I´m Fat?

A person´s weight, especially a woman´s weight, is discussed here in Peru just like people talk about the weather. When you see some one you haven´t seen in a while, it´s always "Hi, how are you? You look fat". To Americans this is down right rude. But I´m getting used to it. Mostly because when people talk about my weight, they talk about how skinny I am. I don´t feel all that thin. My stature is so much bigger than most men in this country, so a lot of the time I feel large and mannish. The reason all the woman at my gym praise my figure is cause I flat tummy. For whatever reason, most Peruvian woman have pudgy tummies, even if the rest of them is thin. They have all kinds of crazy techniques for slimming down their midriffs. The main one is rubbing Icy Hot on their stomachs, wrapping in it in Saran Wrap and working out like that. Every day I get asked how I get my stomach flat and I tell them it´s genetics. I´d really like to give these women a class on how wrapping your stomach in plastic is not going to make you loose weight, but I don´t think any one would believe me.

I think some one was talking about my stomach in the locker room after class last night, cause when I walked out of the shower, my aerobics teacher said "yeah but she has cellulite on her thighs". I said "What?" very surprised because I´m not used to people talking about me like that and because I never thought I had cellulite on my thighs. Then she proceeded to lift up my towel, grab my thigh and show the women in the locker room what she meant. I knew what she was talking about. I have a layer of fat that I´ve had on my thighs since high school. Its not cellulite, and you can only see it if you squeeze my thigh and look hard. I´m not really sure why my aerobics teacher decided to expose me like this. To them, I guess this knd of behavior is normal. To me it was a bit rude and invasive and to other American women it might have been mortifying. Good thing I have a pretty good self image of myself or I might need therapy.

I did get up this morning and examine my thighs in my reflection of the window ( I don´t have a mirror). Reassuring myself that my thighs are just fine, I took a deep breath and thought, just another cultural experience in Peru.

It´s Raining Men

God bless Mother Nature, she´s a single woman too. Just as soon as I have proclaimed my nun status, I am taking it back. I had such an amazing night last night, it reminded me that even though boys don’t play a big part in my life right now, I haven’t completely written them off forever. Like almost all of the best nights, last night was a last minute, crazy idea. It all started so innocently.


I had spent two weeks at site and had planned to spend this weekend just as I spend every night at site. Sitting in my room, alone. But on Thursday, another member of my Peru 9 family made the announcement that he was heading back to the states. He was in Lima so I called him up and made plans to come in and have dinner with him on Friday night. I hadn’t showered that day and considered an attempt to make myself appear put together, but I decided against it. It was just going in for a few hours to have dinner with a PCV who didn´t care what I looked like, so why bother? Dinner was nice. We ate at Chili’s and it was the first time I ate at an American establishment since I arrived in Peru. I had a buffalo chicken salad with blue cheese and a beer. It was good, real good. I figured this meal would be the highlight of my week, and I was ready to call it a night and head back to site before it got too late . Then right before I was getting ready to leave Lillian called me. We had been playing phone tag all day and considering her invitation, I wished we had talked earlier so I could have prepared a bit more for what was about to happen.


She said there was a Halloween party at the US Marines house and asked if I wanted to go. This was 9 o’clock at night, I had no costume and I looked like hell. But it was a Halloween party. I was feeling a little bumbed out that I was gonna miss one of my party times of the year. Me and Stephanie liked dressing up so much when we were in college, we would go out wearing lederhosen and 80’s prom dresses to parties that weren’t even costume parties. Considering my love for dressing up, not having a costume was hardly a reason not to go. With little hesitation, I accepted the last minute invitation.

