Love Letter to Yanacoto

How quickly it comes and how quickly it goes. This past week, I shook off the Yanacoto dust and trekked it up to the lovely hills of Cajamarca, this time with a one-way ticket. Adios training, hello rest of my life! While I have been eagerly awaiting this time, it is certainly bittersweet to close this chapter of my Peace Corps paperback. To pay her the respect she deserves, I’ve decided to make a verbal shrine to all the things I will miss about my lovely town of Yanacoto.

THE GOOD.

My Rockin’ Family. We’ve had some times, that’s for sure. The highlights for me include:

Hanging out with my adorable siblings. Their favorite pastime was coming into my room and taking inventory of my belongings. Marcos liked to rearrange my shoes, and Jennifer liked to open and close my “singing card” over and over again (she can now sing “I Say A Little Prayer For You” in perfect English). But most of all, they liked to look at the album of pictures that I brought along from home. We went over the names of every person in every photo at least six times per day. They would then give each other quizzes as a check-for-learning activity. It always made me chuckle when I would be sitting at my desk reading, and I heard the voices of four little Peruvians saying things like, “No Nicolas, Caroline isn’t blonde, she has curly hair. Duh!”

Sharing American deliciousness. Peruvians, for the most part, love sweets/anything sugary. You can find cookies, candies and general snackage being sold every ten feet, even the most remote areas. In fact, my family was horrified that I didn’t put sugar in my coffee. Every morning they would expectantly set a cup of sugar in front of my cup and stare at me with great anticipation, only to have their hopes dashed again and again. Then we would talk about my strange habit for a good fifteen minutes or so, as they each dumped five heaping spoonfuls of sugar into their pre-sweetened cocoa. So I decided to take advantage of their saccharine fixation by teaching them the art of s’more-making. Needless to say, it was a huge hit with the fam. My parents were so excited about the new treat that they didn’t even seem to mind when Marcos got marshmallow stuck in his hair. Success!

Being the official photographer at my parent’s wedding. After nearly 15 years together, Dad decided to make an honest woman of Mom. Kidding… sort of. In Peru, weddings are expensive, so most people have what they call “civil marriages.” Which means, from I’ve gathered, that the couple agrees to live together in cohabitation and call each other pet-names. Sort of like common law in the States, but less official. So the ‘rents decided it was high time to make things right between their Union and the Man Upstairs. Mom borrowed a beautiful white dress (I tried to suggest otherwise due to the whole “you have four kids thing,” but I couldn’t think of the word for ‘ecru’ in Spanish…), and we all trucked it down to the church on a Saturday morning. As it turns out, there were nine couples getting married at the same time. Apparently the Lord offers a buy-in-bulk discount.

THE BAD

Rowdy neighbors. On one side of my house lived a lady who insisted on shrieking at the top of her lungs from the hours of 4 am through 2 am. I’m not sure why she screeched or to whom she was making this awful noise, but I know one thing for sure: she always did it at the highest decibel known to man. On the other side of my house lived a family who insisted on rocking out to bad soft rock music from the 80’s. “Making Love Out of Nothing At All” and “I Thought I Loved You, But I Lied” were two constant favorites. In addition, I also had a little store next door where all of Yanacoto’s finest did their stoop-drinking. For those of you unfamiliar with the art form, stoop-drinking is just that: you buy beer from the store and sit on the steps outside to drink it. Sundays were a big day for stoop-drinking, and the men would get rather loud and obnoxious by 10 am. Though it always annoyed me, a few of us finally broke down one night and did a little stoop-drinking of our own. I guess if you can’t beat ‘em… join ‘em.

The bullhorn car. My biggest regret upon leaving the 'Coto was that I couldn't get a picture of the bullhorn car. I believe I mentioned it in an earlier blog post, but at 5 in the morning a car would drive around making announcements over a bullhorn, which was strapped to the roof with an old rope. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I really learned the purpose of this broadcast-mobile… they are hired by the municipality to call out people who haven’t paid their electricity or water bill. So if you try to screw the system, the system humiliates you in front of your neighbors. Ouch!

