Carnivales!

February marked the celebration of carnivales in Perú; a time to throw water balloons at one another and enjoy the carefree spirit of children, all culminating into the great celebrate on the Saturday of February which marked an all day water and paint fight. Because it is famously celebrated in Cajamarca, a region in the sierra, Becca took a few vacation days and visited Cajamarca for the first time.

Febrero fue la celebración de los carnivales en Perú; un tiempo para celebrar la juventud y lanzar globos de agua. Becca visitaba Cajamarca por primera vez para conocer y participar en el día mas importante de carnivales.

In her first day, Becca spent time with other volunteers, visited churches, ate delicious food and soaked in the famous local hot springs Baños del Inca.

En los primeros días, ella pasó tiempo con los amigos, visitó las iglesias, comió la comida rica (como siempre) y sitios turísticos y bañó en los baños del inca.

Saturday morning, Becca woke up ill with food poisoning. In between rounds vomiting she cursed the street food she’d so enjoyed the night before. Luckily, by mid-morning she was feeling better and headed into the streets with a group of other volunteers and began battle. The streets were filled with people playing music, marching in groups and of course throwing buckets of water and paint at each other.

Sábado por la mañana, Becca se levantó enfermera de la mala comida. Ya se descansó y con buena suerte se sintió un poco mejor a la mediodía. Ella con los voluntarios, entraron las calles para empezar la guerra de pintura. Las callas se llenaban con personas lanzado agua y pintura a otras personas. 

With a squirt gun full of blue paint water, Becca found herself engaged in full-on war with other volunteers and people she’d never met. In minutes she was covered in a rainbow of paint colors.

Con una pistola llena de agua y pintura, Becca estaba en una guerra grande. En pocos minutos ella estuvo cobrada con diferentes colores de pintura.

The battles went on for hours as they joined groups of locals and marched around town often being attacks by groups of kids or people throwing water from their windows. Becca sat a few times because she wasn’t feeling well only to be surrounded and covered again in paint. She really couldn’t help but laugh.

La guerra continuaron para horas y los voluntarios se marcharan y bailaron en las calles. Becca se sentó un rato para descansarse pero se atacaron un grupo de jóvenes y cobraron a ella de nuevo con pintura. Ella rió mucho. 

After nearly five hours, the volunteers were tired so they stopped to have lunch. Afterward Becca returned to her hostel and finally relaxed and took a long, much needed shower.

Después de cinco horas, se cansaron los voluntarios y salieron la guerra para almorzar. Por fin Becca regresa al hostal para descansar un rato y, por supuesto, bañarse.

Shift.

Long after a big change or an important event, the catalyst doesn't much seem to matter. Becca found that this was true in her Peace Corps service too.
It had been a difficult few months - the kind of time that tested not just patience and perseverance but that tested her very ideals and what her life was going to mean. This wasn't some Friday pop quiz. Becca considered walking away - just hopping on a plane and leaving it all behind but something nagged at her from the deepest corners of her being. Even in her worst moments, something had a hold on her, something propelled her forward.
Just when she was about to tell that feeling to shove it, everything changed. The world shifted. Some of it came from the outside, some of it from within, a perfectly imperfect exchange that finally put all of that fear, angry, confusion and frustration on a leash.
After the shift, she found that she didn't really want to think about the times before, she didn't want to talk them to death either. She remembered, she knew and anything more was in the past. This was a fresh start, this was something new and, damn it, she was ready to move forward.

Semana Santa in Ancash

As she sat in the combi on the way to capitol city Becca felt two things; 1) a rush of excitement that her very first vacation was finally starting and 2) a horrible need to urinate and an intense wish that the altitude medicine she’d started that morning didn’t double as a diuretic. 

After possibly the longest hour and a half she’d ever spent in a combi and a half speed walk/half jog to the bathroom in the post office while carrying two huge backpacks, Becca was finally on her way to meet Jane, who’d taken a bus from her site in Tumbes the previous night, have dinner and get on a bus to Trujillo.

They dined on giant burgers, soda and chocolate cake and waddled onto the bus feeling a little nauseous but mostly excited. The four hours to Trujillo were quiet. Becca stared out the big windows, watching the light fade from the earth as they traveled south out of Lambayeque and into La Libertad finally arriving at the capitol city there, Trujillo. Trujillo was touted as a beautiful but dangerous city, particularly at night, so Jane and Becca decided on a more expensive but safer taxi to take them to their connecting bus station across town. There they met up with Sophia, Alice and Geraldine and boarded their bus to Huaraz, Ancash, where a wonderful vacation from the heat, dust and work awaited them. 

