My Life at 6 Months

Today I celebrate 6 months at site. It`s really amazing to think how quickly the time has passed and how far I have come. My day to day life is no longer scary and strange but it is none the less challenging. Having recently moved from the campo house of Buena Vista into the small town of Lurìn my home life has drastically changed. I no longer spend every moment at home alone in my room, although spending time in my room is more enjoyable in new my new setting. I can only get to my room by entering through Viviana`s which has so far not been an inconvenience or annoying. Both our rooms needed a new paint, so the other week we went to the hardwear store to pick out our colors. Vivi asked me what colors I would like my room to be and I pointed out modest hues or green, blue, yellow and purple. I don´t know why she asked if she was just going to pick the colors she liked. She asked me what I thought of this certain color combination right off the bat. I hated it, but since it is her house I said it was fine and after an hour of looking at colors and vetoing all of my suggestions, we got a very bold Blue and Gold. This pasted weekend Vivi`s cousin came to paint out rooms. I now say I live in the UC Davis room. This is me in my freshly painted room in front of my mountain of stuff. After the paint dried I was able to do something I haven`t done since I arrived in Peru: buy furniture. Even during training my room was empty except for a bed. I have have literally been living out of my suitcases for 9 months. I didn`t realize how annoying it trully was until I had furnitute once again. Check out my new desk/bookshelf. Look at all the books and work material I have. I know it may not seem like a lot, but considering I only came to Peru with 2 suitcases, I have aquired so much. And in my old houses all this stuff was piled in stacks on the ground. Since I live in a dustbowl worthy of Steinbeck, these books needed a serious cleaning every month. Not to mention moving was a total pain with all this extra weight. At least when I go back to the states I can leave a good 90% of this stuff here.

This is the street that I live on. It`s full of street vendor which wouldn`t be too terrible if there weren`t two competing vendors on opposite corners right across from my house that sell pirated CD`s and therefore blast blast contrasting music all day and well into the night. To get to work I walk out of Lurin and through the country for a half hour to an hour depending on where I am going. This is my usual comuter traffic. Local farmers taking their goats out to graze. It can be really annoying when there is a huge bunch of them. Whenever some one tries to make fun of me for living in Lima and being a "Peace Corps Lite" volunteer, I just scoff. Sure, I don`t live too far outside the main city, but I put up with just as much stuff as people in the most rural of sites.

Today I took 10 kids to a pool at a local ranch with a volunteer from Spain. Taking a group to the pool is always a lot of work, but seeing as not a single one of the 10 kids knew how to swim, it was 10 times the effort. I was converted from a play pal and a life gaurd to full of water taxi. The hardest part about the day was not that the kids didn`t know how to swim, it was there mentality that they couldn`t learn how. The general Peruvian mentality is "I can`t". This is a complete contrast to the US mentality where we grow up with the little engine that could chugging "I think I can, I think I can" all through our childhood and well on into our adult life. We believe that we can acheive anything with the right mind set and hard work. This is one of the big reasons developing countries like Peru have such a hard time advancing their economic status. The average poor peruvian feels they are a victim of life and are helpless to improve their situation. This is the mentality we try to combat as Peace Corps volunteers. And what better place to teach a can-do attitude than in the pool. The older kids seemed already stuck in their ways of not knowing and not trying. So I focused on the youngest kids who`s minds have not been corupted with helpelessness and where still relatively fearless. It was a great example for the older kids when the 4 year old boy was jumping from the side of the pool into my arms. Now I just beed to carry the momentum of the tiny successes the kids had in the pool to everyday life.

I Want to Rock and Roll All Night

Part of living in another country is having to adapt to with the norms and fads that are different from your own. One defining characteristic of almost of any country is it´s music. I thought that Peru would listen to more of a Latin or even South American blend of music, much like Euro pop or something. But I was very surprised to find out that most Peruvians only listen to Peruvian Music. Sure, Shakira and Enrique get a decent amount of air time, but in general the average Peruvian only knows made in Peru.

