you…literally.

Besides my new blog design, the big news is my site placement! Yes, I have been in Peru for two months and have only just figured out where I’ll be living for the next two years. So where will all you world travelers be visiting me this Christmas, you ask? The beautiful Bolívar, Cajamarca!

I am actually super lucky because, unlike most volunteers, I got the chance to visit my site during our Field Based Training two weeks ago. That means I’ve seen the town, met the volunteer I’m replacing and my new site mate, and even have some pics on facebook. The picture above shows some students from Bolívar’s only elementary school. If you want to see a couple more, check my facebook album “Field Based Ridiculousness” and I’ve commented on most of the pics of Bolívar.

So here’s the lowdown on Bolívar…

Location: Cajamarca, Peru which is a department in northern Peru. The closest city is actually Chiclayo, the regional capital of Lambayeque, a coastal department northeastern Peru. (Again, you guys might need a map.) By “closest city” I actually mean it’s four hours away in public transportation but possibly as little as 2½ hours in a taxi…Keep in mind, however, that there is a Starbucks in Chiclayo so after a few months of loneliness up in the sierra, that 4 hours may be worth the ride.

Size: Bolívar itself has a population of 550 which is made up of about 100 families. Super small but exactly what I asked for.

Amenities: I will have electricity, plumbing, and running water though it won’t be hot. There is, sadly, no cell service but there’s a community payphone that I can use and there is some kind of semi-reliable internet in town which means we’ll be skypin’ away, I hope!

The Volunteer Situation: I am actually Bolívar’s 4th volunteer (though allegedly communities can’t have more than 3 volunteers ever). The one I’m replacing is named Michael and he used a grant from the US army to build a library…a little intimidating? Yes. Michael just finished in Bolívar but there is also a volunteer named Dave who is building a fish farm and has six more months to finish up his project. So, at least while I’m settling in, I’ll have a site mate around who knows the lay of the land and speaks English and can help me figure out how to bring furniture from the regional capital. All of that I’m pretty excited about.

So that’s that. Bolívar is the place and tomorrow evening I’ll be heading off for a week long site visit to meet my community counterparts, get to know my host family, and start wrapping my mind around 2 years here in Peru. Then we’re back to Chaclacayo for a week of final language interviews, practice community diagnostic presentations, and, at last, our swearing in ceremony. Craziness!!!!!!

And while all that is going on here, be sure that I am wondering about all that’s going on at home too! Ah, to be crammed in the middle of a Penske truck’s front seat with Dad and Laur during the long trek up to Boston! Or to share a six-pack of cold beer with Mom while we sprawl out in the sweltering heat of NYC, putting together Ikea furniture piece by piece! Or, even better, to be chasing the Brennan children around Italy, a pastry in my hand, a latte in Megan’s!

So much amazingness! I know I’m missing plenty so please keep emailing! And posting ridiculous pictures of your daily lives on facebook. Those really make me feel at home and give me a good out loud laugh in my crowded internet café…gotta love the stares you get just for being a gringa!

Well, I love you all so so so much! And am exciting to bring back LOTS of pictures from my site visit. Thanks for reading, everyone!

Much love!!

Field Based Ridiculousness

So I´ve heard from a few select sources ( ahem...Megs and Laur) that the blog´s a hit but it just may be lacking a certain degree of comedy. I´m gonna try, my friends, but I assure you it is no easy task to make potatoes and guinea pigs funny over and over again. With that said, I´ll keep your requests in mind. Tone down the sap and pump up the humor. Anything for a laugh, right Laur?

For now, though, I´ll cover the basics. Here we are, mid 7th week in Peru (or Pay-rooo if your name is Annabelle Brennan), recently retruned from our first glimpse of the next 2 years, Field Based Training! Youth Development split into 3 groups of 11 or 12 trainees and with those groups we traveled to either (have your maps handy?) Cajamarca, Piura, or Lambayeque. There we visited the regional capitols and various volunteers in their sites.

I had the good fortune (maybe it was good) to visit Lambayeque with, as I said before, a comical grouping of Youth Development´s finest. Now I must admit that I had my reservations about many of my ¨campaneros.¨ In fact, many of these reservations may or may not have come out in arage during our long drive (if sitting completely still in a taxi for over an hour can be called a ¨drive¨) tothe bus station in Lima. But the mere sight of our luxury bus...I´m not kidding, this bus could have rivaled Megan´s 1st class flight to Italy...made me put my preoccupations aside and enjoy a sublime con galleta, an American movie dubbed in Spanish, and a few hours of sleep.

