THe beginnings of being a volunteer

One thing that I can completely confirm is that beign a Peace Crops Voluunteer is an emotional rollercoaster. The thousands of volunteers before me where not lying on that point. And there can be moments where you feel on top of the world, then completely useless, then blisfully happy for absolutely no reason. One of my prime examples of this is one night I was jsut having a bad night. I had tired to do a lesson plan at the primaria and had failed miserable. The teacher asked me to rpepare a lesson for theater. I made a little play about Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. since I am currently falta my dictionary I left the word Rudolf and Reindeer in English, thinking it would be fine. That notion turned out to be entirely false. I was told it was not in Spanish so we couldn´t do it. Instead I had to revery to Head Shoulders, knees and toes. Feeling hungry and frusterated all i wanted to do was attempt to use the community phone in my house to call my mother. When I asked my sister for help she pulled the Ï´m changing excuse.¨

I know this excuse, I in face have used it about a million times when I want to avoid someone for a solid 15 minutes. When my sister gave it to me i coudl clearly see though her frosted glass door into the fact that she was talkign to her friend and not changing. A that moment I realized how annoying having a younger sister can be at times. Eventually she emerged to help but it turned out that my plan to call my mother was completely foiled because the community phone only took calling cards...that my tienda sold...and was out of....This realization on ly further exacerbated my feeling of gloom but at that moment i looked up in a hufflepuff. For some unknown reason the stars made everything better. A) they were beautiful and B) they reminded me of how extactic I had been when I discovered I had infact stored all my music from my old computer on my hard drive. I had Mariah Carey´s Christmas album and Nas. Clearly things were looking up

My first few weeks in site have been a lot of adjustment. And lets get serious it will be for a while. In the face fo this adjustment, everyone´s favorite question is are you accostomed yet? IO usually say ¨Si¨o ¨poco a poco.¨Then they move on to the weather adn ask if I am accostomed to the cold. To this question I whip out that I am froma much codler place. It always shocks people athat a place exists that is codler than Huancavelica. It´s called Cleveland, Ohio. What I fail to mention in this banter is that I used to have indoor heating and I escaped to California for the last 4 years becuase I loose feeling my feet in anything below 60*.

After being guided around like a blind dog my first two days in site I decided ot be proactivethe next day. I went to the primaria to ask if I could work with the kids during vacation (December-March). The director said that I could if I planned somethign for the 5 children left during the rainy season. (everyone escapes the rain and goes to the coast, lucky me I get to stay!!). When i got back to my puesto I found out that I was not being proactive enough. My socio promptly marched me back for another meeting to plan classes while there was still school left. In 1 hour I went from having to amke a 12 week lesson plan to having 15 hours of calss a week for 4 classes ages 3-13. My invisible teachign experience and moderate language skills did not prepare me for that. I felt like I was doing Teach For America with more ages, less training and in a different language. Bold Move.

Thankfully except for my Rudolf snafoo the lessons have gone over pretty well. I have taught roughly every child ages 6-13 in Cusicancha ¨Head, Shou0lders Knees and Toes.¨ At mometns I severly regret this decision. On a multiple occasions I ahve been asked to sing the sone in the middle of the street...once while walking int eh rain. As least i can remeber all the words. UNlike the time I was asked to sing Christmas songs and ended up jsut repeating the first verse of Jingle Bells 5 times because I didnt remember any of the words.

For the most part I enjoy having the opportunity to teach children. I ahve to admid 5th and 6th graders are not my favorite but there has only been one day that I wanted to jab my eyes out and kill someone. The first Firday I was teaching I had the 5th and 6th graders in the morning and the 1st and second graders in the afternoon. Everything was going swimmingly. I taught Head Shoulder, Knees and Toes and then we went on to sports. Sports quickly devolved into swimming in the river. When I woke up that morning I had not planned on trecking down to the rive, so of course I wore my Sperry´s. I have decided tha tSperry´s are devil shoes in Huancavelica. definatly meant for boats and not mountians. Since I was traveling to the river with 11 year olds they decided to take a path that only limber little 11 year olds can manage, not fully grown, clumsy me. At points I was literally sitting on the ledge, scooting off and trying to find a place to put my tow. I wanted to hide my clumsiness for as long as possible. This lasted for aabout 10 minutes. There was one drop that looked like a hop skip and a jump. the 11 year old went gracefully and fast, so clearly I could to. But then i fell flat on my ass on a sharp rock. This caused quite a commotion amoungst my students. All of the young girls rushed to my aid. I lied and said it didnt hurt at all...all the while thinking how little they knew of my spastic nature.

for the resot of the trip down to the river I had a circle fo 11 year olds around me to ensure my safety. Often there were 2 girls holding on to my hands for support. Although this gesture was sweet, in reality sometimes it was less than helpful. I didnt have my hands free to grab the rocks for balance and at one point I almost sent a girl plummeting into the river when I slipped. After that she moved to the back to be a guard...probably scared for her own life. When we finally arrive to the river bank the girls insisted that I take photos, so I obliged. At one point one of the girls asked if she could borrow my camera. For about 2 seconds I let her, until I realized that I was letting a tween girl walk of with my camera next to a river. Definiton of disaster. As I tried to slide down a rock to touch the water I suddently felt like I was goign to die. Literally. Probably the yogurt I ahd with unboiled milk straight from the cow. AnwyasyI told the girls i was feeling sick so clearly they asked me if I was pregnant. If i had had water in my mouth at that monent i probably would have spit in their face. As time went on it felt more like I would need a crain to lift me back to the school so I decided that river time was over. Also, I had another charla at noon and no watch and had not perfected my sun time telling skills.

on the way back to the school i resisted the urge to crawl, believing that woudl be unprofessionaly. Luckily moving 15 5th and 6th graders is like moving a heard of ADHD flies so I could walk ahead and sit while they caught up. I don´t know if any of you have had to rock climb in Sperry´s while simultanously feeling like you would vomit on someone´s head, but it is less than pleasant. At one point while i was hugging a rock wall i thought to myself "I should join a rock gym when I get back. If i can do this a rock wall will be a piece of cake." WHen we finally got back i found out that my sun time telling skills were completely off and there was still an hour left of class. I had to deal with tween children for another whole hour. So I did exactly what they tell every teacher not to do. I gave them an art project, sat down, put my head on the desk and jsut stared at them while contemplatning my own death. I didn´t have the energy to pretend. Plus all the kids already knew I was sick from a non-pregnancy related illness so why hide it? Even though I epically failed as a teacher in the last hour of school I still managed to get smiles from the kdis and move on to the next charla...Where we did another art activity so I could sit there and critique instead of moving. I felt like vomiting on a first grader woudl be tactless.

