Pisco, Peru

This is my very last blog entry from Peru (for this trip at least).  My flight leaves today (well technically tomorrow) at 12:20am.  I know it's been a while since I've written, but between the big trip with mom and Randy and now, not too much eventful went down.

Before our embarkment to the four great corners of the world, my fellow classmates and I were advised as to how much we would learn about ourself on this trip.  However, while amidst the deep intensity of my work, I often would look at the situation and ask myself 'what have I exactly learned about myself?' and the answer never would come.  Possibly because I was forcing it.  But it became discouraging to a point.  If you haven't read my earlier blogs, life in Pisco became pretty difficult.  It's a very isolated setting for someone in my categorical standings (in Peru that would equate to a.young b.foriegn c.adventurous d.humanitarian worker) as there are no expats (or rather expatriates for those of you who don't know the meaning and are folks just like myself but have adopted that country's residency and often abandoned their own and not that I would particularly want to chill with that crowd, I mean, I can do that in my own country right?  Doesn't that pollute the experience so much?) nor are there many locals of my age as Pisco is quite so desolate that almost all of them have left for Lima (4 hours away) or Ica (1 hour away) to study and find jobs.  Additionally, the stares, comments and overall rudeness was becoming unbarable as well as the matter of saftey.  Since Pisco is a very unstable area, I was the opposite of a vampiring locking myself in my room after dark hit which was about 7pm.  For the lack of money and social opportunities, I was unable to travel back and forth to Lima as often as I had hoped, and really only made the trip one time besides for the vacation I took with mom and Randy.  But my last weeks in Pisco were rejuvinating.  I unintentionally spent them learning about myself when one day, it just hit me...

Peru has taught me to love!

I learned to love people and things for what they are at that moment without passing any judgement.  The women with whom I surrounded myself my last couple of weeks showed me a kind of love that I will never forget.  These were often women of whom I had no impact on, either.  They were neither my co-workers nor clients, but just women I came across daily and learned to laugh and share good moments.  When I look back on all my time spent with the women in Pisco, I realized that not at one moment did I really ever feel as if I didn't belong with them.  And not because they promised to marry me to their son and give me half their land and a herd of cattle.  And not because they asked me to stay repeatedly and cried as they said goodbye.  But because I felt loved by them and they had no reason to show me that love.  To those who I did not serve, they showed just as much love as those that I did serve.  It's hard to express the spirit of these women.  They are living life and loving life.  No matter what it hands them.  Therefore, they're not judging what to love and what not to love.  They just love.

****

And of course I grew professionaly so much!  The fact that I was able to practice both macro and clinical social work and at a balanced level was incredible.  I'd never worked with such a young organization (7 months old when I started) nor had I the opportunity to impact and influence an organization's future as much.  Working with OXFAM was amazing.  It was frustrating at times because it is such an enormous INGO that I got lost in the shuffle a lot.  But it makes sense now.  I'm glad they weren't holding my hand.  And the fact that I got to work very closely and intimately with the South American and Peruvian Director of OXFAM (for those that don't know, well, he's pertty much the biggest dog this side of Rio Grande) was an absolute honor and priviledge.

****

There's not much more for me to say as I don't think I can encapsulate 4 months of emotion of this most incredible journey into one single blog entry.  I have fallen in love with this country and will miss it dearly.  I know I will return some day, maybe to live and work.  There are a lot of injustices here for which I have a strong passion to advocate. 

Until my next return to Peru, I'm uncertain what my future will hold.  What I do know is that as long as I continue to keep loving the way the Peruvian women taught me, I think I will make it just fine in this world.  I came up with a saying a few days ago that says "I will always be a nomad, but walking with God, I will always be home".  Webster dictionary says that "nomadism does not imply aimless wandering, but suggests an organized rotation of settlements to ensure maximum use of available natural resources".  Having moved around so much in my life, my for purposeful reasons, I believe that definition sums me up very well.  So throughout it all, I've learned that I am a loving nomadic hobo and I'm alright with that! 

Thank you for following my amazing journey.  I send you all much love and peace :)

-SAM-

Pisco, Peru

**MAKE SURE YOU START IN ORDER AND READ THE 'RAW FISH MUSEUM' FIRST, THE THE TWO PARTS OF THE 'LLAMA STAMPEDE' AND GO FROM THERE.  THIS ENTRY IS THE LAST PART OF THE TRIP**

After our 1 hour flight from Cuzco on Sunday we immediately boarded at bus to Pisco.  Yes this was the bus system that I unfortunately know all to well.  The four hour, hot, sticky, bus ride ended as we arrived in my current home town of Pisco.  Pisco lies just on the coast of Peru 4 hours directly south of Lima.  We checked mom and Randy into their hotel, took them by my new crib (aka room) and went to eat at a local restaraunt (one of the only 3 or so that you won't get amoebas from). 

Monday morning we woke up bright and early and headed for the same bus system that dropped us off not just 12 hours earlier to go 3 hours south to Nazca where you get to see the world famous Nazca lines.  In case you don't know, the Nazca lines are centuries old and are similar to field crops (well not really but it's the only similation I find for Americans).  In other words, they're giant lines drawn in the ground in varying indentifiable shapes.  In order to see the lines, you have to board a small rickety 6 person plane.  After our guide picked us up from the bus stop, we swung by a hotel to pick up our other plane mates which consisted of two American women.  I think mom and Randy were relieved to have English conversations.  Our soccer mom and Cher look-a-like were great company as we boarded the plane that was significantly smaller than any Hummer I've ever seen.  Being the odd woman out, I got to sit front row with the captain!  The ride was a little scary, as you can feel every single move!  And to look at the lines he literally tilted the plane at almost a 90 degree angle to the left or right.  Looking at the lines took your mind off the movement, though, as it was so amazing to try to guess how the ancient Nazca culture created these figures.  They're shapes such as a monkey, spider, tree, dog, astronaut, hummingbird, and much more.  From the plane, you can't get quite an idea of how big the lines really are because they're located in the middle of a huge dessert with nothing to copare the size.  Surviving the plan ride and landing (which was actually smoother than a jet landing) we were in awe!

Tuesday we were up just as early as our tour guide picked us up to go to the Islas Ballestas (IB) which are considered Peru's Galapagos Islands.  The IB are located about a 10 minute taxi ride just south of Pisco off of a beach town called Chaco.  You board a boat, wearing a bright orange life vest with about 30 other passengers.  Being so early in the morning, the breeze is actually quite chilly and the sun hadn't broke the clouds yet.  On your way to the islands, you stop to see the Candelabra, which is a giant figure of drawn in the sand (not the ground like the Nazca lines) off one of the Paracas peninsula.  Nobody knowns how the figure got there (similar to the Nazca lines) or how old it is, but they said it has deteriorated about half of it's depth in the sand and is slowly erroding.  From there you drive about 10 more minutes off the coast.  You know you've arrived to the IB when you get a big strong whiff of 'guano' AKA bird shit.  Most of the rocks on the islands are covered in a thick white coating which is actually the guano which is collected a couple times each year and sold for various uses.  Apparently it's a very pricey commodity and they even have two ment that live on the island full time just to watch the guano.  Do to the fragile state of the animals that live on the islands, and the rough seas surrounding the area, it's not permited to leave the boat and/or step foot on the islands.  The islands are home to thousands of sea lions and we actually got to see their 2 month old babies hanging around as well.  There are also hundreds of thousands of pelicans, penguins, cormorants, boobies and other types of sea birds.  For the nature lover, it is quite a site (sound and smell too)!

From the IB, we headed to the Paracas National Reserve.  This is where dessert meets sea.  The area is a vast stretch of sand dune laiden dessert which is pretty much inhabitable save for the handful of fisherman that live and work in the area.  The only way to get their is with your only car or with an approved, commissioned taxi.  You could walk, but you'd end up like Chevy Chase in Vacation (of course we thought of doing a recreation picture but we thought that would really freak out our personal taxi driver).  We ate lunch at a little sea side restaurant where mom and Randy ordered Ceviche and I order Chicharron de Pescado (the best way I can describe Chicharron is it's little peices of deep fried anything, fish, chicken, pork, but in this case, I had fish).  It was some of the best fish I've ever had, and certainly the freshest! 

The next day we puttered around Pisco until about noon when we headed back to Lima to drop mom and Randy off at the airport.  It was a fun and very adventurous trip (I would not use vacation as that denotes relaxing) but it was very exhausting!

Pisco, Peru

Saturday had come.  We were up at the crack of dawn to leave for the three hour train ride to Machu Picchu (hence forth known as MP).  There are two ways to arrive to MP.  You can take the Inca Trail which takes 4 days hiking, costs about $500/person and requires a one year in advance reservation...or you can much more simply take the train.  MP was discovered by an American Professor from Yale named Hairam Bingam in the very early 1900's.  When he discovered it, the only to way to arrive was by foot (remember, the 4 day trek?).  However, once National Geographic gave the arqueological wonder enough attention, they build a first class train that ran right up to the base of the mountain where MP is located.  They since have added two more affordable train lines that can cost anywhere from $20-$50 one way (the Hairam Bingam can cost $500).  Needless to say, this working class American crew took the most affordable train.  Fortunately, mom and I got the good side of the train where we could see beautiful lush greenery (a far cry from the sand dunes in which I have been habitating the past 3 months).  Everything was going great until mom couldn't find the bathroom in our car and went into the other car to go and then found out she couldn't get back in ours.  I got worried maybe she had bumped her head while on the pott when we hit a rough spot or something and that she was laying on the ground of the train bathroom with her pants around her ankles, unconscious.  But alas, I saw her motion at me that she was stuck until the train came to a stop which was about 30 minutes later.  Soon after mom's reappearance, the scenery changed drastically as you knew immediately you were now in the jungle.  Although it's not the deep jungle, MP is located on the outskirts of Peru's vast jungle region which covers more land than any other climate in the country.  Cuzco is mainly covered with grass and shrubs but there is clearly a lack of trees.  Contrarily, MP, being located in the jungle is surrounded by various trees, flowers and other beautiful types of flora.  It is unlike any setting I have ever seen before.  After getting off the train you walk through the immense tourist market of Aguas Calientes, the town where MP is located, for about 5 minutes until you reach the one and only bus stop that ascends the mountain where MP is.  The bus ride takes about 30 minutes and you often fear for your life as the top heavy tour bus hugs the sides of the road as if it's telling the driver 'I really don't want to fall down the cliff today Mister!'.  But your attention is quickly diverted as the ruins come into sight within about 20 mintues.  It truly is spectacular and I think I get a little misty eyed everytime I try to recount the moment I stepped foot on MP.  I had studied this wonder for 6 long years.  I had longed to be amongst it's magestic energy, and there I finally was!  Yes, there I was, amongst 1,000 other loud, obnoxious tourist.  I often went ahead of mom and Randy and kept trying to find a little nook or cranny where I could be alone and peaceful.  That would usually last about 3 minutes until my nook or cranny was stolen by some stupid stoic German or Canadian (no offense to your Germans or Canadians reading this).  The pictures do not even give it justice.  How could anyone say that aliens created this God given gem?  Yes, they say it.  And it's offsensive!  There's not much more I can say about MP.  It truly was a spiritual experience.  To think that people created this place which appears to be so inhabitable.  **History lesson:  the Incas abandoned MP about 30 years before the Spanish got there for unknown reasons and the Spanish (thank the Lord) never found the magical city.**  Again, there's not much more I can say about MP and all it's splendor.  What I can say is that it is worth every penny you can scrape up just to be able to step foot onto something so sacred and so serene.