Once in Lambayeque we really had an amazing time. First to Chiclayo, the regional capital, where we went on a scavenger hunt to get to know the city, firmly grasping our purses all the time! With an Earl Gray tea from Starbucks, ceviche for dinner, and a hot shower (my 1st in Peru!) we got things off to the right start.

From there we were off to Puerto Eten and Cuidad Eten, coastal towns where we visited Elizabeth, our future Peace Corps Volunteer Coordinator. She introduced us to her high schoolers who were ¨going green¨in science class! Their clothes made from recycled materials could have easily been showcased in the WashU Fashion Show this fall!

Along the way we visited a few healthposts that would have amazed (or maybe horrified) Mom and Dad. We seriously have more prescription drugs in our house than these people have in their hospitals. Bring on the Z-packs.

From there we were on to Cayalti and ZaÑa, two more coastal sites where Peace Corps volunteers are working with special education, AIDS education, and lots more. In ZaÑa we visited Nicole, a volunteer who has started a tourist industry with a group of really impressive teenaged tour guides who led us through the first Afroperuvian Museum in the country and thenthrough the remains of historical churches and buildings all over town.

At last we visited my personal fave, Bolivar, a 4 hour drive from the regional capital along a rocky dirt road past fields of sugar cane and more greenery than I´ve seen yet in Peru. It was a beautiful drive tarnished only by my poor friend Kim barfing out the window along the way. Yikes.

In this town of a couple hundred we taught some elementary schoolers rock, paper, scissors, and visited the library that Mike, the Peace Corps volunteer finishing up his service there, built with a grant from the US Army. A really great project that has so much potential to get bigger and better with the help of Mike´s replacement volunteer.

Here they said that most elementary school teachers have only finished high school, if that! To think that Megs is going to teach Kindergarten with a bachelors in ed., 2 years of teaching experience, and a masters from Harvard! Meggsies, I know it´s gonna be tough but those kids are so crazy lucky to have you!!!! Believe it.

At Mike´s house I think we saw the most stereotypical Peace Corps living situation we´ve seen so far...except for that giant mural of the Disney princesses in the dining room. Not sure what that was about. But when a chicken walked past our table and right out to the door during lunch I think I breathed a sigh of relief. ¨So this is the Peace Corps!¨

All in all it was a great trip. Despite several people´s attempts to completely alienate the Peruvians around us with questions about ice for our drinks or heat during the winters (two things almost completely nonexistent in Peru), things went well. And despite my many somewhat judgemental reservations, I certainly came back really liking and appreciating everyone in my group for their many strengths.

I must say though that on my return to Chaclacayo I was ready for some me time and you know what that means (or at least Megs, Lu, and Dana do!)- a shopping spree! Sadly in Peru that means a visit to Plaza Veia and, Dad would love this, a total bill of $44. So after a month and a half in Peru what does a Peace Corps volunteer splurge on, you might ask? I´ll tell you:

A bottle of Dove shampoo, a notebook with a pig on the cover, a bottel of body wash, and a shower sponge with a rubber ducky on top. A bottle of drinkable yogurt, 10 slices of cheese, wheat crackers, and the luxury to beat all luxuries, a box of cereal.

Yes, I lead a wild and luxurious existence here in Peru but even that has not kept me from catching a cold. Nothing big- runny nose and cough which my host mom has assured me comes from the cold yogurt I drink in the morning. When you keep in mind that she also says corn flakes look and taste like dog food, however, you realize we have completely different understandings of food in general.

Anyways, I am now off to celebrate Fiestas Patrias!- Independence Day here in Peru which happens to coincide with the birthday of a certain party maniac who recently sent me a jar of peanut butter (thanks again for that!). Happy Birthday Mom!!!!!!!! Hope you have an amazing day!

I told Mom she should move to Peru so that she can always have a day off on her birthday to totally rage. She said she was gonna rage anyway and I believe her!

Have an extra margarita for me, Mama! I love you tons! Until next time, so much love to everyone!

Yesterday we made our first visit to the Peace Corps office in Lima. It was nice to switch up our schedule for the day and spend a little extra cash on a large fry from McDonald's (they really do taste just like they do at home!).