Getting used to the Peruvian school sustem and controlling a classroom has been a challange but nothte bitggest obstacle I ahve faced. I Would sat that the food has been my daily befuddlement. As I ahve mentioned before my mother said that I shoudl but my own stove to cook for myself. In my first two weeks in site I did not really have the option to buy one because the ones avaliabe in my site are twice as expensive and half as effective. I had to wait two weeks until I went to Ica City. The moment I was sitting in my health post contemplating how good the rock pile of dirt looked I knew that I had hit a new low. My average breakfast was a power bar and peanut butter, lunch happened anywhere between 12 and 3 in a multitude of locations. I never knew if I was going to eat with the women of my health post, my sister, my mom when she was in town or another woman in the community. Dinner happened most of the time, Unless my mom decided to not have dinner that night. Or jsut pan and cafe. SUUUPPPEERR filling. As a result I became accostomed to a certian level of starvation. The first day I had 3 square meals I thought I woudl explore from fullness.

Im my starvation mode it only rarely occured to me that I could solve my hunger problem by buying food and eating it. Probably becuase I was delusional from hunger and had no cutlurey. In the rare meoment that it occured to me to prepare my own food I would make something edible in my tuberware and eat it with my swiss army knife. I have to say eating oatmeal and tuna off a sharp swiss army knife is probably the safest thign I ahve ever done. At one moment I was watching a televison show called "It´s Always Sunny in Philladelphia" while eating tuna during a rain storm. During this particular episode a character named Charlie, who may or may not be mentalkly handicapt or just far gone from huffing too much glue, was eating cat food in order to fall asleep. At the same moment I was eating suspicious looking tuna that looked like brown cat food becuase I bought the cheap brand, off of a knife while bundeled in a sleeping bag. I felt like I was probably the classiest thing that ever existed at that moment.

This week I now am a proud owner of a stove, cutlery and bulk food so the hunger is less dire. Not that my stove has gass but it´s there. Progress. Almost every day I have managed to have oatmeal except when we are falta the aqua or the luz. Then I´m just fucked. I have managed to go through 3 lbs of Peanutbutter in three months. Good Lord. And now that we are approaching Christmasn I have to eat Paneton every day. What is paneton you ask... mass produced fruit cake with jelly beans and rasins basically. Less than stellar. Sadly now due to the massive quantity I have ingested and the fact sometimes it is my only meal and always my only desert I have grown to like it. I am the girl that once ate chocolate lava cake for breakfast lunch and dinner.

Even in my state of minor starvation I have managed to explore a bit of my site and visit my site mates. Each of my mates live about an hour and a half hike away. The hiking is beautiful, but I have to admit the hike to the site higher than me felt like I had smoked about 75 cigarettes and eaten a bad crab. At one point I wanted a breather so naturally I got on my knees and folded over, only to find out that I was awkwardly close to poop...on both sides...one was human. The only word I would use to define my first three weeks in site would be classy. Clearly. Only a refined gentile woman would perch down next to poop and have no compelling urfe to move for two minutes.

The First Days

I was sitting here trying to write about my first three weeks. I realized that it was just far too much to write about so I decided to start at the beginning. After my swearing in a bunch of us spent the night in a hostel in Lima to celebrate our last night as a group; sadly the Huancavelica 4 were the first people to leave. At first our bosses were trying to get us to leave at 6 in the morning. After some negotiation and down right refusing we got our departure time pushed back to 11 in the morning. A much more tolerable time. Thankfully our regional coordinator met us in Ica, our regional capital to take us shopping and drive us up the mountain the next day. When I say that we went shopping I mean we all bought about 2 shopping carts worth of supplies, pillows, one mattress and general things to go into our rooms. It was absurd trying to fit everything in the car. We were in a Rav 4 and there was no room to breathe. With a mattress on top, 6 large suitcases and about 45 small bags we headed up to the mountain. Sadly my kindle died in the process, but we will get to that later.

Anyways I am eternally greatful that our first venture up the mountain was with our regional coordinator for a multitude of reasons. For starters Ica is one of the more sketchy cities in Peru. When you are walking down the street police will redirect you to a different block, tell you to put away your cell phone or ask why you are going to the market. So had we arrived to Ica sans our regional coordinator I would have not had a clue where to begin my shopping and probably would have been robbed on the cab ride home. and then getting from Ica City to Cusicancha is a rather precarious process. You have to go on a bus to a place called San Celmente, basically get off on the side of the highway, get into a collective up to Huayatara (the closest city to Cusicancha) and hope that when you arrive before 2 that the combi up the hill didn’t decide to leave early when it was full. The long and short of this point is all of us would probably have become stranded, lost, robbed and left on the side of the highway somewhere between Ica and Huancavelica.

Our first stop up was dropping of Christine, one of my fellow Huancavelicans, because she lives on a different road than the rest of the volunteers. Upon dropping off Christine we made a magical discovery that there was a road between Christine’s site and mine. Upon traveling on this road I realized that there was a verrry loose interpretation of the word “road” when describing what was in between my site and Christine. The road was more precarious than any other rad that I had been on to date, but don’t worry I now have been on worse. It really seemed more like a path that a series of 4 wheel vehicles had carved out. There were several times that we had to stop to remove the rocks that were strewn in the middle of the road. I thought it would be a perfect time to sleep because now there was less stuff and I could actually move my right arm, this notion lasted for about 10 seconds. The potholes and divots in the road made it down right impossible to do anything besides clothes your eyes and focus on not vomiting. But eventually we made it to Cusicancha and I am happy to report it was all in one piece.

I had no idea what to expect when I got back. I was arriving a day earlier than I told everyone. I didn’t know if I should expect a welcome ceremony of some kind or I would just be sitting staring off in space letting reality sinking in. I didn’t have a welcome ceremony of any sort but I am happy to report I did not sit by my lonesome staring off into space. My mother met me with a smile, and then said are you building your won kitchen? Straight to the point on that one. I was taken aback a little but she had mentioned it in the past so I couldn’t really be all that startled. When I went to open my room the obstitrice, Daysey, and enfermera, Felly, from my health post swooped in and basically took control of my life. I had been thinking of how to arrange my room but apparently my thoughts were all wrong. For one I thought that I would have to build my own table for the kitchen I had to put in my room. That notion turned out to be entirely false. There was a random table sitting outside my room and Daysey promptly proceeded to wipe in off and drag it into my room. Then Daysey and Felly stood there for a while discussion how my room would be arranged. I attempted to put in my two sense every now and then but rally all I ended up doing was moving my suitcases from one en of the room to another and being told to pick up furniture and rearrange it.

Although it was a little overwhelming to have two 30 year old women deciding my life for me I have to say it was quite helpful to not have to make any decisions upon my arrival and have y room arranged before I even sat down. After rearranging my room entirely and having a brief moment to sit on my bed I was beckoned up to Dayseys room for dinner. A nutritious well rounded dinner of popcorn. Accompanied with a movie…of Daysey’s wedding. Absolutely not what I expected to do on my first night in site.
The next day I woke up without a clue what to do so I headed over to the health post because I didn’t have any other ideas of what to do to fill my time. On my way over to the health post my path was diverted. Daysey and Felly asked me if I was walking down the mountain to where there was cell phone service. I in fact was not at all. I had only been in site for one day, cell phone service was the last thing I was thinking about. I didn’t even have my cell phone on me. But then I was told “ven” so I realized that I had little to no choice in the matter, I was going to go make a call. I had to run up to my room and locate my phone, which I might add was an epically difficult task. I am a champion at loosing phones. I probably loose my phone once if not 50 times a day in the states and I always call my phone in order to find it. Inevitably it’s on top of the refrigerator, in the couch or in some random corner under a pile of stuff.