This is supposed to be one of the fun parts of expereincing a new culture. And at first it was fun. Within the first week or two of training I could already recognize some of the popular songs and even begining to learn some of the words. Now, 8 months later, I know all the words to all the songs. And that was cool too, 5 months ago. I`m not sure if it`s because there is limited variation of music because Peru is not the largest country or if it`s because Peruvians flat out dislike things that are new, but he same 20 songs that were repeatedly played when I first arrived in country back in June are still being blasted on every radio station. I`m not insiuating that there have been 20 songs that have been so popular they are still topping the charts, I am saying that it`s that they don´t play any new music. It`s like being stuck in a time warp. Maybe it`s just a cultural difference. In the US the music industry is so competetive that every day 50 new songs and artists come out. The US pop scene may be easy to criticize for many reasons, but at least there is no lack of variety on the music scene.

I made this comment to a Peruvian friend who has spent time in the states and he got very defensive and told me it was the same way in the US as it is in Peru. He said that we play the same 20 songs over and over again. I agree with this statement but I am sure the same 20 songs that were being played in June 2007 are not the same 20 songs that are being played right now. Which makes me wonder, what the heck kind of music is popular right now back home?

My friends defensiveness over the the repetitive music in Peru stayed with me. I wondered it I was just being close minded or rejecting the music here because deep down I really missed the music from back home. But last night I confirmed that it is indeed the music, not me that has issues.

I went to a town celebration with Viviana last night. There was a big concert in the town statium with some really big name bands. There were thousands of people there and it was so exciting for because now that I live in Lurìn there is stuff like concerts and festivals to attend. We got there around midnight and the band that was playing was a hip rock and roll all male band. It was great, all the band members were cute and really loved their music. I couldn`t figure out why I hadn`t heard more of their music. Followed by the the rock band two different cumbia bands played. Cumbia is a type of latin. big band style of music with a full orchestra and several singers. These bands are also always all male. The last band to play is really famous in Peru. Of course really famous in Peru means they have the same number of followers at a good underground band in the states. But, this band sings 5 of the 20 songs that are played on the radio. This band started playing at 3 in the morning and were still going when we left at 5. After the first hour they had played all their popular songs which I new all the words to. Then I couldn´t believe it, instead of playing new stuff, they just played the same songs over again. And I seemed to be the only one bothered by this. How hard is it to fill two hours of different songs! But it just confirmed that Peruvians just like the music that they know.

The night was really fun, but like I said, we didn´t go home till 5 in the morning and it was a tuesday. Lucky for me I am vounteer and am able to control my schedule. I didn`t get up until noon today. But the group I went with all work at city hall and only got an hour of sleep. While in general, I classify Peruvians as having a monatenous taste in Music they can party like rock stars.

My New Digs

I`m settling in quite nicely into my new home and family. The house is much nicer than my previous and my family is exactly what I was looking for. I`ve traded in the compo for the for a house on the bussiest street in Lurìn with a window that opens right out onto the noise. Instead of baby roosters waking me at 4 in the morning I now have two booths set up on opposite corners selling pirated CD`s. They each blast contrasting music all day long so it is never quite in my room. But so far that is my only complaint. I can´t put into words how thrilled I am to have a bathROOM as opposed to the very non-private seatless toilet seperated from the kitchen by a flimsy shower curtain. My new toilet even flushes, except between 10 PM and 7 AM when the whole towns water supply is shut off. That also can be a little bothersom when it`s 11 at night and I need to wash my face. But it`s really not a big deal. We keep buckets of water all over the house to accomidate for the waterless hours.

My new family has been great so far. First of all, no kids. While the street outside the house is busy and noisy, inside the house is calm and quite. And the family doesn´t all pile in front of the television all hours of the day. They go out and do things and they even invite me along. And since I´m living in Lurìn, there is stuff to do. I went to my first community festival last week with Viviana and I finally felt like I was getting the Peruvian Community expereince. My host mom cooks more than just rice and potatoes. They all talk to me and we have interesting and stimulating conversation. So it seems that everything I wanted, I got. Plus, one totally awesome bonus is the house has cable television. I get to watch CNN in english instead of the mind dumbing programs they dare to call news programs on the Peruvian channels.

I`m hoping everything stays good and the transition period goes by quickly. I know there is no such thing as a perfect living situation but if anything it is an improvment over the last.

