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.

Still Standing

Apologies for the lapse in posting. I think I’ve said before that I don’t want to use this blog as a public platform for complaints, negativity and insight into my schizophrenic emotional breakdowns, so I try not to post in the middle of such breakdowns. Which is a long way of saying that it’s been an up-and-down couple months. It’s hard to explain the frustration that comes with watching good idea after good idea fall into the “Little Project That Could But Won’t Because of Lack of Follow Through” category. I gave up my life, or at the very least put it on hold, to come here for a variety of reasons, many of which were selfish. But one driving reason was a desire to do something different, something for the greater good, as cliché as that might sound. And also a belief that I was somehow qualified to do this thing, whatever it is. As one failed project rolls into another, it’s hard to keep motivation high and it becomes harder to justify my presence here. That’s not to say that I am unhappy, but I feel like I’m taking so much more than I’m giving.

That’s the abridged version of what’s been going on with me, at least internally. I’m happy to say that I’m feeling much more positive about my situation. I have a few small pilot projects in the works that seem promising, which I won’t go into detail about for fear of jinxing them. I continue to build and strengthen a few meaningful relationships with people in my town, relationships that, at the end of the day (or two years), will do more to define my time here than any project I could hope to develop.

My buddy, Violeta

Case in point: meet my friend Violeta. She’s 42, has two grown children and one grandson. She sells artisan products at the museum complex. She was one of the first people I met and has never failed to make me feel at home. Despite never having traveled much further than Chiclayo, she has a tacit understanding and empathy for what it must feel like to be so far from home. She talks to me like a real person, asking my opinions on anything from fashion to politics to marketing strategy. She is always giving me little trinkets from her stand; friendship bracelets, rings, perfume samples. She invites me to her house for lunch where she feeds me really good food and then lets me take a nap on her couch in front of the TV. In short, she is amazing – this nurturing and fun hybrid of a girlfriend/aunt/mother. I like to think I’m teaching her things or opening her eyes to a broader understanding of the world, but I’m pretty sure I’m getting the better deal out of this relationship. For someone who spends so much time alone, the power of a kind word or an unexpected hug can not be overstated.

I am also so lucky to have my host family, who puts up with my unpredictable stomach and/or appetite, who leaves me alone to read for hours in my room but somehow intuits when I need company, who invites me everywhere and who has opened my eyes to a whole new dimension of generosity. And what would this whole experience be without my hilariously witty and insightful volunteer pals? They remind me that anything can be dealt with if you just laugh at it and inspire me to “just keep swimming.”

Some of my very favorite people

AND…drum roll…I’ve made it a YEAR! Yep, June 6th marked the one-year anniversary of my arrival in Peru. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been here forever and sometimes it seems like mere weeks. It’s been a whirlwind year. I’ve lived through more once-in-a-lifetime experiences than I though was possible, some of which I’ll be glad never to repeat – namely that 18-hour canoe ride. I wish I had some clever turn of phrase to summarize this year, but so far this experience has proven impossible to summarize or neatly package. Suffice to say it’s been a year of contradictions and a year of learning. I’m looking forward to seeing what the next year brings; hopefully plenty more blog material at the very least. But for now, I’ll just say that I’m proud to have made it this far, still standing.

Happy July 4th weekend!