The combis. Oh, the joy that is riding a Combi! My life will have such a void without my daily trips on this pleasure-mobile. In reality, I do not hate the combis nearly as much as some others, but not a day goes by when I don’t think: A. We are about to crash head-on with a car/bus/wall/mountain, and/or B. There are so many bodies on this thing that I cannot tell which body parts are mine and which belong to my fellow passengers. R.I.P. Combi… you will be missed.

THE UGLY

The food. I love my family dearly, but this doesn’t necessarily mean that we see eye to eye on every detail. Food, namely, has been the biggest source of disparity. Don’t get me wrong, I know that the Peace Corps is about culture exchange, and nothing is more cultural than food. Hence I eat it all, and I do it with a big fat smile on my face. In retrospect, I am not sure that this was the best strategy. The more I ate crazy foods and pretended to enjoy them, the crazier my food array became. This last week has proven to be the pinnacle, as my family is trying to bid me farewell by serving all of their favorite “delicacies.” I can judge which foods I hate the most by how many times I have to swallow whole without chewing. The winner’s circle for this week includes, drum roll please…

#4: Anticuchos. This is grilled animal heart in shish-kabob form. These are a really popular street food here, you’ll see them everywhere. The aren’t so bad if they are beef, but my family went the chicken route. Bad idea. I believe they did so because we had these on the same day as my number one pick, which I’ll get to in a moment.
#3: Cau Cau. This is cow stomach. Yep, the most vulgar of the internal organs, save maybe the intestines (getting to that one in a moment as well), the stomach tastes about how it sounds. This meal required me to ask for seconds of my rice/potato mountain, solely for the purpose of hiding the stomach pieces in between.
#2: I kind of gave it away back there, but chicken intestines wins the honor of first runner-up. I’ve been served these a few times, but I only recently found out what it was. It is served cut up in a soup, along with a soggy popcorn-like creature. I thought it was squid. The discovery made things so much worse on a physiological level.
#1: Sangrecita. Those of you who speak Spanish may already have guessed what this is. For everyone else, let me enlighten you. Sangrecita is animal blood, in this case chicken, fried up in big fat chunks. That’s right, fried blood. Yummy! To make matters worse, this was my breakfast Sunday morning, just a few hours after getting in from an all-nighter. No rice/potato mountain to save me this time! As always, I grinned and bore it as any good Peace Corps Volunteer would.

Well, there it is: the good, the bad and the ugly. But in the end, it was all really, really good.

Cuyes get the last laugh…

Well hello there my dear friends, family and random blog-addicts! I have just returned from my first visit to San Miguel this past week, and it was a terrific time indeed… and at least slightly less awkward than anticipated. First of all, it is visually stunning, surrounded by mountains and green pastures galore. To quote my good friend Siobhan, it is “Sound of Music pretty, minus the Nazis.” In addition, it has some damn-fine dairy products; I frequented one particular ice-cream joint three times within a 24-hour span. So with Julie Andrews-worthy views and all the cheese you can eat, you might ask, “why is this place not crawling with tourists?” Transportation, my friends, transportation. I believe every one of my posts thus far has mentioned public transport in some way, shape or form, as it is: A. Incredibly important to daily life here, and B. Really, ridiculously screwed up. I have to submit to our Safety Officer a description of how to get to my town in case of emergency (as well as a place nearby where a helicopter could land in the event that that is needed, which I’m secretly hoping for), so I thought I’d share with you the details:

Leg 1. Bus from Lima to Cajamarca: 17-19 hours. This is actually the best part of the trip for me, as the reclining seats are comfy, and my childish nature allows me to sleep for 90% of the trip. Also they’ll play your movies on the TV system if you ask nicely.
Leg 2. Find a car that will drive you from Cajamarca to San Miguel: This can take hours, as you have to wait for the driver to find enough passengers to make the drive worthwhile. The minimum is five, the maximum is eight-ish, I believe, though it could be more if there isn’t luggage in the trunk. On my first ride, we were pulled over by the police on two occasions for having excess passengers. Fortunately the driver was the second-cousin-once-removed of the first policeman and had fixed the second policeman’s leaky radiator last year, so we were able to continue on our trek (though out of respect, one of the passengers hopped out of the car each time and walked up a few blocks, where we picked him back up “out of sight” of the police).
Leg 3: Once you have secured driver and passengers, the final phase commences. The first hour of this trip is on a paved road, but the next two to three hours are a doozy. Let’s just say it involves potholes big enough to swallow a llama and some seriously sharp curves. Oh, it may also involve the sketchy bridge from my previous post, but don’t worry, they fixed it. And by fixing, I mean they threw a mound of dirt over the top. We drove across it on my way back from San Miguel without incident. I’m not going to lie, I was sort of disappointed not to get stranded on it like my friends. I’ll suffer just about anything if it makes for a funny story. But anyhow, now you’ve made it to San Miguel; best case scenario: 21 hours of travel and only four large men sitting on top of you. I honestly cannot wait for visitors!


A few pictures San Miguel in all her glory:

This is the main plaza in the town, as well as the (only) church. The church is made of Adobe, which is essentially compacted mud. The majority of the buildings in this region are made of Adobe.










This is actually the view from my house; my only visible neighbors are seven pigs, twelve sheep and a cornucopia of cows.





Speaking of my house, I was a tad nervous about seeing it. Upon arriving in Cajamarca on Monday morning, the nine of us that will be living in that department met with our Regional Coordinator. He went one-by-one, describing our families and homes. I was last, of course. After talking about really nice houses with tile floors and cable TV, he came to me and stopped dead in his tracks. The description went something like this, “Well, Kim… your family has a BIG heart. They are a bit on the poor side… but they have BIG hearts. The house is humble, and you may want to change after a few months… but gosh that family has a BIG heart!” Hmmmmm… interesting. To make a long story short, I met the family and fell instantly in love. They really do have big hearts, in all honestly. Within the first ten minutes of meeting, I received no less than twenty-two hugs. My mom, Madi, cannot decide what she enjoys more: hugging or laughing. These two actions fought it out for the majority of my visit. My little brother, Jonatan, is fifteen and has down syndrome. He cannot speak very well, but he can make motions to express himself quite well. He is incredibly caring and loveable, just like his mommy. As if this wasn’t great enough, I am also graced with the presence of my 81 year-old grandma, Elvia. She is equally delightful; very energetic and bubbly. She tells people in town that I am her granddaughter, not bothering to explain the whole Peace Corps/American thing. This garners quite the befuddled look, but good ol’ Elvia doesn’t think a thing of it.


This is in our yard, where we have a cornfield and garden (complete with avocado tree… I couldn’t be more excited if it were a tree of pure gold). After lunch, we sit out in the cornfield and chat for a few hours. Every twenty minutes or so, we see a car pass by on the main road into town. Mom points each of them out to me and gets rather excited, often leading to a fit of laughter.

My new house can be described as very “Peace Corps,” perhaps even pushing the envelope to be called “National Geographic.” The walls are Adobe, and the floors are Mother Nature’s finest dirt. The kitchen consists of a fire pit and stone covering used for a stove/oven. There is nowhere for the smoke to escape, so the walls and ceiling are covered in soot. I’m in desperate need of a health volunteer to teach me how to fix this, before I come home with the black-lung. The highlight, however, is that there is a colony of cuyes living in the kitchen, and I do not mean in cages. I counted at least 25 of them, and they scatter about as they please. During meals, they run over my feet and nibble at my toes; I just know they are getting revenge for my killing one of their own a few weeks back.

A few more pics to enjoy:








A few of my new siblings











I brought tomatoes for a salad one day. Mom peeled them up and let the peels drop on the floor for the cuyes to enjoy as well!