Next...we headed to Pisco, my 'hood!

Pisco, Peru

We got up early on Thursday to make our flight for Cuzco.  We arrived in Cuzco around 8:45am and were supposed to go directly to start the Sacred Valley tour, until we were told by the man meeting us at the airport that since we got in late (we actually got in early) that we didn't have time to make the tour and that we would do the Sacred Valley tour the next day and today would be the City Tour which didn't begin until 2pm.  We were taken to our hotel by a less then friendly or enthusiastic crew of two suits and a taxi (mini van) driver.  Everyone warned us to take it easy the first day because of the altitude.  They suggested we eat very little and stay away from heavy foods such as red meat.  If you feel uneasy, you're supposed to chew on coco leaves or drink coco tea.  After arriving to our hotel at about 10am we decided to go horseback riding up in the hills to fill in time before we had to do the City tour at 2pm.  The trail was amazingly breathtaking!  You could see absolutely the entire city of Cuzco on the horses.  We also spotted several llamas/alpacas on our way back and mom was almost trampled by a stampede of the Camel Cousins as we were leaving the stables.  (So I'm being a little dramatic, but about 20 of them did pass by her quite rapidly!)  **History lesson:  horses are not native to Peru and were brought over by the Spanish.  Lllamas and alpacas are not for riding but rather for carrying.  The horses that we road on are not typical for the area and mostly used for tourist reasons.  I actually see more horses where I work in the dessert used for farming purposes.**  The City Tour consisted of seeing the four most important ruins within a few miles of Cuzco (aka no matter where you were on this tour you were able to see Cuzco).  We all agreed the tour guide (who spoke equally in English and Spanish, but my mother will tell you differently) gave way more information than necessary and we found him to be quite boring at times.  Unfortunately for me, I studied Peruvian history for an entire year in undergrad and knew almost everything he had told us.  But is was interesting to put facts with real-life visuals!  We arrived late back to the center of Cuzco where we were pretty much tossed out on the side of the road by our tour bus (tuck and roll folks) and left to be eaten by the wild llamas and alpacas.  We griped but decided we would just take a taxi...until...it started to hail...giant humongus ice cubes!  Are you serious?  HAIL?  We quickly ran to a store corner where we shared the awning with a one legged, toothless bum, a few other tourists and some young Cuzco residents.  The hail stopped after about 20 minutes and we got back to the hotel, sopping wet and freezing (keep in mind, I've been living in a dessert for the past 3 months and haven't seen rain for just as long).

The next day was the Sacred Valley tour.  **History lesson:  the Incas are the native peoples of Peru and only have a rein of about 75 years.  They were very successful in everything they adapted to.  They were the ones to start domesticating the potatoe and were said to grow corn with kernels as big as a silver dollar.  The Incas spoke Quechua (the other most common native language to Peru is Aymara).  Peruvians didn't learn to speak Spanish until (obviously) the Spanish came.  With them, they also brought genocide/culturalcide and pretty much wiped out the Incas as we know it so they could take their natural resources.  Cuzco used to the be the capital or center of Peru as the country was divided into four parts and Cuzco was at the center of those for parts.  The Sacred Valley is called so because of it's religious significance to the Incas.  It is located about 15 miles outside of Cuzco.**  Here we went to the Pisac Ruins and then to Ollantaytambo.  We also got a lovely gift from God of getting to see a double rainbow with the bottom one just a bright a crayola box.  The entire tour bus was completely enchanted.  That was on top of the mountain that we followed to go the the native people's village (I refuse to say Indians) called Chincheros.  Here you got to the see the process of weaving and how they wash and die the llama/alpaca/vicuna wool with 100% natural ingrediants.  Yes, I was in organic heaven.  They used a plant root to wash the wool and various plants to die it.  Sometimes adding a mineral (like salt) to change the colors.  Here, you could shop at their market and be assured you were buying the real thing and not something mass produced in a factory (which is what most of it is...don't be fooled folks).  Unfortunately, we arrived at dusk and were unable to do most shopping as the small market didn't use electric light.  Both ruins were amazing and extremely beautiful but I knew they couldn't compare to what were were going to see the next day at Machu Picchu.

Continued...

Pisco, Peru

I left for Lima early Monday morning to pick up my mom and Randy from the airport.  Their flight didn't come in until 11pm but I decided to get there early so that I could basque in the cool air conditioned hotel room my mom had paid for me watching TV (which I hadn't done since I've been in Peru) and eating Papa John's pizza (extra cheese and pineapple is my fave) and also so I could stop by my faveorite natural store to pick up my organic hair conditioner.  Upon entering Lima, I instantly felt like a new woman!  I have been slightly loathing Peru (most specifically Pisco) for quite some time as I have been having quite rough time (see earlier blogs).  However, Lima's busy streets and Americanization refreshed me plenty.  Oh what paved roads will do for a woman.

After picking up mom and Randy we immediately went back to the hotel and after having a round of Pisco Sours (national cocktail of Peru), headed straight for our rooms.  The next day did not consist of any pizza eating, lounging in hotel rooms or watching tv.  Quite the contraire my friend.  We headed out to walk around Miraflores where we took the 'Mirabus' to do a tour around Miraflores.  We also stopped by my old stomping ground at la Casa Roja (where I stayed my first two weeks in Peru).  Next came Sonia's Cevicheria.  For those of you that don't know, Ceviche is the national dish or Peru that consists of raw fish (of various kinds) that is cooked in the acidic lime juices along with various other spices.  It is accompanied by boiled sweet potatoes, giant corn, and onion generally.  Although I say 'raw' it really isn't raw.  As I stated, the acid from the lime juice actually cooks the fish but the textures remains as though it is still raw.  The entire dish is served chilled.  We spotted Sonia's after watching Anthony Bourdain's special on Peru.  He was taken there by a local Lima chef and was assured that it was the best Chevicheria in town.  Sonia's is not well advertised.  It's very small and quaint and tucked away in the windy streets of Chorrillos, the southern most town of Lima.  After doing some investigating online, I found the address and we were off.  We were the only tourists in the restaurant as all the rest of the diners consisted of locals.  It really was quite good, and some of the best ceviche I've ever had!  After that we headed downtown to see the Plaza de Armas, Cathedral, Catacombs, etc.  The hotel was our next stop as we refreshed ourselves, preparing for La Brisas de Titicaca which is a folklore dance show I went to about 3 weeks ago.  Supposedly it's the best of it's kind in Peru.  Although mom and Randy enjoyed it, the intermittent free dancing was a little boring, especially since mom and Randy aren't quite too keene on the Cumbia and Huayno (local dances).  Hence, we left early, missing about the last 45 minutes of the show.

The next day was a little more eventful.  We started out by going to the Anthropological museum in Pueblo Libre which is a little to the north of where we were staying.  It was an ok museum but nothing spectacular.  From there we proceeded to the Gold Museum in Surco which is in the south of the city.  Oh whoops, I forgot one detail...as we were signing it at the Anthropology museum, I happened to stumble across a business card display where an old car museum was advertised.  I mistakenly showed the card to Randy and we were doomed to spend the afternoon there.  Since the car museum was located in La Molina (about 10 minutes to the east of Surco where the Gold Museum is) it was only logical to head there next.  I must say that it was quite impressive.  And it was nice to see Randy look like a child in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.  It turns out the museum has only been open to the public for 7 years and is considered one of the best privately owned car collections in the world.  Hmm...who'da thunk?

From La Molina we passed through Surco again heading southwest to eat at Rustica in Barranco.  Rustica is an all you can eat buffet for about S/20 ($6.50) with typical Peruvian food and a great atmosphere.  Barranco is one of my most faveorite areas in Lima because it's the bohemian area.  You can tell instantly when you've driven into Barranco as not only does the architecture change, but so does the people.  There you see people mixing of all races, classes and religions.  It's more laid back and accepting.  It sits just on the ledge of the ocean and at night you can get a spectacular view of the sunset. 

From Barranco we headed back to the Hotel a little north but still following the coastline till we got to Miraflores.  All I have to say is that I'm glad I know Lima.  The taxi system is informal in Lima and you hail them right off the street.  Since they don't run on a meter system, you negotiate the price before you get in.  I often had some people trying to charge me triple what it should cost!  Once again, thanks to my bilingualness (is that a word) and my knowledge of how to get around Lima, I believe we easily saved $30!

The next leg of the trip...Cuzco!

