Week One

As many of you know, or should know, I like to write. During my first 10 weeks in training I didn’t have the time to write like I wanted too. I just threw some words into my blog and ran off into my Peruvian sunset skipping and eating Sublimes (the best chocolate candy ever). Since I have more time now than expected, I plan on “flowering” my blogs a little more. Unfortunately for you, this might make them a little lengthier, but due to the fact that I don’t have internet, there will be fewer updates. Ya win some, ya lose some.

To set the scene as I write this, let me explain my surroundings. I am sitting Indian-style on the balcony of my house facing banana trees, bamboo plants, flowers with the most beautiful red blooms I have seen that attract hummingbirds of all sorts and off in the distance is one of the tallest and greenest mountains around. The roads here are dirt so every time a car or bus goes whooshing by, a cloud of dust blows up to “bronze” my skin a little more.

When I have the money and time I plan to buy a hammock for this unused balcony. Well, I take that back. It’s not entirely unused, I share it (yes, I have already claimed it as my own) with a chicken. I have talked with the chicken and I said I would stay at my end if she would stay at hers. That goes for her future chicks too because she laid eggs this morning.
Back to the theme of this particular blog. I am nearing the end of my first week as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Pambarumbe, Piura, Peru. I had written a blog my second day about how things were going, but as I reread it, it seemed more like a pity party, because, well it was. I would rather not make you feel sorry for me because at the time of that blog I was contemplating everything in existence and now I am more tranquilo (relaxed).

My first week didn’t have quite the kick-off like I had wanted and expected. For starters, a few hours before leaving for site I was informed Nannie, my great-grandmother, died. I knew before I left that this was obviously was a possibility being that she was 97 years old, but I tried to keep with the words she left me with, “See you when get back.”

On the way to the bus station to Pambarumbe I was not only distraught, but trying to figure out how to carry 4 bags of luggage that not only weighed more than me, but were bigger than me too, mentally and physically. After cussing some people along the way, sweating like I just ran a marathon and breaking the strap on one backpack, I managed to get there in one piece even though I felt like I was in pieces.
My first night I spent crying and taping pictures to the wall. Having walls of mud with paint slapped on them doesn’t make for an easy hanging process with tape. Every time a picture fell off the wall I cried a little harder like a little piece of me was falling apart. I called it a night by stringing my mosquito net up for security purposes because let’s face it, if any living creature would have crawled in my bed that night, I would already be on a flight back to the States. My mosquito net also gives me a princessy feel too. I mean after all, when I was in 6th grade I had one and little did I know they had actual purposes I would be grateful for 10 years later. Don’t tempt me to die it hot pink. And let’s just say it can be a death trap too…more details on that later.

The next morning wasn’t easy either when I realized even with a new cell phone provider I still didn’t have service. After breakfast I immediately asked where I could get cell phone service and I was told to go to church. I was confused at first because I thought it was more of a command rather than, that’s where the service lies. I don’t have to go directly in the church, but rather a little tree close by.
I have managed to forget another “cherry on top” that I had my first few days at site. This has managed to be the first time I have felt sick. Basically, it feels like someone has a kung-fu like grip on my intestines and at any given moment, they pull them as fast as possible. Now don’t worry, there is no diarrhea or vomiting, but it sure feels like it could happen. Any. Second.

Now you may be thinking, “That poor thing. Why doesn’t she just come home?” Well don’t worry, I thought about it, figured out how I would go about it and then finally decided to sleep on it. I awoke the next morning bound and determined I was going to figure this out and I am happy to say, poco-a-poco (little by little) it’s happening.
I usually don’t like to discuss my religion with other because in my opinion, my personal relationship with God is, well, personal. When questioned, I inform people I have a relationship with God and I am happy with it and that’s all they should be concerned about. But, being as it pertains to the story, I will discuss things a little further so sit back and enjoy this potential one-time event.
Basically God already knows what I need and the question is, do I know? I woke up thinking to myself, “What can I do to get motivated?” and I immediately went to my computer and started watching Joel Osteen. Whether you like him or not, he has been the man to bring sanity to me numerous time when I have trailed off the beaten path. Without going into more details about my history with Joel, let’s just say he gets the job done and well, this time being no different, he got the job done.
I stole this from Eat, Pray, Love because it has the same message. There is an old Italian joke about a poor man who goes church every day and prays before the statue of a great saint, begging, “Dear saint- please, please, please…give me the grace to win the lottery. “ This goes on for months and finally the statue comes to life and looks down at the man with disgust and says, “My son- please, please, please…buy a ticket!”

So I started out my day by buying my ticket. I created my plan, schedule and goal/objectives. For starters this is what I have come up with:
Mission Flaquita: start every morning by going for a run. (not sure if I am spelling flaquita correctly, but it’s what you would call someone who is a teeny tiny person…it comes from flaca which is skinny…add ita to anything and it makes it tinier). A run in the morning not only is healthy, but allows me to be seen in my city to remind them I am their gringa, listen to some music and just enjoy the fresh mountain air.