Friendship Day

In Peru, Valentine's Day is more commonly known as Friendship Day. This makes me quite happy. Not because I'm single, but because I dislike the "holiday". And whether you believe it or not, I don't dislike Valentine's Day because I am a disgruntled single. Quite the contrary, I actually prefer not being in a relationship on Valentines Day. I've had my share of wonderful boyfriends. Every year when February rolls around I tell them I don't want to celebrate it and I don't want any presents. Of course, non of them believe me and feel it is some sort or trick or test. The truth is, I don't need a holiday to show some one that I care about them. I especially don't like that Valentine's Day demands that one show love through material goods: flowers, jewelry, expensive dinners. And let's not forget balloons. Nothing says I love you like a bunch or helium inflated red latex. The expectations of Valentine's day are just as inflated and overpriced as the heart-shaped balloons. There is a direct corelation between money and love. According to Valentine's day law (written by See's, Teleflora, Morton's Steakhouse and Tiffany's) the more money you spend on a Valentine's Day gift, the more you love some one. It is this reason that I do not like Valentine's Day and genuinely mean it when I tthe man of the hour that I don't want any presents.

However, when I am out of a relationship, I'm rather fond of the day. "Single Awareness Day", as I've heard many a bitter single woman refer to it, is an awesome excuse to get together with all of your friends and have a party. And since Peru appropriately calls it Friendship Day, me and the girls did not waist the opportunity to do what we do best: get together and have a good time. I had originally planned with Candice, a very simple and relaxing evening. It would be a nice lite, homemade dinner followed by desert and champagne while watching Sex and the City (the single girl's bible on DVD). Some how my simple plans evolved over the weeks without me knowing. When the rest of the girls showed up they brought with them all sorts of red decorations, red devil horns,a pinata filled with all the escencial V-day goodies, alcohol, chocolate and of course red heart balloons.

We decided if we were going celebrate, we were going to do it right. So we got all dressed up and as we waited for the last of party to arrive, put together a whole air-band/lip sync performance to "The Summer of 69". So we danced and sang, ate and drank and went outside and beat the crap out of the pinata. It was a laid back, rockin party. It's the way Valentine's Day should be.
And as we settles down with a few episodes of Sex and the City, we celebrated not our singleness, but the love we had for ourselves. All of my friends in Lima are either volunteers or working for an NGO. We are all living in a foreign country and are doing something we are passionate about. We are independent and strong and do not need the crutch of a man. They say before you can be happy in a relationship, you have to be able to be happy alone. So yesterday, we celebrated being happy above all else. Being in Peru has been a challenge like no other and there have been many days and nights were I have felt sad, scared, alone and lost. So finally having found my way in life again and feeling like a stable, happy girl was my real reason to celebrate. I didn't need a day on a calender to reflect and express my emotions, but I never miss an opportunity for a great party!

Starting Over

Before I begin my starting over entry, I want to share with you just how clever my girls at the home are. I was giving my sexuality workshop today and we were going over the anatomy and physiology of the male and female reproductive organs. When we got to foreskin, the psychologist asked one of the girls to pay close attention because she has an 8 month old son and it is very important for her to know how to care for it. The psychologist also mencioned that certian cultures and religions have the foreskin removed for various reasons. The girls asked for an example and I told them that most jews have the foreskin removed in a religous ceremony when they are babies. One of the girls chimed in and said that Jesus was Jewish and then asked if Jesus had foreskin or not. The Psychologist and I just looked at each other and she finally said that that would be a great question for the head nun. But seriously, I´m really impressed that my girls are thinking critically. ¿Did Jesus have foreskin? Hopefully I won´t loose too much sleep thinking about this one.

Anyways, starting over.......

Starting over is a way of life. Wether it is by choice or circumstance, it is an unavoidable stage in life. We all start from scratch various times through out our lives in a million different ways. It can be by starting a new job, breaking off a relationship, the death of a loved one, moving, having a child or simply taking a new aerobics class at the gym. Some people self impose life changes regularly while others get into their little nitche in life and only start anew when forced to. Whatever the circumstance, starting over is hard.

I seem to fall under the self imposed catagory. Every year or so, I like to pack my bags and embark on a jounrey unlike those I have had to date. Peace Corps is about as extreem as one can get to starting over from scratch. I left all my friends and family, a relationship, my native language, my car and basically everything else I knew to live in a strange new place. And it was hard. Anytime some one starts over, you go from being secure and confident to not having a clue what you are doing. For me, there is notihng worse than not knowing what I am doing. Yet I keep doing to it to myself over and over again. I think I am some kind of a masecist.