Pisco, Peru

Have you ever tried to cook ramen noodles in a Tupperware storage bowl smaller than what fits a sandwich using the luke warm water (that's the hottest it will get and I'm lucky if it isn't freezing cold) from your shower head (you would logically just use your sink except your sink only has one knob and that knob is for cold water) with a plastic fork that you washed off that you had previously thrown away but you fished out of the garbage can?  Well guess what everybody...I HAVE!  And it blows, totally blows.  And you want to know why I had to do this?  Because when I got home from working at 2:30pm and went into the kitchen to eat lunch (keep in mind I am simply renting a room from a family and I have to ‘share' the kitchen but really am only permitted to use it for ‘light' cooking.  Where the hell am I supposed to eat folks?) But my landlady was in there cooking up a storm using all six burners and just about every pot and pan she had which leaves Sam nowhere to cook.  Thankfully I had gone to the store the night before and gotten bread and cheese and therefore had a white bread and cheese sandwich for lunch.  Needless to say around 6:30pm my tummy started to rumble and I tossed aside my hesitation of not wanting to disturb the family and headed downstairs to make some pasta or eggs.  When much to my surprise there was the man of the house sitting at the kitchen table with a young couple and an infant whom I had never met before.  I felt uncomfortable cooking in there as I felt intrusive, but decided to proceed thinking to myself ‘I pay to do ‘light cooking' here so damn't I'm going to get my monies worth' when alas there was no clean pot to be found for boiling nor was there a clean pan for frying.  I started to feel more uneasy as I was trying to carry on a superficial, arbitrary conversation with my landlord while awkwardly looking for cooking space/utensils and coming up empty handed.  Additionally, I began to assess the situation and realized that I didn't have the authority to take a ceramic bowl and silverware up to my room to eat nor did I feel comfortable sitting at a table amongst complete strangers who I wasn't introduced to on an evening when I was feeling slightly solitary.  So I retreated from my previous idea of cooking and decided to eat yet another white bread and cheese sandwich to take up to my four walled room where I wouldn't be in the way or disturb anyone.  Once my devious plan was realized by my landlord he asked why I had decided not to cook and I simply replied ‘oh it just dawned on me how much work I have to catch up on in my room and really don't have time to get into any cooking right now', and he completely bought it.  Two cheese sandwiches in one day will not knock out hunger.  So I devised a plan.  I happened to have a packet of ramen noodles (I don't know why) stashed in my room and I decided to see how resourceful I could be (which turns out not very much at all).  ‘Well why don't you just go out to eat, Sam, geez?!?' you ask.  My reply: I have been warned so frequently of the dangers lurking in Pisco and how many people pray on gringas especially in the dark cold hours of the night.  Therefore, I have stuck to my routine of refusing to leave after 7pm when the sun goes down.  You see, I have left my room a few times and it was confirmed that situations do become far more precarious.  I live in a secluded neighborhood.  It's not gated in or anything but it's set aside from the road in order to lend to the exclusivity.  Although it's one of Pisco's nicer communities, the lack of hussle and bussle creates a sketchy environment and basically doesn't make the area any safer then the rest of Pisco.  Therefore, I'm stuck here in my room with half a bottle of water and nothing in the form of food except for wet ramen noodles that failed to cook in the luke warm shower water.  Wait a second...I do have a lighter...a coat hanger...and a yappy Pekinese puppy that lives next door.  Schishkabobs anyone??

*Don't worry, recaps of the previous weeks adventures will be added soon...just had to get that out of my system!

Pisco, Peru

I'm sure some of you will look at the time that I posted this blog (around 2am my time aka 3am States time...no, Peru doesn't observe daylight savings time so although I was in the same time zone as you all when I got here, alas, I no longer am) and think 'what could she be doing up this early?'  Good question I must say.  You see, it all began a fateful six weeks ago...

I'm not sure what caused it but all I know is that I've been bad in the stomach area for around six weeks.  This past week, I stopped going to my step aerobics class after faithfully attending every day for six weeks because it got so that I couldn't get through a simple 'V' step or 'mambo' without having to run to the potty.  No worries though, I think I compensated for missing out on the gym as I'm quite certain that I've burned just as many calories running to and from the bathroom for the past while.  Additionally, I'm convinced that the Peruvian toilet paper company should endow me with a lifetime supply of 2-ply bathroom tissue (with aloe!) as they are certain to be much much much richer of a company since I came to town!  After taking Cipro (for those of you non-travelers it's just about the strongest thing they prescribe to oversees travelers for cases just such as mine) religiously, as prescribed, and having no relief, I broke down and did what I vowed never to do.  I mean you all won't believe it.  I rarely do this is the States even, I've just had such bad experieces...but...yes folks...I...went...to...the...DOCTOR (I had a bad experience once where a female doctor gave me an unpermissioned breast exam when I came in for WRIST PAIN and I vowed to never return to any such horrible beast).  But everything I hate about the medical professionals in the States was negated while visiting the 'Policlinico Peruano Americano'.  First of all, I left home in such a haste and full of anxiety (of course) in early January that I arrived in this country without my medical card.  I've asked around, and even went to a clinic attempting to be seen here in Pisco without my insurance card and they tell me they won't accept a copy, no not a copy, they need the real McCoy man!  So that was my main reason for putting off going because I didn't know what my other option was (I didn't want to fork up the money as well as that would have entailed me going to the public clinic here in Pisco which is just not going to happen, I'm not going to even try to argue my point there), until one of my co-workers informed me of this free clinic.  Wait, yep, I had the same reaction 'free' and 'clinic' together don't sound to hott!  I my mind free health care (well free health care in the States at least) usually denotes grumpy nurses, overworked doctors (if you can find one) and far more than unacceptable facilities.  However, I walked in hesitantly to a pleasant, small, clean, non overcrowded facility tucked away just off the highway right down the street in the neighborhood where my sweet co-worker lives.  They took my height and weight (the only complaint I have is that they repeated my weight to me after I covered my eyes with my hands and asked them not to repeat it outloud then he repeated it laughing...once more, jabs at the fat american, nice!), basic contact information and set me outside the doctors office to wait my turn.  I was ready though.  I was prepared for the marathon wait (yes, I've sometimes waited up to 2 hours just to walk through the doors then another couple of hours sitting on the damn table, this really 'grinds my gears').  I had a book and two friendly co-workers to keep me occupied.  So I settled in on the uncomfortable and somewhat dusty couch/chair/bench and commensed the what was to be a lengthy conversation with my co-workers when, like a ray of angel dust opening the clouds, out came the doctor bidding farewell to his previous patient and in a I went, after only waiting 3 minutes!  3 MINUTES??  In a doctors office?  It's true my friends.  As professional as possible, he sat behind a desk and me and my coworkers on the other side as if he were a busy lawyer.  I tried jokes about the heat and other non-sense but he was having none of it.  This dude is a professional for goodness sake, what the hell was I thinking.  Not cracking a smile the entire time, I described, in too much detail for my co-workers to hear, the specifics about my, ummm ummm, 'issue'.  He proceeded to do a quick tummy exam and negated my worst fears (being a parasite or gastritis) and said I had an infection.  Gave me anti-biotics and rehydrating liquids (free as well) and sent me on my way.

Alas my friends, that was last Monday.  One week ago from today and I have yet to improve.  Therefore, Mr. Professional Doctor will be getting a new visit from me tomorrow.  So, in relation to writing this at 2am, that would be because I was woken up several times already (more so than usual actual) to my daily exercise regime of running to and from the bathroom.  Wish me luck this time!  I'm hoping to get rid of this thing before my mom and step-dad come to visit next Sunday the 30th.  Which leads me to bid you farewell for quite sometime my friends.  My weekly update will be delayed quite a bit upon their arrival.  But do not fret!  We have 10 days packed with typical Peruvian touristy stuff including Machu Picchu.  So keep checking back as I'll be sure to post pics as soon as possible as well as a recount of their visit.

For now...take care, stay well, and don't eat raw fish from a road side stand (yep, that might have been what did me in a few weeks back).

Pisco, Peru

I'm currently reading 'Eat, Pray, Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert (I could write an entire blog entry about my opinion on that book-which isn't necessarily favorable-but I won't open that can of worms) and although I can't say it's my favorite book in the world, there are some good points.  Elizabeth talks about everyone having a 'word' that describes them and she searched for a while to find that word for herself.  And then, she did all my homework for me and gave me my word, right then and there in her book.  Elizabeth explains that the word 'hobo' is short for 'homeward bound' (I had no idea...did you?), and the second I read that, I realized that was my word.  Sam=Hobo.  In the states, at least, we usually classify a hobo as a homeless person, but with this explination, it makes so much more sense and is so much more applicable to many other classifications of human beings.  I've recently been recounting my nomad-life lifestyle that I've lived my entire life as I know it and I realize that I'm always, 'homeward bound', but subconscienciously so.  I'm constantly moving around trying to find where I fit in and where I feel comfortable and really have a hard time sticking in one place for more than 6 months or a year (a whole year is really pushing it for me!).   Which brings me to talking about the inevitable...what next?  Well, when I figure that out, you'll be the first one to know, after myself of course:)

'How did you over your homesickness, anyway, Sam?'

As I stated earlier, I didn't really get over it but rather more or less accepted it and moved on.  It's still here, looming over me like that dirty cloud that always followed Linus (is that the right one?) on Charlie Brown.  However, my mom and step-dad's upcoming visit has helped me immensely.  First of all, we made everything final last week, and as of March 30th they will be basking in the Peruvian sun just as I have for the past 2 months.  And being the obsessive compulsive planner that I am, I immediately began thinking of their packing list.  While doing so, I became aware that I was leaving out the non-material items that are pre-requisites before you can make it one day in Pisco.  Additionally, it helped me flush out a lot of things in my own situation.  So, here it is...

It's short and sweet, especially compared to my previous blog lists (that's become a theme, hasn't it...yeah, I really like lists), but minimalization and simplicity was one of my goals during this trip.

I actually just got back from spending a frustrating/fun weekend in Ica with my co-worker, her boyfriend, his brother and their other friend.  It was fun, as we went to see a 'He's Just Not That Into You', and don't get me started on that either.  I'm just dissapointed that it didn't focus on any of the women being generally happy and content without male drama in their life (we can talk about this later), and my recent bowell issues were relieved to find the local Ica movie theatre bathrooms DID have toilet seats as my co-workers house indeed does not.  After the movie, my weekend hosts decided to drive around Ica and end up parking in front of the hippest local bar/club and all five of us sit in the car as though we were showing off our newest ride in the parking lot of KFC on Hambley BLVD (I'm not going to lie, a little homesickness did float away off into the chilly dessert night air, after that).  The first questions my co-worker's boyfriend asked was "Sam, why are there so many gays in your country?", followed by "Sam, why are there so many drugs in your country?"  I couldn't help but to respond to the first question with my typical rant, which I will not repeat here as that could take up my entire 4 month stay here, but the lack of diversity here in Peru seems to perpetuate the ignorance of not accepting anything that deviates from the 'norm'.  I had to go off and ask him to please explain who made him so all powerful to deem that he decided what was 'normal' and 'right and wrong'.  I will give him this, he listened to my point of view and didn't completely negate it.  But to the second question, I mean, really?  Seriously?  Do you know what continent you live in buddy?  Do you know what country is two doors up to the northeast (Colombia)?  Honestly, I don't think I need to say anything more about what I had to say about that.  I believe being able to rant and rave about my passionate feelings on gay rights and politics and religions and all other sorts of stuff revived me for the moment being.

