October 27, 2006: Nothing like I thought

I have decided that expectations can serve as quite the hindrance. When initially accepted into the Peace Corps, I was given very limited information about my site and job, so naturally, my imagination conjured up all sorts of expectations of what my experience would be like. For some reason, I spent most of my time painting a mental picture of what my living arrangement would look like. I attribute this fixation of mine to the fact that the majority of returned Peace Corps volunteers that I have met have most elaborately described their austere surroundings during service. From their descriptions, I saw myself in an adobe two-roomed hut minus floors, windows or a bathroom, equipped with nothing more than a wood stove. These figments of my imagination couldn´t be any further from how I am actually living, to be honest. I am living in the nicest house of my 12,000-people pueblo, and have the most luxuriously comfortable room that I have inhabited since going away to college. And, if I ever get homesick, I can walk down the hall and watch CSI on DirecTV and pretend I am watching it with my dad. Yes, DirecTV. Is this really third world living? When I discovered these advantages, I was a little sad that I would not have an experience closer to camping for two years (since I LOVE to camp), but ultimately, I was thankful that the challenges I envisioned were nonexistent. However grateful I was though, I forgot to consider that their may be less superficial challenges that I failed to expect or envision, making them that much harder to resolve. When I have expectations about something, I usually find that if those expectations become realized, any wrinkles involved aren´t terribly difficult to iron out considering they aren´t surprises.

There is one main hurdle that I am facing right now, which I really don´t know how to tackle. I am referring to my slow, and seemingly hopeless integration process. While I am trying my darnedest to make myself available to any and all townspeople, I feel that I may be stigmatized by the social status of the family I am living with. I have noticed that many townspeople are self conscious when I enter their homes, perhaps because they know that I am living large up by the plaza. In such a homogenous society, where I already stand out enough, I really don’t want people thinking that I think I am too good for them, too good to live in a house with dirt floors and an outhouse. They probably think that it was my choice to live in what is most doubtlessly considered Jesus´ palace. It´s really uncomfortable because they practically genuflect to me every time they see me, as if they are not worthy of my presence. I really don´t know how to fix something that I didn´t impose upon myself. I am praying that with more time and patience on my part, I can prove myself as different than the people in my town are currently viewing me as. It is just frustrating because my friends who are living more primitively, like the people in their towns, aren´t having the same integration difficulties. I hope that in a couple of months I can look back on this entry and laugh at my present preoccupations. I know I will be a lot happier when the townspeople accept me as one of their own.

I am not missing home too much, but I definitely experience pretty crippling waves of nostalgia that are sparked by the strangest things. The other day, as I was watching a TV show in English, jazz music was on in the background. Much of the music here leaves a lot to be desired, and hearing something so soothing and warm made me really homesick. One thing I have noticed here is that people either don´t care about or can´t afford to create cozy ambiances in their homes or businesses. For a population that is generally so tranquil, they don´t have many things to seek comfort in, or niches in which to act out their tranquility. Things that we use in the states to spruce up our surroundings and make them more snug aren´t very popular here (pillows, rugs, couches, posters, artwork, candles, relaxing music, etc.). So when I do certain things like listen to jazz or classical music or light a candle in my room, I am reminded of how many comforts exist for me in the states (most of which I didn’t even consider comforts before coming here). I don’t think I am comprehensively explaining this. Basically, some things tickle my senses here to the point that they almost transport me back to the states, never for as long as I want, but always for long enough to make me realize that I just miss the feeling of being there and living in a place where I have the power and resources to cheer myself up almost immediately. It makes me wonder if the Peruvians I am working and living with have a really low quality of life, or if my standards are just skewed. Are they happily married? Do they have dreams that they fear they will never accomplish? Are they proud of and comfortable in their homes? I really don´t know.