More importantly though we talked with the Youth Development director about our site preferences and needs. I think, like most people, I've always had a pretty set idea of what the Peace Corps would be - living in a shack with lots of alone time, no running water, and little or no contact with the "outside world."

During the past 5 weeks of training, they've pounded into our heads that there is no "right" way to rough it in the Peace Corps. At least in Peru there are urban sites and rural ones, sites with a hole for a toilet and sites with wifi. But yesterday we had our moment to give our two cents- a nice change from Peace Corps' usual "wait and see!" attitude.

So what did I ask for? Well basically I asked to be way out there working with teachers and schools in a small community. When I also tried to ask for a homestay without pets, my director laughed at me. "When you're all the way out there, the animals live right in the house with you," she said. And when she said animals she wasn't talking labrador retrievers, she was talking chickens and roosters, rabbits and, you guessed it, guinea pigs.

Not sure if I've mentioned this to anyone yet but no, it's not a stereotype or urban myth about Peruvians- they really do eat guinea pigs. The Avancenas would be outraged! Remember the pen of guinea pigs they used to have in their basement??

Anyways, they still can't (or won't) tell us just how much how preferences will be taken into account but, for better or for worse, that's what i asked for! I definitely had a moment afterward...maybe I'm still having it...of doubt. What did I just do to my next 2 years?

Living "way out there" in Peru isn't like renting an apartment in Brookline. Will there be running water? Will I be okay peeing in a hole? Will I get sick of listening to my own inner monologue and little else?

Maybe it won't matter what I asked for- maybe there's some swank inner city site already picked out for me. But, while I worry the Peace Corps will ignore my requests, I worry even more that they'll listen to them! This could be a wild two years.

For now though, we're off tomorrow to field based training in Lambayeque. There we'll visit volunteers in their sites and get a feel for Peace Corps life! Youth development is split into 3 groups for these trips and, God knows how, but I have ended up with a group of Peru 15's most notorious troublemakers, complainers, and pests. One big disfunctional family we will be! Add to that one 13 hour overnight bus ride, many possible trips to the beach, and lots of sublimes con galletas (the most amazing Peruvian candy bar out there) and there you have it- our 1st week in the field.

I'll try to call or post while I'm there but keep me in your thoughts and prayers! Watch out Lambayeque, here we come!

One Month Complete- The Many Nuances of Life in Peru

Well, it is official. It has been just over a month since I landed in Peru and in that time I have learned to love...and then hate...potatoes. I've discovered the joy of pollo a la brasa, learned to grab on quick on the bus so I don't fall out, and succeeded in keeping my host brother out of my bags. It has been a month jam packed Spanglish misunderstandings, cultural stereotypes (on all sides), 30 cent ice cream cones and pack after pack of galletas (cookies)! Yes it's true, slowly but surely I am encountering the many nuances of Peruvian life.

Nuance #1: No cold drinks.

Ice is nowhere to be found here in Peru which is lucky because, as Mom so kindly reminded me (Liz, I am a nurse!), I can’t drink the water here! But the ice shortage is more than a water issue. A few mornings ago I poured myself a bowl of cereal and topped it off with some cold milk from a box.

“You eat it like that?” my host mom asked mortified. “Won’t you get sick?”

No, I explained, in a lifetime of drinking cold beverages I have never gotten sick because of them. While it may not be true throughout the country, at least some Peruvians really do think cold drinks make you sick.

Nuance #2: The Formality of Solicitudes

It seems nothing gets done here in Peru unless you put it in writing! A solicitud it’s called- a formal letter requesting anything from space in the local community center to thirty minutes of a teacher’s time during the school day.

As part of training here, the youth development volunteers are running a mini-youth group mostly because it’s great practice. For our youth group, we needed to ask our neighborhood leader if we could use the community center or “local.” So I wrote up an old-fashioned solicitud filled with formalities and I prepared to meet with the neighborhood leader to plead my case.

My host mom came with me to hand over my solicitud and what I thought would be a sit down meeting with this man became a battle with 7 to 10 sccarey watchdogs outside his house.

“Angel!” my host mom yelled. “Angel!

When Senor Angel finally came out in his pajamas he took my solicitud, barely read it, and quickly passed over the keys to the local for me to copy. And just like that we were welcomed into the local where we happily found a whiteboard, desks, school supplies, and more.