Mission Shakira: Yes that may sound odd, but I really like her hair, how she dances and her shape. So basically, I am going to have the hair atop my head grow back to its normal color and texture. Being that I haven’t used electrical appliances or had a hair cut in 10-11 weeks, this has already been in the works. For some strange reason now my hair is calm, has golden-like highlights and a little longer. I am hoping to grow it somewhere between the length of not quite a hippie, but riding that fence. It’s also a little curly/wavy these days making me feel more one with Shakira. Also Mission Shakira and Mission Flaquita share the objective of getting into shape. As for the dancing part, well I haven’t figured out how to start that just yet, but I will. I am thinking nighttime dance parties by myself in my bedroom. Laugh if you want, but when I come back to the States dancing and looking like Shakira, you will be jealous. My hips will not lie. (Lee, calm down, I know you hate Skakira, but don’t worry…only the dance moves, body and hair will I have…I can do without the voice and I won’t make you listen to her music…that often. Love you!)
I have gained a tiny bit of weight while in Peru, just to prove a point I guess. Not enough to make a difference with my clothes, but enough to where I find it annoying. Sometimes I think it’s just being bloated from all the rice. I was warned this would happen due to my carbirific diet that includes more rice and potatoes than I can handle. Let’ just say when I return to the Estados Unidos I plan to dance on the grace of Dr. Atkins calling him a liar in as many languages as I can speak.

I have also created a subject to change schedule for each day to help keep my sanity. Around 7-8AM I awake in the morning to my dreaded roosters. Once I roll myself out of bed I work on Project Flaquita by running around the city. I wave and manage to say between strangled breaths buenos días while receiving some very confused looks. I have a feeling their thoughts are something like this, “Why is she doing that if it looks like it’s killing her.” I also received the expected question from a little girl, “What are you running from?” Trying to explain that running is healthy as I look like I could have a heart attack and stroke simultaneously could be a bit confusing to a 3 year old.

After my run I have started welcoming the Peruvian cold showers with a smile on my face and then continuing that smile as I eat breakfast while watching CNN…in Spanish. That’s right folks, CNN rocks it out here and I have told everyone that they have the BEST news in the world and to never ever watch Fox News. (Sorry Republican friends and family, but if you want to change their minds about that you can join the Peace Corps and spread the “word”).

After a breakfast filled with mangos, fresh and boiled bananas and grapes I head to the health post and work a little on preparing for my Community Diagnostic. Other days when the health post was mysteriously closed I went to this darling balcony and read in my book for several hours.
Around 1PM I go to my treasured tree near the church and pray that there is some type of text or message awaiting me. I stay there for an hour making phone calls to friends or just continue my reading. (Take note of this, that if you want to call me, I will do my best to be at my arból favorita waiting to hear a familiar voice with my numerous bars of service)

At 2PM I join my sister for lunch and we watch some type of Mexican TV show called Se Vale. Due to Christmas being in the near future, everyone is wearing Santa hats and there are decorations all around the remind me of the holidays. It’s a strange TV show because there are different types of competitions and people, as the Latin stereotype continues, are overly dramatic. But, I digress because it helps me learn more Spanish.

Thursday’s lunch was a little more special as I spent it eating with my family and my sister’s friends who are around the ages of 13-15. We had that alcoholic mud drink that I had the days I visited and watched American music videos. I was a little thrown off when the 6 year old boy even had the mud alcoholic drink. Oh well, tis life in Peru. After my parents we back to running their restaurant, the girls and I gushed over the Twilight Series and Robert Pattinson. We all cackled and laughed well, like a bunch of 14 year olds. We talked about other shows we liked and many of the girls here enjoy One Tree Hill. I thought I would mention my new addiction to House, expecting they would haven’t a clue and to my surprise it comes on at 7PM and I am going to be on that like a fly on, well you get it.
I should mention that my writing was just interrupted by my sister who just brought me the most giant piece of guava I have seen. Since I live so close to the jungle and the rainy season is upon us, the fruits are plentiful. We have mangos, bananas, guava, granadilla, grapes and more.

Although now I have a schedule and positive thoughts, there are still those negative thoughts I allow to creep in here and there. “You can’t do this for two years! What are you thinking?!” “Why not just go home where the food is good, your bed is comfortable and you have your family, friends and cats?” “All you have to do is pack your bags and call Peace Corps and you are on your way.”Those thoughts are like annoying telemarketers, but I am learning how to hang up the phone as soon as I realize who is calling.

There are two new people who have entered my life since my time in Pambarumbe; my host-grandmother and a dirty little boy.
I don’t want to sound hateful when describing my host-grandmother, but she is a sight to see. She is as tall as a walking stick and weighs about the same. Every day she wears a dirty brown skirt, a white button-up collared shirt and a turquoise sweater over it. Her skin reminds me of wrinkly old dogs, minus the soft looking fur. Her voice sounds like one of those badly dubbed Spanish cartoons and she talks to herself all day. I can hear her outside my window sometimes as early as 6AM, I presume, talking to the chickens. I can’t understand a word she says so when I come into contact with her I manage to spit out, buenos días, tardes or noches (depending on the time of day) and then I runaway as fast as possible. Oh yeah, and she has one eye and approximately 5 teeth.