Case and point: last night was my first night with my new host family. This is now my 5th host family. I don´t think it ever gets any easier. Even though I knew this family coming in, there is still the usual awkward "Hi, I live in your house now". I have to retrain a new host mohter to leave me alone and not treat me like I am 6 years old. At the base of it, I really hate living with a host family. I understand the benefits of living with one for a little while so one can better learn the language and culture, but making it maditory for 2 full years is a bit extreme.

So, I´m in my new house now and it´s good, but I couldn´t help but wonder as I was laying in bed last night, why i keep putting myself through this. My new house and family should be better than the last, but I felt so out of my element for the ump-teenth time. All the new and different things were strange and I found myself missing my old home. Crazy I know, considering how badly I wanted to get out of there. But you can never under estimate the power of comfort and the terror of the unkown.

Despite my aprehension about starting over again, all and all, things are going really good right now. I spent the last two days at the beach with various friends. The water has magically become not disgusting and actually a really pretty blue. There still is a decent amount of trash but if you swimout far enough its not that bad. So I`ve been in the water a lot, and I couldn´t be happier. I took the day off from the beach to go back to work. Lucky for me, it was totally worth it because of the whole jesus/foreskin question. I hope all of you find this as humorous as I do.

The Deputy Directors Visit

I was told it was a big honor and a big deal that the Deputy Director for all of Peace Corps would be visiting my site. I don’t think it was the Deputy Director coming that made me nervous so much as the Country Director and Assistant Country Director of Peru visiting my site. I never have to see the Deputy Director again, but if I let down the team, I would have to face the shame every time I visited the Peace Corps office in Lima. I finally dealt with the stress of the visit in the same way I dealt with the stress of feeling like the worst Peace Corps volunteer in all of Peru: I threw myself into work. Because of that, I felt ready and proud to present my projects. It was also nice that I knew I didn’t have to present a polished, perfect picture. All of the directors are former PCV’s and so they understand the circumstances in which I work.
I had hoped to have my theater group curtain ready, but after our last practice on Thursday before I left, only 2 of the 10 girls, could do the play without a script. But I figured it would probably be more interesting for the directors to see a dress rehearsal than the final product, that way they could see the actual work being put into it. I also had organized a few games for all the adults to play with the girls. But I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to fill the allotted two hours of the visit.

In the end, the visit was a blur and there wasn’t enough time to do everything I wanted to do. I should have known better. The tour of the Hogar, which I estimated to be 5-10 minuets lasted a half hour. All the young girls attached themselves to any and all of the free legs and hands of all of my directors. So moving from place to place was difficult cause all the little girls wanted to be part of what was happening. The attention starved girls probably had the most dramatic impact on the directors. Once upon a time it had that same effect on me, but I’ve learned to push through the need to hold every little girl’s hand. If I did that, I would never get anything done.
The Deputy Director’s assistant was so excited that we had a baby llama. She may have taken more pictures with the llama than with the girls. Then we left the youngest girls behind finally for our theatrical presentation. The girls were amazing. They did so well, I had to hold back tears when they were all done. Then we played our games and the girls and directors seemed to really enjoy themselves.

Afterwards I sat down with all the directors and they asked me mountains of questions about the home and my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer. It was really overwhelming. I was nervous. When I’m nervous I can’t stop smiling, even if it’s a very serious subject and I sound like a complete idiot. I make a lot of grammatical errors, in English, and my brain moves so quickly I can’t make well thought out statements. I literally had 6 people bombarding me questions. I know they were just curios and they genuinely cared about what I had to say, but it felt like an intense interview. I had the spot light on me, but the time was zooming by. I found myself wanting more time with them. Everyone was asking questions about me and my work, but I really wanted to talk to the Deputy Director and ask her about her experiences and her work. I know very little about her other than she was a Peace Corps volunteer in the 60’s in Tunisia and has a PhD in international development. In short, she is some one I strive to be like.

