Stranded Solo

Happy 2011! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season with friends and family. I know I did. I was lucky enough to spend the past two weeks in North and South Carolina with some of my most favorite people in the whole wide world. What a difference a year makes! Last Christmas was an eye-opening and gut-checking experience, one that I am extremely grateful for, but one I was happy to put behind me and head north for a traditional Joye family Christmas.

The Joye kids

A white Christmas! A big climate change from northern Peru!

I won't bore you all with the quirky and wonderful family traditions -- we all have them. Suffice to say, I had an amazing trip and was reminded, again, just how fortunate I am. This whole living alone in the middle of nowhere thing really makes you appreciate "normal" life and all the people that create that sense of home for you.

Christmas Eve dinner, a favorite tradition

The girls at FollyFest, a new tradition

Today I find myself in travel limbo, stuck in Ecuador waiting on my bags to catch up with me and an open bus to take me back to Peru. For as much as I harp on about the joys of travel, sometimes it's a huge pain in the ass. Not only was I extremely sad to say good-bye, again, to everyone and everything I love back in the States, but now I'm stranded in a nowhere city unsure of when I can get back to my other home. Or when the pieces of my real home my mother so lovingly packed will find me. It's kind of the last place in the world I want to be and reminds me of one of the worst parts of solo travel -- the unsettling sense of homelessness.

Perfecting the self-portrait during some solo sightseeing around Guayaquil, Ecuador

Luckily, there's an abundance of international hotel chains near the airport that accept Visa. A comfy bed, unlimited wifi and a well-stocked mini bar help ease the pain a bit. What else is a girl to do?

**Update** My bags arrived late last night, after much waiting, eyelash batting, and negotiating to get back into international baggage claim to find my own bag. The Goldfish and homemade banana bread are only slightly worse for the wear, as am I. The interminable journey continues. Huaca Rajada, here I come.

Time Travel

“Time keeps on slipping into the future” – Steely Dan

Time has a funny quality here. There are days that seem endless and months that pass in mere minutes. I at once can’t believe I’ve lived in Peru for all of 2010 and also feel like I’ve been here much, much longer. There’s a sense of sameness in small towns like Huaca Rajada, a feeling that time is somewhat irrelevant. People come and go, easing in and out of our lives as they seek work in Chiclayo, Lima, or further afield, but they’re always welcomed back as if no time has passed at all. Conversations veer to the familiar – the weather, family members, the latest town gossip. One doesn’t have to be here every day to understand the cycles of the seasons or the small family dramas that play out similarly in households around the world.

We tell time by the cars leaving for Chiclayo. It’s time for lunch with the “Rápido” (even after 16 months, I have no idea why this particular car is so named, they all seem equally slow to me) lumbers down the dirt road, Chiclayo-bound. I know it’s Saturday because Jackey (my other host sister) and her son come spend the day with us. Otherwise there is little difference between a Monday and a Thursday, or a Tuesday and a Sunday; the days blend together in a lulling rhythm broken only by the occasional campo baile.

When I return to site after a week or two of travel, I’m always a little worried that my artisans or family will have had some important meeting or participated in some big event without me. But every time I come back, they greet me as if I’ve always been here. As if my absence was a fleeting second. Sure, there’s a little friendly guilt-tripping – “Jessica, it’s been years,” they say. But I get this snarky retort whether I’ve been gone two days or two weeks. No, they respond, nothing new is going on here, nothing new to report. “Aqui estamos,” they reply day after day.

In many ways this blasé attitude toward the future is incredibly frustrating. It’s hard to motivate people to work when they are convinced that this is their lot in life and little they do will ever change their situation. Granted, there are a few incredibly motivated people in my town, but two or three people, mighty as they are, can’t carry an entire population forward. So from a development standpoint, time works against me.

But on a personal level, it’s been comforting to realize that I’ve woven myself into the fabric of this town, of it’s unique pace and personality. I don’t know when it happened, but one day I suddenly knew the combi schedule, I could predict what was for lunch based on the weather. It’s odd to find yourself at home in a place that once seemed so remote and alien. Time has a way of making everything eventually familiar.

Sometimes I wonder if they’ll remember me when I come back to visit in five, ten, or twenty years. I can’t answer for sure, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll find the same women gossiping in the shade of the algarroba tree, and they’ll welcome me back into their folds as if no time has passed at all. As if I’ve always been here.

