tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52912741265739515562024-03-13T11:18:21.706-05:0027 Months in PerúThe adventures, fallbacks, and triumphs of a Peace Corps Volunteer (and now RPCV)Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-69950856679728210082014-06-01T10:50:00.000-05:002014-06-01T15:11:56.342-05:0010 Months Post-Service; El TatuajeBack in the beginning of my Peace Corps experience I first went through a two-and-a-half month Pre-Service Training (PST) that felt more like an extended summer camp than training to be a "change agent" and US ambassador working in development. Let's face it, PST is nothing like actual service. We had long hours of training followed by plenty of homework, we went everywhere in groups, and were packed sack lunches by our training host families. We had a mini internal government comprised of our peers with presidents, vice presidents, treasurers and the like, and the big issues they had to govern were over class rings and t-shirt designs.<br />
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Yes, the first months of what I considered to be one of the most adventurous, daring, independent things I've ever done felt like I was back in high school.<br />
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And back in high school, I would've been a contender, if not a winner, of a t-shirt design contest. So when just that was proposed I started thinking of something I could draw up in my rare and brief free time. Even with my sheltered first weeks in Peru it was very clear the country is quite proud of their rich and extensive culture and heritage, not to mention archaeological sites (which are a huge point of tourism) such as Machu Picchu and the Nazca Lines. The Nazca Lines are these grooves in the ground that span hundreds of feet and connect to make designs that can only be entirely seen from neighboring hilltops or airplanes. These designs are of various different animals and geometric shapes, and are estimated to have been created 400-600 AD. Within moments of entering Peru you're certain to see t-shirts and other knickknacks etched and painted with these designs, most commonly the monkey or the hummingbird. Seeing as how Peace Corps has its own symbolic bird, a dove, I saw the ripe opportunity to not just put a bird on it, but <i>two</i> birds on it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aerial view of the hummingbird Nazca line</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Retro Peace Corps pin, but the design still represents Peace Corps today</td></tr>
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I was quite proud of what I came up with, something simple yet self-explanatory to anyone in Peace Corps Peru. But just like high school, I kind of got distracted, and the next thing I knew we were voting on t-shirt designs and mine wasn't one of them because, well...I forgot to enter it.<br />
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Whoops.<br />
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But soon enough I started to realize I liked the design enough that maybe it was a good thing I didn't enter it into the contest, maybe the design was meant for something else?<br />
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And so I elaborated, I doodled, I played around with the same essential design. Then one day I was inspired by some of the embroidery I had seen on artisan work sold in Peru, leading me to outline my original design with vibrant flowers. And after that moment I knew this was going to be my tattoo.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drawing by me! Amanda Rodgers</td></tr>
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I'm one of those people who's always wanted a tattoo, but could never justify spending the money on it. Every time I save up enough money to get one something comes up where that money could be better spent. Eight years ago I had a tattoo fund that ended up going towards my study abroad in Costa Rica, and after that I realized I will always want to save money for experiences versus things (even if those things are on my skin). So, needless to say, I had no tattoos, and even though I really wanted this particular tattoo, I did not get it as soon as I'd hoped (such as during my service or immediately after finishing it) because experiences (and bills) just kept coming up.<br />
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I've been home 10 months now and this last month was my birthday (my first in the US in three years) and my mom and dad offered to pay for my tattoo as a birthday present. Yes, I'm a grown-ass woman and my parents paid for my first tattoo. The price of living has pretty much locked down my funds for the foreseeable future, and I was never going to spend the money on myself, so it was a pretty awesome birthday present.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished product, by Kassi Lampe at High Priestess Tattoo. I love it!</td></tr>
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I haven't talked to my host family about the tattoo yet. I imagine my host siblings would think it's cool, my host mom would think it's pretty but refrain from comment, and my host dad would throw an absolute fit. When my friend Becky visited Peru (her guest blog post is <a href="http://amandagoespc.blogspot.com/2013/04/memories-mammaries-and-diarrhea-guest.html" target="_blank">Memories, mammaries, and diarrhea; A guest blog from my BFF Becky</a>) I was lectured by proxy for all of her tattoos. In Peru once you get a tattoo, you are no longer allowed to donate blood again--<i>ever.</i> Also, in the <i>campo</i> blood banks are not much of an option, so any blood transfusions or donations come directly from someone with the appropriate blood type, more often than not your family members. Therefore, if you get a tattoo, you can no longer give blood to your family in a time of need. Despite my attempts to explain to my host dad that in the US tattoos are not regulated the same way and the blood donation system is completely different, his experiences and beliefs wouldn't let him see tattoos as anything but a selfish, reckless act. So, that phone conversation is going to be interesting.<br />
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I decided to have the tattoo on my arm because I want to be able to see the design I created during some of the hardest times in my Peace Corps service. I could go on and say a bunch of mushy stuff about how Peace Corps changed my life, about how a day hardly goes by that I don't think about my community, host family, or volunteer friends, or how much stronger, compassionate, and capable I feel as a person after serving....but you probably all already knew all that. And as long as I have skin on my arm and eyes to see, I'll have a constant reminder.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-77500636736326496042014-04-25T22:45:00.000-05:002014-04-25T22:45:24.356-05:009 months as a RPCV and working on Goal 3Even though I've been home for 9 months, I feel that I'm just now starting to get settled in and involved with Goal 3 activities here in the US. (Peace Corps has three goals, and Goal 3 is to help promote understanding of the volunteer's host country to people in the USA.) I will admit, while Goal 3 is an important aspect of being a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, it seems like an extremely daunting task at times. There's a reason we were encouraged to come up with an "elevator speech" about our service, as there is quite a bit of disparity between all of the things one could say about their two-year service and the attention span of those listening. I have often felt I'm unable to paint the full picture (or I paint the completely wrong one) while casually talking about my service. Sadly it isn't uncommon for people to misinterpret my explanations of the conditions I lived in or the realities of life in Peru as things that would mare my experience. This leads them to say things such as, "Jeez, I never want to go there!" or ask, "Man, did you enjoy any of your service?" and the slightly discriminatory but well meaning, "Welcome back to civilization!" Of course this is kind of heartbreaking and frustrating for me, because when I say, "We often didn't have electricity or running water, and many volunteers didn't have running water at all," I didn't mean, "I was living in a hell-hole and it was terrible." I'm just trying to explain that this is the reality of the majority of the world we live in, and the bathroom situation didn't effect how I connected to people or learned to love a culture that wasn't my own. I know everyone is well meaning, I just feel like I'm doing a disservice to Peru when the outcome of my conversation is something like the aforementioned. So, as you can see, Goal 3 can be overwhelming, but the misconceptions about developing countries in the world make it all the more important to talk about and work on.<br />
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However, for every 10 people who don't "get it" there is at least one who does. I especially enjoy it when these people pop up in the most random places. Like the stranger at a coffee shop who noticed my Peace Corps patch on my bag and talked to me for 20 minutes, or meeting another RPCV or parent of a RPCV in the choir I joined. I started attending an Advanced Conversation Spanish class at the community college to keep my language abilities up (sadly you can lose a second language pretty quickly without practice). After introducing myself not only did I find out there were two other RPCV's in the class, but my teacher is Peruvian (from Cajamarca, a department right next to Lambayeque where I served) and met her husband while he was serving as one of the first Peace Corps Volunteers in her region in the 60's. I gave her so many hugs, I was so excited! We talked about Peruvian food and customs and she asked me to bring in pictures and things I had brought back to show the class. She possesses the quick and warm acceptance that I came to know from so many Peruvian mothers in my community and of fellow volunteers, and I felt so at home. Meeting her and taking her class once a week has helped me feel so much more connected to Peru, and I love hearing stories from the other RPCV's who served in the 60's in South America.<br />
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That is another incredible aspect about being a Peace Corps Volunteer; when you join you become part of a family, a brother/sisterhood, that extends beyond your two year service. Whether you served in Malaysia or Jamaica, in 1962 or 2012, there is a bond, and I am really starting to see that as I meet other RPCV's. Just yesterday I went to a Peace Corps event at Oregon State University that was a "Send-Off" party for invitees entering into service, as well as a chance for applicants, nominees, and people interested to come and learn more about Peace Corps. It was this time three years ago that I was attending events like this before leaving for Peru, all bright eyed and a ball of nerves talking to RPCV's about their service and trying to glean any sort of understanding of what I was getting into from their stories. And now I am one of those RPCV's, trying to give sage advice and a little bit of reality without overwhelming anyone, and maybe romanticizing things a bit. Other RPCV's were there, even other Peru RPCV's. It reminded me how awesome the PC community is and how happy I am that I will always have it.<br />
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These chance encounters and finding this community of people has been very comforting, and it may sound ridiculous, but I feel like I'm finally feeling more readjusted to US life. I still dream about Peru often, I'm still the person over-bundled and cold in "warm" temperatures, and Peru is never far from my mind. I hope it never is. But things feel a little easier as Justin and I spend time with friends and family, and work on our first garden together at our house. It probably doesn't hurt that I have finally gotten a job and as of May 5th I will no longer be unemployed! I will be working in admitting at the hospital. It will give me some good office experience in a medical/health setting, as well as opportunities to use my Spanish. Being unemployed for over nine months has been really stressful and maddening, but it has had its benefits and given me time to settle back in.<br />
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I'm looking forward to start my first job post-Peace Corps and learn some new skills, and in the not too distant future I'll be celebrating a whole year back home in the US. Hard to believe how the time has passed, and sometimes I feel antsy to return to visit my site, but I know I will get my chance in time. In the past months I have worried a lot about losing touch with the experience and the people involved, but I'm starting to see that things won't fall away and be erased so easily. Hopefully I'll have more opportunities to meet up with other RPCV's in the near future, as well as opportunities to work on Goal 3 to help others understand <i>mi querido Perú. </i>Lucky for me, as far as that is concerned, I will have the rest of my life.<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-24763201846693468132014-02-17T15:08:00.002-05:002014-02-18T10:20:14.082-05:00Moving along; subconscious and conscious battlesThere was a long time when I first got to Peru when my dreams hadn't quite caught up with my physical location yet. They preserved home in this perfect technicolor world that I could visit at the end of each exhausting day. On more than one occasion I would wake from a dream in which I had just been dining at my favorite restaurant, laughing with my boyfriend and friends, or walking the grounds of my parent's home, and I wouldn't know where I was. My mind had travelled so far away it would take a second before I realized where I was and what I was doing there before I would feel the deep pains of homesickness sink in.<br />
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After some time in site this started to change. Peru would make its way into my dreams in small ways, never fully taking over. The trash-- the miles and miles of trash I would pass on the drive to my site-- made its way into my dreams first it seemed. It sprinkled the periphery of everywhere I went. It progressed as other things changed. I would be "home" in the US, but the houses would be adobe or concrete. I would walk down the street of my college town on the crumbling, sometimes non-existent, sidewalks I walked everyday in site. I would speak Spanish with random strangers that would pop into a scene with my family, or I would be riding a <i>combi</i> with my boyfriend. And in time, my dreams were all Peru. Suddenly nothing in my dreams was free of some distinctly Peruvian feature.<br />
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Dreams are so personal and individual, but there are always the common stress dreams people get, like public nudity or teeth falling out. Peace Corps seemed to have its own. A common stress dream many volunteers had during service, or a variation of, was the "I went home and didn't tell anybody" dream. I would dream of these less-than-24-hour trips back to the US where upon arrival I would realize I hadn't actually told anyone back in Peru I was leaving, making my visit the ultimate illegal vacation. Peace Corps had invaded my dreams so much that I couldn't even dream of a visit home without the proper paperwork.<br />
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Now that I've been home for about seven months, I'm realizing the odd reversal of all of this. Peru still exists in my dreams, in some form, every single night. Sometimes it's in the architecture of the buildings, a lot of times it's in the dirt roads speckled with trash. A random stranger, if not my host family, will still require me to speak Spanish on at least a weekly basis. A lot of times Peru exists in the people I knew there, visiting my dreams to remind me I left them behind. Literally, they complain about me leaving them behind, which is so apropos to Peruvian culture.<br />
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I even have a regular stress dream that seems to be the sister to my previous "going home" stress dreams from service: I've finished my visit home, and it's time to go back to Peru to finish my work. Like I'm still a volunteer and this whole time I've been home it wasn't to stay, and I was always going to go back to Peru to keep working eventually.<br />
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Last night I had the ultimate of these stress dreams. I arrived in my regional capital and it was like the second I got there I realized I hadn't brought presents for anyone. I had spent all this time in the US and I hadn't brought anything back! <i>¡Ingrata!</i><br />
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It's a really bittersweet thing. The dreams feed off of my worries; I'm visited by visions and people that ask me why I left them behind--or make me ask myself why I left it all behind-- and they break my heart a little. It's like a different kind of homesickness. But even though it kind of torments me, I'm afraid to stop dreaming about Peru. I'm afraid once I stop dreaming about it, I'll start forgetting about it. A large part of me is very afraid to lose not just the relationships and Spanish, but the small things that made Peru and the experience so incredibly unique.<br />
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I received a letter from one of my fellow RPCV's from Peru 17, and I feel like she put so perfectly what I had been thinking but couldn't quite put into words. She wrote:<br />
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"I guess part of me is afraid that I will lose that piece of Peru that I promised my community, and myself, that I would <i>llevar en mi corazón para siempre</i>. It's a strange fear. Obviously I will never forget Peru and everything I gained and learned from the experience. But how do I move on without leaving the little things that made the experience what it was? After all, one of Peace Corps' best lessons is that it's the small stuff that matters most."<br />
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My dreams seem to be that part of me speaking out; I want to move on, but I don't want to leave it behind. I want to honor my Peace Corps service and Peru and the relationships I formed and the lessons I learned, but I also need to live here and now. And like I said in my last blog, it's becoming a process that is much longer and in-depth than I ever expected.<br />
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Honestly, I don't know when Peru and the people I associate with it are going to stop invading my subconscious. I imagine the process will be like the process while I was there. It's very possible that in a year's time there won't be any of Peru in my dreams at all. And that thought makes me sad. But it's nice to know I'm not alone in this feeling, and I know that even if the dreams stop I'll always have others to remind me of what I'm so worried to forget.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-41498040667732544452014-01-24T10:47:00.003-05:002014-01-24T10:54:15.935-05:00Premonitions and life lessons; a 6-month-post-service updateToday marks six months since the day I left Peru. It seemed like an appropriate milestone to write a post about, and to start I want to tell you a little story.<br />
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This story didn't take place in the last six months. It didn't happen in Peru, either. It actually happened just four months shy of leaving the US and embarking on my two-year journey in Peace Corps. I considered not making it public knowledge (you'll soon see why), but after some reflection it seems appropriate.<br />
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It was early spring of 2011 in western Oregon, the sky a constant dull gray and days only changing from rain to mist to rain again. I worked at a coffee shop and distracted myself from leaving for Peace Corps by marathon training and keeping my hair a fiery "hot-tamale" red with nearly obsessive straight bangs. Anything, really, to make me feel like I was in control. But those things could only distract me so much. It was as if I was sliding down a hill that suddenly dropped off as a cliff, and I was clutching at anything to keep me in place. And it was in these gray, rainy days as I grew nearer my departure date into the great unknown that I visited a psychic in Portland.<br />
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(I could hear your eyes rolling from here. Humor me and read on.)<br />
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I went to a reputable psychic, a beautiful and tall middle-aged woman whose clairvoyant powers lay in touch, or clairsentience. And so after sitting in her cozy and warm office with the sound of water trickling through an indoor fountain and a recording of classical piano echoing from another room, she held my favorite pair of earrings and asked me what I wanted to know.<br />
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I suppose I could've asked all the traditional questions: questions of my love life, my career, my future family (alright, I eventually did ask those questions too, it was an hour long session after all. But that's not the point). I only went there, though, for one question:<br />
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Was I going to be okay?<br />
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Peace Corps was something I had wanted to do for years before I actually applied. It was a nagging at the back of my mind, the poking finger that told me I really didn't know my own strength until I'd pushed myself further. It was initially a point of contention with my parents, and over time they gave me their blessing. But then, weeks before I received my invitation to go to Peru, <i>Dateline </i>aired a piece on the ugly side of Peace Corps and sexual assault/rape incidences and lack of support for the victims. Suddenly everything was thrown into question and I almost withdrew my application. I came face-to-face with a very real risk as a woman volunteer that I had refused to address. In the end, despite fears and worries for my safety, I accepted my invitation. And in accepting I felt like I was opening myself up to a whole new world of danger and hurt unlike I had ever known. It was incredibly frightening.<br />