It should be noted that during the seven hour, overnight bus ride, Becca had to buckle herself in tightly so she wouldn’t be thrown to the ground on their commute through the Andes, she awoke twice convinced that she had frostbite and at least five times certain they were about to plummet to their deaths over the edge of the some thousand foot cliff. Suffice it to say, her sleep was less than peaceful.

They arrived just after five in the morning and in the dark, cold early evening Becca promptly put on most of the clothing she’d packed and wondered when exactly she had lost her ability to cope with the cold.

“So does anyone know the phone number of the hostel...?” Geraldine asked as they stood in the bus station looking as rumpled as they felt.

“Or the name of the hostel?” Sophia asked. They looked at each other and laughed at their complete inability to be grown ups.

After some creative finagling, checking in to their room, sleeping for a few hours, and eating breakfast, the girls met up with Becca’s site-mate, Lily, her brother, Chuck, and his girlfriend, Sue and headed out to explore the city of Huaraz.

They chatted with Chuck, Sue, and Lily about their adventures in the previous days, and then visited the archaeological museum which featured a beautiful garden of sculptures. Afterward they headed off the chancos, or hot springs, just outside of Huaraz. However, while they envisioned deep caves with natural hot springs, what they found was a long building surrounded by a fence with closet-like rooms that had been constructed. They also discovered that the cost was five soles per person to enter a room with a hot spring. Standing in the sprinkling rain and peering creepily into the fenced off area, they decided it might be more fun to walk the two miles back to town along the river. They were right.

Upon return to Huaraz, the group headed directly for a restaurant they’d discussed and chosen on the way. They navigated through the crowded, damp streets in one mass group until Sue came to an abrupt stop and stared into a restaurant.

“It’s the crepe place,” she said and turned to the confused group.

“Oh yeah we’ve heard about this place, apparently they’re amazing but rarely open,” Chuck explained.

“You kind of have to go when you happen to stubble upon it,” Sue added. The group looked at each other for a moment but it didn’t take much to sway an already hungry group standing outside in the rain. That night they dined on delicious crepes and creamy soups of epic proportions, happy to have stumbled upon such a little blessing by chance.

Later in the evening, they realized not everything would be so easy. Planning a trip out to a glacier required a tour agency and some serious bargaining skills. The groups split into two. Becca, Lily, and Sophia tried to talk one company down and they felt pretty good their price. That was until Alice walked in touting a better offer for fifteen soles less, the girl had serious skills. After what felt like days of bargaining and making reservations, they had their plans, their tickets, and a wake up call for five.

Cold, tired, and quiet they convened in the hallway of the hostel the next morning and went out on a search for coffee and breakfast. Only when they’d found at least one cup of coffee per person and adequate breakfast foods did they make their way to the tour bus which drove them hours through the stunning scenery of Ancash. Finally they reached the end of the road. Some decided to take horses part of the way, while Becca, Lily, Geraldine, Chuck and Sue began the forty minute hike to the glacier. At 16,000 feet, it was a rough one, but the group took it slow and eventually reached the huge glacier. 

A day of pictures, amazing natural sights and hiking behind her, Becca and the group headed off to a pub in Huaraz where they sat bundled up, playing cards and drinking delicious home brewed beers. 

The following day, the group awoke early again, acquired coffee and breakfast and then took a car to Llanganuco, a glacial runoff lake that changes colors depending on the temperature and time of day. They sat by the lake for a while, soaking in the beauty of it and then hiked a couple of hours down through the forest all the while snapping photos and chit chatting about everything from skin diseases to YouTube. By the time they reached Huaraz that evening, they were all hungry, cold and exhausted and so ended another night in a cafe with good food, good beer, and good conversation. 

The last day of the trip was Easter and involved a lot of processions and services in and around the city center. After saying goodbye to Chuck and Sue who were returning to the US, the group decided to relax for the day. Becca wandered around Huaraz for a while, bought some local cheese for her host family and purse for herself, and then hung out with some volunteers from the region and ate home made carrot cake with them.  On the way back to the hostel, Becca, Sophia and Alice stubbled across a party in the street. Alice and Becca were invited to dance huayno and both accepted while Sophia filmed. Neither could have looked any sillier, but everyone told them they would get it eventually.

