August 23rd, 2006: Closing Time

Our time in the Santa Eulalia area is drawing near as training is about to end in 10 days. I fear that the majority of us are no longer putting our best feet forward, because after having visited our sites, we are itching to get our projects started. Training at times seems repetitive, and our attention is definitely on other things. I have developed some nervous tendencies such as twitching rather noticeably when I get bored, or writing nonsensicalities on any blank surface I can find in my bag, to the point that I have used all of the ink in the five pens I brought to Peru. While all of our mandatory community projects are completed, we have other time consuming plans to make, such as orchestrating a goodbye and thank you party for our host families, meeting about Peace Corps paraphernalia we might want to design and purchase, and most importantly, deciding what we are going to do our last weekend as a group. It’s finally occurring to us that while Santa Eulalia isn’t the most hopping small city in the world, it definitely has more entertainment options than the countrysides we will be inhabiting for the next two years. I am not sure that I mentioned this before, but the closest thing that my site has to “fun” is sitting with my hostdad in his openfront pharmacy, staring out into the plaza and talking about the day’s weather or the habits of the neighborhood dogs. Luckily I have a great imagination. I do, however, anticipate missing having 35 people at my fingertips to call whenever I want company to speak English with and entertain me. It will surely be a rude awakening for all of us when we are plopped at our sites for good, hundreds of miles away from each other.

In addition to wrapping up training and bidding farewell to one another, we are also struggling with saying goodbye to our families here, which is a great deal harder than I ever expected. In a mere ten weeks, we have all established relationships with these people that I am sure will last forever. They have seen us at our best (collaborating to enhance their communities) and our worst (stumbling home with them drunk and sloppily leaning on them for support after realizing that we are not nearly as tolerant of alcoholic beverages as they are), and despite all cultural differences, they have accepted us in all of our glory. To me, they truly feel like real family members, and it saddens me to think that for the next two years, I won’t be privy to their daily happenings. I can only hope that I build the same relationship with my new family. Attempting to detach from my family here has been difficult, because the closer my departure date gets, the more complicated their lives are getting, which makes me want to stay even more to help them out. Over the last two weeks, my host dad’s dad has become very ill with an enlarged prostate that desperately needs surgery, which my family doesn’t have the money for. A common fundraising tactic here is called a “pollada”, where the family in need cooks a meal of chicken with aji (a spicy pepper sauce), potatoes, and salad, and charges everyone interested 6 soles (2 American dollars) to attend. My host mom and I planned one for my Peace Corps friends and staff members, and in doing so, it occurred to me just how invested I am in this family. Any emotion they experience, I feel as well. We were able to raise around a quarter of what they need for the surgery, which is good considering how slowly money accrues with polladas. The response from the Peace Corps crew was incredible, especially considering that they had the option of getting fed for free by their families, and all of us are financially strapped from how expensive our travels were. Not only did most of them purchase a meal ticket, but most of them also made a generous donation. These are the types of people I hope to fill the rest of my life with.

On an unrelated note, I mentioned in my last entry that I had forgotten to mention two experiences that I have had here in Peru, one that scared and nauseated me, and the other that confirmed exactly what I am here for. Let’s start with the former…

I think I may have mentioned a few weeks ago that my family had invited me to the mountains for a pachamanca over one holiday weekend, which I was ecstatic about, because such invitations are indicative of acceptance within your family and the culture. Before going over the details of this “holiday celebration,” allow me to explain what a pachamanca is (probably one of the most enjoyable components of Peruvian culture, or at least that which is specific to this region). A pachamanca is a barbecue of sorts, where rocks, alfalfa twigs, and the food you desire to cook is buried in the ground in a circular hole to cook for an hour or so. Usually, under the earth and a tarp, you place marinated chicken, cheese, sweet and regular potatoes, whole apples, pineapple, beans, and sweet corn tamales. Man, have the Peruvians mastered grilling! It doesn’t need to be watched carefully, nor do you have to flip the ingredients during cooking. I cannot wait to recreate this idea in the states because the concept, not to mention the FLAVOR is out of this world! Anyway, back to the story. We awoke at 3am, after I had been out until 2am the night before, and while I was a little cranky from the lack of sleep, I was reassured by my host mom that I would be able to sleep in the car during our 6 hour journey. This was a gross exaggeration on her part, considering that unbeknownst to me, my family was playing a little game of “How many family members can we pack into one tiny car for a really long and uncomfortable roadtrip?” Not only was I smooshing together body parts with people I did not yet know, but our body heat was making the raw pachamanca meat cook in the back of our car. The stench was unbearable, and I really considered walking the rest of the way. We were apparently in no rush to get there either, and made an effort to stop at almost every random building we encountered along the way.

