Busy Bee

(written 27 September)

And so it continues. I’m happy to report that the past week has been pleasantly positive and righteously ridiculous. I’m moving steadily forward with my Year of Yes campaign. The last week has found me in the following situations: dressed as a beekeeper in a parade, judging a livestock competition, serving as reina of said competition, as the lone female at a Sunday night cockfight, and sharing three twin beds with five people. But let’s start from the beginning.

As you all surely know, September 23 is national beekeeping day in Peru. Fortunately for you readers, I was not aware of this fact (makes for a much better story). Last Wednesday I woke to my host dad knocking on my window at 7am. This has never happened, my family pretty much leaves me on my own in the mornings. Confused I groggily answered (through the window mind you, without opening the curtain to actually look at him) and agreed to accompany him to Chiclayo in about an hour. Having no idea what I’m doing or why is pretty common, so I’m going about my getting ready routine (brush teeth, put on same clothes from yesterday, boil water, drink coffee) when my host sister knocks on my door and hands me a beekeeping outfit (white jumpsuit, mask, rubber gloves and boots) and instructs me to pack it in my backpack. I assumed that perhaps I’d misunderstood and we were in fact going out to the campo to look at my dad’s bees. Nonplussed, I stuffed the outfit in my pack and took off the earrings I’d put on for my day in the big city (note, adding earrings to an outfit clearly denotes special occasion). We get on the combi a short time later and I find out we actually are headed to Chiclayo. As the plans unfold I begin to understand that we will be participating in a parade. I had a sneaking suspicion that this could only end with me looking a fool. Correct I was. Papy and I make our way to the beekeeper’s lodge, don our jumpsuits and proudly take our places in the back of a pick-up truck with Miss Beekeeper 2009, a small child dressed as a bee, and a lot of balloons. We then proceed to drive all over the city for the next two hours, waving signs, clapping, blowing our whistles, the whole bit. Unfortunately since this was the inaugural celebration of Peruvian beekeepers, the parade was less a parade and more like two pick-up trucks and a motorcycle. Don’t worry though; we’re already in talks about next year’s pasacalle. Pretty sure I’ve agreed to help organize. Anything for the union. For the hundredth time in the last month, I really really wished my camera hadn’t been stolen. I look good in white.

In what turned out to be a Papy and Jessica bonding week, I also agreed to accompany (This is a very popular word in Peruvian Spanish, by the way. I think it makes me seem important and helpful) him to a fair over the weekend. This was also an inaugural event, it turned out to be less artisan fair and more livestock competition. One of my artisans (the slightly crazy lady I mentioned in a previous blog) was not pleased by this turn of events and kept grumbling about how no one wanted to buy her algarroba. I too was a little confused the first morning since we were camped out in the middle of a shantytown, pigs being slaughtered to our left and fried to our right. Until I met some of the organizers and they invited me to join the first drinking circle of the day…at 10am. After that, I started having a lot more fun. Highlights from Friday include: sitting on the stage with the mayor for the breaking of bread (or goat as the case may be), dancing with the mayor and various other veterinarians on the stage, being serenaded by a Renaissance minstrel group (yes, they were wearing tights. No, this did not diminish their coolness in the least. A musician is a musician.). Pleased with myself for making so many new friends, I readily agreed to come back the next day. Arriving on Saturday morning, I was again reminded of how absolutely inconspicuous all of my actions are. Everyone in this little town knew my name, everyone reminded me of promises made and everyone was ready for me to join their drinking circle again. Prudently and politely I spent the morning talking to the few artisans and trying to get the word out about the great work in Huaca Rajada. After I managed to score an interview on a local news station talking about my work, I decided I’d earned a little break. I went over to look for some of my new friends and found them occupied (being veterinarians and cattle ranchers) in the organization of the cow judging. They invited me to join them. I, of course, said yes. Several hours later and more cows than I was able to count, I had someone finagled my way into position as both a judge in the competition and its queen (resplendent in a sparkly sash and all). The afternoon is somewhat a blur, but I do recall touching a number of udders, begging for a milking competition (we ran out of time), posing for countless pictures and agreeing to let my new friends plan a birthday party for me. Sadly we don’t get a lot of access to media here in the campo so I can’t report with certainty that my picture or interview actually made it to print/broadcast, but I’m fairly optimistic my reputation will precede me at any future argoindustrial event in the area.

These experiences (and countless others that I lack the energy and wit to properly recount now) have been hilarious and go a long way to making feel like I’m welcome and really integrating in the community. But at the same time I feel like I’m getting more out of this experience than I’m giving. I’m ready to bring more to the table than just sheer entertainment value. I plan on starting up some English classes at the museum/artisan complex in the next couple weeks. There’s also a group of kids that wants me to help them start an organic garden. That should be interesting considering I’ve never managed to keep an herb plant alive, much less things you actually have to plant and care for. It’s non-stop learning down here, friends.

Stay tuned for the next installment of “hey, let’s see what we can make the gringa do today!” I miss you all!
Bzzzily yours,
Jess

Postscript: In the days since writing the above post, I’ve come to an abrupt and humbling end to my reign as Miss Iron Stomach 2009. I’ve spent the past three days unable to leave a 10 foot radius of my, thank God, private bathroom. Amazing what illness and lack of food can do to a girl’s perspective. I no longer find the intestines bleaching on the clothesline funny. Nor do I find Peruvian’s grasp on modern medicine endearing. Just so you know – it’s not all fun and games here in the Peace Corps. Sometimes we’re sick. Sometimes we’re lonely. Sometimes we’re desperately bored. And when we’re really lucky, we’re all three. But I’m feeling better and I’m pretty sure I made plans to attend this weekend’s cockfight, where there will be a cock fighting in my honor. And I’ll leave it at that.