Unfortunately, the relaxed tone of the day was obliterated when the group reached the bus station that evening to board their night bus home. All of the buses were running late and there were so many people crammed in to the tiny station that Becca had to shove through just to get her bags checked and herself on the bus. Finally though, they all made it on. When they reached Trujillo, Becca and Lily said goodbye to the other volunteers and boarded their bus back to their site, hardly believing the wonderful week of vacation was over.

C-O-F-F-E-E: That Spells Love

It was a glorious day when Becca discovered that coffee in cold water is just as good as coffee in hot water, better when it's hot.

Four cups later it was all a different story....

Un-Posed Facebook Statuses

Becca didn't regularly update facebook anymore and statuses were generally a thing of the past. This was largely because of her lack of consistent internet but as she considered the statuses that had run through her head as possibilities, she thought perhaps internet wasn't the only reason...

What's on Your Mind, Becca?

If you're not sweating, I'm mad at you

If you're cold, I'm mad at you

If you don't have sand in your teeth, I'm mad at you

If you aren't eating rice, I'm mad at you

If you understand everything people around you say, I'm mad at you

If you don't wake up with confusing bug bites, I'm mad at you

If you're a rooster and don't know that 11 pm is not sunrise, I'm mad at you

If you're a donkey, I'm mad at you

If you sleep under a blanket, I'm mad at you

If you're a pig...I'm so so sorry....

It had been a rough month...

Oh no, Chancho!

        

    Something was making the worse noise Becca had possibly ever heard, something loud. Something was screaming in horrible bursts of terror.

            These were Becca’s first thoughts as she awoke on that Friday morning. As she swam into consciousness she recognized the sound; one of the pigs was pissed. Wait, no, not pissed, scared. She checked her watch, 6:03 am, too early for scared pigs. She rolled over and tried to ignore the sound but the pig just got louder and louder until Becca was certain it was actually inside her room.

            And then the sounds swiftly changed; screaming, screaming, gurgling, gurgling, nothing. Her early morning world was silent again but she found herself laying wide eyed on her bed unable to drift back into peaceful slumber.

On a completely unrelated note...

            Chancho* was served late that night at her Aunt’s birthday party, Becca could only stare at it in the bowl blankly. Luckily, the night was mostly consumed with dancing, drinking and making faces at her niece, Grace. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

            Like most really important events, Becca was informed during lunch that there was going to be a party that evening and she had to attend. That night, her sister grabbed her arm and pulled her outside without explanation. When they reached the door of her aunt’s house, Mireli whispered excitedly,

            “Mariachi,” she pointed down the street and sure enough a Mariachi band was walking toward them; two guitars, two trumpets, and a female singer all dressed in black and gold. As they started playing their first song, Becca found herself grinning wildly. Somehow, this music that she’d at least heard a few times in her life, felt so good, felt so...familiar. She laughed softly to herself at the fact that Mexican music felt like home.

            They played for an hour and then the food was served. Becca avoided dinner by playing with her niece who bounced back and forth between being her best friend and crying when she got too close. This was a typical dance they did. When Grace’s love ran out, Becca’s aunt insisted that they drink whiskey and jonki in celebration of her birthday; a proposal no one could say no to. After some imbibing, Becca’s Uncle Alex asked her to dance, and then another uncle, and then her aunt, and then another aunt until she finally had to sneak away and find a seat.

            One of her cousins offered her beer and feeling just fine, she drank a glass. At this, Becca’s host mom who had been watching decided it was time to go and pulled her outside.

            “I’m worried about you, hijita, that was a lot of beer, you should go sleep now,” she said. Becca looked at her watch; 11 pm and she’d danced, drank, and said her thank yous and happy birthdays. She smiled, hugged her mom and went upstairs. It was hours before the music stopped and at least three episodes of How I Met Your Mother before Becca slept but the next morning, she found that she wasn’t woken until eight.

*Pig

(Pictures: aunts and cousins. the famous sobrina Grace, mariachi!)

New Years (or: doll burning 101)

Becca’s New Years was...well, it was weird. Much in the same manner as Christmas Eve, Becca waited around most of the evening while everyone drifted in and out of sleep (including her). By 11, she’d had it and went off to the park where there was some kind of show.