I hope you are all enjoying a wonderful holiday season, wherever you are!

Turkey Trotting

I spent my second, and last, Thanksgiving in Peru on a fantastic journey to the southern highlands of Arequipa. Kim and I ventured down to the Texas of Peru (so called because of their fierce independence and autonomy) for a week filled with beautiful scenery, incredible food, and great company. Thanks so much to John, Kristen, Russ and Jean for their wonderful hospitality!

Plaza de Armas, Arequipa.

We arrived to the white city of Arequipa late in the afternoon. Under fellow volunteer John’s expert tutelage, we still managed to get in about three meals that day, plus several sweet treats. Some ingenious arequipeña created a most delectable desert – queso helado (cheese ice cream). It’s incredibly buttery, velvety, savory and icily cold. I made it a mission to try as much of this ridiculously good dessert as possible. Warning: this entry might include a lot of food talk. We basically ate our way through Arequipa. It was our duty as red-blooded American girls, acknowledging (and exceeding) the time-honored tradition of stuffing yourself silly over Thanksgiving. Anyway, John showed us around the city for two days. Highlights include: go-kart racing at a place that makes Frankie’s Fun Park look downright classy, visiting a hauntingly beautiful convent in the heart of the city, drinking a frog milkshake at the market (yes, a live frog was killed, skinned, sautéed and blended before our very eyes. I have a video if you don’t believe me), feasting on crepes, tacos, stuffed peppers, and generally enjoying what I now consider the prettiest city in Peru.

Frog juice = good for stress.

Santa Catolina convent, Arequipa.

Getting in touch with my artistic side.

Beautiful red walls of the convent.

We headed for Chivay on Thursday to prepare our Thanksgiving feast. Chivay is a district capital and the base for many of the Colca Canyon (deepest canyon in the world) tours. Two volunteers from my training group live in Chivay – the indefatigable Russ and Jean. They graciously opened their house and kitchen to our hungry group and we prepared what can only be described as a feast. We spent hours in the kitchen preparing every traditional dish we could think of, laughing the day away in our borrowed chef’s coats. I’d forgotten how much I’d missed cooking and the fraternal atmosphere of a bustling kitchen. My contribution: heart-cloyingly buttery mashed potatoes and slightly-burnt-but-still-delicious homemade mac ‘n cheese. We had a lovely meal, complete with the vocal stylings of Russ and Jean. I literally had to wheel myself away from the table. So good.

A happy kitchen. (Jess, John, Kim, Russ)

The feast before the starved volunteers descend.

Now that’s a good looking plate.

Instead of hitting the mall on Black Friday, Jean, Kim, Kristen, and I opted to burn some of our Thanksgiving calories on a hike ’n bike through the Colca Canyon. Jean led us to some nearby towns, stunning canyon views, and one seriously scary bridge crossing. We then rewarded ourselves after our very strenuous four-hour excursion with soak in the local thermal baths. Obviously I’d earned this after my one attempt at exercise during the entire vacation. Vacation, people, vacation. You are supposed to stuff yourself silly and wile away the days in public baths. Have you learned nothing from my previous blogs?

The fearless travelers overlooking the Canyon.

Finally we headed for Kristen’s site, Cabanconde, a supremely beautiful town on the edge of the canyon entrance. Cabanaconde is only about 3,000 people but they have no less than three bars and five hostels, including a really swanky hotel. Needless to say, lots of tourists come through. I can’t even begin to explain how different all the canyon volunteers’ sites are from mine. I’m more than a little jealous. We only had about 12 hours in Cabanaconde but we did manage to spot the famous Colca Condor (honestly, it looks just like a regular bird) and trek out to the edge of the canyon for more great views.

Wow. A bird.

It was a whirlwind trip but well worth all the traveling. Obviously, I will always cherish childhood memories of Thanksgivings with family, but this year will go down as one of my favorites, and certainly one of the most memorable. There was something really beautiful about mashing everyone’s family traditions in a completely foreign setting. What resulted was echoingly familiar but decidedly unique. Far from home, in a land rich with their own cultural traditions, we recreated a notion of our collective home.

