Hi Everyone, Your emails have kept me going, thanks for continuing to write them. I haven’t always written you back, mostly due to the lack of an internet connection, and a well constructed reply which I would rather draft from my laptop than an Internet Café. With that said, this letter was written 2 weeks ago…..
Life as a PC volunteer continues, since arriving in 2005 I’m taking on the status as a seasoned volunteer while the months pass. It’s exciting to help train and guide the newbies when they arrive. (2 new training groups arrive a year). We’ll be expecting “Peru 9” in June, a group of roughly 30, half belonging to a Youth Development program, and the other half, Small Business Management. I may be asked to speak on a diversity panel during their training in Lima to discuss my experiences as a gay man. (I’m currently 1 of 2 “out” volunteers!) Out being a loose term, because I’m certainly not out to everyone, mostly staff and volunteers.
As for work, I’ve become busy.?! The pace however is nothing compared to the American lifestyle. I haven’t completed a full 8 hour workday in months! Hey, I’m not complaining. Since January we’ve (the community that is) have organized a couple of projects/programs to keep the gringo ocupado. We’ve written a grant to fund a training for a water committee, organized a 6 month “clean classroom contest”, recruited local health promoters, completed many house visits, and alongside other PCV’s, we’re planning a boys camp in August. The grant was recently approved by Washington and we should be executing the project during the month of June! What a relief! In addition to this project the local government has decided to finance a $42,000 potable water renovation. After months of meeting with local authorities and pressuring them to act, they’ve come through. And put the money where their mouth is!
I’m committed to staying in Carata until Dec. 5th, which will be my last day and exactly 2 years from the date I arrived. I’m in the process of asking for a replacement volunteer to continue the work with locals, and help sustain specific projects. This is all exciting and terrifying at the same time. The locals are already acting funny about me leaving- 6 months too early! I’m sure it will be a mix of feelings when saying goodbye. The family I’ve met here are irreplaceable. I just don’t want a big party-Peruvian parties are horrible. (Imagine broken beer bottles, bad music and even worse dancing)
Ok, so in the mean time….Before I permanently leave Peru, there’s at least one more vacation I’m planning. A group of us are organizing a 9 day trek in July through the “Cordillera Huayhuash” (pronounced “why-wash”). Cordillera means range in Spanish. This is one of the most well know ranges of the central Andes. If you’ve seen the documentary- Touching the Void you’ve seen Huayhuash. It’s absolutely amazing, although we’ll see snow capped peaks in the distance- we will not be ice climbing! The 165km circuit reaches heights of 6000m and higher. I live at 3200m in Carata. It’s warm during the day, with cold nights all year-round.
We’ll be crossing 5 high passes through turquoise glacial lakes, open valleys, and forests teeming with rare species of plants and birds. (I saw an endangered condor last year on a hike close to this region). Many former PC groups have done this trip-but it is not easy. The altitude and length of the trip is intense. Upon returning, those that I’ve talked to, describe it as a spiritual experience.
I’ve learned a lot about the mountains since living here, but this trip is going to be a challenge. Let me tell you a couple more things before asking questions. We’re renting a guide, porters, and donkeys to carry some of our gear and food. We’re going with a recommended company. Every night we’ll be tent camping. The staff will cook with us. I’m guessing we’ll be a group of 10-12 max. The weather changes frequently, with highs and lows and likely rain. (Although it’s considered the dry season in July, I know it will rain at least once!)
With all of these being said, I need to know:
What’s the most important food to pack? In what quantities?
How much water should I bring? (for my own consumption)
How can we prevent common injuries, altitude sickness, or diarrhea?
What are the necessities that I should include in a med kit?
Aside from the usual tents, sleeping bags, and camping supplies should we rent anything special like rope, tarps, or fire wood?
Since the trip is far enough away, I’ve got time to plan. Your suggestions are welcomed!
P.S. SpiderMan 3 was a waste of money! Great effects, but horrible acting! What happened Toby and Kirsten?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Monday, April 30, 2007
It´s true....WE WENT TO THE JUNGLE
Madeinusa.... I just finished watching it and every thing else on the DVD. What a spectacular film. And proudly madeinperu. So much of the cinematography reminds me of Carata. The music, the landscapes, the adobe homes, even the annoying buzzing a bothersome fly makes when it swarms near.
Mena wants to feed our aging cat poison, to put it out of its misery. But it’s not miserable. Sure, its arthritic bones struggle to climb the wooden shelf and up the wall to walk along the roof beams. But killing the cat and replacing it with a new kitten? De eso no me meto.
It’s been a weird week back to work since having an adventure in the Peruvian Amazon. Let me catch you up to speed- Holly visited- we’ve been friends since 4th grade-
I had a couple of days off for semana santa and knowing that our vaca days are scarce we’ve learned to take advantage of every possible day out of site! So a group of pcv’s were anxious to visit the selva. The original plan was to travel from Chiclayo-Tarapoto-Yurimaguas-Up the Amazon River (for 2.5 days in boat) to the city of Iquitos. Although enticing, that didn’t work out. There was an incredibly good offer to fly- $92 roundtrip Lima-Iquitos.
What a hot city. Your sweat sweats. Accompanying us was another vol, Bryan. We arrived at 130am in the city and checked into the worst hotel you’ve ever seen. Let me retract that….I’ve seen worse, and will continue to encounter far inferior places in my travels.
Bryan and I went out for water- and were greeted by 2 fabulous prostitutes on the street. What do you expect on Monday night at 2am? At least the beer was good at THE YELLOW ROSE OF TEXAS-inevitably the largest attraction for gringos in the city.
Much had been said about Iquitos before the trip. The more people I talked to the better it sounded. Imagine visiting the largest city in the world that is navigable by road. Due to its location in the middle of the Amazon, one must arrive by boat or plane. After seeing the city I understand the buzz. It’s unique in its own way but not very accommodating. Like most Peruvian cities it lacks a lot of infrastructure and personal convenience. The noise levels were obnoxious! Literally brought to new levels. Because cars need to be brought by boat, 99% of the vehicles are “mototaxis”, motorcycles with an extended 3 seat cabin. I affectionately call them “deathtraps” and they are everywhere in Peru but centralized in Iquitos.
Holly and I joked about it being THE LOUDON MOTORCYCLE WEEKEND everyday. When the bikes pilled up at stop lights idle, they created so much noise that any conversation needed to be put on hold until the next moment of relief.
So we ate some good food and took in some of the sites around the city like the Belen market (where hallucinogens like san pedro and iawaska, cocaine and animal parts are sold), and the floating city of Belen. We took a day trip out to a mariposaria (butterfly farm) which was awesome. This ¨zoo¨ is owned by a Peruvian/Australian couple who were totally into saving nature’s animals. A little too much…brings up memories of THE ISLAND OF DR. MONROE. or somethin´. we hung out with monkeys, birds, a giant anteater, large rats, a caupir (sp?), a leopard, and of course many butterflies. I learned a lot about these tiny creatures.
We left on a Thursday morning to stay at Tahuayo lodge on the Tahuayo River a tributary off of the Amazon. It was a comfortable 3 hour ride by speed boat to the lodge. Once arriving we moved into the elevated rooms (given the river level) and met our guide, JT who would take us out for the next 4 days. The meals were excellent, as was our guide, who successfully managed both English and Spanish questions from Bryan, Holly and I. He was willing to help us plan our itinerary from early morning to late night. We went out on hikes, took a swim with river dolphins, spear fished piranha, swung through the canopy on zip line, took canoes out for night trip, had a holistic session with a local shaman, and visited a dry land national reserve. The mosquitos were memorable. luckly we dosed ourselves in spray. the last thing i wanted to bring back was malaria. ps the antimalarial meds aren´t as bad as everyone says..least i didn´t have any wack dreams. only a voracious hunger!
We had a long conversation one night with Dolly the co-owner. She’s definitely the heart of the organization. I completely understand her stories and challenges with the local government over property, regulations, laws and crooked police and judges. As a volunteer in Peru, it doesn’t take long to familiarize oneself with the system. Have it be good or bad!
Their staff really went out of their way in accommodating us for the trip. It won’t go unforgotten. We have many great memories of the few days there, and pictures to last a life time. This region of the country is unlike any other place I’ve visited. The general environment of the lodge sparked my interest in learning about plant and animal species. Lastly, we made some new friends with a group of students and teachers from Seattle. The students we pleasant and respectful to everyone! What lucky high school kids! I wish I had that kind of experience back than!
see the pics!!
Mena wants to feed our aging cat poison, to put it out of its misery. But it’s not miserable. Sure, its arthritic bones struggle to climb the wooden shelf and up the wall to walk along the roof beams. But killing the cat and replacing it with a new kitten? De eso no me meto.
It’s been a weird week back to work since having an adventure in the Peruvian Amazon. Let me catch you up to speed- Holly visited- we’ve been friends since 4th grade-
I had a couple of days off for semana santa and knowing that our vaca days are scarce we’ve learned to take advantage of every possible day out of site! So a group of pcv’s were anxious to visit the selva. The original plan was to travel from Chiclayo-Tarapoto-Yurimaguas-Up the Amazon River (for 2.5 days in boat) to the city of Iquitos. Although enticing, that didn’t work out. There was an incredibly good offer to fly- $92 roundtrip Lima-Iquitos.
What a hot city. Your sweat sweats. Accompanying us was another vol, Bryan. We arrived at 130am in the city and checked into the worst hotel you’ve ever seen. Let me retract that….I’ve seen worse, and will continue to encounter far inferior places in my travels.
Bryan and I went out for water- and were greeted by 2 fabulous prostitutes on the street. What do you expect on Monday night at 2am? At least the beer was good at THE YELLOW ROSE OF TEXAS-inevitably the largest attraction for gringos in the city.
Much had been said about Iquitos before the trip. The more people I talked to the better it sounded. Imagine visiting the largest city in the world that is navigable by road. Due to its location in the middle of the Amazon, one must arrive by boat or plane. After seeing the city I understand the buzz. It’s unique in its own way but not very accommodating. Like most Peruvian cities it lacks a lot of infrastructure and personal convenience. The noise levels were obnoxious! Literally brought to new levels. Because cars need to be brought by boat, 99% of the vehicles are “mototaxis”, motorcycles with an extended 3 seat cabin. I affectionately call them “deathtraps” and they are everywhere in Peru but centralized in Iquitos.
Holly and I joked about it being THE LOUDON MOTORCYCLE WEEKEND everyday. When the bikes pilled up at stop lights idle, they created so much noise that any conversation needed to be put on hold until the next moment of relief.
So we ate some good food and took in some of the sites around the city like the Belen market (where hallucinogens like san pedro and iawaska, cocaine and animal parts are sold), and the floating city of Belen. We took a day trip out to a mariposaria (butterfly farm) which was awesome. This ¨zoo¨ is owned by a Peruvian/Australian couple who were totally into saving nature’s animals. A little too much…brings up memories of THE ISLAND OF DR. MONROE. or somethin´. we hung out with monkeys, birds, a giant anteater, large rats, a caupir (sp?), a leopard, and of course many butterflies. I learned a lot about these tiny creatures.