So we went to the store and bought sheets of colored plastic. Lillian went as an egg, sunny side up and I made a sexy but not distasteful devil costume. We arrived at the party around 11. It was like a genuine college frat party, only I had to show my passport at the door. It was an amazing house in one of the richest areas of Lima, but still had the good ´ol boy feel to it. The downstairs area, where the party was held, had pool, ping pong and foosball tables, leather couches, a bar, a DJ and a pool outside. And because it was a Marine house, it was full of American guys. The moment I walked in, I stopped dead in my tracks and took in the view. All my nun-like virtues went out the door. These weren’t just any guys, this was a party full of perfect genetic male specimens. Normally when I think of Marines, not the most attractive image comes to my mind. But this was different.This was an embassy party. Most of the guys weren’t actually marines. They worked for the embassy in the security and protection department and their jobs are a bit more glamorous than the average Marine.

These men were tall, built and gorgeous and that doesn’t begin to do them justice. Of course this is coming from a girl who has been deprived of attractive men for 5 months, so my sense of their magnificence is probably a bit askew. But even taking into account the fact that I´m grading on a curve, these guys were nothing less than beautiful. I compare being at this party to having eaten nothing but rice and potatoes for a month, and then going to an all you can eat meat buffet. Every once in a while, a girl just has to treat herself.

The party itself was really fun. We got drinks, danced and played pool and ping pong. I was feeling totally in my element, like I was back home at a party where cultural norms and risks about women drinking didn’t apply. Half way through the night I decided it was time to branch out and meet people other than the girls I came with. I saw the ambassador talking to a few very good looking guys so I dropped in on the conversation. The ambassador introduced me to two of the gentlemen who had recently traveled with him on his trip to the cocoa fields in the Jungle. After 5 minuets, the ambassadors wife was brining the tallest and most attractive of the men she knew to meet me. What made it even better is that these guys were dressed like gladiators, chip and dale dancers and other festive attire. I did do anything besides talk to and shake the hands these fine young gentlemen, but it was just enough to purk me up from my manless funk.

I wish I had taken my camera with me. But seeing as I had no idea I was going to Halloween party with the Ambassador and a ton of good looking American men, I’m just thankful I have the mental pictures. Hopefully these immages will be enough to keep me smiling through another 5 months of manless drought.

Nun Sense

As I´ve said before, I work with nuns. It´s a pretty interesting experience. One which, I know later life I will make many a reference to the time I spent with the nuns. I can now say a nun has made me cry, which is a pretty big feet considering I am not catholic and never went to private school. She didn´t exactly make me cry, she was just pushing a subject I´d rather not have talked about and in doing so touched a nerve and I cried. I never ever thought I would be in a position in life where I would be working so closely with nuns. We are so different in so many ways, but we seem to get along. They have been very kind and understanding when I´ve had hard days, and I do my best not to do anything offensive. They are perfectionists and worry about things and put in painstaking hours on things I personally deem irrelevant. And I´m not even talking about religion. For example, they meticulously cover every one of the notebooks in plastic. This activity might take me an hour and the plastic won´t be cut completely strait cause to me it doesn´t matter, and the kids are going to destroy the notebook in 2 days time anyways. But the nuns will spend an entire day covering 10 notebooks in plastic. If one tiny detail is wrong they will start over.

Even though we are very different, I am starting to feel a bit like a nun myself. But again, not in the religious sense. One of the vows a nun takes, probably one of the better known ones, is a vow of celibacy. Since arriving in Peru, the idea of boys hasn´t merely been on the back burner, it´s been taken off the stove completely. And its not a conscious decision. I was feeling a little crazy, like there was something wrong with me. It seemed like all anybody wanted to talk about in training was boys and who was gonna hook up with a fellow PCV and who was gonna end up dating a Peruvian. How is it I haven´t even noticed the opposite sex for 5 whole months? But then talking to a friend the other night, she expressed the same experience. She even related it to being like a nun. I figure I have been so busy to think about it thats all. Busy in the sense that I keep myself busy, but more in the sense that all my thought and emotions have been so busy trying to take in this whole Peace Corps experience and trying to stay happy and sane.