When she arrived, Lily and some of their local friends were waiting, she greeted them all.

“You didn’t miss much, I can’t understand the woman at all and they just made fun of me for being the only gringa in the crowd. Welcome to the party!” Lily said with a big fake smile.

Becca looked to the stage and saw a man and woman dancing and drinking beer, however she quickly realized the woman was in fact a man in a dress and wig. He was indeed talking in a voice that Becca couldn’t understand at all. Feeling a little confused, Becca turned to their friend Karina who quickly explained.

“El es el año viejo y a las doce el va a morir por que el año viejo ha terminado,” she said. (He is the old year and at midnight he’s going to die because the old year has ended.)

“Y ella?” Becca asked. (And her?)

“Su esposa, estan hablando que ella esta ebarazada pero es una broma,” Karina said. (His wife, they’re saying that she’s pregnant, but it’s a joke).

“Por que?” (Why?)

Karina shrugged and laughed a little before turning back to the show. The “couple” danced around a few more times.

“They said that the old man was going to run away with me because I’m a gringa,” Lily added.

“Well of course,” Becca agreed. 

“Hola Rebecca!” startled, Becca turned to see her thirteen year old cousin, Alex grinning at her.

“Hola, que haces aqui?” she grinned back. (What’re you doing here?)

He didn’t answer, instead put his hand in his pocket and, his grin extending even further than she thought possible, he pulled it out showing her a hand full of small fireworks. He tossed one toward the stage and it went off with a loud crack startling several people. He grinned again and waved a quick wave,

“Chao,” he said and ran off.

Just before midnight, they all parted ways and headed home, agreeing to meet up later at the concert in the park. When Becca arrived home, her mom was passing out grapes, to be eaten for good luck, her dad was finishing dressing up the life-sized doll he had made for the family, and her sisters were preparing the silly string and spray snow. And as the clock struck 12 (or the cell phone blinked 12 as the case may be), the grapes were eaten, the doll was set aflame in the street, and silly string and fake snow flew through the air.

“Feliz Año,” he sister said and hugged her tightly. She was followed by Becca’s other sister, her brother, her mom, her dad, her aunt, her uncle, her cousin, her other cousin, her neighbors...and so on.

Becca gazed down the street, now littered with color and burning dolls and wondered just what the year might bring her.

Stirring

Becca felt a stirring inside her, something was happening in there. For the first time in a long time though, this stirring did not trigger a call to the Peace Corps doctors or a sprinting sort of dance to the latrine. This was different, this wasn’t an illness but a slow cure. Things were changing.

This was after all, part of why she had joined the Peace Corps, why she had left behind family, friends, opportunities, and running water to live in the desert and misunderstand 75% of what is said. It wasn’t all of it, but change was a part of the reason. She wanted a growing up experience, a lesson in humbleness, a chance to appreciate the smallest things (like a loving hug from her two year old niece who mostly just screams, cries, and hits people - usually Becca). It was all well and good, the growing and the changing, except for one thing. She’d somehow forgotten that change is no easy process; that all of those gears and cranks inside her, constantly shifting around and transforming was going to hurt a little. It simply couldn’t be avoided.

She’d been told a million times that this experience wouldn’t always be fun, and in fact sometimes it would seem downright unbearable. There would be times when she sat in her room and cried, feeling like she simply wouldn’t survive two years of it and times when she would be frustrated, angry, and exhausted to a point of near madness. But every last bit of it, every second of pain, tears, excitement, happiness, hope, and change was important. Important in ways she understood and a lot more she didn’t yet, but eventually would.

For now, Becca sat back and tried to keep in mind that two years was a long time, plenty of time to let the gear grind until she came out the other side.

La Navidad: Not a Popular Holiday Amongst Pigs

            When Becca told people in the states before her departure about her impending adventure, the topic of the holidays always seemed to come up. The holidays are going to be really hard. When she met people in Cruz del Medano and the surrounding area, the topic came up again. You’re here for two years, but are you spending Christmas here? What about your family?

            For as long as she could remember, Christmas had been Becca’s favorite holiday. Surrendering to her least favorites like Thanksgiving and even to the more beloved like Fourth of July and President’s Day, even to her own birthday, Christmas was in short, the bomb. When she was a little kid, she adored the candle-light singing at church on Christmas eve, spending time with her family, opening presents, and sitting around all day on Christmas doing a whole lot of nothing. In high school, every day from December first to the end of school, she wrote out cheerful notes to her closest friends and included little treats and presents. In college, she braved the icy mountain passes year after year to make it home for singing, present, and more than anything else, her family. But this year, Christmas was very different.