We left on a Thursday morning to stay at Tahuayo lodge on the Tahuayo River a tributary off of the Amazon. It was a comfortable 3 hour ride by speed boat to the lodge. Once arriving we moved into the elevated rooms (given the river level) and met our guide, JT who would take us out for the next 4 days. The meals were excellent, as was our guide, who successfully managed both English and Spanish questions from Bryan, Holly and I. He was willing to help us plan our itinerary from early morning to late night. We went out on hikes, took a swim with river dolphins, spear fished piranha, swung through the canopy on zip line, took canoes out for night trip, had a holistic session with a local shaman, and visited a dry land national reserve. The mosquitos were memorable. luckly we dosed ourselves in spray. the last thing i wanted to bring back was malaria. ps the antimalarial meds aren´t as bad as everyone says..least i didn´t have any wack dreams. only a voracious hunger!
We had a long conversation one night with Dolly the co-owner. She’s definitely the heart of the organization. I completely understand her stories and challenges with the local government over property, regulations, laws and crooked police and judges. As a volunteer in Peru, it doesn’t take long to familiarize oneself with the system. Have it be good or bad!
Their staff really went out of their way in accommodating us for the trip. It won’t go unforgotten. We have many great memories of the few days there, and pictures to last a life time. This region of the country is unlike any other place I’ve visited. The general environment of the lodge sparked my interest in learning about plant and animal species. Lastly, we made some new friends with a group of students and teachers from Seattle. The students we pleasant and respectful to everyone! What lucky high school kids! I wish I had that kind of experience back than!
see the pics!!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
---catching you up--
Yeah, It’s been a while since I’ve put anything up on here. I am still in Perú. lol What can I say, time seems to escape oneself even in such a remote village like Carata, where everyday seems the same. One of the oldest women in town, Juana Juarez just asked me today what day it was, because for her- there is no difference between today or tomorrow.
Looking back since my last entry<-------I guess I have been a busy man. February’s highlight was going to the Peruvian version of Mardi Gras in Cajamarca (located in central northern Andes). A good size group of Peru 6ers rallied together to celebrate “Carnival” with water balloons and paint. We “ played” just one day, of that weekend, Sunday was definitely a day of rest. Another PCV printed up secret agent t-shirts for all of us to proudly wear as we were literally bombed with balloons and paint in the streets.
Small and large gangs of Peruvian youth paraded through the tight streets with home made drums and instruments, chanting as they doused anyone who looked dry. Meanwhile buckets of water were dropped from rooftops and balconies in the city streets. By the end of the day the balloons were all gone, the attacks seized and we joined the locals, bonded as one, sharing drinks and stories and united as carnival survivors. We marched, sang, and danced to the drum beat until the sunset.
Back to THE CHAMBA! Juan and I worked hard to get our grant written during the month of March. Originally our plan was to write for funds to contribute with the local government in a renovation of Carata’s potable water system. This large infrastructure project was long overdue and definitely needed. But it became publicly known that the municipalidad had decided to plan and finance the project. Excellent! So where could we fit in?
Sustainability-PC always wants us to work within a framework of consistent sustainability and this time I had an idea. surprise!? The municipality would come and direct the locals to rebuild their water system but never planned on actually training a small group in the maintenance of the system. If something broke, who would fix it? Would it stay broken for 20 years until the entire system was renovated again? Probably. But not today.
It sounds so simple but thats the difference between developed and developing countries. A plan for the future needs to be included. How can you expect farmers to maintain a water system or a new bridge, or a school or electrical system if no one teaches them how? Hello. It´s basic people! Lets problem solve before the problems occur!
We had written a detailed rough draft for the project plans-and it was a struggle. As a first time grant writer (in Spanish!) I can visibly see new wrinkles and a more prominent receding hairline on my 26 year old head! Juan was easily the best local to aide in the process but hardly the most ideal counterpart. He was struggling with health problems and not always available when needed. Nevertheless, given the structure of the application, 99% of the locals wouldn’t have been able to sit and help me write the 30 page document. Remember that more than 50% didn’t finish elementary school. Reading levels are extremely basic. It’s a miracle that Juan could do as much as he did.
I guess I can put my finger it…I didn’t write much on here in March because I was writing so much everywhere else! The last thing I wanted to do was open another word document!
Camp ALMA has been moving along-slowly. We’ve gotten together a couple of times collectively as volunteers to plan the 3 day retreat. And although it was originally going to be for adolescent girls, the mood has switched to adolescent men. We’ve also decided to ask a local youth organization to help in the planning to promote a cross-cultural exchange and encourage a lasting program. Keep your fingers crossed for success!
School vacation ended in March and is now in full swing. Alongside with the local first grade teacher we began a year long tooth brushing campaign for her students. They are a group of 17 five and six year olds. When I was home in December for Christmas my Mom and Dad received generous donations of toothpaste and toothbrushes from their dentists. To execute a long term project with this class, I presented the toothbrushes and toothpaste with the premise that they will brush morning and night.
Another volunteer, Mark started this project last year in his community. By piggybacking on his original project I’m implementing it here in Carata. This is how it goes….Each student receives a card every 14 days. The card lists the days of the week and a place for a parents signature in the morning and night. If the student successfully brushes his/her teeth 2x a day and gets it signed they will be rewarded. Every two weeks those students with their card signed will be able to participate in movie time in the health post. I also use this meeting time to teach them something else about oral health. A local Caratino named Victor who is always available to help, has agreed to print the cards on thicker paper using his company printing press in Lima.
SEE POSTED PICS
Missing your big ol´faces,
Mateo
Looking back since my last entry<-------I guess I have been a busy man. February’s highlight was going to the Peruvian version of Mardi Gras in Cajamarca (located in central northern Andes). A good size group of Peru 6ers rallied together to celebrate “Carnival” with water balloons and paint. We “ played” just one day, of that weekend, Sunday was definitely a day of rest. Another PCV printed up secret agent t-shirts for all of us to proudly wear as we were literally bombed with balloons and paint in the streets.
Small and large gangs of Peruvian youth paraded through the tight streets with home made drums and instruments, chanting as they doused anyone who looked dry. Meanwhile buckets of water were dropped from rooftops and balconies in the city streets. By the end of the day the balloons were all gone, the attacks seized and we joined the locals, bonded as one, sharing drinks and stories and united as carnival survivors. We marched, sang, and danced to the drum beat until the sunset.
Back to THE CHAMBA! Juan and I worked hard to get our grant written during the month of March. Originally our plan was to write for funds to contribute with the local government in a renovation of Carata’s potable water system. This large infrastructure project was long overdue and definitely needed. But it became publicly known that the municipalidad had decided to plan and finance the project. Excellent! So where could we fit in?
Sustainability-PC always wants us to work within a framework of consistent sustainability and this time I had an idea. surprise!? The municipality would come and direct the locals to rebuild their water system but never planned on actually training a small group in the maintenance of the system. If something broke, who would fix it? Would it stay broken for 20 years until the entire system was renovated again? Probably. But not today.
It sounds so simple but thats the difference between developed and developing countries. A plan for the future needs to be included. How can you expect farmers to maintain a water system or a new bridge, or a school or electrical system if no one teaches them how? Hello. It´s basic people! Lets problem solve before the problems occur!
We had written a detailed rough draft for the project plans-and it was a struggle. As a first time grant writer (in Spanish!) I can visibly see new wrinkles and a more prominent receding hairline on my 26 year old head! Juan was easily the best local to aide in the process but hardly the most ideal counterpart. He was struggling with health problems and not always available when needed. Nevertheless, given the structure of the application, 99% of the locals wouldn’t have been able to sit and help me write the 30 page document. Remember that more than 50% didn’t finish elementary school. Reading levels are extremely basic. It’s a miracle that Juan could do as much as he did.
I guess I can put my finger it…I didn’t write much on here in March because I was writing so much everywhere else! The last thing I wanted to do was open another word document!
Camp ALMA has been moving along-slowly. We’ve gotten together a couple of times collectively as volunteers to plan the 3 day retreat. And although it was originally going to be for adolescent girls, the mood has switched to adolescent men. We’ve also decided to ask a local youth organization to help in the planning to promote a cross-cultural exchange and encourage a lasting program. Keep your fingers crossed for success!
School vacation ended in March and is now in full swing. Alongside with the local first grade teacher we began a year long tooth brushing campaign for her students. They are a group of 17 five and six year olds. When I was home in December for Christmas my Mom and Dad received generous donations of toothpaste and toothbrushes from their dentists. To execute a long term project with this class, I presented the toothbrushes and toothpaste with the premise that they will brush morning and night.
Another volunteer, Mark started this project last year in his community. By piggybacking on his original project I’m implementing it here in Carata. This is how it goes….Each student receives a card every 14 days. The card lists the days of the week and a place for a parents signature in the morning and night. If the student successfully brushes his/her teeth 2x a day and gets it signed they will be rewarded. Every two weeks those students with their card signed will be able to participate in movie time in the health post. I also use this meeting time to teach them something else about oral health. A local Caratino named Victor who is always available to help, has agreed to print the cards on thicker paper using his company printing press in Lima.
SEE POSTED PICS
Missing your big ol´faces,
Mateo
Monday, March 05, 2007
Public Health
A couple of weeks ago, I was in Trujillo for the
weekend getting my mail, going to the bank, and shopping. I learned one of my
host family relatives fell while riding his bike and was in the hospital with a
broken arm. It seemed like a common injury, but it was much more complicated
than we thought. Alex had surgery to place pins in his radius or ulna. After
almost a week of hospitalization, and poor healing, doctors ordered x-rays.
They determined the pins were poorly placed and he would need another surgery.
Upon exiting surgery he was allowed visitors. My host father Juan and I took
public transportation to pay him a visit. At this point most of the extended
family had been in and out of the hospital.
I said to Juan, “ I hope Alex has a TV." "I know I’d
be bored laying in bed for a week.”
The city hospital was nothing beautiful from the
outside. Most sections were in various states of construction. There was little
landscaping, not the kind of place you’d want to spend even a day, nevertheless
a week. The entrance- a chain-linked fence- was crowded and busy with angry
visitors. Some how we passed through seamlessly. As we winded through the
outside maze, passing ditches and incomplete projects; I thought about what my
experience would have been like had I been assigned as a Peace Corps volunteer
in a large city hospital. Would I have lasted this long?
The more I thought about it, the better my village
Carata seemed. We passed through an opening and entered the main entrance of
the hospital. Juan had visited before and knew exactly where his nephew Alex
was located. I followed behind, at a slower pace. I took in my surroundings,
looking at the walls, ceiling and tile floor of this cement jungle. Where was
all the staff? This place was right out of a movie. It was exactly how I
imagined health care in the early 20th century in America. Where was
Florence Nightingale when needed most?
How naïve was I to think 7 year old Alex had a TV
in his room! There was probably one TV in the whole building, if that. Coming
from Brigham and Women’s, Beth Israel and Boston Medical Center I definitely envisioned a
lower quality hospital from any in Boston. But this was more than just a downgrade! How in 2007 could
there be such stark differences between us and them? For heaven’s sake, Trujillo is the 2rd largest
city in Peru next to the capital! The floors we climbed and hallways we crossed were the least of my worries…
The third floor pediatric wing buzzed with infant’s
cries and children sobbing. In room A, no curtain separated the patients, nor was
there furniture. Save for a small bedside table at the headboard of the oversized
crib Alex lay in. He cried. He was not happy to see us, his pain was getting
worse and the IV medication was disconnected. His uncle consoled him, and
covered up his naked body with the adult size gown carelessly thrown over him.