The following day, today, we went to Huacachina.  A small beautiful lagoon oasis in the middle of a bunch of sand dunes in Ica.  It was truly gorgeous and breathtaking.  However, I was a little dissapointed.  There was sandboarding, dune buggying, swimming, paddle boating, all sorts of fun stuff that I was dying to do, but apparently today I was hanging out with the fuddy-duds of Ica and I was constantly warned about how dangerous all those activities were (even though there was about 50 people doing each of them and I didn't hear any crying, actually quite the contrary, quite a bit of laughing).  But that's something I just have to live with while I'm hear.  I've quickly learned that here in the Pisco/Ica area, although all my friends are locals, I deffinitely fit into the European/Gringo (hate that word by the way, but that's what I'm noted here as) 'I live for adventure at this current moment in my life' category and the locals are much more conservative with their fun and enjoy bottling it up during the week and letting it spew out all at once oh so carelessly drinking full calorie Inca Kola in the parking lot of their local bar while sitting in their car talking about politics.  Geez these people are so skanky and scandolous! (I hope you realize that's sarcasm!)  We also went to a local 'bodega' where the make the famous Pisco liquor and wine from scratch right from the grapes that grow in their back yard.  This was very interesting as it was clearly off the beaten path and not a popular tourist destination.  But all in all, it was a refreshing weekend after feeling caged in here in Pisco for the past 5 weeks.

I write this to you while listening to Loretta Lynn's 'The Old Rugged Cross', and am really missing a good ole' Sunday morning southern church service right now *sigh*.  Until next time, the Hobo is signing out...

Pisco, Peru

My deepest apologies for not getting this up sooner, but life here in Peru has been pretty crazy lately!

First off, I would like to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday, I really appreciate it!  I deffinitely feel loved and missed and although I had a wonderful time here in Peru celebrating with some fantastic women, I do indeed wish I had been home with my loved ones.

On that note, I must say that my time here in rustic Pisco is starting to ware.  As of yesterday, I've been in Peru for exactly 2 months.  I have A LOT of people who read my blog say 'wow Sam, it looks like your having a blast and that you really love it'.  Don't get me wrong, I do really love it.  But I also realize how much I love home and my family and friends.  I can say that day by day my patience for the little things runs thinner and thinner and much much thinner.  First of all, the color of my skin has never been so obviously aparent to me.  And with that, I don't just mean literally the color of my skin, but I mean, the fact that I'm 'western' or whatever the hell that really means.  So, I will create my homage to Jeff Foxworthy (or rather, a list of things that have just about made me go insane) by saying 'YOU KNOW YOU'RE WHITE WHEN':

If I were in Lima, I think I would be fine.  Hardly none of this happened to me in Lima.  But, I'm working in pretty isolated areas that are very very different from westernized, modernized areas.  And yes, of course I have experienced all this before in my many previous travels to Latin America, however, after just a couple weeks, this all seems so cute and dainty.  And after a couple of months, you want to gauge yourself in the eye with a fork each time one of these happens.  The main difference that I see is a true lack of diversity.  I try to explain to people here about walking into a primary school in the states and how many different colors of hair, eyes, skin, shapes and sizes and religions and languages and cultures you'll find and they're stunned.  So I guess what I'm saying is that I miss the States for so many reasons.  I miss not being able to experience the beginning's of Obama's reign, I miss Papa John's Pizza, I miss southern culture and KY and the mountains and the list could go on.  But only three weeks from today and my mom and stepdad will be here for 10 days, and after that I only have three weeks left until I head home.  In the mean time, I'm keeping myself busy with $0.90 black market DVDs that are copies (not shot in the theatre, thank God), Peruvian step aerobics, trying my damnest to eat vegetarian (that often means eating a lot of Doritos...that's for you Megan, if you're reading this), reading my books, and spending a lot of time on the computer.  Oh, and I almost forgot...and getting my 15 minutes of fame by being on a local Pisco TV Network to talk about the work I'm doing with Oxfam.  Hmmm, our program director at BC always told us to be very careful about giving ourselves away and making ourselves targets...but I'm pretty sure that just about sealed my fate.  I told my name, what company I worked for, and where I was from.  So, i'll be walking around Pisco for the next 8 weeks with a big target sign on my BIG FAT WHITE FOREHEAD:)

Pisco, Peru

*I tried to include this in my last blog but I exceeded the word limit so make sure you check out 'Made in Peru' that I posted today too.

I know some of you are asking...'so, what exactly are you doing in Peru anyway?'.  So I suppose I could answer the question.  I know you all are aware that I am here to finish up my internship hours for my Masters of Social Work from Boston College which will allow me to graduate this coming May, but on a more detailed note, I'm working for an organization called the Women's Federation of Ica (Ica is a city in Peru about 1 hour south of where I am now in Pisco) which has a program run here in Pisco working in 4 different sectors of the city trying to develop and improve the capacities of women affected by the earthquake of Aug. '07 which is 100% funded by Oxfam America (tecnically I currently am property of Oxfam, not the Women's Fed.).  Seeing as how there are two types of social work (Macro-community based involving policy change, advocacy, aka trying to prevent the problem & Clinical-direct client interaction, therapy, counseling, aka resolving the problem after the fact) I have been comissioned to practice both while working for Oxfam although I am supposedly studying for Macro at BC I have actually more clinical background than I do Macro.  5 afternoons a week I provide group therapy to women with PTSD mosty caused by the earthquake but also domestic violence.  4 mornings a week I stay in my room and work on my computer to develop a Strategic Plan for the Pisco-run program (Oxfam's funding for the program ends this coming May).  While the other morning I go into the office here in Pisco and participate in the weekly team meeting.  The work has been slow-coming as I've been in Pisco for over 4 weeks now and am just now starting my real work.  But that's just kind of how things run around here, and I've actually gotten used it. 

And you might also ask...'so, what exactly do you do for fun anyway?'.  Sam the Gym Rat of course has sniffed out an obscure gymnasium here amongst the bleak existence of choices in Pisco.  As I came to discover, sadly, elipticals do not exist in Pisco and I didn't even begin to describe it as I knew they'd think I was even weirder than I looked.  And the only cardio machine to substitute would be a manually operated treadmill, haha!  So I thought I would try out their step aerobics class which takes place at 6:30 Mon-Fri for S/40 per month ($12US) and have since been hooked.  Peruvian step aerobics (the Pisco version at least) includes use of a wooden rectangular box (instead of the plastic purple and green one which you can adjust), 10 year old American techno music turned up so loud I believe I now need hearing aids (Cher is a faveorite and so is Journey, yes they play Journey but to a VERY fast techno remix), spandex, spandex and even more spandex where there deffinitely SHOULD NOT be spandex if you know what I mean, no verbal commands of the movmentes but rather just watching the instructor and knowing to do the next move whenever she/he shouts 'WHOOOOOOOO!' or claps and a little splash more of spandex.  And on the weekends I've been known to head down south to Ica where a friend from work who is my same age lives.  Ica is a slightly larger town then Pisco that was pretty much unaffected by the earthquake.  They have more food choices (Pizza places, vegetarian fare), department stores and relatively safe clubs that we go to with her large and in charge boyfriend who has his own transportation and serves as our personal chofer for the entire weekend.  Other than that, on the weekends I've been known to frequent the local beach which is literally in my backyard and is only a 10 minute taxi ride away (you can be jealous...go ahead!).  The beaches here are not anything like any beach I've ever been to in the states.  First of all, most of them are not commercialized at all.  There is one local beach called 'Chaco' which is about 3 blocks long and has tons of artesan tables with various restaurants, stores, bathrooms, etc.  But the majority of the beaches lie in the protected land of the Paracas National Reserve which is more or less a gigantic dessert that, is, well, desserted.  A few of the beaches have some restaurants sprinkled around the area, but most of them are farely baren save for the fishermen and their beach front homes, personal motorized boats and tranquility, I mean this kind of house with this property and view would go for millions anywhere else in the States!  Most of the beaches are pretty rocky and you have to wear your flip flops in the water and the waves are either non-existant or very minimal which makes for great swimming conditions...except for the jellyfish.  Yes, I've already been stung once.  Dont' worry my dear friends.  It was nothing grave, and I was not dramatic about the situation in the least.  It simply passed by me and left a little burning rash for a couple of hours, but nothing a little 3 year old expired Benedryl cream couldn't cure:)  Other than that, there are crabs, lizards, and such that hang around pretty non-shalantly (<---spelling?).  And the sun is a schorcher!  Rarely in my life, besides when I was a lifeguard, have I ever needed to apply SPF30 save for maybe beginning of the season base tanning.  As a true sun worshipper I opt for the more hip, 'I'm a bad ass tanned chic' SPF15 on the hottest of days.  But here, SPF30+ is necessary, and reapplication is mandatory every few hours or you will be the color of santa clause's red suit for days on end!

Good news for those of you not on the May side of things...my mom and stepdad (and possibly grandfather) are coming to visit at least the week before holy week which is the first week of April but possibly even sooner.  Then, we will head to the Islas Ballestas which is a short boat ride from the Chaco beach I spoke about and is considered Peru's 'Galapagos Islands'.  During their visit we will also, of course, go to Machu Picchu, the 8th Wonder of the World (which is my biggest anticipation of this whole journey).  I am very excited to show some loved ones what my life is like here in Peru!  Please continue to keep me and my journey in your prayers and thoughts, primarily for safety:)  Miss you all!

