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!!