Trujillo, Marinera, and More

At the end of January, Becca took a weekend and traveled to Trujillo, another costal city a few hours south. When she departed the hot, sticky bus and felt the fresh breeze on her skin, she felt the calm waves of vacation wash over here. Over the next two days, Becca and her friend Lisa saw the sites in and around trujillo, including the Plaza de Armas:

El fin de enero, Becca viajó a Trujillo, una cuidad bonita. Cuando salió el bus que estaba bien caloroso, ella se sentó la calma de vacaciones. En los próximos días, ella y su amigo, Lisa, miraban los sitios populares, como la plaza de armas:

The Temple of the Sun and Temple of the Moon:

La huaca del sol y huaca de la luna:

And the Marinera dancing competition that has been a tradition in Trujillo for decades.

Y la competencia de marinera que es una tradición bonita de Trujillo hace muchos años. 

Of course they also ate delicious food (pancakes, coffee, cake, ice cream, tacu tacu) and spent some download watching a movie (Frozen). It was a perfect weekend, save for being a little too short.

Por supuesto, ellas también comieron la comida rica (pancakes, cafe, tortas, helados, tacu tacu) y pasaban un tiempo mirando una película (Frozen). Fue un fin de semana perfecto pero demasiado chiquito. 

Chao for Now!

On the eve of her 25th birthday and her year anniversary in Peru, Becca was enjoying her community and hitting her stride. In the ever-shifting world of Peace Corps service though, of course something had to change and so Becca found out that her friend, coworker, and surrogate mother, Janeth was being transferred to a different health center, an hour and a half away. 

Upon hearing the news, Becca’s mind was swept back to the first day she met Janeth. It was the “Day of the Socio,” a day-long informational session where recently arrived volunteers in met their new host families and coworkers. Janeth bustled in dressed in her obstetrician’s uniform, quickly ended a call on her cellphone and plopped down next to Becca. She turned to Becca and smiled a warm, welcoming grin and said something. Of course at this point in her language learning Becca couldn’t follow normal conversation speeds and needed things repeated at least three times for any sort of comprehension, at best she understood tonal inflections much like a dog would. Becca grinned back and nodded, certain she was missing something important.

The first three months were all meetings, house visits, educational sessions, illness, integration, parties and...confusion. For those months Becca lived in a haze of sickness and misunderstandings, but with the help of a good site-mate, Lily, and a very patient and motivated Janeth, she made it through. In the months since Becca’s Spanish had improved along with her cultural understanding and she found herself much more independent.

In these months Becca found in Janeth not just a driven coworker who was willing to attend countless meetings, help with sessions, and generally offer any support she could, but a friend. Janeth had welcomed Becca into her home and accepted her as part of her family. She jokingly called Becca her daughter and looked after her as one, making sure she always had enough to eat. Becca was sad to hear of Janeth’s impending departure and a few days later she found herself sitting at her desk, planning for future projects and wondering what was going to happen now. She picked up her phone and quickly sent Janeth a text:

Becca: Tomorrow can we meet up and plan for when you abandon me? :)

Janeth: Of course, hija. And you won’t be free of me that easily, you’ll see

Becca: We shall see, Mamá

She smiled and put down her phone, indeed they would see.

Días antes de su cumpleaños de 25 y el aniversario de un año en el Perú, Becca estaba disfrutando su comunidad y empezando a sentir como una peruana. Pero en la vida de Cuerpo de Paz, las cosas siempre cambian rápidas. Este día, Becca aprendí que su socia, amiga, y madre adoptiva, Janeth, se mudará para trabajar en un centro de salud de una hora y media de distancia. 

Cuando escuchaba la notica, Becca recordaba el día cuando conocí a Janeth. Fue el “Día del Socio” un evento informacional en donde los voluntarios nuevos de la región conocen sus familias anfitrionas y socios. Janeth entraba el cuarto en su uniforme de obstetra, terminaba una conversación por celular y se sentó acerca de Becca. Ella miraba a Becca con una gran, calurosa sonrisa y decía algo. Pero en este tiempo Becca no podría entender conversaciones a velocidad normal y necesitaba escuchar las palabras por lo menos tres veces. En casos mas buenos, ella entendía solo los tonos, como un perro. Por eso, Becca respondía con una sonrisa y asentía con la cabeza. 