I really cant see myself dating a Peruvian. For one, I dont want to. I have no interest in dating while Im here. I also dont find Peruvian men attractive. Besides the fact that they are all shorter and smaller in stature than me, nothing physically is attractive to me. And as far as personality, Im sure some of them have just fine personalities. But they´ve been breed in a machismo society and I dont think I would be able to tolerate all of his mannerisms and all the other BS that comes along with being a man in this culture. Im not trying to dis Peruvian men in General. Many PCVs have wonderful Peruvian boyfriends and I wont say its something I would never happen. I just dont think its for me. So the next two years will be very interesting indeed, however nun-like they turn out to be.

Money and Religion

Sunday night I was reading an article in an old Newsweek called “The Pastor vs. The Atheist: Is God Real?”. Naturally it got me thinking about my own thoughts on the existence of god and half way through the article I decided I wanted the textbook definition of the word secular. So I opened up my laptop to use the dictionary and on the screen looking back at me was the statistics of my all free cell games staring back at me. Games play: 666 Games won:666 ( I cheat, Windows Vista makes that possible) Not only is it a bad sign that the devil number popped up at me in the middle of reading about the existence of God, but if he does is exist, he knows I cheat at free cell. That’s all I’m gonna say about that subject matter, anyone who knows me knows my religious beliefs are very personal and I don’t like to discuss them. Which, unfortunately in Peru is not at all respected. The big 3 taboos in the US: politics, religion and money, are usually the first things brought up when you meet somebody for the first time.

Just this morning, I spent an hour talking to my host sister and her husband about how much money I made back in the states and how much everything costs. It was a really interesting conversation actually, because I learned how much they make and it really floored me. The conversation started out innocently enough. They wanted to know how the work week in the US compared to the work week in Peru. I thought it was a compelling question cause I had just read something about Frances 35 hour work week and the French president argument to change it. I knew, but not everything had really clicked, as to what kind of conversation this was going to lead to. So, I told them the work week depended on the kind of job a person has and returned the same question to them. The standard work week in Peru, is 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. I knew this, but somehow managed to forget, or at least forget how it made me feel. I told them then that the average American only worked 40 hours a week. I don’t really like talking about how rich America is and all the benefits we reap from it, but I decided that this might be a good opportunity for them to see what other parts of the world or like and the possibilities of Peru’s growth.


I explained that with most jobs, people are paid extra for every hour they work over 40 hours. I told them how in the US, it is thought that working excessively decreases productivity and happiness, while increasing the risk of injury. I also explained how this is only true for legal citizens and how there is a population of millions of illegal workers who work under considerably less desirable conditions. And we talked about family member they had (all legal) working in the United States (apparently there is a big Peruvian population living in New Jersey) and what they heard working there was like for them. They both thought American jobs sounded a lot more appealing than Peruvian jobs in general.


Somehow the conversation progressed and they told me that they each made 2 soles an hour. 75 American cents, that’s it! After working a 12 hour day they only bring home 24 soles, or 8 dollars. I knew the family I lived with didn’t have a lot of money , but now I get it. All the chicken feet and never having toilet paper make sense now. I felt guilty when I told my host sister and her husband that one hour of minimum wage in California was how much they earned in a 12 hour day. But I also explained how the cost of living in California is incredibly high. I told them honestly how much stuff costs in the united states and while it makes us seem like millionaires, we worry about money just the same as they do. I showed them pictures on my house and the pool in the back yard. I told them that I have had my own car since I was 16 (I left out that I actually had two cars) and that every member of my family has their own car. I don’t think anyone in my whole community in Peru owns a car. These things that are so common place to us in the US are so unattainable to the people I live amongst.