Now here in Cusicancha I do not have the option of calling my phone when I loose it, I just have to find it. and often I haven’t even touched my phone for several days so my memory of where it could be is basically non-existent. Luckily, I was successful in finding it this time and bajared the mountain to make a call.Calling is a rather precarious feat because you have to walk down the mountain about 30 minutes sit on a rock with service and twist your body to maintain service. At one point my neck hurt so I thought I am just going to sit up for a moment. I moved my neck…and lost service…and had to return to my contorted position. That quickly diminished my desire to maintain long phone conversations or call a multitude of people.

When we went back up the mountain it was close to lunchtime. I was sitting there perplexed in the health post wondering where on earth I would eat lunch since my mom was out of town and my sister was in school. When I was lost in thought Daysey tapped me on the arm and said we are going to eat lunch in my room, go buy a pop. For the umpteenth time I was being told what to do and just following directions blindly, but I was happy to be fed. Monday’s lunch was also accompanied with a movie, but this time it was TheMummy. A movie that I haven’t even thought of in about 8 years. I have to say that watching the movie with Felly was one of the more fantastic experiences of my life because everytime something dramatic would happen, which is about every 5 minutes, felly should shout out “Daysey, Daysey, MIRA!” Even if Daysey was clearly watching there was an arm grab, a comment on how scary it was and a shout. I also had to translate English into Spanish because at random moments the movie had Arabic lines and the subtitiles were in English. I didn’t even realize that the Arabic wasn’t Spanish until Daysey asked me to translate. That was when I realized no one in the room could understand the language being spoken, not just me. and that is probably the first and only time I will confuse Arabic and Spanish.

It’s official!

So its official I am a Peace Corps Volunteer. No going back now. I was sworn in yesterday by the US ambassador in an event that felt a lot like graduation. We all got gussied up, probably the nicest all of us will look for the next two years. There were speeches and niceties exchanged by our country director, the ambassador and student speakers. And then we all stood up when our name was called and made an oath. We said that we would protect the nation against any enemies foreign or domestic. If you ask me this is a little excessive. I feel like the Peace Corps sniped this verbiage from the military. What really is a Peace Corps Volunteer going to do to protect against enemies? A charla about latrines probably. That will show them. And then we had to go talk to all of our families. Awkwardly balancing between saying good-bye to staff, trying to coordinate plans with our friends and speaking in our Spanish to our families. There were some flurried goodbyes to friends, an excess of photos and promises to visit before heading off to Lima for the evening. Don’t worry by an excessive amount of photos I mean there was basically a prom photo shoot in the rose bushes. I think we all wanted proof that we can shower, wear make up and clean up.

These past two weeks I have felt like a chicken with my head cut off running around. It is as if there has been so much to do and yet I reflect on my day sometimes and it feels like I did nothing. I know I actually did things but I didn’t write them down so like hell I remember them. I would tell you a magical story of adventure and joy but the two weeks leading up to swearing in felt strangely routine and slow. None of the trainees really cared to go to class because we all had an idea of what lay ahead. Also our attention spans went down to negative zero. Don’t worry although I wasn’t paying attention to anything I still managed to take some pretty epic wipe outs. Probably because I wasn’t paying attention. One day I was attempting to walk quickly on a slippery floor in Birkenstocks……I should know by now that this is a dangerous idea but I did it anyways. And died. Slipped and fell flat. Managing to smack my arms on the table on the way down to add some emphasis. I was laughing so hard afterwards I could not get up and had to be scooped up off the floor. Then a few days later in class we were playing a game where you had to guess to tune. A clip of a song was played and you had to run up to a set of chairs sit ona balloon to pop it and say the name and artist of the song and the first team to do 2 of three won a point. One time 50 Cent “In Da Club “ and I ran up to say the name of the tune but the balloon popped in my hand. The noise was so startling that I slipped and found myself laying on the floor of the garage. Because you know the natural response to loud noises is to fall down. Im hopeless if I ever get held up by a guy in the bushes. Ill just be laying in the fetal position, they will have to bend down to rob me.

During tech sessions the last two weeks I didn’t even have the effort to doodle. Which is saying a lot because I generally like to doodle over EVERYTHING. I managed to spend far too much money because they gave us our moving in allowance and I naturally thought that the money was meant for chicken and new rings. My goal for the next two years is to become actually financially responsible. A skill I unfortunately don’t possess. Often I just forget to spend money. I used this skill for years to fool my parents into thinking I was good with money. Hate to break it to you mom and dad it’s all a rouse. Even though I was rather irresponsible in a few ways these past two weeks it was definatly worth having the energy to make good byes. I think I will have to sleep for the next 27 years now. See you all when I am 49.

One of the more momentous moments of my life between seeing the top of the mountain and returning to live there was actually getting off the mountain. It was a little difficult because I don’t think that the “combi” was prepared for 4 extra gringos with luggage. So we packed 15 people in a van clearly meant for 12 and ahd all of our bags on the roof. My compatriot Ty had to sit on a woman’s lap. She was moderately over-weight and may not have showered since 1968. The entire way down she was doing rosaries in fear and talking about how there was recently a crash where all 12 people in the car died when the car rolled off the mountain. Really warm and fuzzy things. The road was slightly precarious. Occasionally there would be ditches in the road where there were 2 perfectly placed rocks that a car in first gear could drive over. And once we had to go in reverse on the mountain in order to avoid an accident. And the entire way down there was a beautiful view of 7 inches of road before a cliff of doom. Good thing I was listening to music and completely oblivious to my own surroundings. I am very curious to see what happens to transportation during the rainy season. Because these roads wet sound like death on a platter.

After finally getting off the mountain and making a brief pit stop in Huayatara we got dropped off on the side of the Pan American in Canete. There a brief argument persued between where we should get dropped off, and basically it boiled down to the directions given by our Volunteer Coordinator and the ones suggested by my new host dad. And a language barrier. And the side of the Pan American. Hopefully I didn’t offend him but we decided to go with the ones given by our Volunteer Coordinator. And flagged down a bus that looked like a Mega Bus to get to Sierra Azul. I have never casually flagged down a bus on the side of a high way, let alone a Mega Bus. And then when we got off the bus we were dropped off again on the side of the highway and told to just cross the street. At night. In Peru. With luggage. On the Pan American Highway. With little to no street lights. Supppperrr safe. Once we casually crossed the street we walked along the side of the highway we walked towards a neighborhood that looked like Venice Beach at night with thatched roofs. If you have never been to Venice Beach it looks like a sketchy beach town where you will defiantly get raped, and the Peru version included adobe houses with hay roofs.

