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.