My room is on the second-floor, though I have to climb two ladders to get up there… sort of a hay-loft, if you will. The room is very large and spacious, though also dirt-floored. I do have a balcony off of my room with some incredible views; I’ll definitely be investing in a hammock once I can afford one. Pics of my room (second floor) and staircase:






















Though they may be humble, I could not be more pleased with my house and family. I truly believe that this experience is about living as the locals live, and this is much more than what many Peruvians have. I look forward to many months of conversation, and of course hugs, in this new home of mine.

So a little more about the work that I will most likely be doing over the next two years (though we’ve been warned that ultimately many projects fail, while new ones may arrive)…

1. Artisan association: I will be working with a group of women who make woven goods, such as scarves, pashminas, table-cloths and other similar items. This type of weaving (and in particular, the design) is exclusive to the region of Cajamarca. The group has been formalized association for over ten years now, and may be ready for exportation soon. They are definitely ready for some serious marketing initiatives, so that should be fun. I have seen some of their work, and it is incredible; it would definitely sell in the States and other more “demanding” countries. To see more, take a look at their website: http://www.sabinevess.nl/miguel.html (Step One: Fix their website!!).

Also, they gave me a cake to welcome me to town. Boo-yeah!














2. Lactation Institute: There is a local Institute (sort of the equivalent to a technical school in the U.S) that focuses on teaching students how to make and sell dairy-related products, including cheese and yogurt. One of the “lactation specialists,” as I like to call him, is my community partner, so I should be working quite a bit here. Not to mention it is right next-door to my house. They have already scheduled “Learning Computer Skills with Kim” classes for the week that I arrive… yikes! They also want me to eventually teach a business course to the students, and maybe help them in the sales strategy for their products. I think I am most excited about this particular project, as it combines two of my favorite things: teaching and cheese. I cannot wait to dazzle you all with my dairy-product-making abilities in the near future! In addition, one of their cows had a baby while I was there, and they named her Kimberly. Which means I get to watch my little namesake grow into a lovely young lady during the next two years. I’ll be sure to post lots of proud-auntie pictures for everyone to enjoy.

3. Group for the Disabled: My host-mom is actually a part of this group, which aims to help disabled youth in the community. As mentioned, my little brother has down syndrome, but right now there is no school, facility or specialists to help him. I also met two other families with disabled children, one of which is 18 years-old, but he has to go to the Elementary School with his little sister. It is pretty sad, but the group is incredibly motivated in obtaining government and NGO-grants. I believe I’ll be helping them most with their group organization and searching for more funding opportunities. The leader of the group is another of my community partners, and he is wild and fun. He gave me not one, but two tours of the town, introducing me to at least 90% of its inhabitants. Also, his name is George. Not Jorge, but George. And yes, he is from the Jungle (one of the three regions of Peru). I’m sure he and everyone else has heard the joke a million times, but when I mentioned that he is George of the Jungle, everyone laughed hysterically for a good five minutes. “Wow, the gringa has a sense of humor!” I think they love me already…

So now I’m enjoying the last few moments of living in Lima, with my host family, and close to my Peru 13 buds. Next Friday I officially swear in as a Peace Corps Volunteer. The last 9.5 weeks have FLOWN by, which I’m sure the next two years are sure to do as well. I look forward to the challenges and gratifications to come, as well as sharing them with you.
Chao!

