Parental Peru

Well, it’s official. Liz and Ed have conquered Peru. Or at least the hearts of the people of Huaca Rajada. But let’s start at the beginning. As many of you know, my parents recently made the intrepid journey to the southern hemisphere to spend a couple weeks vacationing, Peruvian style. I had been looking forward to their trip for months, eagerly planning a jam-packed itinerary. We were not to be bored! I think we can all agree that the trip turned out differently than we’d expected, but that we were all extremely fortunate to have this time together.

I met them at the airport in Lima late one night and we headed straight for Miraflores (what I like to call “Peru for beginners”). I tried to keep the conversation going so they wouldn’t take too much notice of the slums of Lima outside our window. The drive to the airport is not this country’s strong point. It was so amazing to see them after all this time, and reassuring to once again realize that no matter where you go in life, your parents will always be your parents. We spent a couple days in Lima checking out some of the city’s highlights – churches, museums, illegal electronic markets and of course, the delicious restaurants. I selfishly dragged them to all the eateries I’m too poor to afford on my own for nachos, Italian food and other non-Peruvian dishes. They didn’t seem to mind too much. Especially retrospectively after seeing what was in store the following week…

Pisco Sours...a Peruvian delicacy.

We also took a couple day trips to the department of Ica where we took a boat tour of the Islas Bellestas, aka, the poor man’s Galapagos. We also spent a day/night in Huacachina, a true desert oasis famous for the ridiculously fun and exhilarating dune buggy/sandboarding tours. A definite highlight of the whole trip. Bouncing across desert sand dunes at 50mph at sunset is something I won’t soon forget.

¨Maternity beach,¨ where sea lions go to birth.

Boat touring in style.
The best dune buggy ever.

After one final night in Lima, we headed north for Chiclayo. Before our bags even made it off the plane, I made an impulsive decision to urge Mom and Dad to rethink our lodging. A couple weeks earlier I’d booked a triple room (i.e., three beds, one room) at a Peace Corps-friendly hotel. It’s a great place, centrally located and with a super-friendly staff, but after a week of traveling with my parents, I realized that my Peru was not their Peru. And that one little room was looking smaller and smaller upon every reflection. Turns out they didn’t need much prompting. Moments later we were on a private shuttle to the Gran Hotel, Chiclayo’s version of the Ritz. But you know, much less ritzy. I felt more than a little guilty about staying in such a nice place, but minutes after collapsing into a king-size bed, cranking up the A/C and helping myself to the in-room mini-bar, I decided after nine months of living on less than $10 a day, I’d earned a little pampering.

Dad´s first juice in a bag.

Comfortably ensconced in our climate-controlled suite, we mapped out Parental Peru Part Two. Relieved to be back on my home turf, I made plans for my parents to meet my Peruvian families – my PC friends and my host family. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, I led my parents to my site. One combi ride later – during which I think my dad finally understood just how tough it is to be tall in this country – we arrived in Huaca Rajada. My usual welcome committee (neighborhood kids) stopped in their tracks as I lumbered up the hill, suitcases and two more gringos in tow. Word spread quickly and soon everyone was peering out of their doors and into my window inspecting the new arrivals. We sat down to lunch with my host family, and despite the language barrier, I think everyone got along swimmingly. My amazing translation skills didn’t hurt either, nor did the fact that no one but me will ever really know what was said…

Dad taught the boys fist pumps, Mom introduced new games (that we’re still playing on an almost daily basis) and I read stories out loud. We’re a regular Sesame Street family – spreading knowledge and laughter wherever we go.

Families bonding.

Twenty-four hours later, I think Mom and Dad had had enough of campo life – though they were troopers, staying in my house, eating the food, trying to communicate – and we headed back to our grand oasis in Chiclayo. We spent their final few days in and around Chiclayo, checking out some of the excellent history museums, eating lots of pollo a la brasa and spending a day at the beach. And then before I knew it, they were off.

It was at times a whirlwind trip and it took me a few days to process all that really happened. I realized that the divergence between my life here and my old life in the U.S. is a lot greater than I’d realized or anticipated. Even having my parents here and showing them a little of what I’m doing didn’t go nearly as far as I’d thought to bridge that gap. It’s one thing to spend a few hours in a place and quite another to live there for six months. It was probably my fault for expecting too much understanding too quickly. I was rereading some older blog posts recently and was laughing to myself at the things I found odd four months ago. I’m still learning and adjusting! In my quest to be the perfect tour guide and hostess, I forgot to allow them the luxury of being overwhelmed and confused by this country. I was quick to explain everything away and defend my current home. That being said, I do think they have a much better understanding of at least what my life looks like and some of the daily difficulties I encounter. And for that, I will be forever grateful that they made this trip. That and, of course, the many many laughs, hugs and memories we shared. Thanks, Mom and Dad! I miss you all over again.