Los primeros tres meses fueron puros reuniones, visitas domiciliarias, sesiones educativas, enfermedades, fiestas, y...confusión. En esos meses, Becca vivía en un nube de enfermedades y malentendidos. Pero, con la ayuda de unn buena compañera de sitio, Lidia, y una socia muy paciente y trabajadora, Janeth, Becca sobrevivió. En los meses después, su castellano mejoró,  entendió mas de cultura, y estaba mas independiente. 

En estos meses, Becca encontró no solo una socia en Janeth, pero también una amiga buena. Janeth dio una bienvenida de su casa y su familia a Becca. Le llamó su hija como broma, pero en realidad ella le cuidó Becca como su hija con comida y cariño. Becca estaba triste para aprender sobre la notica de Janeth.

Días después, Becca estaba sentado a la mesa, planeado proyectos futuros y pensando “¿como va a pasar todo ahora?” Ella le envió una mensaje de text a Janeth:

Becca: ¿Podemos reunir mañana para planear para cuando me abandonas? :)

Janeth: Hum. Para nada hija, no te libraras de mi facilmente. Ya lo veras

Becca: Vamos a ver, mamá

Con sonrisa, ella guardó su celular, lo verán.

A Bit About Peru: Parties

In an email to a friend in the states, Becca realized she needed to explain a couple of things about her life in Peru and so began a series of informative pieces about Becca’s life in Peru.

She wrote:

A Bit About Peru: Parties

From what I gather, there are two primary types of parties, the first being a formal engagement to celebrate a community-wide event or holiday, and the second to celebrate a more personal event like a birthday, funeral, or marriage.

The Stages of a Typical Formal Party in Cruz del Medano:

1.  Everyone gathers in the party area but nothing really happens until 30-60 minutes after the official start time. Note that gathering means there is a decorated tent with chairs arranged in a U-shape in the front for the "VIPs" such as the mayor, heads of various offices, police, teachers, and other authorities. Everyone else gathers in a crowd facing the VIP section.

2.   When the party starts there is an announcer on a huge sound system (we're talking 30-40 speakers) who announces the event, the purpose, all of the VIPs and profusely thanks God and all the saints for everything under the sun. Often there's a short prayer.

3.   Singing of the National anthem.

4.   At a minimum 5 people make long speeches thanking God and all the saints.

5.   The speaker makes another long speech thanking God and all the saints as drinks are passed out and there's a toast

6.   Food is served first to the VIPs and then to everyone else. Everyone who receives food is expected to dig in but it is acceptable to bring a bag and take your food home with you.

7.   Beer bottles are handed out and drinking circles* begin. Then comes the other alcohol drinks; chicha (fermented corn drink) and sometimes pisco, whiskey, and jonki (grain alcohol). Everyone drinks. [At this point and after, it's acceptable to duck out and go home]

8.   Dancing and a general good time

Note that the whole process if you stay for 1-2 dances takes about 2-3 hours but can last for days.

A typical non-formal party will include many similar aspects but in a less formal manner (shocker):

The Stages of a Typical Non-Formal Party in Cruz del Medano:

1.  Everyone gathers in the party area (a large, decorated tent set up in the street in front of the house) and things slowly get started. Rather than a VIP section, there is usually a table for the person being celebrated and their family near a large table for decorations and the cakes that people take photos in front of.

2.  Sometimes there is an announcer or entertainer and sometimes there isn’t, either way there is a sound system equal in sheer force to that of a formal party.

3.  The music starts early but people usually don’t start dancing for quite a while, leaving a lot of time to sit around the outside of the tent and stare at each other.

4.  Food is served first to the family and close friends and then to everyone else. Everyone who receives food is expected to dig in but it is acceptable to bring a bag and take your food home with you.