Where was the sheet? His mother Yoli and Aunt Sabina entered the room, with
swollen eyes. I felt for the little guy, who was such a spitfire.
I overheard the nurse tell the family that the IV
solution they bought was not the right formula. They couldn’t hang it. It would
have to be returned. I leaned over to Juan and asked quietly, what was going
on. He explained that the family of the admitted patient had to purchase
everything themselves and bring it into the hospital so that the staff could
use it. Gauze, thermometers, IV tubing, solution, medications, bandages,
lotion, tape, toilet paper, casting materials, tissues, sutures, you name it.
What kind of absurdity! Can you imagine? Having to personally buy all
those supplies during a hospital stay? Most of the time it’s hard enough for
the family to emotionally deal with such a situation and on top of that they
have to finance the care, on the spot. Why can’t the hospital just bill the
family for everything they used? Imagine lay people buying medications, treatments
and supplies they’ve never heard of, or never used? It’s a recipe for disaster.
Moreover, an overtired nurse or doctor could easily administer an incorrect
medication! It goes against everything I ever studied in nursing school, all
the medical ethics I learned. And I thought the public health need was greater
in rural Peru.
A large green dinosaur was painted on the adjacent wall from Alex’s bed.
When the guard politely told us visiting hours were over, we left his bedside
to talk in the hallway. He had calmed down, and drifted off to sleep. I could
tell the hospitalization was wearing on his parents. Each of them took turns,
night after night sleeping on a broken loveseat, waking at all hours to check
on their son. In a hot, noisy, poor city hospital I wondered how anyone could
heal. The only intelligible sign of hope was the green brontosaurus with a
smile.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Working Hard or Hardly Working?
As the weeks march on January turns to February. It hasn’t been a productive work month. But rather a productive thinking and planning month. We’ve meet with the mayor about our water project. Juan did his best to translate for me, for a man who’s Spanish is a about as intelligible as the sound a crumpled paper bag makes. If I understood correctly, the project has been written into the municipality’s budget. I just need to start the PC paperwork for my end of the financing. Meanwhile we await an engineer who is coming late February to assess the project cost. Tengo mis dudas sobre todo. Patience.
I’ve made it clear to my co-workers, Maria, Pilar and Juan that I’m focusing on 3 large projects this year. The aforementioned water renovation, recruiting and training local health promoters and forming a new water committee. Sure other small things will come up. But these three projects are key to the development of Carata.
As for a department in general, PCV’s from La Libertad will be holding it’s first ever Camp ALMA (soul) this year. Camp ALMA began years ago when PCV’s decided to bring together a group of young females from their communities for a leadership retreat. The goal is twofold, to transform the girls into role models and upon their return home to work in their villages as agents of change. Ideally, they would maintain the sustainability of the camp by leading others into service, good will and civic involvement.
My health in general has been very good. Mentally and physically. I´m back into life in the mountains and really looking forward to a successful year. Change is so slow to happen, but the more we keep at it the better the future looks! Thank you to all my dependable readers. I´ve enjoyed maintaining this blog to chronicle my experience, but most of all to stay connected to the US in a major way. Un fuerte abrazo. Mateo
I’ve made it clear to my co-workers, Maria, Pilar and Juan that I’m focusing on 3 large projects this year. The aforementioned water renovation, recruiting and training local health promoters and forming a new water committee. Sure other small things will come up. But these three projects are key to the development of Carata.
As for a department in general, PCV’s from La Libertad will be holding it’s first ever Camp ALMA (soul) this year. Camp ALMA began years ago when PCV’s decided to bring together a group of young females from their communities for a leadership retreat. The goal is twofold, to transform the girls into role models and upon their return home to work in their villages as agents of change. Ideally, they would maintain the sustainability of the camp by leading others into service, good will and civic involvement.
My health in general has been very good. Mentally and physically. I´m back into life in the mountains and really looking forward to a successful year. Change is so slow to happen, but the more we keep at it the better the future looks! Thank you to all my dependable readers. I´ve enjoyed maintaining this blog to chronicle my experience, but most of all to stay connected to the US in a major way. Un fuerte abrazo. Mateo
i´m going home
Many of the students at JSRHS asked me if I felt what could be termed culture shock upon arrival in the USA. I explained how the biggest surprises were really quite minor that I knew all along but had just forgotten about like, the plethora of hot water, a variety of foods and comfortable transportation. I went on to say that personally, I felt a stronger transition back to US culture in 2003. I had been studying Spanish in Costa Rica for 6 months and came home to begin college courses in Boston. I remember vividly the first couple of days.
The tremdous height of American men and women. The fact that English dominated every street sign, billboard and radiated from crowds. The cereal isle at the grocery store easily contained 75 brands of cereal! I wondered, is it really necessary for us to have that much variety?Nevertheless, I reintegrated and began back at the university. This recent trip was a flawless integration as long as I could remember to throw toilet paper down the bowl instead of in the nearby trash can!
What I never anticipated would frighten me the most. Going back to Perú. Call it reverse-reverse culture shock. Just when I thought I had been through it all-a short trip to the US disrupted everything. I immediately felt it when driving from the airport in Lima to our self nominated Peace Corps hostal-INCA HAUS. I rode with another PCV, Jane who ironically was on the same flight. We drove through an intersection in a poor part of the city and I was shocked to see small children performing acrobatics between lanes at 11:45pm. Was this really happening? I looked farther into the desolate distance at piles of burning trash in abandoned lots. By the look on Jane face, she sat quietly, obviously not thinking about the extreme poverty surrounding us. Welcome back to Peace Corps…..
I stayed in Lima a mere 24 hours to go back to the dentist and have my crown checked. That night I met up with a friend from Lima for dinner, Arturo and he dropped me off at the bus terminal for Trujillo. Juan was kind enough to meet me at 730am that next morning. He helped me with my luggage (enough for the two of us) and we went straight to la rinconada. The families neighborhood. Everyone was excited to see me, all the extended family of Juan and Mena. I unpacked gifts and gave everyone a little something from the US. We talked about Christmas and New Years. They were in a hurry to go up to Carata and although I wasn´t ( I wanted to stay in Trujillo for at least 2 nights) I decided to go with them. Big mistake.
Who knew you were supposed to ease yourself into poverty?
That first night in Carata was unforgettable. I had definitely arrived too quickly to my community without preparing myself for the reality. A tremendous homesickness came over me. I couldn’t bare to unpack my luggage because everything I brought back reminded me of Jenni, Dad, Mom, and Holly. It was horrible. I felt like abandoning my community, this job, this country and quitting to be back at home again. Saturday was an emotional day, I tried to think of the positives- but every thought was connected to home. I decided that I didn’t want to leave Perú but I wasn’t ready to get back into work. I needed a vacation or at least a break.
You see, my whole trip home was so excellent it’s hard to forget it and move on. I describe it as if I built a hard shell this past year, placing all my memories and happiness in the back of my head as a coping mechanism to adapt and overcome the challenges here. After going home I broke out of that shell, exposed myself to friends and family by opening all those hidden feelings of love and sadness, and happiness and fear and came back to Perú without thinking twice.
I think some volunteers don’t go home during their service because it’s just too hard to leave and come back.
The next 48 hours crawled by. My senses were awakened to new feelings. I smelled the familiar rain for the first time, and watched the thick fog hug the small village with new eyes. The smell of smoke that seeped through the red ceramic shingles permeated my clothes. The cackling of our neighbor´s donkey echoed into the night. The skyline of green mountains perfectly cut into rectangles glistened through the suns morning rays. This was the Carata I had forgotten, these small details of a tiny community at work.
A rush of emotions, thoughts and realities surged through my veins as I moved through the instinctual daily motions.
The California garden! Mud. The band plays. Rain. I’m not dancing. Sunshine. A pig grunts. Kids greet me. My phone, why did I leave it in Lima? Hola Cucha, How´s the fam? The unsightly trash. Our broken staircase. The key. Benito. Dogs barking. No water, again? Clear skies. My vitamins. What a sunset. Potato soup with symone. A heaping plate of white rice. One week. Where are the spices I brought back? A cold draft moves in. Comfortable, comforting bed. Camp Alma. Ann’s gone. Everythings green now. It’s a cold morning. More bread, please. 40º. 10,500 ft. I need to buy some more Listerine. Health post. Ya vengo. Maria and Pilar. Quality vs. Quantity. Last year. MINSA. ¿Como como como? No phone. The voicemail better be fixed. One week. Agua Potable. Health promoters. Water committee. New boots. Old boots. Alipio Bacilio. Smiles. Jeans. They each take turns. Jealously. T-shirts. His sons. ¿Cuanto costó? One week. Emily’s gone. Moldy rooms. Mi cuerpo no esta hecho de Madera. Chicki’s bouncing welcome. Cold shower. Vollyball. Uno. Play. Contra. We’re a good team. Flannel sheets. Agua cero. Water’s back. Lights out. 6 days later. It’s 7:30. Dinner time. La viuda de Blanco. Perú campeón. Lorca. Mana. Dina Pauker. A good novel. I forgot to floss. My bacín. One week. This would taste so much better with peanut butter. Iquitos. Holly’s visit. Huachos. Encuestas. Mr. Mayor. I can’t understand you. Jenni’s birthday. Rain drops on the tin roof. Don’t slip. Player 1. Ga-me over. More gifts. Boy cries. Donated toothbrushes and toothpaste. Meet Alex. Hop Scotch. Home made cookies. Should I coach volleyball? Washing clothes. Rent’s due. Fake like the foods great. How are Khaliah and Isaac? The door squeaks close. New wool socks. I should sweep the balcony. Make a grocery list. La hora de bajar. One week.
Late one of these past nights in January, I wrote a journal entry to myself.
“There’s something about this place that’s keeping me here. Unfinished work. There’s still too much to do. I cannot abandon this village. They have been abandoned by too many others. And so I began working again-differently this year. With specific goals in mind. I’ll try to be better to myself and not allow things/people to upset me. I have three resolutions. 1. Save more money. 2. Exercise daily. 3. Improve my Spanish.”
The tremdous height of American men and women. The fact that English dominated every street sign, billboard and radiated from crowds. The cereal isle at the grocery store easily contained 75 brands of cereal! I wondered, is it really necessary for us to have that much variety?Nevertheless, I reintegrated and began back at the university. This recent trip was a flawless integration as long as I could remember to throw toilet paper down the bowl instead of in the nearby trash can!
What I never anticipated would frighten me the most. Going back to Perú. Call it reverse-reverse culture shock. Just when I thought I had been through it all-a short trip to the US disrupted everything. I immediately felt it when driving from the airport in Lima to our self nominated Peace Corps hostal-INCA HAUS. I rode with another PCV, Jane who ironically was on the same flight. We drove through an intersection in a poor part of the city and I was shocked to see small children performing acrobatics between lanes at 11:45pm. Was this really happening? I looked farther into the desolate distance at piles of burning trash in abandoned lots. By the look on Jane face, she sat quietly, obviously not thinking about the extreme poverty surrounding us. Welcome back to Peace Corps…..
