Something happened to me during my Peace Corps service that I didn't foresee happening. This whole crazy experience became my life. I'll explain.
When I first arrived in Peru, everything was different and so new that it was all novel. The simplest activity like going to the store would end up being a hilarious incident that I couldn't wait to come home and share it with those who read my blog. I detailed my day to day life, my vacations, my work, and my ups and downs. Over time, my entries became less about all the stuff that was new a weird around me, and more about interesting events and broad ideas I'd been thinking about.
This was my first venture into the blogosphere, and I learned a lot. I learned that you cannot share every thought and fleeting emotion, unless you are really prepared to have the whole world know about it. The more I got used to my life in Peru, the less I wanted to share publically. All the sudden, the things that really stood out to me when I sat down to write my blog, was not about my next door neighboor and the pig head she gave me as a present, but about the way my boss talked to me and how much it upset me. Now, I couldn't very well write on a public blog that my boss was hurting my feelings. She could read it and then I'd we'd have even bigger problems.
Around January, I started thinking really hard about what I wanted to do after Peace Corps. I figured, all my friends back home would want to know too. I thought many times about writing a blog about what my plans for after I closed my service, but the problem was, those plans changed every week. I didn't want to make my readers go through the same roller coaster ride I was of trying to decide if I would stay in Peru or return to the states. Making a lot of these decisions was deeply emotional, and I didn't want to revel my deepest feelings.
Another big change since January is that I started dating again. Of course, this took over a large chunk of what I thought about throughout the day and also dominated the majority of emotions. I can't think of anything more terrifying than coming home from a date and blogging about it. Writing that I went out with such and such guy and that I really liked him or disliked him, and then having him google me and find what I had written would be mortifying. I realized I'm a lot more private than I thought. There are so many things that are happening in my life that I just don't want shared.
Well, what about things I don't mind sharing? There was a ton of stuff I could have written about while never touch the subject of my future, dating or any other emotion. But when I did write while all that other stuff was going on, it felt like a half truth. What was real and on my mind everytime I sat down to write, was stuff I didn't want the entire world knowing. I instead turned to personal emails. I've been writing a lot to my close friends and family and they have been helping me through the big emotional stuff.
So to the rest of you who do not recieve personal emails, I am sorry you've been out of the loop. I will say that as of now, I plan to finish my service some time in august, travel and hang out for a few months and return to California in the fall. From there, I don't really know what I want to do. The world is literally at my feet and I can go in any direction. I'm not necesarily done with blogging, I may find the whole readjustment back to the US compelling and start sharing more stories. I just know for the time being, I want to figure some stuff out on my own, before I open my life back up to the public.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
I heart Frisbee
It's the simple pleasures in life that make it so enjoyable.
My last quarter at UC Davis, I found myself with an excess of time on my hands. My buddy Vaughn had recently left the Joe-job world in search or his first real job. We seemed to be the only people around not bogged down with school, jobs, theater practice, sports or internships. Because of all this free time, Vaughn and I would find completely useless means to entertain ourselves. Thus, Vaughn is credited with introducing me to my love of Frisbee.
On random week day mornings, as all my roommates where getting ready for their impossibly full days, Vaughn would show up at my door with a frisbee and some form of alcohol. Usually a bottle of champagne or 6 pack of New Castle beer. We would go to a near by park and toss the Frisbee around for hours. It was winter time, so sometimes we would play in the rain. No matter the weather, Vaughn would always be in shorts. Sometimes he would demand we wear funny hats and we'd play with felt lobsters or stove pipe hats on our head. There was no reason behind any of it, it was just fun.
Vaughn was very good. I sucked. I couldn't throw very well, but I could run and catch like a wide receiver. So when I say we "played" Frisbee, what I mean to say is that Vaughn would chuck the Frisbee as far as he could throw it and I'd sprint off toward it leaping like a gazelle at the end to catch it. It was kind of like playing fetch, but I loved it. There are few opportunities at this age where one can just sprint all out as fast as their legs will carry them. It's the most amazing feeling to drop all your inhibitions and run like an 8 year old.
While playing frisbee and drinking all day may seem like the ideal life, it was a relatively torturous time for me. I hate down time and I was bored out of my mind. I was actually jealous that my roommates had so much going on. It was those moments though, when I was chasing after a frisbee that let me get all my pent up angst out.
Once again I find myself in a position similar to my final quarter at Davis, too much down time. I found varying ways to deal with the anxiety that comes from boredom. I'd go to the local gym and participate in crazy 80's aerobics classes, I blogged, I even trained for and ran a marathon. A few months ago, some US embassy employees started a weekly Ultimate Frisbee game. I had heard about it and knew that I needed to get myself involved.
I'd only played Ultimate Frisbee a handfull of times, usually it as a reward for friday's track practice in place of a work out. After all those frisbee sessions with Vaughn, I still couldn't throw very well, but I could run and I could catch. The group that plays at the embassy is mostly men and I'm probably the youngest person out there. I definitely surprised a couple guys with my athletic ability and soon became a staple of the team.
Frisbee is a very simple game. It doesn't take much skill or thinking. You just get out there an run as hard as you can. I'm evening getting better at throwing the frisbee! Frisbee Wednesdays are my favorite day of the week now. It's the one time I can leave it all behind and just run. When I go back to site on wednesday night, I feel more at ease and can better appreciate my free time.
I can't wait to see Vaughn again and show him my new skills.
My last quarter at UC Davis, I found myself with an excess of time on my hands. My buddy Vaughn had recently left the Joe-job world in search or his first real job. We seemed to be the only people around not bogged down with school, jobs, theater practice, sports or internships. Because of all this free time, Vaughn and I would find completely useless means to entertain ourselves. Thus, Vaughn is credited with introducing me to my love of Frisbee.
On random week day mornings, as all my roommates where getting ready for their impossibly full days, Vaughn would show up at my door with a frisbee and some form of alcohol. Usually a bottle of champagne or 6 pack of New Castle beer. We would go to a near by park and toss the Frisbee around for hours. It was winter time, so sometimes we would play in the rain. No matter the weather, Vaughn would always be in shorts. Sometimes he would demand we wear funny hats and we'd play with felt lobsters or stove pipe hats on our head. There was no reason behind any of it, it was just fun.
Vaughn was very good. I sucked. I couldn't throw very well, but I could run and catch like a wide receiver. So when I say we "played" Frisbee, what I mean to say is that Vaughn would chuck the Frisbee as far as he could throw it and I'd sprint off toward it leaping like a gazelle at the end to catch it. It was kind of like playing fetch, but I loved it. There are few opportunities at this age where one can just sprint all out as fast as their legs will carry them. It's the most amazing feeling to drop all your inhibitions and run like an 8 year old.
While playing frisbee and drinking all day may seem like the ideal life, it was a relatively torturous time for me. I hate down time and I was bored out of my mind. I was actually jealous that my roommates had so much going on. It was those moments though, when I was chasing after a frisbee that let me get all my pent up angst out.
Once again I find myself in a position similar to my final quarter at Davis, too much down time. I found varying ways to deal with the anxiety that comes from boredom. I'd go to the local gym and participate in crazy 80's aerobics classes, I blogged, I even trained for and ran a marathon. A few months ago, some US embassy employees started a weekly Ultimate Frisbee game. I had heard about it and knew that I needed to get myself involved.
I'd only played Ultimate Frisbee a handfull of times, usually it as a reward for friday's track practice in place of a work out. After all those frisbee sessions with Vaughn, I still couldn't throw very well, but I could run and I could catch. The group that plays at the embassy is mostly men and I'm probably the youngest person out there. I definitely surprised a couple guys with my athletic ability and soon became a staple of the team.
Frisbee is a very simple game. It doesn't take much skill or thinking. You just get out there an run as hard as you can. I'm evening getting better at throwing the frisbee! Frisbee Wednesdays are my favorite day of the week now. It's the one time I can leave it all behind and just run. When I go back to site on wednesday night, I feel more at ease and can better appreciate my free time.
I can't wait to see Vaughn again and show him my new skills.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Overnight Results
It's a very common experience for a Peace Corps volunteer to arrive in a community and for all the locals to expect that this foreigner is going to teach them English. Most PCVs try their hand in one way or another at teaching English. Whether it's teaching artisans basic words and phrases like "how much?" so they can more effectively sell their products at fairs, helping kids with their English homework, or working everyday in an English institute. Teaching English is almost unavoidable during our two year service.
Luckily, the initial idea that every person you come into contact with that you are going to teach them English wears off after they realize they cannot learn a language over night and without a considerable amount of effort on their part. My favorite is when the host country national blames the volunteer for not being able to learn through osmosis. So unless the volunteer is wildly motivated to teach English or they are magically blessed with enough people willing to put the back work into studying, the volunteer can eventually focus on projects closer to their heart.
I continuously side step working with English. But I have found a similar mentality in another area that I have been unable to avoid. At my girls home I do a lot of different projects. I teach classes on communication, self esteem, sexuality, etc. I have a theater group and mural painting project. But from the moment I arrived at the home, the girls have demanded exercise and aerobics classes. While setting up my summer schedule this year, the girls agreed to all of my proposals as long as I would have exercise classes.
