I hope everyone back home had a very Merry Christmas and is about to have a very Happy New Year! If you haven’t already (or even if you have), give someone you love a great big hug :p
I don’t want to sugarcoat my recollection of Christmas this year: being away from home during the holidays flat out sucks. I miss you all very, very, very much! And in this new environment where Christmas music isn’t very popular, I haven’t been able to get that familiar feeling of Christmas spirit or whatever you want to call it when you just know it’s almost Christmas and that knowledge makes you smile. Sun and sand are poor substitutes for a Chicago winter—sometimes I’m very grateful for that fact, but not when I want to feel like Christmas!
It also didn’t help that I got some kind of food poisoning again. I will spare you the details on what it is like to squat in the dirt in a latrine under the heat of the midday sun. On Christmas Eve. Yum.
But that is not to say that I didn’t have any fun this Christmas. I baked cookies a few days before the holiday, which meant introducing my host family to pecans for the first time—I hadn’t realized that people here in the campo have never even seen them, so I let everyone taste-test before I smashed them up with a hammer (no, I don’t have a food processor) and baked them into pecan horns (or Russian tea cakes, for everyone not in my family). The kids also had never smelled vanilla extract, which made for some funny faces. With so much newness, my host family didn’t so much help as stare at me as I baked. They did, however, enjoy eating them afterwards, and now that they have confidence in my baking abilities I’ve been enlisted to help make a cake for a birthday party next month.
In Peru, everyone celebrates on Christmas Eve (“Buena Noche”) rather than Christmas Day (“Navidad”). For lunch that day, I had roasted chicken that was probably fresher than any I’ve had in my life—only a few hours dead! That evening, I went with my host family to a niece’s house, where we had both pork and duck (also killed that morning!), and the traditional hot chocolate and panetón, or a version of the popular Italian fruit cake. Culturally, panetón is pretty random--I’m guessing it migrated to Peru from all of the Italians in Argentina? I’m not a huge fan, to be honest. It reminds me of the texture of cinnamon rolls, except since the cinnamon goo and frosting are replaced by raisins and gummy fruity things, it kind of just makes me miss Cinnabon. Couldn’t they have adopted tiramisu instead? The hot chocolate, however, is excellent—made from melted bars of chocolate instead of powder, with cinnamon and cloves.
We ate all of this by candlelight—not because we were trying to be romantic, but because the power picked an excellent time to go out. As inconvenient as that was, it did allow for the most amazing display of stars that I’ve seen since ASP. Being far from the city, I didn’t expect there to be so much light pollution, but I think it’s intensified by the dust in the air. Without light, however, even all the tiny stars in between the big ones were bright—it was the kind of sky you could get lost in.
By midnight, the lights had come back on. We watched the clock and right at 12 am everyone cheered and hugged each other, and the kids had sparklers and small firecrackers—it sort of reminded me of New Year’s. Supposedly afterwards there was some dancing, but I was tired/still sick and chose to go to bed early.
Christmas day, I watched quite a bit of Mad Men and Serenity, in between taking phone calls from some of my favorite people ever (thank you Padres + Katherine!) I also successfully satisfied my Jell-o craving—delicious! I don’t know why, but I tend to crave Jell-o a lot down here. Thankfully it’s very easy to make, plus there is always someone walking around selling it ready made in the markets or at bus stops.
