Well hello my faithful followers! I know you’ve been sweating it out for more than a week in anticipation of another blog entry, but I assure you this one will be well worth it. The past week has been a whirlwind of fun and debauchery, also known as Field-Based Training. The Intention: to get “real-life” experience in the capacity of teaching business concepts to a class at a Peruvian Technical School. The Setting: Contumaza, Cajamarca: a sleepy but lovely little town in the mountains of central Peru. The Culprits: Kevin, the business program facilitator, Sarita, the fabulous language professora-extraordinaire, and nine PC Volunteers in the business program.

Before I begin, I would like to offer many thanks to Kevin, for he not only allowed us to carry out our debauchery, but he highly encouraged it. Without his subtle, yet firm pressure, I may not have such fantastic stories to share with you today. Without further ado, I present a photo-journal of:

Kim Integrates into Peruvian Life

This just happens to be number two of the three Peace Corps Goals, as well as my personal favorite.

Exhibit A: I ride in the back of a truck with 10-12 other people.

(Note to Peace Corps Staff reading this blog: we only rode on unpaved roads, and there were no other means of transportation available. Thus we did technically abide by rule #9 under the Motor Vehicle, Travel and Transportation Policies in our Volunteer Handbook.)

Until it breaks down of course.

On a side-note, I also ride in dump trucks, but unfortunately I didn't have a camera for that particular event.

Exhibit B: I don’t think a thing about crossing very questionable bridges.

Exhibit C: I participate in donkey races.

I’m not exactly sure how this idea was formulated, but I know it began when Kevin asked us one evening, “how can we make this trip more fun?” I told him that I would very much like to ride a llama. Being that there were no llamas within a five hour radius, however, somebody else suggested a donkey (Contumaza has an abundance of donkeys, as well as sheep and goats, that roam aimlessly through the streets). This naturally progressed into the idea of having a donkey race in the town’s main square. Two other volunteers were assigned the task of securing the donkeys for the race, which would take place, of course, at High Noon on our final day. This turned out to be great practice for our next two years in site, because it involved getting out amongst the good people of the town and conversing. Friday morning we set out in search of some suitable steeds. Paul, our designated cattle-herder, initially approached a sprightly young couple, who couldn’t be a day under 92, to inquire about their mules. He explained to them that his wife (me) and son (another volunteer, age 27) were from the United States, and we had always dreamt of riding donkeys around the square of their small village. Much to my surprise, they did not seem surprised at all. They said to him, “Senor Gringo, unfortunately we are on our way to our farm and need the use of our donkeys. If you come back tomorrow, Senor Gringo, it would be an honor to lend you our finest mules.” They were highly disappointed when he told them we were leaving early the next morning. We had more luck at the next house, though, and were able to rent two lovely donkeys from another family, who also didn’t seem bewildered in the least by our request. We started by walking the donkeys through town to the main plaza, but we ran into some of our students from the institute, and they insisted that we ride the donkeys. What resulted was a bizarre little parade, with people waving to us as we walked up the main street to the plaza. Paul was also able to secure us some local flair for the race, and after all bets were placed, we commenced to race the two donkeys around the square, much to the amusement of the locals. Clearly, this never would have been acceptable in the United States, but even the local police in Contuma weren’t concerned a bit when we rode right by them. God bless Latin America. P.S. As it turns out, I am a natural at donkey racing, and left the other jockey eating my dust. In all fairness, I did have the finer steed, but I do still hold the course record…




















Exhibit D: I know everything there is to know about obtaining, killing and preparing cuy (guinea pig) for consumption.

Cuy is a popular dish in this region, so my goal was to eat it while in Cajamarca. My colleague, Keith, took that goal a step further and decided we should learn how to cook one as well. Being the great coach that he is, Kevin encouraged us to take that on as a side-project. Never one to turn down a challenge, I accepted. Although I’ve never actually killed an animal before (and I always said I would become a Vegetarian before doing so), I had to remind myself that I am in the Peace Corps. I am here to integrate, and people here do not cuddle the cute little guinea pigs… they eat them. Also, the meat is high in protein (second only to rabbit!) and low in fat/cholesterol. I may have to teach people in my pueblo how to raise them for consumption one day. Also, I repeat: I am in the Peace Corps. I must be hard core, no matter what the cost. I’m just putting this out there, because I know I will be judged for the following segment. I did have to mentally prepare myself for two days, and I nearly chickened out when the moment of truth came. That being said, I can now ask myself, “Are you proud of what you’ve done?” The answer, my friends, is a resounding yes. But I digress. I know you are all anxious to learn how one goes from a fuzzy little friend to supper, so here goes.

Step 1. Find out how and where to obtain the finest guinea pigs at the best price.

In case you’re curious, a gringo should never attempt to purchase cuy… you will be ripped off. Best option: talk to the local priest; he will know people. Also, do not be surprised when you show up the next day to pick up the cuy, and he hands you a large sack.




















Step 2. Find an experienced guide to teach you how to kill and cook the cuy.

If you’re ever in Contumaza, you should know that Milagritos, a local restaurateur, is a most excellent choice. Or, you can always give me a call; I think I could be considered an expert now.



















Step 3: Kill the cuy.

We bought three cuyes, and Milagritos killed the first one to demonstrate the method. As you could probably guess, this is the part where I was ready to throw in the towel. I thought it would be a quick process, but oh no, it was not. Fortunately, Kevin would not let me back down. Nor would Milagritos, for she literally heaved the knife into my hand and held the little cuy down. After all my big-girl talk, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was. This part is a bit graphic, so I am not posting any pictures, but if you are interested, let me know. I can send pictures and/or a video of this step being carried out. Keith and I actually put together a pretty informative little video documentary.

Step 4: Prepare the cuy for cooking.

Again, this part is a bit too graphic for the general public, so I’ll skip ahead a bit…

Step 5: Fry the cuy and enjoy with friends.

Bon Apetit!















So as you can see, Field-Based Training was a great success!

P.S. Contumaza is no exception to the rule; it has some adorable stray dogs dressed in human clothing, a la this sassy little pup…