5.  Beer bottles are handed out and drinking circles* begin. Sometimes there is also chicha, whiskey, or jonki. Everyone drinks.

6.   At a minimum the guest of honor and their family will make speeches thanking God and all the saints. At some parties there are speeches long into the night, at others there are very few.

7.   Dancing and a general good time

* Drinking Circle: A large bottle of beer is passed around a circle of typically 5-6 men, though women are sometimes included. There is one glass. The process is you pour yourself a glass, offer the bottle to the next person who accepts and holds it while you drink (chug) your glass which you then shake out and hand off to the bottle holder, they repeat the action. From what I can tell, drinking circles go on forever, I think there is a drinking circle from 1968 still happening on my street.

***This is clearly only the perspective of one volunteer in one area of Peru, Becca doesn’t claim to know everything, or even anything really...

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.

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.

The Crimes of Napoleon (Or How She Lost Her Underwear)

Becca had had some great excitements and challenges in the two weeks of continued training, Spanish interviews, chats with all of her bosses, and Field Based Training (or FBT) in Huancavelica. She’d learned in her language interview that her language level had improved two levels and she would only need to improve one more level in the following five weeks. During chats, she found out she as doing pretty well in health and was apparently one of the most prompt people in her group.

Field Based Training was a new monster, throwing mass food poisoning, motion sickness, cold, and 12,000 foot elevations at her. Huancavelica also crushed her dreams of her first hot shower in five weeks with a malfunctioning electric shower that only produced cold water and minor electrocution. However, Becca found herself talking to current volunteers in their various sites and getting more and more excited about her site and her two years of service once she got there. Oh, and she had quite an amazing view:

But through everything training had thrown at her in the past couple of weeks, both the fun and the frustrating, she had had one encounter that brought her to her knees. 

It had happened a couple of times before that morning, but was never this ridiculous. Napoleon, the four month old puppy in her house, had entered a “stealing things from people’s rooms and hiding them around the property” phase. He liked taking socks from Felipe’s room, and various sweaty clothes from Becca’s room. After a run, Becca had to be careful to put her clothes away and shut her door or her host mom would be handing her back her sports bra and shorts again.

On a breezy Sunday morning, after Becca had gone on a long hike with some friends and enjoyed a lunch of the most amazing ceviche she had ever tasted, she was ready for a long nap. Instead she started on a presentation due later that week, but was interrupted only a few minutes later by her host mom.

“Rebecita, discuple, su ropa interior es en el bano en una bolsita,” she said, looking a little concerned. (Rebecita, excuse me, your underwear is in the bathroom in a bag).

Becca looked at her with obvious confusion. After several minutes of confusion, MamaGloria was able to explain that Napoleon had stolen her underwear* and dragged them out to the driveway where Felipe had found them earlier that day. Becca’s host mom looked at her with worry but Becca burst out laughing and from where she stood, dropped to her knees on the couch with the giggles. Her host mom laughed as well while Napoleon stared at them, confused, through the glass door to the dining room.

*It should also be noted that while Becca’s underwear was a little too big to start with (due to last minute shopping), after five weeks of hand washing and no dryer, they had grown exponentially. The underwear in question were more like shorts really...giant, giant shorts...

It's Not Easy

Difficult is of the word that grown ups use to describe a situation or series of situations that are completely unbearable without having to use the word unbearable or seem weak. Becca had had a difficult week.

She wasn’t entirely sure what started it all or set it off and by the time she realized she had fallen into it, she didn’t really care. There was the health part, where she always felt behind. There was the time part, where she didn’t feel she ever had enough. There was the physical toll, the emotional toll, the slow deterioration of her sanity. And there was the language issue, the one where she didn’t speak it.

Perhaps it started when she started a week by getting locked in the bathroom. Or perhaps it was when she tripped and fell in the street, pulling a muscle and crushing her confidence.