            Noche Buena (Christmas Eve), which was always the more celebrated of the two days in her family, started decently. She woke up feeling well for the first time in a week, at least well enough to shower. Of course then she got stung by a bee. Luckily after that came breakfast with her  host family and helping to make the final Paneton.* As the afternoon wore in she became increasingly less sure of the day’s plan and purpose and got different answers from everyone. But evening she returned to her home to find her family milling in and out of the kitchen to the front of the house. Making a crucial error in stopping where some of them had crowded by the oven, she found the chanchito* she thought was missing from the back yard, though she didn’t at first recognize it without fur or skin...

            The evening brought a lot of...well, waiting around and confusion. Around eight they had a small dinner, around nine Becca’s sister, Sandra, and her dad fell asleep, around ten, she found herself in the living room watching the news while her family either slept or ran around with cousin. At eleven, her sister Mireli and her cousins brought her to a misa (mass) in the church by the park. The service was a little confusing but she was happy to spend time with her family and see a lot of her friends from the community.

            After the mass they walked home and found a house of sleeping family members, which they promptly woke up because it was officially midnight and la navidad! Confusion struck again as Mireli grabbed three baby figurines and led Becca into the front room to be the Madrina. She quickly learned that this meant placing each baby on each level of the nativity scene. Her father prayed afterward, dedicating the moment to their newest family member and they all clapped.

            Fifteen minutes later they had moved the table outside near the giant Christmas tree, filled it with food, and taken their places around it. The ate, the talked, they slept sitting upright at the table, Becca had her first taste of jonki* and then the kids (Becca included) went inside to take a few pictures. By three AM, Becca was relieved to hear Mireli say that she was going to bed and so was their mom, Becca took herself off to slumber as well.        

            Sitting in her bed the next morning at six, listening to the silent house around her, she couldn’t help but feel like something was entirely off. Usually by six, she was feeling guilty about being in bed while her mom cooked downstairs and her dad started making the bread. This guilt typically roused her by 6:30 (7 on a rough morning) but on Christmas Day, everyone slept until 9. They had a breakfast that included her mom downing another shot of jonki, which she lovingly rose in toast to Becca.

            The rest of the day was quiet, so quiet that Becca had to ask more than once what they were going to do today. Each time the reply was the same: it’s Christmas. In the afternoon she watched 17 Again with her sisters and sitemate, overjoyed that they found it funny and commented on just how guapo they think Zac Efron is. Evening brought dinner and a visit to a friend’s house and by 10 Becca found herself climbing the stairs up to bed once more, her first Peruvian Navidad behind her.

*See: Peruvian fruit cake, except everyone loves it...

*Baby pig

*Possibly some form of grain alcohol

Las Mayas!

On the morning of the end of the world, Becca awoke to a house without electricity, only she didn’t realize it. She awoke to a house without water, but didn’t realize that one either. It was well into breakfast before anyone mentioned these things. Her father told her matter-of-factly that both had been out since nine the previous night. Becca laughed at herself for failing to notice either resource was absent from the house as she spent the morning washing her clothes in buckets of stored water.

            Conversation the entire morning centered on the impending doom of the day, December 21, 2012. For weeks people had been asking her if she believed it and she always laughed. She thought of explaining the leap year argument but always opted for a joke instead which was typically well received. She wondered if things might be different if the prediction was Incan and not Mayan...though they probably wouldn’t be.

            At breakfast her host mom turned to her,

            “Rebecita, es el ultimo dia del mundo, no?” she asked. (Rebecita, it’s the last day of the world, no?). Becca turned to her without skipping a beat,

            “No, mami, solo es el electricidad, no te preoculpes,” she grinned and they all chuckled. (No, mom, it’s just the electricity, don’t worry).

            At the end of breakfast, Sandra, Becca’s sister, caught a serious case of the giggles and nearly spit her apple juice all over the entire family. This set the rest of them off except Becca’s host mom who looked at Sandra, straight faced and told them all that it was the last day of Sandra being sane if nothing else.

