Modern Mascot

(NB, I wrote this post several weeks ago but due to a lot of time in site (see below) and a trip to the Amazon jungle (to be elaborated in a future post), my Internet access has been limited to say the least. Better late than never, right? Enjoye!)

On the heels of my parents’ visit and the subsequent traveling, I vowed to myself to spend a good chunk of quality time in my site. I returned from my respite in the fancy hotels of Peru rejuvenated and inspired to get back to work. Summer vacation is officially over, for both the kids and me. School is back in session and everyone has returned from their summer travels to Lima. Huaca Rajada is back up to full capacity, 724 people to be exact, and it’s feeling a little crowded.

With many hours to fill and nowhere to go, I’ve spent the past few weeks working on several projects, both new and old. I’m excited to have started my classes again – English twice a week and a culture club with kids (as always, teaching tips or cultural ideas welcome!). The costura (sewing) women are developing a new line of products made from an environmentally-friendly canvas/cotton blend, so I’ve been working with them to develop inventory, pricing and coding on the new products. We’re also setting up a new stand to display their work in the complex, which I’m hoping I can use as a starting point for a broader marketing workshop for all the artisans, particularly with regard to stand organization. As it stands now (haha), everyone throws every product they have on a table with a multi-colored tablecloth. It’s not exactly conducive to highlighting the quality of their work. I’ve also been loitering around the school trying to get some ideas off the ground with some professors and students. As always, persistence is key. If nothing else, everyone in this town is used to seeing me hang around.

Enjoying my culinary masterpiece: guacamole.

Some of our new products.

Despite my renewed work ethic, there are still many hours in a day to fill…especially at night. In the past two-and-a-half weeks I have read five books and watched a lot of episodes of Sex and the City, which upon further reflection is a lot like my life in Huaca Rajada. Except instead of the fabulous clothes, I walk around in dirty t-shirts and sandals made of old tires. And in lieu of dining at the hottest restaurants with my girlfriends, I eat giant bowls of rice twice a day with my six-year-old nephew. And as far as hitting the town and meeting beautiful men…well, I sit in my room alone and watch TV shows starring beautiful people on my laptop. But otherwise, really similar.

But more than anything I’ve been spending a lot of time with my host family. And I’ve had a revelation – I am my family’s pet. I follow them wherever they go, trotting behind at a comfortable distance blindly trusting that they will lead me to safety. We go to parties, weddings, church anniversaries, soccer tournaments. I don’t ask questions; they give a little tug on my invisible leash and off we go. Occasionally I do a little trick or say something funny and everyone laughs; their laughter the belly rubs I so desperately crave. They ring the dinner bell and I obediently take my place at the table and wait to be served.

I came to this revelation last Sunday. My host brother was playing in a soccer tournament in Pampagrande, so Papy, Bryan and I went to watch. A couple hours of soccer later – not being the biggest soccer fan, I amused myself by counting the number of times the makeshift stretcher was called to the field, apparently Peruvians make up for what they lack in skill in drama – I was ready to get out of the sun and head home. But Papy felt the need to give a lengthy pep-talk to Pierre’s losing team. Not having anywhere else to go, I stood an awkward 20 feet away from the circle where the players were changing, gossiping and doing things generally reserved for locker rooms. They must have thought I was some sort of mute groupie. Papy finally finished and headed off the field. A few paces later, he remembered me, turned his head and flicked his wrist, I bounded up behind him and we made for home so I could be fed.

What happens to bad pets.

Oh, and this just occurred to me: when we found our new puppy back in December my family wanted to name it Jessica because he (yes, a he) had blue eyes. Or so they said. Perhaps they understood this analogy far earlier than I did. Luckily we decided on Rambo for the dog -- two pets named Jessica would just be confusing.

NB, mascota = pet in Spanish. Hence the title of this post. Witty in two languages. What.