I cannot believe it is my last night in Peru. If I get home and realize a nino has stowed away in my luggage, I swear I won't be mad... of course, I would probably have to take him to the hospital for dehydration but I am only dreaming anyway.

I said my tearful goodbyes to the Koreanos, Emile, and Little Amy on Sunday night. I then hopped a bus to Lima with Juliette and the ride was fantastic. Lesson number: whatever number I'm on- if you travel through Peru by bus, move heaven and earth to make sure you're taking Cruz Del Sur. My first ride was on a different bus line because C.D.S: doesn't run from Cusco to Ayacucho... but long story short: the ride was comfy and despite the moist-free jamon sandwich they served, it was the most comfortable I've been on a 9.5 hour trip anywhere, including a car or a plane.

Juliette and I arrived in Lima early yesterday morning and met up with Alex and Big Amy. All four of us were doing a day or two in Lima. We went out for breakfast and visited a huge Pre-Incan excavation site in Lima where we saw the UGLIEST dog I've ever seen. It was a hairless something or other and had an upsettingly striking resemblance to Cuy. It was the first dog I had seen in Peru that I actually WISHED were on a roof :) I know, I'm a bad person.

After the dog incident, we made our way down to the artesenal market in Miraflores where I was surprised to find the exact same souvenirs as they sell on every corner in Lima and about 5 corners in Ayacucho, only these ones were about double the price. Lima is a bit less expensive than San Diego, Cusco is a bit less expensive than Lima and Ayacucho is downright cheap! In Ayacucho, I would haggle prices and once I got my way, I'd do the math, realize what I'd be paying in dollars and, our of guilt, have to tell the senorita; ¨no, I'm just playing, I'll give you 8 (soles). ¨I digress.

After the market, Alex and Juliette went to some parks and to the beach. Amy and I went to downtown Lima and went to the Convento de San Francisco, a huge cathedral that is now more of a museum and catacombs. The catacombs are these underground tunnels and bunkers with the bones and skulls of about 25,000 people who were buried under the church. It was really interesting, really creepy (mostly at the thought of the poor guy whose job it was to go down there and condense the bodies into tidy piles every 10 years, by candle light!), and it really reminded me of every Indian Jones movie I've ever seen. I was totally convinced that the knight with the missing tablet was down there somewhere. It was amazing.

After we came out of the church, we watched kids in the courtyard feed and chase pigeons, did a little shopping, went to the Museum of the Inquisition which was also very... ahem, interesting... and headed back to meet up with Alex and Juliette for dinner. The rest of the night went something like this: tearful good bye to Alex, Karaoke bar for 1.5 minutes, drinks with some backpackers from AL, numerous Sarah Palin jokes from me (crash and burn baby) empty Discoteca, tearful goodbye for Juliette, Amy crashed with me at my hostal, this morning: groggy goodbye for Amy.

Today, I walked ALL over Lima. I had a delicious breakfast of eggs with jamon and a big flavorless crouton the Peruvians like to call: toast. I walked and walked and walked, then, after giving up on finding the Larco museum, took a cab to the Museo de Nacional.

It had lots of pots and jewelry and Inca stuff, but the most interesting part was upstairs. They had an entire floor dedicated to a photographic exhibit (of 22 rooms) which outlined and told the story in graphic detail of the terrorism Peruvians (and foreign nationals) suffered at the hands of communist extremists in the 1980´s and 1990´s. It was important that I saw it because it had a theme of not forgetting the past by ignoring it but almost every picture was reminiscent of the awful feeling I get in my stomach when I look at the photo of the running little girl set ablaze by Napalm during the Viet Nam war.

I took a cab down to the Larcomar which is a group of restaurants and shops and fun places for kids like arcades and two sets of mini rides in the main courtyard. There is a hamburger chain here in Peru that was supposed to be REALLY good. Um... well, I'm not a hamburguese aficionado or anything but let's just say it was no In N Out. I walked back to my hostal after watching the sun set from a nearby park overlooking the beautiful ocean, and took my last icy shower (until January).

So here, I sit, at my hostal wanting to pour my heart out about how grateful I am to my friends, family, and the total strangers who made I Heart Humanity a reality. I especially want to publicly thank Kelly Paul and Wing Lam for being so instrumental in the success of our Ketel One Holiday Party and Fundraiser. Kelly put so much time and energy into making the party a reality and it is because of her and all of I Heart Humanity's donors and supporters that this volunteer trip was possible.

From the bottom of my heart, I am so thankful to all of you who came to the party, bought Gotta Have It clothing at our Poinsettia Elementary Fundraiser, donated to Volunteers for Peace on our facebook page, allowed me to take time off work, accepted my inspirational quotes, gave me rides to the airport, recruited friends and family to attend our fundraisers... read the blog and commented on it or via an email direct to me that you enjoyed it, encouraged me when it got hard... and most of all, to the people who believed in me and believed I could pull this off even when my confidence was lacking.

I am more excited than words can express to bring a group of volunteers on next year's human services project. Whether we decide to help French school children paint a 100´mural, assist the elderly with daily care, or work at Hogar Urpi or another orphanage in another corner of the world, if I Heart Humanity's volunteers next year, get even 10% of the amazing experience and reciprocated love, they too, will come home changed people.