As we were walking along we kept trying to find ways to cut into a street that was not the highway but there was a consistent chorus of dogs barking. Ty had recently been attacked by a dog so he was not he was adamant about not going anywhere near dogs. So instead we decided to walk on the off ramp. Next to the sign that said “do not walk here.” We decided to take the sign as a warning rather than a fact and trudge on. Once finding the road we could not find a car and walking 10 blocks to the hostel was not the wisest of options. Finally a combi showed up with 2 lonesome passengers so we boarded. The driver dropped off one person and then decided to do some door to door service and diverge to drop of the remaining passanger. It was at this point that I was 99% convinced we would die. And then I saw a sign that said Punto Azul, to which I responded we are going to a different city, we are defiantly going to die. I was later informed that the hostel was in Punto Azul so this sign was actually a sign of my safety not my death. In case any of you were wondering I didn’t die. Clearly I am writing as we speak. I thought after leaving Sierra Azul that I was going to die again when we decided to drive up the off ramp and on the wrong side of the highway for about a minute or so. Basically what I am trying to tell you is roughly every time I am in a car here I see a bright white light and contemplating my last words.

Anyways now I am a volunteer, I am here in Ica City in a hostel and I am heading up to site tomorrow to live. Actually moving in. today I bought pillows and a lamp to spiffy up my room and decorate. I will have to wait until December 1^st to do anything else. woof. Its strange to think that this time its for real. This is not a test run I am actually going to be living and working in Cusicancha for the next 2 years. It will probably hit me in a week or so when the only person I have spoken English to for 4 days is one of my pillows. Luckily I am going up to the mountain with no Claro cell phone (the only service in my site), no Banco Nacional card (the only ATM), no idea how to get back up the mountain from Pisco or Ica and no real idea about what is going to happen. Fully prepared to protect from enemies home or domestic. Provided I actually know any domestic news.

The Notorious Huancavelica

So I feel as if the time has come to tell you of my adventure to my new homeland Huancavelica. The only way to start this story is to tell it from the beginning. The first day I arrived to Huayatara the “regional capital” of Huancavelica. I use the term regional capital loosely because it is roughly the size of one city block and finding dinner is a STRUGGLE. The views are stunning and the people are great but the amenities...are there……..ish……kinda…..maybe……. The first night we were there we all attempted to find some dinner, which you would think would be an easy task in something considered a regional capital. False.

We started to search for dinner at roughly 6. Keep in mind I am already hungry at this point. I don’t know how many of you have ever seen me hungry but I’m less than pleasant. I once hit my friend in the head with a pillow refusing to let him sleep in until I was fed. And my father can testify to many a meal where I was yelling at him at the beginning of the meal for breathing and asking him pleasantly about his afternoon at work after the salad. My tech trainer Kathrin was already exposed to my pleasant hungry self during our 4 hour hike with ledges and no snacks in Marcawasi so as time wore in our search for food on she gradually moved further and further away from me. I stopped talking because one of the associate country directors was with us and she hadn’t yet been exposed to the joyous wonder that is hungry Katie and I’m not so sure she should be.

Now it is not that there is a lack of restaurants, I would estimate that there are 6 mas o menos its just that for some reason we couldn’t find food. The first restaurant we went to was full of construction workers because they are adding water systems in Huayatara. Lucky for me there are super safe and convenient holes in the middle of the streets. The second restaurant we went to only served cow intestines and soup and since we had taste buds and a vegetarian we decided to take our business elsewhere. The third restaurant said that they wouldn’t be serving food until 7:30. It was only 6:45 at the time, believing we could find food in the near future we moved on. By this time I was leaning on wall in hunger getting my clothes and hair nice and dusty. The fourth restaurant had beautiful banner but upon arrival it looked like we would be eating out of an unclean fishbowl. The fifth seemed promising. We even sat down and placed an order for veggie omelets and tea. And then there was water. Lots and lots of water. It just kept coming. The restaurant was flooding. The owners began to run around with buckets and broom trying to sweep it out. The whole time they kept reassuring us that once the water was turned off we could get our food made. As the water continued to gush towards us and we began to relocate our feet and bags and lose hope. But then there was a glimmer, the owner said that all she needed to do was turn off the water with a key. I was under the impression that turning off the water was a switch, maybe there would be a wrench involved. Nope. There was a chisel.

Her husband came down with a chisel and hammer and started to pound on the sidewalk. The water switch was under 6 inches of concrete in the ground. So not only do they have to turn off the switch they have to dig to the concrete sidewalk to get to it. Realizing quickly that this would delay our meal by about 17 hours we decided to relocate. By this time I was contemplating killing someone or eating my own hand. It was now 7:30. We returned to restaurant number three hoping they would have some food. Turns out there menu was cow intestines and soup. The very same menu we had turned down about an hour before. So finally the thought dawned on someone that there was a restruant right in our hotel. I think I almost killed whoever realized this. Good thing my memory sucks so I can’t hold a grudge against this person. We devoured veggie omelet with hot dogs. Because an omelet is not complete without hot dog. So after the whole eating fiasco we went to bed, oh and I watched Grey’s Anatomy in English. I took it as a good sign. That the episode was actually interesting and that it was on the day before I would meet my future. Also who knew Grey’s Anatomy would become such a large part of my life these past few weeks. Not me.

Dia de Socios, the day we met our community partners and had a little meeting further explaining the Peace Corps to our communities, was off to a slow start. Only 3 socios showed up when it was supposed to start at 8. Unfortunatly they were the socios fro one of the volunteers who had to early terminate. The disappointment in their eyes was so devastating that I almost started to cry. It was devastating to watch their faces. Hopefully they get a super volunteer in Peru 20. Fortunatly the volunteer who early terminated had to before her community met her personally. Sometimes when volunteers early terminate while in community, particularly in the sierras, it can severly damage the communities trust. The other socios strolled in casually between 8:30 and about 10. And several wandered in to say hello and left for breakfast. It was kinda like moving a heard of flies with a fishing net. I’m pretty sure we had to use the community loud speaker to reign them all in.

For about the first two hours of socio day I had no socio. Some of the socios from neighboring villages showed up. Fun fact all the socios were supposed to show up together. They didn’t. Somehow only 2 showed up on the organized bus and the others came as they pleased. So we asked the two semi prompt socios that showed up at about 8:45 where the other socios were, they replied that they were coming separately. I asked about my socio Pablo. To which they promptly responded oh he isn’t coming. I only had one socio on my sheet. For about an hour I was convinced that I had no socio and I would have to treck up a mountain all by myself and show up somewhere and say “hello there assholes you forgot about me where the hell am I supposed to live.” Not necessarily the best introduction. And I would clearly not say that because I would be somewhere between crying from being abandoned and pooping my pants in fear. Luckily a little man came wandering in to claim me. He was the president of the community to stand in my socios place.