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And so even though there is no way that anyone can truly know, I needed to know-- would I be okay? Would I be safe during my Peace Corps service?<br />
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She closed her clear blue eyes briefly, peacefully, and upon opening them looked directly into mine and said, "You're going to be fine. You will be safe. You are intuitive, and that intuitiveness will help you take care of yourself and to know when a situation is good or bad. You will meet some of the most amazing people, and they will change your life for the better. The people there will be in awe of how tall you are. They'll love you, and you'll love them. This is going to be a wonderful, life changing experience for you. I see nothing but good coming from it."<br />
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I took these words, whether because I wanted to believe them or I needed to believe them, and I held them close to me always. There were times as I travelled or walked alone in the city and had that nervous, alertness that could so easily slip into fear when I told myself, "you will be safe, you will be aware, you will know when a situation is bad." There were days during training and in site when I hated every single person around me and wanted nothing more than to be alone and I told myself, "these could be amazing people that will change your life for the better." When I fretted over arriving in my site and whether I would do a good job, or simply whether I should be there at all, I said, "they'll love you, and you'll love them." This was my mantra. Sometimes I didn't believe it. A lot of times, actually. Sometimes saying it was the only thing that kept me from giving up.<br />
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Everything she said came true. And honestly, I don't really care if it was a real prediction or an optimistic guess. I needed it to be true, and it became my truth.<br />
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Now, post-Peace Corps, returning home...she didn't say anything about this period of time. Then again, I didn't ask. I never gave a whole lot of thought to what life after Peace Corps would be like, because why wouldn't it just be awesome? Being home with loved ones? Accomplishing a life goal and real-world experience under my belt? The backyard BBQs with fresh cut grass, drinking clean water straight out of the tap, walking down the street without a single eye on me or comment on my appearance....Why would I worry about that time? I knew reverse-culture shock was hard and that I would be sad to leave Peru, but this...this is something no one could've prepared me for. Even after people told me I could flail, I could flop, I could go months without a job, I just didn't know.<br />
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I was warned that "coming home is the hardest part." But I never thought I'd be going on six-months of unemployment, unable to even get an interview for office jobs answering phones. I didn't predict that I would feel so worthless and useless while remembering the hard, frustrating, but meaningful work I did in my host-community. I had no idea isolation and loneliness in my own home, in my own country, could outweigh what I felt in a completely foreign land. Adjusting isn't just remembering to put your toilet paper in the toilet, or to shake hands as opposed to kissing. It doesn't have to do with table manners, or the inflection in your voice as you ask for a favor, or showing up on time to meetings. It is learning how to live with who you are now, where you are now, with everything you've come to know and be. It's coming to terms with your beautiful and ugly memories. It's forgiving yourself for the things you can't change about your service, and forgiving those around you for simply not understanding. I spent two years adjusting to a completely different life, with different friends, and it was really good and really bad and utterly life changing. And then literally overnight, I was home. I'm back where I was, but I can't just go back to who I was or what I was doing. I don't know how to fit who I've become into where I am. And I foolishly thought a lot of those simple cultural things would be the only things in my way to readjustment.<br />
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And to be honest, admitting all of this is kind of embarrassing, like admitting I paid a psychic to make me feel better about a huge life-changing decision. I hate that this is so much harder than I ever expected and that I haven't figured my shit out yet. I hate that I don't have a job or some kick-ass plan to save the world or really any sort of plan that makes me at least look like I know what I'm doing.<br />
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So that's what I'm doing right now. I'm pretty lost, really lonely, extremely frustrated, and trying not to be like Uncle Rico from <i>Napoleon Dynamite,</i> bragging about high school football and stuck in the past.<br />
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I've considered going back to the same psychic. I'm ravenous for any sort of consolation, anything to hold onto. I need to know good things will eventually start happening, that I will eventually get a job, that I will serve a purpose, that the dust will settle from this two-year cloud. I know this can't last forever, but when will it end?<br />
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I have a feeling I know what she'd say. I can already picture her peacefully close her eyes, and upon opening them look into mine and say, "You're going to be fine."Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-86674363254758024582013-09-19T14:42:00.000-05:002013-09-20T09:35:43.935-05:00Losses, gains, and rediscovering community. Every time I was away from my Peruvian town, whether I was on a weekend trip to my regional capital or a vacation, there always came a point where I felt a sudden nagging:<br />
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It's time to get back to site.<br />
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And at two months since I've been back in the USA, the inner guilty feeling of, "It's time to get home and get back to work," has been going off the charts. Only I'm not going back to work in my small town in Peru. I have no projects that need tending or <i>socios</i> that need rousing, and my host family isn't expecting me home for dinner. I'm not a Peace Corps Volunteer anymore, and haven't been for awhile. This changes the feeling of nagging guilt to a feeling of loss. A loss of community, a loss of friendship and family, and mostly a loss of identity.<br />
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So where am I at all this time after being home? Am I readjusted? Well, yes and no. The US is no longer the strange home I had been missing with sudden glaring characteristics I hadn't noticed before, but certain aspects of it have yet to seem "normal." I no longer eat like I'm on a weekend binge in my regional capital, scarfing down everything I missed for two years, but certain food items like cheese and salad never fail to make me feel blessed. Grocery stores no longer bring me to tears with the overwhelming variety and excess, but I still only buy the same few items every time I go as my stomach can't handle the richness of anything else.<br />
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People don't really ask about Peru anymore but instead ask, "So, what're doing now?" Even when I call my host family to check up on them they ask, "Did you get a new job yet?" I try my hardest not to start every sentence with, "When I was in Peru..." And so I try to talk about things like the jobs I'm applying for to reassure everyone that I am, indeed, moving on.<br />
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And life here makes sure of that. Everything and everyone is on such a strict timeline that they actually follow (imagine that). Everything is so expensive, I watch my readjustment fund I received after completing service slowly trickle away, like an hourglass telling me, "Time is almost up, you need a job."<br />
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While day-to-day isn't the constant roller coaster Peace Corps life is famous for, it has hardly been an easy unicorn ride over the rainbow. Within a two week time period both my grandfather and a friend passed away. I have had a lot of blessings and things to be grateful for, but also there has been a lot of loss and grieving. Readjusting in the midst of tragedy is a hard thing to do, and finding some sort of "normalcy" seems like a joke.<br />
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But I haven't been suffering these losses alone. A bittersweet part of losing a loved one and grieving is the feeling of community that comes with it. It brings people together to mourn and remember. My family will be reuniting to honor and celebrate my grandfather's life. People from all over are coming together to mourn the loss of a shared friend in my town. And I should add, I'm glad I am home for this. I of course wish these losses never happened, but I would rather be home than in a different country unable to connect and mourn with those around me.<br />
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While I have "lost" my place and sense of identity as a Peace Corps Peru Volunteer, I am once again, like my whole service, not alone in my feelings. I have a community of RPCV friends who finished their service as well and are readjusting to American life. Maybe they're on the other side of the country, but they are going through many of the same feelings. And while I am missing my Peruvian community I have come home to my family and friends that were waiting with open arms the whole time. Maybe it was a strange re-entry, maybe I felt out of place and awkward, but they saved a place for me all along.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-1429096283621065172013-08-05T12:48:00.000-05:002013-08-05T15:46:33.017-05:00Parking lots, gaining weight, and speaking English--or Reuniting with 'MericuhDuring the entirety of my Peace Corps service I never went home to visit-- no Christmas vacations, no weddings, no family emergencies (thankfully), no visits whatsoever-- so the first time I was reunited with my family and homeland was the day after my close of service.<br />
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I had been warned sufficiently that while culture shock and adapting to Peru would be difficult, going home and reverse culture shock would be much worse. I already had a small taste of this on the returns from my study abroad to Costa Rica and Spain, but I didn't know what to imagine after over two years of being separated from my home and US culture.<br />
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Most people have been pretty understanding that going from living in a third-world country back to the US wasn't going to be easy, and is probably pretty weird. However there are just as many people who don't really seem to understand why. After all, I grew up in the US, people here speak my first language, what's to get used to? What's the adjustment?<br />
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Well, I'm going to tell you.<br />
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<b>Speaking English all the time is weird</b><br />
Maybe it was the fact that I'd just left Peru and said goodbye to my Peace Corps experience and was on an overnight flight with my seat at a 90º angle, but I cried in the Houston airport, mostly because I didn't know what language to speak.<br />
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In the past two years I only spoke English with other volunteers and on the phone with people back home. Otherwise day-in and day-out I spoke Spanish. So it's safe to say 99% of my interactions with strangers over the last two years have been in Spanish, and suddenly I was faced with customs and they were asking me questions in English and my brain was having a really hard time just remembering common courtesies and things to say to strangers in English. It didn't matter that English is my first language, my brain was prepared with responses in Spanish and the switch wasn't easy. And then to hear English all over the place, well that was just too much! My ears have been trained to perk up when I hear my mother tongue, so suddenly my head was going into overdrive as <i>everyone</i> spoke it.<br />
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<b>Customer service people are way too friendly.</b><br />
There is nothing like customer service in the US. Seriously, nothing. There were definitely times in Peru when the waitress was practically glaring at us from across the room while we waited to be served, or I stood outside a bodega banging a coin on the metal bar of the front window yelling, "¡SEÑO!" over and over again for 5 minutes waiting for someone to come out and let me buy something.<br />
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So when a waitress doesn't just want to take my order but makes inquiries about what I've been up to all day, or the barista at Starbucks asks my mom and I if we're having a "mother-daughter day," my first reaction is, "What's it to you?" I used to work in customer service so I should be a little more understanding, but it's been surprising. I'm also pretty sure every waitress has been hitting on my boyfriend in front of me, but I could be wrong.<br />
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<b>There are a lot of parking lots and paved things.</b><br />
Need I say more? I can't get over how there are so many parking lots. Within the first 24 hours of being home I grew a disdain for them that I never felt before. Not to mention how weird it is that everything is paved. The town I lived in had one paved road and it was the main highway that ran through it.<br />
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<b>There are way too many choices and products in grocery stores</b><br />
I've heard a lot of stories of people coming home from third-world countries and stepping into grocery stores only to cry at the large variety, because going from having one choice of cereal to 50 can be extremely overwhelming.<br />
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I thought this wouldn't happen to me because in the cities in Peru they have big grocery stores like in the US, the only difference being products and expensive imported food from the US (like M&M's). At least a couple times a month I would visit them and splurge on something simple like a bag of picante mixed nuts or a Snickers bar.<br />
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So my first time in an Albertson's as I went to gather some food for a BBQ I surprised even myself as I crumbled into tears after wandering the aisles for 10 minutes and ending up with only one thing in my hand. I couldn't find any of the food I used to buy in Peru, and 50% of the food in the store was a processed product I'd never heard of. All I wanted was to find one pepper I used to eat everyday in Peru and when I realized I wouldn't find it, but there were a ton of products I could never think of a use for in bright and shiny packages, it made me pretty sad.<br />
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<b>American food is both delicious and dangerous</b><br />
I think I've gained 10lbs in the last week and a half. And I wish I was kidding. Yes, the US is filled with food I've never heard of and don't know if I'll ever eat, but it is also filled with yummy food I've missed so much. And I have gorged myself on it. And I've gotten really sick. My body has gone into shock over the richness of the food here. Everyday in Peru I ate rice two meals a day accompanied by a pretty bland piece of meat and legume or bean. But over time that blandness started to taste pretty good and full of flavor. And then I came home and ate food here and it was like an explosion in my mouth---and my stomach.<br />
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<b>I miss my host mom's cooking, or mostly that I didn't have to cook</b><br />
In Peru I didn't make my meals, I ate all of them with my host family, and I didn't have a say on what we ate. There were a few times I made food for the whole family, but my host mom and host sister made all the meals, and my only job was to be at the table on time to eat what had been prepared. Being an adult who had made my own food for several years it was a hard adjustment to lose control over what and when I ate. And then it just became life.<br />
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Now every meal is up to me. I have to decide what to eat, I have to go to a huge store to buy the food, and I have to prepare it. That was fun for about four days. So much more goes into preparing a meal here! Food is so expensive! In my site there was a small market and a few bodegas and my host family bought all of the basic un-cooked ingredients, like dry beans and a bag of rice. If you wanted meat you went to the <i>carniceria</i> and said "half a chicken" and they literally chopped a chicken in half for you right there, or "beef loin" (if they had beef that day) and they cut the loin off a huge leg hanging from a meat hook. Plus there was just more time to make all of the food from scratch.<br />
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Now I'm trying to balance fresh produce with processed products and the ethical production of that food and I'm looking at these plastic wrapped boneless chicken parts and I'm wondering, "where did this chicken come from?"<br />
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<b>I feel like I entered an alternate dimension</b><br />
There's this weird paradox about "home" when you're gone for a long time-- it both stays the same and changes. The things that stay the same make you feel like you've never left, and the things that have changed remind you that life has definitely gone on in your absence. Now I just I feel like I've somehow taken this weird quantum leap into an alternate dimension. Or that I'm dreaming. Either way, it's strange, and I'm not quite sure where I fit into this alternate universe yet.<br />
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<b>I feel like I'm on vacation</b><br />
I haven't quite shaken the feeling yet that this is temporary and that I'm going back to Peru soon.<br />
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<b>I say "yes" when I mean "no"</b><br />
In Peru it's rude to say "no," so even when you have no intention of working on a project with someone or meeting up with them, you say "yes." I was really frustrated about this in Peru, but I started adopting it, too. If someone invited me to a party I said, "yeah, I'll be there!" and then never showed up. And that was okay. That is not okay in the US. That is flaky. My boyfriend has had to remind me multiple times to be straight forward with people about my plans because, guess what? People don't get offended here if you already have something going on that day, but they will get offended if you blow them off.<br />
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<b>Small children don't run to me for hugs and tell me how pretty I am</b><br />
Surprisingly much more depressing than I thought it would be. There are some quirks to sticking out and getting a lot of attention, and that is small children want to hug you and are nice to you. If I were to hug someone's child here I'd probably get arrested.<br />
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<b>Other random things:</b><br />
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<ul>
<li>People don't greet with a kiss here. Whoops.</li>
<li>Pulling your debit card out of your bra gets you weird looks.</li>
<li>People are very active, always riding bikes and running somewhere. Makes me feel lazy.</li>
<li>Everything is so nice and feels like a resort, which exacerbates my "vacation" feeling. </li>
<li>My mouth is torn apart from eating chips and cold cereal (which I rarely ate in Peru).</li>
<li>I avoid men on the street/prepare myself for harassment from men in public.</li>
<li>I still have a hard time not throwing my toilet paper in the trash.</li>
<li>It's so quiet here. I have to stop myself from filling the silence with loud music. </li>
<li>Life is so much more predictable here, yet people get upset when things don't go as they expect.</li>
<li>Everything smells so good. Idaho smells good. Oregon smells good. Trees smell good. I love it.</li>
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So yeah. The US of A is my country, my homeland, and I've spent 88.9% of my life here. That doesn't mean it's easy to slip right back into things. Even if things stayed exactly the same while I was gone, I've changed, and those changes in me are going to cause friction with the way life was before I left. </div>
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It's kind of fun though. Seeing your own country and home through new eyes helps create change that maybe was needed all along. I don't have to slip back into the old me, and at the same time I don't have to completely change everything. I get to find something in between and that's an adventure in itself. </div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-88797174880374995852013-08-02T12:12:00.003-05:002013-08-05T12:48:45.087-05:00Goodbye sucks, and other revelations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two plus years of service crammed into two bags plus a backpack</td></tr>