Site Placements and Swine Flu

Happy 28th of July to all! Today marks the Independence Day for the great country of Peru. Peruvians certainly know how to celebrate in style, and by “in style,” I mean for a really long time. Why take only one day to celebrate when you could devote an entire week to partying? Businesses have been shut down and schools are closed. Well, schools have technically been closed for a month, but that’s just a lucky coincidence relating to the swine flu. As you must know, the evil swine flu has grabbed the world by its grubby hands and is killing off people before you can say H1N1! Wait, is that not the case? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. But Peruvian newspapers do not quite agree. They would have one think that the swine flu is the worst thing to happen to the world since the birth of traveling flute bands…And the Peruvian people are buyin’ what they’re sellin’. They are also a bit wary of us gringos. Clearly we all packed this epidemic in our suitcases, between our fancy electronics and our Lonely Planet guidebooks. In fact, the Peace Corps staff had to send a letter home with all of us Volunteers to explain to our families that we are all healthy and swine flu-free. We will also be given face masks to wear in the event that they are needed. I cannot wait to rock mine and really freak people out in my town. Speaking of, I need to get back on the real topic at hand: I GOT MY SITE ASSIGNMENT! Beginning August 21st, I will be spending the next two years in the town of San Miguel, in the department of Cajamarca. Cajamarca is in the central highlands of Peru, and to quote my Gringo Bible (Lonely Planet travel guide of course), “Far off the gringo trail, the central Peruvian Andes are ripe for exploration. Traditions linger longer here, with delightful colonial towns among the least spoiled in the entire Andean chain.” Not bad, eh? I have not been to the town, but I have been to another town in Cajamarca. The other business group went to visit San Miguel, and they had some really great things to say about it. I’ll start with what I know, then make some general assumptions to give you all an idea of how fabulous my town is:

• The town is situated at an altitude of over 2700 meters. I’m a coastal plains girl, so this will be quite different. I plan on training for a marathon which is held in July… my poor lungs don’t know what they’re in for.
• Cajamarca is the dairy capital of Peru. This means two things. #1 I will be eating A LOT of cheese for the next two years, and I cannot wait. #2 Clearly, I will be purchasing my own cow.
• The people of Cajamarca still wear the traditional dress; colorful skirts for the women and giant cowboy-style hats for all. The taller the hat, the greater your status within the community. Closer to heaven, as they say! Integration is key, so I will be saving up to purchase my own hat.
• San Miguel has a population of 7,500. I could not locate it on a map. These are two good signs that I may get a parade when I arrive in town. At least I can hope…

Some other important information about my future:

Working Hard for the Money.
I will be taking over for a current volunteer in Peru 9. She works with an association of female artisans that weave textile goods. I hear they make really nice things, so you should all expect some home-made Christmas gifts! I believe she also works with a “lactation” group, helping with the production of cow and goat milk/milk products. In addition, there is a local Institute that has asked for help giving business classes. Looks like I’ll have plenty of work to keep me busy… as I always say, idle hands are the devil’s playground! Okay, I never say that, but I just may start.

L.I.V.I.N.
My new host mom is on the wrong side of 80 years-old… 81 to be exact. I’ve loved all of my grandparents here in Peru so far, so I’m pretty excited about having one for the long haul. My “big sis” is 50, so I have a feeling she’ll be more of the mother-figure. I also have a 15 year-old brother, who I believe has some sort of handicap. I’m not sure if he belongs to the 81 year-old or the 50 year-old. Guess that’ll come out eventually. I’ll be going to visit for a week beginning this Saturday, so I should be able to take some pictures for my next blog post.

Some pictures to enjoy!



My new partners! Three ladies a'weaving...

A local gal I found on google (and nice example of the Cajamarca hat)




I thought you might also enjoy a picture that the other business group took while going to San Miguel. This is a very questionable bridge that the taxi tried to drive across, but his brake line got stuck on a piece of wood before they made it across. I think I jinxed myself when I said I was okay with questionable bridges in my last blog:
(Please also note the angry farmer on the other side. The taxi debacle forced him to wait an hour before he could walk his cow across the bridge. Just another day in San Miguel!)



Also, I am thrilled to present you with the absolute BEST-EVER dog in human clothing photo. I will probably retire this segment of my blog after this one, because it cannot get better than this (at least until I can capture that cunning little guy that wears the Halloween vest). The best part is that this one involves my own dog, Rambo. We had three days of extreme cold here (temperatures dropped below 60 degrees), and my family became concerned that Rambo may catch a cold. The remedy came in the form of my 3 year-old brother’s terrycloth bathrobe, complete with hood. Rambo was not too happy about his ridiculous outfit, but he did survive the brutal cold snap, so all is well...

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…

P.S.