I started the classes just a few weeks ago. Twice a week I show up in the morning, before it gets too hot, and we do a fairly basic routine. We run on dirt roads around the farms for about 20 minutes. Actually, the running only lasts from 5-10 minutes because only about 3 of the 10 girls jog while the others have varying paces of walk/jogging. We get to our half way point where we turn around to go back, but sit and wait for the rest of the girls to finish before we return. At our rest stop a lot of the girls by sodas. I try to explain to them how water is a better choice, but so far no one has bought a bottle of water.
Then we stretch and do simple exercises like squats, lunges, chair dips and push ups. And of course, no day of exercise is ever complete without sit ups and abs. If you remember back to my blogs about going to the gym in Lurin, you'll remember that most Peruvian woman have a muffin top belly and are adamant about doing 2 seconds of ab work to get rid of it. Resources are limited so there isn't much else to do. There are no weights or steps or even a radio to do a more intensive and thorough work out. But the regiment I have complied is certainly enough to help the girls maintain a healthy lifestyle.
If only that were enough.
After two weeks the girls started complaining the the exercise classes weren't working. They weren't loosing any weight and they looked exactly the same. They made comments about my body and wanted to know what I did to look the way I look. It was then I noticed the pattern that is persistent with learning English. The moment I walked through the gate at the home, the girls looked at me and thought that i could teach them to look just like me, and overnight at that. I tried at first to simply brush off the remarks that the girls wanted to know my secret, hopding they would forget about it and just enjoy the classes as they are. But they got quite demanding and I've tried with great difficulty to explain to them than in order to loose weight one must really put a lot of effort in; exercise everyday and change their diet.
But the answer isn't as simple as applying one's self to learn English. I try to explain that they don't need to loose weight, that they have healthy bodies. Not just that. If say, some one really wanted to learn English, they could study and practice and one day, they would indeed speak English. But no matter how hard they worked, they would never look like me. My body type is completely different. Every one is built a different way with different natural shapes and metabolisms.
It's frustrating, cause they don't seem to get it. And why would they? It's no different from the millions of Americans who get suckered into buying quick fix, overnight result exercise equipment and diet fads products. This is a billion dollar industry. I can't really blame the girls that they have a hard time understanding they're not going to transform in a matter or weeks.
But it's hard. There is a girl in my exercise group who was abused and got pregnant at 12. Now she is 13 and has the body of mother. She wants to loose the extra weight around her middle. She wants to look like the rest of the girls. It breaks my heart. She is one of the most dedicated girls in the class because she was powerless to resist getting pregnant, but she is not powerless to loose the weight. This is something she can do and is determined.
One might think that after what these girls have been through, the way their bodies look might seem trivial or that they would want to cover up and hide their bodies after the abuse they have endured. But nothing could be farther from the truth. The female body image remains a point of much interest to me. Thought my exercise classes I am learning how to tackle health issues and self esteem issues. It won't happen overnight, but I have at least until August to make a change.
Luckily, the initial idea that every person you come into contact with that you are going to teach them English wears off after they realize they cannot learn a language over night and without a considerable amount of effort on their part. My favorite is when the host country national blames the volunteer for not being able to learn through osmosis. So unless the volunteer is wildly motivated to teach English or they are magically blessed with enough people willing to put the back work into studying, the volunteer can eventually focus on projects closer to their heart.
I continuously side step working with English. But I have found a similar mentality in another area that I have been unable to avoid. At my girls home I do a lot of different projects. I teach classes on communication, self esteem, sexuality, etc. I have a theater group and mural painting project. But from the moment I arrived at the home, the girls have demanded exercise and aerobics classes. While setting up my summer schedule this year, the girls agreed to all of my proposals as long as I would have exercise classes.
I started the classes just a few weeks ago. Twice a week I show up in the morning, before it gets too hot, and we do a fairly basic routine. We run on dirt roads around the farms for about 20 minutes. Actually, the running only lasts from 5-10 minutes because only about 3 of the 10 girls jog while the others have varying paces of walk/jogging. We get to our half way point where we turn around to go back, but sit and wait for the rest of the girls to finish before we return. At our rest stop a lot of the girls by sodas. I try to explain to them how water is a better choice, but so far no one has bought a bottle of water.
Then we stretch and do simple exercises like squats, lunges, chair dips and push ups. And of course, no day of exercise is ever complete without sit ups and abs. If you remember back to my blogs about going to the gym in Lurin, you'll remember that most Peruvian woman have a muffin top belly and are adamant about doing 2 seconds of ab work to get rid of it. Resources are limited so there isn't much else to do. There are no weights or steps or even a radio to do a more intensive and thorough work out. But the regiment I have complied is certainly enough to help the girls maintain a healthy lifestyle.
If only that were enough.
After two weeks the girls started complaining the the exercise classes weren't working. They weren't loosing any weight and they looked exactly the same. They made comments about my body and wanted to know what I did to look the way I look. It was then I noticed the pattern that is persistent with learning English. The moment I walked through the gate at the home, the girls looked at me and thought that i could teach them to look just like me, and overnight at that. I tried at first to simply brush off the remarks that the girls wanted to know my secret, hopding they would forget about it and just enjoy the classes as they are. But they got quite demanding and I've tried with great difficulty to explain to them than in order to loose weight one must really put a lot of effort in; exercise everyday and change their diet.
But the answer isn't as simple as applying one's self to learn English. I try to explain that they don't need to loose weight, that they have healthy bodies. Not just that. If say, some one really wanted to learn English, they could study and practice and one day, they would indeed speak English. But no matter how hard they worked, they would never look like me. My body type is completely different. Every one is built a different way with different natural shapes and metabolisms.
It's frustrating, cause they don't seem to get it. And why would they? It's no different from the millions of Americans who get suckered into buying quick fix, overnight result exercise equipment and diet fads products. This is a billion dollar industry. I can't really blame the girls that they have a hard time understanding they're not going to transform in a matter or weeks.
But it's hard. There is a girl in my exercise group who was abused and got pregnant at 12. Now she is 13 and has the body of mother. She wants to loose the extra weight around her middle. She wants to look like the rest of the girls. It breaks my heart. She is one of the most dedicated girls in the class because she was powerless to resist getting pregnant, but she is not powerless to loose the weight. This is something she can do and is determined.
One might think that after what these girls have been through, the way their bodies look might seem trivial or that they would want to cover up and hide their bodies after the abuse they have endured. But nothing could be farther from the truth. The female body image remains a point of much interest to me. Thought my exercise classes I am learning how to tackle health issues and self esteem issues. It won't happen overnight, but I have at least until August to make a change.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Update on listening to my body
I wrote my last entry right before heading out for the evening. In a way, I was trying to remind myself to take it easy and not over do it.
Well, I went to the beach house with 4 boys and we didn't go to bed till 5 in the morning and today my body REALLY hates me. Why is taking it easy so hard for me? I gotta stop hanging out with boys so much because they drink so hard and I always try to keep up.
I swear, tonight I'm staying in! and tomorrow during the super bowl I am not drinking at all.
Well, I went to the beach house with 4 boys and we didn't go to bed till 5 in the morning and today my body REALLY hates me. Why is taking it easy so hard for me? I gotta stop hanging out with boys so much because they drink so hard and I always try to keep up.
I swear, tonight I'm staying in! and tomorrow during the super bowl I am not drinking at all.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Learning to Listen to My Body
Damn being human! Why can't we be robots or at least have a way of engineering the better more efficient parts?
Our bodies are very special and we must take care them as best we can because they are the only one we're gonna get. I swear, I try really hard to take care of my body. I eat right, I exercise, I keep it clean and I rest it. But I also push it. In my opinion, I don't push my body nearly as hard as other people around me. But apparently I don't know when too much is enough.
What I don't get is that I sleep a lot. Being a Peace Coprs volunteer, I'm subject to a 9-5 schedule and I take full advantage of that by getting between 8-12 hours of sleep on week nights. It's awesome. It's not the sleep that's so much the problem, it's how hard I push my body physically when I'm awake. I walk to work and back each day which adds up to around 2 hours of walking a day. At work, I play with mountains of little kids which is exhausting physically, mentally and emotionally. I'm known to party as hard as I work and I push my body to it's limits when I exercise.
This is how I got mono last year. My body had been screaming at me for weeks to take it easy, that it was on it's last leg, so to speak. After a month of being completely knocked off my feet, I promised myself I would take better care or my body and respect it's limits in second year in Peru. Coming back to my Peace Corps life after medevac was tough. It was a slow recovery and I didn't start to feel like my true self again until 3 months after the fact. I climbed the Inca trail and felt pretty good. I started exercising again. But then it started to snow ball. Summer arrived and with it all the out door activities that I had been missing for 8 months.
I started feeling tired and run down after a month of fun in the sun, but I couldn't bring myself to decline a single invitation to go throw the frisbee or swim in the ocean. Finally last weekend I said I wasn't going to go out. My friends were aghast. They wouldn't except it and demand I go out. I asked them to understand that I was still vulnerable from the mono and I needed to take care of myself so I didn't relapse. They weren't the most supportive, so I half to easy.