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I can't believe it, but this blog post is being written in the USA as I am now officially a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. I finished my service in Peru on July 24th, I'm home visiting family and friends, and I've been back on US soil for a week. And it's weird. I really wanted to post one last time in Peru before I left because I anticipated there would be a storm of new emotions and things going on the second I left that would be stories of their own, but this will have to do. It's just too much for one post to talk about the end of one life and the beginning of a new one.<br />
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My last week in site was overwhelming and filled with parties and teary goodbyes, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to everyone I wanted to. It's so hard to just get up and leave from two-years of relationships and experiences, so of course it didn't go exactly as I wanted, but I left with my heart overfilled. I had a series of farewell parties thrown for me ranging from the high school, to a friend's host family in a neighboring town, to the municipality. The last week in my site was one big party filled with kind words, occasionally booze, and tears. Lots and lots of tears. (Pictures below--yes, even of the tears).<br />
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Of course some people were harder to say goodbye to than others. My host family, my really good counterparts who became my friends, my volunteer friends, and the kids from my health promoters youth group. Saying goodbye to 14 and 15 year-olds is hard because you just don't know what's going to be next for them. I can't be there for the graduation of my oldest students, I can't be with the other students as they get older and move closer to their graduation. Are they going to stay out of trouble? Are they going to finish high school? What are they going to do after high school? What is going to happen to them? I invested a lot of time and energy into relationships with these kids who are still very much in the development stage of figuring themselves out and anything could tip them in a different direction. The adult friends I made will probably have very few differences between now and the next time I see them, but the kids could become completely different people. </div>
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This if course spun me off into thinking of all the things I could've done better during my service. No matter what you have done, there is always a way to do it better. My last week of service was filled with a lot of strong feelings and emotions, but battling off the feeling of regret was something I dealt with constantly. Did I do everything I could have? Did I try hard enough? </div>
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Could I have ever done enough?</div>
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Like I said, it was (and still is) a battle, but I know I did what I could with what I had and what's done is done. Also, it helped to have people in my community tell me a lot of nice things I never expected to hear. A friend of mine who finished service before me said in the end of your service a bunch of people come out of the woodwork and you find out how people have felt about you and your work that you didn't know before. I've said it before, but being a volunteer is a pretty thankless job and you almost never get any sort of accolades. However in my last week of service I received more than I ever expected. Teachers whom I barely worked with told me with ernest how much of an impact I had on the students. Mother's from my <i>escuela de padres</i> told me how important my work was and how lucky their kids were to have me working in the school. People showered me with presents and kind words and it kept going on like that as people learned I was leaving.</div>
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But more than the kind words and presents I received as I was parting, the relationships I created in my last two years are a testament to what my time spent in Peru has meant. The people in my site and my host family will always be in my heart, and I think I'll be the same for them. Of course saying goodbye to my host family was extremely difficult. My host mom gets pretty emotional pretty easy (she always calls herself "<i>llorona</i>") so a lot of tears were shed there. My host dad stayed stoic to the end only demonstrating his emotional strife through excessive household projects that he worked on constantly up until the minute I left the house. He did leave me with various parting words, all of which came back to the same theme: I'm part of the family, and I am always welcomed (and expected) back at the house in the future. </div>
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Saying goodbye sucks. And being separated from a life and friendships that you built from basically nothing over a two-year span in a foreign country is jarring and sad. Preparing yourself to leave and return home where people may not understand all of that is also hard.</div>
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All of this sadness in leaving just goes to show how much of a positive experience I've had in Peace Corps, and I really do think it goes both ways. One day I was sitting with my good friend Lupe, the obstetrician who worked with me in my health promoters youth group, and she was talking about how sad it was that I was leaving (Peruvians really like to drag out the "How sad that you're leaving. Oh how terribly sad, you're leaving a hole in our hearts, etc etc"). I was just nodding and agreeing and trying not to bawl my eyes out, and then she said something that I didn't expect but really stuck. She said, "Everyone is going to miss you so much. Did you know that everyone really likes you? I don't know a single person that can say anything bad about you. Before you came everyone thought [US] americans were rude, cold, disinterested people. But now that everyone has met you they can see that isn't true."</div>
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I know it isn't much, but that is Peace Corps Goal #2! "Helping promote a better understanding of Americans." Somehow knowing that helped me battle back some of the regret. I told Lupe how that is one of Peace Corps' goals, and now I'm heading home to work on goal #3, to promote understanding of Peru to my fellow Americans. </div>
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On paper that is Peace Corps; three simple goals, two years, one country. But it's all the stuff in between that makes a Peace Corps service, and it's different for every single person who has done it over the last 52 years. Do I think I'll ever be able to do it justice in writing? Will I ever be able to give a "five-minute elevator speech" that truly conveys what my service was about?</div>
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Simply put, no. But maybe I'm not supposed to. Nothing will change what my time in Peru has meant for me, and I can only do so much to explain things to others who have never been there. But if I can get my small Peruvian town to think US Americans aren't a bunch of jerks, then maybe I can get the US Americans I know to understand a little about Peru and it's people and what my life was like there. The beauty of it is while I closed the chapter of my life when I was a PCV, I will forever be an RPCV, so I have time. </div>
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<span style="color: #20124d;">The multiple <i>despedidas</i> thrown for me and the kind words said about me were more than I ever expected, and too varied to go into detail. Here are some pictures from a few of them.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My despedida at the high school. I'm sitting at the head table with one of my main counterparts and the director of the school. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The students arranged some different performances for me. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back chalkboard was decorated and signed by all the teachers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOm74M04BjgMZrnvKkLlFPT8AueMNGwFsjYOpyoPPG-3fOkHyZh3A6xuQDsEVmsH5MoN-9ly0om6YtT8fPzbngE5KY_pYUSclQBYjE_Ix01-mCKZLerZD738-cdUTXeLmdp2A7yVKYpIx/s1600/P1010892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOm74M04BjgMZrnvKkLlFPT8AueMNGwFsjYOpyoPPG-3fOkHyZh3A6xuQDsEVmsH5MoN-9ly0om6YtT8fPzbngE5KY_pYUSclQBYjE_Ix01-mCKZLerZD738-cdUTXeLmdp2A7yVKYpIx/s400/P1010892.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my favorite students dancing </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippNWphQLrgBk-7O3MWMHqcU-BzW5xOGlnun02sSda1rAplJ3kU45p3zOSP4GF_Gjaf6JLJqQCJV3p2CXshOUn6t10w7Bp0oXxH6KxjrroK6f4wKIOYv3M_mFdpy_T7t_dqrSEflKOJPXD/s1600/P1010916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippNWphQLrgBk-7O3MWMHqcU-BzW5xOGlnun02sSda1rAplJ3kU45p3zOSP4GF_Gjaf6JLJqQCJV3p2CXshOUn6t10w7Bp0oXxH6KxjrroK6f4wKIOYv3M_mFdpy_T7t_dqrSEflKOJPXD/s400/P1010916.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing with my best teacher friends</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVnfQn2Dgjlofi8ekZCGvSisKY2Zh6VsEwOjvPYDGEiWgy7Y4FBTRLOZOrhtRQPyzCPU8NJlpZFt6Yv9OKz1vs4ECuFq4Z_oTaia9gdVK8eUx1YlcqDRv6Iv0SXXDXaNcrG9FgS6QXMNr/s1600/P1010920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVnfQn2Dgjlofi8ekZCGvSisKY2Zh6VsEwOjvPYDGEiWgy7Y4FBTRLOZOrhtRQPyzCPU8NJlpZFt6Yv9OKz1vs4ECuFq4Z_oTaia9gdVK8eUx1YlcqDRv6Iv0SXXDXaNcrG9FgS6QXMNr/s400/P1010920.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Williams performed some songs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkv959xHObWtFk-gjt1AgJ5OEHr16I6ELririmjkOeU41m3-csdh_Gf7wCqDbDDrK1IUNHtdfmQfNitezFmomPdn0WgjdIulcEuRgAyLJGFqHWKVQmkiWQ_YPswAoZu0bkxOigCxDElFjX/s1600/P1010929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkv959xHObWtFk-gjt1AgJ5OEHr16I6ELririmjkOeU41m3-csdh_Gf7wCqDbDDrK1IUNHtdfmQfNitezFmomPdn0WgjdIulcEuRgAyLJGFqHWKVQmkiWQ_YPswAoZu0bkxOigCxDElFjX/s400/P1010929.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another typical dance. It rounded out my experience at the school very well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjNwvORNJLQH1SH7L816hfYSMW6vMIRO5MN0oy3Dw9CcDWJvP6ZZMM7ZnwBStQfGmojYgFPMDJ3BTCTK7SSNOqd_onvy2-jJbVhy6pw6AZMgciSSwUe6XWcbrD-eMjPLy-T0osw53l8_E/s1600/P1010940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjNwvORNJLQH1SH7L816hfYSMW6vMIRO5MN0oy3Dw9CcDWJvP6ZZMM7ZnwBStQfGmojYgFPMDJ3BTCTK7SSNOqd_onvy2-jJbVhy6pw6AZMgciSSwUe6XWcbrD-eMjPLy-T0osw53l8_E/s400/P1010940.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch with my site mate Zack's host family plus friends (Kike and Sue!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1wk1m0I1Rv0c-nlnSX3r9sjdnNDP-5_kOe_VytjZj7yN7wMD2C4zJFIsfJW5AHA-wmtn3bgCasY4LbBPx0NYnzuMZx9ZeptX46PBPInLQz6vOk7rmYF4uAiukDulC7MVYG6TnS19V1JI/s1600/P1010966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1wk1m0I1Rv0c-nlnSX3r9sjdnNDP-5_kOe_VytjZj7yN7wMD2C4zJFIsfJW5AHA-wmtn3bgCasY4LbBPx0NYnzuMZx9ZeptX46PBPInLQz6vOk7rmYF4uAiukDulC7MVYG6TnS19V1JI/s400/P1010966.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My health promoters youth group, Pasos Adelante, meeting one last time</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzWCd5mxyi2ylMmQTw_sFuganUU_o2cg7g446i18MYKZS_raxNcNizuCWZTW_EYRC07le6x1Qe25xaQ4-xwfJc_H_ct0c5o6kVuoqjLUoMhgyc_XWtKWX0LWxInVEK7VM3jvOz1uoge1B/s1600/P1010977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzWCd5mxyi2ylMmQTw_sFuganUU_o2cg7g446i18MYKZS_raxNcNizuCWZTW_EYRC07le6x1Qe25xaQ4-xwfJc_H_ct0c5o6kVuoqjLUoMhgyc_XWtKWX0LWxInVEK7VM3jvOz1uoge1B/s400/P1010977.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the gifts made for me (by Gerardo)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YNbbOh0bVsnIOgnygiqlyLeYkw8sGqvWemfdZQ03b7KyKFkUnumnJm2Xg10J8rFSSbjgAQR9QHZ0HZ-Y6hO0CGVbcyAqKNzRGWBaMrw5n-Em1YDw3LooUjEm3-V3fYgzCkHdlaxEXWTf/s1600/P1010984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YNbbOh0bVsnIOgnygiqlyLeYkw8sGqvWemfdZQ03b7KyKFkUnumnJm2Xg10J8rFSSbjgAQR9QHZ0HZ-Y6hO0CGVbcyAqKNzRGWBaMrw5n-Em1YDw3LooUjEm3-V3fYgzCkHdlaxEXWTf/s400/P1010984.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A formal farewell at the town municipality</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfCdEfy27I1cQIQ0q9rOr-vCAGilD0K6aj8OIOKORgd1FoMvlXGRo2wr6iuysMVzG8IOuKOcOGTZ3KeVSBXeK18UIG9lo-58PdgshUXqToYElt3_1zIwIsGqed0wryYbhELekaz-7ZRBx/s1600/P1010985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfCdEfy27I1cQIQ0q9rOr-vCAGilD0K6aj8OIOKORgd1FoMvlXGRo2wr6iuysMVzG8IOuKOcOGTZ3KeVSBXeK18UIG9lo-58PdgshUXqToYElt3_1zIwIsGqed0wryYbhELekaz-7ZRBx/s400/P1010985.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host mom gave a very nice speech about me</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA51qc60wGbHbAUWrN8PJOvF41ZviF3he3TaX2Yj_1DVwUHC5NC8ZIV_CNQBTP5rAQhdIffRxKDTGXt8yHuqtk6IEjOqGYR_a5yqWYErrYEkpmpSS8rsR7fbQlKovIKeiV0JWEcex04H1I/s1600/P1010990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA51qc60wGbHbAUWrN8PJOvF41ZviF3he3TaX2Yj_1DVwUHC5NC8ZIV_CNQBTP5rAQhdIffRxKDTGXt8yHuqtk6IEjOqGYR_a5yqWYErrYEkpmpSS8rsR7fbQlKovIKeiV0JWEcex04H1I/s400/P1010990.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Receiving ridiculously nice gifts I didn't expect</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8inDZZ0Qd-0rQdkG5fiqfCZKIlbczWor3CMNnKTCHDD5BTrDX0Fbd2yU_0qeuDDbWsOmS9TNagPDA_t1MDOxXCqkn20BWnvD4cnK1OA-y7SyhuIIWtCKvqkDkYHTxqBSpLWBnObOngu6B/s1600/P1010997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8inDZZ0Qd-0rQdkG5fiqfCZKIlbczWor3CMNnKTCHDD5BTrDX0Fbd2yU_0qeuDDbWsOmS9TNagPDA_t1MDOxXCqkn20BWnvD4cnK1OA-y7SyhuIIWtCKvqkDkYHTxqBSpLWBnObOngu6B/s400/P1010997.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A plaque thanking me for my service in Mocupe </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNX2jWEE11grRrdeP0j67t_ihSXwdisHsqa0TtxxAcW0wbU9i2GcORdnTlucaGBctgLR624dhhqPyDvuoDw37yGI9REkLBZ00twzyjjdE1RLwBk6MiA8C0qt6itOi9B4BouZngcrLRkusT/s1600/P1010994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNX2jWEE11grRrdeP0j67t_ihSXwdisHsqa0TtxxAcW0wbU9i2GcORdnTlucaGBctgLR624dhhqPyDvuoDw37yGI9REkLBZ00twzyjjdE1RLwBk6MiA8C0qt6itOi9B4BouZngcrLRkusT/s400/P1010994.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giving my teary farewell speech</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LnzAQUf6pBoBCjyRII79JShsFRYtdzwTMLy4uVCgNSF50aM5aRTDCZStKHL3NS45MZiPsA1zXX5D-QP5zxoiJvcDWdcrBXJiVi4x3sQdY8e0SZzIO0fN2oX8MvGSchyvJfYI0X5QaNeN/s1600/P1010998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LnzAQUf6pBoBCjyRII79JShsFRYtdzwTMLy4uVCgNSF50aM5aRTDCZStKHL3NS45MZiPsA1zXX5D-QP5zxoiJvcDWdcrBXJiVi4x3sQdY8e0SZzIO0fN2oX8MvGSchyvJfYI0X5QaNeN/s400/P1010998.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last dinner in site-- arroz con pato (duck and rice)-- my favorite!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7ffJF5vSdldFTN1lzEkQ5_Sr9LZFR2dxLYjqrfqL1OmPx6NrwIhEgCiu9YPc0VXczO9sZSIzdIbwgGi2bgPIpz2HVYsNx7FOnl4o01m4bPp7BBLJSCzjUzcRw6K_09HCNUws1euAmHrJ/s1600/P1020023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7ffJF5vSdldFTN1lzEkQ5_Sr9LZFR2dxLYjqrfqL1OmPx6NrwIhEgCiu9YPc0VXczO9sZSIzdIbwgGi2bgPIpz2HVYsNx7FOnl4o01m4bPp7BBLJSCzjUzcRw6K_09HCNUws1euAmHrJ/s400/P1020023.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host family checking out my going away present for them-- a photo album with photos from the last two years</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzRUtVg5_mYpnUuqWwmaIizeANdMRdcTdEsTFZphE9a6B_wrtUId1S0WB8MwQQaw288kgSVPeTYXSTMT9ecdApg2PRSDAX-JW3-nHIVqnXseUGtekD9f-LKbQHNGRmHPYyFeRB_L4BpxF/s1600/P1020026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzRUtVg5_mYpnUuqWwmaIizeANdMRdcTdEsTFZphE9a6B_wrtUId1S0WB8MwQQaw288kgSVPeTYXSTMT9ecdApg2PRSDAX-JW3-nHIVqnXseUGtekD9f-LKbQHNGRmHPYyFeRB_L4BpxF/s400/P1020026.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The host family at my host grandma's house. L-R- Host mom, host grandma, host uncle, host cousin, me, host dad, host brother, host sister</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnDR62jRcHxrtEiL8CYTT-bRWGr_NcKREYuvpJixkuY195hENKqSWFQxFUJRP9jZdbkr0MlcNPzbbCdrIqeNcKvhs13pLNHCS4Joh5rhzbaqji8D9EfZ5iZjzI_JxUheShTM3as7o5RJ-/s1600/P1020042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnDR62jRcHxrtEiL8CYTT-bRWGr_NcKREYuvpJixkuY195hENKqSWFQxFUJRP9jZdbkr0MlcNPzbbCdrIqeNcKvhs13pLNHCS4Joh5rhzbaqji8D9EfZ5iZjzI_JxUheShTM3as7o5RJ-/s400/P1020042.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host family! Our only photo of all of us together</td></tr>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-28066750973429208782013-07-14T23:08:00.000-05:002013-07-14T23:35:50.656-05:00My Peace Corps Family-- an ode to my fellow volunteersWhen it's time to say goodbye, you have to do it right. And in Peru that means having <i>despedidas</i>, or, going away parties. Obviously in the States this is something we do as well, but in Peru it's pretty much a requirement. I have something like six despedidas planned for my last week in site, including the day I have to get on a night bus to head to Lima. I will literally be partying until my last hours. Last night I had my first despedida, and that was with all of the Lambayeque volunteers for those in group 17.<br />
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In case I haven't made this completely clear, Lambayeque is the department I live in and there are something around 30 volunteers here (over 200 volunteers in all of Peru including all of the departments). My training group, 17, is the group I arrived to Peru with which is comprised of small business and youth volunteers, and there were five of us from group 17 that moved to Lambayeque. In Lambayeque we also have volunteers from other programs, like environment and community health.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfw76dmbjvhn8n8w0n32zkbJ2JK0Ng3i64PHOyQjsTbk-uWMtLxHLa_CQS6OQp6TQEToJAunmdvtrNT6GTBgr_w8p3-jHqwarTVKs8qnQiTAIUE7ANpcLEw_InGZemjse-99NB1rcF3_c/s1600/295779_10100154645665656_5093194_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfw76dmbjvhn8n8w0n32zkbJ2JK0Ng3i64PHOyQjsTbk-uWMtLxHLa_CQS6OQp6TQEToJAunmdvtrNT6GTBgr_w8p3-jHqwarTVKs8qnQiTAIUE7ANpcLEw_InGZemjse-99NB1rcF3_c/s400/295779_10100154645665656_5093194_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Site assignment day in training, we found out we'd be new Lambayeque volunteers August 2011</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lambayeque 17ers at COS May 2013</td></tr>
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I don't think I've ever taken the proper amount of time to explain just how important the other volunteers have been in my service. I mean, these people are <i>my people. </i>I think that no matter what, no matter where I am in the world, when I meet another RPCV (returned peace corps volunteer) I will have an automatic connection to that person. Doubly if they were in Latin America. Triply if they were in Peru. My fellow 17ers, well, they're like the equivalent of my graduating high school class; a lot of really close friends, some acquaintances, some people I don't really know but in the end I'm still going to care about where they end up in life. And my Lambayequanos? The Lambaysexy crew? These people are my family.<br />
<br />
Before I joined Peace Corps I was pretty sure that I would be making lifelong friends in Peace Corps. In fact, I counted on it. And when I first met my training group I was like, "Okay...these people will be my best friends eventually...right?" You know, it's really weird to meet a bunch of strangers from all over the US and to suddenly be stuck with them for 9 hours a day, day-in-and-day-out, and have them be your only compatriots in a completely foreign land while you're dealing with a lot of stressful adjustments. You bond quickly, but you also get on each other's nerves real quick. In fact, many times during training all I could think was "get me away from these people!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peru 17 from beginning to end. From Sabrina!</td></tr>
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I made good friends in my training group, but many of us were separated amongst different departments, making it so we only saw each other on vacations or in-service trainings. I called all of my training group friends regularly, but within my department it took longer to get to know people and have friends to meet up with.<br />
<br />
I couldn't even pinpoint exactly when it happened, but there came this point when the people who were once strangers and acquaintances that seemingly had nothing in common with me prior to Peace Corps suddenly became the people who understood and appreciated my feelings and experiences better than anyone else. The "older" generations of volunteers gave sage advice, while my fellow 17ers empathized with me as we seemingly went through all the same phases of ups and downs. And soon after that it wasn't just that we could bond over how tiny the poop-sample cups were at the lab, or funny parts of being a foreigner in Peruvian culture-- like judging beauty pageants and drinking endless cups of hot chocolate at parties on hot summer days-- but I came to appreciate their company, understand and admire their strengths, and love their quirks.<br />
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I don't know if I could ever write anything to do justice the strength that is the volunteer connection, how great my friends are from Arequipa to Tumbes (two opposite ends of Peru) or just how truly proud and honored I am to have worked and lived in Lambayeque with such hard-working, dedicated volunteers. All I can say is we have shared a part of this life that has forever changed me and I have learned many lessons from them.<br />
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So to my fellow volunteers: you have been there for me when I was down, you've celebrated with me when I was up, and you've weaseled your way into my heart over boxes of Gato and fuentes of ceviche chatting about life, love, Peru, and poop. I have made connections and friendships in my Peruvian community that have been life changing, but this experience wouldn't have been what it was without you. And honestly, I don't think I could've done this without you.<br />
