(Note, I tried to post this earlier this week, but the cables in Yanacoto were stolen – apparently to sell on the black market – so no phone or Internet access until the cables were replaced. Pretty sure we had to buy back our stolen cables. Seriously.)
Sorry to all of my loyal readers for the lapse in posting. I’ve been busy collecting blog-worthy stories out in the campo of Peru. I’ve just returned from a week of FBT (field-based training; Peace Corps loves acronyms) in the department of Cajamarca. It was an intense, fun and hilarious week. As almost all weeks are here.
We split the business sector into two groups, so I traveled with eight other trainees from business. The main objective was to get out in the field and apply some of what we’ve learned/observed in training. We taught a four-day business simulation workshop to students at a technical institute in San Pablo, a small town in the mountains of Cajamarca. We spent the first three days teaching basic business skills, such as accounting, marketing, market analysis, etc. Then the students got a loan from the Banco de Paz (i.e., the Cuerpo de Paz trainers posing as bankers) and had 24 hours to carry out their own business. The workshop ended with each group repaying their loan (thankfully every group did) and determining their net profit. It was a great, if not extremely awkward, experience to actually get up in front of people and test the waters of receptiveness to our teaching material, style, etc. I’d just like to remind you that this is all in Spanish. Everything. So that was a huge ego boost too, just to know that I can actually get through the material in Spanish. I still have a ways to go to be really comfortable expressing myself, but this week certainly proved that I can get by.
All of our students’ businesses were making and selling food, with the exception of one. One group put on a round robin soccer tournament. Sadly the gringo team lost in the first round, and therefore was not a contender for first prize: a live goat. Second place got two bottles of soda.
Our little teaching group put on a puppet show the first day as a “fun” way to start talking about entrepreneurship and business plans. After class that day, I was walking through the streets of San Pablo with the puppets in my hand (we were saving the puppets to take our show on the road, it was such a hit). A couple of girls approached me to ask me about my puppets. I was thrilled they recognized that they were actually puppets, seeing as how they were made of sticks, plastic bottles, magazine cutouts and masking tape. Turns out these girls were doing a thesis project on puppets and so were very familiar with puppets of all types. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, I asked if they wanted the puppets. They eagerly accepted. I’m pretty sure they would have in fact paid for my plastic bottles attached to sticks, but since Peace Corps frowns on volunteers making a profit, I generously donated my puppets in the spirit of international goodwill and learning. And because I am confident my legacy will live on in San Pablo. They really like puppets.
I also learned a lot about Peruvian transportation. Namely that anything goes and nothing is on time. Ever. Our bus from Lima to Cajamarca city arrived three hours late (bringing the total trip to just under 20 hours) mainly because the driver got lost getting out of Lima and then decided to go approximately 20 miles under the speed limit the entire way. By the time we got to Cajamarca city and ate a quick lunch, the driver of the collectivo that was supposed to drive us to San Miguel was drunk. So we couldn’t take that. Instead we piled 11 people (plus drivers) and all of our luggage into TWO taxis for the three-hour trip. Let me repeat: 11 people in two regular-sized taxis for three hours. It was terrible. I lost feeling in the entire left side of my body for several hours. About an hour into the drive, we came across a police checkpoint. The driver got out and started talking to the police, I was sure it was because we had seven people in one car. But at that point, I would have been happy to ride in the luxuriously spacious police car. But alas, the police were merely checking for documents, which our driver did not have. The police threatened an S./ 800 ticket, the driver offered a S./ 20 bribe. Bribe accepted, and away we go. The other cab, which mysteriously took a different route, got stuck on a wooden bridge. The parking brake cable was stuck in one of the wooden slats. Everyone had to get out and push the car forward to nudge it across. Then they walked across the bridge.
Sadly, due to the aforementioned issues, we arrived too late to milk cows at a dairy farm in San Miguel. I did pet several cows and ate my weight in cheese, so all was not lost. I also had a hot shower in San Miguel. Well, it was tepid. But it was heavenly. I was hopeful for the rest of the week. Upon arriving in San Pablo, we were shown around our living quarters for the week…a church. We slept in giant rooms with bunk beds and had to walk outside, down some stairs and across a courtyard to get to the bathroom. It was just like summer camp! The fact that the water turned off after 9pm and the electric water heater started smoking the first time someone tried to use it didn’t really bother me at all. I’m really getting the hang of this Peace Corps thing. (Also, I only showered three times the whole week. Don’t judge. You don’t know how cold that water can be.)
I also learned that pretty much anything can and will happen in this country. Small story: we were walking to the institute one afternoon for the final session of classes. We reach the bottom of a hill only to find that the main road has been blocked off for a couple of blocks. Mind you, none of the side roads are closed and people and cars are milling about everywhere (well, about as many people and cars as can be expected in a town of 3,000 people) right up to the arbitrarily placed barricade. We come to find out that the blockade is because there is about to be an explosion in a mine above the town. Ah, no worries, we’ll just take an alternate path to the institute. Through the campo. As in, across and around muddy cow pastures. Wearing business casual, which included in my case, a very cheap pair of Steve Madden flats. Not the best mud-walking attire. Then the dynamite exploded. I couldn’t really tell where the fallout landed, but I’m pretty sure the one secure block wasn’t even close to the mine. Never mind the rest of the town, at least that one block had been protected. The noise frightened the cows, who began mooing (coincidentally, it sounds nothing like "moo") quite loudly and heading for us. We emerged from the pasture and arrived to the institute to find some students selling skewered chicken hearts. Then we had to a closing ceremony during which the nine gringos performed a choreographed routine to MJ's Thriller in front of 150 very confused Peruvians. Then the director of the institue bought us some gaseosas (sodas) as a thank you. We drank them in the parking lot. A good day.
I uploaded some pictures to my Picassa album (http://picasaweb.google.com/jessjoye25/FBTJuly2009?authkey=Gv1sRgCJ6w1aXymqbugAE#). Lots of scenery shots, but it was gorgeous! We find out our sites on Friday! Send good thoughts my way...and I will keep you all posted so you can start planning your trips to Peru!
Thanks for the store about the puppets. Justin PCT (my brother) told me about the puppets but I was so mad because the first thing he tells me is that he got the package I sent with the magazines but he cut up the La Mujer Magazine for a Puppet Show. He said he was mad at me first for sending it until he read my letter and I sent it for his host mother. (It was the only Spanish magazine at Books-a-Millon) But regardless at least it was cut up for a good cause.
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