Sure enough the following monday, I was knocked off my feet again by a terrible fever. I wasn't permitting my body to fully recover, so my body was forcing me. I lay helpless in bed for a few days unable to do anything. I didn't leave my house for 72 hours, maybe a record for me in Peru. I strangely wasn't mad that I was sick, I knew I had it coming. So after a week of being sick as a dog, I'm going to attempt another low key weekend.
Our bodies are very special and we must take care them as best we can because they are the only one we're gonna get. I swear, I try really hard to take care of my body. I eat right, I exercise, I keep it clean and I rest it. But I also push it. In my opinion, I don't push my body nearly as hard as other people around me. But apparently I don't know when too much is enough.
What I don't get is that I sleep a lot. Being a Peace Coprs volunteer, I'm subject to a 9-5 schedule and I take full advantage of that by getting between 8-12 hours of sleep on week nights. It's awesome. It's not the sleep that's so much the problem, it's how hard I push my body physically when I'm awake. I walk to work and back each day which adds up to around 2 hours of walking a day. At work, I play with mountains of little kids which is exhausting physically, mentally and emotionally. I'm known to party as hard as I work and I push my body to it's limits when I exercise.
This is how I got mono last year. My body had been screaming at me for weeks to take it easy, that it was on it's last leg, so to speak. After a month of being completely knocked off my feet, I promised myself I would take better care or my body and respect it's limits in second year in Peru. Coming back to my Peace Corps life after medevac was tough. It was a slow recovery and I didn't start to feel like my true self again until 3 months after the fact. I climbed the Inca trail and felt pretty good. I started exercising again. But then it started to snow ball. Summer arrived and with it all the out door activities that I had been missing for 8 months.
I started feeling tired and run down after a month of fun in the sun, but I couldn't bring myself to decline a single invitation to go throw the frisbee or swim in the ocean. Finally last weekend I said I wasn't going to go out. My friends were aghast. They wouldn't except it and demand I go out. I asked them to understand that I was still vulnerable from the mono and I needed to take care of myself so I didn't relapse. They weren't the most supportive, so I half to easy.
Sure enough the following monday, I was knocked off my feet again by a terrible fever. I wasn't permitting my body to fully recover, so my body was forcing me. I lay helpless in bed for a few days unable to do anything. I didn't leave my house for 72 hours, maybe a record for me in Peru. I strangely wasn't mad that I was sick, I knew I had it coming. So after a week of being sick as a dog, I'm going to attempt another low key weekend.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Broken Record
I have been having the same conversations with Peruvians for a year and a half now. It goes something like this
Peruvian: Where are you from?
me: the US
Peruvian: Wow, your Spanish is great. How long have you been here?
me: a year and a half
Peruvian: Wow, that's a long time. What are you doing here?
me: I'm a volunteer. I work in a home for sexually abused girls and home for small abandoned boys.
Peruvian: Are you a teacher?
me: No
Peruvian: Do you like our food?
me: yes
Peruvian: Have you been to Machu Picchu?
me: yes
Peruvian: Do you have a peruvian boyfriend?
me: no
Peruvian: Why not? we're so fabulous. Do you want one?
me: no thank you
I have really been flexing my social networking muscle. Which means, I have been meeting a ton of new people lately and having this conversation more than ever. This past weekend I was at a party and probably had that conversation 20 times in one day. After a very long and fun weekend with a bunch of new people, I headed into Lima on sunday night for dinner with some old friends. It was refreshing to be around people who already know my bio and can have a conversation that is somewhat stimulating.
I was so tired on sunday and when I got in a cab to head back home, the taxi driver started the
"where are you from? You speak good spanish. What do you do? how long are you staying here?" He was a very sweet man who actually seemed interested. It was late, the streets were empty, he probably had been working a very long shift and enjoying having some one in his car to chat with. But I hated him at that moment. The last thing I wanted to do was have that conversation again. I wanted to zone out and be left alone.
This is why they say a Peace Corps volunteers job is 24/7. It can seem like there is never a break for us. We are always on. Sometimes I feel guilty that I made ex-pat friends in Lima and feel the need to escape to the sanctity of their company so often. But in the back seat of that taxi I realized how important my friends are to my sanity. I'm sure the moment I finish writing this blog entry, I will step outside and have to have this conversation again.
deep breath.
ready, set, go.....
Peruvian: Where are you from?
me: the US
Peruvian: Wow, your Spanish is great. How long have you been here?
me: a year and a half
Peruvian: Wow, that's a long time. What are you doing here?
me: I'm a volunteer. I work in a home for sexually abused girls and home for small abandoned boys.
Peruvian: Are you a teacher?
me: No
Peruvian: Do you like our food?
me: yes
Peruvian: Have you been to Machu Picchu?
me: yes
Peruvian: Do you have a peruvian boyfriend?
me: no
Peruvian: Why not? we're so fabulous. Do you want one?
me: no thank you
I have really been flexing my social networking muscle. Which means, I have been meeting a ton of new people lately and having this conversation more than ever. This past weekend I was at a party and probably had that conversation 20 times in one day. After a very long and fun weekend with a bunch of new people, I headed into Lima on sunday night for dinner with some old friends. It was refreshing to be around people who already know my bio and can have a conversation that is somewhat stimulating.
I was so tired on sunday and when I got in a cab to head back home, the taxi driver started the
"where are you from? You speak good spanish. What do you do? how long are you staying here?" He was a very sweet man who actually seemed interested. It was late, the streets were empty, he probably had been working a very long shift and enjoying having some one in his car to chat with. But I hated him at that moment. The last thing I wanted to do was have that conversation again. I wanted to zone out and be left alone.
This is why they say a Peace Corps volunteers job is 24/7. It can seem like there is never a break for us. We are always on. Sometimes I feel guilty that I made ex-pat friends in Lima and feel the need to escape to the sanctity of their company so often. But in the back seat of that taxi I realized how important my friends are to my sanity. I'm sure the moment I finish writing this blog entry, I will step outside and have to have this conversation again.
deep breath.
ready, set, go.....
Friday, January 16, 2009
I'm Gonna be a Mom!....Someday.....Maybe
No, no, no, I’m not pregnant.
I was standing, crammed into a combi this morning and all of the sudden I had an epiphany.
Having kids or getting married is not something that passes through my everyday thoughts . I’m certainly asked on a regular basis not if, but when, I’m going to get married and have kids. I always take this chance as a learning opportunity that a woman doesn’t have to be married or have children to validate her life.
I’m 25, single and have no idea what I want to do with my life exactly. How on earth would I know if I want to have kids?
But then this morning, out of know where it hit me. If I ever do decided to have kids and I have the ability, I want to adopt a child from Peru.
For a few months now, I’ve been feeling that all my work with the kids is not enough. I can’t help but have this hopeless feeling that no matter what I do, these beautiful boys and girls are destined to fall back into a life abuse and neglect. I wouldn’t have the opportunity even if I wanted to take home any of the kids I work with. None of them are technically orphans or “up for sale” anyways. But there are so many children in Peru who are.
Last month while I was traveling, I met a Peruvian woman and her beautiful family. She was born in Peru and moved to Paris to study, married a French man and has been living in Norway for the past 8 years. As I had drinks with her one evening, I told her about my work in children’s homes and she confided in me that she adopted both of her children. She came from Norway on two different occasions to adopt her children and told the story of the adoption process and the actual experience of going to pick up her children.
It was a really inspiring, beautiful story. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but all of the sudden I am seeing the great honor it is to adopt a child. Especially from a country that has come to mean so much to me.
I have never understood how people pay tens of thousands of dollars to have their seed and egg harvested into another donor carrier just so their spawn can live on. To me, this is one of the most selfish acts a person can commit. There are so many children out there who need homes. The want to have your own flesh and blood live on is understandable and biological. But by all standards, if you are unable to have a child naturally, surrogacy is completely not practical.
I believe in Darwinism. Even if you don’t and you believe that God created everything and has a plan, maybe God’s plan is that you shouldn’t procreate. I know that can come off a bit harsh. Many women I’m sure would tell me that I couldn’t understand unless I was in their position. Maybe, but I have felt this way for as long time. And now that I work with abandoned children and see just how many need homes, I have become quite passionate against surrogacy.
A woman unable to bear her own children may tell me I couldn’t understand unless I was in her shoes. Well, I’d like to tell that woman before she goes and spends $70,000 to artificially place her spawn in another woman, to come spend some time in my shoes. Come work a few months with all the abandoned and forgotten kids of the world. Then see if conscienceless she could turn her back on them and go create a test tube baby
I feel after I leave Peru, this feeling that my two years wasn’t enough may find it’s relief in the adoption of one child who won’t be forgotten. Again, it is too far away for me really consider. But if someday it ever happens, I will remember the morning in the combi when I thought to myself “hey, maybe someday I’ll adopt a Peruvian child”.
I was standing, crammed into a combi this morning and all of the sudden I had an epiphany.
