November 18, 2007: Facing the facts

Well, after a certain occurrence the other day, it is pretty clear that my only Peruvian friend has a crush on me. While I am as flattered as any gal might be in my shoes, I worry that Freddy being sweet on me might hamper our ever-growing bond. Here I naively thought that all of our shared good times were founded upon a strong base of platonic friendship. I feel betrayed and am desperately searching for a ginger way to let my friend know that the feelings he has for me are not mutual. Unless I want to destroy the beautiful connection we have created over the last year and a half, I must handle this matter very delicately. Freddy is not like most guys. He is sensitive and kind, and I don’t want him to shed tears over the affair, which he is known to do every now and then. Before I get carried away with this common tale of unrequited love, perhaps I should tell you a bit about Freddy. He´s seven. Amongst his myriad interests are not doing his homework, getting as dirty as possible in our front lawn on a daily basis, and drinking orange soda. He is missing his two front teeth, which has made conversing very difficult lately. Somehow, despite our broken conversations, Freddy has managed to fall head over heels for none other than me. How will things between us ever be the same?

Perhaps you are curious about how I came to realize his love for me. It all started with a simple sharing of an avocado, his favorite food. When I first moved in, all avocadoes were reserved for Freddy, the growing boy of our household. A couple of weeks ago though, while we were watching our favorite cartoon together (Backyardigans), Freddy plopped down next to me on my host mom´s bed, cracked open a ripe delicious-looking avocado, and handed me the bigger half (the one without the pit, what a gentleman!). I´ll admit that I wouldn´t have looked much into this incident without those that followed. Two nights later, I asked Freddy if he wanted me to make him another cheese sandwich during supper time. Normally, I would have received an eager yes, but on that fated night, Freddy seemed embarrassed by my gesture and proceeded to show me that he was actually quite skilled at putting bread and cheese together. Maybe you see his sudden change in behavior as a simple act of defiance, but I see it as Freddy trying to convince me that while we are 18 years apart, we are capable of very similar things. But what I am about to share with you next, my friends, is the kicker. A couple of days ago I went to the market to buy some rice for my family. As I was walking over the bridge to our house with the rice in tote, there was a moment when I could see my family farming in our garden, but they couldn´t see me. A moment later, they could see me, but thought that I couldn´t see them. The campo is so mysterious and chock full of blind spots! During that second moment, Freddy, who was previously kicking around a soccer ball, stole a gargantuan gardening tool from his mom, and started eagerly chipping away at the earth. When I came around the corner and everyone was finally in full view of one another, Freddy acted superficially surprised to see me, and in an exasperated tone (while wiping his brow of fake sweat), said, ¨Oh hey Lindsay, we´ve just been working in the garden for hours. I guess since you´re here now, I should stop. Maybe we could do my homework now.¨ His mom shot a very confused look in his direction, but being a good mom, I guess she didn´t want to embarrass him in front of his first love. Freddy put the garden tool that was twice his size back in the hands of his mom, and we went inside to do some short division problems. All in all, a very romantic evening spent in Huambocancha Alta.

Before I convince you all that I am a pedophile, I suppose I will change topics. I am sad to announce that I have lost my cool gringa status within my community. I enjoyed a year and a half of celebrity rank, but now, I am nothing but a has-been. Outside of Freddy, I no longer faze any of my community members, and it seems like the school kids are downright unenthused in my presence. Last week, my friend and I announced to our two classes that we would not be meeting the next week because of the Thanksgiving holiday. We actually witnessed kids giving the thumbs-up sign to one another, something that I immediately found myself wishing was not universal. I don´t need to be popular, but I certainly don´t want to be loathed. This may seem trivial to people with real jobs and real stress, but my friend and I felt utterly rejected and used. There is really nothing worse than planning cool activities for kids who don´t respect you and think your activities are a waste. In our dejection, we found ourselves coming up with some not-so-healthy coping mechanisms (drinking heavily and self-medicating), so hopefully our impending Thanksgiving vacation alone will rejuvenate us. We don´t want to have to turn elsewhere (to booze) for help.

In a couple of days a group of 15 of us are headed up north to the most popular surf spot in Peru (Mancora) to celebrate Thanksgiving. A traditional Thanksgiving is not an easy feat here considering that half of the ingredients had to be mailed from the States. Basically the only two things that can be found here are potatoes and turkey. Summer is just beginning in Peru, so it should prove to be a good time. Maybe after 18 months here and multiple trips to the beach, I will actually brave the robust waves of Peru´s Pacific. Probably not, though. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

October 20, 2007- A very unsystematically-written update...a stream of consciousness, so to speak