Thank you for helping me to be the change I wish to see in the world.

I love you all,

Laura

 

 

 

Let It Be Love

¨Sorrow makes us all children again.¨- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last night, we volunteers said goodbye to the children and we cried like babies. We had a little party for the boys. We brought candy and played games. The elder Jaime, a young man who lives at Urpi made a cake and wasn't I bummed to discover that the chocolate chips along the bottom of my slice, were in fact raisins.

After the games settled, we did a piñata. Then they lined us all up in front of the boys so we could say goodbye to the group of kids, one volunteer at a time. I told them in my broken Spanish that I would miss them all immensely and I would hold them in my heart. Then I said Ï love you, and showed them the sign for I love you... at which time they all replied, Te Amo, and showed me the same sign. Then tears came which I could not hold back and which I didn't want to.

We went around and gave them all huge hugs. I stole the most from Nicanor, probably 5. I smiled and wiped away my tears and took a few photos of us. I couldn't quite understand the meaning of the look on his face. It was a cross between, ¨It's okay Laura, don't cry¨ and ¨Ï don't understand what is so sad.¨ I suppose he goes through these goodbyes with all of the rounds of volunteers who come and go at Urpi, but I don't always get to do something this amazing and meet such a remarkable group of children who leave such an imprint on my heart.

I gave Jose a few tearful hugs too but after our huge group photos were taken, he disappeared, maybe to the boys' dorm to cry, maybe to wander off and find some smaller boys to pick on. I didn't get to say my final goodbye to Jose, but that may have been for the better: after one particularly tight squeeze from me and me pretending to blow my nose on his sleeve, he asked me when I was coming back. Because I don't believe in lying to children, even when the truth hurts, I replied, ¨No se. ¨(I don't know).

Even Pedro, who never made eye contact with me or any of the female volunteers until the first morning after we took him out for his birthday, came over to me as we were walking out, came over and gave me a huge hug. ¨Adios Amiga,¨he smiled as he spoke and his little teeth showed through his huge grin. Besides the bubbles I hope to blow on my upcoming birthday, I think the memory of Pedro's goodbye will be one of my favorite presents I will have received by early February.

After we said goodbye to the children, we went back to the house. Grande Amy and Alex left last night on a bus for Lima, but I am staying at hostal in the same neighborhood as they are so we are all going to hang out in Lima for a day or two before we all jump our flights back to the US. Since it was their last night, we did a lot of the volunteer good-bye stuff last night too. We each went around in a circle and in private conversations with each other, told each other what we liked most about the other. Thank God for the personal growth seminar Daybreak that I've been involved in for over a year. Through that program, I learned to love completely and unabashedly. I told Song how much I appreciated her positive and fun energy but she started the conversation with ¨our leader!¨and later told me the kids had a special relationship with me. I told Marco how well he connected with all the boys and how appreciative I was to have him on my volunteer team. He reciprocated amazing compliments and ended with telling me that he is a lucky man for knowing me. I loved being able to gush about all the volunteers to their face. I loved how we all cried as we spoke to each other. I loved feeling like I was not only a different woman for who I was to, and what I learned from the boys, but that I am also a different woman for what I have been to, and what I have learned from the 12 brothers and sisters to whom I have become so close in the last three weeks (which now seem like six months).

Because I know I am meeting Amy and Alex in Lima, I left about 30 minutes before the others to run a quick errand in town and head to Magia Negra (our watering hole in town, a bar whose name means ¨Black Magic¨ and features a ceiling full of upside down black umbrellas, cheesy fake cobwebs, thick clouds of smoke from restaurant patrons, amazing dark oil painting on the walls, tunes of Janis Joplin, Pink Floyd, Ozzy Osbourne, and the worst service I've ever gotten at any bar).

I sat there alone, waiting for the group at our usual huge table and let the memories of the boys seep through my pliant mind. There were so many moments I shared with them. So many moments I witnessed in which they lived as adults when thought no one was paying attention. So many times, their 10-year-old selves were as babies, and we had to calm them, as such. I never blogged about our cross-dressing midget dance to the Macarena. I never blogged about their day at the ¨chocolate¨ pool. I never mentioned how the temples of their heads pressed against the outside of my hipbones when they'd greet me with a hug each morning, made me long for a childhood lived in a different world as my own... lived among friends with the carefree yet mature spirits such as these boys. I felt like a tragic Hemmingway, sitting alone at that table last night, fighting back tears as the moments of these last three weeks... last five weeks... played in slow motion in my mind. Laughter, longing, tickling, tears, anger, joy, butterflies, crowns, friendship bracelets whose colors would inevitably run into each other and make crooked rainbows no matter how hard I concentrated.

Tonight I leave for Lima. I am a different woman and I couldn't be more thankful for the gifts that Peru and its people have given me.

Let It Be Love

On my last day in the sun,

the day my lips form their last smile

the day my heart stops beating,

if I have not built a Macchu Pichu

if I have not built a Taj Mahal

if I have built nothing but a house of mud and stone

let me leave one thing behind

and let it be love.