Having kids or getting married is not something that passes through my everyday thoughts . I’m certainly asked on a regular basis not if, but when, I’m going to get married and have kids. I always take this chance as a learning opportunity that a woman doesn’t have to be married or have children to validate her life.
I’m 25, single and have no idea what I want to do with my life exactly. How on earth would I know if I want to have kids?
But then this morning, out of know where it hit me. If I ever do decided to have kids and I have the ability, I want to adopt a child from Peru.
For a few months now, I’ve been feeling that all my work with the kids is not enough. I can’t help but have this hopeless feeling that no matter what I do, these beautiful boys and girls are destined to fall back into a life abuse and neglect. I wouldn’t have the opportunity even if I wanted to take home any of the kids I work with. None of them are technically orphans or “up for sale” anyways. But there are so many children in Peru who are.
Last month while I was traveling, I met a Peruvian woman and her beautiful family. She was born in Peru and moved to Paris to study, married a French man and has been living in Norway for the past 8 years. As I had drinks with her one evening, I told her about my work in children’s homes and she confided in me that she adopted both of her children. She came from Norway on two different occasions to adopt her children and told the story of the adoption process and the actual experience of going to pick up her children.
It was a really inspiring, beautiful story. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but all of the sudden I am seeing the great honor it is to adopt a child. Especially from a country that has come to mean so much to me.
I have never understood how people pay tens of thousands of dollars to have their seed and egg harvested into another donor carrier just so their spawn can live on. To me, this is one of the most selfish acts a person can commit. There are so many children out there who need homes. The want to have your own flesh and blood live on is understandable and biological. But by all standards, if you are unable to have a child naturally, surrogacy is completely not practical.
I believe in Darwinism. Even if you don’t and you believe that God created everything and has a plan, maybe God’s plan is that you shouldn’t procreate. I know that can come off a bit harsh. Many women I’m sure would tell me that I couldn’t understand unless I was in their position. Maybe, but I have felt this way for as long time. And now that I work with abandoned children and see just how many need homes, I have become quite passionate against surrogacy.
A woman unable to bear her own children may tell me I couldn’t understand unless I was in her shoes. Well, I’d like to tell that woman before she goes and spends $70,000 to artificially place her spawn in another woman, to come spend some time in my shoes. Come work a few months with all the abandoned and forgotten kids of the world. Then see if conscienceless she could turn her back on them and go create a test tube baby
I feel after I leave Peru, this feeling that my two years wasn’t enough may find it’s relief in the adoption of one child who won’t be forgotten. Again, it is too far away for me really consider. But if someday it ever happens, I will remember the morning in the combi when I thought to myself “hey, maybe someday I’ll adopt a Peruvian child”.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Summer Has Arrived!
My life basically revolves around two things at the moment; the beach and the girls. What I like about my life, is that I can combine the two on occasion. During the summer months, the boys go off to spend their vacation with relatives so I only work at the girls home. It's great because they have no school and it gives me tons of time to do whatever I want with them. I get a lot of projects accomplished during the summer months because they are all bored and eager to things with me. It wasn't hard to get them to go to the beach with me, and it actually counts as work. Take that corporate world!
Last year I didn't take enough advantage of living on the beach. I feel like I've already been to the beach more times this year than I did all of last summer. I
I've been really active as of late. The tiredness of mono seemed to hang on for months and I didn't have the energy to do much. But now I'm playing ultimate frisbee, swimming and volleyball on a very regular basis and it feels phenomenal to be back in shape. I'm even going to start an exercise class at the home with the girls.
The one major downside to the summer is the staggering heat. Being from the Sacramento valley, I'm used to 100 degree days. But in California I have the luxury of air conditioning, insulated housing and driving in a car. It never gets any hotter than the 80s here, but it's very humid and I have to walk an hour to get to the girls home. When I arrive I'm covered in a filmy sweat and all the dust from the dirt roads. The cement buildings become ovens that maintain the heat even when it gets dark and cool outside. I just lie on my bed at night and sweat. I wake up several times during the night and feel hot and miserable. The one nice thing is that cold showers are no longer painful but actually pleasant and necessary. Some times 2 or 3 times a day.
Thank god I live so close to the beach.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Travel Log
The following 10 posts are the account of my 4 friends trip to Peru. It's pretty long and apart from my mom, I expect no one to read it in it's entirety. When I sat down to write a brief summary of my adventure, 12 pages came out and I couldn't bring myself to edit, so I just posted the whole thing. I hope you enjoy whatever fraction of it you read.
Lima: The Arrival
These just weren’t any friends who were coming to visit me in Peru.In Lima, I am known as the wild and crazy one by my friends. But in comparison to the group of people that was coming, I am the tame one. I prepared myself for the insanity that lay before me but from the moment they stepped off the plane the Lucchesi brothers, Eric and Ryan, along with their friend Rico ,were non-stop action and comedy. By the time Steph’s plane arrived 12 hours later, the boys had made Lima their playground.
Ryan accompanied me to the airport at midnight while I sent Eric and Rico with some Lima third year volunteers to meet up with the party of the Peru 12 swear in. We had all been drinking since dinner and to save a little money (the last time tried to save any money on this trip) I convinced Ryan to take one of the local micro buses instead of a taxi. I barely fit in the micro buses here and Ryan is 6’6’’. Fortunately for me, Ryan had a great time on the half our trip to the airport. He was excited by the way the door man hung out the window to hail pedestrians and by the crazy manner of driving. He got a kick out of all the people that got in and out of the van, but I think it’s safe to say all the Peruvians got a bigger kick out of him. He kept trying to communicate with them with 98% of the words coming out of his mouth in English. I must admit Ryan’s excite
ment for all the foreign things around him made me enjoy the trip more than any other bus trip I can think of. It was just a taste of things to come with the group I had assembled for our adventure in the Peruvian Andes.We picked up Steph at the airport without any problems at all. She looked just as tall, skinny and glamorous as ever. Let me put it this way, I knew I wasn’t going to have to worry about loosing her in any crowd of Peruvians. We took her strait to club to meet up with the rest of the group. We danced and partied till things died down around 4 then we went back to our hostel. Any other group after a long day of traveling and partying would have gone to bed then, but n
ot the Lucchessi brothers. We went up to the roof of our hostel where there was a DVD room with a bunch of bean bags on the floor. It promptly got renamed the romper room and we stayed up till 6 am jumping around and yelling movie quotes at people out the 3rd story window…..in English.The next day we did Lima right. We started the morning (or more accurately the afternoon) with a lunch of Ceviche. Then we headed to the cliffs to do some paragliding. I had been wanting to try paragliding for the year and a half I had lived in Lima but was waiting for the right moment and the right people to do it with. I highly recommend this experience for any one that comes to Lima and doesn’t suffer from vertigo. It was so neat to get a different perspective of it all and to be soaring around with my friends. After paragliding, we crossed the street and went to the apartment of a guy I know who works for the embassy. There jaws dropped at how amazing and how cheap ocean front rent is here. They not only got a glimpse of the upper crust of Peru (the last they would see of that for the rest of the trip) but some of the perks of working for the US foreign service.
Then we went to the center of Lima and the Plaza de Armas. I got to be a tourist again going to the Catacombs for the first time. The hours of day light we had for our one day of sight seeing in Lima were fading, so we went back to the hostel to get ready for Thanksgiving #2.
There were about 30 people at dinner. It felt like it was the culmination of something amazing, though I’m not sure what. I just felt during the night that those were the moments
that made life worth living. There were so many people there from all parts of my life, Lima, Peace Corps, California, that I was just a big puddle of love.Thanksgiving #2, 2008 was definitely a highlight night in my time in Peru. And while I retired early that evening (I think I went to bed around 2 AM) the Lucchesi boys and Rico were out all night on the roof party that our hostel hosted. I am happy to say that of all the new adventures I provided for my guests, seasoned traveler Ryan Lucchesi experienced his first real stay in a youth hostel and it was more than he ever could have hoped for.
Lima To Cusco
There may have been some pressure put on Steph and myself for not partying as hard as the boys. Don’t get me wrong, I party with the best of them. I can out drink most guys I know, I can captivate an entire dance floor and I have stayed up to see countless sunrises. But when I’m traveling, I like to take it easy. To me, there is nothing worse than not feeling well while traveling; unable to lay down and the motion of the vehicle adding to the nausea.
Not only that, when I am in charge of a trip and am responsible for getting everybody there safe and happy, I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself which can really stress me out. For these reasons, I did not party hard the night before we left for Cusco. Both Steph and I made a good showing, but were in bed by 2.
The flight from Lima to Cusco was named the Death March by the boys who were in a
considerable amount of pain after partying hard and not sleeping. I warned them sufficiently that not only were we flying, but we would be getting off the plane at a significantly different altitude which gives most people a headache without an already present hang over. But, boys will be boys.
Is it wrong to say I enjoyed their pain? Even in distress, the boys are light hearted and hilarious. They were the best travel companions because no matter what happened, they were in good spirits and not even a hang over could slow them down (even though sometimes I wish it would).