Pisco, Peru

Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in Peru is made in Peru and proudly displays this label:

When I first discovered this, I thought it was wonderful.  I mean, they import literally 0% of anything, produce, meat, dairy, beauty products, you name it and it has that label.  And the only time you find imported goods is if you go to the big Supermarkets or Department stores in Lima.  (Well OK I did find Kraft Mac N Cheese, ValuTime Peanut Butter and Marachu Ramen Noodles at the Pisco supermarket but I quickly desiphered that supermarket was especially for tourists as I RARELY see any native Peruvians in there.)  I've always hated how everything I own in the States says 'made in china', 'made in ecuador', 'made in peru', 'made in indonesia' because it just makes me feel as if I'm fevourishly perpetuating the whole negativity of globilization.  And trust me, I try to buy 'made in the U.S.A.' stuff, oh indeed I try...but it's difficult my friends, diffcult and expensive.  So I quickly came to love the Peruvian product/consumer industry.  Until, I realized, 'made in Peru' is not always better (ok, so that's the first phrase that came into my head, although I realize how egocentric and VERY western that is...perhaps this is more appropriate:  Until, I realized, 'made in Peru' does not always meet my expectations/standards/liking.).  Up until today, I've had the Señora who I live with wash my clothes about once every two weeks for a mere S/3 ($1US...and that is two weeks worth folks).  But today I was bored and knew that without washing my clothes, I would not have anything else to do, so I offered to take care of it myself (I have been washing my own clothes since I was about 12 people, so do NOT get me wrong, I am fully capable...at least I thought I was).  Ana showed me how to work the washer and I was quickly comforted by seeing the above red and white label on the side of the machine.  I didn't even think twice and quickly loaded my two weeks worth of darks, filling the washer to the brim (oops! i.e. Carolina, Mom and Randy) and I don't even know how much detergent (they sell detergent by the here, about the size of a giany personal size Doritos...everything is in a bag, EVERYTHING...even the milk, the jelly...everything I tell you!  But seriously, how do you measure detergent from a bag????) and set the washer on the 'wash' cycle (choosing from 'wash', 'rinse', or 'spin', naturally).  So after about 45 minutes I come down and check on my clothes and they're still going with detergent stuck at the top with no end in sight.  I get irritated and shut the door and check back in 45 more minutes.  Nope, still going, but at least the detergent had dissolved.  3 hours from when I initally put my clothes in, the machine had stopped, detergent was gone, but the clothes were sitting in a puddle of water that reminded me of some kind of vegetable soup with all different kinds of different colorful veggies mixed in.  I got even more irritated and just rang the damn clothes out and took them up to the roof sopping wet to hang to dry.  And yes, in that load were the only two towells that I own and yes, I need to take a shower tomorrow, but that probably won't happen because they probably won't be dry.  Don't panick though, before I started my whites, I consulted with the expert Peruvian Washing Machine Operator, Ana, and she admitted that she failed to include the detail that you don't hit the most obvious button of 'wash' but that you go straight to 'rinse'.  I didn't ask ANY questions and just giggled sheepishly remembering the luxurious house that I live in back in the states (which is moderate by American standards, but certainly top fare for Pisco residents) and the millions of ammenities I have back at home which I am so thankful for and so often take for granted as the majority of the people I have come across in this district do not have these luxuries such as:

...any many many many many more.  But mostly, out of everything, I am thankful to have a warm, loving, supportive family that I can depend on at any given moment and a secure, large, well-built home to come back to whenever I need (right Mom?).

Pisco, Peru

I've always said, even before arriving in Peru, that my biggest fear in the whole world regarding this adventure (besides being secuestured in some strange car and kidnapped for ransom) is missing my bus stop during the four hour ride to Lima from Pisco and vice-versa.

I took this past weekend off and headed to Lima on Friday for a much needed break from the rustic life I'd been living for the past two weeks.  Everything went well until my trip home on Sunday afternoon.  I boarded the bus around 2:30pm, expecting to pull into Pisco around 6pm or 6:15pm.  Again, another Sam Sargent first was committed as I immediately fell asleep upon boarding the bus.  Usually I never sleep in cars, buses, plains or anything else that doesn't have a bed with a SOFT pillow and mattress, thank you very much!  But the two nights in a row of Lima nightlife had taken their toll.  And I was snoozin like a baby!  I remember waking up once when the call of nature hit my bladder like a ton of bricks and stopped to tinkle at one of the 3 major stops between Lima and Pisco.  Afterwards, I immediately fell back asleep.  Keep in mind that normally I am a VERY light sleeper and wake up at the slightest change in anything (movement, temperature, noise, etc.).  However, this trip was different.  Lima's nightlife had put an irreversable spell on me that felt like I had taken about 18 Ambien!  I woke up well rested and feeling great about how I'd passed the time when suddenly I looked out the window and realized that I didn't recognize anything that we were passing.  I thought to myself, 'maybe we've passed Pisco...no, no, no, no way!'.  Then I looked at my clock and saw that it was 6:36pm and once again, thought to myself, 'hmm, why is this trip taking so long, this is way longer than any other time I've ever taken this trip.'  But I settled back into my seat thinking we must have stopped an extra amount this time for some reason and kept waiting to see the familiar scenes come across my line of vision any minute.  When suddenly, the ticket-checker-guy-man passed by asking me where I was headed.  Keep in mind this is the same guy that had been on the trip with me the entire time, and how could he forget beauty such as this...I mean, come on!  And this ticket-checker-guy-man asks you at every stop again to see your ticket to make sure you've paid for the correct trip.  So when this young man asks me where I'm going, I immediately panicked.  I responded with 'ummm, Pisco, remember?" and he continues to tell me, yes...you guessed it, 'sorry, Miss, but we passed Pisco about 30 Kilometers ago (I don't know how many miles that is) and the next major stop is Ica, about 45 minutes away.'  'You're kidding, right?  Please don't tell me that!  What do I do?'  The whole back of the bus, where I was seated was in kuhutz trying to help me figure out what to do.  You see the difference between these buses and Greyhound is that you can pick up one of these buses anywhere on the side of the road if you can flag them down and then you pay for your ticket once you get in.  Or you can do the fancy thing and go all the way to the giant bus stop and pay there.  So of course, I was being encouraged to tell the bus driver to stop and let me out on the side of the desserted, dark Peruvian highway with sketchy cell phone service.  I declined, clearly!  Until they all tell me...'oh yes Miss, you should get off and switch at the beaje'.  At the time, I had no idea what that was and was too stressed to asked but they all seemed very confident with that decision and insisted that be my solution.  Otherwise, I was wouldn't return to Pisco until around 9pm after turning around at Ica.  So, I get off the bus at the 'beaje' which I realize is a toll booth on the highway and the men practically push me out of the bus and tell me to run across the highway and wait for another bus of the same brand.  With all this adrenaline pumping I didn't realize how bad of an idea it was, at all.  After crossing the highway I instantly spotted two police men who I kept my eyes on the entire time just waiting for the moment when I would have to flag them down for help.  Standing there for a couple minutes not one bus passed by with the same brand so I proceeded to board a bus of a different brand that I had taken previously.  The driver looked at me really funny and (almost crying) I tell him my story and beg him to let me on and tell him I will pay for the ticket if I have to.  He laughs and declines my money and lets me sit in the front seat for the 30 minute ride back to Pisco.  So yes, I got home safe, unscaved.  Thank the Lord!

Today I got a fish bone stuck in my throat for about 10 minutes.  It was very unpleasant.  About half the size of a toothpick.  We were on our way getting into the taxi to take me to the dentist to get it out when I managed to pull it out.  Thank the Lord!

I realize after my transporation discussion in a previous blog, that I forgot to tell everyone the collective taxi system to and from Humay (remember, where the scary Mayor is).  To get to Humay you have two options...you can take a 'micro' which is basically a disgustingly beat up conversion van that can usually fit between 15-20 people (the higher number entailing that some people will be standing completely bent over often with their ass in your face).  The other option is to take a 'colectivo' which is a taxi for multiple people.  These taxis are either a station wagon or sudan (but either way just as beat up and rickity as the micros) and MAXIMUM are built for 5 people.  However, normally, you will find yourself amongst 10 other happy passengers.  Yes, you heard me right...11 people in a vehicle built for 5!  This includes the taxi driver in the driver's seat, someone in the front passengers seat, someone else (usually me for some reason) sitting on a little cushion (which is more like a folded up towell) on the console in between the two front seats with the gear shift stuck up your a** and practically hugging some stranger as if you two were spooning.  Then four people in the back seat, and four people in the hatch-back (if it's a station wagon).  I have yet to see anyone in the truck of a sudan...yet...I repeat.  And I have yet had to be one of the passengers seated in the hatch-back section.  Thank the Lord!

Pisco, Peru

**BTW...I wrote another blog entry right before this one but including this information it was too long and I had to put it in seperately, so make sure you check out 'Indiana Jones and the Adventures of Cat Woman' as well as my new pics that I have up!**

Currently I have about 25 mosqitoe bites, and I think that is an understatement.  'Off Deep Woods' is an insect ATTRACTOR I swear!  I spray myself down, practically bathing in the environmental hazardous deet and still come home ever day with new bites.  I'm constantly itching and went through one tube of anti-itch stuff in 4 days.  And it doesn't really even stop the itching.  There's also these little animals that bite you but you can't see them they're so small but they draw significant amount of blood, enough for it to be dripping to the floor from my knee.  And it doesn't itch nor hurt, it just bleeds.  Oh yes, I have several of those.  The Peruvians keep telling me that the bugs are on high alert because they've been spreading the word to each other that there's fresh, plump, white meat in town.  I think they're right.  The Peruvians never seem to get bit, and they don't even put on bug spray, but I'm covered in red whelts!  What's the deal?  I've also been told it's because I'm sweeter, haha!  And my tan?  Oh it's coming along juuuuust fine.  I usually wear shorts/skirt/capris with a tank top and flip flops even out to the back country where we have to trek forever.  But that's how I'm the most comfortable even though everyone (except lovely Amelia) almost force me to wear a heinous white long sleeve button down with floral embroidery and jeans and tennis shoes in 90 degree weather people!  I refuse!  But they constantly worry about my skin against the elements of sun and bugs.  Can you blame them?  But I stand my ground.  You all know I sweat profusely, and I'd rather have a suntan and bug bites than be drenched from head to toe every day from sweat. 

Pisco, Peru

For those of you who haven't heard yet...Pisco experienced another earthquake on Monday late morning.  Well ok so I've been known to exaggerate (which I have yet to do on any blog postings thus far I'll have you know), so it was much more of a 'tremor' so say the locals.