It makes me feel bad that I cringe at the idea of taking a cold shower or eating cow stomach. My real family is not rich by standards in the US but we are so rich in comparison to the population of the world. My dad likes to play gold and my mom likes to go to plays. We take really nice family vacations to Hawaii, Newport Beach and Spain. To us, it seems like life wouldn’t be worth living with out these things. Even when I am at site, trying to integrate and live at the same level as my community, I can’t wait till I can go into Lima and have a Starbucks. Even though I am a “volunteer” and I don’t make much money, I’ve never felt richer in my life. I recently received a few packages in the mail from family friends. I got all sorts of things like work out clothes, USB memory stick, dental floss, expensive chocolate and rainbow chip cup cake mix(cup cake tins included). I thought about the cost of the content and the price it cost to ship them. I concluded that the total amount it cost to buy and ship three presents full of goodies was more than my host sister would make in an entire year. Going back to the beginning of this entry, if God does exist, he works in pretty strange ways.

Mom vs.Mom

At this moment in my life I have mothers. My real mother, of course back in the states, and my mother who´s house I live in in Peru. I never compared the two before, it just never occurred to me before. But then the other day I found out how old my host mother is. I was shocked to realize she is the exact same age as my real mom, and this got me thinking. Why was it I never thought about the two of them in the same category before? Besides the mountain of differences between the two, I think the big reason is that I always viewed my host mom in more of the grandmother category than a mother category. Most likely because she is a grandmother. She has 6 grandchildren right now and one more on the way. But that doesn´t exempt her from the child-rearing category though, because she has two teenage daughters. Get this, she a daughter and granddaughter that are the same age.

My host mom also acts a lot older than she is. She walks and talks like some one who is in her late 70´s. In comparison to my real mom who goes to the gym everyday, takes luxurious vacations with her girl friends, and in general has the vigour of a 25 year old still. Comparing these two women has become a really interesting cross-cultural examination in my head (sorry mom if you´ve been reduced to little more than research). My host mom doesn´t work. Everyday she makes a huge pot of food that feeds 10 people twice. She does this every single day. There are no days that she feels tired and orders chinese take out, or leaves the fam to fend for themselves. On top of cooking, cleaning and raising a gigantic family, she is the most actively involved woman in the community. I really look up to this woman for the years of thankless work she has done. My mom on the other hand, balanced working part time, raising 3 kids and managing the house hold. My mom put in a good 25 years doing this, but now that her youngest is off to college, she enjoying much more time for herself. I don't think my host mom will ever have time for herself until it is she that needs taking care of. I plan to develop this cross cultural examination further. Perhaps in a year or so I shall write a really interesting entry about what it means to be a mom in Peru vs US. Stay tuned.

Peru, Day 119

Monday morning I woke up with something so foul in my system, my body decided it needed to be ousted immediately. Operation purification was underway, blitzkrieg style. The only time I left my bed was when I needed to go to the bathroom, which was way more often than I would have liked. I even experienced a rite of passage all PCV’s must endure at least once during their service. I soiled myself. Now who wants to compare that with their bad case of the Mondays? Whatever it was that was disagreeing with my body so much has seemed to lost its battle to extrapolating all foreign substance from my system and 22 hours of sleep.

The bad thing is I think I did this to myself. I finally decided I was gonna take charge of my eating situation. I couldn’t take any more rice, potatoes and really weird animal parts. I went to the market and bought a good 20 soles worth of food. I came home and made a weeks supply of chicken breast, spinach and egg quiche and sweet potatoes. It must have been one of these three things that unleashed the demon in my system. Sadly, I don’t know which one and have to throw out all my food. Making it not only a waste of time, money and effort, but it also discourages me from cooking for myself. But the icing on the cake is that this morning I woke up feeling a bit better and decided I would try eating a piece of fruit I bought. Except when I went down stairs, all my fruit was gone. Not only do I not get to enjoy the food I have to throw away, but my family ate the 7 pieces of fruit I had bought for the week on the day I was sick.