We didn’t have much time in Cusco, just the afternoon and night, then the trek started bright and early the next morning. Having already been to Cusco with my Parents, I had an idea of what would be the most appropriate for time there. I picked a hostel that was right in the main square of the colonial Plaza de Armas. We explored the square, the shopping and the restaur
ants and bars that were all within a stones throw. We ate guinea pig and alpaca and the group was able to check those off the “to do in peru” list.
Then what happened next became the standard for every night to come on our trip: Steph went back to the hostel to be alone and rest and the boys and I went out for a drink. After an hour or two and a drink or two, I went back to the hostel to assure myself enough sleep for the following days adventures and the boys stayed out, explored the city on their own, continued drinking and got no more than a handful of hours of sleep. I wish I had the stamina to do what the boys did on this trip. I can understand doing that one or two nights of a vacation, but they did it every night, including the days we were hiking and doing very strenuous amounts of work. Much to my surprise and delight, nobody got sick on our trip.
Not only that, when I am in charge of a trip and am responsible for getting everybody there safe and happy, I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself which can really stress me out. For these reasons, I did not party hard the night before we left for Cusco. Both Steph and I made a good showing, but were in bed by 2.The flight from Lima to Cusco was named the Death March by the boys who were in a
considerable amount of pain after partying hard and not sleeping. I warned them sufficiently that not only were we flying, but we would be getting off the plane at a significantly different altitude which gives most people a headache without an already present hang over. But, boys will be boys.Is it wrong to say I enjoyed their pain? Even in distress, the boys are light hearted and hilarious. They were the best travel companions because no matter what happened, they were in good spirits and not even a hang over could slow them down (even though sometimes I wish it would).
We didn’t have much time in Cusco, just the afternoon and night, then the trek started bright and early the next morning. Having already been to Cusco with my Parents, I had an idea of what would be the most appropriate for time there. I picked a hostel that was right in the main square of the colonial Plaza de Armas. We explored the square, the shopping and the restaur
ants and bars that were all within a stones throw. We ate guinea pig and alpaca and the group was able to check those off the “to do in peru” list.Then what happened next became the standard for every night to come on our trip: Steph went back to the hostel to be alone and rest and the boys and I went out for a drink. After an hour or two and a drink or two, I went back to the hostel to assure myself enough sleep for the following days adventures and the boys stayed out, explored the city on their own, continued drinking and got no more than a handful of hours of sleep. I wish I had the stamina to do what the boys did on this trip. I can understand doing that one or two nights of a vacation, but they did it every night, including the days we were hiking and doing very strenuous amounts of work. Much to my surprise and delight, nobody got sick on our trip.
Day 1: Bikin'
I already did Machu Picchu with my parents. We did it in the most comfortable way possible. We took the train, stayed in a Luxury hotel and ate exquisite food. This time around, I was going to get an entirely different experience. We decided to hike the Inca trail instead of taking the train. Because we were going during the rainy season, we picked a trek that wasn’t as hard core as some of the others that have you carry all of your stuff and sleep on the ground. Our tour had a wide range of activities we did along the trek so we weren’t just walking non-stop for 4 days strait. We also stayed in hostels in small Andean villages along the way instead of camping.The first day of our trek we
mountain biked. The start of our journey was rainy and cold but within an hour the rain stopped and as we descended from our start point at 4,000 + meters, the air warmed up around us to a point where we actually missed the cold.We had our only scare of the trip which resulted in a minor injury. My friend from Lima, Dave and his brother Dan who was visiting from Costa Rica were with us as well. Dan was trying to take a video on his camera while biking. He almost fell of a cliff. The video is pretty funny to watch, but only because he didn’t actually fall off the cliff. He scraped up his knee and lost his glasses.
That wasn’t the only excitement of the day. As evening approached, we came upon a road block, literally. A bunch of old drunk me
n in a small village had barricaded our route to protest the government not paving the dirt road we were riding on. It wasn’t that big a deal, they let us pass but not the van that was carrying all our stuff. So we left the bikes with the van and carried our stuff by foot. When we finally arrived in the village we were staying in, it was dark and we were exhausted. It was an inconvenience that we weren’t able to bike the last portion of the day, but I feel like my friends got the real Latin American experience. Every day there are strikes and road blocks, it’s part of the way of life down here. I’m glad my friends weren’t completely blinded from the real Peru while sticking to the gringo trail.Dinner was prepared by a local woman. After just a few days, my friends were already complaining about the excess of rice and potatoes they were served. I know I’ve done my fair share of whining about the carb heavy meals here, but it’s a way of life for me. I didn’t see why they couldn’t just suck it up for a week when I‘ve been putting up with it for a year and a half. Stephanie asked me what was and wasn’t okay for her to eat so she could avoid having stomach problems. Being a Californian, we’re so used to eating salads regularly. And while traveling in a less developed country, staying away from salad is safe a way to avoid getting sick the same way as not drinking the water. Having explained this to Stephanie several times before she came, she still asked me every meal if she could eat a salad. And every time I said no, she got mad at me, like it was my fault. Telling her I suffered worse, that I went a whole 3 months without eating salad when I first arrived, didn’t seem to do much to console her.
Apart from the food, the group did a pretty amazing job of rolling with the Peruvian punches. One thing some of the people in the group had a hard time accepting, was the ability to use their credit cards. Coming from the states we have the mentality that we can use a credit card anywhere. My friends were shocked when places like hostels and travel agencies didn’t accept credit cards. Only at one point did someone get really upset that not only did our hostel not accept credit cards, but there wasn’t even an ATM in the town we were staying in. This was completely illogical to this person, but I had to remind them that you can’t apply what you believe to be normal to another countries reality.
Day 2: Hikin'
I was definitely nervous about the physical demands of this trek. I’d heard the trek on average described as “doable but difficult”. I did a trek in the northern Andes back in July. It was just two weeks after I’d run a marathon and the 2 hike was very hard. I was worried because I hadn’t done any real physical activity since that hike in July. Mono 
took a toll on my body. Even at the end of November I could still feel the sickness effecting me. The lack of exercise plus left over mono plus the altitude was a big enough threat to make me start running up and down stairs two weeks before the hike. I thought it might be too late to get in shape, but at least I could shock my legs and get the initial soreness out of the way.
It seemed to work because I didn’t have too hard a time with the incredibly steep, never ending mountains. Day two, our first day of real hiking. The hiking part was definitely challenging, but we took so may breaks at first it was manageable. It seemed like every half an hour we resting. And not just taking quick breathers, we were literally taking a load off. The locals have built a whole system around where the gringos take breaks on their treks. There where hammocks and women selling refreshments every mile.
We had a guide named Luis who led us up the right paths and told us when to take a brea
k. I think their rule as guides is to take it easy on the gringos unless specifically asked other wise. All of the boys were complaining after the first few stops that they didn’t like resting so much. Steph was the only one who admitted she liked all the down time. As far as she was concerned, she worked her butt off all year in an office and only gets two precious weeks off which she was using in in Peru. Since all she does is work, work, work, she wasn’t thrilled that her vacation was strenuous. All the Lucchessi brothers wanted to do was hike harder, drink harder, do everything and sleep as little as possible. All Steph wanted to do was relax, do nothing and sleep 14 hours a day.
The boys raced ahead and Steph took her time with Luis in the back. Luis’ English was okay, but not great. Steph took 3 years of high school Spanish and wasn’t afraid to use it, so they actually had a great time hiking and practicing their language skills. It was really entertaining to her some of the stuff that came out of this girls mouth in an attempt to communicate. I have to lo
ve her for trying though. That is the way to learn a language, not to be afraid of making mistakes and just dive in and talk. It was actually noticeable the amount of Spanish she picked up just from two weeks of traveling. Steph is the kind of person I believe could pick up a language in a relatively short amount of time if fully emerged. Luis, our guide, had an English level that passable but relied on the Spanish speakers in the group to help translate. I wonder if they gave us a guide who was still working on his English because they new we had 4 bilingual people in the group. We actually had more Spanish speakers than non Spanish speakers. There was so much 
double language going on that sometimes I forgot to translate for the non Spanish speakers.
With the boys way ahead and Steph bringing up the rear, I found myself somewhere in-between. For a lot of the hiking I was on my own. I didn’t mind. We were with the group 24 hours a day, a little me time was nice. Especially since given the altitude it made breathing let alone a making conversation very difficult while hiking.
took a toll on my body. Even at the end of November I could still feel the sickness effecting me. The lack of exercise plus left over mono plus the altitude was a big enough threat to make me start running up and down stairs two weeks before the hike. I thought it might be too late to get in shape, but at least I could shock my legs and get the initial soreness out of the way.It seemed to work because I didn’t have too hard a time with the incredibly steep, never ending mountains. Day two, our first day of real hiking. The hiking part was definitely challenging, but we took so may breaks at first it was manageable. It seemed like every half an hour we resting. And not just taking quick breathers, we were literally taking a load off. The locals have built a whole system around where the gringos take breaks on their treks. There where hammocks and women selling refreshments every mile.