At first my president was really sweet but shy. In my broken Spanish I was attempting to communicate with him, which was going moderately less that well. I just kept worrying I was offending him. Until there was a game. This was when his competitive side came out. He started answering questions before my tech trainer was finished. I instantly knew it was fate and he would be a handy asset in the future. After my socio day I began the journey to Cusicancha. Everyone had told me that the journey was about 50 minutes mas o menos. And by 50 min they meant an hour and 50 minutes. I guess they forgot to mention the first hour because the road was paved. At least they were consistant with their lies. The road was a roller coaster in and of itself. It’s a curvy road of doom compete with drop off cliffs and dips in the road that have about two rocks to make sure the car can get over the ditch. You know safety first. And then I arrived to in Cusicancha.

For about the first hour I sat in my health post with some of the staff getting a schedule splayed out and then the bus driver comes rolling into the puesto. He promptly announces that he wants a pop. Absolutely no one in the puesto understood why some random bus driver would be strolling in asking for a pop. Who the fuck wants to buy a guy a pop for nothing. And then he handed me my wallet. With 400 soles, and my id, and my passport, and my credit card, and my receipts, and my keys. Roughly everything would need to function in my life. Good thing I didn’t go to the coast my ass would get robbed blind about 94 times. Turns out Huancavelica is one of the only places in the world where you can drop your wallet and have it returned fully intact. Im pretty sure I used up all my karma points on that one.

So besides the death defying trip up to Cusicancha it is a stunningly beautiful place. There are huge fuzzy yellow and green mountains, a nice and pleasant babbling brook, well really it’s a river but I like the sound of a babbling brook better and about 50 adobe houses with a spattering of colors. The municipality is a bright shade of orange, which bodes well for my love of neon. The roads are mud, rocks, poop and giant holes. Safety first. There are chacras with cows, the random llama, pics and sheep and bright blue skies during the day. At night since we are entering the rainy season there is rain. Obviously. And it gets cold as balls at night. I know this phrase is entirely contradictory but I’m in Peru so there is nothing you can do about it. one of everyone’s favorite topics of discussion is about how it is cold at night. Are you cold? How many pants are you wearing? Do you feel cold? Its cold. That is a general description of the conversations after sunset. And its summer. So I cant wait for winter and it to get colder. One night I was too cold after changing into my spandex and sweat pants that I didn’t attempt my tops. I fell asleep in my tank top, button down, sweatshirt, down jacket and wool jacket in my sleeping bag. I woke up hot as Haiti’s with too many buttons twisted in all the wrong places.

Going on a casual walk you always have to have your hiking boots. A lesson I learned the hard way when I tried to take a casual walk down to the river and ended up eating shit about 17 times. I was wearing my Sperry’s, which I didn’t realize could be a dangerous and terrible decision. A casual walk down to the beach is not just a walk; it’s a trek, down a 45-degree angle of slippery rocks. My Sperry’s were probably the worst decision I have ever made in my entire life because they are a) always untied no matte r how hard I try and b) they are meant for boats not hikes. The next day I decided to be smart and wear my hiking boots, the one day that I didn’t end up hiking up a mountain. So the tird day I thought that I could revert to the Sperry’s. I should just accept the fact I don’t know how to walk and always wear the shoes with the most traction for everyone’s safety. I ended up falling, on one of my socios Pablito. To which he announced I hope you have better shows or this will be a long two years. I do. The key is me remembering to wear them.

My packet about Cusicancha said that it was about 955 people. Well this is a bold face lie its about 200. There are 7 annexos that make up the other 755 people, but those are up to an 8 hour walk away. Also everyone leaves between January and March to escape the rain. Glad I am promptly arriving to sit in it and stare off into space doing interviews with invisible people. My town is in fact so small that one day my mother was out of town to visit some family and about 10 people asked me where I was going to eat lunch and then promptly asked me where I had eaten lunch. I think it was the talk of the town. Don’t worry I got invitired to lunch and managed to eat some cold soup in a kitchen alone. Doing it in style. Also fun fact in my town if someone asks you what are you doing you literally have to tell them what you are doing. I was under the impression that what are you doing loosely translate to whats up. Nope. I got in trouble for that assumption when I responded nothing how are you. My host sister quickly intervened and said “we are sitting.” I thought this was pretty obvious since the woman walked past us just sitting there in silence but I apparently was an poorly educated rude person when I did not state exactly what I was doing. This is going to be a hard rule to remember because when I am walking somewhere I have a tendency to space out and I have a feeling I wont remember to say “im walking” every time I’m doing just that.

Even though I only have one official socio I have met a handful of people that I think will become my new socios. Some who I have yet to see where this relationship will go. There about 6 women in my health post between the ages of im guessing 26-36. They called me a baby so im just guessing on the ages. My two favorites are my obstricion, who went though all of my photos and asked questions about each volunteer she saw and talked to me about America for about 2 hours one day. But I don’t think she will ever come to LA because im pretty sure I told her it was 38* C every day. That’s like 115 *F. And just a lie. Fucking numbers. Can’t ever get them right. My other favorite is my enfermera, who the only way to describe is that over enthueastic gym teacher with sweat suits and a pony tail we all had in middle school. For one she has a gold star on one of her four front teeth and always talks with a huge smile and a head bob. For another after lunch one day she announced that it was nap time and I should take a nap. I didn’t argue. And about an hour late I hear “What is Love?” blaring. I was quite cofused because there is not a discoteca for about 5 hours from my sight. So I wanderd out to investigate and found out it as coming from my enfermera’s room. Also I forgot to mention that I live with my health post in a house has the feeling off a mix tbetween summer camp, dorm, apartment, house and tienda. I will exlain more later, back to the gym teacher. So the music went on for about 4 more hours. It was as if I had transplanted back to the Roxberry in 1990. “Runaway” and La Bouche were also on the play list. I guess it was the laundry playlist. I have never seen someone excited to clean.

Im going to leave you with one final story. It is my most embarrassing story of this site visit and so I decided to save the best for last. You know how I said that I meat some awesome socios like the gym teachers and some others that I was not sure about how it would pan out. This is one of the unsures. One day I had to go to the high school to present myself to the staff and teachers of the school. Prior to this I went to the primary school to present myself. This was a fun adventure because I had to give speech in from of all the teachers and then in from of all the kids. One school actually formed an assembly just for me to talk to them. That was bold. Anyways at the segundaria (high school) the director was out of town and the associate director didn’t have the permission to have me invade the classes so instead he was just going to have a meeting with all the professors. As I was sitting there during lunch with the 5 male teachers, 1 female teacher and my male socio Pablo the topic came up of my marital status. I informed them that I was a senorita (single) to which the female teacher promptly responded oh everyone here is single pointing ot all her male compratiots. And then we divergedinto how I was going to marry a Cusicanchan, stay here in Peru and improve the gene pool (not to sure how I feel about this one). The whole time I was mostly just sitting there not responding because I only got about half the conversation and I just generally didn’t know what to do. And then my associate director casually slipped in the comment Peruvians are good lovers. To which I replied “si” completely not paying attention to the context of the conversation. And then my brain caught up and translated. About 1 minute too late. My mouth just moved faster than my brain. It happens. More often than it should. Realizing that I just agreed to the fact that Peruvians are good lovers in a rom of men hitting on my I just widened my eyes and looked down in my soup in total embarrassment. I caused quite the little ruckus with that comment. Should be interesting to see what happens when I return in 2 weeks.