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And now the hard part-- returning home where we will all be spread out over the span of a country that is far bigger than Peru!<br />
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To my predecessors, thank you for all the advice and friendship you've given which has made a huge impact on my service. I totally expect to continue receiving it as I embark back into US territory. To my 17ers, NAILED IT. I don't care how far apart we'll be, lets talk real soon and road trip, mmkay? To my 17ers staying for a 3rd year or extending, you guys are badass and I have mad respect for you and know you're going to continue to rock it. To my Lambaysexies, keep up the Lamba-legacy of awesomeness and success! 18ers, soon this will be you so <i>aprovechan</i> this experience all you can, the last months fly by fast! 19ers and 20ers, I'm so glad great people keep joining Peace Corps so that even halfway through my service I could make fast friends with awesome people like you! One more year, and you guys are going to rock it! You're the old and wise ones now, wear that badge proudly.<br />
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I won't be able to see a lot of volunteers again before I leave Peru, and that is really hard to believe and I get pretty emotional just thinking about it. But it's all going to be okay. Just remember, it's not "adios," it's "hasta luego."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a photo so good I need to post it on my blog twice! Love you Lambayeque!</td></tr>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-55668257209748461042013-07-10T17:49:00.000-05:002013-07-10T18:11:30.682-05:00That time I got really nervous about going back to the USAThis is it guys. Fourteen days until I leave Peru, eleven days until I leave site. Camps are all done, projects have been completed and closed, and all that's left is saying goodbye.<br />
<br />
I am getting a lot of mixed reactions from people about coming home soon. Newer volunteers cheer and tell me how exciting it is that I've completed service and am finally going home. People in my site beg me not to go. People back home can hardly believe the time has finally come for my return and are planning visits. Volunteers in my group share the stressed exasperation of both being happy to return and sad and overwhelmed to pack two years of our lives into two bags and say goodbye to our communities. It's pretty safe to say, all of those reactions mirror every feeling I have about coming home. Overall, it's pretty emotional.<br />
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A couple weeks ago I was talking with an extended host family member and they asked me if there were a lot of differences between our cultures. And I kind of drew a blank and said, "No, there aren't that many differences." You know you've been away from home for a long time when you can't come up with at least 10 cultural differences between Peru and the USA. There are <i>huge</i> differences between Peru and the US. I had some of the worst culture shock I have ever experienced while adjusting to life in Peru. And the scary part is they always say, "going home is the hardest part." I'm not gonna lie guys, I'm nervous.<br />
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One of my biggest stresses about going home is how I will react to the reverse culture shock and how I will behave back home. So I decided to list several of the perceivably "strange" things I might do upon my arrival, or things that will take time for me to adjust to. Hopefully if you see this list before you see me you'll be prepared to handle any awkwardness.<br />
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<b>Technology and pop-culture baffles me</b><br />
Thanks to Facebook and the internet I haven't been completely behind the times on everything, but that doesn't mean I'm by any means up to speed. Before I left for Peru I had a handful of friends who had iPhones and iPads, and now it's apparently the new norm. Everyone is talking about apps and things like Instagram and Snapchat and using acronyms like YOLO and smh and I literally have to look it all up online or ask a friend back in the US to explain it to me. So, if you refer to something and I give you a blank stare, remember I've been living under a rock called Peru. But if you have any questions about cumbia music or what happened on <i>Al Fondo Hay Sitio</i> last week, then we can talk.<br />
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<b><i>Claro</i>, I can <i>hablar en Ingles</i></b><br />
Despite English being my mother tongue, I have really lapsed in being able to use it well in regular conversation, especially without Spanish sprinkled in. All of my interactions all day, every day, are in Spanish. All of the volunteers live this way, so when we spend time together we're on the same page linguistically, I guess you could say. It's safe to say the Peace Corps Peru official language is Spanglish, as any conversation we have together is completely filled with Spanish and words that are neither fully English nor Spanish but some weird hybrid. It's the fastest, easiest way for us to talk. Sometimes I can't even remember what a word is in English, I can only think of the Spanish translation. Así es. So I may tell a clerk "gracias" or talk about how I'm going to <i>aprovechar</i> a restaurant buffet, and I may just sound like I'm speaking gibberish.<br />
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<b>Don't swear, it sounds like sh*t</b><br />
One of my favorite things about living in Peru is my ability to say whatever I want in English wherever I want without anyone (well, the majority of the time) understanding me. It's like having a secret language. And the result of two-years of unfiltered conversation with my friends in public is something that may be shocking, rude, and inappropriate for US standards. Those of you who knew me back home know that I have a tendency to swear like a sailor. Well, this scalawag has been away from shore a bit too long, and my regular conversations with friends make an episode of <i>Deadwood</i> look like a chat over coffee. In fact, that is what our chats over coffee look like. This also includes talking about personal issues (like how much diarrhea you had last night) or mentioning that the person sitting at the other table looks attractive/ridiculous/funny/etc. Essentially, anything that pops into my head is coming out of my mouth. And I can already see my friends back home saying, "Wait, she could get <i>worse?" </i>Yes. And it is. And I'm afraid for what I might say.<br />
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<b>No cutting!</b><br />
I think I may actually be really happy about this change-- people actually form a line while waiting for a service of some sort in the USA. In Peru it's pretty much a free-for-all with elbows flying and what we refer to as the "Peruvian shuffle" as someone slowly and not-so-discretely squeezes in front of you in line. However, I may not be used to forming a line. If you see me cut an entire line of people and push my way to the front, I'm sorry. Just add it to the list of embarrassing things you will endure with me.<br />
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<b>Look Ma! This bathroom has toilet paper!</b><br />
I'm going to be really excited about really little things. I mean, really excited. When my friend Becky came to visit we went to a grocery store in Lima where they typically have more diversity in products and upon seeing a shelf with almond milk I gasped and <i>screamed, </i>"ALMOND MIIIIILLLKKKK!!!!!!!!" because I hadn't seen it in a year and a half and had practically forgotten it existed. And it's going to be like that with everything. Toilet paper and soap in a public bathroom (and being able to <i>flush</i> the toilet paper!). Clean water that comes straight from the tap. A grassy lawn that I can sit on. The ice cream section of the grocery store (actually, any section of the grocery store). Streets without trash covering them. Healthy dogs (that aren't stray). Cheddar cheese. Hopefully within the first week I'll get over most of these things, but be prepared for some seemingly un-necessary ceremonious celebrating over little things.<br />
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<b>Pass the Pepto, and give me a plate of rice</b><br />
One of the things I've been literally dreaming about since the first week I left the USA in 2011 is food back home. God, I have missed it. And it was quite the adjustment to Peruvian food at first. In fact, in one of my first blogs on the food here I made the statement of how I didn't like it all that much. Well, the tables have turned. I love Peruvian food. I have no problem eating a ton of rice. In fact when I go on the rare and few trips to eat "American food" I usually end up sick afterwards and just wish that I could have something simple like a plate of rice and a fried egg. American food is rich, too rich for what my body is used to now. Not to mention I think I've become slightly lactose intolerant from my low dairy intake. So while I am still excited for food back home, I'm probably going to be sick for awhile. Odds are I'm also going to complain about prices/availability of produce.<br />
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<b>No fork? No knife? No problem</b><br />
Just thought I'd add, my eating habits aren't quite as "proper" as they once were. All you really need to eat in Peru is a spoon and your hands...and a lot of times I opt for the hands. I apologize if the way I eat ruins your appetite.<br />
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<b>And the list goes on...</b><br />
There are many, many more things I have gotten used to here that I know will be different back home. I'm sure a lot of the adjusting will be internal and not so easily seen by everyone around me. It's going to be hard to deal with leaving my host family, work, community, and friends here in Peru. I have a life here that I'll never be able to return to. It's going to be an adjustment to return home where everyone's lives have continued on without me and finding where I fit back in. Just remember that I've been gone a long time and we all have a lot of catching up to do. Luckily I have awesome friends and family who are understanding and love me no matter what. It's all part of the big adventure, and now we're sharing it together.<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-80653172390197415202013-07-05T16:55:00.002-05:002013-07-05T16:55:34.412-05:00Camp VALOR, where Iron Men are made<br />
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Hellohellohello! It is time for me to tell all you lovely people about my very last camp as a Peace Corps Volunteer -- our all-boys' camp, VALOR.</div>
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If I haven't made it perfectly clear, I just gotta say camps have been one of my absolute favorite parts of Peace Corps. All of the volunteers from our department come together to program three days of activities and educational workshops for some of the best kids from our very own communities, and every time it's a great experience. </div>
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A lot of times while working on projects in site, volunteers will feel discouraged or frustrated by lack of interest or participation from people in the community. But in each community there are always those few kids or people who are interested, motivated, and make all the difference in those projects. Well, just imagine when every volunteer brings those kids--those active, involved few-- and they are all brought together. BAM! Magic happens.</div>
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But really, the camps are where it's at. It is so different from anything Peruvian youth are used to doing. In general Peruvians don't spend the night away from family or go camping, so to have both of those things coincide makes it pretty special. I also love that it gives me an opportunity to work with the other volunteers in my department and get to know them and people from their community better. </div>
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Before I tell you all about camp and the boys I brought this year, I want to make a special shout-out to all of my friends and family who donated to help make this possible! We use a Peace Corps grant system in which 40% of the funds are raised by local communities in Peru, and the remaining 60% comes from donations. So thank you so much to Ann T. (OR), Brandi W. (OR), Carrie M. (OR), Claudia C. (OR), Geno L.III (WA), Jennifer L. (LA), Lee S. (ID), Mackenzie R. (AZ), and of course my awesome Mom!! It means so much to me that you guys would help out with this project, which truly helps influence Peruvian youth in a healthy and positive way. And special shout-out to Nicole and Sam, former Lambayeque volunteers who donated. Miss you guys!</div>
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As I mentioned in the past, Camp VALOR (Varones Adolescentes Lideres Organizados y Responsables) is our all-boys' leadership camp that is three days and completely programmed and run by PC volunteers from within the department. Last year one of our superstar volunteers, Terrace, created a program in her site called "Iron Man" which was based off of a program she had participated in at her high school in the US. Its about being a physically, mentally, emotionally fit individual who takes care of themselves, their community, their environment, and learns from the past while helping to build a better future. Sounds like a lot, right? Well it is, because it takes a lot to be an Iron Man.</div>
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We loved the idea from last camp so much that we stayed with the theme this year as well. We decided we also wanted to add an extra emphasis on <i>machismo</i> and not just talking about gender equality, but everyday cultural things they so often take for granted and maybe don't realize are sexist or discriminatory. </div>
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<b>Some of the activities over the three-day camp were:</b></div>
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<li>Career assessment exams/Career fair with Peruvian professional men invited from different volunteers’ sites. </li>
<li>Session on raising cuy, ducks, and bees for both personal uses or business opportunities (this is both common and lucrative in rural Peruvian communities).</li>
<li>Two-day futbol (soccer) tournament amongst all the teams. </li>
<li>Presentation and activity about famous Peruvian women in history to emphasize sex and gender/gender equality.</li>
<li>Round robin sessions on goal setting, pro-active lifestyles, team building, empathy, correct condom use, fidelity and finding your ideal partner. </li>
<li>Organic farming (also very pertinent to Peruvians from rural communities where agriculture is a large portion of jobs and income).</li>
<li>Trash management-- composting, recycling, and emphasis on not burning trash.</li>
<li>In-depth session run by a health professional on Sex, STD’s, Abstinence, Fidelity</li>
<li>Campfire with s’mores, scary stories, and singing (a very U.S. American tradition we introduced to them), one of my personal favorites. </li>
<li><i>Cuerpo de Pasión</i>, a telanovela inspired skit performed by volunteers with themes of the dangers of unprotected sex, infidelity, and general shenanigans. </li>
<li>Even more stuff than I can even begin to talk about!</li>
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The camp was held at the same location we had our last two, which is a local NGO eco-center that our superstar Hallie works with. Like camps in the past, participants were divided up into teams which were led by two or three volunteers. For extra incentive, throughout the camp there was a point system in place to motivate the campers to be punctual and participate in all the activities, and at the end of camp winners were recognized for their hard work.</div>
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I could go on for forever about camp, but as usual photos are better. Be sure to check below where I have profiles written about the boys I brought!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John talking about what it means to be an Iron Man</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shirts! We re-used last year's design, by yours truly. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning about raising cuy and the three different breeds at the Eco-Center</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ducks!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing soccer and working towards the championship round</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys performed skits based on the lives of famous Peruvian women in history</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning about different types of vegetables and gardening</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our regional coordinator, Renato, sharing the experience with his daughter. Renato was also a speaker at the camp and a great example of an "Iron Man". </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The condom race! Correct condom use, of course, being the main point. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reviewing their career assessment exams and where their strengths and interests are.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lambayeque Peru 17! Our last camp together before some of us finish service, while others stay on for a 3rd year</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the boys I brought winning the "Overall Camper" award! So proud!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My boys! I chose to bring boys from my health promoters group, Pasos Adelante. They did so great and impressed all of the other volunteers with their motivation, participation, and general awesomeness!</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Medina</span></b></div>
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This is my man Luis, but I always call him by his last name, Medina. Medina is the strong and silent type, but by no means afraid to express himself or participate. I brought Medina to last year's camp and afterwards he became one of the members and best participants in my health promoters youth group. Medina lives a little further outside of my town, but he is never late to activities and in fact is usually the first to show up. Generally youth are only allowed one time at camp but we decided to have "super star" participants come back to be leaders in the teams, so I asked Medina to come to be a <i>super estrella</i> at camp! As always, he brought his positive attitude and awesome leadership skills with him and shone like the super star he is!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Williams</span></b></div>
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Williams is what I would call one of my "<i>medio-bandito</i>" students. He has been involved in almost every project I've ever done, he just spends most of that time staring off at girls instead of doing his work. He is small even by Peruvian standards, but is one of the biggest stars in my community with his singing. This kid has no fear on a stage! I invited him to camp because I hoped that it could motivate him to realize his potential to become a big leader amongst his classmates and within his community.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Jason</span></b></div>
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Jason really surprised me during camp. Within the first few hours of being split off into teams I heard other volunteers talking about him and his support and sensitivity to another camper as they discussed the discrimination this particular camper was used to receiving due to his femininity. As camp went on he became an obvious leader amongst his group by setting a good example to others, participating fully, being respectful in his interactions with others, and just being a model individual in every aspect. The reason this surprised me is because I almost didn't bring him. He can be a real handful at school with his rambunctiousness and sometimes acting out, and I've gotten pretty frustrated with him in the past. I think what it comes down to is he isn't challenged enough in his school work and is often surrounded by students who are a bad influence. Watching him come out of his shell at camp and not only do well but excel was amazing. He was such a model participant he won the "Best Overall Camper" award, which was voted on by all of the volunteers. I'm so proud of him and hope he can see all the good he can do.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Gerardo</span></b></div>
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I know I shouldn't pick favorites, but even amongst my favorites Gerardo is the tops. Since day one in my community he has made an effort to make me feel comfortable in my new home. I actually almost didn't bring him to camp either because he is such an exemplary student he is given more opportunities to participate in leadership events than other students are. However it worked out that he could come and he of course impressed everyone with how rad he is. Gerardo is kind, intelligent, talented, easy to laugh, and a gentle soul. He is graduating high school this December and while at camp he told me he's planning on going into seminary to work towards becoming a priest. We had a long conversation about it, and while his choice is very different from my own cultural norms and ideas, I know whatever he does in his life he will excel at and help others. </div>
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As always, camp was a great experience for the volunteers and the campers they brought. I'm sad it was my last camp, but happy that I was able to bring the boys I did. If I could bring all of my boys, it would be even better, but these guys will just have to lead by example to help create a better future for Peru!Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-56445350136452373652013-06-18T22:43:00.000-05:002013-06-19T00:36:48.054-05:00A gift you can't keep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You know what the problem is with writing about Peace Corps? There is just too much to say. Way too much. It is overwhelming, especially when, like myself, you are coming to the end of your service and trying to wrap everything up in a nice cozy little package and say, "Here ya go! Here it all is, complete closure, loose-ends tied, nice and tidy."<br />
