Campo Crazy

So, it’s been awhile. I am now writing to you as a real volunteer. No longer a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee), I have entered the realm of the illustrious PCV world (I’ll leave you to figure out that acronym). We swore in last Friday and the whole group spent one last, crazy night together in the posh parts of Lima, eating non-Peruvian food, drinking wine and just generally drinking away our anxiety.

I’m not going to lie this first week in site has been tough. It’s a weird adjustment to go from having every minute of every day planned for you to having absolutely nothing planned. To go from a group of 36 to a group of one. To go from our gringo bubble to the wide-open campo. To go from…you get the picture. And to do it all from inside a foreign language, that adds a whole new dimension. In Spanish I am reduced the simplest of sentences and expressions. Forget being funny and charming, I struggle with simply talking so as not to appear mute.

I can’t begin to explain the awkwardness of the past few days. I arrived to my site (after spending an extra day in Chiclayo, our regional capital (my excitement about heading to site quickly turned to “I-don’t-want-to-go-let’s-stay-here-together-and-eat-and-drink-and-speak-English-and-not-go-to-site-today-please-stay-with-me-please-ok-great-let’s-go-out.”)), on Monday afternoon only to find that no one from my host family save for my 6-year-old nephew was at the house. Brian gave me the key to my room so I started unloading my stuff. One of my host sisters showed up and helped with some bags and then told me she’d leave me alone to unpack. So I sat in my room for a couple of hours until they called me for dinner. I did get a cookie and some cake though, so clearly they love me. We’re saving the ticker-tape parade for another day.

I had a nice long chat with my host dad, who is super-motivated and has a lot of ideas for projects and opportunities. I really like him. Anyway, we were chatting and I look over to see mom pull a goat’s head out of a pot on the stove. My face must have given me away because they all started laughing and telling me about the goat they killed earlier that day. I went to bed with an uneasy feeling about the next day’s meals. Sure enough I was served goat intestine over rice for breakfast the next morning. Breakfast. Those of you who know me well can attest to my former picky eating habits. Well, there’s no room for picky in Peru. You eat what you’re served. And eat it I did. It tasted like what you would expect goat intestine to taste like, if you are so sadistic as to imagine such horrors. I think it says a lot that rice is my favorite part of many meals. I’ve since started running in the mornings and telling them I prefer to just eat a piece of fruit by myself in the mornings. For now I’m safe from future innards breakfasts.

Aside from plotting ways to avoid goat meals and forcing down mystery meats, I spent a good deal of the first couple days in my room, reading and watching movies on my laptop. I’ve taken the “slow adjustment integration” approach. And I think that’s OK. First order of business is to make myself comfortable and as happy as possible, and if I need some alone time to work up the will to pasear through town desperately searching for conversation, then that’s what I’m giving myself. Talking to all my PC friends it seems like we’re all in the same boat – doing a lot of sleeping, reading and free calling with our new cell phones. But I have been getting out more and more each day.

Yesterday I walked over to the artisan complex to talk with some of the artisans. I plopped myself down and started asking questions. It actually went really well. I got myself invited to a birthday party (where I had to dance with all the 17-year-old boys in the middle of giant circle…and pee outside while the mom watched me to make sure I didn’t fall down), got several free snacks, talked about some project ideas and coordinated with one of the artisans to go to a fair next weekend at a nearby university. I’ve also met with the director of the local school, who seems very willing to work with me. I’ve tentatively set up several meetings for next week. I’ve also already had several “meetings” cancelled or rescheduled. Oh, and I met one of the local political bigwigs, a municipality employee of some sort. My host dad and I went to his house one afternoon and he invited us in for a drink, in his underwear. Oh, Peru. How you taunt and tease me.

And I’m headed into Chiclayo today (or am actually already there by the time I post this) to do some shopping for my room and possibly go to the beach with my PC friends. So things are looking up. I keep telling myself it can only get less awkward from here.

I don’t mean to sound negative or down, I am excited to be here and I know these next two years are going to be full of amazing, enriching experiences. But the adjustment period is just that, an adjustment to a completely different life, far away from anything familiar. I am happy though and taking each day as it comes, content in the knowledge that I can do whatever I want because I’m already the weird gringa and they expect me to be odd. And I’m still laughing at all the little things, even if I have to laugh silently on the inside.