If my legacy cannot forever hover

over the heads of children

cannot spread over the sand,

like a wave which retreats

but always seems to return

to again wet what was once dry

let one essence of me hover

and let it be love.

If all else fades,

my stories, my face, my truth, my courage, my strength, my weakness

and one thing of me remains

to remind the world and its people

that our separateness is an illusion

and for a brief moment in this universe

and I was here

and I was you

and you were me

and I left only one thing behind

to mark this moment

in a history of a billion goodbyes

let it be love.

¨Sorrow makes us all children again. But so does joy.¨-Laura

 

Photos (Finally) and More Lessons from Peru

 

 Laura, dancing with her ninos

Laura, with the boys at Ayacucho City Hall on the 15th anniversary of Hogar Urpi

Laura, with Jose

Laura and Pequeno Amy, dancing in the waterfall

Gabriel, Laura and Rober

 

Special Thanks to Alexandra Thrall, one of my fellow volunteers here who had the foresight (and space in her carry-on) to bring her laptop. She posted these photos on facebook and I was able to steal them and upload them to my blog.

Please know that I have about 500 other photos with more of the kids and the other volunteers and they will be available for viewing on www.ihearthumanity.org within a month or so of my return to San Diego on February 4th... it’s not like my sister’s giving birth within weeks of me getting back... well, I don’t knit so little Baz is just going to have to read this blog someday to know that Auntie Lo was anxiously awaiting his arrival.

So, I guess number 19. is make friends with the girl with the laptop.

20. The cutest that kids ever are (besides when they are sleeping and on Halloween, before the candy high) is hands down at a swimming pool. At the beginning of the project, volunteers were signing up for extra responsibilities. For instance, a few people take some of the boys to dance classes. Pequeno Amy and I signed up for pool duty. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we’d take 4-6 of the boys on a 15-20 minute walk to the community pool for swimming lessons. Because of random illness, etc. there were many days that it was only I who went with the Professora but (except for one infamous day) it was always a blast. I would stare into the beautiful clouds which perched along the scenic mountaintops surrounding Ayacucho. One day, I read from a book I stole from the bookshelf at our volunteer house: Lady Chatterley’s Lover (pretty good, so far). However, most days, there would be at least one boy from Urpi who wouldn’t be swimming, for whatever reason, and usually he would sit next to me or in my lap and we’d thumb through my English/Spanish Dictionary. The last few days, it has been little Gabriel. He finds words he can read in Spanish and sounds them out in English. His accent is adorable and for some reason, even though he doesn’t know what the word means in Spanish, he finds the ones that make my face turn red and I have to pretend to be bored and flip to another page.

The rest of the attendees of the swimming lessons are a smorgasbord of adorable Peruvian ninas who run around in their older sisters swimsuits that sag in the butt and ninos with little Buddha bellies and floaty devices on their arms.  

21. If your Spanish isn’t stellar, just pretend that everything you say is a current happening and never discuss anything that happened more than 30 seconds ago. This is sort of a tip that I high jacked from my co-worker Lindsey who told me that when taking the short answer portions of her college Spanish tests, she commonly states opinions that she doesn’t actually hold, simply because she has the Spanish vocab to profess likings for stuff which she actually finds lame.

Yesterday, all of the volunteers went up and did a presentation for the boys on where they are from, local customs, music, food, how or why they came to Ayacucho. There are six Koreans: Min (m), Marco/Jin (m), Kelly, Jane, Song and Ing-Hay (f). They went up with homemade posters covered in photos they’d printed off the internet of Korean singers and other celebrities and also a map they’d drawn of Korea, divided into North and South. Alex (who speaks the best Spanish of all of us) later told me that their speech was a bit political in nature but heroically described the responsibility they feel to live in a united Korea.

Alex did an overachiever presentation about how her school (Lehigh in CT... she is about as opposite of the other CT girls as you can get though) paid for her to travel to El Salvador and Guatemala on these projects. Alex is my favorite type of girl-from-a-well-off-family. She is a hippie. Her parents own tobacco farms in the Dominican Republic and her stories of comparing and contrasting herself to the rest of her family have us in stitches. She has an awesome heart and a brilliant mind and doesn’t feel satisfied unless she is changing the world.

Alex is one of four Americans: Her, myself, Grande Amy (or just Amy), and Pequeno Amy, who has the same sense of humor as I and enjoys my obscure movie references. Grande Amy didn’t do a presentation but she is a server at Cheesecake Factory in MN and she really connects with the kids well. Pequeno Amy did a presentation about where she lives in Chicago. She is a server there as well and she’s the only one of us smart enough to make Google Images her friend. She held up photos of her actual apartment in Chicago and photos of the Sears Tower (which I wont number as a lesson) but is apparently the 3rd tallest building in the world.

The last two volunteers are Emile(m) and Juliette from France. They are both dolls and they did a great presentation on France, complete with a skit that took place in a French Discoteque and required Juliette to dance like a Go-Go dancer (sans skimpy outfit) and she was really great. They also taught the boys some French phrases like: Hello, My name is..., I am from... There’s was very popular, as well.