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A large part of me wants to bring all of this full-circle, bring closure to my blog in the next short 5 weeks, and to in some manner actually explain to all of you what the heck is going on in this brain of mine.<br />
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The problem is, it's not tidy. It's a mess. Peace Corps is messy, life is messy, and cleaning it up and writing it succinctly is a task that I want to take on but feels almost impossible. Life does not always have closure, so I can't expect Peace Corps to be any different.<br />
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So let me just start with this quote:<br />
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"As to the kindness you mention, I wish I could have been of more service to you then I have been, but if I had, the only thanks I should desire are that you would always be ready to serve any other person that may need your assistance, and so let good offices go around, for humankind are all a family. As for my own part, when I am employed in serving others I do not look upon myself as conferring favors but paying debts."<br />
-Benjamin Franklin</blockquote>
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And do I have a lot of debts to pay...<br />
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When I was in my first months of service and starting my new job of working with Peruvian youth, I couldn't stop comparing my own adolescence to those of the kids I was working with. I immediately became hyper-aware of all of the opportunities I'd been given and lessons I'd learned from adults in my life. I wanted to write every single one and thank them for the lessons they'd taught me (note to self: you should probably still do that). I couldn't (and still can't) help but feel overly privileged.<br />
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If you knew the town I grew up in, unless you spoke in terms of natural beauty, you probably wouldn't immediately call it a community of the overly privileged. A lot of people thought the community I grew up in was gravely lacking. I mean, a town of 900 people isolated in the mountains of central Idaho, surrounded by wilderness, two-and-half hours from the closest "city" doesn't always have access to all of the resources available. As one of my co-workers once stated, my hometown of Challis, Idaho has "everything you need and nothing you want." It is a rural ranching community filled with cowboys and hardworking people-- and I am pretty sure more cows than people. For my entire childhood there were no street names, you simply gave people directions via landmarks. There's no movie theater. No stop lights. The first and only chain was a Subway in a local grocery store, and that happened in the last 5 years. I couldn't even get cell-phone service at my parent's house until 2009. When I got into high school and started making friends from larger towns and cities they would make fun of me asking if we had indoor plumbing or a TV.<br />
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But it is a close community where everyone knows your name. You couldn't get away with playing hookie because whoever saw you would surely call your mom or the school. Something as simple as a high school basketball game will bring many people out of their homes on dark winter nights even with ice on the roads. The high school maybe didn't have the fanciest technology or a wide variety of clubs and groups, but I was involved in everything from sports to yearbook club. I will still say I had some of the best teachers a high school could give. Sadly, it wasn't until I was much older that I could fully appreciate being in a beautiful place with a community of people who invested in my future. To say my town was lacking is to say it didn't have the excess and material wants our society craves.<br />
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I don't think I need to go into all of the disparity in Peru and what teenagers here have to deal with, but just to get an idea: getting a full day of basic classes (approx 5 hours) in which capable teachers show up to all of their classes almost never happens on a daily basis. Teenage pregnancy and high school drop-out rates are jaw dropping. Public schools have very little in the means of resources, updated materials, libraries, computers, extra-curricular activities, and a whole slew of things we expect out of our public schools. Then there is gender inequality, issues at home with domestic abuse, illiteracy rates in parents, malnutrition, etc. But while I noticed the stark differences between my teen years and development compared to the kids I was working with, I also saw a lot of similarities. My Peruvian community is not unlike the one I grew up in. It's small and relies mostly on agriculture. Generations after generations live here, and everyone knows everyone. The kids complain about the small town and talk about how much they want to leave and live in the city. In fact, despite all the differences, it feels a lot like home. I started to see bringing kids to Camp ALMA and Camp VALOR like when my 7th grade Science teacher chose to take me to Idaho Youth Summit, a Drug-Free Leadership camp that I could easily credit for shaping much of who I am and consequently my assignment as a Youth Development Volunteer. When I started doing my Health Promoters group and vocational orientation classes I thought of all of the people in my life who talked to me about my future, family planning, goal setting, higher education, etc. The list goes on and on.<br />
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I don't need to tell you, teenagers are little shits. And I'm sure at times I was a little shit, too. I do not take it lightly that so many people in their own way passed on their wisdom to me and told me they believed in me. And now I have my kids (all of us volunteers seem to throw that phrase around--"my kids."), my youth group kids, and I see so much potential in them. I am often distraught with the disadvantages they have, with how unfair it is that life decided I be born into privilege and that they are born in a developing country where the cards are stacked against them. I want them to rise above their situation and to be happy and successful, in whatever form "happy" and "successful" is for them. And I suppose the ultimate goal is that someday they will pass it on. And to be perfectly honest, I don't feel like I did enough to ensure that. In fact, I don't know that I did enough, period.<br />
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There is this weird thing that happens when you become a Volunteer where all of these people suddenly see you as a saint. You feel anything but saint-like, and yet everyone is so proud of you and your service-- for giving two years of your life to help others. I always hear, "you have made a difference." I will be honest when I say much of my decision on joining Peace Corps was based on the idea of everything I would get out of it. I wanted the life lessons, the experience in another culture, the language. But things changed. Once I realized the great bounty in which I had not only been given gifts my whole life, but everyday of my time in Peru, I couldn't give enough. It could all be better, it could all be more. Like Ben Franklin, "I wish I could've been of more service to you then I have been." I have received more than I could ever give while in Peace Corps. And as for my service, I see now that I was not "conferring favors but paying debts" to all those who have given to me, past and present.<br />
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Our society, US society, is all about freeing ourselves of our debts and being independent. Striking out on your own, making a name for yourself, being free of obligations to others. And I would be lying if I didn't say I joined Peace Corps under this notion of being independent, of pushing my own limits and testing myself. And yet what I have learned while I've been here is how important obligation is. How important it is to be indebted to others. Obligation is part of being in a community, part of working with others towards a common goal. Continuing the cycle of giving and receiving is part of communion with others. My Peruvian community has shown me in so many ways, through kindness and friendship and bringing me in, just how important that community bond is.<br />
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In "The Toe Bone and the Tooth" Martín Prechtel says, "The idea is to get so entangled in debt that no normal human can possibly remember who owes whom what, and how much. In our business dealings, we keep close tabs on all exchanges, but in sacred dealings we think just like nature, where all is entangled and deliciously confused, dedicated to making the Earth flower in a bigger plan of spirit beyond our minds and understanding."<br />
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Life is messy. Life is filled with unknowns. I may never get closure on my Peace Corps service or know the extent in which I have helped others, but I know in my heart how they have helped me, and because of that we are eternally bound.<br />
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May the exchanging of gifts continue, and may we all remember our debts.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-21240106238324574402013-06-07T11:46:00.000-05:002013-06-07T11:58:16.409-05:00Month 24Well, here we are. In three days I will have been in Peru for two years. Just a little more than 6 weeks left in service. Peru 21, the replacement group for Peru 17, has landed in Peru and is starting training. This is it guys-- the homestretch.<br />
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I have been caught in this weird limbo where I both want to write down everything describing every emotion that runs through me, and at the same time I am seized in paralysis where I can't seem to write a single word of any of it. Like when you trip and fall and there is this moment where you don't know exactly all that is happening and are caught off guard and can't do much about it. It happens so fast, yet so many thoughts flash in that instant that they can't be quantified in normal time.<br />
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Does that make sense?<br />
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<b>Two years</b> of my life. A life goal almost accomplished. The end of an era. <br />
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Simply put, I am overwhelmed.<br />
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I am overrun by the past and the present and the future all at once. When you're coming to the end of an experience you can't help but look back at how far you've come; the array of good and bad days that all smash together and create this nostalgic foray that comes out any moment of the day to remind you just how amazing and complicated it has all been and how soon it will end. And the future? Well, to think of life any different than how it has been can be exciting and unsettling in it's own right. Going home, going back to life how it was but at the same time completely different. It makes you wonder if it will all just seem like a dream? All that's left is to try and live in the present, and sometimes the past and the future are pulling so hard that just taking a deep breath and looking around and saying, "this day-- this moment-- is all I have," becomes the most difficult task. <br />
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Overwhelmed indeed.<br />
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I don't know if many of you know this, but Peace Corps is probably one of the biggest, scariest goals I had set for myself in my entire life. I didn't actually know if it would be made a reality or not someday. Those of you who have known me for a good deal of time know that I can be considered a bit of a "free spirit." I make goals, I accomplish them, but I'm not a "five-year-plan" type of person. I am a "follow-your-heart-and-it-will-all-work-out" type of person. Peace Corps is probably the only thing I've done that could kind of fall under both.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My very first post about Peace Corps, my very first post on this blog, is one about my Peace Corps interview almost three years ago in Oregon; that incredibly exciting and nerve wracking first big step after applying. The very first question the interviewer asked me was: "So, why do you want to join Peace Corps?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I wrote:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffeedd;">"</span><span style="background-color: #ffeedd; color: #332211; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">This is the question I had spent the entire drive to Salem trying to rehearse out loud. It was incredibly difficult to verbalize my answer. How do I explain to someone what I just know to be right? How do I verbalize in a short precise answer all of the events of my past and present that have led me to this moment where this drastic step is not so drastic? .... How do I sum up that when I am older I want to look back and have the Peace Corps as my past?"</span></span><br />
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That last part, the "when I'm older I want to look back and have Peace Corps as my past" part. I can't seem to get it out of my head. No one really knows what they're getting into when they first join Peace Corps, I don't think. Every country, every region, and every person has such a different experience. It was nothing like I expected it to be, but it was everything I wanted.<br />
And at this moment, I am conflicted on how I feel about making it my "past."<br />
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Just like anything in life, change can be scary. Hopefully I will be able to unfreeze my paralysis and write some more about what the end of this wild ride has been like. There are still so many stories to be told, and such little time to tell them.<br />
<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-83029093346076760932013-06-01T13:32:00.000-05:002013-06-01T13:39:50.830-05:00Let me tell you 'bout ALMA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
First of all, I would like to thank all of you who have donated to Lambayeque camps! Thanks to you, we just pulled off an amazing Camp ALMA (which I'm about to tell you about) and we have fully funded our all-boys' camp, VALOR! I can't thank you all enough or express to you how much you've helped us create amazing camps for amazing kids. These camps are one of the most fulfilling parts of my Peace Corps service, and I know they are very special for the kids who attend. Thank you for contributing!!</div>
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Just last weekend we had our our annual all-girls' Camp, ALMA (Actividades Liderazgos para Mujeres Adolescentes, or young women's leadership camp). Each year the volunteers from within our department design and program a three-day leadership camp and then choose two of the most deserving girls from their community to bring. Once everyone arrives to camp they are divided into teams with girls from other communities led by volunteers. Like our last year's Camp VALOR, we distinguished teams by t-shirt colors and created a point system for each team which would motivate them throughout camp to participate and be punctual to workshops. </div>
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This year our theme was "Peace of mind, Peace of body, and Peace with the environment," and we held it at an eco-center run by a local NGO that focusses on organic farming.</div>
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The camp went great! Maybe I just think this about every camp we've had, but this one was one of the best ever. The campers were great, the volunteers all worked hard, and energy was always good and upbeat. </div>
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One of the special things about this camp is that it is completely out of the norm for the Peruvian teens we bring. Back in the US I started attending week-long camps away from home when I was 13, and even before that I had at least stayed the night away from home on Girl Scouts trips. To stay the night away from home, especially away from family, is something many Peruvian adolescents never do. To go camping is something many of them have never done. The very fact that their parents entrusted volunteers to take them away from home to another town to stay the night for two nights is a very big deal. </div>
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I definitely think pictures can speak louder than words on how awesome camp was, but I also want to tell you about some of the activities and workshops we had that followed our theme:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Intensive sex-ed session with a health professional.</li>
<li>A "sex question box" where girls could write anonymous questions throughout camp, and on the last day all of the questions were answered by a health professional.</li>
<li>Recycling and trash management</li>
<li>Volleyball tournament </li>
<li>Belly dancing, led by one of our very own volunteers</li>
<li>Round robin sessions on: condom use, choosing an ideal partner, teamwork, trust, leadership, self-esteem, gardening, animal husbandry, mural painting, etc</li>
<li>A session on inspirational women in Peruvian history</li>
<li>A career assessment exam to help girls find their personal strengths and weaknesses for possible future employment</li>
<li>Career fair with local professional Peruvian women</li>
<li>Campfire with s'mores</li>
<li>Talent show for the entire camp</li>
<li>"Cuerpo de Pasión" a telenovela themed skit done by volunteers demonstrating the importance of safe sex.</li>
<li>The infamous condom race</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cfnq5Yehf936fIoj-7pRhAr8-DqdPWkdpo7WfUOLpPWFtQDIvvRzgnocClTu06gj05KK2UKJLNtIA1gAc_cuPfq4A1KEXnL9NJN-DP8Q9dvFBYyTTk76K7pl_g30qtxvRTcMrXlvCUzS/s1600/P1000842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cfnq5Yehf936fIoj-7pRhAr8-DqdPWkdpo7WfUOLpPWFtQDIvvRzgnocClTu06gj05KK2UKJLNtIA1gAc_cuPfq4A1KEXnL9NJN-DP8Q9dvFBYyTTk76K7pl_g30qtxvRTcMrXlvCUzS/s400/P1000842.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls I brought from my community. I was able to bring three as one girl came as a "super estrella" to be a leader of one of the teams since she had come to camp last year and rocked!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All teams together receiving introductory remarks</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina, Betty, and Annie teaching belly dancing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning about volunteerism and helping re-paint a mural at the eco-center</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyFF0v30ouQP_VIHosgl3fmPXyxoMe98efvh2pAqVUavE4OrWqs0Mo5znpBApM4E5DfUdMLsyypSkOOGax1jEyzzmFQ72R1AsUult9y3lIEiNvjbyRpVvC3RtovrGqshdmVlGUatKGUht/s1600/P1000904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRyFF0v30ouQP_VIHosgl3fmPXyxoMe98efvh2pAqVUavE4OrWqs0Mo5znpBApM4E5DfUdMLsyypSkOOGax1jEyzzmFQ72R1AsUult9y3lIEiNvjbyRpVvC3RtovrGqshdmVlGUatKGUht/s400/P1000904.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kiryssa and Kyle's session on making starter plants for a possible roof-top garden</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early-morning volleyball tournament</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKR8T3OGvTM5rUrhOle05HDfYHAiVO4uZdLeYNOmFn3lZU-bBehhxCo6iTgu5HT3W57GJuLYS5NST8O2o1Gq3lwjllNW7QE1Mru7L1J8IVV_DFfyJQIgWbgiR9uf-xvoANXKPdsGcvJ1X/s1600/P1010096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYKR8T3OGvTM5rUrhOle05HDfYHAiVO4uZdLeYNOmFn3lZU-bBehhxCo6iTgu5HT3W57GJuLYS5NST8O2o1Gq3lwjllNW7QE1Mru7L1J8IVV_DFfyJQIgWbgiR9uf-xvoANXKPdsGcvJ1X/s400/P1010096.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Equipo Verde! Zack, Steve, and I were lucky enough to be leaders of this awesome team! They were so great they "won" the entire camp with points for participation, good attitudes, punctuality, etc. Such a great group!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsVPlTcZPw_V1gXuQMTFEVUBT0ajic2t6qsCquscz9DvtVv7XSHlmTbF8OnTUSiVXr36OYxlyZp7dXkqxOFHgKhlPjKXCZ-AoEB_4CBmQtES-hoZ9fwzSnOKCDErjZsGoEBf5brIwzvkO/s1600/P1000962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsVPlTcZPw_V1gXuQMTFEVUBT0ajic2t6qsCquscz9DvtVv7XSHlmTbF8OnTUSiVXr36OYxlyZp7dXkqxOFHgKhlPjKXCZ-AoEB_4CBmQtES-hoZ9fwzSnOKCDErjZsGoEBf5brIwzvkO/s400/P1000962.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Julianne and my session on love, friendship, and choosing an ideal partner. A lot of talking about waiting for the right person, and how that right person should be once they find them. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monica and Zack talked about correct condom use and singing a little song about the "three methods of prevention," which are abstinence, fidelity, and using a condom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful place to have camp!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHQ2_YvUkBrPgBFV1w8Ih2BhIUth2ue9QkggJUX-bUZRnhhngUU356OsHB5Bt4EISKp9FNSjaz0zOYanSdG-lnd8B0jv8YDShEAAQJdY5n-ad3Q1eLfqElX3Q7eUHlATDptmIFooQPRGA/s1600/P1000952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHQ2_YvUkBrPgBFV1w8Ih2BhIUth2ue9QkggJUX-bUZRnhhngUU356OsHB5Bt4EISKp9FNSjaz0zOYanSdG-lnd8B0jv8YDShEAAQJdY5n-ad3Q1eLfqElX3Q7eUHlATDptmIFooQPRGA/s400/P1000952.