Today I managed to walk into the bathroom while she was pooping. I panicked not only at the site of such a tiny women basically in the toilet, but at the situation itself. I shouted, lo siento (sorry) and sprinted back to my bedroom. I could hear her in the bathroom from my bedroom, still talking to herself.
The dirty little boy I have encountered I can feel is going to be the dismay of my future. He looks to be about 5 years old and probably hasn’t bathed in the last 2 years. Most likely if we come into close contact from him I will get fleas. He has worn the same clothes every day and never wears shoes. His mom works for my parents at the restaurant and he doesn’t go to school which in return means, he just wonders around all day. The first time we met was when he followed me to my beloved tree when I went to talk with my mom. This was one of those particular bad days where I just needed to talk to my mom in peace. He managed to climb my little tree and shake leaves on me the entire time. He was literally, raining on my parade. One day he splashed water all over me for no reason and almost received a beating from my host dad. I have tried talking to him and asking him questions, but he gives me his mischievous smile and usually runs off. He is going to bring about bad things. I can feel it. Maybe a good bath would make him a little nicer.

After dinner, Etel (my sister) was all about showing me that House played on tv. The best part about it, it was in English AND it was a newer episode. You should know that the verb aprovechar means, “to take advantage of.” We PCV’s always find a way to take advantage of something. We may steal the soap the soap or toilet paper given to us by the hotel or we may make buddy buddy with someone just so we can use their fridge, but it’s aprovecharing. When asked if we aprovechared, the response should always be, “I aprovechared that sh$%.” So when it came to being asked if I wanted to watch house, I aprovechared that.

During this particular episode, Dr. House called someone a jackass. The Spanish subtitles translated it as idiot, which I am sure you know isn’t as strong as jackass. The little dirty boy was in the room and proceeded to run around screaming “Yackass. Yackass. Yackass,” as loud as his lungs would bear. Being that I am the only one who speaks English, I just sat and smiled and reflected on what these two years could bring.
One night, after returning from dinner half asleep I went to crawl into bed and noticed a spider about the size of the heel of my foot. I panicked and didn’t know how to go about killing it since it was so close to my sleeping quarters. I first took a picture and then slammed it with my shoe. When I opened my eyes it was gone. Gone like a magic trick. I searched high and low and all around my bed and nowhere was that freaking spider. Needless to say all ounces of sleepiness were gone and I was left knowing somewhere a giant and now pissed off spider was in my bedroom, most likely very near my bed. I saw the giant sign I made for my bedroom that says “pray” and after laughing at the situation this is how things went: “So yeah, God, um thanks for letting me have my mosquito net up. Thanks for my day and um can you do something about this spider. Preferably prove to me that it’s dead or never let me see it again? Yeah….sorry about cussing the spider earlier…”

God didn’t answer right away, but I presumed we had an agreement of some sort. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, but I am really doubting that with the whole spider situation. I then realized that this mosquito net needs to be lowered so I can tuck it more under my mattress because right now it can be a death trap. I could potentially lock myself in my mosquito net with the bugs I am trying to lock out.
Friday night ended up being somewhat interesting. It started out by my sister, her two friends watching and I watching Twilight. To fast forward a bit, by the end of the movie we had a room full of about 10 people piled in watching in awe. It was pretty cute and it made me feel normal…which is rare here.

Saturday morning I was heading back to civilization…or as others call it, Piura. My family said I didn’t need to buy a ticket I could just hop on in the morning and pay. When the bust finally arrived around 4AM I went to hop on and the guys were motioning me around where the driver was sitting. I had no idea what was happening, but being half asleep I went along with it. My mom pulled out a chair and some guy tossed me up in the air and I landed on the driver…in the bus. The bus was so full of people that the only place for me to fit was front and center by him. Looking at the spot I sat in, for four hours, most people would think it’s the perfect place to sit a bag a fruit. I don’t know the exact width, but according to my apple juice, I can tell you it was a juice box and a half wide. Usually I am in the back and it’s pitch black so I can’t see how close to death I am, but with this seat I could see it coming. I kindly told him he better not kill me because I am very important and those in the USA, Pambarumbe and Chaclacayo would be very upset with him. He said he would do his best and to get comfy because it was going to be a long drive.

Now I am sure I have mentioned that I am reading Eat Pray Love and in the book Liz had a similar moment as to what I was about to experience. Since the book was fresh on my mind, she advised me on how to react. One of the men near the front door muffeled under his breath, “Not too fat for an American.” My response was to blindly stare ahead say to myself, “Not to greasy for a Peruvian man.”

My driver and the other men thought that was the funniest thing ever. My driver replied, “She is already used to dealing with assholes like you!” I smiled and said I had learned a long since living in Peru and I can keep up with the best now. After that I cozyed up to my driver and went to sleep.