They whole visit went well until the end. The group was supposed to eat lunch at the Hogar, but the food wasn’t ready in time and the directors had to get moving to see the site of the business volunteer next to me. I felt horrible, they all must have been starving. But I didn’t feel as bad as the head nun. “Oh the shame, the shame” she kept saying to me. I told her not to worry. that the directors were all very pleased with the visit. Of course they only had amazing things to say to me. I don't want to use the term "blowing smoke up my ass", one because it's crude and two, because I think they were all being very geniune. But it did feel a bit like the afformentioned phrase. It’s funny to think that just a month ago I felt like I was the worst Peace Corps Volunteer in all of Peru. Moral of the story? Work will set you free. That is, if your work is as challenging and rewarding as mind.

The Deputy Director said a few words to me personally, but in front of everyone, so it was kind of awkward. She told me how proud and impressed she was with how I interact with the girls and work and inspire and all that stuff. I was bumbling idiot with a big embarrassed smile on my face and tears in my eyes. The Deputy Director made me feel flattered, humble and proud. But the real reward was seeing how good the girls felt after successfully performing their first play in front of such intimidating adults. Every one in the Hogar felt honored for having received such important guests.

At the end of the visit, the directors were taking pictures with me and the girls. The local police who always come to the hogar to eat lunch, jumped up and starting taking pictures of us with their camera phones. That’s how special everyone thought my directors were.

I’m glad I was able to not stress out too much about the visit. I knew it would be great, because I have been working really hard. And after all the preparation and my crazy trip to Carnival, all followed by a visit from 6 very important people, I was so relieved to have it over with. Me and my counterpart breathed a huge sigh of relief. But tomorrow I’ll be back to do my sexuality workshop, so my relaxed state will be short lived, cause in just a few more hours it’s back work. And just when I thought I was done with site visits for a year of so, I just got an email from my doctor saying next time I’m in the Lima, to stop by his office so we can plan a time for him to come out and check out site. I guess it never ends. But as long as I keep up the hard work, I shouldn’t have much

Carnival!

Cajamarca and Carnival were both amazing. Cajamarca is the capital of the mountainous province with the same name. It is situated 9,000 feet up in the Andes and is famous historically, for being the location where the Inca king Atahualpa, was captured by the Spanish. In order for his release, the Inca’s had to fill a room once with gold and twice with silver. It took them over a year, and in the end, the Spanish killed him anyways. And so, the city, of maybe 100,000 people, is a unique mix of Spanish and Incan tradition.
After a long and frustrating trip, I finally stepped off the bus and breathed in the fresh mountain air. I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. It was so good to get out of the desert and Lima. The mountains shot up in all directions from the Cajamarca valley, and they were green. There weren’t many trees, just lush, bright, green grass covering every inch of the ancient sierras.
I had seen so many pictures of Cajamarca and other mountain towns, it was so amazing to finally be in a part of Peru that looked to incredible to be real. Immediately, I felt a pang inside. I thought how different my life would be if I wasn’t a Lima volunteer. Cajamarca was always the image I had in my mind of how I would spend my two years in Peace Corps. My whole trip, I couldn’t shake the “what if” feeling. Especially because in my first month of service, I was offered a site changed to a mountain town in Cajamarca, which I turned down. But I didn’t spend too much time thinking about the way things could be. Within 5 minuets of hoping off the bus, I was at the hotel and regaling new stories with follow PCV’s in no time.

I invited my Lima friends up to celebrate the festivities with us. One of my friends is a former PCV from Ecuador and all of my Lima friends were so excited to meet all the volunteers who I never shut up about. I think all my fellow 9ers were taken aback by how much my friends knew about them already. There must have been at least 45 volunteers. We filled a whole hotel and then some. So Friday night, every body hung out at the hotel catching up until it was time go out and party.