Patience and flexibility are two of the most important qualities one can have at site, but the whole ordeal of being sick and having my family eat all my friut in one day was a bit much, I wanted to cry. I don’t think my body was hydrated enough to cry, luckily. Aside from all the bad news, there have been plenty of happy times as well. After my stay at the ambassadors house I resumed my workshops at the Hogars. I tough my first real self-esteem wor shop at the home for sexually abused girls and it went okay, I guess. I honestly don’t feel I’m ready have stepped right into this role. I wish was allowed more time to assimilate and even work on my language skills. I could have I’m sure, but the expectations are high and I didn’t want to let any one down. So I’m trying to step out of my prescribed roles and into areas where I feel more comfortable. I have officially joined a bogie boarding club and am going to start working with the NGO WAVES for development which gives surf boards to under privileged kids in Peru. I don’t want to get too ahead of myself here, but I think I may have found my niche.

I had a really nice weekend. All the business volunteers were in town for a fair at the embassy. I didn’t go to the fair cause I had spent the whole previous week in Lima and attended another fair with various business volunteers, but I did meet up with a handful of friends during the evening. I had planned to go back to the training center with the majority of the group for a party at one of our former hosts families. But instead I ended up spending the evening with Rachelle and Danielle at a friends apartment in Lima. Danielle’s friend’s parents were staying at her apartment as well, which was really cool. Even though we all live with families, there’s something about being with a mom and dad from your own country that really makes it feel familiar. We all watched a movie together at night and all had breakfast together in the morning. Then in the afternoon me and the girls took a long walk along the cliffs of lima. All the modern high rise buildings on one side, the beach and the pacific on the other. I felt so removed from my site, when really it’s only 25 miles away.

We had lunch with our old language professor and her sister. One of the big things that’s surprised me so far about my Peace Corps experience, is all the people I’ve met. I knew I would meet interesting people, but I assumed they would be Peruvians. While I’ve met a ballparks worth a Peruvians, the people who have impacted me the most have been people from the international community. And I love it.

This weekend was more like therapy than anything else. We talked a lot about our most recent friend to go home. It was a pretty serious situation, and it’s better that we were able to talk about it amongst our fellow PCV’s because the Peruvians that we’ve talked to about it didn’t seem to find the gravity of the situation, which only made us feel worse. We did some intense griping about what bothers us in our communities and in the Peruvian culture. It wasn’t so much complaining about petty things, but discussing really pressing matters like machismo and sexual harassment. Every female volunteer already has at least one story of how their security and their integrity have been jeopardized by the cultural norms of machismo.

At the end of the weekend, we weren´t looking forward to going back to site. After spending time in the world of modernity, of hot showers, of paved streets and of people with whom you feel at home, it’s hard to go back. We’re at that point in our service were it’s really tough. We’ve made it through 50 days at site. And while things have become more familiar they haven’t gotten any easier. Having two of my closest friends return back to the US doesn’t help either. But even on my worst days, I don’t think about going home. I think about home a lot, all my friends and my favorite places, but I don’t really have a desire to go home. I really like it hear. Yes, site is a struggle, but that’s what makes it worth it. I’ve been hear 119 days and everyday has been an adventure. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Reach out and Touch somebody

I know some of my friends have asked for my address. I´m having all my mail sent to the Peaced Corps headquarters cause I live so close and I feel it has a better chance of making it if it´s being sent to an American government organization. Here it is, feel free to send me anything you fancy. Spencer sent me the weekly mormon newsletter, so really, there is nothing I won´t gladly recieve.

Ali Fisher
Cuerpo de Paz
132Calle Via los Grandados
Santiage de Surco
Lima 33, Peru

My Suedo Vacation

Remember the pictures I posted of my site and my house? Keep those in mind as you are looking at these. Talk about going from one extreme to the other. This is the house I stayed at this past week. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced. Now I am back at site and I am not missing the things I thought I would. I thought I would miss the hot baths and showers, the amazing meals, which I do miss. But the thing that I never thought about when I was staying with the ambassador, was how easy life was. Back at site, every day is a battle. Nothing is easy, nothing works. You dont think about these kinds of things, unless things don't work. It was so nice to pick up the phone and have it work. It was nice to not have to rearrange my day to take care of something that didn't work out like it was supposed to the day before. I think a big lesson that became clear to me because of this stay, is that when you have money, everyday life is easier. Its not necessarily happier and that doesn't mean you don't have to work really really hard to maintain this style of life. It means that little things, the things you never stop to think about are taken care of.