I stayed in Lima a mere 24 hours to go back to the dentist and have my crown checked. That night I met up with a friend from Lima for dinner, Arturo and he dropped me off at the bus terminal for Trujillo. Juan was kind enough to meet me at 730am that next morning. He helped me with my luggage (enough for the two of us) and we went straight to la rinconada. The families neighborhood. Everyone was excited to see me, all the extended family of Juan and Mena. I unpacked gifts and gave everyone a little something from the US. We talked about Christmas and New Years. They were in a hurry to go up to Carata and although I wasn´t ( I wanted to stay in Trujillo for at least 2 nights) I decided to go with them. Big mistake.
Who knew you were supposed to ease yourself into poverty?
That first night in Carata was unforgettable. I had definitely arrived too quickly to my community without preparing myself for the reality. A tremendous homesickness came over me. I couldn’t bare to unpack my luggage because everything I brought back reminded me of Jenni, Dad, Mom, and Holly. It was horrible. I felt like abandoning my community, this job, this country and quitting to be back at home again. Saturday was an emotional day, I tried to think of the positives- but every thought was connected to home. I decided that I didn’t want to leave Perú but I wasn’t ready to get back into work. I needed a vacation or at least a break.
You see, my whole trip home was so excellent it’s hard to forget it and move on. I describe it as if I built a hard shell this past year, placing all my memories and happiness in the back of my head as a coping mechanism to adapt and overcome the challenges here. After going home I broke out of that shell, exposed myself to friends and family by opening all those hidden feelings of love and sadness, and happiness and fear and came back to Perú without thinking twice.
I think some volunteers don’t go home during their service because it’s just too hard to leave and come back.
The next 48 hours crawled by. My senses were awakened to new feelings. I smelled the familiar rain for the first time, and watched the thick fog hug the small village with new eyes. The smell of smoke that seeped through the red ceramic shingles permeated my clothes. The cackling of our neighbor´s donkey echoed into the night. The skyline of green mountains perfectly cut into rectangles glistened through the suns morning rays. This was the Carata I had forgotten, these small details of a tiny community at work.
A rush of emotions, thoughts and realities surged through my veins as I moved through the instinctual daily motions.
The California garden! Mud. The band plays. Rain. I’m not dancing. Sunshine. A pig grunts. Kids greet me. My phone, why did I leave it in Lima? Hola Cucha, How´s the fam? The unsightly trash. Our broken staircase. The key. Benito. Dogs barking. No water, again? Clear skies. My vitamins. What a sunset. Potato soup with symone. A heaping plate of white rice. One week. Where are the spices I brought back? A cold draft moves in. Comfortable, comforting bed. Camp Alma. Ann’s gone. Everythings green now. It’s a cold morning. More bread, please. 40º. 10,500 ft. I need to buy some more Listerine. Health post. Ya vengo. Maria and Pilar. Quality vs. Quantity. Last year. MINSA. ¿Como como como? No phone. The voicemail better be fixed. One week. Agua Potable. Health promoters. Water committee. New boots. Old boots. Alipio Bacilio. Smiles. Jeans. They each take turns. Jealously. T-shirts. His sons. ¿Cuanto costó? One week. Emily’s gone. Moldy rooms. Mi cuerpo no esta hecho de Madera. Chicki’s bouncing welcome. Cold shower. Vollyball. Uno. Play. Contra. We’re a good team. Flannel sheets. Agua cero. Water’s back. Lights out. 6 days later. It’s 7:30. Dinner time. La viuda de Blanco. Perú campeón. Lorca. Mana. Dina Pauker. A good novel. I forgot to floss. My bacín. One week. This would taste so much better with peanut butter. Iquitos. Holly’s visit. Huachos. Encuestas. Mr. Mayor. I can’t understand you. Jenni’s birthday. Rain drops on the tin roof. Don’t slip. Player 1. Ga-me over. More gifts. Boy cries. Donated toothbrushes and toothpaste. Meet Alex. Hop Scotch. Home made cookies. Should I coach volleyball? Washing clothes. Rent’s due. Fake like the foods great. How are Khaliah and Isaac? The door squeaks close. New wool socks. I should sweep the balcony. Make a grocery list. La hora de bajar. One week.
Late one of these past nights in January, I wrote a journal entry to myself.
“There’s something about this place that’s keeping me here. Unfinished work. There’s still too much to do. I cannot abandon this village. They have been abandoned by too many others. And so I began working again-differently this year. With specific goals in mind. I’ll try to be better to myself and not allow things/people to upset me. I have three resolutions. 1. Save more money. 2. Exercise daily. 3. Improve my Spanish.”
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Christmas was more than good- Excellent!
Going home- What a stretch since being in Peru for so long. I was excited, and nervous at the same time. I mix of emotions ran through me in the days leading up to the trip. When I finally arrived in Boston, I was greeted by my sister and best friend, Holly. In the next couple of days I saw many people, and quickly adapted to US culture. It was so convenient to have water and electricity everyday! I could have gotten used to it! And lets not forget the food! I didn't eat rice-once. Except in a sushi roll, but that doesn't count.
I even went to my old high school to give a presentation about Peace Corps and Peru. I found it difficult to share many experiences to students who have never been abroad but most were open to learning and asked intelligent questions. The school has changed a lot. Thank you John Stark, students and faculty for inviting me as a guest.
Christmas day came up quickly, we celebrated at my mom's apartment in Concord. Having the whole family together was similar and different from years past. We've learned to make new traditions. Jenni and Bill brought there dog, Bella who celebrated her first Christmas. I had brought many gifts and in return received practical gifts I could use for this next year. We ate a home made ham and relaxed. My dad, Bill and I watched "A White Christmas" and played with the dog.
I headed down to Boston for New Years to spend some time with friends, David and Josiah. Who both offered their apartments for a couple of nights. I showed them the carata video from August. I think this gave them a better perspective of life in the campo, instead of trying to imagine from photos. Joe and I rang in the new year with Dick Clark. 2006-What a year. What would 2007 bring?
I even went to my old high school to give a presentation about Peace Corps and Peru. I found it difficult to share many experiences to students who have never been abroad but most were open to learning and asked intelligent questions. The school has changed a lot. Thank you John Stark, students and faculty for inviting me as a guest.
Christmas day came up quickly, we celebrated at my mom's apartment in Concord. Having the whole family together was similar and different from years past. We've learned to make new traditions. Jenni and Bill brought there dog, Bella who celebrated her first Christmas. I had brought many gifts and in return received practical gifts I could use for this next year. We ate a home made ham and relaxed. My dad, Bill and I watched "A White Christmas" and played with the dog.
I headed down to Boston for New Years to spend some time with friends, David and Josiah. Who both offered their apartments for a couple of nights. I showed them the carata video from August. I think this gave them a better perspective of life in the campo, instead of trying to imagine from photos. Joe and I rang in the new year with Dick Clark. 2006-What a year. What would 2007 bring?
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Thanksgiving 2 of 2
Wednesday Nov. 22nd
Huaraz is not quite as touristy as Cusco (where Machu Picchu is) but probably the second most next to Lima. Hikers from around the world come to trek the “Cordillera Blanca” “White mountain range”-one of the longest and highest chains of the Andes. Peaks reach heights of …..6,768 m, there are 22 hotsprings and more than 600 lakes. And a multitude of hikes to endulge yourself in, but most do the Santa Cruz or Huayhuash (pronounced Y-Wash) routes. The hikes differ in lengths and skill level. Next year in July/August a group of us are planning a 9 day trip through Huayhuash, and hiring guides and donkeys to carry our food, and gear.
To say the least I was happy to have arrived in backpacker’s heaven, especially with such a great group of friends for a couple of days of r & r. (to use an American expression). We settled into our hostel, La Colmena (the beehive) and unpacked. Some of the girls wanted to see an archeological site called Chavin, so we walked through the city to a recommended agency. The people are so completly different than in my region, I thought to myself. The women’s vibrantly colored skirts and their beautiful beige and green felt hats. It´s reminiscent to the serranos (Mountain men/women) from Carata, but because Trujillo is so modern and influences the sierra, most locals have lost traditions of wearing certain clothes.
I stayed back at the hostel to work on a presentation for mid-service checks and explore the city of Huaraz solo. I found a small Chinese restaurant for lunch, and called my friend Isaac while eating (what a bad habit) to see what he was up to during this holiday weekend. It occurred to me that Huaraz has a TATOO (backpacking store like EMS or REI) and even though I had no money, I thought it would be fun to check it out. But what was the address? The staff at California Café would know! The café, owned by an American-peruvian couple is one of the common hang out spots for pcv’s (peace corps volunteers). So popular in fact, that as I entered, I immediately recognized Mia, another Peru Sixer. Mia, is an environmental volunteer working in the town of Caraz. She would definitely know the address to Tatoo. I hadn’t seen her since December of 05. We had a lot of catch up to do, so I sat and talked. Erin B. was on her way to the café. I hadn’t seen Erin either, but heard the sad news that she was leaving Peru. She was having trouble in site, was unhappy and had decided going back to the US was the best option. I gave her a big hug when I saw her. I couldn’t imagine. She had just cleaned out her room, said goodbye to her host family and stood in the café doorway holding every memory and belonging in her hands. Will that be the rest of us come next year? Peacin’ Out.
I hung out with Mia and Erin for a little while later, than returned to my room to try calling my host family again. Mia took me to Tatoo and Andino Café, where our friend Mark was hanging out with his girl. Back at the hostal I finally got through to my host family, I wanted them to break into my room, find my passport and mail it to Lima. (It’s a long story, I’ll spare the details). I meet up with the Chavin group for pizza and we walked over to 13 Buhos for a beer. What a perfect day.
Thursday Nov. 23rd. It’s THANKSGIVING-but it’s not….
At least not for us in Peru. We decided all 15 of us, that we’d leave Friday for the cooking and feast and Thanksgiving day we’d go hiking. The group split up, I stayed with the craziest who agreed to travel out to Yungay to meet our tour guide extraordinare and dear friend, Erin S. This girl has spent many weekends hiking altitudes of 12, 13 and 14,000 ft. She was training for a marathon last I knew, but than withdrew due to injury. But she was still alright to take us on a day hike, Laguna 69.
We hired two taxi drivers to bring us to the starting point in Huascaran national park, and told them to come back in three hours for us. They wanted to be paid, but we knew they wouldn’t return if we paid them in full. A deal’s a deal. The views were amazing! We were surrounded by mountains at 3,500 m and planned to hike to 4,500 m. We packed enough food for lunch, enough clothes for the rain and enough water to stay hydrated.
It got hot walking through a valley between two peaks, I stopped to peal off some layers. As we walked the eight of us talked about future vacations and when we should plan a trip into the jungle or a long trek, like Huayhuash. These were the moments that I have enjoyed most about living abroad. Planning vacations with fellow volunteers. We get so bored living in our sites, and rarely get to see each other, aside from those who live close to us. Honestly, the breaks from work are helping me get through these two years with sanity.
As we slowly climbed the trail we passed a lake and continued around it. Two group members stayed back. Costeños! I could feel the air getting thin. And then it began to rain. Figures. November in the mountains? The rainy season had already began in Ancash. Thank god it was slow to start in La Libertad. We stopped, waited for the others and ate some snacks. Erin said we were getting closer to the hardest part of the climb, but than the trail would flatten out again. I was holding my own, I think all the walking I do in site really pays off for big hikes. It’s a good training regimen.