Saturday morning I woke up bright an early and went with Team Lima (all the volunteers from specific departments have cool names, aka “Ancash Money“ and “Arequipin’ it real”. Since I was representing Lima solo, I gave me and my friends the name Team Lima) to the Banos del Inca. The Inca Baths are natural hot springs that they have channeled into private baths and swimming pools. Tania and Lauren opted for private baths and me and Candice hit the pool. It was the most spectacular setting. A steaming natural pool surrounded by bright green mountains. Even though it is so high up in the mountains, it’s tropical, so when the sun is out it’s quite warm. It was strange but awesome to be in a bikini at 8 in the morning at 9,000 feet. The sun was hot but the air was still mountain morning crisp. Being in the water felt amazing, being out of the water felt amazing. I could have stayed there all day. But I knew the tranquility of the morning had to end. It was Carnival. Craziness was about to ensue.
I had heard stories about what to expect. It was clear who the veteran volunteers were and who were the rookies (rookies featured bellow in picture). Peru 7 had shirts specially made and others were dressed in a wide array of get ups. I was wearing my high school basketball shorts, sandals from Costco and a Cajamarca Tee-shirt I bought at the hot springs. Cajamarca is famous for it’s completely, out of control, water and paint fights. We all started drinking and in a huge group we took to the streets to take on the locals at their own game. We were instant targets cause we are white (and black and asian, but definetly not Peruvian). Every person that saw us attacked us. When we finally arrived in the town plaza we were COVERED in paint and water. So we danced in the plaza with each other and locals as we continued to be nailed by balloons and buckets from all sides.

This may sound awful to some of you. But I assure you, with the right mind set and the right group of people, it is such a great experience.

One thing about Cajamarca, is that every house and building has a balcony. So you can’t walk down the street without people dumping buckets of water on you. So after we were done with the war in the Plaza, we headed back to the balconies of our hotel to continue attacking anyone that passed. The picture on the left is after we had all been attacked in the streets so we're up on the balcony of the hotel with a water baloon launcher

When late afternoon hit, we were all tuckered out. Some volunteers headed to the Inca Baths to recharge. Me and Team Lima went and passed out for two hours in our room. The nights in Cajamarca are chilly, so when we woke up we got some hot soup and yummy tea which hit the spot after our incredible day. Team Lima went back to the room after dinner and took advantage of the cable TV and I didn’t see them the rest of the night. I spent the evening in the common area with Peru 9ers, drinking beer and catching up on all the good stories from site. Afterwards we went and danced the night away at a club.

By the time I surfaced Sunday morning, a lot of volunteers had already left. I decided to go check out the parades with Team Lima. Saturday is the official paint day, the rest of the days are just water. We thought we would be fine. But we were four white girls in a sierra town. We were attacked, and unfairly. But I guess we should have expected that. We always get way more attention than we want. And when the men who normally whistle and holler as you walk by them have water balloons and buckets of water, of course they are going to attack us instead of the tiny, 40 year old village woman standing next to us. In this picture, you can't really tell, but Tania (to my right) is alraedy soaking wet head to toe. As you can see the streets were filled with people, but everything about us makes us stand out.

I learned my lesson from my trip from Lima and gave myself plenty of time at the bus. I settled into to my seat that I would be occupying for the next 14 hours, and I slept better than I ever slept on an overnight bus. Between the Inca Baths, the friends, the paint wars and the green fresh mountains, Saturday was one of the best days I’ve ever had in Peru. I woke up in Lima ready to take on the summer desert once again. But I had something bigger on my mind than the heat. The deputy director for all of Peace Corps, the country director of Peru, the assistant director of Peru and my program director were all arriving at my site hours after I did. I tried very hard all of Carnival not to think about this visit and enjoy my vacation. I did a good job of keeping it out of my mind. But it was time to move it from the back burner to front and center. Did all of my plans fall apart over the weekend while I was partying and playing? Or was my visit a gran exito (big success)? Tune in tomorrow for the

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Carnival

A lot has happened over the past 5 days and I want to write all about it, but I have broken it up into three parts. I have started with the trip to Carnival because it is too classic to ignore. I have all the stories written and will post it in 3 parts.

I travel a lot. But like the vast majority of my trips, there were a few bumps in the road this past weekend. And I use the term, bump in the road, because my travel hang ups always seem to revolve around transportation. I have had some truly awesome travel catastrophes. My dad always thinks he can one up all of my break downs and strange “Benicia triangle” mishaps, but my dad has never pushed his broken down car across the Mexican border, alone. I’m also pretty confident my dad doesn´t have anything quite as unique as my trip to Carnival in Cajamarca.