We were in the office in San Clemente, about 10 minute drive northeast of Pisco.  I was sitting at an office desk with one of my co-workers on the other side.  She had been bothering my chair by kicking it every once in a while and all the sudden, the entire table shook.  I thought to myself 'ok, this has gone far enough, shaking the table during a meeting! I can't concentrate'.  Simultaneously, I heard a loud rumble which I attributed to the many semi trucks that roll by minute after minute and completely drown out every possible other noise within ear shot.  Then, the words were spoken...'temblor (tremor)', but very oh-so calm.  I jumped out of my seat and felt another nudge from the ground and suddenly realized my co-worker was indeed not shaking the table and a semi had not just passed by.  I remember the scene as if I started running around the office like a mad-woman.  My boss calmly looked at me as if she's done this a million times (and she probably has) and said, in Spanish, of course...'Sam, calmy but quickly just walk outside as far away from the building as possible'.  I grabbed my phone and followed her lead.  No my friends, this was not unnecessary anxiety.  I had a full, legal prescription this time folks!  As we stepped outside some people were crying but most everybody seemed ok.  But immediately everyone was on the cell phones...well except for me.  Who was I going to call???? 

Turns out the tremor registered at a 6.3 in it's center (which happens to be Pisco).  Keep in mind that the devasting, fatal earthquake of 2007 was an 8.0!  We weren't too far off this time.  Many people said they went home and a lot of things had fallen on the floor but nobody was hurt.  When you ask the locals how often these tremors happen, the shrug with disregard and says there's no way to answer that question.  Sometimes it's multiple times in a day and other times they go months without feeling anything.

Besides the earthquake, well fine...tremor...everything has been good with my second week in Pisco.  Work is slow coming.  I spend a lot of time in the back country eating those delicious grapes (which surprisingly did not give me the craps I'm happy to report) and a fruit that I terribly dislike but continue to eat because it's the most audatiously rude thing to deny anything given to you here called IGO.  It's the exact shape and color of an eggplant but about 1/8th the size.  When you peel it, it looks like a banana on the inside.  Then you bite in and it's this wierd pollop like stuff that's pinkish on the inside.  It has almost no flavor except it takes kind of like...umm...well...dirt maybe?  I don't know.  It's not sweet and it's just well wierd.  I almost gag everytime I eat it.  But I eat it, none the less.  

Everything here seems to take about cuadruple the amount of time it would take at home.  And I'm still adjusting to that.  The transportation is the biggest problem.  Yesterday we were in the backcountry and trying to get to a really remote area which took 1.5 hours of trekking across rivers on bridges either makes of two measly twigs or a bridge horrifingly reminiscent of something on an Indiana Jones movie that moves and shakes with every breath you take and the rushing white rapids below you are just waiting for the crazy native at the end of the bridge to high-jack it and cut the tiny twine that hold the bridge up so the white cloud like substence below can consume you for lunch (no the native at the end of the bridge doesn't exist...but you never know, so I scurried across as fast as I could), also trekking through sand, rocks hills and more sand until we reach the community.  And yes, to answer your question if that is the only possible way to get there, indeed it is.  And many of them make the journey daily.

I have become very close with one of my co-workers named Amelia and her daughter Dulce (aka Sweet in English).  I spend most of my time with them in their region of Humay and have become very fond of both of them.  Dulce is four and has become my surrogate niece since Cade is not around (physical surrogate, Carolina, not emotional).

Getting to work everyday is an adventure.  I walk out of my tucked away, safe, guarded neighborhood and catch a 'moto' on the main street which is a motorized tricycle with a metal covering over it with a front seat for the driver and a back seat to fit 3 people.  It costs s/1 ($0.30US) and it takes me to the center of the open air market where I find my same little guy every morning shoving people into a beat down car to go to San Clemente, which I pay s/1.5.  The taxi never departs until it's completely full, which means the driver, a front passenger, and three back passengers.  Yes, three strangers...touching...skin to skin.  It's gross.  But I'm used to it by now.  The little guy that shoves people in knows me pretty well by now so he usually tries to save me the front seat so I don't have anyone's skin sticking to me....ewwwwww!  You know what I mean...

Food, well, I eat a lot of rice, fish, rice and more rice.  For breakfast I usually stop on the street and get a fried egg stuck between two pieces of a roll like bread.  Very good!  Or sometimes this fried patty of vegetables stuck between the same bread.  For lunch it's rice and fish usually.  I've been served chicken and meat both now only once and managed to pick around both of them without offending or alerting anyone.  I just feel like the vegetarian police are going to jump out at any minute and secuesture me!  Other wise, I've been promised dozens of Cuy (guinea pig) meals upon my imminent return to many communities.  I usually just laugh and say, oh that sounds great...and immediately start conjuring up my story for why I can't eat it when I return.  Then dinner is usually a peanut butter sandwich or some ramen noodles that I make in the family's kitchen below.

In the evenings I've been locking myself in my room as it's terribly unsafe to go out in Pisco at night unaccompanied by a native Peruvian.  Although I know many people that would assist me, I often don't want to bother.  So I usually return to my room right before dusk, check e-mails, do some work on the computer, talk to some friends and then hit the hay.

Oh machismo is an epidemic here!  I've resorted to wearing my sunglasses almost around the clock as many men have been calling me the 'cat' lady because of my eyes.  I get fewer whistles with my glasses on but trust me, they're still abundant.  Oh yes my friends, I am one hot comodity here in Peru, let me tell you.  I have already been offered to marry a man with substantial amount of land where he grows corn and has plentiful livestock and he lives in the town that takes an 1.5 to get to.  Talk about tranquility!  Hmmm...no I think I'll pass on that one, although I never met the man.  Maybe I should see him first before negating the offer altogether??  Nah!  I like my running water and electricy and no flies and no dirt floors thank you very much. 

Pisco, Peru

First of all...my grandest apologies for not posting anything sooner!  It wasn't that I didn't have time (trust me, I had PLENTY of time).  But rather, nothing much exciting had happened up until now. 

Last week, there wasn't much to do in the office, and my supervisor had to travel to Pisco to do some work, so I was only in the office for a couple hours on Thursday and Friday.  But, with all this free time, I wanted to see as much of Lima as I could before moving 4 hours south to Pisco.  Unfortunately, most of my friends work, or, rather, just actually have a life and were disappointingly unavailable most of the week.  So I moped around La Casa Roja a lot, watching a lot of TV and occasionally stepped outside the colorful walls of my temporary Peruvian home to sightsee in El Centro de Lima (Center of Lima).  I went with my Louisiana-made housemate and native Peruvian friend to look around for a couple hours (see pics).  El Centro de Lima is pretty much like any Latin American Centro (old, Spanish-style buildings, hustle and bustle, beautiful cathedral, etc.), but a little more run down.  Lima ain't got nothing on Mexico City (holla!).  But at any rate, it was a nice break from the mundane normality of walking around Miraflores (my neighborhood) endlessly and spending too much money on food, taxis and clothing.

Sunday morning, preparing for my impending move to Pisco, I woke up, packed my things (all 4 embarrassingly, American-sized bags) and headed to the bus station in a taxi where the short and stout little old Peruvian taxi driver (that implies "male" as NONE are female) almost fell over from an aneurism while helping me with my luggage in and out of the taxi.  But don't worry folks...bus station?  I know what you're thinking.  Especially, if you've been to Latin America.  But let me tell you, these things are nicer, bigger and cleaner than any Greyhound I've ever been on!  I opted for the "ejecutiva" seat, which is only S/3 ($1US) more than the "normal".  Supposedly you get more room, but I question the truth in that statement!  But I thought I would splurge a little and give myself the extra room, especially since I was carrying an extra bag full of anxiety (as you all know) and I knew that my anxiety needed some breathing room with no stranger brushing up against it every time we hit a pot hole (which are surprisingly few and far between...I mean, this is a nice ass highway!). 

The route to Pisco is a scene unlike anything I've ever laid my eyes on.  Driving south, we trace the coast almost exactly with the highway only ½ mile or so from the beach.  Almost all four hours consist of beautiful, often completely empty beaches and coves to your right and pure sand dunes directly to your left with those intimidating and curiously interesting, inhabitable greenless dessert mountains as the backdrop.  By hour 1.5, my neck was cramping from keeping my eyes locked on the gorgeous aquatic scenery to my right.  I often wondered why so much beach front property was still untainted, but I figured if I pondered too much, that the gorgeous, untouched land would be ruined by my thoughts and forever tampered with, never returning to it's present state of innocence and purity.  Finally, with a neck cramp, my 4 bags, and anxiety in tow, we reach Pisco and I am met by Hugo, the man from whom I am renting a room (with my own bathroom, laundry and cooking service).  Hugo gawks at my bags as well and I couldn't have chosen a better way to look disgustingly more Western, than to have brought so much "stuff"!  We arrived to my new home which is in a two story, very nice (especially for Pisco) house that was surprisingly completed not affected by the earthquake 1.5 years ago.  My room is nice and quaint.  New tile floors and a newly done bathroom too.  Yet, I'm without internet (until who knows when in these parts...), I can never get my key to work and currently I have no lock or door knob and must the leave the door cracked open with all my valuables inside, the "mattress" (well, better known as a rectangular piece of cloth sewn together and completely empty inside...yes, it's bad...really bad...I wake up with bruises it's so hard!) that I had to buy myself is well, hard, the pillow that I had to buy myself is, well, hard too (I mean, don't even think about trying to get in a pillow fight with me when I'm armed with this sucker, man!  I will take you OUT!), the room is about 90 degrees (probably an exaggeration, but not much), I don't have much privacy...and I think that's all my complaints.  Other than all that, it's actually just fine.  It's just no Casa Roja!  I have a twin bed, a bed side table, a desk and a working bathroom.  That's all I need, right?