Rob started complaining of a stomach ache that had come and gone since the previous night but he still carried on. As the designated nurse, I knew exactly what was going on. Diarrhea. (I always get it when I hike) So I did what any good friend would do, offered my toilet paper to him. We eventually arrived to the crest and strolled along the flat basin. Up ahead we couldn’t see well because the fog was coming in deep. After scaling a few more parts the most lucent blue green lake lye ahead of us. We made it. Lunch time. In honor of the sexual innuendo of the trails name, we took a picture of us mooning the camera. The trail is actually called Nevado Chacraraju, but some Europeans re-named it Laguna 69. As we hiked down, the sky cleared and we could see the snow topped mountains above, they looked close enough to touch!
Rob and Mike were starting to feel really bad, symptoms of altitude sickness. They just aren’t used to such heights since living in flatter regions of the country. I felt for them. The best we could do was get back to the city, shower at the hostel and meet up for dinner. Over dinner we talked about who was cooking what and where for tomorrow. Thanksgiving was on! We remembered to call our families at home and went to bed early after feeling sore from the hike.
Friday Nov. 24
The cooking begins! Just as if we were in our households in the US preparing for Thanksgiving we did the same from three hostels in Huaraz. The dinner was planned for 4 o’clock at the Way Inn Lodge a few km from the city. The volunteers from Ancash, Erin, Mia, Ann, Mark and Erin had been raving about this lodge and there was enough space for the 15 of us. The lodge is owned by a young English couple who moved to Ancash a few years back. They gave us a deal for the night as long as we feed them.
I made banana bread, apple pie and helped Khaliah with her apple cobbler. What a treat! In total, we prepared stuffing, vegetables, mash potatoes, cranberry sauce, asparagus, a mixed salad, garlic bread, casserole and gravy. The turkey ended up being three chickens because it was easier to pay a chicken restaurant to cook it for us! In the end, it was all good. As the sun set the lodge owners told us the generator was down and we wouldn’t have electricity for the night. And just like seasoned peace corps volunteers we turned lemons into lemonade and played cards, board games, and drank late into the evening under candle light.
We slept outside the lodge in a man made cave which housed 10 twin beds angling around the cave walls from ceiling to floor. With all that body heat the place maintained a warm temperature during the night. It didn’t seem to matter that there was no lights, the sun would be rising shortly. I snuggled into my summer camp like home and slept soundly for the night.
Saturday Nov. 25
Erin convinced us that there was a great local hike close to the lodge to another spectacular lake. I was up for it! No rain…the sky was light blue, perfect. Two of our friends from peace corps Ecuador who had finished service and were driving a jeep around South America met up with us for Thanksgiving. Although they were off to Lima, and than to Chile they offered to give us a ride closer to the trail opening.
The trail entrance sign read- “Take nothing but pictures, Leave nothing but footprints, and kill nothing but time and mosquitoes.” Laguna Churup 4450 m. Our group was smaller for this hike, which was fine. Bryan, Jean, Anna, Erin and I had to work together to scale this trail. There were many advanced sections , one part included a hand made ladder, other treacherous parts required hands and feet and the help from a climbing partner. I almost slipped but caught myself. At the top this lake was as beautiful as the one we saw on Thursday. It was so crystal clear you could see the bottom. Surrounding the aqua color were glacial peaks draining from above.
Sunday afternoon we took a day bus to Lima and Monday morning we began mid service program meetings and health check ups. I wondered if I was carrying any unknown parasites. Only stool samples would tell!
Our program meeting for health volunteers was divided into two days. Fortunatly we got to hear from everyone in our group (13 of us) and see what projects they had completed since being in site for a year. I was truly impressed with everyones presentations. Fellow volunteers worked with water committees, planted community gardens, trained health promoters, coached basketball, acted in local theatre groups, spoke weekly on their own radio shows, filmed TV commercials, organized boys and girls leadership camps, participated in hand washing campaigns, worked with elders, raised guinea pigs, taught women to cook more nutritional meals, offered computer classes, built latrines and modern stoves, and almost everyone taught at least one English class. I got a lot of great ideas to bring back to Carata. And we shared insights into better practices. Such as, How can you increase participation? How do you verify learning? Is there a way to reward a family for improving their health? What incentives can we offer? What is sustainable about our projects, what isn’t?
The rest of the week in Lima was busy with appointments and meetings with our supervisor, Emilia. I had a physical-no health issues. And I went to the dentist. Isaac and I had a bet going about cavities. Even though we are both obsessed with brushing and flossing, we knew that after not seeing a dentist for more than a year we were bound to have issues. He who had more cavities owed a movie to the other. I lost. I needed a crown replaced. The bet should have been off when I found out there were two dentists doing our checkups. Our Dr. needed the help of two dentists because both the Environment and Health volunteers were together for checkups. Usually the Lima office does the groups separately, but because we wanted to see each other we petitioned for a entire Peru 6 group session. And we won. But I still lost the bet to Isaac. He was scheduled to see the female dentist (who had an enormous fountain in her waiting room!) and I got stuck with the not so gentle male dentist who was a perfectionist. Ouch-How do you say-“Use some more Novocain buddy!” in Spanish?
I got back to site early December and finalized a few last things to close the year. Our CODECO group planted the seeds in the school garden and labeled signs for each vegetable. We brought the youth group and the parents group together to thank them for their participation with a hot coco and fruit cake event. And I diligently worked on my four month report for Emilia. Damn, these PC reports are so painful, but its really the only formal documentation I have to do. So I suck it up and do it for the government.
And before I knew it I was packing for a trip home. The first time home in 15 months. Wow. Would I even recognize my own country? I think I was more excited about the food than my loved ones. Hi Mom and Dad, “It’s so good to see you”, “Can we go out for breakfast? I had been dreaming about The Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH for months. Bacon, Eggs, Tabasco and brown sugar home fries. YUUUMMM.
Huaraz is not quite as touristy as Cusco (where Machu Picchu is) but probably the second most next to Lima. Hikers from around the world come to trek the “Cordillera Blanca” “White mountain range”-one of the longest and highest chains of the Andes. Peaks reach heights of …..6,768 m, there are 22 hotsprings and more than 600 lakes. And a multitude of hikes to endulge yourself in, but most do the Santa Cruz or Huayhuash (pronounced Y-Wash) routes. The hikes differ in lengths and skill level. Next year in July/August a group of us are planning a 9 day trip through Huayhuash, and hiring guides and donkeys to carry our food, and gear.
To say the least I was happy to have arrived in backpacker’s heaven, especially with such a great group of friends for a couple of days of r & r. (to use an American expression). We settled into our hostel, La Colmena (the beehive) and unpacked. Some of the girls wanted to see an archeological site called Chavin, so we walked through the city to a recommended agency. The people are so completly different than in my region, I thought to myself. The women’s vibrantly colored skirts and their beautiful beige and green felt hats. It´s reminiscent to the serranos (Mountain men/women) from Carata, but because Trujillo is so modern and influences the sierra, most locals have lost traditions of wearing certain clothes.
I stayed back at the hostel to work on a presentation for mid-service checks and explore the city of Huaraz solo. I found a small Chinese restaurant for lunch, and called my friend Isaac while eating (what a bad habit) to see what he was up to during this holiday weekend. It occurred to me that Huaraz has a TATOO (backpacking store like EMS or REI) and even though I had no money, I thought it would be fun to check it out. But what was the address? The staff at California Café would know! The café, owned by an American-peruvian couple is one of the common hang out spots for pcv’s (peace corps volunteers). So popular in fact, that as I entered, I immediately recognized Mia, another Peru Sixer. Mia, is an environmental volunteer working in the town of Caraz. She would definitely know the address to Tatoo. I hadn’t seen her since December of 05. We had a lot of catch up to do, so I sat and talked. Erin B. was on her way to the café. I hadn’t seen Erin either, but heard the sad news that she was leaving Peru. She was having trouble in site, was unhappy and had decided going back to the US was the best option. I gave her a big hug when I saw her. I couldn’t imagine. She had just cleaned out her room, said goodbye to her host family and stood in the café doorway holding every memory and belonging in her hands. Will that be the rest of us come next year? Peacin’ Out.
I hung out with Mia and Erin for a little while later, than returned to my room to try calling my host family again. Mia took me to Tatoo and Andino Café, where our friend Mark was hanging out with his girl. Back at the hostal I finally got through to my host family, I wanted them to break into my room, find my passport and mail it to Lima. (It’s a long story, I’ll spare the details). I meet up with the Chavin group for pizza and we walked over to 13 Buhos for a beer. What a perfect day.
Thursday Nov. 23rd. It’s THANKSGIVING-but it’s not….
At least not for us in Peru. We decided all 15 of us, that we’d leave Friday for the cooking and feast and Thanksgiving day we’d go hiking. The group split up, I stayed with the craziest who agreed to travel out to Yungay to meet our tour guide extraordinare and dear friend, Erin S. This girl has spent many weekends hiking altitudes of 12, 13 and 14,000 ft. She was training for a marathon last I knew, but than withdrew due to injury. But she was still alright to take us on a day hike, Laguna 69.
We hired two taxi drivers to bring us to the starting point in Huascaran national park, and told them to come back in three hours for us. They wanted to be paid, but we knew they wouldn’t return if we paid them in full. A deal’s a deal. The views were amazing! We were surrounded by mountains at 3,500 m and planned to hike to 4,500 m. We packed enough food for lunch, enough clothes for the rain and enough water to stay hydrated.
It got hot walking through a valley between two peaks, I stopped to peal off some layers. As we walked the eight of us talked about future vacations and when we should plan a trip into the jungle or a long trek, like Huayhuash. These were the moments that I have enjoyed most about living abroad. Planning vacations with fellow volunteers. We get so bored living in our sites, and rarely get to see each other, aside from those who live close to us. Honestly, the breaks from work are helping me get through these two years with sanity.
As we slowly climbed the trail we passed a lake and continued around it. Two group members stayed back. Costeños! I could feel the air getting thin. And then it began to rain. Figures. November in the mountains? The rainy season had already began in Ancash. Thank god it was slow to start in La Libertad. We stopped, waited for the others and ate some snacks. Erin said we were getting closer to the hardest part of the climb, but than the trail would flatten out again. I was holding my own, I think all the walking I do in site really pays off for big hikes. It’s a good training regimen.
Rob started complaining of a stomach ache that had come and gone since the previous night but he still carried on. As the designated nurse, I knew exactly what was going on. Diarrhea. (I always get it when I hike) So I did what any good friend would do, offered my toilet paper to him. We eventually arrived to the crest and strolled along the flat basin. Up ahead we couldn’t see well because the fog was coming in deep. After scaling a few more parts the most lucent blue green lake lye ahead of us. We made it. Lunch time. In honor of the sexual innuendo of the trails name, we took a picture of us mooning the camera. The trail is actually called Nevado Chacraraju, but some Europeans re-named it Laguna 69. As we hiked down, the sky cleared and we could see the snow topped mountains above, they looked close enough to touch!
Rob and Mike were starting to feel really bad, symptoms of altitude sickness. They just aren’t used to such heights since living in flatter regions of the country. I felt for them. The best we could do was get back to the city, shower at the hostel and meet up for dinner. Over dinner we talked about who was cooking what and where for tomorrow. Thanksgiving was on! We remembered to call our families at home and went to bed early after feeling sore from the hike.