We had a guide named Luis who led us up the right paths and told us when to take a brea
k. I think their rule as guides is to take it easy on the gringos unless specifically asked other wise. All of the boys were complaining after the first few stops that they didn’t like resting so much. Steph was the only one who admitted she liked all the down time. As far as she was concerned, she worked her butt off all year in an office and only gets two precious weeks off which she was using in in Peru. Since all she does is work, work, work, she wasn’t thrilled that her vacation was strenuous. All the Lucchessi brothers wanted to do was hike harder, drink harder, do everything and sleep as little as possible. All Steph wanted to do was relax, do nothing and sleep 14 hours a day.The boys raced ahead and Steph took her time with Luis in the back. Luis’ English was okay, but not great. Steph took 3 years of high school Spanish and wasn’t afraid to use it, so they actually had a great time hiking and practicing their language skills. It was really entertaining to her some of the stuff that came out of this girls mouth in an attempt to communicate. I have to lo
ve her for trying though. That is the way to learn a language, not to be afraid of making mistakes and just dive in and talk. It was actually noticeable the amount of Spanish she picked up just from two weeks of traveling. Steph is the kind of person I believe could pick up a language in a relatively short amount of time if fully emerged. Luis, our guide, had an English level that passable but relied on the Spanish speakers in the group to help translate. I wonder if they gave us a guide who was still working on his English because they new we had 4 bilingual people in the group. We actually had more Spanish speakers than non Spanish speakers. There was so much 
double language going on that sometimes I forgot to translate for the non Spanish speakers.With the boys way ahead and Steph bringing up the rear, I found myself somewhere in-between. For a lot of the hiking I was on my own. I didn’t mind. We were with the group 24 hours a day, a little me time was nice. Especially since given the altitude it made breathing let alone a making conversation very difficult while hiking.
Day 2: Winding down
Towards the end of the second day, we found ourselves in the valley of the river Urubamba. We had to cross the river in a two person cart connected by a cable. Of all the things we did on our trip, this is the one that made me the most nervous. I have been in Peru long enough to witness many contraptions such as that one fail. And there are no lawsuits or insurance these companies have to deal with, which is in no way reassuring. Plus, the guide told us some had died on it just 6 months ago. After all had crossed safely, I realized it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. And that 400 meters down the river there was a regular suspension bridge we could have crossed. In the end I’m glad I crossed on the zip line.The day concluded with our arrival at a hot spring. The hot spring was so much better than what I had imagined. It was obviously created for and maintained by the money of tourists. It was one of the nicest looking spa’s I’ve seen in my life, let alone Peru. It was clear spring water in n
atural rock pools. You could bury your feel in the pebbles that made up the floor. The pools backed up into rock cliffs jetting strait up and the view looking out from the other side of pools was breathtaking. Lush green jungle mountains, high and mighty, mysterious yet inviting. We were in the hot springs as the sun went down and misty clouds settled on the mountain tops.This fantasy land wasn’t without flaw. Since it was in jungle part of the mountains, there were massive amounts of mosquitoes. I have a personal vendetta against mosquitoes to the point where I actually make myself paranoid. It’s true, there were mosquitoes everywhere and if you stood outside of the pool, they attacked your bikini exposed skin within seconds.
I had this image of arriving at the hot springs on the second day, exhausted and cold. I pictured soaking my aching bones in the warm waters with a cold beer I hand. Not only was not tired or sore from the trek so far, it wasn’t even cold. At home when I’m too hot in my Jacuzzi, I do an in and out routine to keep myself from over heating. But because of all the mosquitoes, I kept every part of my body underwater, no matter how hot I felt. And they wouldn’t let us bring the beer bottles by the pool. So every 10 minutes or so, I would jump out of the hot springs, sprint over to my stuff and dance around while poundin
g my beer because if I stayed stationary the mosquitoes would bite me.The hot springs weren’t perfect, but I still loved them.
From the hot springs, we were bused into a small village a few miles away. At the hot springs I had drank two 22 ounce beers. At dinner in the town I had a Brazilian cocktail which was pretty strong . That combined with the altitude and the heat from the hot springs, I was really feeling the alcohol. Right as I realized how much the alcohol was hitting me, I also realized my camera was gone. I had definitely left it in the locket at the hot springs. Luis wasted no time in finding a taxi to take us back. He didn’t seem annoyed in the least that I interrupted his dinner. I was really grateful at how he didn’t make me feel guilty. Since we were the last to leave the place they had padlocked the gate at the lockers. I told the security guard I could jump it and he said if I could I was more than welcome to try. I got in no problem, retrieved my camera and impressed the hell out of the security guard.
Back at the restaurant my food was waiting for me. All the hiking, drinking and camera excitement had left me famished. I was so consumed with consuming my food that as I finished I was surprised by a restaurant workers coming towards our table with a birthday cake with candles and singing. I wondered who’s birthday it was without my knowing and before I could ask, they set down the cake in front of me and I realized everyone was singing and looking at me. Very confused, I looked at my friends and told them it wasn’t my birthday, but they just kept singing as if they knew what they were doing. I thought maybe they told the restaurant it was my birthday to get a free cake, so I didn’t say anything more about it not being my birthday.
Turns out, since my friends weren’t here for my birthday back in September, they wanted to celebrate with me 2 months after the fact. It sounds a like a silly thing to do, and it was. But it touched me so much that the thought even occurred to them to try such an elaborate scheme while doing a 4 day trek. When I went to find a camera, they went to find me a cake.
That night the boys went out only until midnight and Steph and I went strait to bed. That was the only night we had to share with a room with Dave and Dan who made us feel good because they went to bed even earlier than we did every night. That night it was hot. We didn’t want to open the windows cause there were no screens and we didn’t want to get eaten by moquitoes. I had killed seven in the room before I got into bed and knew I didn’t kill them all and the paranoia of being bit in the middle of the night didn’t help when I was trying to fall asleep.
Steph and I shared a bedroom one summer in Rhode Island. It was similar in the nights where it was hot and humid and uncomfortable to sleep. We remedied that by sleeping as naked as necessary. The hottest night of the trip was also the only night we shared a room with the Bullon brothers and so therefore had to keep our clothes on. Even though it was the worst of the night sleeps, it was definitely one of the best days, maybe second only to the Machu Picchu day.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Day 3: Hike Till You Drop
I smiled so much on my trip that my face hurt at the end of the days. The cast of Characters we had along for the ride should get their own sitcom. I love Steph because she isn’t over sensitive and, like me, can be made fun of all day long and laugh along with it instead of getting upset. Steph totally got the bulk of the teasing on the trip. It started with her packing. I told steph she was gonna need a back pack for the hiking. She said she didn’t have one so I arranged for her to borrow a friends in Lima. Steph arrives in Peru with a huge rolly, red, suitcase. She brought more clothes for a two week trip than I did my two year service, and I am not over exaggerating.
I questioned her repeatedly why she brought so much stuff. She brought 3 different winter coats, 5 pairs of jeans (I don’t even own 5 pairs of jeans), zebra print flats and fancy to the knee leather boots. She got nicknamed Paris right off the bat. But she realized that for the day hikes, she didn’t have anything to carry her stuff. She found a white hefty garbage back and figured she’s carry that up the mountain. She went from Paris to Hobo overnight. Everyone made fun of her for carrying a plastic bag and told her it wouldn’t last, but she showed them. The plastic bag ended up working great.
Eric even switched to a plastic bag half way through the trek but it didn’t work out as well as Steph’s and he complained like everyone thought Steph would do.
The third day was a day of all hiking. After a three hour climb 800 meters strait up, we reached the top pf a mountain and an old Inca watch post where from you could see the ruins of Machu Picchu. We had a sack lunch there and enjoyed the amazing view. The Lucchessi brothers kept things interesting by sync
ing their ipods to the theme of the Indiana Jones movie and running around the Inca ruins. At one point, Ryan put his Nalgene on an altar rock and reenacted the scene from the movie where he takes the idol by switching his Nalgene bottle with a his lunch sack and then mimicking escaping from several booby traps.After lunch we descended the mountain finally arriving in Hidroelectica where we took a train to Aguas Calientes. Aguas Calientes is the town at the base of Machu Picchu that who’s sole function in this world is to cater to tourists. The hostel we stayed in was far cry from the $1000 a night luxury eco lodge I stayed i
n with my parents 6 months before, but it was still really nice. Our room was right on top of a violently rushing river and the sound of water was defining, but still really cool.In Aguas we were given the fanciest meal of our trip and our last meal with Luis. It seemed like a special night. Our group got along really well and everyone bonded during our 3 day adventure. It was really nice to share that night with my friends. We knew that we had the crown Jewel of our trip the next day, Machu Picchu.
We had to wake up at 4:45 to get make to the ruins for sunrise. This was the one night
the boys went to bed early. Just like the last time I was in Aguas Calientes, I woke up in the middle of the night sick and spent an hour in the bathroom. Maybe that night was worse than the one that was hot with the mosquitoes. But I don’t know. After I was done in the bathroom I feel right asleep and slept soundly with the sound of rushing water filling our room.