After a relaxing Sunday including a hike in the hills with beautiful views, time to wash her clothes, and skype with her mom, Becca hoped she could simply begin the new week, start fresh and be positive. That worked for a few hours and then quickly fizzled and she found herself back at square one.

By Tuesday afternoon, she was frustrated, emotional, and feeling like a burden to every person she spoke too because she couldn’t seem to stop worrying and complaining. It was only fitting that she have an interview and performance check in with Narcisso, one of her supervisors, that day. 

At 2:17 pm, she entered Narcisso’s office, apologized for being a little late and sat down across the table from him. He went over her performance evaluation with her, which was overall pretty good. To her credit, Becca held it together pretty well even through the difficult parts of the conversation, that was, until Narcisso asked,

“Do you have anything else you want to talk about? How’s your language going?”

Becca looked at him, looked out the window, looked down at her hands and bit down hard on her tongue, desperately fighting the tears. “Umm,” she began, feeling angry at herself. It was then that the dam burst and she put a hand over her face. She wondered how long it would be before this stopped happening. Before she could stop biting holes in her tongue trying to fight back tears. Before she felt emotionally stable again. She guessed it might be two years...

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to pull herself together. “It’s language, I just always feel like I’m behind, like I can’t learn it,” she explained in a choked, hurt voice.

“No, no, no, it’s ok. Learning a language is really hard,” he paused for a moment and looked at her but Becca was certain she couldn’t speak without losing the little control she had. Thankfully, he continued, “When I first started studying English, I could read and write pretty well, but I was really scared to talk. It’s scary. But when I started working, I had to talk to people in English and talk on the phone sometimes...oh that was the worse part. I hated the phone. But I got better. I sounded stupid sometimes and didn’t understand and I still make a lot of mistakes, but I finally get rid of my fear. You’ll stop being scared and just start talking, because you’ll have to.”

Becca nodded, how she had forgotten that she was sitting across from some one who had done the exact same thing the other way around, she didn’t know.

“Everybody learns differently, some people learn the language slower, but they still learn it,” he added. Becca, having been in education for a few years now, was surprised that she was so quick to forget this fact. Sure, it applied to kids, to other people, but she couldn’t seem to cut herself any slack.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’ll get there,” Narcisso said, reading her mind. Now she found herself grinning. With that he looked at his watch, “well I think we’re out of minutes now, but I’m happy I got to talk to you,” he smiled.

Fifteen minutes later, Becca found herself faced with her presentation on breast feeding which she was expected to give entirely in Spanish. Confidence still askew but attitude improving quickly, she stepped to the front of her class (which consisted of four other students and Pilar) and began.

“Buenos tardes, me nombre es Rebecca y hoy vamos a aprender sobre de alimentacion de los ninos menor de seis meses,” she took a deep breath and began, feeling that old comfort of teaching set in. (Good afternoon, my name is Rebecca and today we’re going to learn about food for children under six months old.)

The feedback from her group and Pilar was helpful to her learning and overall positive which boosted her confidence in Spanish just enough. It was this tiny encouragement that pushed her forward. Well, in reality it was probably also the hilarious language blunders of her classmates which she learned about not long after class ended.

“Yesterday, when your host dad asked how I was, I told him I was married instead of saying I was tired,” Jane told her.

“I meant to tell Pilar I was hungry and told her I had a man instead...,” Amanda added.

“Oh! I also tried to ask a nun on the bus if she would like to sit and instead I said ‘would you like to feel?’” Jane continued.

Becca laughed recalling how many times she had failed to conjugate her verbs correctly and told her host mom she was going to win Yo Soy.* There was something here, something in this joking, something in these stupid mistakes that made her giggle and which might just save her the trouble of negativity. Or at least she hoped it would.

*Yo Soy is an impersonation show in Peru.

Tornillos (or, How She Got Locked in the Bathroom)

It was one of those splendid nights where Becca had finished her homework, studied her flash cards, talked with her host family, and was generally free to go to sleep by nine. While normally she would have stayed up to watch TV with her host mom, Becca decided that with the increasing number of volunteers getting sick, she would opt for more sleep.