Friday Nov. 24
The cooking begins! Just as if we were in our households in the US preparing for Thanksgiving we did the same from three hostels in Huaraz. The dinner was planned for 4 o’clock at the Way Inn Lodge a few km from the city. The volunteers from Ancash, Erin, Mia, Ann, Mark and Erin had been raving about this lodge and there was enough space for the 15 of us. The lodge is owned by a young English couple who moved to Ancash a few years back. They gave us a deal for the night as long as we feed them.
I made banana bread, apple pie and helped Khaliah with her apple cobbler. What a treat! In total, we prepared stuffing, vegetables, mash potatoes, cranberry sauce, asparagus, a mixed salad, garlic bread, casserole and gravy. The turkey ended up being three chickens because it was easier to pay a chicken restaurant to cook it for us! In the end, it was all good. As the sun set the lodge owners told us the generator was down and we wouldn’t have electricity for the night. And just like seasoned peace corps volunteers we turned lemons into lemonade and played cards, board games, and drank late into the evening under candle light.
We slept outside the lodge in a man made cave which housed 10 twin beds angling around the cave walls from ceiling to floor. With all that body heat the place maintained a warm temperature during the night. It didn’t seem to matter that there was no lights, the sun would be rising shortly. I snuggled into my summer camp like home and slept soundly for the night.
Saturday Nov. 25
Erin convinced us that there was a great local hike close to the lodge to another spectacular lake. I was up for it! No rain…the sky was light blue, perfect. Two of our friends from peace corps Ecuador who had finished service and were driving a jeep around South America met up with us for Thanksgiving. Although they were off to Lima, and than to Chile they offered to give us a ride closer to the trail opening.
The trail entrance sign read- “Take nothing but pictures, Leave nothing but footprints, and kill nothing but time and mosquitoes.” Laguna Churup 4450 m. Our group was smaller for this hike, which was fine. Bryan, Jean, Anna, Erin and I had to work together to scale this trail. There were many advanced sections , one part included a hand made ladder, other treacherous parts required hands and feet and the help from a climbing partner. I almost slipped but caught myself. At the top this lake was as beautiful as the one we saw on Thursday. It was so crystal clear you could see the bottom. Surrounding the aqua color were glacial peaks draining from above.
Sunday afternoon we took a day bus to Lima and Monday morning we began mid service program meetings and health check ups. I wondered if I was carrying any unknown parasites. Only stool samples would tell!
Our program meeting for health volunteers was divided into two days. Fortunatly we got to hear from everyone in our group (13 of us) and see what projects they had completed since being in site for a year. I was truly impressed with everyones presentations. Fellow volunteers worked with water committees, planted community gardens, trained health promoters, coached basketball, acted in local theatre groups, spoke weekly on their own radio shows, filmed TV commercials, organized boys and girls leadership camps, participated in hand washing campaigns, worked with elders, raised guinea pigs, taught women to cook more nutritional meals, offered computer classes, built latrines and modern stoves, and almost everyone taught at least one English class. I got a lot of great ideas to bring back to Carata. And we shared insights into better practices. Such as, How can you increase participation? How do you verify learning? Is there a way to reward a family for improving their health? What incentives can we offer? What is sustainable about our projects, what isn’t?
The rest of the week in Lima was busy with appointments and meetings with our supervisor, Emilia. I had a physical-no health issues. And I went to the dentist. Isaac and I had a bet going about cavities. Even though we are both obsessed with brushing and flossing, we knew that after not seeing a dentist for more than a year we were bound to have issues. He who had more cavities owed a movie to the other. I lost. I needed a crown replaced. The bet should have been off when I found out there were two dentists doing our checkups. Our Dr. needed the help of two dentists because both the Environment and Health volunteers were together for checkups. Usually the Lima office does the groups separately, but because we wanted to see each other we petitioned for a entire Peru 6 group session. And we won. But I still lost the bet to Isaac. He was scheduled to see the female dentist (who had an enormous fountain in her waiting room!) and I got stuck with the not so gentle male dentist who was a perfectionist. Ouch-How do you say-“Use some more Novocain buddy!” in Spanish?
I got back to site early December and finalized a few last things to close the year. Our CODECO group planted the seeds in the school garden and labeled signs for each vegetable. We brought the youth group and the parents group together to thank them for their participation with a hot coco and fruit cake event. And I diligently worked on my four month report for Emilia. Damn, these PC reports are so painful, but its really the only formal documentation I have to do. So I suck it up and do it for the government.
And before I knew it I was packing for a trip home. The first time home in 15 months. Wow. Would I even recognize my own country? I think I was more excited about the food than my loved ones. Hi Mom and Dad, “It’s so good to see you”, “Can we go out for breakfast? I had been dreaming about The Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH for months. Bacon, Eggs, Tabasco and brown sugar home fries. YUUUMMM.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Thankgiving-1of 2
On Monday Nov. 20th, I hiked out of Carata to Motil to catch a bus. I had been in site for two weeks and was stirring to get out. I hadn’t bathed for days because there was little water and I was too lazy to take a bucket bath (I prefer a full outright shower even if it is ice cold) but the water barely trickles from the sink with such little pressure.
Juan followed me on his dirt bike, carrying my luggage to the main road. No buses passed for quite some time. I could feel my nose burning in the sun. Where the hell was my sun block? Burried in my luggage. I have to wear sun block every day on my face-at such a high altitude I’ve burned easily. I was carrying a hiking bag and my laptop. Just enough luggage for ten days in Huaraz and
We waited, and waited. It’s really become normal at this point all the waiting that is. If I’m not waiting for transportation, I’m waiting for a meeting to start, or a phone call, or maybe a friend or for my mail in customs. I imagine any future waiting experiences in my life time, won’t even compare to all the waiting I’ve done this past year in
In this one circumstance I passed an easy 8 hours on the side of the road. Juan left to beat the threatening rain. More than 10 buses, 5 cars, 3 combis, 6 trucks and a mess of sheep and donkeys had crossed my path. Finally just before it got dark and cold my savior arrived-a mining bus. These buses don’t even pick up passengers-due to the contract they have with a gold mine companies north of where Carata lies. The big red beauty came barreling down the mountain empty, I’m sure they noted the helplessness in our faces. They could make some extra change by picking us up and as long as we promised to keep the curtains closed as we passed the high way control station. I felt like Ann Frank, hiding but thankful to be alive.
Oh, you may wonder why I waited so long for a ride? The day before was election day for local governments. As for the presidential election this election is also mandatory (It’s the only law Peruvians uphold). So with this in mind, buses were at their capacity. Everyone who works in one district had to travel back to their home districts based on their permanent address. This means a lot of shuffling of people from the coast to the sierra and vice versa. Juan and Mena have an Uncle who lives in
That next morning I attended a nutrition workshop at my friend Khaliah’s site, Chao ( 50km south of
Khaliah had invited other health volunteers from different departments to act as guest facilitators for the day. I was delighted to help but also stressed to put something creative together and arrive in one piece since surviving the atrocious previous day. 8 health promoters attended and a nutritionist, and Khaliah’s counterpart, Margot and her supervisor, and the three of us volunteers.
One of our friends was planning on attending but the workshop but was trapped in her site to a strike and rioting as a result of the election. The public was obviously unhappy with the newly elected mayor and officials. They had closed the roads preventing any cars from coming or going and cut telephone lines. She had to be evacuated by peace corps.
(I later found out another similar situation occurred where my friends’ Jimmy and Lenah (a married couple) live. But the public rioting was so bad the town hall was burned, school computers were destroyed, and other public buildings ransacked. And I thought the college riots in
Just a side note, getting back to the nutrition workshop…. I really enjoyed seeing Devina (who works in the sierra of Cajamarca) and Adiana who works in the
That night we all got on an overnight bus east to Huaraz, Ancash the most beautiful region of the Peruvian Andes. I didn’t sleep. Mostly because of the strange man sitting next to me. I actually woke myself up, startled, thinking he was stealing my glasses off my face. What a nightmare! Remember “Adventures in Babysitting”?
To be continued....
Thursday, November 23, 2006
a real tourist
Shortly after sending the new trainees back to Lima, and recovering from illness (I’m sure I’ve lost at least 10 pounds this year). I meet up with two friends for a well deserved trip south to the department of Ica. This coastal department neighbors Lima and is the home of five PC volunteers. It’s almost always hot year round, due to its desert-like climate, and can be a little overcast from the Lima fog and smog.
None of the three of us had ever been to Ica, and even though it’s only a few hours by bus from Lima we had been reading in our guide books that it’s a great tourist vacation spot. In spite of the fact that Peruvians think I’m a tourist everyday, (at least when I’m out of site) this time I really wanted to be a tourist. The trip wouldn’t be too expensive, as long as I could stay on a budget (yeah right!). We had planned to hit three of the major cities in the department, Pisco, Nazca and Ica.
I hadn’t been away from La Libertad for months and was really looking forward to a relaxing and adventurous trip. On Halloween my good friend Emily and I took an overnight bus to Lima, arrived at 7am and immediately looked for the bus terminal to the city of Ica. We knew it was another 4-5 hours south to the city of Ica and we wanted to at least do some site seeing that first day. In transit we passed corn, cotton, asparagus, banana, and olive grove fields. Our friend Amy, who lives in Ica recommended that we stay in Huacachina which is a beautiful oasis in the middle of sand dunes. The oasis once was natural water, but now it’s pumped in from a far. People told us the water had special healing powers.
We checked into a cheap but posh hostel ($10 a piece) and learned from the staff about the popular sports of sand boarding and dune buggy rental. Other volunteers had done it and we thought it was worth the experience. Besides, I though, “When am I ever going have the opportunity to sand board on desert cliffs?” I’m from NH for Christ’s sake! Emily and I thought about it over a drink at the bar by the pool. We met a girl from Ireland who had just come in from Nazca. She told us about the famous Nazca lines and how it was spectacular. She was terribly sunburned from hiking through Chile with a group of Europeans.
We left our hostel to go to the bank in the city of Ica and see if there was anything touristy we could do while waiting for Ann to arrive from Lima. Due to the fact that it was a holiday (All saints day) the wine vineyards were closed. But to our advantage the city museum was open. A taxi driver in Trujillo had told me the night before that it was a cool museum especially for the mummies.
And the taxista was right. Ancient mummies from pre-Inca civilizations of the Paracas and Nazcan people. What a site! I have a fond appreciation for hidden tombs, ancient burial sites, barbaric surgical procedures, and learning about the beliefs and customs from these Peruvian ancestors. The museum also had a fascinating display of deformed skulls-similar to the Chinese foot binding history, these ancient people believed in tightly wrapping the skulls of their infants. Resulting in cranial deformities and even death. The skulls looked like alien remains, oval in shape, instead of round. How creepy!
Ann arrived that night to the hostel, and we planned out the next three days. We thought best to see a vineyard, (Ica is Peru’s wine country) and than sand board in the early evening to save ourselves from the sweltering sun. We toured two wineries, known as “bodegas”. Tacama is south America’s oldest winery. We met a family of Spaniards that day, and joined their tour. They were impressed with our Spanish, and that we could hold our own at the wine tasting portion. I bought a bottle for my host family. Later we ate toured a less commercial, more authentic home made winery where we learned about the more genuine way to make wine. This place was called Bodega Lazo, and was definitely less touristy but fun all the same. We tried their Pisco-from the national Peruvian drink Pisco Sour- and I choked it down. It’s like 90 proof.