Nuance #3: (And this may be exclusive not to life in Peru but to life with a 9 year old brother) Mario’s obsession with my love life.

Let's begin in the shower. Yes, the shower. So my entire host family is convinced that "a mi me gusta" (I like...) a neighboring male volunteer who shall remain nameless...okay, it's Rob. We're not actually in love so no need for discretion. Either way, my little brother Mario asks me 5 times a day who I like in our neighborhood and despite my protests he inevitably answers his own question- "Roberto!!!"- with a devilish smile.

Now the other evening, I was in the bathroom bathing myself with ice cold water from a bucket and what do I hear but Mario banging on the bathroom door.

"Liz! Liz!"

"Mario, I'm taking a bath," I said.

"Oh, you're taking a bath?" There was a pause. And then, "And Roberto? Where's he?"

Needless to say it's been a very interesting four weeks here in Peru and for the most part I am loving every bit of it. Hope you are all enjoying my facebook pics. I'll try to keep posting more! And calling when I can but I love you all! Thanks for the emails!

Congratulations, Ruthie! and Happy Birthday, Auntie Lorraine!

This past Saturday we Youth Development volunteers gathered early at our training center in preparation for our first trip to Lima. While we waited for the buses to arrive we chatted about all sorts of things: the wild rager I knew my Aunt Lorraine was preparing for at that very moment, the Starbucks in Lima we had heard so much about, and the pitiful six soles (cerca $2) they gave us for our trip into the city.

Well somehow we got to dogbites and I started talking about my friend from high school who had been bit in the face by a dog not once but twice! The dog bit right through her lip the one time, I said, but to this day she still loves dogs. ¨Pretty unbelievable,¨ I said before slowly realizing, ¨Actually, she´s getting married today.¨

It made me cry to think of Ruthie´s wedding day. (Ruth, if you´re reading this, Congratulations! I love you so much and am so so thrilled for you and Sean.) To imagine her waking up early to begin a day full of nail and hair appointments, rituals, and toasts and tears. I cried mostly because I always cry at weddings and I was just so thrilled for her to finally be marrying Sean. But I cried too because, for a second, I realized everything that´s going on back at home that I´m missing.

Things here are so busy. We have hours of language class, followed by hours of training workshops followed by hours devoted to following the crazy lives of my host family. After an episode of Glee enjoyed in the comfort of my bed and layers and layers of clothing, I´m exhausted! It´s a total blessing that we´re so busy because there´s hardly time to imagine everything that´s happening at home...Ruthie´s wedding, Aunt Lorrainie´s bash, even just late-night chips and queso after Molly´s inevitably belated arrival to the Cape.

There´s so much to miss! But so much to enjoy here too. Today, a day off for the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul, I woke up early, snuck out of my house and went hiking with a whole bunch of great volunteers. After sweating it out, we reached a spot way up high from which you could see below a design carved right into the ground that looked like a snake. A design supposedly made by the Incas however many thousands of years ago.

After apples and water we climbed back down, hopped on a combi, and made it back home safe and sound. The second I walked into the door of my Peruvian home, ready to lay down and take a nap, I could tell my family had an entirely different idea. ¨Vamos, Liz!¨ they said. We were off to Chosica, who knows why. So I quickly showered, and I use that term loosely, changed into the only skirt I brought to Peru, and all six of us slammed into the family´s little Volkswagen Bug.

Packed in the back with the three little brothers I never had, I watched as we passed dry rocky mountains, a bridge they call Los Angeles and a town they call California on our way to Chosica. There we found a two story restaurant selling Pollo a la Brasa aka heaven on earth- Peru´s answer to Whole Food´s rotisserie chicken. For just about $20, we shared an entire rotisserie chicken, an enormous bottle of Inca Cola (yes, it´s called Inca Cola), two salads, a huge basket of amazingly greasy french fries and, don´t forget, four pieces of cake.

If there is anything we will have to do when you all come to visit me here in Peru it is most definitely eat Pollo a la Brasa. I know that seems a ways off but before you know it, we´ll all be together again! And I´ll have so much more than just chicken to share with you all.

So much love everyone! Congratulations, Ruth! Happy Birthday, Aunt Lorraine! And Congratulations Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Anthony!