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girls taking the career assessment exam</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFc5u-HvsHWAXx8r9qzguANpd2ptVWSMBXUscz7eHLnOkGy3An1QWsUXbl7g_WyC84nIseXRIhe_uIXL9wQrU9fRbGLZZUZodTV0vueJ3ecRkoAL7nbWgsT_SkkvbaY-GX7vlGB4zQixr/s1600/P1010012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFc5u-HvsHWAXx8r9qzguANpd2ptVWSMBXUscz7eHLnOkGy3An1QWsUXbl7g_WyC84nIseXRIhe_uIXL9wQrU9fRbGLZZUZodTV0vueJ3ecRkoAL7nbWgsT_SkkvbaY-GX7vlGB4zQixr/s400/P1010012.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina showing her amazing belly dancing moves for the talent show!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnOVaJTKt4d_u_TJXTXNtCH49o59vtm9d91hOIB1fGOlC_5_2vSkFrh8hzH_hKwsaC-sdkIHfPTgYdcr8oa2zpCbEwRI-e03BPxUPhAyLVWjlRvvl0g_3qNtSjNUKcdIee5Co852RWXgM/s1600/P1010125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnOVaJTKt4d_u_TJXTXNtCH49o59vtm9d91hOIB1fGOlC_5_2vSkFrh8hzH_hKwsaC-sdkIHfPTgYdcr8oa2zpCbEwRI-e03BPxUPhAyLVWjlRvvl0g_3qNtSjNUKcdIee5Co852RWXgM/s400/P1010125.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My girls! They rocked at camp. So proud of them!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNWB2gUOEZhULvUmDhD58wkKZe9pidXU1Asx2OD8S0riO5OGbpOzBISRxz9lSIEnDmO6RfpkqlSLxtFObILyMuXgRohd8hyUVCrKNXbVt14Y3FU2AI9Ge0rSfEZxAgz-R4Mu4PTy7OXxj/s400/P1010134.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the duckies on the farm</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3Jhbvd1vNJCOBxniZHo4tl8PdlAZ1gbTNwzVZSJ0Qc4w-tB1yI2mo93p04EWTaKwcZOSN1zRIJm_kdD8RI_wuNSISYmg1XsRsfayRtrlFdcPqHefl7hLazLsj55g3doe4BsUEG4kIiGE/s400/P1010161.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The infamous condom race. It's not about speed, it's about correct use!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0aGRambLa9GKeBerZMMnu8u-kuemV6ivIIRAlRXe_MRRY1QnTywv6GQBGXkdKHD4k7GgE-5BmKDeU8J60sUZX0j53BTDeuF1JEOlaHsxAgneH5VfgSMYkNkvIvoXd3C_k5dFqWIGfxKu/s1600/P1010177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0aGRambLa9GKeBerZMMnu8u-kuemV6ivIIRAlRXe_MRRY1QnTywv6GQBGXkdKHD4k7GgE-5BmKDeU8J60sUZX0j53BTDeuF1JEOlaHsxAgneH5VfgSMYkNkvIvoXd3C_k5dFqWIGfxKu/s400/P1010177.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the professionals invited to speak about her job during the career fair</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GGaovQ7BzmJvyPjYEuAlteUj2woE1Z-CXIoHm-uBNCTPm7N3-ZC19dmSSJ-Ikq_YK33VfEY6C2pNdDhzVjlfDCCjTvkaWUDUwkTR3DWpcrxkdRclNUuCcq9IuIN6n8xUCbfslHB_Jah5/s1600/964915_10100957199167006_267920928_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GGaovQ7BzmJvyPjYEuAlteUj2woE1Z-CXIoHm-uBNCTPm7N3-ZC19dmSSJ-Ikq_YK33VfEY6C2pNdDhzVjlfDCCjTvkaWUDUwkTR3DWpcrxkdRclNUuCcq9IuIN6n8xUCbfslHB_Jah5/s400/964915_10100957199167006_267920928_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Verde, winning first place! Giving some palabras on how awesome they are.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsokFS2MZ1AeofgbRSJaUFwu0EGUnd3C4oRlYx1q-D3ZO3SZVH7Ovota0DtPg_b2lv4LJhn3Rr4Duy3w27sXECFQBe-hS0iOQWLZUEQbJoPa8KjTcGLNt1CxlGGl6H4ljuBVj9a0MNclY/s1600/427097_10201175184411428_1346510153_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsokFS2MZ1AeofgbRSJaUFwu0EGUnd3C4oRlYx1q-D3ZO3SZVH7Ovota0DtPg_b2lv4LJhn3Rr4Duy3w27sXECFQBe-hS0iOQWLZUEQbJoPa8KjTcGLNt1CxlGGl6H4ljuBVj9a0MNclY/s400/427097_10201175184411428_1346510153_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lamba-sexy crew! Love these volunteers! So lucky to have served in this awesome department, I am truly proud to know all of them.</td></tr>
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On the second day of camp I realized I was exactly two months from being back in the USA, and I broke into tears. It's not that I don't want to go home, but things like camp and the love of my job makes it hard to believe this is all coming to an end very soon. Lucky for me, we still have one camp left. Three-weeks until we get to do camp all over again for the boys!Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-69425864408277257052013-05-21T15:25:00.002-05:002013-05-21T23:11:20.896-05:00I'm on my knees, beggin' you please!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Holy cow, guys! Almost 2 months until I go back to the USA!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that doesn't mean my job is done yet, oh no, there is still so much to do. Like this weekend we are having our annual ALMA all-girl leadership camp. It's an awesome three-day camp with a focus on integral health (mind, body, spirit) and caring for the environment. It's going to be awesome, because Lambayeque volunteers are awesome and all of the girls being brought are some of the best and brightest from volunteer communities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, we still have one issue-- the all-boys camp, VALOR, which is scheduled for the end of June is still not fully funded!</span><br />
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<a href="https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-527-019" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Want to check out the donation page? CLICK HERE!!)</span></b></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am really lucky to have awesome friends and family who have donated to all of the camps I have done over the past two years, and I already know of so many who have donated to this camp and have promoted it to other family members and friends. To all of you beautiful people (you know who you are), you have made such a huge difference by helping make this camp happen, and I am eternally grateful for the support you have given.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So this isn't a call to all of my same friends and family who are always donating to my things. No, this is a call out to the depths of the internet, the end of the universe and back. We are so close to being funded, just $370 away, but if we don't get all the funds by next week we will have to re-budget the camp and make cuts. That could mean less participants, less resources for workshops, etc. That amount of money can make a huge difference in these camps!</span><br />
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<b><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For a refresher on what Camp VALOR is, here is a little summary of camp from last year:</span></u></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Our theme last year (and this year) is "Iron Man" and the boys participated in different activities to promote the lifestyle of a true Iron Man, which we described as <b>being physically and spiritually healthy, studious, intelligent, respectful, tolerant, caring for the environment, honest, a good listener, hard working, loyal, respectful of women, and responsive to the needs of their community. </b>In other words, a well-rounded, successful individual who doesn't subscribe to machismo or bigotry.<br /><br /><br /><u><b> Some activities from last year that will be repeated (and even made better) were:</b></u></span><br />
<ul><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<li>Career assessment exams/Career fair with Peruvian men invited from different volunteers’ sites. </li>
<li>How to make a solar oven and how it works </li>
<li>The nutritious power of sweet potatoes and yams (grown at the farm) and different ways to utilize them in cooking and baking. </li>
<li>Arts and crafts/painting small figurines. </li>
<li>Two-day futbol (soccer) tournament amongst all the teams. </li>
<li>Presentation on Sex and Gender/Gender equality </li>
<li>Round Robin sessions on goal setting, pro-active lifestyles, team building, empathy, and finding your ideal partner. </li>
<li>Organic farming/ composting/ recycling </li>
<li>In-depth session run by a health professional on Sex, STD’s, Abstinence, Fidelity, and the infamous Condom Race. </li>
<li>Campfire with s’mores and scary stories (a very U.S. American tradition we introduced to them), one of my personal favorites. </li>
<li>Even more stuff than I can even begin to talk about!</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAbP5HhHmx-Fdw1D3wcOvnh8ijNxGgyuk4C8R23Srs1b0XhkASN6vstLJY8n3VW4NPa5dUMkFZ7rect0wFPI-1hl5-4TrhQRN2JDxWDYu7mQdH5UT-Nip5NBOok4Irpp-O0vbaSScbRHg/s1600/ScannedImage-5small.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAbP5HhHmx-Fdw1D3wcOvnh8ijNxGgyuk4C8R23Srs1b0XhkASN6vstLJY8n3VW4NPa5dUMkFZ7rect0wFPI-1hl5-4TrhQRN2JDxWDYu7mQdH5UT-Nip5NBOok4Irpp-O0vbaSScbRHg/s400/ScannedImage-5small.JPG" width="287" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Iron Man camp t-shirt design (by yours truly!)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuBIBR0nLZXyYpCbG-YgEMq8D2QXJUq1UHtXBksS8Csto43hCkDNTozLhtVDLHsPwvTJRCbu_jh-3JFIiJ7lQ-y3LPzNqL2sF4bW-jtVWRstlvS30HZqwEjYcTdoPb6FJr6H_b7ea5fiT/s1600/319796_10100541070931326_589970506_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuBIBR0nLZXyYpCbG-YgEMq8D2QXJUq1UHtXBksS8Csto43hCkDNTozLhtVDLHsPwvTJRCbu_jh-3JFIiJ7lQ-y3LPzNqL2sF4bW-jtVWRstlvS30HZqwEjYcTdoPb6FJr6H_b7ea5fiT/s400/319796_10100541070931326_589970506_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Solar oven session and learning about renewable energy</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbiQTtASOhbo2rJWCjq4439_TurOt7hTgIpTJCbsKhJlc0VISX7AgbZuRPgEDtJ0kBwolpiQTVcHgF-UVs0RYJzwD4U0l0CA3ShIOGna28KOB2AVkY74vZ62uosCctyrr6DhpePFxqU0hI/s1600/317969_10100541074963246_1326530603_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbiQTtASOhbo2rJWCjq4439_TurOt7hTgIpTJCbsKhJlc0VISX7AgbZuRPgEDtJ0kBwolpiQTVcHgF-UVs0RYJzwD4U0l0CA3ShIOGna28KOB2AVkY74vZ62uosCctyrr6DhpePFxqU0hI/s400/317969_10100541074963246_1326530603_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Composting session</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pCX-7Wv-2WngZXUcfe_NI3xn6_mA56wsQR7QtKHlOAjhiarxEJOKM32dAjDHG-XQVsBlXodLbr2eGEgJZvxtrPQMKE_Et8DqMZgkkly8XbSJWByPPnzwefvF5_yOpEs396xYzBt-JZg4/s1600/181004_10100541072867446_747849466_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pCX-7Wv-2WngZXUcfe_NI3xn6_mA56wsQR7QtKHlOAjhiarxEJOKM32dAjDHG-XQVsBlXodLbr2eGEgJZvxtrPQMKE_Et8DqMZgkkly8XbSJWByPPnzwefvF5_yOpEs396xYzBt-JZg4/s400/181004_10100541072867446_747849466_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harvesting sweet potatoes for session on nutrition</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxLOCMj7jkA-1kqxEMun7EHAcWw_zZWuZKM_FRdjCFOOMnt9L9YtPjqrRUsVNxLUtvkn6ysufD-lvPvRznCNUOtb83PzkLuj_s0ORUvzHF3j7FdQ-yDSUq4KfKSYyLawZKI_Q36dskLYv/s1600/547203_10100541071844496_115675216_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxLOCMj7jkA-1kqxEMun7EHAcWw_zZWuZKM_FRdjCFOOMnt9L9YtPjqrRUsVNxLUtvkn6ysufD-lvPvRznCNUOtb83PzkLuj_s0ORUvzHF3j7FdQ-yDSUq4KfKSYyLawZKI_Q36dskLYv/s400/547203_10100541071844496_115675216_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sex and Gender workshop</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE8bKmQM2myDcLeW5FHndknpr-YXbo0-A8vDMbRqPH7bmOp3RQFiEaEfYqHa4gK87YQiwnuhhBn_69_9__i8selzfVoDIKt9t-QTBgPiBE9wckv0YB1UyFMlsrRJ8mbXsWTKf6ZB188V2V/s1600/551627_10100640730906999_1580112103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE8bKmQM2myDcLeW5FHndknpr-YXbo0-A8vDMbRqPH7bmOp3RQFiEaEfYqHa4gK87YQiwnuhhBn_69_9__i8selzfVoDIKt9t-QTBgPiBE9wckv0YB1UyFMlsrRJ8mbXsWTKf6ZB188V2V/s400/551627_10100640730906999_1580112103_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love and relationships talk </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin4VNPKhKJNTs9_hX0Dv8t4APR4VKqhSITvMtRk0gGGCJ_uAN9Acmyne3kTbmGSyM7XVB7HfRuIlVArSSNfPieml6_40PfkhSsS4mEEkEPzusjwmo_pdC6I4ThPp00kpRKPNXOWvrtAC0Q/s1600/575139_10100541080122906_1700780270_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin4VNPKhKJNTs9_hX0Dv8t4APR4VKqhSITvMtRk0gGGCJ_uAN9Acmyne3kTbmGSyM7XVB7HfRuIlVArSSNfPieml6_40PfkhSsS4mEEkEPzusjwmo_pdC6I4ThPp00kpRKPNXOWvrtAC0Q/s400/575139_10100541080122906_1700780270_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scary camp stories and s'mores</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBBYCPI9e5y_R_VwVWeZ7JDxgJnv99ZdpHpquUFIBb0u8FVLzfbttcR3PzCqVZMA8-ZcIxmCGletp_qCxB5jgZ-WMvmoZ4_4xTbmalDMsqdy3h9u_acWHgdNX77ekpIA1vaYIgy2efdWd/s1600/180238_10100640647653839_2020702000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBBYCPI9e5y_R_VwVWeZ7JDxgJnv99ZdpHpquUFIBb0u8FVLzfbttcR3PzCqVZMA8-ZcIxmCGletp_qCxB5jgZ-WMvmoZ4_4xTbmalDMsqdy3h9u_acWHgdNX77ekpIA1vaYIgy2efdWd/s400/180238_10100640647653839_2020702000_n.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All the awesome atributes of an Iron Man!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGN7n1rqAG3RTkj7jc5102tIuDHKlxd10ifFPG-NpvS-MmkyjaoxfSkMwKrUQ5xU4mHXH4hU6NSz5eoEiYIpX00ycN4RVpKc3rBr-f8V8KSZoTsM3e050nfp0_ZsMPLVoT2BwEJMoqbnWY/s1600/601254_10100640667439189_632523718_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGN7n1rqAG3RTkj7jc5102tIuDHKlxd10ifFPG-NpvS-MmkyjaoxfSkMwKrUQ5xU4mHXH4hU6NSz5eoEiYIpX00ycN4RVpKc3rBr-f8V8KSZoTsM3e050nfp0_ZsMPLVoT2BwEJMoqbnWY/s400/601254_10100640667439189_632523718_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Futbol tournament</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWVtrsHeWF-vw67rQ8mjrUpNOxq7WIpxAK13AxkwhduDifAldhI4RfNKpwRuLsjHnUV6ZRCjB4lwHVmudUSrpe_c4dUauBstfnLmGWgwwIinWraMEHKPrG4dAlAq3Jw3C9b08nq_NAnEI/s1600/522603_10100541080557036_338142714_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWVtrsHeWF-vw67rQ8mjrUpNOxq7WIpxAK13AxkwhduDifAldhI4RfNKpwRuLsjHnUV6ZRCjB4lwHVmudUSrpe_c4dUauBstfnLmGWgwwIinWraMEHKPrG4dAlAq3Jw3C9b08nq_NAnEI/s400/522603_10100541080557036_338142714_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Team Morado!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OnLXBumWnxmOAAVY5DfaOsCko53VTWZ7l0PhVjQmrrVl68vyr-8EYbpAvcMej_WCgFvDmPuHtye-NFPusUToV7ldzZ_S7lnjGP40rzTiZ_SYCGAmMBWu5EGOsoFS5GUUnmR3TNkm-wu4/s1600/282598_10100541079169816_1190690872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OnLXBumWnxmOAAVY5DfaOsCko53VTWZ7l0PhVjQmrrVl68vyr-8EYbpAvcMej_WCgFvDmPuHtye-NFPusUToV7ldzZ_S7lnjGP40rzTiZ_SYCGAmMBWu5EGOsoFS5GUUnmR3TNkm-wu4/s400/282598_10100541079169816_1190690872_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Cuerpo de Pasión" telanovela style skit</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzDapPyDOXDBLT-IMCd-Q_Sy6Um45VFneEWtVZ8RtDoJZ6rg16hg4D45EDdAKqcKSIoPraexIH4g5GJAq4LRFDelYOIj1MMzijvg-27eq9fnX7hAdl6Zy_OLdcJ0yNYYHOhk6brJ47Ik8/s1600/545064_10100640713012859_1207492735_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzDapPyDOXDBLT-IMCd-Q_Sy6Um45VFneEWtVZ8RtDoJZ6rg16hg4D45EDdAKqcKSIoPraexIH4g5GJAq4LRFDelYOIj1MMzijvg-27eq9fnX7hAdl6Zy_OLdcJ0yNYYHOhk6brJ47Ik8/s400/545064_10100640713012859_1207492735_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone together!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This upcoming Camp VALOR will be my absolute <b>last</b> camp as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Last year this camp was so great and the boys I brought had an absolute blast! They ended up being some of my best students in my teen health promoters club, and they have continued on in their studies to be some of the best in the class with dreams and goals for the future. They are very bright students with bright futures, and I know part of the reason they feel empowered and capable to do these things is <b>this camp</b> and support shown by all the volunteers and guest speakers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Please forward this on to friends, copy it on to your facebook and twitter and whatever other fandangled social networks have been created in my absence, and help us fully fund our all-boys camp!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every bit makes the difference, I promise! It's tax deductible, and every penny you donate goes directly to the camp.</span></div>
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<a href="https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-527-019" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">DONATE TO THE LAMBAYEQUE 2013 CAMP VALOR!</span></b></a></div>
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Much love!</div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-62213668462365033662013-05-13T14:02:00.000-05:002013-05-13T14:02:14.102-05:00Why yes, I am going insane; An update on my life in Peace CorpsHello, hello, hello!<br />
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The lack of communication on my blog is just embarrassing, especially since my days left as a PCV are numbered. That's right, pretty soon this blog will become nothing more than stories from a time in the past when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, because ladies and gentlemen, I have been to my Close of Service conference and chosen my final day.<br />
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I am COS'ing on July 24th, putting me back on US soil for the first time in 2+ years on July 25th.<br />
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I currently have 73 days left in Peru.<br />
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If there were words, or a meme, or some stupid GIF I could post to express the chest crushing, completely contradictory and complex feelings I have about this, I would post it. But there aren't, so instead I'll just continue on both feeling excited to see family and friends, and utterly depressed and panicky about leaving Peru behind.<br />
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As promised, here is a quick update on what I've been up to recently:<br />
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<b>The Foot Growth</b><br />
So, this is kind of a long story, but Imma make it real short: I had this weird growth on my foot called a "granuloma" which is defined as being "<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">a tiny collection of </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immune_cell" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Immune cell">immune cells</a><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> known as </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macrophage" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Macrophage">macrophages</a>..[which] <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">form when the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immune_system" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Immune system">immune system</a><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> attempts to wall off substances that it perceives as foreign but is unable to eliminate</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">" - Wikipedia</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I had this weird growth on my foot which started because I went digging for something (a bug? a splinter? a piece of glass?) in my foot with a knife. Then it never healed and got all weird looking. I went to the doctor and they had to cut it out, stitch me up, and I wasn't allowed to walk really (but I did with a cane), and I missed my last vacation as a PCV. I'd put pictures up, but you really don't want to see that.</span><br />
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<b>It rained, a lot. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My town can't handle rain. We're all dirt streets and desert and despite the fact that it rains every summer, we're still not prepared for it. There were a lot of mosquitos during this time, and cases of dengue raised. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nicole visited!</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I first got to Lambayeque I think I would've floundered a whole lot more than I did if it hadn't been for my PCVL, Nicole. She finished her four year service (yeah, FOUR YEARS) last July and it was terribly sad to not have her around. She came to visit for Semana Santa and I was able to spend some time with her in her old site (now Zack's site). Miss you sister!</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Peace Corps Prom!</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love my dear sweet department of Lambayeque, and the reason I love it is because the volunteers who serve here are awesome, dedicated, and inspiring. They are also very fun to be around, and we had our first-ever department prom, which included rented dresses, and voting for prom king, queen and best dressed.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">US Embassy English Teaching Workshop in Lima</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My host mom is an English teacher for the high school, so when there was an opportunity to attend a workshop held by US Embassy English instructors in Lima, I signed her up. My host mom is great with the "book smarts" of English, pretty much having perfect grammar and a vast knowledge of vocabulary, but she never practices actually speaking. All of her instructors in Peru have been Peruvians, and even their pronunciation isn't great. Speaking with natives and practicing conversational English isn't something she gets a lot of opportunities to do. You'd think with me living in the house that wouldn't be a problem, but apparently I'm really hard to understand and she often feels too embarrassed to try. However when we went to the workshop in Lima she did great! She was speaking very well and we learned a lot of awesome games and ways to introduce topics to students to get them interested and more involved in their language learning. It was a great week and I'm glad I got to spend it with my host mom.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">COS Conference</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">COS, or Close of Service, is a time for all of us from the same training group (Peru 17!) to get together to talk about what comes next; finishing things up in site, preparing to say goodbye to all of the people and places that have become so important to us over the past two years, and get ready for returning home. It was so good to see everyone in the same place at once and to look back over the past two years and how much we've all grown. And to say the least, it was stressful to think about all of this coming to an end. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ger27egMmNk0UCPEw9k1esoJpP1njweWO8ZUKB4Xl8v5EFhKkBw4lkGsxyuRJLe6P09-_Npd1cchDF2WLpjxEt3HB2T5VRUCi6FrsNXWLVTMzarpo8i-lh7DWL-_y9HikblXzlpSmUJW/s1600/P1000584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ger27egMmNk0UCPEw9k1esoJpP1njweWO8ZUKB4Xl8v5EFhKkBw4lkGsxyuRJLe6P09-_Npd1cchDF2WLpjxEt3HB2T5VRUCi6FrsNXWLVTMzarpo8i-lh7DWL-_y9HikblXzlpSmUJW/s400/P1000584.