I miss you all, please write or call. I’ve updated my contact information on the right side of this page. We don’t have Internet in my site so be patient and keep reading and writing!

Oh, and no pictures for awhile...my camera was stolen a couple weeks ago in Lima. Sad times. My words will have to suffice for now. Paz afuera.

Lambayeque Living

I survived. I have made it through site visit, and here’s hoping it only gets less awkward from here. But all in all, I had a really good week. I really like my town and my new host family. I can already see a number of interesting work projects. I think I made two potential friends, and I’m only a 45-minute combi ride from the departmental capital, Chiclayo. But let’s start at the beginning.

I arrived in Chiclayo Monday morning with the four other Peru 13ers that will be living in Lambayeque. We had Monday free to explore the city, so some current volunteers came into meet us and give us the official Peace Corps tour, i.e., the good/cheap grocery stores, restaurants and bars. Chiclayo has everything you need (post offices, banks, cheese store) and a lot that I probably don’t – there’s a Starbucks and a movie theater! I imagine I’ll be treating myself to a movie and a latte at least once a month. I’m pretty sure I’ll have earned it. The city is really nice, it’s all walkable, much cleaner than Lima and the people seem really friendly. The only downfall is the aggressive macho behavior. It doesn’t bother me as much as it does some of the other girls, but I think we’ll all welcome the day when we’ve learned to yell back in Spanish. So Monday was pretty chill: we walked around, ate some ice cream, drank some coffee, ate some pizza, drank some wine.

We had an all-day meeting on Tuesday with our counterparts. My two counterparts arrived on time, which I took as a very promising start. (La hora peruana can leave you waiting for long stretches; I’ve already learned to bring a book with me everywhere I go.) One of my counterparts turned out to also be my new host dad. Don Papy, as everyone calls him, works for the museum in my town and is also a part of the artisan group (he sells honey). He seems really motivated about improving the town and we’ve already talked about a number of potential projects. He’s also lived in and around the town his entire life, so I feel pretty lucky to have him as a personal and professional resource. My other counterpart, Carlos, is vice president of the artisan group. He’s more reserved but also seems like a hard worker. The meeting was led by PC staff and was a basic introduction to Peace Corps, the roles of volunteers and counterparts, etc. I’m replacing a volunteer, so my counterparts were already familiar with the basics of Peace Corps.

After the meeting, Don Papy said he needed to run by the market before we headed back to site. Fine by me, I said. Off we go to the market, me with my giant gringo backpack traipsing through the narrow stalls, stepping over buckets of fish, around live chickens and dodging the ever-present taxis. We get to a glasscutter’s shop and order a piece of glass, which will be ready in 20 minutes. Back into the market we head, fearlessly knocking over Peruvians with their sacks of potatoes. Big Blue is back. Armed with a fresh chicken, some limes and a few green beans, we arrive back at the glass store. Ah, bad news. The glasscutter sliced open his hand and had to go to the hospital. There will be no glass for Don Papy today. I had a sneaking suspicion that this glass was for my room, otherwise I didn’t understand the urgency. Defeated we head off in a combi to my new home.

45 minutes later, and a world away, I step off the combi and walk up the dirt path to my house. There are two shirtless men in my room installing a lock, the window is missing a pane of glass, there is no curtain, and two (!?!) mattresses wrapped in plastic are sitting on the floor. I’m instructed to drop my bags and am shuttled off into another room to watch TV with my new host sister. The TV cable is dangling from the ceiling, I try to make conversation with Cinthia by asking what we’re watching (I can’t make anything out from the fuzz) and I get a one-word answer: “television.” Things were not off to a promising start. But 30 endless minutes later, I’m called back to my room. The door has a lock, the window had been taped over for now, a bed sheet serves as a temporary curtain and one bed has been unwrapped and made up for me. Peruvians are nothing if not resourceful.

My room is actually really nice. It’s separate from the rest of the house and is a new construction. It’s huge, a little barren now, but once I get all my stuff in there, it’s going to be great. And, best of all, I have my own bathroom! Granted there’s only running water a few hours a day, but still, the luxury of having my own bathroom cannot be overstated. Having my own door and separate entrance is also key, it goes a long way to restoring feelings of independence that have been sorely lacking the last couple months.

