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 1st 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!