Machu Picchu
For some one who spends her peace corps career sleeping in till 9 every morning, this trip was a shock to my system. Every morning we were up at 6, except for the day we went to Machu Picchu when we woke up at 4:45 to try and get there for sunrise. I knew it was sill
y, cause all the mornings had been cloudy and rainy, but we still rushed out of our hostel like a bat out of hell. The boys didn’t even eat breakfast. When we got there it was raining and clouds were sitting on top off the hills so you couldn’t see anything 50 feet away from your face. When it came to be the hour for the sun to rise, nothing happened. It was just like some one was turning on a dimmer switch as the sky went from gray to slightly brighter gray. I could I have stayed in Lima to see that effect. I was thankful that I had been there in June with my parents to see the sun rise over the adjacent mountains. It was so beautiful and mystical but I was also grateful I could be there in December with the mist and fog on the mountains. That too was beautiful and mystical in another way.
In the morning Luis gave us the tour of the sacred city. It was a better, more thoroug
h tour than I had with my parents in June, so it wasn’t all a re-run. We took about 1,000 pictures. Then the boys and I climbed Wayna Picchu, a steep mountain that over looks the ruins. Me and my dad did it two weeks before I ran a marathon and I remember feeling like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. Even though I was no where near in shape the way I was when I climbed it with my dad, but it didn’t even feel challenging this time around. I credit that to the fact that I had been acclimated to the altitude and was actually able to breath this time.
The sun came out around 9 o’clock in the morning and we enjoyed the rest of the warm day and the beautiful views that revealed themselves after the clouds lifted.
On top of the mountain Ryan pulled out an Almond Joy candy bar that he had been saving since Lima. He went out to a club and
danced all night with the candy bar in his shirt pocket and then slept that night without taking it out. There was no real significance behind the candy bar, only that it was ours and we were going to share it as a victory celebration at Machu Picchu. So we ceremoniously feed each other the candy bar because we are complete weirdoes.
We wanted to hike beer up and enjoy a well deserved refreshment from atop Wayno Picchu, but we didn’t get our act together the night before.
All the boys wanted to stay at Machu Picchu as long as humanly possible. We were on the first bus up and they wanted to be on the last bus down. Stephanie however, had no desire to spend the entire day amongst a pile of rocks. Since I had already been to Machu Picchu, I offered to go down to Aguas Calientes and spend the rest of the day doing whatever she wanted.
We had Lunch at the hotel where my parents and I stayed. I ordered a dish that I had been dreaming about for six months, beef tenderloin in a elderberry sauce with a quinoa soufflé. We enjoyed the tranquil setting of the luxury hotel that contrasted the crowded town of Aguas Calientes and it’s slew of cheap hostels.
We decided to top off our Machu Picchu experience by getting a well deserved, full body message. Meanwhile, back at Ruins
, the boys were synchronizing their ipods and running around again to the theme of Indiana Jones. They stayed until the last bus back down to Aguas Calientes where we all met up in the evening and recounted how we had spent the rest of the day.
At 6:30 we boarded a train back to Cusco. The landscape was dark and quite and the train comfortable and peaceful. The entire group for the first time on the trip was silent and lost in thought of the days events. Everyone agreed that we picked the perfect tour and the past 4 days had been one of the most unique experiences of our lives.
Since we had been up since 4:45 in the morning and had a day filled of mountain climbing
and excitement, one might assume that this would be the night the boys would take it easy and go to bed. No No No. The boys had big plans for Cusco that night. After we got off the train in Ollantaytambo and onto a bus, every one fell asleep except for me, Ryan and Rico who were all drinking beer in the back and obnoxiously quoting every movie we could think of. The fun came to a screeching halt when we got to the hostel in Cusco and Ryan realized he had left his wallet and passport on the train. Operation Get Ryan’s Stuff Back was underway. I made about 10 phone calls and did all I could do for the night. But it was nearly midnight and there we would have to wait for the next day. We would have to put our plans to leave for Lake Titicaca in the morning on hold until we got everything back.
y, cause all the mornings had been cloudy and rainy, but we still rushed out of our hostel like a bat out of hell. The boys didn’t even eat breakfast. When we got there it was raining and clouds were sitting on top off the hills so you couldn’t see anything 50 feet away from your face. When it came to be the hour for the sun to rise, nothing happened. It was just like some one was turning on a dimmer switch as the sky went from gray to slightly brighter gray. I could I have stayed in Lima to see that effect. I was thankful that I had been there in June with my parents to see the sun rise over the adjacent mountains. It was so beautiful and mystical but I was also grateful I could be there in December with the mist and fog on the mountains. That too was beautiful and mystical in another way.In the morning Luis gave us the tour of the sacred city. It was a better, more thoroug
h tour than I had with my parents in June, so it wasn’t all a re-run. We took about 1,000 pictures. Then the boys and I climbed Wayna Picchu, a steep mountain that over looks the ruins. Me and my dad did it two weeks before I ran a marathon and I remember feeling like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. Even though I was no where near in shape the way I was when I climbed it with my dad, but it didn’t even feel challenging this time around. I credit that to the fact that I had been acclimated to the altitude and was actually able to breath this time.The sun came out around 9 o’clock in the morning and we enjoyed the rest of the warm day and the beautiful views that revealed themselves after the clouds lifted.
On top of the mountain Ryan pulled out an Almond Joy candy bar that he had been saving since Lima. He went out to a club and
danced all night with the candy bar in his shirt pocket and then slept that night without taking it out. There was no real significance behind the candy bar, only that it was ours and we were going to share it as a victory celebration at Machu Picchu. So we ceremoniously feed each other the candy bar because we are complete weirdoes.We wanted to hike beer up and enjoy a well deserved refreshment from atop Wayno Picchu, but we didn’t get our act together the night before.
All the boys wanted to stay at Machu Picchu as long as humanly possible. We were on the first bus up and they wanted to be on the last bus down. Stephanie however, had no desire to spend the entire day amongst a pile of rocks. Since I had already been to Machu Picchu, I offered to go down to Aguas Calientes and spend the rest of the day doing whatever she wanted.
We had Lunch at the hotel where my parents and I stayed. I ordered a dish that I had been dreaming about for six months, beef tenderloin in a elderberry sauce with a quinoa soufflé. We enjoyed the tranquil setting of the luxury hotel that contrasted the crowded town of Aguas Calientes and it’s slew of cheap hostels.
We decided to top off our Machu Picchu experience by getting a well deserved, full body message. Meanwhile, back at Ruins
, the boys were synchronizing their ipods and running around again to the theme of Indiana Jones. They stayed until the last bus back down to Aguas Calientes where we all met up in the evening and recounted how we had spent the rest of the day.At 6:30 we boarded a train back to Cusco. The landscape was dark and quite and the train comfortable and peaceful. The entire group for the first time on the trip was silent and lost in thought of the days events. Everyone agreed that we picked the perfect tour and the past 4 days had been one of the most unique experiences of our lives.
Since we had been up since 4:45 in the morning and had a day filled of mountain climbing
and excitement, one might assume that this would be the night the boys would take it easy and go to bed. No No No. The boys had big plans for Cusco that night. After we got off the train in Ollantaytambo and onto a bus, every one fell asleep except for me, Ryan and Rico who were all drinking beer in the back and obnoxiously quoting every movie we could think of. The fun came to a screeching halt when we got to the hostel in Cusco and Ryan realized he had left his wallet and passport on the train. Operation Get Ryan’s Stuff Back was underway. I made about 10 phone calls and did all I could do for the night. But it was nearly midnight and there we would have to wait for the next day. We would have to put our plans to leave for Lake Titicaca in the morning on hold until we got everything back.
Cusco to Puno
It’s never fun when somebody looses something on vacation. Ryan had left not only his wallet but his passport as well on the bus. His somberness was contagious and we had all gone to bed a little worried, but hopeful none the less. The next morning all of the phone calls I made paid off. A man brought over all of Ryan’s things in the morning. While the terror one feels when loosing something is awful, the relief that person feels once the items are recovered are so much sweeter.
We had one last breakfast in Cusco with Bullon brothers before we parted ways. The Lucchessi brothers and Bullon brothers really hit it off and were sad to say goodbye. The 5 of us continuing on to Puno had an 8 hour bus ride ahead of us.
Because of the wallet incident, our departure time was pushed back and all of the nice tourist busses had already left in the morning, which mean we had to take a local bus. My friends had the good fortune of seeing a bit more of the “real Peru”. This run down bus stopped every 15 minutes, often times at the side of the road, to pick up and drop off passengers. The people that got off and on were traditional Andean folk, many of them unshowered and lugging on bundles of produce and occasionally animals.
We were in the back of the bus and drinking heavily. At one point, two Peruvian gentlemen filled the last two seats next to Ryan, Steph and Eric, and they offered them a beer and attempted conversation. Rico and I were sitting together in front of them and laughing hysterically at Stephanie and Eric’s attempt to speak Spanish. But I have to give them credit for trying.
