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.