I’ll end with a random Jell-o related story: I really have only one concrete memory of my great aunt Stell (she died when I was young) and of course it involves Jell-o. I was at a restaurant with a bunch of family and had gotten Jell-o cubes off of the buffet table, which I was swishing around between my teeth (if you don’t know the joy that is Jell-o swishing, I highly recommend making some right now and giving it a try!). Of course my mom told me to stop—it’s not exactly good table manners. But Aunt Stell was sitting nearby and contradicted her—she laughed and said that she liked eating it that way, too. I’m not sure that my mother appreciated her input, but I do know that I still love to swish my Jell-o. I’m such a rebel :p
29 December 2010
14 December 2010
Stinks and Rocks
Stuff that stinks: Feet, Dogs, Long Meetings
Stuff that rocks: Sunshine, Safari Vests, Clearer Sinuses
I’m typing from my new room here in Buena Vista, preparing something for the next time I go to the internet cafe in town. It’s around 80 degrees and intensely sunny, typical for the afternoons here, and there’s a nice breeze through my window. It will cool off this evening, enough to wear a sweater—there’s no humidity to hold in the heat after the sun is gone. It’s gorgeous, but I am a little in denial about Christmas coming up so soon. It won’t be the same! But to cheer myself up, every time I start to miss the snows in Chicago, I try to imagine the sensation of slush seeping through my shoes and socks—I don’t really miss that! And then I remember my ever-darkening tan lines from my daily footwear—Chaco sandals <3—and run to put more sun screen on my feet (and my arms and face and neck while I’m at it!). Instead of slimy frozen socks, I get dirty bare feet with a nice coating of dust that smells suspiciously like Coppertone
The rest of my outfit is also fitting to the Peace Corps, I think. Dirty jeans and a tshirt that doesn’t make any sense—what could be more Peruvian? Near the end of training, we designed and ordered a group tshirt, but the printing company… epic failed. We had attempted to commemorate Panchito the alpaca on the front, but instead got a strange pixilated blob. And last I checked, “Cuepo” has an “R” in it, as in “Cuerpo de Paz.” Oops. On top of that, my official Peace Corps vest, with all of its glorious pockets, was torn when they delivered them, so I just finally got the new one today. I might never take it off--it’s like I’m on a safari, except better because it has my name and “Cuerpo de Paz—Programa de Agua y Saneamiento” embroidered on it. And instead of giraffes, I’m surrounded by livestock and dogs.
Speaking of animals, I never thought I’d say this: Last week, I was bitten by a pig. Yes, a freaking pig (named Jose). It was nosing its nasty nose around under my chair, probably eating dog diarrhea or something, and I accidentally kicked it—it responded by trying to take a hunk out of my calf. Thankfully it did not break the skin, just left a bruise. Battle scars! Even more thankfully, Jose is now tied up—he started out hanging in and around the house because his mother died and my family had to bottle feed him for a while, so he kind of turned into a pet and my host dad had a hard time letting him go. But as it turns out, pigs make terrible pets—not only do they bite, but did you know that pigs can scream? Whenever he’s hungry—squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! If you can’t tell, I kind of hate the thing now, and look forward to some crispy bacon when he’s bigger :p
Now is probably a good time to mention that I live on a small farm outside town, with several pigs, gaggles of geese, ducks, chickens, hens and turkeys and a few cows living amongst the mango and avocado trees. The birds pretty much define the term “free range”—I am glad that after a few days of being here, we got a wall built to separate my room from the rest of the house so that they can’t run in when the door is left open during the day.
We have a few dogs as well—“Cual” and “Porque” belong to my family, and then we also are regularly visited by a host cousin’s new puppy “Estrellita” and another neighborhood dog that I’ve been calling “Bug” because I always catch him eating flies out of the air—I think he’s a little crazy. Another host cousin also brings his dog by sometimes as well, which reminds me—I was bitten by a dog, too.
I was spending the day scrubbing out my room, which included killing a whole colony of spiders living in my curtains. I went outside to go look for the broom to help me reach the spiders on the ceiling, when out of nowhere there’s a large dog leaping for my elbow. Thankfully the dog didn’t break the skin either (another bruise—battle scar #2!) so I didn’t have to rush off to Trujillo for rabies shots, and my host mom can to the rescue brandishing a stick. A few days later, I was surprised to have to assure several Peruvians that it is normal for bruises to turn yellowish-green as they fade—I guess most Peruvian’s have skin that’s just dark enough to make it difficult to see.
Also, in case you care, the sinus issues I was having in my last post due to my apparent allergy to the country of Peru are going away now, hopefully for good this time—I am switching my allergy meds. I picked up the new stuff in Trujillo last weekend when I was there for the monthly regional meeting with all of the other La Libertad volunteers, and it seems to be working. Yay!
I should also mention amongst all of this negativity about attack animals that my host family is wonderful :p
The other day I showed some of them my photos from home. Mom and Dad, you should know that you are both “so young!” and “so happy looking!” and “so pretty/handsome!” Mike and Tommy, you both look just like your parents. And Mike, you better stop growing because you’re “so giant!” and scare my host mom a little bit :p
And yes Babcia, I am getting plenty to eat—my host mom, Azucena, is a great cook. And today, she and Javier, my host dad, were cleaning out their old gas stove and oven so that we can put it into use again for baking Christmas cookies—I’m very excited for that!
Since I am still in my “getting to know the community” phase, I don’t have much to report as far as work, although I am in the process of discussing teaching English during break and painting a world map on the wall at the school. I’ll keep you updated!