Trading Traditions

It’s the hap-happiest time of the year! Change that to hottest time of the year and you’d hit on the nose for Peru. Seriously, the past week or so, they’ve really cranked up the heat and welcomed summer full-force. My S/. 20 mini-fan isn’t really cutting it anymore. I might have to upgrade to industrial strength if the Peruvian’s warnings are true. Thought I’m naturally disinclined to believe most of what they say about weather, the past few weeks are leading me to think they might be telling the truth when they say that the summer heat reaches unbearable heights. I’m also beginning to understand the beauty and necessity of the post-lunch siesta.

I spent my first Peruvian Thanksgiving (even though there’s no such thing) at a small beach town a couple hours away from site with a few PC friends. It wasn’t the same as being at home but it was lovely in its own right. We played my favorite game of taking turns to say what we’re thankful for, and it seems we can all agree that having a support system of fellow volunteer friends is crucial and special indeed. We then added a Festivus twist and opened the table for the Airing of Grievances. Instead of pointing the finger at each other, we turned our collective critical eye to Peru and Peruvians. It was hilarious and therapeutic. We’re saving the Feats of Strength for New Year’s.

We somehow ended up with a vegetarian meal after we realized that between all the appetizers (guacamole, bruschetta, caprese salad and cheese plate), the world’s largest salad, stuffing (Stovetop – from the States!), about 9 kilos of potatoes (mashed and sweet) and stomachs already full of beer, that we didn’t need a whole bird. It was delicious and communal and we all had to roll ourselves away from the table…so a success! Highlights included watching my friends peel 9 kilos of potatoes with a serrated butter knife (I supervised), having to “borrow” the hostel owner’s stove, eating raw vegetables, and a pre-dinner walk on the beach.

The potato peelers.

Also a highlight: trying to explain Thanksgiving to my host family. I started out by just telling them it was a day that we gave thanks for all the people we loved, to which they replied, “oh, yeah, we have that too – the día de amor in February.” I explained that no, the día de gracias was different and that we have Valentine’s Day too. This devolved into a holiday quiz, each family member taking turns yelling dates and holiday names at me and asking if those holidays are celebrated in the States. Trying to get back on subject, I tried to act out a simplified version of the Pilgrims and Indians, only to realize that I actually wasn’t clear on the origins of Thanksgiving, let alone how to translate it into Spanish. This turned into a rudimentary history lesson on Christopher Columbus, which got even more confusing when I tried to explain that he actually didn’t discover North America and was nowhere near Plymouth Rock. Eventually I just left it at sharing a special meal with friends or family. Once I told them I was going to cook, they forgot everything else and laughed at what I’m sure they imagined to be a disaster. I’m keeping my mad culinary skills a secret for now…I’m a little intimidated by the whole open-flame cooking thing.

So here we are in December and besides feeling nothing like Christmas (see paragraph one), it looks nothing like Christmas either. No wreaths or icicle lights here in the campo. What have come out in full force, though, are panetones, which are basically a Peruvian version of fruitcake, but from what I can tell so far, decidedly more popular than fruitcake. They’re also shaped like giant muffins instead of rock-hard bundts. My friend Katie works at a bakery in her site so I’ve already been the lucky recipient of a few mini-panetones. Not really my favorite things, but hey, give me a few more and I’m sure they’ll grow on me.

A few days ago one of my artisans put up a Christmas tree at the artisan complex. Obviously we don’t really live in the right climate for evergreens, but this did not damper the famed Peruvian resourcefulness. We wrapped some tinsel around the branches, wrapped up a few empty coffee cans in paper and bam, our own Charlie Brown Christmas tree here in Huaca Rajada. My mom sent some U.S. decorations down (so far only one box has made it, but we’re hopeful the rest will arrive before Dec 25), so I taunted everyone with promises of decorations from the United States. Unfortunately I made the mistake of emptying out the package all at once, so in typical Peruvian fashion the few people that were there took all of the stockings and decorated one for every family member. I managed to rescue a few to ensure at least a few families were represented. But all in all, they were a huge hit. Thanks, mom!

Decorating our stockings.

I’m sad not to be with my family and friends over the holidays, (I’m especially bummed to miss my favorite December event – the office holiday party) but there’s something really cool about learning new traditions firsthand. I again count myself extremely lucky to be living in a country with such generous and open people. I know that whatever the celebrations include I will be welcomed with open arms.

In case I’m not able to post another blog before the New Year, I want to wish all you readers (all five of you) a very happy holiday season. I miss you all mucho, mucho, mucho. I hope 2010 sees you planning a trip to Peru!