Sanding was left to the afternoon, back at Huacachina. We argued prices and eventually got what we wanted, S/.40 a piece. Ann who is the most practical girl I know (she brings a small backpack for a week long trip) had only brought one pair of shoes…heals. I said, “Your going into the dunes in those? Damn girl!” Evidently she had forgotten about this opportunity when packing so lightly. The dune buggies are large, hand made 4x4 vehicles that looked dangerous to even stand next too. But I jumped in. And we were off, our driver tearing through the little town to place us neatly on top of the impressive sand dunes. It was anything but neat, like an amusement park ride. I was jolted, jostled, and molded into a new human being as we speed through the dunes, flying through the air over hills and peaks. Sand blew into my eyes, and into my dread locks. Once stopped, we appreciated the view, and jumped back into the car, snapped seat belts (logical) and drove off to another cliff.
From this point we tried sand boarding, very similar to snow boarding minus the snow. And the board is very basic, I mean a child could have made it in shop class. A plain rectangle, double tipped, and fabric bindings. I laughed even harder at the thought of Ann in heals in the shitty bindings. But, as the soldier she is, she sand boarded barefoot. Now that’s hardcore. After a few tries, and a few face plants in the sand…I picked up the technique. I was part of the elite few on the internationally known, John Stark Ski Team at one point in my short life. And turns out, sand boarding is way easier than snow boarding or even skiing for that matter. They waxed up our boards and we were off. Even Emily and Ann, self proclaimed “non-athletic” were rocking the sand (no pun intended) and taking hilarious pictures.
The sunset from the dunes was remarkable. And than it was dark. And cold. That night was left for Nazca the much anticipated excursion farther south to see the lines. Now these lines are more than special, they are enigmatic ground markings that have bewildered scientists and locals for centuries. And they can only be seen from one place, an aerial view by aircraft. The lines in the desert sand were made by the nazca people in AD 300-1000. There are dozens of symbols but the most intriguing are of plant and animal life of that time period. We arrived that night in the city of Nazca and were bombared with tourism agencies and taxi’s the moment we stepped off the bus. I wanted very badly to be a Peruvian and not an American in that moment. Complete chaos, people yelling, and a decision needed to be made. I knew we wouldn’t be going through this if we weren’t such blatent looking tourists. A man yelled my name. I looked up and he motioned us to his taxi. He was a hotel owner whose co-worker had met up hours earlier on the bus ride from the city of Ica. We agreed to stay at his hotel, because it was ridiculously cheap, $3.00 a piece.
Let’s just say the hotel is not worth writing about on this blog nor to the publishers of Lonely Plant or the Rough Guide. It’s just a place to rest, I say. We were there for a mear 8 hours. Fortunatly I took the advice from somebody to not eat breakfast as the short flight over the lines can be nauseous provoking. We watched a short video from terminal as the pilot prepped the plane. And once aboard I clutched on to the barf bag. How romantic. Emily took most of the pictures out the side windows as I dry heaved. And once that passed I enjoyed the rest of the flight. And I thought I was conditioning myself of this motion sickness problem by taking such rustic means of transport throughout the country. I guess not. I have yet to throw up on a Peruvian bus. And god knows those little 15 hour rides can be torture.
We ate breakfast and took a long drive out to a series of ceremonial burial cemeteries where the Nasca people built underground tombs and mummified their loved ones in the fetal position. The sun has damaged some of the sites, but most were in remarkably good shape given their age. The coolest part was the hair of the mummies, visible, thick dreadlocks. Evidently the longer and thicker your locks the more prestige one had. Sounds like my kind of peeps.
Next, our taxi driver took us to a ceramic making artisan, and than to a gold mining shop. Both owners still use traditional means in their craft. The ceramic maker molds, paints and glazes his work all by hand and heats the pottery in a adobe like stove. He uses his own facial oils to glaze his work. Likewise the gold miner uses a special filtration process to pull gold properties from other precious stones, they than purify the gold by grinding it with huge boulders. It’s refreshing to see laborers who maintain the age old methods of their artisan work.
We did some shopping in the plaza of Nazca and visited another museum less exciting than other exhibits we had seen, but a very modern and clean place. I liked the aqueducts outside the museum which were still in their original state. Emily realized at that point that she left her camera in Huacachina the night before at a store. We took a quick bus back north to Ica to look for the camera. But upon arriving at the exact location where she remembered setting it down, it wasn’t there. Fortunately for someone, it was a good find. But that left us down on luck, spirits low.
Still to come was another bus ride north to Pisco. This third city was similar to Ica and Nazca, in fact there town centers are so similar I was getting confused about where I was. That’s a sign of real foreigner. Lost, Confused and Helpless. Luck for me, I had two female bodyguards. We checked into our hotel, recommended by Amy, and made reservations next store with a travel agency who would take us to Paracas and the national reserve. Amy who is a PC environment volunteer works in the reserve to preserve the Ballesta Islands. While I’m in the sierra teaching people how to washing their hands, she’s on the coast playing with seals, sea lions and penguins. ¡No es justo!
An early start of 7:30am got us on a tour bus to the reserve. We took a boat out to the islands and saw another mysterious figure in the sand (much like the lines) but of a large candle stick instead.
The fog swept in and as we moved further from the coast my bare legs trembled. Shorts. What a dumb idea. They were the only clean thing to wear. The Ballesta Islands were hugs rocks covered with a diverse ecosystem of birds. So many different species land there, some endangered, that it’s prohibited to land and walk on the formations. I don’t think I’d want to though, after seeing all the guano-(bird poo). The pelicans, terns, penguins, seals and sea lions were impressive. I filmed a short movie from the boat with my camera. We made it back to the dock, ate breakfast and took off to see the rest of the reserve which Amy said was not as impressive. “It’s mostly desert, Matt, but there is a rock formation called the cathedral which is worth seeing.” So Ann stayed back, and Emily and I went to out to the reserve information center and to the Cathedral. I imagined something like Stonehenge, but it was a cave built into a cliff side. It was very windy, and sunny.
We left the reserve and to our surprise, in the tour bus cabin (where we sat) sparks began to fly. Emily freaked out, just about attacked me to sling the door open and we both jumped out to watch in horror as the bus exploded. But nothing happened. We waited on the desert sand, the bus a mere 20 feet away and still nothing happened. The rest of the passengers, a high school tour group, their chaperones, and a married couple (all Peruvian) waited in the vehicle patiently for the problem to be fixed. Meanwhile, Emily and I stomped in the sand, swearing in English about what “could have happened”.
Once again, people thought we were crazy. We were motioned to get back on the bus and sit next the sparking dashboard, reluctantly we obliged. It was the death trap, or a long walk through the desert to the city. We passed straw houses, with thatched roofs and imagined what life would be like for those people. All the sudden my adobe room didn’t seem that rustic. Least I have windows and a door.
The rest of the trip was uneventful; we made it back to Pisco, than to Lima and took an overnight bus to Trujillo. I took out my contacts, ate an “empanada” and fell asleep to a lame dubbed movie.
None of the three of us had ever been to Ica, and even though it’s only a few hours by bus from Lima we had been reading in our guide books that it’s a great tourist vacation spot. In spite of the fact that Peruvians think I’m a tourist everyday, (at least when I’m out of site) this time I really wanted to be a tourist. The trip wouldn’t be too expensive, as long as I could stay on a budget (yeah right!). We had planned to hit three of the major cities in the department, Pisco, Nazca and Ica.
I hadn’t been away from La Libertad for months and was really looking forward to a relaxing and adventurous trip. On Halloween my good friend Emily and I took an overnight bus to Lima, arrived at 7am and immediately looked for the bus terminal to the city of Ica. We knew it was another 4-5 hours south to the city of Ica and we wanted to at least do some site seeing that first day. In transit we passed corn, cotton, asparagus, banana, and olive grove fields. Our friend Amy, who lives in Ica recommended that we stay in Huacachina which is a beautiful oasis in the middle of sand dunes. The oasis once was natural water, but now it’s pumped in from a far. People told us the water had special healing powers.
We checked into a cheap but posh hostel ($10 a piece) and learned from the staff about the popular sports of sand boarding and dune buggy rental. Other volunteers had done it and we thought it was worth the experience. Besides, I though, “When am I ever going have the opportunity to sand board on desert cliffs?” I’m from NH for Christ’s sake! Emily and I thought about it over a drink at the bar by the pool. We met a girl from Ireland who had just come in from Nazca. She told us about the famous Nazca lines and how it was spectacular. She was terribly sunburned from hiking through Chile with a group of Europeans.
We left our hostel to go to the bank in the city of Ica and see if there was anything touristy we could do while waiting for Ann to arrive from Lima. Due to the fact that it was a holiday (All saints day) the wine vineyards were closed. But to our advantage the city museum was open. A taxi driver in Trujillo had told me the night before that it was a cool museum especially for the mummies.
And the taxista was right. Ancient mummies from pre-Inca civilizations of the Paracas and Nazcan people. What a site! I have a fond appreciation for hidden tombs, ancient burial sites, barbaric surgical procedures, and learning about the beliefs and customs from these Peruvian ancestors. The museum also had a fascinating display of deformed skulls-similar to the Chinese foot binding history, these ancient people believed in tightly wrapping the skulls of their infants. Resulting in cranial deformities and even death. The skulls looked like alien remains, oval in shape, instead of round. How creepy!
Ann arrived that night to the hostel, and we planned out the next three days. We thought best to see a vineyard, (Ica is Peru’s wine country) and than sand board in the early evening to save ourselves from the sweltering sun. We toured two wineries, known as “bodegas”. Tacama is south America’s oldest winery. We met a family of Spaniards that day, and joined their tour. They were impressed with our Spanish, and that we could hold our own at the wine tasting portion. I bought a bottle for my host family. Later we ate toured a less commercial, more authentic home made winery where we learned about the more genuine way to make wine. This place was called Bodega Lazo, and was definitely less touristy but fun all the same. We tried their Pisco-from the national Peruvian drink Pisco Sour- and I choked it down. It’s like 90 proof.
Sanding was left to the afternoon, back at Huacachina. We argued prices and eventually got what we wanted, S/.40 a piece. Ann who is the most practical girl I know (she brings a small backpack for a week long trip) had only brought one pair of shoes…heals. I said, “Your going into the dunes in those? Damn girl!” Evidently she had forgotten about this opportunity when packing so lightly. The dune buggies are large, hand made 4x4 vehicles that looked dangerous to even stand next too. But I jumped in. And we were off, our driver tearing through the little town to place us neatly on top of the impressive sand dunes. It was anything but neat, like an amusement park ride. I was jolted, jostled, and molded into a new human being as we speed through the dunes, flying through the air over hills and peaks. Sand blew into my eyes, and into my dread locks. Once stopped, we appreciated the view, and jumped back into the car, snapped seat belts (logical) and drove off to another cliff.
From this point we tried sand boarding, very similar to snow boarding minus the snow. And the board is very basic, I mean a child could have made it in shop class. A plain rectangle, double tipped, and fabric bindings. I laughed even harder at the thought of Ann in heals in the shitty bindings. But, as the soldier she is, she sand boarded barefoot. Now that’s hardcore. After a few tries, and a few face plants in the sand…I picked up the technique. I was part of the elite few on the internationally known, John Stark Ski Team at one point in my short life. And turns out, sand boarding is way easier than snow boarding or even skiing for that matter. They waxed up our boards and we were off. Even Emily and Ann, self proclaimed “non-athletic” were rocking the sand (no pun intended) and taking hilarious pictures.
