Adeptly Adapting

Ask any volunteer in Peru the question they hear most often and they will unanimously, resoundingly respond: “Dime, ya has acostumbrado?” This roughly translates into “have you acclimated yet?” My dictionary gives the translation “to accustom,” which I actually didn’t know was a real word. I always translate it in my head as accustumbrate, which definitely isn’t a word. Anyway, there is only one acceptable answer: “Sí, sí. Todo está tranquilo.” Meaning, yes, everything is fine here, I love it, I’m fitting right in. Regardless of whether or not this is true, this is what the questioner expects and wants to hear. They’re not actually concerned with whether or not you’re comfortable – how could you not be? Forget that you’re thousands of miles from home, speaking a different language, living with a family that’s not your own, spending inordinate amounts of time by yourself…no problem, just tell me you love my country. I usually answer without really thinking; I know what they want and I’m happy to oblige. But I was sitting in a drinking circle (shocker!) recently for a friend’s birthday, and looking around I realized with a start that I felt totally comfortable and relaxed. I understood the majority of the conversation, I knew what was expected of me, I was kind of into the gossip because I actually knew who they were talking about…for a fleeting moment I really felt I had accustumbrated. I say fleeting because there are still a million and one things that confound, frustrate and amuse me, but as month four rounds into five I thought I’d reflect on some of the ways I’ve changed and adapted. So here we go, say hello to Peruvian Jess. She’s kind of weird…but always up for a good time.

• I spit seeds, bones or skin onto the floor while sitting at the table. I also flick the backwash out of the glass before passing it to the next person, regardless of where I am. It would be an embarrassing habit in public, but everyone else is doing it too.

• I have perfected the art of Peruvian “participation” in conversations – I adopt a pensive look, throw in the occasional grunt (ehhh, ahhh) of assertion and offer a courtesy laugh every few minutes. This means I don’t actually have to pay attention and can keep my mind clear for daydreaming of Bojangles and Diet Coke.

• I talk about the weather all the time. A sample conversation (literal translation=much funnier):
Me: “Hi, what heat today, no?”
Peruvian: “Yes, the heat is strong.” (fans him/herself)
Me: “Yes, I am hot. I take much water.”
Peruvian: “Is there heat in your country? It’s always cold there, no?”
Me: “Yes, there is heat there. I lived in the South. Much heat there.”
Peruvian: “Oh, what heat today.”
Me: “I know. There is heat.”

• I can lie shamelessly and unabashedly in order to avoid ever saying the word no. My repeat offense stems from the never-ending requests for private English classes. I get at least three new requests a week. My initial strategy was just to talk around the subject and repeatedly mention the schedule for my current classes. But that wasn’t good enough so I’ve adopted a new strategy: vaguely hinting at several new classes beginning sometime next year. According to me, I will be teaching about three hours of English every day. Fat chance. I’m not proud of lying, but it’s just the way things are done here. I’ve found that brutal honesty doesn’t win me any new friends. And I need friends.

• I flick my wrist in an aggressive downward motion to beckon people towards me. I vigorously wag my index finger in front of my face to signify disagreement, a negative response or general disgust. I started using both of these gestures in mocking jest, but now I catch myself using them seriously and with gusto.

• I’m a one-utensil kind of girl – spoon or bust. Even when given the choice of a fork, I’ll choose the spoon. My family used to serve me a fork but after they saw me successfully navigate a spoon a few times, they realized I’m in it to win it and now I too eat my rice and potatoes with a spoon. It was a proud day for me when I sat down to dinner and was handed a spoon without question. No spoon? No problem. Use your hands.

• Arriving late to a meeting, I have no qualms about walking in, greeting everyone and loudly getting myself a chair and/or helping myself to the refreshments. There’s no shame, Peruvians make their arrival known whether they’re ten minutes or an hour-and-a-half late. Which brings me to one of my favorite customs: refresco hour. I love that for every reunión (meeting) – big or small, long or short – we take a break to share some gaseosa and cookies. I’m already scared of our one-year dentist appointment, though I have taken to brushing my teeth like five times a day to combat all the sugary drinks and snacks I consume on a daily basis.

Don't let the red sunglasses fool you, she's more Peruvian than she'd like to admit.

And just so you don’t think I’m super full of myself and my awesome adaptability, here are a few things that I still really suck at:
• Handwashing clothes – every time I pull my t-shirts off the clothesline they’re stiff as a board because I can’t get all the soap out of them. For this reason, I have not washed my sheets in nearly four months. Are you judging me right now? Stop. You don’t know what it’s like.
• Understanding Peruvian jokes – I’ll laugh because everyone else is, but for the life of me I do not understand what is so funny.
• Enjoying Peruvian television – the slapstick humor, the acting, the drama that seeps into real life, the running commentary by my family…it’s just too much for me. So annoying.
• Getting up with the roosters – I hear everyone outside my window getting ready for school or to head to the fields, but it’s hard to motivate myself to get out of bed at 7am when the only thing I have on my schedule is a 3pm meeting. I am very well-rested these days.