Stuff that rocks: Sunshine, Safari Vests, Clearer Sinuses
I’m typing from my new room here in Buena Vista, preparing something for the next time I go to the internet cafe in town. It’s around 80 degrees and intensely sunny, typical for the afternoons here, and there’s a nice breeze through my window. It will cool off this evening, enough to wear a sweater—there’s no humidity to hold in the heat after the sun is gone. It’s gorgeous, but I am a little in denial about Christmas coming up so soon. It won’t be the same! But to cheer myself up, every time I start to miss the snows in Chicago, I try to imagine the sensation of slush seeping through my shoes and socks—I don’t really miss that! And then I remember my ever-darkening tan lines from my daily footwear—Chaco sandals <3—and run to put more sun screen on my feet (and my arms and face and neck while I’m at it!). Instead of slimy frozen socks, I get dirty bare feet with a nice coating of dust that smells suspiciously like Coppertone
The rest of my outfit is also fitting to the Peace Corps, I think. Dirty jeans and a tshirt that doesn’t make any sense—what could be more Peruvian? Near the end of training, we designed and ordered a group tshirt, but the printing company… epic failed. We had attempted to commemorate Panchito the alpaca on the front, but instead got a strange pixilated blob. And last I checked, “Cuepo” has an “R” in it, as in “Cuerpo de Paz.” Oops. On top of that, my official Peace Corps vest, with all of its glorious pockets, was torn when they delivered them, so I just finally got the new one today. I might never take it off--it’s like I’m on a safari, except better because it has my name and “Cuerpo de Paz—Programa de Agua y Saneamiento” embroidered on it. And instead of giraffes, I’m surrounded by livestock and dogs.
Speaking of animals, I never thought I’d say this: Last week, I was bitten by a pig. Yes, a freaking pig (named Jose). It was nosing its nasty nose around under my chair, probably eating dog diarrhea or something, and I accidentally kicked it—it responded by trying to take a hunk out of my calf. Thankfully it did not break the skin, just left a bruise. Battle scars! Even more thankfully, Jose is now tied up—he started out hanging in and around the house because his mother died and my family had to bottle feed him for a while, so he kind of turned into a pet and my host dad had a hard time letting him go. But as it turns out, pigs make terrible pets—not only do they bite, but did you know that pigs can scream? Whenever he’s hungry—squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! If you can’t tell, I kind of hate the thing now, and look forward to some crispy bacon when he’s bigger :p
Now is probably a good time to mention that I live on a small farm outside town, with several pigs, gaggles of geese, ducks, chickens, hens and turkeys and a few cows living amongst the mango and avocado trees. The birds pretty much define the term “free range”—I am glad that after a few days of being here, we got a wall built to separate my room from the rest of the house so that they can’t run in when the door is left open during the day.
We have a few dogs as well—“Cual” and “Porque” belong to my family, and then we also are regularly visited by a host cousin’s new puppy “Estrellita” and another neighborhood dog that I’ve been calling “Bug” because I always catch him eating flies out of the air—I think he’s a little crazy. Another host cousin also brings his dog by sometimes as well, which reminds me—I was bitten by a dog, too.
I was spending the day scrubbing out my room, which included killing a whole colony of spiders living in my curtains. I went outside to go look for the broom to help me reach the spiders on the ceiling, when out of nowhere there’s a large dog leaping for my elbow. Thankfully the dog didn’t break the skin either (another bruise—battle scar #2!) so I didn’t have to rush off to Trujillo for rabies shots, and my host mom can to the rescue brandishing a stick. A few days later, I was surprised to have to assure several Peruvians that it is normal for bruises to turn yellowish-green as they fade—I guess most Peruvian’s have skin that’s just dark enough to make it difficult to see.
Also, in case you care, the sinus issues I was having in my last post due to my apparent allergy to the country of Peru are going away now, hopefully for good this time—I am switching my allergy meds. I picked up the new stuff in Trujillo last weekend when I was there for the monthly regional meeting with all of the other La Libertad volunteers, and it seems to be working. Yay!
I should also mention amongst all of this negativity about attack animals that my host family is wonderful :p
The other day I showed some of them my photos from home. Mom and Dad, you should know that you are both “so young!” and “so happy looking!” and “so pretty/handsome!” Mike and Tommy, you both look just like your parents. And Mike, you better stop growing because you’re “so giant!” and scare my host mom a little bit :p
And yes Babcia, I am getting plenty to eat—my host mom, Azucena, is a great cook. And today, she and Javier, my host dad, were cleaning out their old gas stove and oven so that we can put it into use again for baking Christmas cookies—I’m very excited for that!