            The rest of the day, besides being hotter than the inside of a feverish cow, went along as usual. The power and water eventually returned. At the end of dinner, they all sat watching news coverage of what was now being called “the beginning of a new era” rather than the end of the world. Suddenly a loud crashing and banging started above their heads and they all turned to the ceiling.

            “Las Mayas!” Becca’s sister, Mireli cried in feigned terror and they all laughed.

            “Solo gallinas,” her other sister whispered seeing Becca’s confusion. Thank goodness chickens didn’t bring the end of the world and neither did the Mayans, two years cut short of this hilarity would be tragic.

Broken Bread

There are few things in the world worse than being sick, and not just kind of sick, but “actually concerned about having to confront the grim reaper about staying on the planet” sick. It was on a lovely, sunny Sunday afternoon that Becca was harshly reminded of this and learned of new things: one of those things in the world that’s worse is being that level of sick in a foreign country on an outing with your sisters and not being about to explain it to anyone effectively.

Saturday night ended with stomach cramps but Becca ignored them thinking they’d pass, Sunday brought worsening pain, headache, and eventually fever and complete deliriousness. And so she told the doctor over the phone what was happening and he prescribed her medicine which he said would make her nauseous but farther from death, though Becca wasn’t entirely sure what he said for certain because the human brain doesn’t do well over 102 degrees.

This was how Becca’s week began. On Sunday, her body broke.

And on Monday, her watch broke.

No Tengo Mama

Estefa had seemed down the night before as she tried to explain to Becca her plans for the following day. Becca understood that she needed to be home a little early for lunch because her mom was going somewhere. She thought she heard her say something about visiting her mother. And so she didn’t think much of it but made sure she was home a half hour early the next day.

“Hola hijita, quieres tu almuerzo?” she asked as Becca as she hugged her tightly.  (Hi term of endearment, do you want your lunch?). Without waiting for an answer she shooed her to the table and told her to sit. Second later she appeared with a large bowl of soup, a plate of rice and a smaller bowl of ceviche. Having gotten used to a work schedule that only allowed her to eat with her family a few days a week, Becca was used to eating a alone but was overjoyed when Estefa joined her. Until she saw the slightly deflated look on her mom’s face.

Estefa threw her a small smile but the sadness lurking just behind it pulled at Becca’s heart. She pointed toward the picture on the wall of Becca’s host grandmother and host grandfather, Estefa’s parents. Becca had never met them.

“Mis padres,” Estefa said. (My parents)

“Aw, si,” Becca nodded, not entirely sure what was going on, a feeling she often had. “Donde viven?” (Aw, yes. Where do they live?).

“No,” Estefa said, an interesting look of surprise dawning on her face. “Son muertos. Hoy dia es cumple de mi mama, muerta diez anos.” (No, they’re dead. Today is my mom’s birthday, she’s been dead 10 years). 

“Oh, lo siento,” Becca said, she was always unsure what to say in these situations, in Spanish it was even harder. (Oh, I’m sorry).

“Ya, ella es muerta, no tengo padres ahora, no tengo mama,” her throat caught on those last words and Becca saw the tears in her eyes. (She’s dead, I don’t have parents now, I don’t have a mother). She stood and excused herself, walking into the other room.

A moment later she returned, she downtrodden but looking a bit brighter. When she sat back down, Becca touched her hand and Estefa grabbed it, holding it for a few minutes.

“Gracias, hija,” she said and smiled something that looked a little less like sorrow. (Thanks, daughter). They sat together while they ate lunch and when they finished, they carried their dishes into the kitchen. When they set them down, Becca hugged her mom,

“Tu familia es bonita y tienes tres hijos biencarinosa y tienes una otra hija ahora,” Becca said. (Your family is beautiful/wonderful and you have three very loving kids, and you have another daughter now).

Estefa grinned and hugged her back in that wonderful tight, mom-hug sort of way. Becca had seen her mom struggle like this before, having lost her father, Becca;s grandpa, too soon. As she stood in the kitchen hugging her host mom, she thought of just how very similar completely different worlds could be sometimes, how very human.

What Am I Doing Here?

Sitting in the back room of the health post amongst the old exam tables, desks, and stacks of folders, Becca thought about her life decisions. Every morning she awoke with the same thought: wha, where am I? Oh Peru, right, ok. I need to brush my teeth. I live in Peru. Cool. It’s almost time for breakfast, I need to get downstairs. I live in Peru. What the hell did I do? Who decides to move to Peru? Two years.