I went last. I didn’t go the route of printing photos etc. I stood up and in my pretty-good-for-six-days-of-classes-Spanish, told the children about I Heart Humanity. They were interested and thought it was cool I’d go to so much trouble to hang out with them. I also got amazing footage on my camera at the end, of all the boys in unison shouting ¨Yo Corazon Humanidad¨. 

Before I told them about I Heart Humanity, I explained that I was currently a student at a Universidad in San Diego, studying History... yes, I got my BA in ´07 but this goes back to my hour-ago point that if your Spanish is limited, you never ¨were¨ but only you ¨are¨. I think they got the point. I also told them that I know American Sign Language and that sign language in Peru is different. I taught them to say Te Amo (I love you) in three signs and also on one hand. I explained that the reason on one hand it’s an outstretched thumb, pointer and pinky all represent the first letters of I (the pinky), Love (the thumb and pointer) and You (the thumb and pinky). They were delighted with their new sign and although I have realized that some signs (or gestures, should I say) that are universally understood in America, are also used in Peru... a certain single finger, outstretched... but for the rest of the day yesterday and a few times today, a boy would catch my eye and give me the gesture I taught them yesterday...

I am really very sad that tomorrow night is the last time I will see these children.

Yo Corazon Los Ninos de Hogar Urpi.

Laura 

Feliz Cumpleano Pedrito!
Mood:  celebratory

I’ve also learned in Peru...

16. The @ sign can only be accessed by knowing a series of keystrokes ala the online games my brother (in-law, but I ignore that detail) plays. If you are in Peru, know that the @ sign is ^hold down: ALT and type 6 and 4. It doesn’t seem like a big deal but it took everything out of me to conjure the Spanish I needed once I arrived to be able to type in a new email address, log in to facebook etc. The @ sign is your friend. Print out this entry if you need to go to Peru. Memorize the Cuy entry.

17. Speaking of Spanish, learn these verbs and their conjugations if you come to Peru and you should be set: to have/ to need/ to want/ to pay for/ to know/ to buy/ to ¨can¨ or ¨to be able to¨... poder, but it’s tricky/ to walk

other nouns and phrases: napkin (muy importante!)/ where is the bathroom?/ where is the clinic?/ How much does it cost?/ Jose, that water balloon wont fit up Brayan´s nose, no matter how hard you try

I did know the phrase ¨¿Donde esta la biblioteca? and laughed my butt of when I used it and realized that they use the word ¨libreria¨. Thanks Globalization... then I realized, the libreria is the word for the store which sells school and office supplies and there is, indeed a biblioteca that you can find if you ask ¨¿Donde esta la          biblioteca?¨ but I had forgotten the detail about needing to be able to translate the Spanish answer: go down 2 streets and turn left at the old lady in the ugly hat selling tuna out of a wheelbarrow and it’s next to the building where they are super gluing the caps on bottled tap water to fake out tourists.¨ Blasted! You may have won this one Rosetta Stone CD´s... but there is always January of 2010!

18. Even the shyest of children cannot resist the pull of 10 volunteers crowded around him cheering for his big bubbles. So one of the niños Pedro (I’m not allowed to actually SAY he’s my favorite... but between Pedro, Nicanor and Jose (with whom I finally had my water pump moment about two days in) just might be brothers in America someday... if I can raise another half million dollars through I Heart Humanity... and talk the Peruvian government into changing their minds on their assertion that even if both of a child’s parents are incarcerated for drugs and they wont be released for a decade, the children are better off in the care of strangers and then better off with their fresh from Jail parents who will clearly be very prepared financially and emotionally to care for their now teenaged children... sorry, I digress.

So yesterday was Pedro's birthday. He turned 7. He and his brother Carlos both live at Hogar Urpi. At 6 o´clock about ten of us volunteers took the boys to the center of town to walk around with them and spoil them. The only rule was that we weren’t allowed to buy them clothes (which was a bummer because I’d be hard-pressed to find a piece of clothing worn by any of the boys that didn’t have a rip in it), but that was okay, our combined soles could buy a lot of junk.

Pedro is incredibly shy anyway and has some emotional issues with women. He likes us female volunteers, but was much more connected to the males and unlike the other niños who love to come up and sit next to any of us, hold our hands, put their heads on our shoulders, lay in our laps, and wrap themselves around our legs and sit on our feet when we try to leave, Pedro is much more withdrawn from the women. Accidentally, it was only women who piled into two cabs with Pedro and Carlos yesterday. For a while Pedro walked with his head down and slowly, a little overcome both by the female energy of all of us who were more excited than he was to make the night special for him and by the buzzing energy of the center of town (while resembled the Plaza de Armas in Cusco, but with only 50 shoe shiners instead of 100). We offered to buy Carlos an inflatable toy from one of the vendors to show Pedro we were serious when we said he could choose whatever toys and junk food he wanted. Carlos replied in his adorable Spanish, ¨No, it’s my brother’s birthday. Buy something for him or at least let him go first.¨

Ah... just like my sister and me ;) Pedro picked a Spider Man (they are OBSESSED) and Carlos picked a red Power Ranger. They were both happy with their prizes and as we continued to walk, Pedro’s chin rose a little, and his steps were more steps than dragging his beat up sneakers. We bought them ice cream. Pedro’s was purple and it took him about two bites before his lips and mouth made him look more like a hypothermia victim than a newly 7 niño who’d stolen my heart. Next was popcorn and huge, oversized beach balls which we started kicking around and which made Pedro squeal with delight.