And so she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Minutes later she tried the doorknob and realized she might be in trouble. She turned it to the right and the door unlocked but refused to open, the turned it left and still it wouldn’t budge. After several quick movements back and forth, she heard her host mom on the other side of the door,

“Rebecita, estas bien?” she asked. (Rebecita, are you ok?)

“Si, pero, la puerta...,” Becca replied. (Yes, but, the door...)

The response was something Becca didn’t quite catch followed by the presence of her host dad and brother, Felipe, on the other side of the door. They talked amongst themselves for several moments and then her mom spoke through the door,

“Rebecita?” (Rebecita.)

“Si?” (Yes?)

“Felipe va a subir de la ventana.” (Felipe is going to climb through the window). Becca glanced at the tiny window six feet up the wall that linked the bathroom and the master bedroom, unsure how anyone, even a small child, would fit through that window.

Suddenly, Felipe’s face appeared in the window,

“Hola, estas bien?” he asked. (Hi, are you ok?)

“Si, estoy bien...y tu?” she replied, unsure what else to say. (Yes, I’m ok...and you?). He grinned at her and then began to pull himself through the tiny window. After several moments of trying to squeeze through the exceptionally small window, he backed out and considered their options. Finally he held up his index finger and then disappeared.

Becca stood for a moment giggling to herself at the complete ridiculousness of the situation. The worst part of it all was that this was not her first rodeo; she’d been locked inside a bathroom twice before; once in Austria and once in Canada. This was shaping up to be a habit she didn’t appreciate. Before she could consider her deeply rooted issues with locks and bathrooms, probably due to some unspoken trauma in her childhood; Felipe’s head appeared in the window again. 

“Los tornillos,” he said. (The screws).

Becca stared at him blankly and then, considering context and logic, pointed to the doorknob and then herself. Felipe nodded. He then very slowly listed instructions which Becca later learned were how to successfully remove the doorknob from the inside of the bathroom. However, in that moment, all Becca heard was unfamiliar words with “tornillo” mixed in several times. It seemed that her brain was rejecting her second language entirely in favor of relying on pure panic instead. 

“...que?” Becca replied after he had finished his sentence and stared at her for a few moments. (...what?)

“Los tornillos,” he repeated slowly and with a calmness she appreciated more than she could say in any language. (The screws).

“Si! Los tornillos!” Becca replied with excitement. (Yes! The screws!)

Again Felipe rattled off instructions, using motions to illustrate his points and again, Becca missed all of it entirely. He stared at her blank expression for a moment, sighed, grinned and then spoke,

“Ok,” he said and disappeared again. (Ok.)

The situation was now quickly turning from funny to a little worrisome. Becca was  certain that she would eventually get out, but she was concerned about the damage her family was willing to do to their door in order to rescue her. As she listened to them speaking outside the door, so was fairly certain she heard the words “just break it.” On the heels of this thought, Felipe appeared again at the window.

“Hola, que tipo de tornillos?” he said very slowly, clearly dumbing down his words. (What kind of screws?) 

Becca looked at him for a moment, she had understood this time but didn’t know the words to respond.

“Estrellas?” he continued. (Stars?)

“Si! Si! Si! Estrellas!” Becca exclaimed. (Yes! Yes! Yes! Stars!). 

Felipe smiled and held out a Philips screwdriver which she quickly took and walked back toward the door. However, Becca quickly realized that she could not position the screwdriver in a way that allowed her access to the screws. This thing simply wasn’t made to be taken apart. 

She turned to Felipe and frowned. He frowned back.

“El...no se la palabra...puerta...no...no tiene...no esta...,” Becca began. (The...I don’t know the word...door...no...it doesn’t have...it isn’t...). She made large motions to show him what she meant. The following minutes were consumed by Becca’s hand motioned and Felipe’s instructions but in the end, neither understood the other; the broken door wasn’t the only barrier at hand. Eventually, Felipe disappeared again.

“Rebecita? Cuidado,” her host mom told her from the other side of the door. (Rebecita? Careful.) 