After spending two hours getting to the mountain, the remaining four hours was spent battling the upward climb to the top of one of the larger mountains I have seen here, or anywhere, for that matter. Even if our car hadn’t been packed with people, I would have never been able to sleep with how rocky our path was. My host brother had to get out of the car and walk in front of us for most of the ride, clearing big rocks out of the way so that they didn’t kill our car. Wait a second here, is this even a road? I was feeling so sick at this point, because I really felt that if all of us leaned to the left, our car would surely go soaring off the mountain. While we made 35 stops on the flat land we were previously driving on, I don’t think it ever occurred to them to make some stops while driving up the mountain so that we could acclimate to the altitude change. By “we” I think you all know I mean “I,” and boy oh boy oh boy was I feeling the change in altitude. My host mom was dementedly delighting in how many colors in the rainbow my face was changing as we ascended, and at that point, I would have paid my entire life savings to take a private jet back to our house to sleep it off. I kept a smile on my face though by thinking about the delicious pachamanca that awaited us, and the cultural exchange I was about to partake in. Unfortunately, all that truly awaited us four hours later was some drunken Peruvians (at 9am) slicing up a live llama with machetes in the middle of nowhere, no buildings or bathrooms in sight, only sprawling mountains and a very unhappy Lindsay. After being sprayed with llama blood, I decided to use the bathroom to both pee and throw up, but the bathroom was just a half-dollar sized hole in the ground, with no structure blocking you from the rest of the crowd. How in the world are you supposed to aim your pee or anything else towards such a miniscule hole? I didn’t even really try to do so, but instead, I just peed all over my pants. This, in such a frigid setting, froze almost immediately, and I found myself pondering which was worse, being covered in wet or frozen urine, llama blood, and vomit. After being there for 15 minutes, my family decided not to have the pachamanca after all because it was too cold, so essentially, we took a twelve hour roundtrip to see the violent slaughtering of a llama (I wish I was exaggerating, I really, really, do, but it’s the truth, just ask my dad who I called in a bewildered state right after the event, wondering if what I just experienced really happened). Remind me to never, under any circumstances, agree to such a trip again. Also remind me never to complain about a holiday celebration in the states, because nothing compares to my mountain mishap.

Now, onto more uplifting themes. Every Wednesday in training, we have a dia de practica, a day to put our skills to the test. For youth development volunteers, this usually means working with yappy children in a really rowdy setting. A few weeks ago, though, we all took a bus to Lima to spend the day at a boarding school/orphanage for boys. We never really look forward to going into Lima because the air quality is really poor, and the weather always overcast, so usually, we return from our trip feeling pretty shitty. One component of our dias de practica that we are never really stoked about as well is that we never have any concrete details, which we are told is common for Peru. Details and punctuality lack, so usually any activity you plan will not be applicable to the setting, and whatever time you want it to start at will be unrealistic. The Peruvians live by the “hora Peruana,” which means they never start on time, even in professional settings. This can be difficult for Americans (North Americans) to adjust to, since we are so time-obsessed. My mom, however, who is perpetually two hours late, should move down here where she would fit in nicely.