An interesting note about the candy we bought them. These kids have almost no material possessions. The clothes they wear are hand-me-downs from as many kids as can hand down clothes before they are totally un-wearable. (When we took them on a picnic and they played in a pool and scrounged up empty two liter bottles and tied them together with shoelaces to use as floatation devices, they actually took the bottles back to Urpi with them not only because they are resourceful... and unconcerned with saliva-transmitted diseases... and because they have NOTHING that is theirs. When Pedro and Carlos were handed suckers, they shoved them in their pockets. The sucker would have been a nice aperitif before the cotton candy we were about to hand them, but they never know when they are going to receive anything, toy nor treat, so they hoard. Compared to American kids, these boys are showered with candy (as it seems to be the only positive reinforcement they receive for good behavior at Urpi) but Pedro figured he better ration whatever he got because he couldn’t take his allowance and get more.

After the cotton candy, the popcorn (he saved), the ice cream (he got about half of in his mouth), the Spiderman (we tied onto his belt loops), the balloon dog we bought him and Carlos from a clown, I bought them each a cup of bubble solution and blowers... then, the party was on. We all sat around Pedro and Carlos and cheered as they blew bubbles, some huge, some pathetic but each getting cheers and laughter from the volunteers and the boy who was proudly watching and encouraging his brother. Pedro spilled half of his bubble solution on the nice little button down shirt he had changed into at the request of the Urpi staff for his birthday outing. The photos are hilarious. In his purple mustache and half full dixie cup and bubble blower hanging out his mouth, looking like a cigarette and with a shirt full of spilled liquid, Pedrito looked more like a 20 year old college Birthday boy than a little niño on what will be one of MANY birthdays without his mom and dad. As we piled in the cab, we volunteers bounced around alibis we could pull off for why we didn’t bring the boys back to Urpi but instead took them back to the volunteer house to spoil and love on them and spend more time tickling and hugging them... but instead decided, we would get in ridiculous trouble and we had the cab pass our house and head back to Urpi as we tried to hide our frowns from the boys and gave them a couple of last-minute ¨Happy Birthdays¨ and ¨Thanks Carlos for coming with us, you are a good brother¨ and ¨Hasta Mañanas¨. And as we walked back to our volunteer house from Urpi, I wondered if Pedro’s mom was somewhere thinking about her little Pedro and wondering if someone was treating him to ice cream and cheering for his bubbles. I don’t know if she knew it was me, loving her son, last night... on the anniversary of her, giving Pedro to the world, though now the world has to be his mother instead of her. Last night, I knew it was me loving him... and I don’t know if it was enough to make him forget that he and Carlos have only each other now... but his bubbles were amazing and his purple mustache suited him well and the moment will stay in my mind now and forever.

Tuna Suprise

More about what I have learned in Peru...

( a quick side note: many of you have asked for non-Google Images photos. Because there is no such thing as an internet cafe in Peru whose modems accept CD{s, the closest I can get to showing you photos is that I have posted Jo from Cuscos photos on my facebook page. If you are not my facebook friend and you have a profile, please add me as a friend! I can be found as: Laura Harvey in the San Diego network and if you are still having trouble wading through the ten billion Laura Harveys on facebook, search using my email which I will give cryptically here to avoid spam spiders: miss laura harvey at gmail dott comm. I will be happy to add you as a friend and you can see the actual Cuy!)

11. There is no such thing as tall crutches in Peru. Marco twisted his ankle swinging Jaime around and has been bed bound ever since. He manages to hobble in to the common area to hang out and even makes it onto the roof a few times a day for a cigarette. Lucy, our volunteer coordinator who lives in our house with us, scoured Ayacucho for a pair of crutches for Marco today but he is about 6 feet 3 inches and apparently, he is the only tall person in Peru who has ever twisted his ankle because today a little Peruvian man who was adorable and reminded me of Tailor Smurf showed up at our house at lunch time with a tape measure for some jerry rigged crutches for poor Marco.

12. I am falling in love with those boys and I am seriously considering stowing a few of them away in my duffle bag when I come home. I had a dream night before last that it was my last day in Ayacucho and I was saying goodbye and I woke up in tears. I have gotten really attached to the love they exude and the love they soak up from me and the other volunteers. When we play bingo, three or four of them will just lay their heads in my lap or lean against me and ask me to *help* them with their cards. They are always thrilled to see us in the morning and when we walk in, we get accosted. They do not hold grudges, their mostly toothless smiles always warm my heart and they crack me up with their antics... okay, I need to move on before I burst into tears here in the internet cafe. The locals already think I am a crazy gringa for an incident I did not blog about in which I walked the long way home from the center of Ayacucho because it was pouring rain... and I could.