So this is the back of the house. While I was staying here, I woke up for the first time to sun. Most of the days were gray though. It would have been nice if it were warm. I would have laid by the pool. My and my friend spent a lot of time in the house. We didn't go out too much. We sat in our room mostly, or in the TV room. We read, took baths and talked a lot. I also didn't realize how much I would miss the companionship when I got back to site. Because we spent so much time at the house, we really got to enjoy the simple luxuries. Relaxing in big chairs, reading in the library, watching TV in english and sleeping in beds that weren't so caved in in the middle you can feel the pieces of wood holding up the mattress.





The house was so elegant. But it was unlike the houses you see on Cribs. There were no plasma flat screen TVs or any sort of over the top luxury items. The house is not just a house. The whole downstairs is mainly for entertaining. The ambassador said he mainly lives upstairs and only goes downstairs to eat.





The whole house was filled with fresh flowers. The ambassadors wife insisted that they put tuberoses in every arrangement so the whole house was filled with its sweet sent. For those of you who have no idea what a tuberose is, or what it smells like, think about Hawaii. The air in Hawaii is so sweet because of the fragrant tropical flowers that grow all over the island. The tuberose is one of the flowers Im sure you've seen if you've ever travel there. It was cool to be in the middle of Lima, a big, cold and dirty city, but have it smell like Hawaii. I especially like the portrait of George Washington.

A Step Up

This week has been a bit abnormal, to say the least. For the past 4 nights I have been staying with the American ambassador in his house in Lima. This place is a far cry from my site in Lurin. It is a large, luxurious, house that feels more like one of the palaces I've toured in Europe than anything else. I am staying there because I have a friend who was invited to stay with him and his family and she didn't want to be alone so she called me up and here I am.

We both feel a bit out of place in this mansion. We don't really know what we're doing and giggle a lot about stupid things we have done. Next to the grand dining room, there is a smaller, more intimate dining area that looks out to the patio and the pool. The first morning we got up, went down stairs for breakfast and found the table cleared except for two place settings. It was 8:30 in the morning and the rest of the family was already off at work or school. We sat down and looked at each other not knowing what to do. "Should we go into the kitchen and tell the wait staff we're here?" my friend asked. Next to my plate, there was a small remote control with a single button on it. The button had a musical note and we looked at the wall to the speakers. "this must be the remote to turn on the music" I said, "maybe if we turn on the music they'll know we're here." My friend agreed it was a good idea, so I pushed the button. We heard a bell off in another room. Turns out, this was the bell we rang when we wanted service. With in a few seconds a butler hurried in and found us bright red and holding back embarrassed smiles. He asked us what we would like to drink and how we would like our eggs prepared and swept out of the room. When he left, we didn't know what else to do but laugh. We're Peace Corps volunteers, who just summoned a butler by remote control bell. It just didn't seem right, we felt so bad. The next three mornings we have gone into the kitchen to let them know we were there and we never intend to use the bell again.

The ambassador and his family are really great, apart from letting two very silly girls stay in their hose and disrupt their lives. I've greatly enjoyed listening to the ambassador talk about his views on Peru and his past work in Africa and Europe. I've been living in my little bubble at site, trying to make my tiny difference with a few kids and it has been really good for me to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. The reason I am here, the reason Peace Corps is here, is to help Peru become a developed country. Even though the ambassador has a much more celebrated and glamorous job than I, he too is trying to make a difference in this crazy world.

So me and my friend have really been trying to take it all in and enjoy this amazing experience. We even got to meet the ex-president Alejandro Toledo. But you know you're a peace corps volunteer when taking a hot bath actually trumps meeting an ex-president as the most exciting thing you did all week. I'll be staying with the ambassador for at least a few more nights and am trying not to do anything else embarrassing and enjoy this incredible opportunity.