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During our Swearing In Ceremony Chris, Faith, Zack, and Jon all played "El Condor Pasa," so it was only right that things should come full circle for our COS conference</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hs1OOFVEE0LAMnT3GCLAOfuOXiKAu0nQmAcCou2jco4uungy5AUOk26scBHckv4rHPvWJYoJGRWL7z9tB1dTwJ6JX84LvXIWkvE0-S8iUvXljM0LBTJLR_Rt8LHja9gdBPhHybQt0n32/s1600/P1000589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hs1OOFVEE0LAMnT3GCLAOfuOXiKAu0nQmAcCou2jco4uungy5AUOk26scBHckv4rHPvWJYoJGRWL7z9tB1dTwJ6JX84LvXIWkvE0-S8iUvXljM0LBTJLR_Rt8LHja9gdBPhHybQt0n32/s400/P1000589.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Receiving my Peace Corps Completion certificate from my APCD</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxA9Pjm6pacXyIVKCTR0WePf7zqdfTIGMqBBh5_H10my_cAbp8f8bYd6KH5Paxy1UP7xFS-dp920XMepqZFHu48-TpNdiGFYsKLUHFCVmuc6PZXyoLIStRkF-Z-nebLfpBOBd_u1pa3e4x/s1600/P1000620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxA9Pjm6pacXyIVKCTR0WePf7zqdfTIGMqBBh5_H10my_cAbp8f8bYd6KH5Paxy1UP7xFS-dp920XMepqZFHu48-TpNdiGFYsKLUHFCVmuc6PZXyoLIStRkF-Z-nebLfpBOBd_u1pa3e4x/s400/P1000620.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My pin! Peace Corps Peru</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Town Anniversary</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After an emotional week of saying goodbye to friends, I came straight back to site for anniversary festivities. In Peru you don't just celebrate the anniversary of a town with a single day, oh no. It is at least a week, if not 10 days. So there was a lot going on every day, like music, dancing, a mass civil matrimony where 22 couples got married, various contests, and Zack came to my site and helped me put on a "ginkana" which is like corny games you play with kids on the 4th of July.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyQCMTtldQDr-uFqpgvj-vR16NgpkipYLgZTiFNoNwtWI3F1WCXm2tJgVLIJroA7-zENgvbMO3TeE1q3-bJzCphsmhz6Q5TWehDMIVPnUgpuPyb5MHQSV0Vd4I7wkjBNnF61I-mZnS_0f/s1600/P1000729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyQCMTtldQDr-uFqpgvj-vR16NgpkipYLgZTiFNoNwtWI3F1WCXm2tJgVLIJroA7-zENgvbMO3TeE1q3-bJzCphsmhz6Q5TWehDMIVPnUgpuPyb5MHQSV0Vd4I7wkjBNnF61I-mZnS_0f/s400/P1000729.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mass Civil Matrimony</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZRGe-_URJhZe0rPzcZWh_O3fFOnQcqf6FRZY093-DexlYYH8EbSyJTpX9Qvmn1We3qv3LhR5POhYxo-fcDREb6x4ha8LjX-tv2kSDs4Ei-0jBh3k5ro-i-Ij7bikJBQ983haqBvKGNfO/s1600/P1000696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZRGe-_URJhZe0rPzcZWh_O3fFOnQcqf6FRZY093-DexlYYH8EbSyJTpX9Qvmn1We3qv3LhR5POhYxo-fcDREb6x4ha8LjX-tv2kSDs4Ei-0jBh3k5ro-i-Ij7bikJBQ983haqBvKGNfO/s400/P1000696.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The folklorica band Zack plays with came to perform in my town</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">settin down the rhythm</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">one of the little devils from a typical dance</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the "desfile" or march</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What's to come?</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, with only 2 1/2 months left there isn't a lot of time to do much, but that doesn't mean I won't try! I am restarting my Health Promoters group so that we can get more sex education classes in the high school. I'm also hopefully starting vocational orientation classes with the older students. Next weekend is our highly anticipated annual all-girls leadership camp, ALMA, and in 6 weeks we have our all-boys leadership camp, VALOR. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We actually haven't been fully funded for VALOR yet, so, shameless plug, please help support our camp! This is your opportunity to help us directly with a projects, and this will be my last camp as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Without all the funding we won't be able to have the camp, and this is an incredible opportunity for boys from PCV communities to learn about leadership, communication, vocational orientation, gender and equality, sex education, y mucho mucho mas! Please click on the link to get to our funding website, which is a safe site (and everything is tax deductible!) <b><a href="https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-527-019" target="_blank">Camp Valor Lambayeque 2013</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next couple months are going to be pretty crazy, filled with a lot of emotions and hopefully good times. I will take more time later to delve into stuff like that, but this update will have to do as I already have to get back out the door to continue with work and preparing for the weeks to come.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Much love!</span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-67789513948671747312013-04-23T18:11:00.000-05:002013-04-23T18:25:03.624-05:00Memories, mammaries, and diarrhea; A guest blog from my BFF BeckyHello readers of Amanda's blog! You probably don't know me. Mostly because I don't blog, I'm not in the Peace Corp, and I'm not Amanda…whose blog this belongs to. BUT I recently went to visit Amanda all the way from Seattle, Washington where I live, work, and play a whole bunch. Amanda asked me to write a little diddy about our adventure. Despite my writing skills being less than a fifth graders, I agreed. Because I love her.<br />
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I guess i should probably give you an idea about how I even came to Peru to visit Amanda in the first place. </div>
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Amanda and I grew up in a town called Challis, population 909, in the middle of nowhere Idaho. Like the most middle of nowhere you could probably imagine. We met on our first day of pre-school. Being such a small town, best friends for life aren't easy to come by, but Amanda and I managed to work it out. We grew up together, went to college together, lived together, and shared everything. Like so much, you don't even WANT to know the details. So I'll spare you. Just get the idea that this girl has been my best friend and soulmate since we were wee. So when Amanda decided to join the Peace Corp, I figured I'd be a total dummy to not go visit her wherever she was.<br />
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Now…ONTO THE VACATION.</div>
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While I was in Peru, I bought a small notebook and made bullet points about each of the towns that we went to or just about my observations in Peru in general. It was so vastly different than any place I had ever been that I figured it warranted its own notebook. I'll try my best to regurgitate the trip in a nutshell and highlight the details from my notebook.</div>
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<span style="color: #20124d;">[side note from Amanda: All of the following pictures are taken by Becky! She did a great job of taking photos I always want to, or forget to take.]</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Lima!</span> </b></h2>
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Amanda picked me up at the airport late at night and we were both pretty tired, so we just went straight to the hostel. We walked around the city the next day and it was beautiful, smoggy, and interesting. Here are a few of the details:<br />
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<ul>
<li><b>Cats LIVE IN THE PARK.</b> A ton of them. So many that there is a sign asking people to no longer dump their cats in the park. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Granadilla: the grossest looking fruit you'll ever see in your life.</b> You crack a plum-size nut looking fruit open and expose the seeds that you eat. And those seeds look EXACTLY like bug larvae. Amanda loves this fruit. I tried it, because I think it's an important part of the culture to try foods, but I did not love it. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><b>Bus rides where you LAY DOWN ALL THE WAY.</b> Peru has a pretty great bus system. It's how people get around the country. They're big ol' double decker buses and for the right prices, you can get yourself a super relaxing twelve hour bus ride in a comfortable seat that completely reclines. This is what we took to get to…</li>
</ul>
<h2>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Chiclayo!</span></b></h2>
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Chiclayo is Amanda's regional capitol and is only about forty minutes from her site and has THE BEACH. I mean, I get it, Peru is a coastal country. Duh. But when I think of beach vacations, I think tourists. The beach in Chiclayo is not full of that. Not full of tourists (except for me) and it was AWESOME.<br />
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<ul>
<li><b>Pacai: another weird fruit thing </b>where you peel back the outside and eat the weird seeds on the inside. But this one was way better. And you don't actually eat the seeds, you eat this fluffy white encasing that surrounds the seeds. Tasty and waaaay better texture than granadilla.</li>
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<ul>
<li><b>Bodoque:</b> <b>this popsicle in a plastic bag</b>, usually with milk, and usually interesting fruit flavors. DELISH.</li>
<ul>
<li>*also let me just add here about how SWEET EVERYTHING in Peru is. Especially the drinks. People don't drink bottled water much (you can't drink water from taps, so families boil it in their homes if they need hydration) so if you have to buy something, why not buy something with a little zest!? Lika Inca Kola, Peru's favorite neon yellow soda that tastes like bubble gum and will send you into diabetic shock in less than sixteen ounces. I'm more of a salty over sweet gal, so you can imagine how tough snacking in Peru was for me. Amanda's addiction to sugar (as it's a huge comfort food for her) is also entertaining. But that would be a whole different blog.*</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Ceviche!</b> One of Amanda's favorite thing to eat in Peru. She forgot to tell me that it was just warm sliced raw fish in lime juice. Taste is great, texture is something to get used to. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Combis. </b>Not sure if I'm spelling it it right, but they're these very convenient little buses that get you through town for super cheap. Also, the way people drive in Peru is terrifying.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>The market where people buy all their goods.</b> THIS WAS AMAZING. A huge open air market that snaked its way around a couple city blocks. It was covered with blue tarps and was a maze on the inside. You can get everything you need at the this market from your voodoo dolls and shaman herbs to your pork for the evening dinner to party supplies. What I liked most about this market is that it's all local vendors and an integral part of the community. It brings people together and it helps people support one another.</li>
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<ul>
<li><b>Cuyes.</b> No, I did not eat cuy while I was in Peru at all. But from our hostel, we could see cages and cages of cuyes being raised for food on one of the roofs of the building next to us. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><b>Sleepy people.</b> Amanda, her friend Zack, and myself had a conversation about how sleepy people in Peru seemed to be. They fall asleep on buses and combis pretty quickly and easily. We hypothesized it has to do with the heat, the amount of carbohydrates consumed (rice AND potatoes with every meal) and the amount of MSG used in food. Regardless, people are sleepy in Peru.</li>
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<h2>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Amanda's site!</span></b></h2>
Amanda's host site is a little town with about 4,000 people south of Chiclayo in what they call the campo. Which what I gathered, roughly translates to the farm country kind of area on the coast. When we arrived it was about a million degrees and the power was out. This sent me to the comfort of the cement floor in Amanda's bedroom. Not like it really matters. There is no air conditioning in Peru. Unless you're a department store or something fancy like that. Or Starbucks. Starbucks will always have air conditioning.<br />
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<ul>
<li><b>Piter!</b> He's the dog of Amanda's host uncle. She takes him for long walks as he's just a puppy and needs to run around. He lives in the back of Amanda's host uncle's house with the cocks he raises for cock fighting. Yeah, that's a thing in Peru too. Amanda says she still hasn't quite acclimated to that part of the culture. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</li>
<li><b>The cemetery.</b> Every time I go to a Latin American country, I HAVE to visit the cemetery. Their attitudes and rituals toward death are so much more progressive and healthier than ours, in my humble opinion anyway. And the effort that they put toward loved ones tombs to make them beautiful is AMAZING. And fortunately for me, this is where Amanda takes Piter on walks so he can run around like crazy.<br />
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</li>
<li><b>Skulls!</b> Some of the tombs at the cemetery were broken open, just from weather and wear, I'm sure, but we kind of poked our heads in some and saw real life skulls. Which is terrifying. I hopefully didn't catch any bad juju while I was sticking my nose in there.</li>
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<li><b>Mango bread.</b> Amanda and I made mango bread one day using gluten free flour (Amanda can't eat the glutens) and it may have been the most delicious thing I've ever consumed in my life. </li>
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<ul>
<li><b>Mango maggots. </b>I was about halfway through mauing down on a delicious mango that Amanda had so generously chopped up for me one morning when I realized there were little white maggots crawling in it. Oh well. Just some extra protein I guess.</li>
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<ul>
<li><b>Chicken.</b> Just so everyone knows, I have been a vegetarian since 2007. And I ate a metric shit ton of chicken in Peru. And from what I remember of chicken here, the chicken in Peru is FAR superior. Probably because they come from the market and were killed earlier in the day when the chicken here is typically from a gross factory farm and frozen on a truck for a significant amount of time before it ever makes it to a kitchen table. But I digress…</li>
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<ul>
<li><b>The Zaña River</b>. This little river is what keeps this desert region flourishing. And it has some killer sunsets. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h2>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Huanchaco!</span></b></h2>
A little tourist town right on the beach about a 4 hour bus ride south of Amanda's site. It's BEAUTIFUL.<br />
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<ul>
<li><b>Tourists. Are. Everywhere. </b>After getting used to not being able to communicate with anyone and experiencing a legitimate Perivual lifestyle for a few days, it was definitely a shocker to roll into Huanchaco and hear English spoken all around me. It wasn't bad, but it took some readjusting.</li>
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<li><b>Turtles! </b>Giant turtles (or tortoises?) lived in our hostel in the common area. So cute!</li>
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<li><b>The beach.</b> The beach in Huanchaco is beautiful and one of its main draws for tourists and surfers. </li>
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<li><b>Food poisoning. </b>I didn't get to see as much as Huanchaco as much as I wanted due to violent food poisoning. That I got from VEGETARIAN PIZZA. Seriously. I was eating so much stuff that I wasn't used to and then the one thing that gets me is the same crap that I eat in the states. Amanda thinks that maybe the cheese they used on it was unpasteurized. That would make sense. </li>
<ul>
<li>*while I'm thinking about it, you also can't really eat fruits or vegetables in Peru that have peels on them. Well, you can, but it's not recommended if you're only going to be visiting for a short period of time as it takes your body some time to get used to the amount of pesticides that are used on them and can make you sick. I would also like to add here that none of the vegetables on my vegetarian pizza had any peels on them. Which just adds insult to injury. </li>
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Amanda and I got back on a night bus and headed back to Lima the night after food poisoning ravaged my body. Once back in Lima, I was still feeling pretty out of it and slept a bunch, so I won't add more details to that day.</div>
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But now I'm back home and have been home for awhile. Peru was so unreal and amazing and everything I wanted it to be. I would never be able to put everything I wanted down in a guest blog post, but hopefully this gives you a bit of an idea of what it's like to go hang with your bestie in a foreign country that she's been living in for almost two years. Which is where I'd like to end this whole blog. Amanda is doing some ridiculously awesome things in Peru. And she has grown so much in the past two years and I think proud is the only word I can use to describe how I feel about her. She is able to haggle with cabbies in perfect Spanish. She's able to navigate confusing cities and stick up for herself in tense situations. I'm so blown away by her adaptability to a foreign country that she's been able to call home for some time. Seriously. She is so inspiring and doing so great out there. Thanks Amanda for letting me come to see you on your adventure and letting me share this part of your life with you! I can't wait to see what other adventures we have up our sleeves together. But until then…I'll see you when you get home!<br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">Thank you Becky for the great blog! You didn't think I would keep the title you jokingly suggested, did you? I loved having you visit to see my little corner of Peru, it meant a lot to me that you would come all this way. It was also great to see Peru through your eyes and have the chance to show you all I've been up to. We have known each other for almost our entire lives and been friends longer than most marriages last, and I can't express how nice it was to have my best friend there and just <i>get it. </i>I love you!</span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-89237812821753136262013-04-11T17:46:00.003-05:002013-04-11T17:50:57.238-05:00Sh*t my host dad says-- literally. Bonus VideoZack came over to my house yesterday so that we could go ghost hunting (more on this later). We were sitting at the dinner table talking with my host dad, occasionally breaking off and talking in English on the side. We were busting a gut laughing when my host dad quickly picked up on one of the words* we were using.<br />
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*¡Warning! This video has some language in it, specifically one four-letter word, repeatedly.<br />
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My host family has become a very important part of my Peace Corps service, and my host dad's wit and commentary both a blessing and a burden.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've been posting funny quotes from my host dad on facebook and on here, but I haven't told you much about him. My host dad grew up here in my site with 12 brothers and sisters, a few of which have passed away over the years. He went to college and got a degree in physical education/sports. He mumbles like crazy and kind of sounds like Marlon Brando in the Godfather, and often my friends who visit have a hard time understanding him. He is a jack-of-all-trades and has so many different jobs and hobbies I can't keep track of them, from working in the school system, to building tombs in the cemetery, to bouncing at my host uncle's discoteca. He has 5 false teeth and occasionally he'll take them out and surprise me with a big grin. He is the definition of <i>chismoso, </i>a person that revels in gossip and other people's business, and when walking around town I occasionally run into him shooting the shit with neighbors. He has to put his two-cents in about everything. He's smart, a good father to his children, and a hard worker. He is an atypical Peruvian dad, as he takes a huge interest in his children's education, cleans the house, and has been known to make a meal for the family every now and then. We have a lot of interesting and fun conversations, and equally as many fights and disagreements, but it is always water under the bridge at the end of the day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Many of you have told me how much you enjoy the posts about my host dad and feel that you like him and would love to meet him. It is nice to hear that our conversations can be translated into something that others can enjoy. Without further adieu, here is the third installation of some of the funnier shit my host dad says.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;">On appearances<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host dad: So, are you going
to iron your sweater, or is it supposed to look all wrinkly and disheveled?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">---<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host dad: ¡Que feo soy! [I
am so ugly!]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: [stare blankly]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: All of my white hair,
ugh, it’s so ugly. White hair is super ugly, huh?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: No, no, it’s not ugly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: ¡Bien bandita eres!