Well, it´s mischief night, and instead of egging and toilet papering houses as is customary (as if I have actually ever done anything of the sort), here I sit at 7pm in my bed, with my host family already sleeping in the room beneath me. Another early night in the campo. Tonight, the closest I get to throwing eggs is smelling like a rotten one. I think it has been three weeks since I last showered, as we have had to ration our water lately since it has only been flowing freely (which means slowly trickling out of the faucet) for about thirty minutes a day. What is grosser than how infrequently we get to shower here is how accustomed we have become to smelling and being greasy. Little things, like flossing, have become so satisfying since they help us become as close to clean as we can here. Daily wet wipe wipe-downs and baby powder baths just don´t seem to be cutting it anymore. I can´t identify why my filth is all of the sudden bothering me, after a year and a half of being here. While it is alarmingly repulsive to think that in the 420 or so days that I have been living in my site, I have probably only showered 20 times, it is something that I had come to accept as part of the PC experience. Perhaps it is newly irking me because my work has picked up, and it is difficult to convince myself that I am a professional when I regularly have 2 weeks of dirt encrusted on my skin. Given the limited amount of amenities people have here to make themselves feel clean, self-satisfied, and worthy of attention, I wonder how anyone can question why Peru is not advancing at a more rapid rate?

Not that I do it very often, but feeling sorry for myself marks the start of a very destructive and depressing cycle. When my attention is drawn to what my life is lacking here, I am able to make myself feel better with the reminder that this is temporary for me, and that my life has many relief options. I could leave right now if I wanted to. If ever uber-frustrated by my luxury-lacking lifestyle in Peru, I even have the funds to go to a nice hotel to take a 2 hour long (and even HOT!) shower and sleep in a bed that is not rock hard. My frustrations are resolvable, which always comforts me, even if the above thoughts don´t spawn action on my part. My host family will never have the means to comfort themselves with the options or solutions that someone like me can so easily access. The life they have is that which they will always have, and while one can make the argument that they can never miss what they have never had, no one can convince me that they don´t feel a pang of envy when they pass a nicely-dressed or sweet-smelling person in the city, or when I let them use my computer or camera for the night. While I worked hard for the things that I have, I feel as though I have never struggled or sacrificed in the ways that they have had to in order to get the few things within their possession. They have shown me that no one is more deserving of something than someone else, because while we will always judge people who are different than us, we never know the private struggles they have endured. I don´t really know where I am going with these thoughts, but as I was watching my host dad and mom hoeing potatoes out of our garden today for 8 hours in the killer Peruvian sun, I wanted to somehow reward them with a warm bath, or massage, or at least a comfortable couch or bed to relax on. They will never have any of these things because the work they do is not income-producing, but this certainly doesn’t negate that they are the hardest workers I know. It seems unfair at times.

Following the above line of thought got me thinking about where motivation comes from, and I mean this on a deeper level than intrinsic versus extrinsic places. Before living in Peru, I never thought that sources of motivation could be so multifaceted and varied. In the states, I considered myself a very extrinsically motivated person. I always needed something to look forward to, something that would intellectually stimulate me and drive my desire to know more about the world. I placed myself on a rather rigid schedule, needing at least two things per week to look forward to, whether they were museum visits, art galleries, book readings, live music, etc. This schedule worked well for me, and I never really had too much trouble pulling myself out of bed in the morning. Obviously, in the countryside of the Andes, none of my above motivators exist. This wasn´t a problem in the beginning, because the novelty of the culture kept me intrigued and stimulated, but now that the novelty has worn of, I oftentimes struggle in completing, or rather beginning my tasks. I feel suffocated by the realization that I rarely learn anything new, or rarely meet someone or something that inspires/enlightens me. It makes me feel empty and makes me miss college A LOT! Again, my anxiety is lessened by knowing that I belong to a society that values the same things that I feel I am missing in Peru. As excessive as I believe the U.S. can be, I appreciate how well-rounded it is in most cases and places.

Anyway, back to the point. My source of motivation seems very shallow when compared to that of my host family and community members. They pull themselves out of bed at 5am every morning only to farm in the unremitting sun all day long. The women spend the entire day hunched over a wood stove cooking whatever meal comes next, and when finished this, preparing whatever is needed for tomorrow´s meals. Like mine, their motivators are extrinsic, but what a difference exists between our two motivations! I work for money to fund whatever it takes to quell my curiosities about the world, and find it very hard to work if these curiosities are not being replenished. My host family, very plainly and simply put, works to eat. They don´t read, nor do they know what it feels like to be knowledge-driven. They know what they know, which is sufficient for the tasks that they need to complete on a daily basis. Curiosity is looked down upon in my community because it takes you away from your family and your responsibilities. The differences between me and my community are so deeply embedded and layered that I can´t really rationally become angry with someone when he/she treats me like an outsider. The most interesting part of this whole PC adjustment process is that I always end the day thinking that the Peruvians I live with have more to teach me than I have to teach them. In the states, I spend most of my time exploring the many shiny distractions around me, while my host family here spends most of their time working together and getting to know one another better. I think it is clear which action is more virtuous. If only I could rid myself of my continuous desire to be on the move, I could relax and focus on what really matters. Only one question remains: If I am so excellent at doing this in Peru, will I be able to take this mentality with me to the States, or will the many tempting diversions overpower my desire to change my life´s focus? Am I only able to be the person I´d like to be when there is no persuasive force tempting me otherwise?