13. Tuna in Ayacucho is dangerous on so many levels. So, there are cactus plants EVERYWHERE in Peru. They have these little yummy fruits on top called tuna. They are the size of small oranges and the women sell them out of wheelbarrows along the streets of Cusco and Ayacucho. In Cusco, Wendy bought some for our group and the vendor sliced the peel back like little jackets and we ate the yummy seedy fruit without touching the outside... well, it is only with the experience of a few days ago that I describe in detail how we DID NOT touch the outside of the fruit. I had not realized that this had been the case and I learned a few days ago the hard way that there is a reason the tuna are sold in their little jackets.

We took the kids for a long hike through treacherous cactus (along a super slippery muddy trail... do not get me started on the gamble adults like to take with the wellbeing and the LIVES of kids here... apparently, it is way jumpy of me to have a problem with the kids going in the pool during a lightening storm. Yo soy una uppety Americana) Well, I spoted a zillion tuna, just like the ones I had tried in Cusco. Only these ones were not in convenient little jackets. Long story short, too late, I know. I grabbed one with my bare hands, got poked a hundred times by these tiny little spikes that are incredibly hard to pull out of hands... and clothes, which I realized only after I had incredulously wiped them all over my shirt and pants. They proceeded to stick me all over my body for the next few days and even now, I have these lovely leper-like spots all over my legs from the *espinas* that I cannot remove for the life of me. I must say I do have a pretty cool Orion layout on my outer thigh that I am pretending is way cooler than being able to sleep at night.

14. No one has change for a 10. Whether you hail a mototaxi for a ride which costs a sole and hand him a 2 sole coin or you enter a store where most wares cost 20-50 soles and hand the proprietor a 10, NO ONE HAS CHANGE. I try to pay for EVERYTHING with a 50 because I get lucky one out of twenty times that I ask and I finally get the coins that allow me to get around.

15. If you seek interaction with other tourists, seek the Irish Pub. This one more applies to Cusco as there is no such thing as an Irish Pub in Ayacucho (there actually is not such thing as a tourist in Ayacucho). We were mostly among Peruvians at the bars and eaterys we went to in Cusco which is curious given the ratio of tourists, but it was in Paddys in the Plaza de Armas, where Mo, Jo and I met the Aussies who had just finished the Inca Trail and had good advice on cafes and amazon adventures, the guy from San Clemente who I chatted with over COLD! beer about OC, and the group of 5 other random people from all over California. I am not saying you should not broaden your horizons once you get to Peru, or anywhere for that matter, but if you see a Paddys Irish Pub, chances are, someone is game there to roll their eyes with you over that ridiculously lame TV show The OC and discuss the traffic situation between San Juan Capistrano and Oceanside.

to be continued...

What Else I´ve Learned in Peru...

6. Bring your own papel de baño. In Peru, there is no such thing as toilet paper in public bathrooms. Toilet SEATS are also scarce but... well, let´s just say I´m coming back with really toned quads. The lack of toilet paper took me by surprise at first but thank god I had learned ¨servilleta¨the spanish word for napkin. 6 1/2. The roll of TP you always bring in your backpack makes for an awesome pillow on a 22 hour busride. Reconize.

7. In Korea, I´m 30. As if a toilet paper pillow isn´t depressing enough, I discovered that in Korea, because the fetus is sacred, a fetus is one year old from the time of conception. Then, they consider you a year older on the New Year´s Day before your birthday. For example, Jin (Marco is his English name) is 30. My BDay is this coming Feb and his isn´t until November, but he was born in ´80 like I was (so he´s already a year older than my USA age because of the fetus situation) and this last New Year, because this is his 30th year, he turned 30. Let me break this down further for you: Marco´s BDay is 9 months after mine but somehow in January, we are the same age and that age is 30. Indeed, Koreans still celebrate their birthdays on their actual birthdays but on New Year´s Eve, everyone turns a year older. I´m down to be a New Year´s Baby every year but I have to admit, I was pretty cranky over the whole´I´m thirty¨thing.

8. Peruvians love ice cream even more than they love pork products. Every corner has a store or a man with a cart selling elado. Ice cream costs between one and three soles (that´s 30 cents to a dollar) and it´s worth every centimo. Thank god for all these steep hills because with ice cream at 30 cents a pop, I may have had to buy two seats on the airplane otherwise.

9. Facepainting superheroes on a crowd of already-rowdy boys is a risky venture. Nuff said.

10. If you´re going to dance under a waterfall and your friend Pequeño Amy reminds you before doing so that the moss is really slippery, listen to her. Yesterday, before the cuy, we went on a BEAUTIFUL hike. We ended up at a goregous waterfall with many tiers. We had to take off our shoes and climb over rocks with Marco and a huge tree branch helping us to not fall into the river and get swept away, but we all made it. Amy and I climbed up a few ¨tiers¨and after taking some pretty (and pretty boring) photos, we decided that the thing to do when you are at the most beautiful waterfall you´ve ever been to and you´re two hours from civilzation in Peru, in a jungle reminiscent of the Colombian set of Romancing the Stone, the only thing to do is to step into the waterfall and dance... My daybreak friends would call it a sort of happy ¨berserk¨but you´d have to drink the Kool Aid to understand. Amy and I danced in the waterfall and didn´t bother to hand off our cameras, the moment exists in my mind clearer than anything I could store on a memory card... as does my memory of ten seconds into our dance, slipping on a green patch of slimy moss and landing on my butt, laughing so hard I could´hardly breathe, and feeling more alive than I had in a long time before I came to Peru.

to be continued...