My first week here in Pisco is "filled to the brim" with work.  I'm spending two or three days with each of the "promotoras" (promoters) of the Women's Federation, accompanying them to their individual  provinces (4 in total) to get a better idea of the area in which I will be working and the people whom I will be serving.  The back country here is tucked away to the left of the highway amongst sand, dust, mountains, green farmland (cotton, corn, grapes), dust, dust and more dust.  Did I mention it was dusty here?  Pisco is to the right of the highway (with all the beautiful beach scenery).  Oh but the grapes, the grapes!  The ones they export are typical and taste just like ours do back home (probably b/c I ate one from the batch that will be sold at Kroger in a month or so) but the ones that the families make for themselves are purely natural and organic with no pesticides and have a much richer, robust flavor...AMAZING, I tell you!  I can't even describe it.  It doesn't taste like a grape at all.  Well, I'm sure it tastes more like a grape is supposed to taste compared to what we're used to. 

My first day I worked a long, arduous 10 hours filled with walking, walking, sweating (90 degrees and wearing jeans=not a good combination), collecting dust, sweating, eating spider web laden grapes (which I'm sure will give me the craps later), walking, sweating, getting my nails painted some ridiculously, childish color with flowers and rhinestones by my 40 year old coworker who thought it was the sexiest thing since a mini skirt, eating a massive lunch of preposterously good fried sting ray, rice and potatoes (yes, I am a vegetarian that eats fish...I have to work with it a little in this meat obsessive country...please don't call the vegetarian police!), collecting dust again, walking, sweating, and some more walking.  All in all, it's pretty hard work, but right now I'm just getting to know the area. 

So no recent run-ins with the Mayor of Humay (thank God).  But who knows...he could be hiding in the grape fields, ready to jump out with his bad ass machismo self any minute...AHHHHH!!!!!!! 

And yes, I am made fun of by every child under the age of 16.  I am laughed at, poked at, gawked at, and stared at.  I think I should start charging money for my appearances!  I mean, I provide so much entertainment by simply standing still. 

No, no, for the moment all is tranquilo in the land of delicious grapes, dust, hot bedrooms, dust, hard mattresses and pillows, dust, stares and more dust.
  

Lima, Peru

**PARENTAL ADVISORY** Let me preface this blog entry with saying this might not be appropriate for Kirsten, Christopher, Kate, and especially not Cameron, Carly or Cade!

All in all I'm taking this experience in very well.  I haven't gone through any major culture shock...yet (I must say).  However there are cultural differences unique to only the American/Western society that are very hard to abandon.  For instance, the aspect of time and puntuality.  On Friday, I was told by my supervisor that I might be traveling to Pisco (my future home base) with a fellow Oxfam employee to find housing, observe the goings-on of the Pisco office, etc.  But insisted that she would call me before 10:30 Monday morning to let me know if indeed I was going, and that no matter what to come into the office at 10:30.  10:40 rolls around, and my new Peruvian cell phone had not rung once.  So I take my American 'go-getter' attitude and march on down to the office (all 4 blocks away from my house).  And...SURPRISE...neither of my bosses are in.  One was, but left about an hour ago.  And the other, well, the secretary hasn't heard anything from her!  I finally find somewhat of a reliable source, and she tells me that one of my bosses will be in later and will give her the message to call me so that I can get the details about the Pisco trip.  To make a long story short...I locked myself in my room from 10:45 until when they finally called at 4:30 thinking they would call at any minute and I'd need to be ready in a moment's notice!    Althought they called me at 4:30 to tell me "chop-chop, time to go", I took my sweet ass time and called them 30 minutes later.  Needless to say, we didn't even get on the road until 6, putting us in Pisco at 10!  Oh the humanity of time cousciousless people!

Pisco is a small rural town 4 hours south of Lima directly on the coast and mainly thrives off of their tourist and fishing industries.  In August of 2007, the area experienced a devastating earthquake of 8.0 magnitude and are still recovering from the after effects.  I'll be working with a local Women's Federation doing some group therapy with some of the local women who have experience Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, domestic violence, and other general hardships.  Additionally, I will be assessing what community wide provisions are needed in terms of community organizing, advocacy, policy change, etc.

On my second full day in Pisco I was headed out to field with some of my future coworkers to get to know the area a little better.  Our first stop was a small province called Humay, to introduce myself and my future work to the mayor (alcalde in Spanish) of the town.  Our ride consisted of about 20 minutes through the beautiful back country, laying my eyes on sites I had never seen before!  The enourmous sand dunes backed up against lucious green, tropical-like scenes.  Cotton and corn fields with livestock in every corner.  It was spectacular.  As we pulled into Humay, the disparity was definitely there, but the people seemed grateful for their accomplishments post-earthquake.  As we headed into the center of the town, where the mayor's office was, my co-workers informed me that the municipal building was brand new, as the old one had been completely destroyed and every last piece fell to the ground due to the heavy siesmic activity.  Walking in, it was new alright, but too new.  There was still dust everywhere from construction, there was no toilet paper in the bathrooms, the toilet stalls for too small for squatting (or that could have been my giant American thighs obstructing the way, hmm?).  I was quickly given a tour, and indeed, was impressed with this new building which doesn't resemble anything I've seen in any Latin American province this small.  We were met by the mayor, a giddy, pot-bellied man wearing a mustard yellow short sleeve button down, black pants, black socks and black open toe sandals.  He escorted the four of us into his office and began by telling a some fable about marriage traditions in Peru.  I dozed off in my inner monologue, gazing at the new technological wonders in his office, and thinking how this money could've been used in more useful ways as 3/4 of the building aren't even in use, until a certain word woke me out of my stooper.  "Orgasmo", I hear the mayor say.  I think "no, my brain is just over loaded right now, that's not what he said".  "Yes, yes, it's true you know.  Women are multi-orgasmic, where as men can only go once and then, pff, that's it!" he says.  Yes, you heard me right, and yes, I heard him right.  He launches into a 30 minute discussion about sex, in graphic detail, and asks in and every one of us our opinions on different topics he brings up a long the way, like, prostitution, foreplay.  The four of us include...my female boss, one of my female work counterparts, and a male coworker from the Lima office.  Yes, I'm BRIGHT red by this point.  My rosacia is at work in full force, man!  I decline to comment and cover my face with hands like I'm going to play peek-a-boo with this head of the city.  "What have I got myself into", I think!  I keep looking around the room at my collegues to gauge their reactions, and they are playing along with him, so I make sure to politely joke and gasp at his perverted statements.  Eventually, I don't remember how, the subject changes and we begin to speak professional logistics.  And before I know it, we're leaving.  But nooooo!  Mr. Mayor of Humay has to get some last jabs in there.  So as we leave he's making some more sexual jokes and escorts us three ladies out his office.  We were in a line of three (the male had left previously) with me being the last one out the door besides the mayor, and when I think I'm in the clear to leave this terrible situation, he closes the door behind my two female counterparts and bids them farewell with a huge smile on his face, shuts the door, and puts his arm around me...OH SHIT!  I can't tuck and roll out of the mayors office!  Trust me, if I could I would, but I'm in between this jolly man and a wall.  Maybe the karate moves my dad taught me back in the day would come in handy. "HI-YAH! Take that Mr. Mayor Man!" But no I just reach for the door and look up at his gold-laiden smile and jokingly swag my finger back and forth at him.  I was worried there'd be a struggle, but no, he let me go and laughed the entire time.  I'm not sure if I was more apauled at his actions, or the fact that the other two females never came after me and didn't realize I was still stuck back there until I opened the door and his real, boisterous and my fake, cackling laughter filled the reception area.

Well, any pre-concieved notions about Latin American's being sexually reserved was thrown out the door!  I was later told by my co-workers that was a prime example of the horrible machismo "male sexism" that goes on around here but they had to play into it and not act offended or they wouldn't get anywhere with him and he wouldn't help our cause. 

So, Mr. Mayor Man, thanks for making this world a better place for the females of your community.  And what a way to welcome a new-comer:)

Lima, Peru

I was sent off to Pisco (my home base) from Lima on Monday afternoon, and endured the horribly uncomfortable 4 hour bus ride south with a fellow Oxfam employee going down to the region to do some program evaluation.  Arriving in the very late evening, I wasn´t able to tell anything about my future home as it was pitch black!  So, as exausted as we both were, we quickly headed up to our rooms to retire for the evening. 

I wasn´´t alone, though.  I had a friend following me, and stalking me, from the moment I walked into the hotel, and he followed me right into my room!  IT was.....Biche, the resident house cat.  I´ve always told people I have a wierd thing with cats even though I´m much more a dog person.  Cat´s are attracted to me like magnets.  Both cats I´ve had in the past couple years would prefer the foot of my bed ofr lounging and resting to any other part in the house.  Biche was no different.  I tried to scurry him out, but then he would just jump through the window, which was my only means of ventilation!  So I attempted to go to sleep with him, on my bed, this strange cat (at that point, I didn´t know his name, and for all I knew, he was rabid with multiple peruvian cat diseases!).  But, I was lonlely for my own animals and felt comforted by his animalistic affection.  We got into bed and he quickly assumed position mimicing the Spinx on my back with his head matched up with mine and his tail between my legs. But his instictive cat "kneeding" on my back was what ultimately lulled me to sleep as does my cat at home, Butterscotch!

Lima, Peru

Everyone in Lima complains about the heat, no matter what time of day.  However, for a dessert climate, I must say that it´s extremely barable (and this coming from the most hot blooded woman north of the equator).  I really haven´t even had much of a problem with sweating!  I´ve quickly adapted to absolutely NO air conditioner.  Not even in the rich people homes.  Natural ventilation, it´s a wonder!  But the house has to be built for it.   