So we get to this school with minimal details about the age group we will be working with, how the day is going to be structured, and whether or not the kids know anything about the topics we prepared for them. Within our group, the volunteers broke up into groups of three and each group planned a charla (interactive discussion) on a different theme, including topics such as values, nutrition, and decision making. We were told upon our arrival that we would be doing a round robin, where we would stay in the same room all day, but the kids would rotate in groups of six to see our charlas, which all lasted for 30 minutes. My group prepared a charla on dental hygiene, which is something that is oftentimes neglected with the population that we are working with. We took the kids outside to play a dynamica (a game related to the topic) in order to get their energy levels up. We chose to do duck, duck, goose, but instead, transform it into tooth, tooth, cavity. If they got tagged, they had to visit the center of the circle, which was labeled the dentist office. We thought this was brilliant, but as I type this, I realize what cheeseballs we are, but whatever, they enjoyed themselves. We returned to the classrooms and made our first focus flossing. Floss is fairly expensive here, so many people overlook that step, and their dental health subsequently suffers. We listed the steps to proper flossing on a piece of cardboard, cut out each step, and had the kids place the steps in the order they thought they belonged in. It was surprising to see how many steps they mixed up, but it made us thankful that we had included the activity. Even after the activity though, they seemed confused about the importance of flossing, so we slyly brought popcorn as a treat for them, after which we caught all of them picking their teeth. AHA! Wouldn’t that be easier to remove with floss? This is when we gave them all a piece of floss and had them demonstrate what we had just shared with them. After this, we did a little toothbrushing activity which we overdramatized a bit. I stood behind one of the guys in my group, hiding my body, and wrapping my arms around his body to serve as his own arms. The other guy in our group read to us the appropriate steps to brushing ones teeth. We started off by eating oreos, to show how much sugar can stick to your teeth and cause cavities. I couldn’t see what I was doing obviously, so as much as I tried to get the oreos into Josh’s mouth, they were actually being smeared all over his face. When I tried to floss his teeth from behind, I inadvertently flossed his nose and chin, and when I brushed his teeth, it was even more of a mess. The kids were losing it with laughter, and so was I to the point that tears were running down my face. It was such a fun activity, and when we quizzed the kids at the end, they seemed to really get something out of it. On the way home to Santa Eulalia, I thought about how when I used to babysit when I was younger, I would always try to plan fun and educational activities for the kids I babysat, and none of them would be receptive. I would spend hours cutting out materials and planning interactive learning games, and instead, all they would want to do was play video games and watch t.v. I can’t explain to you how rewarding it was to be around kids who gave us their undivided attention and took something away from what we had planned for them. This is the first time since being here that I was absolutely sure that I was exactly where I belong. As many ups and downs there are here, there is nowhere in the world I’d rather be. While the business group of volunteers makes fun of us because they think all we do is play really simpleminded games with the kids, I can truly say that I think the kids are learning important skills and lessons from our interactions.

In the spirit of sappiness, below I would like to list the things I will miss most about Santa Eulalia.

1. My dear friends Hana and Kristen, the first people I have found in the world who are as dorky as me. I will miss our cooking, dancing, and slumber parties, talking about snacks and/or our bowel movements constantly, and how honestly we communicate with one another.
2. My host mom’s shy and embarrassed smile and how well humor translates without words.
3. Having tickle fights with my host sister, which we are entirely too old for, making it even more fun than it would normally be.
4. The confused roosters that live in our town who never rise with the sun, and cockadoodledoo whenever their hearts desire, which is usually every five minutes ALL DAY LONG.
5. The makeshift motorcycles with huge rickety carts attached to their fronts, whose drivers scream with purpose into their megaphones about nothing other than oranges and apples in their best auctioneer voices. “NARANJAS, NARANJAS, 1 SOL PER KILO, NARANJAS!”
6. The training staff here, and how at peace they seem to be with their lives and jobs. I hope that all of us absorbed some of their tranquility to take to our sites with us.
7. My Spanish teacher Isabel, who I may or may not have written a love letter to.
8. Waking up early enough to greet the people on the hill who have to wet down their land so people like me don’t go flying down it with the dirt. These people alone are responsible for my well being here.
9. The incredible view of the city from my room on the mountain.
10. Being so close to Lima. It’s been good for my peace of mind.
11. People blasting Huayno music all day long, which sounds like a weird combination of Indian music and something else really weird and bad. Somehow though, it has quickly become my favorite. If you are wondering why you have never heard of it, it is because its utter awfulness has made it so it has not been able to transcend country borders.