Staring into Death on a Horse

So this week was field based training. For most of my Peru 18 compatriots that meant that they went to the department they are going to be working in and did projects with current volunteers like building latrinas, doing charlas or if you are the department of Tumbes it means going to the beach. You can never have too much of a tan I reckon. For the Huancavelica 5 we didn’t go to our department, frankly because there is no one there besides one youth volunteer. You cant exactly do field based training if you don’t have a field. So instead we went up to San Pedro and then Marcawasi for our version of field based training. I say our version of FBT because it wasn’t an activity packed week but instead naptime, coffee, a spattering of charlas (educational sessions) and a lot of nerve calming. We learned fun facts like we were placed intentionally and not just dropped in Huancavelica. Also Pisco, my regional capital where I have to go every month for meetings is on the beach. Why this little fun fact was not presented with Huancavelica we will never know. But this means that I can escape the mountains and go to the beach if -3.3*C becomes too much. My town of 955 people and 9 people per kilometer seems a little less daunting when there is a beach and sand boarding in sight.

Although our field based training did not have much building or activities with other volunteers we did get a chance to see a sierra village and mayyyybbbbeeeeeee what life will be like in San Antonio de Cusicancha, Huancavelica. Cause lets get serious who the fuck knows what is in store. For about 12 hours we tried to hunt down the mayor but that was an unsuccessful endeavor. Our tech trainer swung it that this is an example of how we will have to be diligent in order to meet important people, even if we have an appointment. I have a feeling I am going to be reading a whole hell of a lot of books while waiting for someone to show up, or not show up.

Of the three charlas that we did was one with the heath post where we presented nutritional information to a whopping two people. The health workers were attentive but nutrition did not seem to be on their front burner. Probably because there were three of them for about 900 people. A bit of an off ratio. But I did learn that the concept of vegetables is all but non-existent in San Pedro. Ill probably eat a carrot a day in some soup unless I trek 4 hours to find a vegetable or build a green house to grow them. There was a green house at the school so I am thinking that the concept of making a green house may actually be more plausible than hiking for vegetables. I already have to hike down 150 meters to find Internet may as well grow something to make like moderately easier. Hopefully I haven’t inherited my mothers brown thumb.

The second charla we did was an early stimulation session with mothers and several kids. What I really learned was if you have more than 5 kids in a room at a time there is really no way to control them. Especially when they are over 1 years old. A problem I have encountered in both of the early stimulation sessions that I have done is the older siblings intervening and doing the activities in place of the three year old. There is no way to say get out of the way you are 7 years old of course you should be able to hop on one foot in a straight line without sounding like a crazy bitch. So generally I just teach them head shoulders knees and toes or make them draw in a corner. Of course the first time I taught head shoulders knees and toes I pointed at my mouth when I said nose and nose when I said mouth. That a quality way to teach a kids English. Don’t worry the 7 year old called me out on my mistake. Fail. Besides not knowing my nose from my mouth this early childhood stimulation session was successful. The 1 year olds were super into it and I couldn’t confuse them with silly things like language.

The third and final charla we did was with jovenes (young people). And by charla I really mean play time with children. We have the lideres jovenes, basically the student council of the school with us. The kids were between 10 and 15 years old. In true Peruvian fashion we had scheduled a charla for 9 am on a Saturday and one kid showed up at 9:15, several others strolled in around 9:40 and after an announcement at the municipality (basically a community wide PA system) the rest showed up at 10am. Now I say true Peruvian status because many Peruvians self identify Peruvian time which means showing up anywhere between 15 minutes-3 hours after the scheduled time. In this case I think it was a mix of Pervian time and teenageitus. Do you know any teenager that would show up promptly at 9 am on a Saturday? If you do, give it two years they will stop showing up on time, or decided they arbitrarily hate you for turning on the light wrong. When the kids finally did show up we played volleyball and soccer for a while and then moved on to “group building activities” such as the human knot. The youth day felt a lot more like play time than work time, which I was totally down for.

The final day of field based training was when we went up to Marcawasi, pre-Incian ruins buy horse and camped over night. Which sounds awesome and it was. Gotta love some pre-Incian ruins and dead skeletons. And let me just say those skeletons defiantly did not die pleasantly. But anyways this whole indevor was quite fun. I slept in a mere 19 layers of clothing. What were these layers you may ask, 1 bras, 1 sports bra, one tank top, 1 teeshit, one long sleeve, one hoodie, one down jacket, one wool sweater over the down jacket, 2 hats, one scarf, one pair of gloves, one pair of underwear, one pair of shorties, one pir of spandex sports, one pair of spandex, one pair of sweat pants, one pair of short socks, one pair of smart wool socks, one pair of knee highs and one scarf. I looked super nifty. Especially with my headlamp on. My fashion skills have just gone through the roof here in Peru. Oh random tangent on the fashion note. I recently learned that certain colors may mean certain things in the campo. Such as teal may mean I am looking and ready for a husband. Gooood thing I just bought a pair of teal pants. Cant wear tehm unless I want a husband. But back to the camping. It was supes fun expect for the people who had an all night rage in our camp ground. And then were shocked when people called them out in the morning. They said they thought they were just having a conversation. I’m sorry just a conversation does not include music at 5 am. Thank god for headphones.

Actually exploring the ruins and rocks of Marcawasi was about a 4 hour hike which I was totally down for until we reached the point where we had to scale the wall near a ledge. Now I don’t know if you have met me but I’m a liiittttllle clumsy. So im not scared of hights, just ledges. I like to leave a solid 6 feet if not more between a ledge and me because this way if I stumble and fall I fall on the ground and don’t plummet to my death. The hike through Marcawasi showed me some stunning rocks and also tested my ledge fear.

At one point we had to walk in between two rocks up to a ledge to lookout over about a 500 foot drop. There were only 4 feet between me and the ledge. I tried to walk up the two rocks but then I started to shake so naturally I slid down the rock and tried a different route. Our guide Jorge kept calling to me as I was sliding down the rock to go the new route. But the way he was prouncing it sounded like kitty instead of Katie. So my tech trainer Katrine started to shout “here kitty kitty kitty.” This new route up thte the ledge was far less parlous than the first and yet I still found myself walking up the rocks on hand and feet and then at one point hugging the rock and hovering above the ground. 6 inches above the ground. I literally could have extended my left toe and I would have touched the ground. But instead I decided to stay there hugging the rock for a solid minute before it actually sunk in how close to the ground I was. Sadly no one caught a picture of this classy moment because they were all too busy telling me how close to the ground I actually was.

