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.