Speaking of how subtly smart Peruvians in our communities are, a volunteer who is ending his service soon wrote an essay about just this, but with as different focus than mine. He is an environment volunteer who lived on the coast of Peru, who set out to teach his community about recycling, water conservation, and other such environmentally related topics. In observing his community for two years, he left his service thinking that his community members didn’t really need him to teach them these things, but instead, that they left him with a much better understanding of the topics. I do not have the essay in front of me, but he brought up the question of what could he teach his community about conserving water when they bathed, cooked, and boiled drinking water each day with just a small bucket of water available to them? In managing their land and resources, I sometimes think that Peruvians are masterminds.

Enough rambling for now. Before I forget, I have something laughable to relay. As I mentioned in a previous entry, my closest friend recently left the Peace Corps to get married and move to Japan. To wish her off well, two friends and I decided to plan her a surprise party in the swankiest hotel of our regional capital. We thought that we were doing everything right. We asked our boss´s permission, we told the hotel of our plans, we even scrounged up the money to pay for the hotel room ahead of time. Kristen was as surprised as could be, seeing that Peace Corps Volunteers never stay at this hotel, obviously opting for more budget friendly locales. I went a little crazy with the purple silly string as we opened the door to surprise her, but we immediately found two staff members and promised that we would clean up the mess we made without their assistance. They smiled and wished us well, as if there were no problem whatsoever. Three hours after we checked in, and to be precise, five minutes after we joined together to sing The Little Mermaid´s ¨Kiss the Girl¨ (I mean it, the party was THAT G-rated), the manager angrily knocked on our door and kicked us out of the hotel, claiming that the mess we made was unacceptable. No warning, no request to keep our singing down, no nothing. In no time at all, we (with the help of some tape on our hands) cleaned up all of the silly string and confetti, leaving no trace of our party behind. We thought that this would be good enough for him, but he seemed bent on having us spend the night somewhere else, even though we had already spent an exorbitant amount of money on that room. He even threatened to notify our embassy, which left us all very confused. With the balloons wrapped around our wrists, and our party favors in tote, we were displaced from the nicest hotel we know of. It is pretty clear that we will never be welcomed back, not even to use the bar or bathroom, two things that every Peace Corps Volunteer in our region cherishes. It was a sad night in Cajamarca, that´s for sure. I´m still mourning the loss, both of Kristen and of the hotel.

Another interesting thing that happened recently was taking part in the national census. Since probably three quarters of Peru´s population does not have a mailing address, we were not allowed out of our houses from 8 to 6 one day in order to be counted. If you were caught out of your residence, you were arrested. People were hired to walk all up and down the mountains to count how many people were residing in each household, which could not have been a simple job, especially during rainy season. I went to the grocery store the day before the census to stock up on snacks (which I cannot live without, even if only for only 10 hours) and you would have thought the world was coming to an end. People were pushing and shoving, there were no more water bottles left, and the lines were horrendously long. This census could not have been that accurate, since I was counted twice (even though I argued against it) and since there are people who live so far away from a main road that I can´t imagine anyone in their right minds trucking all the way out there to count just a few more people of Peru. It was actually really difficult to stay indoors for so long!

One last thing. Last week at 10pm I was awoken by a pleasant symphony of the strangest whistles I have ever heard. They were tropical-bird like, and since I live in the mountains, they were incredibly out of place. I listened for a while, and they kept getting louder and louder, so I decided to put on my slippers and take a walk downstairs to see what was going on. Here I think that something is so beautiful, when in actuality, it is a warning whistle alarming everyone in the community that there has been a robbery up the hill from us. We don´t have police, we don´t have alarm systems, we don´t even have locks on our doors (some of us don´t even have doors), but thankfully we have our mouths with which to whistle. Since this incident, my family has been nervous about being robbed, which occurs both during the day and at night in our community. Is whistling really going to protect us? Typically, there is always one person in our house at a time to guard it, but the other day I came home mid-day to find myself alone, and I was really frightened. We have two doors leading into our house, both of which can be jumped over, and one of which is actually just a plank of wood that can easily be tossed aside. Our house is a major target because I live here, and so does a mine worker who makes more money than anyone in our community. It is crazy that I can´t feel safe in my house during the day or at night. That one day I found myself alone, I couldn’t even go to my room because if someone enters the house, I can´t hear it from upstairs. I took a chair outside and sat in front of the door for 3 hours until my family came home. What robbers typically do during the day is knock on your door to see if anyone answers. If someone does answer, they run away. If not, they come in and rob you. My biggest fear is being upstairs where I won´t hear a knock, and having someone come to my bedroom door because they think the house is empty. We have very little protection, which probably comforts the thieves who live in our community. You´d think that robbers wouldn´t exist in such a small, quaint, community, but I guess they are everywhere. What a shame!