In case you just CANNOT get enough of me/Peru, some of my friends here have fabulous blogs that you may want to check out as well. Obviously, some of our updates will overlap, but they do cover some things that I don't and often include pictures of me (naturally). Plus, they are funnier than me...

http://millamayyo.wordpress.com/

http://jessjoye.blogspot.com/

http://www.stephinperu.blogspot.com/

Let's Hear it for Water!

Before I begin, I must make a quick retraction from a former blog. I quite irresponsibly said that Peru has more than 2,000 types of potatoes, when en actuality they have over 3,000. I apologize for this blatant and disgusting misstatement.

That being said, I know that I just updated less than a week ago, but I’ll be out of commission until next Saturday, so I figured I’d better go ahead and do it while I had the chance. This Saturday we leave for Cajamarca, a Department to the north to perform what is called, “Field Based Training.” As a Business volunteer, I will be in a group of three people, and we will be teaching a four-day business course to a group of approximately 35 high-school students. Did I mention we will be doing this in Spanish? Yeah, that should be interesting. I would like to take this opportunity to formally apologize to the students who have to listen to us butcher their beautiful language and talk to them about balance statements… double whammy. Anywho, it should be great practice for us, so I am actually rather excited. The following week we get our site assignments, for which we are all getting more and more anxious. The other day a current volunteer from Peru 12 (if you recall from previous blogs, I’m Peru 13.. stay with me people) came to give a little educational chat and showed some pictures of his town. He is in the environment program, and most of them are in very tiny, very remote communities. He lives in a town of 300 people smack dab on top of an Ande. He had some incredible stories that make me want to visit, but not live in, his town. The best example: His town got into a fight with a neighboring town over a cattle dispute. There were machetes involved. That’s right: machetes… and these machetes were being thrown. One man took a machete to the back and another got a graze across the skull. My list of things that would cause me to go home now include:


1. Being attacked by a rabid bat; and

2. Being injured by machete, even if only a “graze”


I know I am here for the “experience” and all, but throw me a bone here… I just don’t think I could handle that. I’ll try to find a link to his blog and post it on here. He will clearly have better stories than me… at least I hope. Okay, so back to my life. This week has actually been quite eventful. First of all, we have experienced the fourth day of massive strikes since I’ve been here. The people have been striking for various causes, but the majority of the strikes have been transportation-related. The government raised the fines for traffic violations, such as speeding, running red lights, etc. The people have a serious beef with this and thus have organized nation-wide strikes by all public transportation. Even the good ole mototaxi drivers are throwing their hats in the ring. It is quite debilitating, as most people do not have their own car and rely entirely on public transportation. The result is that schools are closed (except for mine, I’ll get to that momentarily) and nobody can get to work. Way to give it to ‘The Man,’ people of Peru. Apparently the police got involved in the center of Lima and were able to get some transport running, but they definitely didn’t make it as far as my little community. To ensure that the strike would persevere regardless, some rascals in my town littered the streets with giant boulders and tree trunks, thus preventing any ambitious drivers from getting to and fro. The result is that I had to truck it 45 minutes to the next closest town for language class and stay there most of the day. Tomorrow the Peace Corps is going to send some “unmarked vehicles” around to collect us and hope that we aren’t mistaken for public transport, which would clearly result in rocks to the windows and tires. Just another day at the office!


