Amazing Americana

I came, I saw, I conquered. And I’m ready for more. It turns out six days can go by extremely quickly in the fast-paced first world. It was a whirlwind trip in all senses of the word, but reassuringly familiar at the same time. But let’s start from the beginning.

I had been looking forward to my first trip stateside for months, literally counting down the days for weeks. I barely slept the night before I left and subsequently arrived to the Lima airport with plenty of time to spare. I landed in Miami with tears in my eyes. Corny, I know, but I couldn’t help it – 16 months is a long time to be away from your home, your family, your friends. After clearing customs (where the customs agent gave me a hearty “Welcome home!” after seeing how long I’d been in Peru, again bringing tears to my eyes), I headed straight for the nearest airport bar and chowed down on a burger with fries and an ice cold Bud Light draught. I’d bought some magazines to peruse as I ate my lunch, but all I could focus on was eavesdropping on the conversations swirling around me in English. I’ve gotten pretty good at tuning out Spanish when I want to be left alone, but English? In America? Forget it – I desperately wanted to strike up one of those unique airport conversations. The kind where you become instant friends with a fellow traveler, revealing personal information on a whim because you know you’ll never see them again. I made a few new friends, but was soon whisked away on the quick shuttle flight to Charleston, where I was greeted by a joyefully tearful family waving signs.

I spent the next six days in a blissful haze of shared meals, wedding activities and familial comfort. It was almost as I’d never even left. Almost. I found myself noticing the strangest things – the incredible road maintenance, the friendliness of waitresses. I was amazed by the cleanliness of everything, the luxury of modern bathrooms (though I did continue to throw toilet paper away in the trashcan, much to my mother’s disgust), the scope and breadth of food options, and just how good we have it in the U.S. I don’t want to get preachy or political, and I am certainly aware of the problems in America, but, man, it is nice over there. We, collectively, are incredibly fortunate. I guess some clichés are true for a reason – you really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. And I certainly had no problem indulging myself in hot showers, cold beverages and warm beds.

Reunited and it feels so good

Keepin' it classy with some of my very favorite people

I’d be remiss not to mention the main impetus behind my quick trip home: to be a part of Britton and Rob’s wedding. I am so glad I was able to be there and share in their special weekend. It was a beautiful wedding (with lots of good food) and gave me the opportunity to see and catch up with a lot of old and dear friends. Thanks for including me, Britnin!

The happy couple

Suffice to say, the trip was over way too quickly. I struggled through my return travel day, spending nearly eight hours in the Miami airport where I gate- and restaurant-hopped the day away. Finally dragging myself to the Lima departure gate, I was greeted by mass confusion. Now there are a lot of Latin American-bound flights leaving from the Miami international terminal, but everywhere I turned were orderly travelers calmly boarding their flights. Until you reach the Peruvian gate – mayhem. Peruvians sprawled everywhere, playing cards, shouting into their cell phones, harassing the gate agent with all kinds of questions. I have no idea what was so dramatic about this particular flight – we left on time and it didn’t seem to be overbooked – but I had to shake my head and laugh a little. Peruvians live with gusto and it cheered me a little to recognize some familiarity even here, bound for my other home.

It’s incredibly reassuring to know that no matter how far you travel, or for how long, home will always be there to welcome you back. Thank you to everyone who gave me a hug, laughed at my stories, bought me a beer, and reminded me what true friends look like. I miss you all over again!

Work Week

Lest you think all I do is flit from one exotic locale to the next, I thought I'd take a minute to fill you in on some site- and work-related news. Generally, my vacations and misadventures on the road make for much more entertaining blog posts, but the real essence of Peace Corps is what happens when you're at site, alone, and without Internet to keep your loyal blog followers abreast of your day-to-day activities.

As you all know, (because I have proudly pointed it out numerous times) I've been in site now for more than a year, which means I'm now reliving events and occasions from last year -- birthdays, anniversaries, artisan fairs, etc. It's a really odd sensation to come back to these events from the perspective of a more experienced, less naive version of myself. Talking with my volunteer friends, it seems we're all having these mid-service musings, noticing that everything we thought was so weird and SO awkward last year now seems, well, normal.

The past few weeks have seen me enjoying the following activities: a super swanky, super professional gastronomic fair in Lima. I accompanied my crazy artisan friend who somehow scored an invite to display her algarrobina products, representing our department. We were so the campesinas at this thing. MISTURA, as it was called, makes the Charleston Food & Wine Fest look downright redneck. Seriously. There were apparently 40,000 visitors on day one, and chefs from all over the world. Maria and I were both a little overwhelmed, but we put on a brave front and ate our way through the next four days. And, on an exciting note, she sold all of the algarrobina she brought -- nearly S/. 2000 soles worth. It was a big deal for us, but I'm sure there were vendors there who were selling well into the tens of thousands.

Maria proudly displays her algarrobina

Hard at work. I promise she likes me.

Upon arriving back in site, I was greeted with the exciting news that it was time for the second annual livestock competition/fair in Pomalca. Loyal readers will recall my amazement at last year's inaugural event. I was so confused that whole time! I walked into an impressive number of admirers, all of whom remembered me from last year. I was immediately whisked away to the VIP stage, where I had to sit for hours upon hours staring out into the hot and dusty crowd. I judged a beauty pageant, pinned some ribbons on some prize heifers and tried to avoid the leers of the drunken cattle ranchers. I don't know what I expected, but somehow the second go 'round just wasn't as hilarious as I remembered. I think it has a lot to do with knowing the audience a lot better. Knowing that you can't be too friendly unless you want to be the happy recipient of 37+ phone calls a day. Knowing that the cattle round-up is going to take three hours. A minor dental emergency prevented me from participating in the weekend finale, which was when all the crazy stuff went down last year. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've learned my way around this country and its customs, for better or worse, I know what I'm doing (especially when you break out a drinking circle) and that is both reassuring and anti-climactic.

After a recent "shaman" night outside the museum. Papy, second from left, played the shaman's assistant.

We've also been prepping for several other artisan fairs in the coming months -- working on presentation of products, streamlining production schedules, and networking our little artisan arses off. I'm in the midst of the initial stages of starting a community bank in my town, kicking off an HIV-AIDS prevention campaign, and making over a dirt field into a community garden with the kiddies. As always, these projects prove more challenging than they sound. But with my year (hey, did you here? I've been here more than a year) comes patience, a higher tolerance, and hopefully a little wisdom. Just keep on truckin'.

Local dance troupe at a museum event

Speaking of exotic locales, I am writing this en route to the U.S. of A. Yep, This American Life is going back to the motherland for a quick visit, where I'm sure my idea of normal will be spun on its head all over again. Can't wait to see many of you in the flesh in just a few days! Don't worry about recognizing me -- I'll be the girl with the bad hair, wearing a slightly dazed expression, a can of Diet Coke in one hand and a Bud Light in the other.

Editor's note: I wrote this post before my American extravaganza, and I can't help but to leave that last paragraph in, mainly because it proved to be almost exactly true (Mom sprung for me to get my hair cut before the wedding festivities). I'll post a post-America post soon.