The bus stopped so many times it was hard to remain patient. My friends didn’t seem to mind and actually enjoyed their local experience. And finally after a very long bus ride we arrived in Puno and saw the dark outline of Lake Titicaca. Puno is so poor that unlike uber-touristy cusco, we were able to afford a hotel for the same price we paid for a hostel in Cusco. It was after 10 by the time we arrived so Steph went strait to bed and the rest of us went out for a drink.
We had one last breakfast in Cusco with Bullon brothers before we parted ways. The Lucchessi brothers and Bullon brothers really hit it off and were sad to say goodbye. The 5 of us continuing on to Puno had an 8 hour bus ride ahead of us.
Because of the wallet incident, our departure time was pushed back and all of the nice tourist busses had already left in the morning, which mean we had to take a local bus. My friends had the good fortune of seeing a bit more of the “real Peru”. This run down bus stopped every 15 minutes, often times at the side of the road, to pick up and drop off passengers. The people that got off and on were traditional Andean folk, many of them unshowered and lugging on bundles of produce and occasionally animals.
We were in the back of the bus and drinking heavily. At one point, two Peruvian gentlemen filled the last two seats next to Ryan, Steph and Eric, and they offered them a beer and attempted conversation. Rico and I were sitting together in front of them and laughing hysterically at Stephanie and Eric’s attempt to speak Spanish. But I have to give them credit for trying.
The bus stopped so many times it was hard to remain patient. My friends didn’t seem to mind and actually enjoyed their local experience. And finally after a very long bus ride we arrived in Puno and saw the dark outline of Lake Titicaca. Puno is so poor that unlike uber-touristy cusco, we were able to afford a hotel for the same price we paid for a hostel in Cusco. It was after 10 by the time we arrived so Steph went strait to bed and the rest of us went out for a drink.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Lake Titicaca
6:30 the next morning, we were up and ready to take our tour of lake Titicaca. We were picked up from our hotel and boarded a small comfortable boat. Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world that straddles the border of Peru and Bolivia.
Just 45 minutes off the shore of Puno, we reached the floating Uros Islands. These Islands have been around for hundreds of years and are made up of reeds that grow all over the lake. Not only are the islands comprised of reeds but the houses and just about everything else on the Islands are made from these reeds too. They even eat them! We got to try them and they are pretty tastey actually.
Eric, could not seem to wrap his brain around the concept of living on a floating island and didn’t understand why these people didn’t just move to the mainland. I tried to explain to him that he was using his US mentality to try to make sense of the Andean culture. To me it was simple. These people don’t leave the house when they turn 18. Their whole life is their family and they stay with them from cradle to gave. Leaving home is mutinous. But still, it seemed to me the Uros existence on the island was no longer about tradition and all about tourism.
After the floating islands we got back on the boat and went into the lake another 2 hours till we got to a natural island named Taquile which has about 3,000 inhabitants. The City of Puno is incredible isolated. It’s 12,500 feet up in the Andes mountains and very inaccessible. These people were living on an island, 3hours away on a modern boat from Puno. This island is probably the most remote place I have ever been in my life. It was pretty crazy.
My group seemed to love Puno and Lake Titicaca. They thought it was mystical and beautiful. I don’t know why, but Puno made me feel weird. I wasn’t a happy, relaxed tourist as I had been in all the other places we had visited. I couldn’t shake the idea from my head that this place was hopeles
s from a development standpoint. These people lived so poorly and isolated that I couldn't foresee their situation improving in my lifetime.
The original Inca gods are said to have emerged from the waters of Lake Titicaca. For the Andean people, the lake is wrought with folklore and legend. Stephanie loved the floating Islands and Eric was fascinated with the stone arches and history of Taquile island. Lake Titicaca was exactly what I was expecting. And while others were blown away by it’s awesomeness, I must admit that I didn’t find it all that impressive.
There was very little to see or do in the town of Puno. We took some
recommendations from our Lonely planet book and went to bars and restaurants. Since Puno was so poor, everything was very cheap, espeically in comparison to Cusco. We ate some of the best food we had on the entire trip in Puno. The boys found their favorite bar in all of Peru there as well.
We were all so excited to be on a boat. In our trip so far we had taken so many types of transportation: Planes, trains, cars, zip lines, paragliding, walking, hiking swimming, and how we were adding boat.
Just 45 minutes off the shore of Puno, we reached the floating Uros Islands. These Islands have been around for hundreds of years and are made up of reeds that grow all over the lake. Not only are the islands comprised of reeds but the houses and just about everything else on the Islands are made from these reeds too. They even eat them! We got to try them and they are pretty tastey actually.
Eric, could not seem to wrap his brain around the concept of living on a floating island and didn’t understand why these people didn’t just move to the mainland. I tried to explain to him that he was using his US mentality to try to make sense of the Andean culture. To me it was simple. These people don’t leave the house when they turn 18. Their whole life is their family and they stay with them from cradle to gave. Leaving home is mutinous. But still, it seemed to me the Uros existence on the island was no longer about tradition and all about tourism.After the floating islands we got back on the boat and went into the lake another 2 hours till we got to a natural island named Taquile which has about 3,000 inhabitants. The City of Puno is incredible isolated. It’s 12,500 feet up in the Andes mountains and very inaccessible. These people were living on an island, 3hours away on a modern boat from Puno. This island is probably the most remote place I have ever been in my life. It was pretty crazy.
My group seemed to love Puno and Lake Titicaca. They thought it was mystical and beautiful. I don’t know why, but Puno made me feel weird. I wasn’t a happy, relaxed tourist as I had been in all the other places we had visited. I couldn’t shake the idea from my head that this place was hopeles
s from a development standpoint. These people lived so poorly and isolated that I couldn't foresee their situation improving in my lifetime.The original Inca gods are said to have emerged from the waters of Lake Titicaca. For the Andean people, the lake is wrought with folklore and legend. Stephanie loved the floating Islands and Eric was fascinated with the stone arches and history of Taquile island. Lake Titicaca was exactly what I was expecting. And while others were blown away by it’s awesomeness, I must admit that I didn’t find it all that impressive.
There was very little to see or do in the town of Puno. We took some
recommendations from our Lonely planet book and went to bars and restaurants. Since Puno was so poor, everything was very cheap, espeically in comparison to Cusco. We ate some of the best food we had on the entire trip in Puno. The boys found their favorite bar in all of Peru there as well.Saturday night was the boys last day in Peru. They had a flight our Puno at 9 on Sunday morning back to Lima. From Lima they stopped in El Salvedor and finally arrived in San Francisco around midnight. All three of the boys had work that Monday morning. Most people I know, would want a good nights sleep before that, but the Lucchessi brothers. They didn’t sleep at all. Instead, they drank all night long. Ryan knocked on my door at 5 in the morning to tell me all about he was the only white guy in the entire club and amazing his night had been.
They were so drunk at 7 in the morning when the van for the airport came to pick them up. It’s a wonder at all they made every single one of their connections. I was very sad to see them go. There wasn’t a moment with these boys that I wasn’t smiling of laughing. They were the best travel companions I could have asked for.
Stephanie was relieved to see them go so she could start phase II of our trip: the relaxing phase.
They were so drunk at 7 in the morning when the van for the airport came to pick them up. It’s a wonder at all they made every single one of their connections. I was very sad to see them go. There wasn’t a moment with these boys that I wasn’t smiling of laughing. They were the best travel companions I could have asked for.
Stephanie was relieved to see them go so she could start phase II of our trip: the relaxing phase.
The Last Few Relaxing Days
The next few days with Steph was the complete opposite of the way we had been traveling with the boys. We planned nothing and did nothing especially. We spent a day in the City of Arequipa, a beautiful colonial city that made a Puno a distant memory. We spent our time there reading in parks and sitting in restaurants playing cards.
Then we finally descended down the mountains on an overnight bus and back to the coastal desert. We went to Ica, 300 kilometers south of Lima. Ica is known for the famous Nazca Lines, the Balleros Islands aka the poor mans Galapagos and it’s Peru’s wine producing region. Steph and I saw none of that. Instead, we spent the rest of our trip in a desert Oasis known as Huacachina. We laid by the pool for a few days doing nothing besides reading, playing cards and getting to know the fellow travelers.
One of my favorite parts of traveling is meeting new people. But since we were with such a big group for most of our trip, I didn’t interact with many other people than the boys and Steph. Huacachina provided me with the opportunity to make up for the past week of being antisocial.
On the third day we finally did something. We dune buggying and sand boarding. It was really fun and since it is so close to Lima, can’t wait to go back and do it again.
Our epic journey ended very uneventfully. While I would have preferred a bit more excitement on the last leg of our trip, Steph was content with amount of nothingness that we accomplished. After our trip around Peru, Steph saw Lima with brand new eyes. When she first arrived, she didn’t think Lima was all that ni
ce. But after being up in the Andes and seeing places like the tiny villages outside Machu Picchu and “cities” like Puno, Lima seemed like the hub of modernity. Indeed it is for Peru. I can only imagine how she felt when she arrived back in LA. As for me, I was very sad to say goodbye. Steph is one of my best friends and I’m so fortunate to have been able to share my time in the Peace Corps and in Peru with her.
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