The Talented Mr. Richie
Mood:  special

 

What I have learned in Peru, so far:

I have learned so much from this country, from its people, from my various roommates, from the grafitti which covers the walls of most flat surfaces in Ayacucho...

1. Inca Kola is neither Inca nor Kola. Discuss. Inca Kola is a frighteningly bright yellow soda sold in Peru which comes in regular and Inca Kola Light. It smells strongly of bubble gum but its flavor is awful and like all soda served in Peru, it is served warm. I have been getting used to room temp soda but (proudly) I will never get used to Inca Kola and (sadly) I am beginning to become one of those people (I used to make fun of) who can not only tolerate room temp water but who actually prefer it.

2. It is not uncommon in Ayacucho and surrounding areas to see dogs barking at you from rooftops. Yes, I said rooftops. There are ten stray dogs for every person here (totally made up stat) and they like to get on roofs and bark at passers-by. The first few times we saw the same dog on the same roof barking at us for days, we were really worried that it was actually stuck. About 15 dogs and one week later, we realized that the dogs climb up the stairs which commonly lead people (or dogs) from peoples front courtyard to their roofs... which also act as porches, meeting places and platforms from which Ayacuchans like to stare at us Chinitos and Gringos... which leads me to lesson #3...

3. It is common in this culture to call people by their appearances, embarassing distinction, or not. For example, because there are VERY few tourists in Ayacucho and the areas within a 2 hour drive that we volunteers have been visiting, people stare; and when they DO actually refer to us, either to our faces or under their breath as we pass in the markets, they have no qualms about calling us gringos. Our Korean friends are constantly referred to as Chinitos, even though they are not from China. At the first orphanage that I worked at in Cusco, there were three girls with the same name... they were called The Tall One, The Little One and the Fat One. Apparently, in this culture (I will call it Peruvian as opposed to Latino etc. as I have no idea how far-reaching it is) they do not have the luxury nor the burden of political correctness.

4. Cuy is not any more appetizing when it comes fried. So today was our one day off per week from the orphanage and we went on our usual trek. More on the rest of the day later, but before our LOOOONG bus ride home, we stopped for lunch at an outdoor park/ community center-type place. They had Cuy on the menu and since I was the only one who had tried it, a few of my daring housemates ordered it. Not the wussy way we had in Cusco, where the girls and I had ordered a single Cuy for everyone to try, knowing we would probably try it and finish our Chicharon. Four or five of my housemates ordered Cuy as their only food. They were braver than I but I was also forced to keep the notion of civilized food in my mind as a relative term. I am not sure what I eat that the Koreanos find repulsive but I am sure it exists. As Jin happily popped guy leg (claw and all) into his mouth, I thought back to our conversation about how he eats dog but only once per year, for a special occasion and how one of my other Koreano friends, Min, eats live octupus, like I had seen on youtube. Like I said, I can call someone uncivilized because they love Cuy but if people get trampled to death during Black Friday sales at Wal Mart, who is calling who uncivilized?

5. There is a universal law that a curious number of patrons at any given Kareoke bar, will leave when drunk people get up to the mic. A week ago we went out Kareoke-ing and it was a blast. For the record, I did not get drunk. I did, however, get up there and bring down the house (okay, just my table) with my superior rendition of Hello, by Lionel Richie. (I am sorry, my quotes and apostraphes are not working.) When our group of 13 or so came in, the place was packed. By the time three of us had gone, the place was half full, by our last song of the night, there were two other tables. I am sure I did not offend the entire room with my spanglish translation of what could arguably be the best song of the 80s whose video features a blind woman making an awful clay bust of Mr. Richie.

to be continued...

Me Gusta Ayacucho
Mood:  celebratory

Things have definitely been better here!! I love the boys, they love me! Today, we face painted and I realized I may have missed my calling as a party clown. I gave the ¨tough kid¨Jose a really cool batman face and he´s totally been warming up to me and the other volunteers. I am happy and bright and that´s all I can write because I have to run to take the boys back to the pool today.

Woo-Hoo!

Laura

Opening New Doorways

So yesterday was a tough day and by the time I got home, I was pretty tired. I had only one more thing to do before I could put my feet up with the other volunteers, play a game of chess with Emile, the Frenchman, or make friendship bracelets with Jin, one of the Koreanos... I just needed to run downtown in a taxi to pick up my laundry. I grabbed Allie, one of the Americanas and we set out. There are two types of taxis here. One is a little ¨toy car¨. It looks like... well... a toy car. The other type is a mototaxi which looks like... if you shrunk a mail truck down about 50% and it only had three wheels, that´s a mototaxi.

We pulled up at the curb of the laundry place. It´s also important to tell you here that people drive like maniacs in Peru. It was worse in Cusco than in Ayacucho but if there are 5 cars on a street driving one direction, and the street is wide enough to hold 5 cars, they all line up like they are racing and they take up the whole street. Once another car is coming toward them or there is a car parked along the curb, they literally play chicken and honk at eachother until one set of cars pulls ahead and the other cars are forced to show up at their destination 3 seconds later. Total chaos.