In addition to the strikes, last Sunday was a HUGE day for our little town of Yanacoto. Right now, we only have access to water for one hour, twice a week. Everybody has a tank on the roof that they fill up as a reservoir, but once this is gone, it’s gone. Better plan your icy cold shower accordingly! They would really like to have more frequent access, and after some serious pestering, they were able to get an audience with some big-to-do fellow from the government in Lima. He was invited to a town meeting, and the townsfolk spent weeks preparing. They strung Peruvian flag banners all over, gathered up every musician and dancer they could find (I was awakened at 6:00 am by a 10-piece brass band positioned casually on someone’s roof). They even had a parade to welcome/impress the special guest. Definitely not the typical town-hall meeting in the U.S., which nobody ever attends. Oh no sir, every single person living in Yanacoto attended and stayed all day. Men and women were in their finest dress, and every Mototaxi bore some lovely streamers or balloons. A few little entrepreneurs came out to sell snacks and popsicles to the masses; the whole event had a very carnvialesque feel to it. Although I may have lost something in translation, I think it ended with a promise that they would have more water access by 2011 (may want to hold off on booking your trip to Yanacoto until then). Afterward they celebrated with lots and lots of drinking. I left pretty early, but I could hear the festivities continuing on well into the night, as the brass band competed with the speaker-strapped car for the honor of most obnoxious. I don’t know if I can really make you all appreciate how excited people were about this town meeting without some pictures and videos, so here goes:

The town dressed in her Sunday-Best:

Mototaxi looking all spiffy:

Even my dog Rambo (in the middle) didn't want to miss out on the action:

*** I have two GREAT Videos from this event, but the Internet is questionable at best right now, so I'm going to have to post these at a later date... you must come back to view. All apologies!

Although this blog post is getting a bit wordy, I feel that this a good place for an important disclaimer*. I’ve had more than a handful of people email me on the side and ask if I’m “really doing okay.” Upon looking over my last few blogs, I realize why there is such concern… I’ve certainly been a little more negative than intended. Guess I was just trying to keep my audience entertained! Nobody likes a Debbie Downer, however, so I would like to take a moment and set your minds at ease: I am incredibly happy right now. Although I miss people and conveniences of home, I cannot get enough of this country. My favorite part is clearly the Peruvians themselves; the best way to describe them is that they are transparent. They put on no airs and truly know who they are; it is utterly refreshing to be around. In addition, the more I learn about the Peace Corps, the more fortunate I feel to be a part of it. I have so much respect for my country for starting this program and continuing to fund it. Not only does it have some of the loftiest and noble goals, but it employs the best and the brightest to educate and facilitate its volunteers. I feel so honored to be chosen as a representative of the United States here in Peru, and I will do my best to represent it well. Now, before I climb too far up my high horse, I do want to remind myself and others that I am currently being paid by the government to learn Spanish and gallivant around Latin America. It rocks. Bring on the rabid animals and machetes!

*To the Peace Corps Peru Country Director, Mr. Michael Hirsch: Thank you for reading my blog! I hope I don’t say anything to embarrass you. I would like to take this moment to say that I had already typed the above disclaimer prior to your conversation about keeping blogs “positive,” so I am not doing this out of guilt, I promise! Keep up the great work!

Happy Day After the 4th of July Friends! I don’t know how you celebrated the Independence of our nation, but I celebrated it in typical U.S.A. fashion: hot dogs, mac n cheese and a few cold ones. We couldn’t find Budweiser, but Cristal made for a decent exception. Before you start thinking that the Peace Corps is paying us enough to down fine champagne, I should probably mention that Cristal is a local brand of beer. Needless to say, I always order it because I get a kick out of uttering the words, “A big bottle of Cristal for me, please,” in a casual manner. Tee Hee. So while I’m on the subject of U.S. events, I should probably address the most recent tragedy: the death of National pop icon, Michael Jackson. Peru is very fascinated by U.S. music, movies and fashion, but for some reason they are most keenly interested in the “culture” that occurred in the U.S. between 1982 and 1991. Exhibit A: Scrunchies are EVERYWHERE. You aren’t cool unless you are rocking one scrunchie in the hair and one on the wrist. Extra points if they match your tube socks and Chuck Taylors. Needless to say, the country is traumatized by the death of Michael Jackson. I have been completely unaware of any sort of International news for nearly a month, but somehow I found out about this event within hours of its occurrence. I have been asked no less than 17 times by my host dad what I think about it, how I feel about it, how the other volunteers are coping, if I have spoken to my family in the States about it, etc. etc. etc. My host family does not own a DVD player, yet they own a DVD of M.J.’s greatest hits. We watched it on my laptop last weekend, and now the family is bent on learning the Thriller dance. If they can find time in-between making their friendship bracelets...