The sunset from the dunes was remarkable. And than it was dark. And cold. That night was left for Nazca the much anticipated excursion farther south to see the lines. Now these lines are more than special, they are enigmatic ground markings that have bewildered scientists and locals for centuries. And they can only be seen from one place, an aerial view by aircraft. The lines in the desert sand were made by the nazca people in AD 300-1000. There are dozens of symbols but the most intriguing are of plant and animal life of that time period. We arrived that night in the city of Nazca and were bombared with tourism agencies and taxi’s the moment we stepped off the bus. I wanted very badly to be a Peruvian and not an American in that moment. Complete chaos, people yelling, and a decision needed to be made. I knew we wouldn’t be going through this if we weren’t such blatent looking tourists. A man yelled my name. I looked up and he motioned us to his taxi. He was a hotel owner whose co-worker had met up hours earlier on the bus ride from the city of Ica. We agreed to stay at his hotel, because it was ridiculously cheap, $3.00 a piece.
Let’s just say the hotel is not worth writing about on this blog nor to the publishers of Lonely Plant or the Rough Guide. It’s just a place to rest, I say. We were there for a mear 8 hours. Fortunatly I took the advice from somebody to not eat breakfast as the short flight over the lines can be nauseous provoking. We watched a short video from terminal as the pilot prepped the plane. And once aboard I clutched on to the barf bag. How romantic. Emily took most of the pictures out the side windows as I dry heaved. And once that passed I enjoyed the rest of the flight. And I thought I was conditioning myself of this motion sickness problem by taking such rustic means of transport throughout the country. I guess not. I have yet to throw up on a Peruvian bus. And god knows those little 15 hour rides can be torture.
We ate breakfast and took a long drive out to a series of ceremonial burial cemeteries where the Nasca people built underground tombs and mummified their loved ones in the fetal position. The sun has damaged some of the sites, but most were in remarkably good shape given their age. The coolest part was the hair of the mummies, visible, thick dreadlocks. Evidently the longer and thicker your locks the more prestige one had. Sounds like my kind of peeps.
Next, our taxi driver took us to a ceramic making artisan, and than to a gold mining shop. Both owners still use traditional means in their craft. The ceramic maker molds, paints and glazes his work all by hand and heats the pottery in a adobe like stove. He uses his own facial oils to glaze his work. Likewise the gold miner uses a special filtration process to pull gold properties from other precious stones, they than purify the gold by grinding it with huge boulders. It’s refreshing to see laborers who maintain the age old methods of their artisan work.
We did some shopping in the plaza of Nazca and visited another museum less exciting than other exhibits we had seen, but a very modern and clean place. I liked the aqueducts outside the museum which were still in their original state. Emily realized at that point that she left her camera in Huacachina the night before at a store. We took a quick bus back north to Ica to look for the camera. But upon arriving at the exact location where she remembered setting it down, it wasn’t there. Fortunately for someone, it was a good find. But that left us down on luck, spirits low.
Still to come was another bus ride north to Pisco. This third city was similar to Ica and Nazca, in fact there town centers are so similar I was getting confused about where I was. That’s a sign of real foreigner. Lost, Confused and Helpless. Luck for me, I had two female bodyguards. We checked into our hotel, recommended by Amy, and made reservations next store with a travel agency who would take us to Paracas and the national reserve. Amy who is a PC environment volunteer works in the reserve to preserve the Ballesta Islands. While I’m in the sierra teaching people how to washing their hands, she’s on the coast playing with seals, sea lions and penguins. ¡No es justo!
An early start of 7:30am got us on a tour bus to the reserve. We took a boat out to the islands and saw another mysterious figure in the sand (much like the lines) but of a large candle stick instead.
The fog swept in and as we moved further from the coast my bare legs trembled. Shorts. What a dumb idea. They were the only clean thing to wear. The Ballesta Islands were hugs rocks covered with a diverse ecosystem of birds. So many different species land there, some endangered, that it’s prohibited to land and walk on the formations. I don’t think I’d want to though, after seeing all the guano-(bird poo). The pelicans, terns, penguins, seals and sea lions were impressive. I filmed a short movie from the boat with my camera. We made it back to the dock, ate breakfast and took off to see the rest of the reserve which Amy said was not as impressive. “It’s mostly desert, Matt, but there is a rock formation called the cathedral which is worth seeing.” So Ann stayed back, and Emily and I went to out to the reserve information center and to the Cathedral. I imagined something like Stonehenge, but it was a cave built into a cliff side. It was very windy, and sunny.
We left the reserve and to our surprise, in the tour bus cabin (where we sat) sparks began to fly. Emily freaked out, just about attacked me to sling the door open and we both jumped out to watch in horror as the bus exploded. But nothing happened. We waited on the desert sand, the bus a mere 20 feet away and still nothing happened. The rest of the passengers, a high school tour group, their chaperones, and a married couple (all Peruvian) waited in the vehicle patiently for the problem to be fixed. Meanwhile, Emily and I stomped in the sand, swearing in English about what “could have happened”.
Once again, people thought we were crazy. We were motioned to get back on the bus and sit next the sparking dashboard, reluctantly we obliged. It was the death trap, or a long walk through the desert to the city. We passed straw houses, with thatched roofs and imagined what life would be like for those people. All the sudden my adobe room didn’t seem that rustic. Least I have windows and a door.
The rest of the trip was uneventful; we made it back to Pisco, than to Lima and took an overnight bus to Trujillo. I took out my contacts, ate an “empanada” and fell asleep to a lame dubbed movie.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Projects, Projects, Proyectos
It´s been a long and busy month, this October. Certainly my heavy work load has made the time pass quickly. I´m continuing with my community health projects, and secondary activities, and as always finding a weekend here and there to escape to Trujillo for a break from the sierra.
I´m making house visits in Nuevo California to families in desperate need of health education. Since August we´ve covered many topics, handwashing, self esteem, decision making, oral health, communication, safe water, diarrhea, and reproductive health. I see little progress with the mothers and families, which one may say is depressing, but I know changing habits takes more than a few months of teachings.
The youth group I work with brings me a lot of enjoyment. They are full of energy and ideas, and have gone from a shy group of kids to a loud and boisterous bunch. We too have covered many health topics, those listed above and specific topics for their ages. Nutrition is a recurring subject (if they start to change their diets, they can see results as they grow into adults), we´ve played leadership games, and organized a cooking competition in the school. -The most balanced plate?-First Prize included a dish with meat, dairy, fruits, vegetables and grains! ¡Qué Rico! Those of us from the health post were judges and got to try all the food.
I´m also working with a group of parents-the moms and dads of kindergarten kids in town. This group has been harder to consistently meet with because the parents are busy working in their fields or in their homes. We´ve postponed and rescheduled many meetings. I have to use different techniques teaching parents about family health, many can´t read and have very short attention spans. Not to mention they bring there kids and toddlers to our meetings. You can imagine the environment, it´s far from conducive to learning. I found that I have to offer a lot of incentives to get people to attend, like free soap, tooth brushes, snacks, and free food.
Last week we hung up the finalized map on the health post wall. Juan and I had been working on it, on and off for 8 months! I´m very proud with the final project. It´s really a work of art and very useful for community health assessment and analysis. The house number projects cooriletes with the house numbers on the map, and every community member has been counted. Babies to the elderly.
This month we´ve also been furiously vaccinating everyone between 2 years old-39 years old for German measles and Rubueola. See, these are vacccines that Americans receive at birth, but Peruvians never had access to the vaccines, until now. After a long history of childhood illness and deaths, the gov. received foreign aide in hopes of vaccinating 100% of the population (of stated ages) to erraticate the viruses. The national campain is part of our work as peace corps health volunteers because we can educate, promote and organize people to participate in the campaign. Many of my friends are speaking over the radio or local television stations about the campain, and others are making house visits. I´ve been vaccinating too, but mostly helping with the record keeping.
And speaking of viruses....I just got over a viral infeccion, four days of hell. As timing goes this was the same week that 5 PC trainees from Lima came to shadow me in Carata. They also arrived with a trainer, and a language teacher. So not only was I suppose to train newbees but do it with diarrhea and vomit. Nevertheless we completed amazing projects in just four days, like building a stove, a letrine, and attending and teaching three meetings. They even helped me with my water project by collecting hygiene/sanitation data from the locals. I meet some great friends and was proud to be a part of their field based training. In just one year I´ve gone from trainee to trainer. It takes a village to raise a peace corps volunteer!
I´m making house visits in Nuevo California to families in desperate need of health education. Since August we´ve covered many topics, handwashing, self esteem, decision making, oral health, communication, safe water, diarrhea, and reproductive health. I see little progress with the mothers and families, which one may say is depressing, but I know changing habits takes more than a few months of teachings.
The youth group I work with brings me a lot of enjoyment. They are full of energy and ideas, and have gone from a shy group of kids to a loud and boisterous bunch. We too have covered many health topics, those listed above and specific topics for their ages. Nutrition is a recurring subject (if they start to change their diets, they can see results as they grow into adults), we´ve played leadership games, and organized a cooking competition in the school. -The most balanced plate?-First Prize included a dish with meat, dairy, fruits, vegetables and grains! ¡Qué Rico! Those of us from the health post were judges and got to try all the food.
I´m also working with a group of parents-the moms and dads of kindergarten kids in town. This group has been harder to consistently meet with because the parents are busy working in their fields or in their homes. We´ve postponed and rescheduled many meetings. I have to use different techniques teaching parents about family health, many can´t read and have very short attention spans. Not to mention they bring there kids and toddlers to our meetings. You can imagine the environment, it´s far from conducive to learning. I found that I have to offer a lot of incentives to get people to attend, like free soap, tooth brushes, snacks, and free food.
Last week we hung up the finalized map on the health post wall. Juan and I had been working on it, on and off for 8 months! I´m very proud with the final project. It´s really a work of art and very useful for community health assessment and analysis. The house number projects cooriletes with the house numbers on the map, and every community member has been counted. Babies to the elderly.
This month we´ve also been furiously vaccinating everyone between 2 years old-39 years old for German measles and Rubueola. See, these are vacccines that Americans receive at birth, but Peruvians never had access to the vaccines, until now. After a long history of childhood illness and deaths, the gov. received foreign aide in hopes of vaccinating 100% of the population (of stated ages) to erraticate the viruses. The national campain is part of our work as peace corps health volunteers because we can educate, promote and organize people to participate in the campaign. Many of my friends are speaking over the radio or local television stations about the campain, and others are making house visits. I´ve been vaccinating too, but mostly helping with the record keeping.
And speaking of viruses....I just got over a viral infeccion, four days of hell. As timing goes this was the same week that 5 PC trainees from Lima came to shadow me in Carata. They also arrived with a trainer, and a language teacher. So not only was I suppose to train newbees but do it with diarrhea and vomit. Nevertheless we completed amazing projects in just four days, like building a stove, a letrine, and attending and teaching three meetings. They even helped me with my water project by collecting hygiene/sanitation data from the locals. I meet some great friends and was proud to be a part of their field based training. In just one year I´ve gone from trainee to trainer. It takes a village to raise a peace corps volunteer!
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