She quickly backed away from the door and a second later a series of loud bangs knocked the doorknob inward. Removing the doorknob took about thirty minutes, the entire process took at least an hour, but as Becca looked through the hole in the door at her family, she hardly cared about her dashed dreams of going to sleep early that night. 

Upon seeing her clearly distraught face, her family immediately stared to comfort her,

“No te preoculpes,” he host dad said. (Don’t worry).

“No hay problema,” her host mom added. (It’s not a problem).

Her family then spent the next several minutes patching up the door and telling her stories of all the other volunteers who had broken something. They ended with a story about Ruby, her host sister who was currently living in Chile and had broken the bathroom mirror during colegio. The stories didn’t make her feel any better, but the fact that they were telling them definitely did.

When everything was cleaned up and back in its place (except the doorknob of course) Becca went off to bed, moderately concerned about the now knob-less door, but mostly happy that she had a host family who could rescue her from any circumstance, even the most ridiculous.

An Outing

If New York was overwhelming to Becca, Lima was overwhelming’s big brother. Lima had 10 million plus people and even more cats in its parks. But there was something beautiful in every second of Becca’s Saturday there; it seemed that even in the honking cars and bustling sidewalks, there were kind faces, helpful people, and beautiful architecture.

Becca had always been a nerd for architecture and though she didn’t feel a huge spiritual connection to the churches, she could spend hours in them examining the fine details or each stone, each wooden balcony, each golden line of a statue’s face. Government buildings were much the same; whether it was a dictatorship or a democracy, she felt nothing but admiration for the beauty of the standing art in front of her.

Becca met her classmates on the steps of the Catedral de Lima as they all stared up at the craftsmanship of the carvings. Their teacher, Pilar, assembled the group of four students and began giving them instructions. As they listened, however, they were approached by several students from and English class who asked them several questions about themselves in order to practice their English. Aw how the table had turned...

After the quick interviews, Pilar led them through El Centro de Lima, taking pictures of the girls in front of various buildings with all four of their cameras. Though they thanked her numerous times, she always told them it was not a problem because it’s important that they have the classic Lima pictures. Finally, they made their way to La Casa de Gastronomica Peruana which was several rooms with informations about Peruvian food in various regions and it’s history. Here the group learned many new food related words and Pilar showed them her favorite dishes. In the biggest room, their was rubber replicas of various foods that they could pick up and ask questions about. Though by eleven thirty, the girl were mostly just feeling ready for lunch.

The group made its way next down a long road of various shops, stopping into one to look at “authentic Peruvian goods,” and knowing that they’d be charged a fee for authenticity in Lima, a huge tourist center. Eventually they came to the church of the lady of mercy which they all marveled at. The walls were lined with tons of gold accenting various scenes and wooden carving stood all the way to the high ceiling. Natural light flooded in through large domed ceiling windows, and rained down upon the heads of those that prayed there. 

After several pictures and even more “wow”s, the group found a taxi (after a lesson about taxi safety in Lima) and made their way to Mira Flores*.  Here they found more modern buildings, beautiful houses, and a Starbucks! And another Starbucks! And another...and another...However, they also found a beautiful park with a very helpful guard who directed them to the market.

They ate lunch with another group in the food section of the market, all trying new foods such as Arroz con Pato (Rice with Duck), Papa Relleno (Potato with this amazing meat stuff inside), Arroz con Mariscos (Rice with Seafood), Chicha Morado (delicious sweet drink) and many other things. By two, Becca was stuffed and ready for a nap. But, Pilar pushed on.

While many of the other teachers said goodbye to their students and ended their day, Pilar introduced the group to her husband and son and then piled them into her car to go to the beach.* She took them first to El Parque de Amor (The Park of Love) which held not only a giant statue of a kissing couple, but also outstanding views of the Pacific. Upon seeing the ocean, Becca felt a lot of things she hadn’t expected; first excitement and then anxiety and finally a pang of homesickness that it took her several minutes to shake. 