I would like to say the decent downhill by house was a pleasant trip down a country road but that would just be a bold face lie. You thought my life flashed before my eyes when I was hovering 6 inches above the ground. Lies. It flashed before my eyes when I was basically riding on the neck on a pony down a steep rocky narrow cliff and bouncing. I literally almost bounced off the horse and into a rocky pit of cactus doom. Now I’m no dainty feather and so I tried to get on the biggest horse but got turned away and put on a smaller one. My far more dainty friend Ty with a big back pack got put on the fully grown house. I got the munchkin one. All was going well until we reached a 50* downward angle that was rocky. My horse was literally bowing and jumping down the rocks. I thought I was going to fall off. I was bouncing. And dying inside. And figuring out which way to throw myself to cause the least damage. The guide started to tell me that my muchilla weighed too much. I was too panic stricken to also translate that my backpack was too heavy until finally he said Im going to hold this. Then he asked me my weight. Which I also had to translate from pounds to kilograms. I asked if I was too big and he said no your fine just your backpack. Sorry buddy I don’t thin kit was my 5 pound back pack. It was probably my ass in the saddle, which as we were going down hill was slipping further and further up the horses back until I was basically on its neck. When my horses knees buckled while it was standing on the edge of the cliff I decided that I had enough of staring at my own death and so I got off the horse and walked. Nothing like being too fat for a horse to boost your self esteem. I kid, I’m fine. That poor horse on the other hand needs some serious help.

All in all field based training was quite an experience. I mean how many of you can say you have peed on pre Incian ruins. And tomorrow I head off to Pisco and then on Tuesday is the fateful day I actually see Huancavelica. Hopefully my associates show up. Or else I have to find my village by myself. Hmmmmm. Also im really curious about the typography of Huancavelica because I have to climb about 200 meters uphill or downhill to get roughly anywhere. Buns of steele.

The Deepest of Deep Ends

So the big day has finally arrived. The day I found out where I will be placed for the next two years. Walking into the training center on Tuesday you would think a hurricane was hitting and all the dogs were hiding under the bed. Somehow I managed to go out until 1:30 on Monday so I was too hung over to really be worried. Sorry mom and dad. Anyways we had a morning language class that went roughly nowhere. As much as my language facilitator Monica tried, my ADD was in overdrive. After that there was an hour break, where the staff was preparing for a show and the volunteers were staring off into space contemplating their future. Or if you are me, laying on the ground with my feet in the air contemplating ripping out my stomach. I’m classy, I know. And then the show arrived. It was actually super sweet. All the staffers and language trainers dressed up in traditional Peruvian costumes and did dances from the regions we are about to go to. I promise that there will be photos and videos on Facebook. I have the least clue how to put them here sorry about that buddy.

So as this dance went along all of a sudden they announced we were about to find out our placement. They announced this in Spanish. And I was dazed off into space so about 5 minutes after everyone else I realized what was going on and just stood there confused. Luckily they handed us balloons to distract us. And made us dance around. And then colored sashes were handed around. Painfully we had to dance for about 10 minutes after we had the sashes placed on us. I though I was going to kill a bitch. I was so nervous I wanted to throw up. I just sat there hugging my friend Ty who also had a pink sash holding on for dear life. Everyone was frantically counting how many people had pinks, greens, oranges, yellows, blues, reds and purples in a effort to fin out who was going where. And then my regional coordinator came up to me and Ty and announced where we were going. Huancavelica.

Now let me tell you a little story. You remember me telling you bout that three hour lecture with passing out at death- if you don’t you should probably read my last post. You know you want to. Anyways during this lecture My APCD (boss) Emilia presented all the departments, including one new departments. For all the departments she posted pretty green pictures, gave all the statistics and some examples of what previous volunteers have done…except the new one. The new departments picture was of a brown building on a mountain. Emilia discussed the extreme malnutrition and poverty. It was on top of a mountain and it would be hard. You wont be able to do anything for a year. I roughly translated this to Serbia. So in my head there was Hawaii and Serbia. And this new department of Serbian desert, hunger and struggle is none other than Huancavelica. You can imagine my reaction was holy fucking shit. All throughout FBT I kept feeling like I was going to Huancavelica. But when I actually got the pink ribbion, a handshake and a folder to define the next to years of my like I kinda felt blank. I think it was shell shock mixed with holy fucking shit. Keep in mind my picture of Huancevelica is the Serbian desert during the cold war. Not so hot. Also getting handed you life in a folder with a sash is traumatizing no matter what way you cut it. Even if you get your dreamland you still get told what your life to you. It takes a moment to process. Especially when you know everyone is just as clueless as you are. I asked my boss if Huancavelica spoke Quetcha. She said I’m pretty sure it won’t be an issue but if you think you need training in it ask after three months. I just jumped off Mt. Everest and into the middle of the Pacific.

When we found out our site assignments the Huancavelica table was silent. The 5 of us sat there staring at a folder with a Wikipedia print out of where we were going. The staff couldn’t figure out why we were so quiet. It was not that we are sad to go its just we got told all the bad we would experience and not the good till after. And their efforts to cheer us up as a group were not really going over so well. I will have no Internet in my site- it’s about an hour away. No cell service, unless I “walk up a mountain and stand on a rock.” And I’m pretty sure frits and vegetable are hours away. Who knows. I hope none of you were planning on talking to me for the next 2 years. Unless I find that rock. On that note I have a cell phone, you can call me especially from Skype. It might be handy if I told you that number but that’s neither here nor there. And you can text me. if I every buy credit I can text you back but considering I have had this cell phone for 2 weeks now and told no one I wouldn’t start banking on that one really fast. So anyways after we were sitting there will all of the staff giving us hugs and finding out our elevations everyone talked to us individually to see what was going on. They said you guys are the pioneers; we get a chance to do what ever we want, help the people in real need and be legendary. Which I will have you know is my forte. So I’m going to be freezing my ass off on the top of a mountain being legendary. Obviously.

Also fun fact I will be at 3259 meters above sea level. One of the highest Peace Corps volunteers in the world. Raquel, also a Huancevelica volunteer is the new highest at 4100 meters above sea level. Today I said I was going to be at 30,000 meters. A bit of an exaggeration. I will not be floating in orbit. Don’t let me lie to you.

There is one volunteer in Huancavelica right now doing youth development. He has been there for 3 moths and he is apparently known pretty widely already which bodes well. He is called Professor Adrian because he is youth. I have been warned I may be called doctor or nurse because I am health. Didn’t even have to go to med school and I may be getting to be called doctor. Good luck with those 7 years of med school Jessie. That is a preemptive gloat, who the fuck knows what is about to happen. You should all wish my sister Jessie good luck with her med school applications and interviews.

Sooooo yeahhhh I’m about to be breathing super thin air, with no safety net. And 5 other equally as clueless volunteers, forging a trail to a mystery land, should be interesting. I am about to go off to regional field based training. Unlike my compatriots going to already established regions I have field based training here in Lima because there is no region. But I do get to ride a horse up a hill with a helmet. Don’t worry there will be photos. And then I head off to Pisco, Ica- in the department that is next door and is considered our regional capital. After that I get to go to my village, hopefully with my community partner. My one community partner provided they show up. If not there is a plan B. What I don’t know. But some how I will make it to my village. And be the first Peace Corps Volunteer there. In the first class of Peace Corps Volunteers in the department ever. And then I make it back to Lima. From my village. Alone. Shit just got Real.