Enjoy the cape kiddies...enjoy an extra jar of queso for me and don´t go to bed until your teeth are purple! XOXOXO

Ceviche, Pollo, and Cereal, Oh my!

Sunday I had my first plate of ceviche! (Told ya so, Mom!) My host parents, Susan and Cesar, drove me in their little Volkswagon Bug to Chosica, one of the biggest towns in the area. There we met Susana's father, two younger sisters, brother-in-law, and nephew. Together we made our way through a market packed with people selling everything from cheap plastic flip flops, to cell phones to every kind of vegetable and fruit you have ever sen and many you have not.

After a short walk we came to a small restuarant (I don't think I would have known it was a restaurant on my own) set up more like a bar with stolls full of people eating what I called lunch and Susana called breakfast because it was so early (11:30am). After Cesar ordered us seven plates of ceviche and seven glasses of chica morada, we went up a small staircase to an arrow dining room lined with stools. Seated together in a row on the side of the restuarant overlooking the market, we could see through the gaps in the tin roofs below, below moving busily from one shop to the next.

The ceviche was delicious although I was a bit concerned about how my stomach would take it considering the million reminders we've received that we can and will get sick at some point during our time in Peru. The chicha morada was also pretty good- a drink made with choclo morado, a kind of corn with big purple kernels. A mix between gingerale and grape soda, it eased the sting when I accidentally ate a tin piece of super hot pepper. "Se pica," they say of anything spicy.

After lunch, we went to Plaza Veia which is something like a Kmart selling clothes, shoes, electronics, and food of all kinds. Sunday must be a big shopping day in Peru...like payday at the Walmart in Gallop, New Mexico. "Un mar de gente," they say - a sea of people. There was standing room only in this mega-grocery store, not to mention (Lu, I knew you would appreciate this!) a line of maybe 50 people waiting for pre-cooked rotisserie chicken. It seems that some things are the same worldwide. Yum.

I myself did a little shopping hoping to supplement my current diet full of bologna sandwiches for breakfast and potatoes and more potatoes for lunch and dinner. I bought some fruit, some veggies, a few yogurt drinks, and yes, cereal!! Keep in mind that cereal here costs about as much as it does in the US which, in comparison to the prices of every other food here, is completely unheard of! Ceviche for all seven of us cost about $20 so a $5 box of cereal is a bit excessive. Everyone teased me that I must have tons of money to buy a box of cereal but it'll be worth it if I don' t gain 20 pounds like I did in Chile...and South Africa. haha.

Anyways, I'm off to bed. I have hours of Spanish class and tons of potatoes awaiting me tomorrow. But I hope everyone's enjoying my little blog! I'll try to keep it interesting!

I miss you all sooo sooo much and hope to talk to you soon. Dad, Happy Father's Day again! Hope you had a great day.

So much love!

Landing in Peru

Just one week ago, my family and I piled into the car with two giant suitcases and a carry-on and headed to Arlington, Virginia. After many tears and big hugs, I said goodbye to Mom, Dad, Megs, and Laur and went to the bathroom to change into the business attire they told us we´d need. In a large conference room at a Holiday Inn, I found myself with 55 complete strangers with whom I proceeded to eat dinner, drink a couple of beers and, early the next morning, leave for Peru.

I landed in Peru somewhere around 1 o’clock the following morning feeling completely exhausted and entirely wrapped up in the most unreal of circumstances. Since then, joining the Peace Corps has been a whirlwind. In seven days I have managed to move to a new country, begin speaking another language full time, and become a part of an amazing Peruvian family.

Which brings me to the very reason I have begun this blog: my own family, the one that headed home from the Holiday Inn while I set out on this wild adventure. Mom, Dad, Megs, and Laur –I miss you all already!!!!!! And love you so so much! I know without certainty that I could not possibly be here without you. But while I am here without you, friends and family alike, I’m hoping this blog might give you all a tiny peek at all that I am seeing here.

You’ve probably had it with talk of the Peace Corps—applying, interviewing, packing—it’s taken forever to get here! But I have to say that while it’s hard, day-to-day, to wrap my head around the many reasons I wanted to be here, I am so happy to have finally arrived. I have so much to tell you already and will start filling you in as fast as I can! But I wanted to get this first entry in because, for me at least, that’s always the hardest one to write.

I miss you all so much and love you even more. I so look forward to hearing from you and to sharing some of this Peace Corps craziness. Much more to come…

Liz