Other than MJ’s death and the 4th of July, things have continued without major event here over the last week. I am learning a lot though, and not just about language and business. I feel that I have already gained some serious life skills that will help me for years in the future. I now dabble in the arts of growing lettuce, baking banana bread over open fire and killing a guinea pig without ruining the meat for consumption (kidding…sort of). In addition, here are a few more proficiencies I can cut and paste into the ole résumé:

How to barter.

I learned how to cook my first Peruvian dish, Aji de Gallina, and it was delicious if I do say so myself. As part of my language class, we went to an open-air market in a neighboring town to buy the necessary items. I absolutely love the markets here - you can buy anything from a stove to a live chicken (perhaps that is where my family went a couple of weeks ago…) in a series of hundreds of adjoining stalls. Sarita, my language professor, makes us barter everywhere we go. It is somewhat embarrassing, but I have gotten some good deals that way. The first time she made me do it was in Lima, in a shoe store. I had to go to up to an employee, ask the cost of a pair of shoes, and immediately ask if I could have a discount. I thought the woman would look at me like I had an arm growing out of my head, but she seemed to think this was perfectly normal. She dropped the price by 10 Soles on the spot. Might want to remember that if you ever go shoe-shopping in Peru (I mean, who doesn’t do that?). Bartering in the market was worse, however… I had to haggle with some of the poorest people this side of the Sahara over a can of evaporated milk. I know that this is part of the Peace Corps language curriculum, but I can’t shake the feeling that the language instructors get a kick out of watching us. Dance gringos, dance! As bad as I felt in doing this, I’m quite excited about putting my bartering skills to work in China Town, New York. Those Pucci peddlers won’t know what hit them!

How to perform Karaoke in Peru.

So, I’m not sure if anyone is aware of this, but I somewhat enjoy singing karaoke. Apparently I’ve come to the right place, because Peruvians love it as well. I have found my people. The format here is slightly different, though. You sign up for two songs at a time, and they take the microphones from table to table, in order of where your table is located, so you can sing while sitting at your table. Being the attention-hog that I am, I prefer to stand up, but hey, when in Rome. The Karaoke Bar we went to was called McDonel’s (again, with the American pop-culture) and was fantastic. My friend Jess and I sang a couple of songs in English, which were big hits with the local patrons, but our attempts at songs in Spanish failed miserably. After our first song, they abruptly snatched our microphones away before we could sing the second (Jess swears they even turned hers off). Tough crowd. I now know, however, that the way to the hearts of Peruvians is clearly through American pop songs… bring on the Backstreet Boys.

How to purchase a high-quality bootleg DVD.

The bootleg DVD business is huge here. You can buy 10 movies for less than the cost of a sheep’s head (which you can buy just about anywhere as well), but you need to know which “merchant” sells the higher quality DVDs and which sell the ones that were clearly filmed by a guy sitting in the back of a movie theater holding a 1987 RCA camcorder with a shaky hand. During a fun-filled family bonding day at Tio’s house awhile back, I was treated to a showing of the entire Fast and the Furious series (Los Furiosos y Rapidos). I know a few of you will ask, and yes, it was definitely dubbed in Spanish. Quite entertaining. What was more entertaining, however, was the back cover of the DVD, where it explained that Fast and the Furious 2 & 4 were both nominated for Best Picture Oscars in the U.S. Excuse me? Come again? I must’ve missed those Oscar ceremonies. I was so intrigued by this, that I did some P.I. work myself and casually took a gander at a few other movie cases. Just as I suspected, blatant and hilarious lies. I found some priceless jems, but to save time, I’ll leave you with my favorite… Apparently the movie, “Fireproof,” starting Kirk Cameron earned over $200 million dollars in the U.S. and debuted at #4 upon its release. Betcha didn’t know that!

Well, that's about all for now, but I will leave you with my second installment of, "Dog Wearing Human Sweater." ENJOY!!!