More Birthdays and Goodbyes

My last title was Birthdays and goodbyes although I didnt really talk about either. Thats because I wrote all this stuff and it took me 20 minutes to upload 2 pictures and then it just stopped working. Here are a few more pictures Id like to share with you. This is in the evening of my birthday. We re sitting in Jockey Plaza, the mall thats right next to the PC headquarters in Lima. This is 5 minutes before I said goodbye to Adrienne. If any other Peru 9ers are reading this, dont leave! I cant say goodbye to anyone else. Adrienne leaving has made me really sad and I dont want to see anyone else go. Ive said a lot of goodbyes in this mall. It seems kind of an odd place to have so many emotional goodbyes, but to me, its just like doing it in an airport.

Jah is fat, Jake is harry and I havent gone to the bathroom in three days. I dont remember who insisted we take a picture of our stomachs, but I swear it wasnt me. This is how I spent my birthday night. Clowning around with Jake and Jah. We ended up going to show and bar. Nothing crazy, at least on my end.

This is my birthday celebration. All the kids put on a whole show for me. Im not sure why the boy on the right is dressed like spiderman.

Okay, so this picture is not of me or my site. I found it on Toms facebook page and I liked it a lot. I think its a great example of the way other PCVs live. This is tom, the guy I was dancing with on the youtube video. Hes up in Arequipa, which is way up in the Andes. Hes in front of his house washing his clothes by hand next to the faucet that is the only source of water for the house.

Arequipa is a new site. There are only a few volunteers there right now. Back in the 60s and 70s, peace coprs main focus was arequipa. I complain a lot about how cold Lima is. Yes, its true its gloomy and foggy all the time, but check out how cold Arequipa is. I especially like James poncho. There is a part of me that feels like Im not getting the real peace corps expereince, that Im not sacrificing or roughing it enough. I never imagined myself living so close to Lima, I always thought I would go up to the mountains. Once summer rolls around and I can soak in the sun at the beach, I dont think I will be complaining

Birthdays and Goodbyes

So I reread my last entry and realized how poorly written it was. Heres my excuse--I wrote it at the Hogar. The Hogar is mostly little boys. They have such a strict schedule and have hardly anytime to play. Not to mention they are boys, and they love gadgets and toys. So, anytime I am on the internet when the kids are there I have at least 5 little boys hanging all over me, moving the mouse and poking the screen relentlessly asking me what everything is. I ask them about a hundred times to give me some space and not touch anything and they do. But then 30 seconds late they start inching their way closer and with in a minute I can smell Ignacio bad breath heaving down on me. I dont know why they just stand there and watch me type in English, it seems so boring. They find it fun to scream out the words they recognize. The other day some of the words they recognized were Birthday and Lima. I couldnt really concentrate when I was writing my last entry and I didnt feel like taking the time to proof read. This picture may give you an idea of the chaos that ensues whenever I have a technological gadget. They LOVE when I bring the camera. But I try not to bring it cause all the kids grab at it and when they demand to look at the photos they all poke the screen and touch the buttons even though thats the one condition they promise not to do when they ask to see the photo. In this picture Im trying to get every to take a nice picture and smile. This is the best one I got. They were all going nuts in front of the camera...wait a minute, that all go nuts all the time.

This picture is my birthday lunch with my host family. It was a good experience, but I cant tell if it brought me closer to them or separated me further. Me and my host mom went to the market in the morning and bought all the stuff we needed. I bought everything. Some members of the family seem to embrace me, others seem to resent me for having more than they do. I guess thats to be expected, we are all human.

Oh yeah, the sun came out that day for the first time! It was still a bit chilly but I didnt care, I celebrated (note the short sleve shirt). The other white girls at the table are Bianca to my left and Antonia to my right. It was really nice to have them both there.