Allie was closer to the store and I was on the street side. I opened my door instead of sliding over because I know how impatient these cabbies are... are you anticipating what happens next? Because I wasn´t. Just as I was about to step out, I yanked my arm back in the car just quick enough to avoid the mototaxi that was headed for my car door, which then proceeded to plow into my car door and knock the entire thing off. Are you laughing because I wasn´t.

It turns out the door didn´t fall completely off, it just bent completely back so it was flat against the driver door. Then the moto taxi driver who hit my door pulls over and walks up while my cab driver is yelling at me in Spanish that I was supposed to get out on Allie´s side, the mototaxi driver (who I later found out was legally at fault) was asking me for money, I walk around and realize that the cab driver had pulled up about two feet from the curb (as in, the mototaxi driver would have cleared my open door) and I am all frustrated at myself for not getting out on Allie´s side, my cabbie for stopping in the middle of the street and that mototaxi driver because I knew the only reason he was driving so damned close to my taxi was because he could fit... while the door was closed.

Thank God Allie´s Spanish is superior to mine because after about 30 seconds, there were about ten people standing on the curb arguing about who´s fault this was.  Meanwhile, all the cars were honking at the cab parked so far from the curb stopped in the middle of the street, the mototaxi which had lazily pulled in front of it, his passengers, and Allie and I who between arguing with both drivers, her translating my apologies and arguments, were dragging in the trashbags full of clothes our roommates had given us to take to the laundry. The proprietors there kept telling us it was the mototaxi´s fault for sideswiping the car but I felt stupid for opening the street door and I just wanted it to be over.

Finally through Allie, I asked both drivers what they wanted. This isn´t exactly a place where everyone trades insurance and prays people´s necks don´t start aching. The mototaxi guy wanted 20 soles, the cabbie wanted 30. I did the math quickly and realized 50 soles is less than 20 dollars. I reached into my fanny pack, handed the mototaxi driver 20 soles and was extending 30 to the cabbie as he started to walk around the car and inspect it, after which time, he returned and announced there was a dent he hadn´t seen.

It is also important to tell you that the door did, indeed work. It closed and stayed closed and opened from the inside and outside... a little akwardly, granted, like it was trying to smile after novicaine... but it closed! (What? this is Ayacucho, not Newport Beach). When he started wanting more money, I sat on the bench in the laundry and wanted to cry. What a day! Then I started to laugh, because what else was there to do and there wasn´t any way this was going to happen at the end of a really GREAT day where everything had gone right! LOL. So then the cabbie calls the Policia and we wait. I can´t describe what was going through my head right then but it was a mixture of ¨how long from now will I have to wait before this situation becomes a great story¨and the movie Return to Paradise about some Americans that get thrown in a Malaysian prison and face capital punishment over an infraction that in America is a ticket.

The more I thought about those two possibilities, the more interested I was in learning how much money would allow us to forget the whole thing. When the cabbie said: at least 50 soles, I turned my palm to Allie, we came up with 50, I said one last ¨Lo Siento¨and we walked out of there with our laundry and stifled giggles.

When I do the math now, I am satisfied at the outcome of that cherry on my wonderfully sweet day was that regardless of whose fault the entire debaucle was, I basically got out of a car accident that in the states, wouldn´t have been settled for less than $1000, for about $22....

Oh, and this morning, when I got to the orphanage, the few boys who had been giving me trouble yesterday, came up to me and gave me sincere apologies. Not the kind adults make kids give... but sincere apologies... and big hugs... and yesterday was worth it.

Laura

Sigh...
Mood:  not sure

So, it has only been a few hours since my last entry but I think it is time...for an entry that is not as bright and happy-go-lucky as most. Kids are tough. Today was a hard day. I had the experience that I am sure teachers have constantly. I am here, trying to help them, trying to love them, trying to put myself out there to show them that someone cares... and well, they sh*t on it. I dont know if this is just because I am a little homesick and I have not had a Diet Coke or a hot shower in two and a half weeks but today I just felt sad.

I am trying to remember that the boys are just children and not to take their antics seriously, that is what kids do: they test you. They test your patience, they test your love, they test your authority. They do not know what they mean to me, they do not know the sacrifices I am making to be here with them.

Today was hard. Today I am sad... but today I am happy too. This day has been hard but I am learning too. I suppose I did not think I would come home a different woman if it was never hard. The language barrier has been hard, missing my family and friends has been hard, my cot has been hard, but today is really making me grow. Today, I have had to look inside and find compassion when what I really wanted to do was go to the nearest internet cafe and change my flight to now. Today I had to look in the face of an angry young child and smile when I wanted to yell. Today I had to love them through it and I had to love myself enough to find the lesson instead of stomp my feet and quit.

Today has been a hard day but it has been a good day. I took a break from the boys to go for a walk, have some tea, and dry my eyes but I am excited to head back to the orphanage now and play with my niños. I am smart enough to know that when you want to get the most mad is the time they need the most love. But I love me too... so  I am going to finish my tea first... and walk slowly :) 

I had a feeling, Macchu Pichu was not going to be the only mountain that changed me.

Laura