Since I am still in my “getting to know the community” phase, I don’t have much to report as far as work, although I am in the process of discussing teaching English during break and painting a world map on the wall at the school. I’ll keep you updated!
06 December 2010
Excerpt from my journal: How does everything work up there?!
I didn’t make it to the colegio (primary and secondary school) this afternoon, spacing out with a book and napping instead [I had a sinus infection]. Damn sinuses, and damn me for surrendering so readily to the excuse! I was a little overwhelmed this morning by how quickly the mayor seemed to move (and especially speak), whisking me off to the Health Post where a blustering nurse methodically rushed through patients, grumbling almost cheerfully about the Post being understaffed. Strange that I from Chicago, USA, should feel overwhelmed by speed in the Peruvian campo, but I suppose I appreciate a slower pace while I’m adjusting and still learning the language.
While I half read, half napped, I was also thinking about how incredible it is that in the U.S. we can dump used water down a drain instead of using it to water the dirt. That we think it’s a novelty to cook over an open flame—I’m not surprised that we enjoy it because for some reason food tastes better coming out of a charred sartén [pan] than a shiny wok on a gas stove, but I am more baffled by our ignorance in finding this to be a novelty. That we rarely wash anything by hand (that’s what dishwashers and mesh laundry bags are for). That we don’t bathe in rivers or out of buckets. I can already feel the shock of returning to the US after this experience creeping up on me—how did things happen this way? Life here is so much more difficult in very basic ways and yet no one seems to notice.
Perhaps the human spirit needs to struggle against something. The easier we make our lives, the more we will invent new plagues to worry us—ironically, these troublesome inventions have become measures of progress: industry, philosophy, culture.
My life is now basically a camping trip—except isn’t that statement kind of insulting? Really my life is now a little closer to that of the majority of people on Earth, and my American mind has the arrogance to compare it to the bizarre way that we deprive ourselves of our easily acquired luxuries and call it a vacation. Like kids playing cowboys and Indians, we sometimes play at poverty.
Meanwhile, somehow everything works! Drains, toilets, gas lines, storm sewers, government people who show up if it breaks. People to hold accountable. Obviously there are plenty of rough edges—things do break, corruption and mismanagement happen—but the rest is smooth enough that we can distinguish the bumps as way out of the norm. We hated Bush for his failed response to Katrina, but when a huayco [land slide] wipes out a village, everyone just quietly invades a new area and crosses their fingers for a deed to the land some day.
I wonder if two years is going to be enough for me to wrap my mind around this.
While I half read, half napped, I was also thinking about how incredible it is that in the U.S. we can dump used water down a drain instead of using it to water the dirt. That we think it’s a novelty to cook over an open flame—I’m not surprised that we enjoy it because for some reason food tastes better coming out of a charred sartén [pan] than a shiny wok on a gas stove, but I am more baffled by our ignorance in finding this to be a novelty. That we rarely wash anything by hand (that’s what dishwashers and mesh laundry bags are for). That we don’t bathe in rivers or out of buckets. I can already feel the shock of returning to the US after this experience creeping up on me—how did things happen this way? Life here is so much more difficult in very basic ways and yet no one seems to notice.
Perhaps the human spirit needs to struggle against something. The easier we make our lives, the more we will invent new plagues to worry us—ironically, these troublesome inventions have become measures of progress: industry, philosophy, culture.
My life is now basically a camping trip—except isn’t that statement kind of insulting? Really my life is now a little closer to that of the majority of people on Earth, and my American mind has the arrogance to compare it to the bizarre way that we deprive ourselves of our easily acquired luxuries and call it a vacation. Like kids playing cowboys and Indians, we sometimes play at poverty.
Meanwhile, somehow everything works! Drains, toilets, gas lines, storm sewers, government people who show up if it breaks. People to hold accountable. Obviously there are plenty of rough edges—things do break, corruption and mismanagement happen—but the rest is smooth enough that we can distinguish the bumps as way out of the norm. We hated Bush for his failed response to Katrina, but when a huayco [land slide] wipes out a village, everyone just quietly invades a new area and crosses their fingers for a deed to the land some day.
I wonder if two years is going to be enough for me to wrap my mind around this.
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