The group viewed the sea from hight above in the park and then drove down to the actual beach and watched surfers while they explored. Pilar pointed out various sites and animals, Becca noted how flat the crabs were when they sat on the rocks. By three-thirty, the girls were exhausted and Pilar took them to the collectivo* stop to get them a ride back to Chaclacayo. 

By four-thirty, the girls were back in Chaclacayo and headed toward their houses, the long day of excitement behind them. They were all ready for bed.

*It should be noted that Mira Flores is the name of the area, but in Spanish the name literally means “look at flowers.” Earlier in the day, when Becca’s friend, Jane, who was from a different language group, had asked her what her group would be doing in Lima, she’d replied that they were going to see some of the sights. Jane had told her that her group was going to look at flowers. This was quickly followed by the realization that Mira Flores was in fact the place they would be going and not the activity they’d be engaging in. Oh Jane...

*Pilar is awesome.

*A Colectivo is like a taxi but much cheaper and better suited for long distances. Unlike a taxi, the car for a certain destination must be full before the driver is allowed to leave, but if you have four people, they will leave right away and take you to a stop near your house. The cost of a regular taxi from Lima to Chaclacayo is 35-50 soles ($12-$18), the cost of a colectivo from Lima to Chaclacayo is 8 soles ($3). 

Un Dia Malo

Most emotional moments in Becca’s life could be blamed on three words: Are you ok? It seemed that whenever she was getting dow, whenever she was standing on the edge of a mental breakdown, someone would ask her that little question and she would lose it like there was some tear-coaxing magnet in the phrase. And so, when her Spanish teacher turned to her during class on a particularly difficult day and said,

“Rebecca, no habla mucho hoy? Por que? Estas Bien?” she was completely unable to hold it together. Stacked hours and days of constant language immersion, subject immersion and culture immersion will do that to a person.

First she shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t be able to speak, then, the unavoidable tears started to come and she shook her head. She didn’t cry in classes typically, but the Peace Corps was a different animal.

“Esta bien, en mi casa, tengo dias malos tambien, esta bien. Es dificil,” Claudia said and tried to move on.

“Becca, could you find that advil for me, my head is really hurting,” Amanda broke in and Becca nodded quickly, happy for the excuse for escape. Amanda followed her into her room and though Becca tried to search for the advil and ignore the issue at hand, Amanda refused to allow it.

“Come here,” she said and Becca obliged. Amanda hugged her tightly.

“I know,” she said. Becca nodded but she continued. “No, like I really know. I cried all of last night.” They stood like that for a long time, Becca feeling foolish but also relieved and Amanda without hesitation or judgement. Eventually, they broke apart and Amanda told her to look for the advil (which to be fair, Amanda really did need) and come out when she felt better, Becca couldn’t have thanked her enough for that.

The Night Before

‘Twas the night before Peace Corps when all through the house,

The computer was still clicking, especially the mouse.

The bags had been packed and set out with care,

In hopes that somehow she’d find room to spare.

The PCV was nestled all snug in her bed,

while nervous excitement danced in her head.

Hoping she remembered a tooth brush and slacks,

she trying to calculate Peruvian tax.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

she sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the front door she sprinted in haste,

but still with a worry she’d forgotten tooth paste...

The moon shone down on late summer’s lawn,

and as she stood there she uttered a yawn.

When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,

but a man dressed in Chacos and light camping gear.

With a worn wide brimmed hat and a polo of white,

A returned volunteer stood in the moonlight.

More rapid than eagles her service had come,

So of his experiences, he said he’d name some.

“First a plane from my hometown and onto DC,

then Pre-Service training to become a great PCV.

Language and other skills they taught in 10 weeks,

to fill up your brain and then check it for leaks.”

He was kind and patient, a vision of help,

She laughed when he’d spoken and gave a small yelp.

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

soon gave her to know she had nothing to dread.

He sprang from the yard, clicked up both his heels,

And away he flew, off to chase pro-deals.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he flew out of sight,

“Dude you’re gonna be fine, it’ll sure be all right.”