A Glimpse into Reality

So there has been so much that has happened in my life that I am going to write two entries because otherwise it would too much to handle. If you don’t end up reading this one because you only read the one above it I will no be offended. Neither will this entry. So last week we had field based training in Ancash. It was at about 2,000 meters up so to start off the week we had to take altitude medicine. For most of the volunteers the altitude medicine did nothing. No such luck for me. I felt like a spinning space cowboy in outer space. When I described this symptom to the Peace Corps Medical Officers this they got really confused. I’m pretty sure they thought I was on acid. But when I convinced them I wasn’t they said I should lay off the medication. Permanently. So after a case of the spins and my brain being temporarily removed from my body I slept it off on a 12-hour bus ride.

Field Based training was the first time we really got a chance to be in the campo and get a glimpse into what our lives would be like for the next two years. I have to admit one of the more startling moments, besides sucking some serious wind from the altitude while walking uphill, was running into two volunteers and having a serious cultural moment. One of the volunteers said that she had a song stuck in her head and we naturally started to sing “Last Friday Night.” The volunteer stared at us like we were a dead dog. She had never heard of “Last Friday Night”…or California Dreams… maybe not even Katy Perry. Bold move. This proved to be more traumatic than the three hour lecture that started off FBT. Ya know those good old fashioned lecture with no breaks and a dash of fainting. Who doesn’t love those. Thankfully we ended the day ended early when everyone could see we were on the fast track to death. But now away form the trauma and on to the good.

The first activity we did during FBT was house visits. And I would like to say that the health promoters showed up on time to take us on the visits but that would be a bold faced lie. We had to hunt one down. I’m pretty sure she tried to run away from us. And by pretty sure I mean we saw her run away from us and the current volunteer had to do some serious investigation. But it was 4 vs. 1 so we won. So off we went, three trainees, one coordinator and one less than thrilled heath promoters. The house visits themselves were actually significantly more successful than many of my peers. Some people only got to walk up the mountain, back down again and scower around some bushes. Our bandit group got to see 3 houses of health promoters around town.we even got an apple from an organic garden. Which my friend Monica actually contemplated eating, Until we thoroughly convinced her that eating an apple straight out of an organic garden in Peru would be asking for giardia. Or death.

After hunting some people down and investigating their homes, which were in a different level of repair but for the most part pretty classy establishments we move on to contructing cocinas mejorarada and latrinas. For those of you who don’t speak Spanglish that better cooking stoves and latrines, which is part of the healthy lives initiative. This process of constructing in Peru really shed some light on what my life will be like these next two years. It was a cold hard slap in the face with some concrete and a dash of poop. Because it wouldn’t be the Peace Corps without poop. When we went to build the latrina we showed up to build a woman a free latrine. She didn’t have to attend any educational lectures or change any part of her house. She just had to be. Also I should tell you that we were building a latrine for the same health promoter that made a dash for the hills that morning in an effort to avoid us. Anyways, the family had not build the hole necessary for a latrine…and they weren’t home… critical piece of the puzzle. We had to break in to their house to get the supplies to build their latrine. And then when the family finally showed up the mother seemed less than ecstatic about the fact that we were building a latrine for her. The volunteer we were working with, Kaitlyn, said that she was going to steal the latrine if the family didn’t build the hole within the next two days. I wish the best of luck for her if she attempts to move a solid slab of concrete up a mountain. Besides the lack of Peruvian personnel the building was relatively successful and I felt like a real Peace Corps actually building something. And naturally I was somehow dirtier than anyone else working.

Building the cocinas also proved to be an interesting challenge. The family was supposed to build the base of the cocina before we showed up. When we arrived to the house the husband had built the base to a different stove. But kaitlyn was not there to tell us this. We started on the construction anyways, none the wiser. When Kaitlyn came to check on our progress she realized that we were working on a model that a past volunteer had built in her village. The man whose house we were at asked us some questions about the design. All we were left with was you are building a different design so hmmmmmm…..We were at a standstill about what to do so naturally we just kept chugging along. The whole time we were constructing our language facilitators kept trying to encourage the man- who was little but not my little man- to teach us what he was doing. He said was “aqui”- here, and the “what it’s called.” It was very productive. I feel much more informed. I did however get to throw mud and put some bricks down. And manage to get dirtier than the rest. But then we ran into a problem. It was the cocina design that the husband started to build required a lot more material what what we had. There was not enough “special red mud,” iron rods or bricks. Since there is not much we could do about the lack of iron rods or bricks Kaitlyn sent us to work making more “special red mud.” This mud consists of something red, which I did not get the name of, dried donkey poop, straw, water and sand. I told you there is always poop. So we sat there mixing this great concoction of random stuff and poop, making jokes all the while. The first volunteer in Health to poop her pants and socks was in our group. We were relentless. And I got the mud on my neck. How that happened is anyone’s guess. By the end of the day I also managed to have blue paint on my shirt from our youth activities. I’m the definition of a hot mess.

So the whole training went along swimmingly. I feel like I actually know more and could do some semblance of building, or at least facilitate- which is really my goal. And then Sunday came. Sunday was a day that will be remembered by Peace Corps Health 18 for the rest of our lives. We were told that it would be an epic day and for some reason our pants but not our shoes or shirts would get muddy. There would be tears and epicness. What really went down was hugging. The science of hugging. The hippie Peruvian version of a cultish commune hugging. With blindfold. On top of a mountain. So to get to sed hippie commune of doom we had to go up 1,000 meters on a road that left us about an inch from death and had some curves that a bus should never even think of taking. Ever. The view was breath taking. The people did too many drugs in their youth.

The people were two couples, one young and gringo and the other older and Peruvian. And one young girl, who I would love to have a conversation with in 20 years. The hippies were talking about hugging. Allllooottt. We had to do an exercise where we hugged for 10 seconds, looked into each others eyes for 20 seconds and repeated with increasing intervals of time until we reached a 70 second hug. Also we weren’t allowed to laugh. And something about Sigmound Freud. That the fluent speaker didn’t understand. After sed hugging exercise we had to walk down a hill blindfolded. I would say everyone was concerned for my safety. Ill have you know I made it down in one piece. I did try to hug a thorn bush for a while but other than that I was good. I didn’t try to climb back up the mountain like one of my peers. We also got to do the follow the leader exercise where one person leads blindfolded people around. It’s a good exercise. We did it 7 times. And ended in a group hug. Naturally. And then we got to eat with our hands. Blindfolded. Alone. To celebrate the ritual. And paid 8 soles. For the nutrients. That did not include vegetable. That happened. Luckily Juarez- the capital city- compensated for it. There was banana bread, pizza, wine and fresh brewed coffee. Everything you would need.