What do you think? Will you recognize me in 2011?

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!

Proud Poverty

I suppose it’s stating the obvious when I say that the people in my town are poor. I’ve mentioned before the lack of amenities that we take for granted in the U.S.; things like running water, refrigeration, telephones, etc. And while I have not forgotten the sublime pleasure of a high-pressure hot-water shower, these things become less and less important with the passing days. I’ve reflected often over the past few months that people have an amazing capacity for adaptability. If you had asked me six months ago if I would be comfortable eating goat or washing my clothes in the river, I might have put on a brave face and laughed the question away, but I can guarantee that I had no idea what I would be comfortable with or what exactly I was getting myself into. Most days I still don’t know what I’m doing or how much further I can stretch my flexibility. But I’m finding that I am increasingly comfortable with doing (or eating!) what would have been unfathomable a year ago. The physical hardships and lack of material comforts begin to fall away and I’m left focusing on the personal, the human side of this experience.

I don’t like to write negative feelings here for public consumption since my wildly unpredictable emotions change from day to day and nothing is as bad as it seems the next day. But I’m not gonna lie, sometimes this is really hard and really lonely. I definitely have moments where I’m cursing Peru, Peace Corps, Peruvians and myself all in one breath. But after some reflection and the comforting wonders of either chocolate or a long phone chat with a friend, I feel much better and am able to realize that I’m extremely lucky to have this opportunity to get to know another country and another culture. And what I keep coming back to is the incredible generosity of the people here. I can’t imagine what my host family thinks of me or says about me when I’m not around – I must seem so strange to them! But they’ve never treated me with anything less than kindness, welcoming me as another daughter/sister and including me in the numerous family celebrations. In the past few weeks my two nephews have started calling me tía (aunt) to my face. They’ll never know how much that little gestures goes to making me feel loved. Granted it’s not the same as my real family (miss you guys!), but it’s so nice to have some sense of belonging in this strange and foreign land.

Nearly everyone I meet is immediately welcoming, inviting me to a snack or a meal or a beer, or asking me to stop by their house to meet their family, or marry their son/cousin/nephew. The artisans I work with are always giving me little gifts of jewelry or sweets. They want me to know and love their culture as much as they do. I’m always hearing that I’m lucky to live in this part of Peru because the people are so friendly and warm, and while I can’t speak for the rest of the country, I have to agree with this characterization. It’s humbling to hear their stories of hardships and struggles and watch them shrug it off with a laugh or a shake of the head. Peruvians are tough, especially the women. In a male-dominated society, these women have to put up with husbands who treat them like possessions. Machismo is not a myth here. But the women I know are proud and resilient. Like women everywhere they’re just trying to get through the days, provide a better life for their kids and have a few laughs along the way.

We learned in training that Peru has one of the highest proportions of entrepreneurs among developing countries. I was skeptical of this fact at first, but after a few months and a better understanding of the economic context, I’m totally buying it. Take the women in my family, for example, they’re forever selling something or hosting some sort of event to raise a little cash. My host mom, in addition to her work as an Avon saleslady, sells food to tourists (and workers) outside the museum a few days a week. She and my host sister organized a pollada a few weeks back, which is a lunch where everyone pays a few soles for a plate of food. My sister and some friends held a Halloween dance in our town and charged an entrance fee and sold beer at one sole over cost. My cousin recently organized a soccer tournament, charging an entry fee for each team and selling cebiche to all the spectators. It’s just another small example of the basic human desire to have more, to do better. Turns out people aren’t so different after all.

I was watching a documentary with my family a few nights ago on the appalling poverty in the slums of Lima, the focus of which was child labor. My family called in the two little boys to make them watch this, telling them how lucky they are that they don’t have to work and get to go to school. It was an eye-opening reminder that my family doesn’t really consider themselves poor – they know they’re better off than millions of their countrymen. I can learn a lot from them about how to appreciate what you do have instead of always looking for more or for better.

I know this isn’t my usual tongue-in-cheek commentary on the oddities of my daily life, but I think it’s important to illuminate some broader themes of what it means to be dropped in the middle of a rural Peruvian town.

I hope you all have a wonerful Thanksgiving with friends and family. I´m grateful to have so many wonderful and supportive people in my life. I miss you all immensely.