After my first experience of sleeping in, the day after getting to know Peruvians in their natural habitat (the discotec), I puttered around, eating breakfast and updating my blog, when I got a call from Diana in the early afternoon asking to join her and her family for lunch.  I gladly obliged as she said she would call a taxi for me.  Upon entering the taxi, I negotiated a price with the driver of S/19 ($6.50 US) (taxi prices in Peru are fixed as they don´t work on a meter system). I remembered Diana telling me she lived in the province of Molina but I was never really sure exactly where that was.  Yet, when analyzing the price of the taxi fare, I conjured that she couldn´t live that far.  I mean, $6.50 won´t get you from Brighton to Brookline (for Bostonians) or from the Bypass to the Scott Edition (for Pikevillians).  I quickly established a no talking policy with the driver immediately after noegotiating the price, as I prefer to take in new scenery and experiences in silence, it allows for better processing.  My inner monoloque quickly set in telling me I never wanted this taxi ride to end!  I must have looked like a dog with my head sticking out the window and my hair flapping in the wind like ears on a bassett hound.  But I was so happy seeing all these new scenes and movements from parts of Lima I hadn´t yet had the opportunity to get to know.  It was like watching a movie with real special effects.  My excitement grew as a quite unfamiliar scene started to appear in the distance.  A chain of greenless mountains, covered in sand.  I marveled at their wonder and watched as cars went up and down like busy ants on and an ant hill.  I briefly pondered the though of asking the driver where the mountains led, but realized that would immediately break open the flood gates of my no talking policy, which would then allow him the freedom to ask me any questions he wanted and I would be greatly distracted from watching this amazing movie (although he already broke the silence by commenting on the heat SEVERAL times).  All was fine and good in the land of taxis and mountains until suddenly I looked up and realized that the mountains were no longer in the distance, but right in front of us!  Within 20 minutes into the trip, I started immeditaely regretting my inner monologue about the wonderfulness of this trip.  And before I could even think anything else, we were ascending the dreaded mountains before my very eyes.  I thought, "crap, I´ve gotten in the wrong taxi, this is one of those kidnapping taxis.  nothing good could come from around this bend!  shit, why didn´t I practice tucking and rolling amongst on coming traffic while at home?"  Oh boy, the sweat started to pour, the head came inside the window and the hand went on the handle waiting for the perfect moment to........ahhhhhhh!  Yes, the angels of relief sounded off like church bells on a sunday afternoon.  "Molina ---->" a sign says, pointing in the direction we´re going.  Unnessecary anxiety, once again, but still, I might practice some tuck and roll drills off my bed into the floor in the saftey of my own room tonight!

I was once again stricken with anxiety when thinking if Diana had remembered my vegetarianism or not, but she assured me, that she did.  I was lovingly greeting just like a long lost family member by father, mother, sister, brother, aunt and two uncles.  They immediately handed me Peruvian beer (delicioso!) and my appetizer of roasted potatoes, giant corn (and I mean GIANT, like kernels the size of nickels giant) with a creamy yellow spicy sauce.  I rid my plate of everything all short of licking it clean.  I was then handed my favorite meal in the whole world...a cheese tamal with pickeled onions!  Oh if this is what heaven´s like, I´´ll be there with bells on!  All the while being waited on hand and foot, I consider sneaking away to the bathroom to give the button to my jeans the ever so needed relief they´d been asking for after the third beer but withhold my urge.  I´ll be alright, I tell myself.  Until the third course comes of whole wheat ravioli and mushrooms, an entire plate full!  Trying not to be rude, I force it all down as much as I can, leaving about 1/3 left.  Oh boy, "Anybody have some sweatpants I can borrow?"  And then, dessert, icecream of local fruits mixed with fresh mango.  UMMMMMMMMM!

All the sudden, I looked up and realized that we had been sitting around talking and eating for over 3 hours!  There had been absolutely no negative talk about anything the whole time, no grunting and moaning and groaning about the previous work week or the one to come.  No pushing each others button about disagreeable topics.  It was just the art of doing "nothing".  I thought all along I was good at it for an American, but no!  I´m horrible!  I thought my weekends laying around the house in pj´s and watching tv was doing nothing.  Recooperating and re-energyzing from the arduous workweek behind me.  But no!  I know nothing about doing nothing!  That´s for sure.  But I learned some new tricks.  Just sitting around with your family and friends, enjoying life, not trying to fill the space with anything of anticipation, but rather, just living in that very moment.  Doing nothing, is wonderful.  I hope to practice it often!  And thank you-Diana-for being so kind and opening up your home to me (and the food was AMAZING, every last bite)!

Lima, Peru

First just about the first time in my life, I've slept in until 12pm.  Usually, no matter the time of which I go to bed, I'm always up before 9am.  Well, folks, not after experiencing Peruvian nightlife!

Ironically, a fellow BC student (Diana) is from Lima and I had the chance to get to know her while we were both still in Boston.  Naturally, for the holiday vacations, she came home to be with her family and our travels are coinciding by 3 days.  So, yesterday she invited me to her going away party at 10:30 and I happily accepted.  But then, slight anxiety crept in (as it always does with me, regarding any situation, for any reason).  I thought "wait, is this too soon?  I haven't even been here 24 hours yet.  There's so many bad things that can go wrong!"  So I committed another Sam Sargent first by taking a nap in the late afternoon as I was still exhasted from the 16 hour long travel session the day before.  Upon waking, I felt a little better and just told myself "relax, just go with the flow".

Diana met me here at my apartment in a taxi and off we were to her friends house.  Asking her what our plans were for the night, that was the only information I was given.  So I assumed there was nothing else on the agenda...

We arrived at 10:30.  Her friends house was nothing short of a spread in architectural digest.  Immaculate!  Yes, I like the way these people roll.  I felt slightly at home, as the Christmas tree was still up, decorated with santa and snowmen ornaments (of which I deeply pondered the irony) and the beautiful large manger scene set up in the fire place is only matched by the one in our church back in Pikeville.  The house reminded me much of my Granddad's, as well.  Clean lines, whites and other neutrals.  But the Christmas tree and manger, yes, that was refreshing.

As friends started to pour in, soon, we totaled 18.  I can't say I was having a total blast, but I wasn't bored to death either.  I felt out of place and awkward for the first couple of hours.  I understood everything everyone was saying, but I just couldn't really contribute to the conversation, especially when the boys randomly started talking about nose hair trimming (however all the females in the room seemed a little more quiet during that space of convo).  A couple hours into the evening I noticed not a single person had inquired about this random white, curly-haired, short girl who was sitting around like a knot on a log.  I kept thinking..."HELLO!  Clearly I'm not from Peru.  Don't I look interesting to you?  Why aren't you asking me my story?  HUH?"  Then, as intoxication set in (on them, not me), I was surrounded by four men (handsom-referring to Jami's question, and masuline-referring to Carolina's question) asking about my political thought and yes, finally, my story!  They were intrigued, and even more so that I had only been in Lima one day.

Evenutally I was forced to try a Pisco sour.  The national drink of Peru (I think?) that is derived from something that causes it to be 40% alcohol (more info to come on that when I move to Pisco, from which the drink was named).  I drank another.  And they were impressed with my American tolerance for alcohol as I really wasn't even buzzing despite the lack of food in my stomach. 

I started to get tired and wanted to go home.  Other people's yawning contagiously affected me.  Diana had warned me that if you want to take a cab home, you have to call 1 hour in advance.  By the time I was ready to head home, it was around 2am.  But nobody shared the same sentiment.  I was confused.  Everyone was seemingly sober and in the states, we'd all have been gathering our things and out the door by now (and there would be at least 1/3 of the party population completed obliterated).  Then I heard the ever so relieving "vamos chicos!  vamos! (let's go guys!  let's go!) spoke by the party host.  I think, finally!  But wait...fuddy dud Sargent is thrown for a loop.  Everyone's walking out together.  This doesn't look at all like a mass exodus, but rather, wait, oh crap!  They're going to a discotec, AT 2:45 IN THE MORNING!  Clubs shut down at 2 in Boston!  Oh geez, what do I do?  I can't look like the stupid morning bird American and say "sorry guys, I haven absoutely nothing to do tomorrow, therefore don't have to be up early, but, I'm going home hours before any of you, because, frankly, I just can't hack it."  NO!  Instead, I went with gusto! 

As we arrived to the discotec called "El Sede", I noticed all of the single men in the group of Diana's friends coming up to me and saying "hey, when we get inside, you're with me, ok?"  I thought, is this a normal Peruvian custom?  Are they being super nice and gentelmenly protecting me from the inevitable forces of machismo that I will encounter inside?  No...no they weren't.  Apparently, we were at a gay club and they didn't want men to hit on them. 

Yes, a very interesting scene, indeed!  Boy George, Madonna, Menudo, David Bowie, Queen.  Again, I felt at home.  I knew the words, and they didn't, HAHA, in your face Peruvians!  Well, the straight guys didn't know the words anyway. 

Then...get ready...yes, it happened.  SALSA!  As you all know, I was in heaven, and quite impressive on this Pervuian crowd who I'm sure thought I had know rhythmic bone in my body!

The night ended around 4:45 when Diana's masculine and handsome best friend offered to accompany me home.  Relief again, set in hard core as I was anxious all night about the going home arrangements and really didn't want to take a cab by myself.  He kindly saw me to my door...and well, now I'm awake. 

Lima, Peru

So I arrived to Lima late last night and was taken to my Hostel called La Casa Roja.  I cant wait to get pictures up for everyone!  This place is insane!  It´s this gorgeous red house (hence La Casa Roja) with 11 or so bedrooms and a shared kitchen and living quarters.  My room is beautiful and quite large with my own bathroom!  The house sits on this little corner and has wonderful shrubbery and achitecture.  The place is run by this married couple named Graciela and Gita and have a 5 year old son named, yes, get ready...Jagganuth.  Their all vegetarian harekrishnas and very peaceful people...kind of my idealistic self in 10 or 20 years.

Graciela lovingly took me to the giant supermarket, or kroger, or food city.  It´s called WONG!  Yes, it´s run by an Asian family and is the biggest supermarket in Peru.  I can buy everything I buy in the states...even SOY MILK!  I know I´m in the romantic stage right now and culture shock hasn´t hit me yet...it will though...it will creep up when I´m least expecting it and scare the living crap out of me.  But I´m ready, bring it on! 

I must go, because I have to try to go buy a cell phone.

Chao;)

Lima, Peru

I leave for Peru on Thursday, January 8th from the Cincinnati Airport to complete my second year internship for my Masters of Social Work at Boston College. I'll be working with Oxfam America (one of the oldest and most reputable International Non-Governmental Organizations around) to restructure their overall strategic plan as well as implement some community organizing and advocacy by working to empower a women's organization run by Oxfam that was greatly affected by the Pisco Earthquake in August of 2007.

I'm so excited, a little nervous, but more excited. There's so many unknowns! My first stop will be in Lima, the capital city. I'll be staying there for the first two weeks so that I can go through orientation and get adjusted to the work I'll be doing. After that, I head off to my base in Pisco (4 hour bus ride south) where I'll spend the majority of my time, although I will periodically travel to and from Lima to do some admistrative duties in the main office.

Packing begins tomorrow! Wish me luck...