But as she descended the stairs each morning or her new home, having changed into her scrub top, jeans, and hiking boots and was greeted by her host mom, Estefa, those wonderings began to evaporate. The questions weren’t answered so much as simply forgotten as she carried on living her life. 

“Hijita, toma tu leche,” he mom told her, handing her a large mug of fresh, warm milk that had been mixed with bananas. “Hace frio, necesitas tomar tu leche, no quieres un resfrio,” she said and she watched Becca down the drink. (*difficult to translate term of endearment,* drink your milk. It’s cold, you need to drink your milk, you don’t want a cold.)

Becca had considered explaining that it wasn’t all that cold and that she wouldn’t get sick from not drinking milk in the morning, but given that she’d gotten sick the day she arrived, on a day she hadn’t had milk in the morning, she decided not to argue. Host mother knows best.

She had a quick meal of bread, eggs, and “coffee” (Peruvians in the north like their coffee weak and sweet, Becca referred to it often as brown sugar-water) and then walked back to the kitchen and thanked her mom. 

“Voy a la posta pero voy a regresar a las doce y media para almuerzo,” she told her mom. (I’m going to the [health] post but I’m coming back at 12:30 for lunch.)

Her mom reached up and put an arm around her, hugging her close, “Ya, te quiero, mi hija, te quiero mucho,” she said. (Ya, I love you, my daughter, I love you a lot.)

As she rocked back and forth in an old wheelchair in the health post much later, waiting for her coworkers to arrive, she grinned. Who’s thoughts are rational when they first wake up? These two years were going to be good.

And There Was No Toilet, No Toilet

       Becca had received her assignment, visited her site, graduated from training and sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). Her site was Cruz del Medano in the district of Morrope, Lambayeque, had roughly 4000 people, her friend Lily was her site mate, and they were the first volunteers in the area. Her new host family included her host mom, Estefa, host dad, Francisco (more commonly known as Keiko), one brother, Anibal (19) and two sisters, Mireli and Sandra (18 and 15). Her host was a baker and made amazing empanadas, her mom helped and worked in the home, Anibal was weeks away from finishing a degree in Graphic Design, Mireli was set to start school to become a chef in March, and Sandra had another year of secondary. Even after only a few hours with them, Becca realized she’d gotten incredibly lucky again in the host family department and promptly thanked the host family gods for her continued good fortune.

Her house included a store in the front room where various items were sold along with the different types of bread her dad made. There was also a living room/dining room/office/Sandra’s room that was a general hang out area, a large curtained off room that served as a big closet and changing room for the entire family, and in the back of the house was her dad’s bakery. Outside, under a tin roof was the kitchen, an area for chickens, laundry drying, and chicha* making, and a small brick room that served as a bathroom when you had an empty bucket and a shower when you had a full bucket. Becca’s room was upstairs, the only room with a door. Her host parents and brother slept upstairs as well. 

As she painted her room a pretty pinkish color and hung up photos of family and friends, Becca thought about this commitment she’d made, this long term agreement she’d been so excited for, so willing to fight for, and she wondered if perhaps she had lost her mind. Two years was a long time.

Becca couldn’t really get her head around it and remembered a conversation she’d had with her best friend, Jaime, days before.

“Two years is not that long,” Jaime explained. 

“Jaime, there’s no toilet,” Becca replied.

“Ok, true, but I mean two years of service, two years of doing something great is going to fly by.”

“I guess, I mean it’s not like it’s twenty years, right?” Becca reasoned.

“Exactly,” Jaime paused for a second. “I don’t think I would ever sign up for something for twenty years, like that commitment is insane. Twenty years of something you’ve never done before, ridiculous.”

“Oh my gosh, seriously. Wait, isn’t that basically what marriage is?” Becca noted.

“Yeah, I never want to get married...” Jaime said, sounding suddenly terrified.

“But with marriage, you get a toilet...” Becca pointed out.

She laughed to herself as she reached to cover part of her ceiling in the last drops of paint, leaving a small chunk of the corner paint-less, oops. There was a soft knock at her door and she turned to see Mireli smiling at her,

“Bajamos?” she asked. (Want to go downstairs?)

“Si,” Becca answered and they wandered downstairs together chit-chatting. Two years without a toilet, but at least it wasn’t two years without a loving family, thank goodness.