It’s my fault, I admit it. I was all ready to leave on my 13 hour, overnight double-decker bus up to the mountain town of Cajamarca for Carnival. I had planned on meeting over half of Peru 9 as well as a bunch of other PCV’s from different groups for the famous festivities of Carnival, way up in the Andes mountains. But due to a big misjudgment in Lima traffic, I arrived at the bus station just in time to see my bus role out of the station. Now, my bus was supposed to leave at 7 PM. Nothing in Peru is punctual. I have never been on a bus that has left on time. But of course, Ali’s law says the one time I am running late is the one time a bus leaves on time in the history of Peru. I arrived exactly at 7. If they had waited just one minuet more, I would have made it.
Since Carnival in Cajamarca is popular, and most of the overnight buses had already left, I was certain if I stayed in Lima I was not going to make it Cajamarca in time. So I hopped on another overnight bus to Trujillo, which is 8 hours north, thinking the closer I got, the easier it would be find an empty seat. I called just about everyone I thought might help me. I had two friends leaving out of Trujillo that night. They checked with the bus line they were traveling on, and the 4 busses they had leaving on Friday were all full. My situation was looking grim, there was a good chance I was going to wake up in Trujillo and be stuck there. I had to talk myself down from a panic attack telling myself that I’d been in way worse situations than this. But it wasn’t so much about being stuck and not knowing what to do. It was just that this was my first real vacation I was taking in Peru. It was my first time in the Andes mountains. It was all my friends. It was Carnival! And it was looking like I wasn’t going to make it.

I arrived in Trujillo at 7 in the morning. I went to 9 different bus stations, and nobody had seats. It was beginning to look hopeless. But finally I found an open seat on a bus leaving at 10:30. But the catch was it wasn’t on a “reputable” bus line. Peace Corps gave us a list of busses we are supposed to travel on for our safety and our sanity. Now I know why. This was a seven hour bus ride with no bathroom and no air conditioner (the first 3 hours of the ride were through the desert). I’m not entirely sure what happened, if they oversold the bus or what, but there were more people on the bus than there were seats. I was one of the first people to board and there was already a woman with her two daughters in my seat. I told her she was in my seat and she said that it was all the same. I told her actually, it was not all the same, that I had elected that seat in the very front, next to a window because I get sick. I thought she would pack up her family and move to a different seat, but she just moved over to the aisle seat. She lifted the arm rest in between the two seats and put her two daughters in between us.

I realized then, that this woman had down the classic Peru tradition of buying one seat for the whole family and that I had to compromise my space because of it. I was already in a pretty bad mood having missed my bus the night before and being terrified that I would be miss Carnival all together. I may have been a bit more tolerant of the situation if it wasn’t for my already foul disposition. But because there were other people raising huge to-do’s about having paid for a seat and not getting one, I found the courage to put down the arm rest. I literally put down the arm rest on top of one of the little girls and said “oh, excuse me, excuse me”, forcing the little girls to move over. The woman gave me a look like “what do you think you`re doing you incredibly rude, white girl?”. This was definitely a difference in culture. In her world, it was totally expectable to buy one bus ticket and put three people in it. But in my, totally annoyed world, this was absolutely unacceptable. So when she gave me a look, I gave one right back. And it was settled. She knew she was in the wrong. So the arm rest stayed down the rest of the trip as she tried to balance one girl on her lap and squeeze the other one into her leg room. Of course she immediately wandered over to my leg room, and the rest of the trip became a personal space tug of war.

I felt bad, I was totally being bitchy about my space. But I kept saying to myself “you paid for this ticket, stand up for yourself”. But then the Peace Corps side of me kept reprimanding my behavior for being selfish and unsympathetic. Both the girls and the mom were all so sweet. Once the mom realized that I wanted my space, she was very respectful and polite about keeping her girls on her side. And the girls offered me some of their cookies and soda. But I still proceeded to be annoyed for most of the trip.

When we got close to Cajamarca, the bus started getting bombarded by buckets of water and water balloons. Since there was no air-conditioning, the windows were opened and we all got wet. I actually found it really cool. Welcome to Carnival, I thought to myself. But the little girls did not have the same response. They started crying, which of course annoyed me even more. I couldn´t wait to get off that bus and arrive.

But finally, finally, finally, 24 hours after missing my bus in Lima. I arrived in Cajamarca. Was it all worth it? I’ve rambled on too long already to pour into the high jinx of this wet and wild weekend. So I will post pictures and stories tomorrow about carnival