Staging, Travel, and Bienvenidos a Peru!

As she sat in the internet cafe telling her mom via Skype all about her last few days, Becca had a massive amount of trouble believing that she was in Peru. That she lived in Peru. That she was, in fact, now a part of a Peruvian family, granted she was the non Spanish speaking kid, but still a part.

Somehow it seemed entirely impossible that she had left her family with a tearful goodbye in the Spokane Airport on Wednesday, been in DC on Thursday, and then Peru on Friday. Wednesday's travel had been easy; baggage fees were waved, window seats were given, the taxi wasn't overly pricey and in the end so made it to her hotel room exhausted from travel.

On Thursday, Becca had coffee with a friend from high school she hadn't seen in several years. They talked for a couple of hours and then Becca walked her to work and went on to see the White House, the Reflecting Pool and the Lincoln Monument. By noon she was in a large meeting room doing paperwork, getting to know her fellow voluntarios and getting entirely overloaded with information. By Thursday night when she had to say goodbye to a boy she cared quite a bit for over the phone, Becca was exhausted emotionally and physically. Though she tried to reassure herself, tears couldn't be entirely dammed up that night.

Friday morning, Becca was up at five, in the lobby at 5:30, on the bus at 6, through boarding information and bag checking by 9, and in the terminal by 9:30. At 1:30, she was in Miami. At 9:10 pm, local time, she was in Lima, Peru. By midnight the bus had taken her to a retreat center about 90 minutes out of Lima and by 1 am, she was asleep.

Saturday contained a whirlwind of paperwork, introductions, questions, and Spanish. Spanish which Becca did not speak. At the end of the day, she went for a walk on the road with some new friends, talked with more new people, and then had a nice dinner and played cards - it was the perfect end to a very long day and she was feeling very good about her group.

Sunday morning, Becca and her training group moved to Chaclacayo, the home of the training center and where they would later meet their host families. After more information and introductions, they saw their host families walking into the grounds and braced for the most important introductions of all.

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.”