I met the rest of my family a bit later over dinner. We eat dinner outside, sort of; the main room is closed in by adobe walls and has a partial tin ceiling. The stove is open-flame, so there has to be somewhere for all the smoke to go. All the other rooms of the house are built around this little kitchen courtyard. It’s all very Peace Corps. I love it; it’s communal and cozy and familiar in a way that all family dynamics are. Everyone sits around a big wooden table under the stars, being served from ancient cast-iron pots and kettles. There’s a cage with about 25 cuyes (guinea pigs) squealing in the corner. And the dog, Oso (bear in Spanish), curls up under the table, lazily keeping one eye open for scraps of rice or potatoes. I have two host sisters, one host brother and a nephew. All of whom are really sweet and welcoming. We spent a lot of time sitting around that table talking about Peru, my family, the U.S., futbol…I foresee many hours around the old campfire, as it were.

I spent most of the rest of the week walking around the town, meeting some artisans and just generally talking to whoever would look my way. There are two ancient pyramids in my town from the Moche civilization (which pre-dates the Incas by more than 1,000 years), and it’s a live excavation site. I got to tour some of the dig sites and meet the archaeologists. There’s also a new museum that houses all of the recently found artifacts. I will soon be an expert in all things Moche.

This is already getting unbearably long, so I’ll leave off here for now. But suffice to say, I’m happy with my site and excited for what’s to come. One last mental image (it was too awkward to take many photos): one morning I came out for breakfast and noticed that there were several pieces of meat hanging from the clothesline. By dinnertime they were no longer there, our dinner contained some unidentifiable meat. I ate it all. It was good. My stomach is officially made of iron.

Weekly Wisdom #2

I spend most of my time valiantly trying to integrate and understand Peruvian people and culture. I speak in another language, live with a foreign family and voluntarily ride Peruvian public transportation. It’s exhausting. So sometimes it’s a relief (and fun) to relax in my gringa-ness and revel in the fact that people don’t expect me to speak the language. So, in the spirit of embracing differences and making the most out of my stupidity, I’ve compiled a new type of list.

Things you can do when you’re white (in Peru):
· Bring champagne and orange juice into a fast food pollo a la brasa restaurant to make your own mimosas. Drink loudly and obnoxiously, then argue with the waiter when he tries to charge a corkage fee (seriously, a corkage fee in a fast food restaurant?). Successfully refuse to pay the full charge (less than $5) on the grounds that you in fact opened your bottles of champagne.
· Agree to pay S./13 for a taxi. Hand the drive S./10 while your friend grabs the two rolls of toilet paper that are inexplicably in the center console. Pretend not to understand when he asks you for the extra S./3 (roughly $1), despite the 10 minute conversation you had in Spanish less than 5 minutes earlier. Get out.
· Fill up your water bottle from a water cooler in a pharmacy from which you purchased nothing.
· Pay S./1 for two people to home from Lima on a combi (cost should be about S./8 for two people). Feign sleep for much of the ride to avoid the cobrador, then actually fall asleep. Wake up, yell to get off, hand your one sol and don’t look back.

I realize after typing this that I look incredibly cheap. It’s true we do a lot of bargaining and haggling over prices, but I pay the correct price 95% of the time. The combi drivers can be incredibly obnoxious and often try to charge a gringo price, so it feels vindictive to pull one over on them every once in a while. Also, please remember that we are living on less than $3 a day right now. Every centimo counts. And the above all happened in one day, making it seem especially funny and clever.

This past week was pretty uneventful. July 28 is Peru’s independence day so we didn’t have classes Monday or Tuesday. The celebrations were subdued this year because of swine flu. Peru is very concerned about the swine flu. Schools have been closed since July 15 and won’t re-open until the second week of August. I don’t believe there have been a dramatic increase in cases, it’s just that they don’t have enough medicine so an outbreak could be devastating. Anyway, I spent a lot of time with my host family. We watched many movies and spent hours playing cards. I taught them Go Fish and for the past week, my host dad has said, “Jessica, ir al pescar,” every time I’ve seen him. Apparently they really liked the game.

I am leaving this afternoon to head to my site for the next week. I will be living in a tiny town (population: 1000) outside of Chiclayo, the regional capital of Lambayeque (north of Lima, on the coast). I’m really excited to see my town, meet my new host family and counterparts and start this whole Peace Corps thing. It’s sure to be an awkward and funny week. Can’t wait to share some great stories when I return!

Miss you all!