*chicha is a drink common in Peru made from corn, there are different variations some of which are sweet and others fermented, these the PCVs had been warned extensively about as they are quite strong.

Despedidas

In the 10 weeks since she’d walked into their home, wide-eyed and practically unable to communicate, MamaGloria, Lucho, and Felipe had given Becca more than she could say. She couldn’t say that they’d even been strangers when she arrived. Perhaps it was their kindness or patience, maybe their eagerness to make her feel at home (or that one time that didn’t laugh too hard when she locked herself in the bathroom), but no, they had never been strangers. They’d been her family from the very beginning.

And so when the final week of training came and her visit to Lambayeque was finished, she was both excited to see her family again and dreading the following goodbyes. Her final week had also been changed around in order for more training time so she didn’t get to live with her family the last week.

On Wednesday, she visited them so that she could spend a little time with them and pack her things. Being gone for so long, the house felt strange, like maybe it wasn’t hers anymore. She greeted MamaGloria, had a quick chat and then went to her room to pack up her things. After about an hour, she returned to the living room where MamaGloria was ironing. They both smiled.

“Quieres cafe y un pansito Rebecita?” she asked. (Would you like coffee and bread, Rebecita?)

They sat for the remainder of her time there, just over three hours, and talked about everything they could think to talk about. As she felt the tears forming in her eyes, Becca reminded herself that she would see her family again. Though it wouldn’t be quite like this again.

Just after six, Lucho entered the dining room and told them that the taxi was out front. They helped her with her bags and MamaGloria packed her a bottle of water and an orange. She hugged both parents, who she’d see at the going away party the following day and then Felipe, who she had to say a real goodbye to. Her wished her luck and told her she’d do great. They took a few pictures and then she jumped in the cab, waving and trying not to cry. 

On Thursday, the group returned to their training center for a Dia de Accion de Gracias (Thanksgiving) lunch with the staff and then a Host Family party in the afternoon. The entire afternoon was a blur of kind words, good food, hilarious commentary, and awful goodbyes. Becca sat with her parents and they all laughed through a talent show and chatted to each other, trying to ignore the impending goodbye. 

In the end, it was pretty quick, hardly painless, but at least quick. Knowing they Lucho would be attending the Swearing In Ceremony the following day, she focused on saying goodbye to MamaGloria, a woman who had been a mom and a friend to her for almost two months. The woman who had packed her amazing decorated lunches, who had taught her how to properly hand wash her clothes, and who had taken the time every night to talk with her, help her with homework, and watch whatever was on discovery. 

MamaGloria hugged her, kissed her, and told her a lot of wonderful things. They both had tears in their eyes but smiles on their faces as Becca watched her host parents walk out of the center. In a lot of ways it was like ripping off a bandaid; it was quick, for one, but there was also a delay. There’s always that delay, that couple of seconds where you don’t yet feel the pain, just a strange kind of shock. 

On Friday, the entire Peru 20 group traveled to Lima with all of their luggage, checked in to two hostels, stored their bags, and went to the residence of the US Ambassador for the official swearing in ceremony. They entered in a line, greeting program directors, language facilitators, fellow volunteers, and finally took their seats in the front of a long room, closest to the podium. Becca turned around to inspect the audience and immediately found Lucho, sitting in his suit, hands folded. She caught his eye and they both smiled and waved.

The ceremony was a blur of recognitions, speeches, and good thoughts. Afterward, the group took photos with their program departments, and as a whole with the Ambassador. And after that their was time to talk, time to spend with family, time to say goodbye. Becca stood with Lucho for a long time, talking about little things, talking just to talk. Friends came by and said their goodbyes, everyone ate delicious, tiny foods served on big silver trays.

Becca felt a stroke of panic when host families started filing out, knowing it was time to say the last goodbye. She was thinking it was kind of silly, all of these goodbyes, knowing that they would see each other again in a few months when she came back for a few days of In-Service Training. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it would simply never be like this again, never so perfect. That thought mingled with the feeling that she didn’t really know how to say thank you to her perfect family. She had imagined that the language barrier would be her main issue, but it turned out to be a lack of words in any language. Sometimes the words don’t exist and there is no long speech to give to tell them thank you.

And so Becca hugged her host dad and he kissed her on the cheek. When they pulled back, they were both crying. 

“Gracias,” Lucho said and Becca peeped the same in reply. She had a feeling that was all that could really be said, as she watched him walk out the door.