[You’re mischevious, lying, etc] You tell me, “No, no, you’re not ugly, it’s
not ugly,” but you’re smiling the whole time you say it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Proper eating<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">[Zack
was over at my house and my host dad and host siblings were snacking on animal
crackers, so they offered him some. He started eating them and my host dad
interrupted him suddenly]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD:
Whoa, whoa, slow down! You’re doing it wrong! First you eat the head. Then you
eat the feet. Then you eat the rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">[Zack
follows suit]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD:
See? Tastes better, doesn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">---<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host
dad: I want a tamal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host mom: A tamal? At this
hour?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: The stomach knows no
hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">H. Mom: You’re going to eat it
cold?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Hot or cold, the stomach
doesn’t care. It’s all the same temperature when it reaches the stomach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: There are other reasons
to heat up your food, like texture, taste, and killing bacteria.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: All bacteria is killed
the first time it’s cooked. The rest is psychological. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: And then more grows on
it as it sits out. There are bacteria everywhere, and that’s why you have to
heat your food up to a certain temperature to kill it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">[At that moment I took a sip
of me tea, which was way too hot] “HOT!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">H. Mom: Did you burn yourself?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Yeah, super hot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">H. Mom: That should kill all the
bacteria!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b>An eye for an eye</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: You know what I think they should do with criminals?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: What?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Put them all on a boat, take them far out into the ocean, then put weights around their feet and throw them overboard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: That's what the mob does.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Well it's what the police should do. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: That's a little extreme, don't you think?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: No. We should also cut the hands off of thieves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Uhmmm...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Health<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After weeks of various
different symptoms that never really added up to a cold, the flu, or anything
that antibiotics could be prescribed for, the doctors suggested I give a stool
sample to see if I have a parasite.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The last time I had a
parasite (giardia) my host family all but didn’t believe it was possible.
“Giardia doesn’t exist here,” my host mom said as she looked at me confused
when I told her the diagnosis, which of course isn’t true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So when I went in to give
another stool sample I just told them I had a doctor’s appointment, because
they tend to freak out when I’m sick. In fact, until I can demonstrate that I
am completely healthy it is nonstop suggestions and ideas on what’s wrong with
me and how I can fix it. After coming back from my regional capital, the questioning
ensued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host Mom: And? How’d it go?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Fine, I have to wait for
the results.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host Dad: How are you
feeling? What’s wrong?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: I’m feeling fine right
now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: And your stomach? How is
your stomach?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Fine, it doesn’t hurt
all the time, just sometimes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Are you on your period?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: …No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: You’re not? Because
sometimes when women have stomach issues it’s because of her period. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Well, it’s been going on
for a long time, it’s not my period.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: I know what it is,
you’re stressed. You’ve been very stressed lately and this is causing all your
problems.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">-A couple hours later-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: I know what’s wrong with
you, you drink way too much coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">H.Mom: No, it’s not the
coffee, the coffee just keeps you from sleeping, and she hasn’t been drinking
coffee at night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: I know what your problem
is, you eat too much aji [hot sauce]. Too much aji can upset your stomach!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: I hardly ever eat aji. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Yes you do!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: No, I swear, I barely
ever eat it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Then whose aji is that
in the fridge?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">H.Mom: That’s mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: What in the world are
you doing eating so much aji? Why do you need aji? Aji is only going to make
you sick!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">-One week later-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: What’s wrong with you?
You seem down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: I’m just not feeling
very good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Still? What did the
doctor say?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: That everything came
back normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: You see? I told you,
you’re fine, it’s just stress. Stress can cause stomach problems, headaches,
fatigue and all of that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: You’re probably right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: I am right. And why are
you stressed anyways? You don’t have kids, you eat 3 meals a day, your life is
easy. Quit stressing out!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgneQsXeH8iT3F-zuVXe6NerEIldzu_2PR8lNrxU5u-DvVdqOAyion8b6esc6OsbPdVzXepAuoKsbk0w7S9NsOniDuw5H_mJpTtADun0FNSzH-NvCk9ALQ4-8MsIJqM9O0dWNxOmlqEOwGj/s1600/amandanavidadymas12+086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgneQsXeH8iT3F-zuVXe6NerEIldzu_2PR8lNrxU5u-DvVdqOAyion8b6esc6OsbPdVzXepAuoKsbk0w7S9NsOniDuw5H_mJpTtADun0FNSzH-NvCk9ALQ4-8MsIJqM9O0dWNxOmlqEOwGj/s400/amandanavidadymas12+086.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host dad headed out for one of his many random jobs; night security at a well.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAiggD4dgW7exz6Ci1dw5RnlQRx1qyUf2wp66lWy7GS-mCLZ4h1HwHMC7fONBzSN_Z69Eq6h12jVxIwUYJNhv9WGK0eudOvkeB2yvGWAiYUlNwghjvpR_us6lR9iiklh3YbWgqIipNYHL/s1600/P1020133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAiggD4dgW7exz6Ci1dw5RnlQRx1qyUf2wp66lWy7GS-mCLZ4h1HwHMC7fONBzSN_Z69Eq6h12jVxIwUYJNhv9WGK0eudOvkeB2yvGWAiYUlNwghjvpR_us6lR9iiklh3YbWgqIipNYHL/s400/P1020133.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carnaval! Throwing baby powder at each other at a party.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30nRUPRqyh5Uh9O6FjNjQqROtqsfMNTCxlmGtGx-Iir1_SwsQ6AwJZ_zxGPI0Th3arJqHV1zncBr-n3kGWYxpbIPtu0hkIe4_Mm41kEJaGdX3nkiqK_iJY2vRrxn2HmQ6KGmAO4FqMOHq/s1600/P1020141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30nRUPRqyh5Uh9O6FjNjQqROtqsfMNTCxlmGtGx-Iir1_SwsQ6AwJZ_zxGPI0Th3arJqHV1zncBr-n3kGWYxpbIPtu0hkIe4_Mm41kEJaGdX3nkiqK_iJY2vRrxn2HmQ6KGmAO4FqMOHq/s400/P1020141.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Host dad and I, covered in baby powder from carnaval craziness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;">On the important things in life<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: You should buy a house
here. Actually better yet, buy land then build your own house, that way you can
have it how you like it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Okay, sounds good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: But just get the basics;
don’t go buying a bunch of fancy stuff, just what you need to live. The most
important thing is food and to eat, am I right? Don’t go buying expensive
furniture, expensive things. Some people buy couches and they get upset if it
gets dirty and say, “Hey don’t put your feet on the couch!” But what happens if
I have a couch I barely use? I keep it nice and clean and then I die, my wife
remarries, and then some other guy is sitting on my couch. Better I enjoy it
now and put my feet up. Because you can’t take it with you when you die, am I
right? They give you a nice white shirt and then put a blanket over your legs
because no one looks below the waist at someone in their coffin. Nope, you
can’t take it with you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">---<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: All of our children are
weak and don’t know what it is to suffer, am I right? Before women used to have
10, 12 kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Yeah…that’s a lot of
kids.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Now, women only have one
and they don’t even want to push out their baby! They don’t even want to deal with
pregnancy! Look at you, how old are you? You don’t have any kids, and why?
Because you’re scared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Umm….it actually has to
do with the fact that I’m not ready to support a child, nor am I in a position
to take care of a child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: How old are you, 24?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: 26<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Well you’re not getting
any younger. When you finally get married and have kids, you take care of
yourself, you and your husband. Neither of you should drink for at least 5
months. You don’t want your baby being born a drunk. You want your baby to be
strong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Yeah, when the time
comes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Well, don’t wait too
long, cause you’re what? 23?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: I’m 26<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: And your boyfriend?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: 26, the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Well…just don’t wait too
long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b>Dating</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host dad: Kayla [my host mom's nickname] was so shy and quiet when she was young.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: Yeah?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Yeah, she would blush and hide her face whenever I walked by her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: How did you two meet?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Here in town.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: You just both grew up here and knew each other?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Yeah.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: So how did you start dating?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: She called me up one day and invited me over to her house for candy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Host mom: </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">[from the other room] </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">LIAR!!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Aging<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: Ugh, cebada is gross, am
I right? It only tastes good cold, am I right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">[Cebada is a drink made out
of barley. I can’t drink it since I’m gluten free]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: What about emoliente, the
hot drink with cebada in it? What do you think of that? [Emoliente is often
used to cure and prevent ailments]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: No. I’m old. My body is
old, my organs are old, my heart is old, there is no reason for me to drink
that. You? You’re young. You need to maintain your health. Me, I’m done.
There’s no saving or maintaining any of this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">[my host dad is 54]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;">What I suspected all along…<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">HD: I like to talk and have
conversations, but I also like to say the contrary of the other person. If
everyone agrees in a conversation, it’s boring and short. You, you don’t always
agree with me, and I like that, and our conversations are better and longer
because of it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-67011338008862385922013-03-12T17:21:00.000-05:002013-03-13T11:01:02.172-05:00Mi más sentido pésame<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiiMpAUVi6elUHSqegc1KThvvR4TgXV3bVoEQZ8expgb0tNKY_m8AcSDFsSWCr-AbDFHkrNtODi5AcxbyyqmpXmYvDZZzADPlmwFGzj0WSXAPKrLLNiTIJxfISWjA6cCP13xTGrHPjaOE2/s1600/P1020176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiiMpAUVi6elUHSqegc1KThvvR4TgXV3bVoEQZ8expgb0tNKY_m8AcSDFsSWCr-AbDFHkrNtODi5AcxbyyqmpXmYvDZZzADPlmwFGzj0WSXAPKrLLNiTIJxfISWjA6cCP13xTGrHPjaOE2/s400/P1020176.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cemeterio de San Francisco</td></tr>
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My good friend Becky recently came to visit (Becky will talk more
about the trip in her upcoming guest blog!), and we went on a lot of walks in
my town, and I took her on Piter and my usual route out to the cemetery. Becky
and I share a love for cemeteries, so it was fun to walk around and also share with her a part of my everyday. I showed her my host grandpa’s tomb and told
her about the parties we often have around his tomb on the anniversary of his
death, his birthday, and día de los muertos, and how the whole family will come
together and take a day off of work to celebrate him and be together. It has
been five years since my host grandpa’s passing, and in my almost-two years of
service I have been to a handful of these celebrations and always enjoyed them.
I never knew my host grandpa, but they are comforting and my host family speaks
of him so fondly. When I told Becky about this we talked about how this is so
different from things back home, but it seems in many ways better. It seems
like a better way to grieve. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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When I got back from my vacation with Becky (we went to a couple places out of my site), I arrived early
on Sunday morning. I readied myself for a quiet day of unpacking, napping, and
getting ready for the week when my host mom came into my room. She asked me to
go with her to the house of her sister’s father-in-law because he had died.
Whenever my host mom asks me to do something, I do it. I asked her what clothes
would be appropriate, and despite feeling wracked from a 12-hour overnight bus and
the temperature reaching somewhere in the 90º’s, I pulled out my black slacks
and a nice button-up shirt. I hadn’t been to a wake or funeral in my town
before but I had seen the processions walking by my house and walked by the groups
of people sitting in chairs outside of the deceased’s home for days. I knew at
the very least that this would be a long day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I walked with my host mom and my host grandma a mere block
away from my house to reach the wake. Within the short time it took us to
arrive I already felt sweat on my brow and upper lip and my legs felt
suffocated with the first time I’d worn pants in months. Outside of the home
there were at least 50 people sitting in plastic lawn-chairs under a small
temporary awning structure built to offer some cover from the sun. We quietly
greeted everyone, some I knew, most I didn’t. As we went to enter the home my
host mom held me back to tell me how to give my sympathies in Spanish. “<i>Mi más sentido pésame</i>,” she instructed
me, a phrase that can loosely be translated as “feeling the weight” or the pain
of those suffering the loss of their loved one, or being their to take the
weight and pain. When I entered the house I saw why so many people were sitting
outside, as the entire house was filled with mourners, and I was directed to a
smaller room next to the main living area. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The room was filled with large and beautiful bouquets of
flowers and the closest family members sat along the edges. My host
grandma walked in before me so I just followed her lead and waited my turn to
give sympathies to the widow and others. In the middle of the room was the
casket, open, with a piece of glass laid over the top. I assume the glass has
something to do with the embalming practices, as well as the customary two-days
the family spends with the deceased in the home. In regular embalming practices
the fluids are drained from the body and replaced with chemicals, and it is
made sure that the eyes and mouth are shut. However, that is not always how it
is done here. In this case, the deceased appeared to be at least partially
embalmed, however his mouth was open and filled with cotton, as was his nose,
and it appeared as though his eyes were sewn shut.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it was my turn to give my sympathies, I hugged those sitting
closest to the casket and said the words my host mom had told me to. They
received my hugs and thanked me sincerely, and I made my exit as many more
people had come in behind me. As I was leaving a woman stood over the casket
and laid her head down on the glass and sobbed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Outside the crowd had grown larger. I was offered a seat
right next to the door to the house and I settled in for what I knew would be
two-hours of waiting until we moved on to the church. More and more people came
and entered the house, returning outside to find a place to wait. Sweat ran
down my back and soaked my shirt and I fought off falling asleep as the heat
baked all of us in our nice clothes. There were murmurs of quiet conversation,
weeping and whaling, and the people kept coming. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my time in Peru I have been in so many situations that
made me uncomfortable or that I felt awkward and unsure of myself. I have found
myself in situations in which I had felt like an intruder on a private moment. I
have wondered out loud, “what am I doing here?” And somehow at the wake of a person I hardly knew, hours
in and not even halfway through its completion, I realized this wasn’t one of
those moments. I realized that I no longer have those moments. While this
person was a neighbor that I had passed on countless runs, I did not know him
well, but I did not feel like I did not belong. It did not bother me to see him
in his casket. The community had come together to bear the weight of the loss
of a loved one, and I am now a part of that community. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it came time to move on to the church, to carry the
casket and the man out of his home for the last time, there were hundreds of
people present. Being a small town the church is only a few blocks from
anywhere, so the group walked slowly on to the church following a
marching band.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The funeral continued with a mass at the Catholic Church
(which was filled to the brim) for another two hours, and then followed by a
procession to the cemetery. I handed kleenex to my host mom and host aunt as we exited the church and watched as
people clung to the casket, kissing their hands and touching it, and cried as it was carried out. My host mom and
host grandmother decided it would be okay to leave at this point although the
ceremony would continue on for at least another two hours. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We parted ways with the group heading to the cemetery and my
host mom continued to cry and tell me how the funeral had reminded her of her
father's. We stopped at a bodega on the way home and she bought us popsicles and
we ate them in silence as we walked home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may seem strange to say, but in many ways the wake meant
a lot to me. I’m glad my host mom invited me. It immediately put me
side-by-side with people in my community and grounded me after returning from
vacation, which can be difficult. It gave me an opportunity to participate in a part of life that I often stay away from. It allowed me to realize how much I’ve grown
personally, and within my community as an honorary member. It showed me how
much my host mom appreciates my presence, even in times of sadness. In my first months of service I would not have
been able to handle a wake or funeral, but I also wouldn’t have been invited. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are many things about the small Peruvian community I
live in that I have come to really appreciate. Yes, it is humble and still developing, but their interconnectedness as a community and willingness to bare the weight of others, to share the load, is one I admire and hope to emulate. Maybe Peruvians are less disconnected and separated from death because they don't have the privilege and opportunity to do so, but their customs are something I would never change. I am humbled and honored to become apart of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-719289049895964512013-02-07T12:12:00.000-05:002013-02-07T12:12:11.221-05:00Forbidden Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone in my town wants me to fall in love with a Peruvian and stay forever. Or maybe they don't even want this, but they assume this will happen regardless of the fact that I have a boyfriend back in the US. If I love Peru, I will surely fall in love with a Peruvian and never leave.</span><br />
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, despite myself I have indeed fallen in love with a Peruvian. His name is Piter (Peter), and he is my host uncle's dog. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FRlZx1HADUUbvCG4_EpGxPd_T2PekHaZ2u94LcrZSUqPVjMlMDWIIFO2RzqnOpiivDvHv8IuKx34ZGpwIkLoqWeCZT40zYSGhVrukNaTQ3daUf9BvRjRiF7S9KuBdbJ-WHlTkEPXrFgJ/s1600/IMG_2244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FRlZx1HADUUbvCG4_EpGxPd_T2PekHaZ2u94LcrZSUqPVjMlMDWIIFO2RzqnOpiivDvHv8IuKx34ZGpwIkLoqWeCZT40zYSGhVrukNaTQ3daUf9BvRjRiF7S9KuBdbJ-WHlTkEPXrFgJ/s400/IMG_2244.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Piter is a 9-month-old mutt, and my host uncle bought him June 2012. I remember being surprised that he got the puppy and skeptical, yet hopeful that he would take good care of him.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The thing is most Peruvians have a very different relationship with animals than people in the US do. In general (meaning I can't in any way speak for all Peruvians, because I do know people that have pets they care for) "pets" live in a state of neglect. Dogs are seen more as pests than man's best friend.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I couldn't really tell you if all the emaciated dogs I see roaming the streets eating trash are strays or just uncared for pets, because I haven't seen them in any other way than just running around in packs. Many Peruvians I know have an inherent fear of dogs, giving them a wide birth while walking past them, or preparing to hit or kick them if they get anywhere near them.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Indeed, dogs are kind of scary here. They have lived a hard life and don't really love humans all that much either. One of the reasons I stopped running was the constant issue of being chased by dogs and having to carry rocks with me. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If someone does have a beloved pet dog it is not uncommon for that dog to be poisoned by a neighbor or someone else in town. My host family once had a dog that lived on the roof until someone threw it some food with poison in it. They also put glass in meat. It's sad. Many volunteers have lost pet dogs to these cruel methods. Sometimes the dogs are blamed for killing chickens or other livestock, sometimes they're just seen as a nuisance.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So you can see why I was skeptical for this puppy's future.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple months ago I went to an event for my host family at the discoteca that my host uncle owns, and that's when I saw Piter for the first time in months. He was tied up behind the discoteca (a building that is a block away from my host uncle's house) by a leash that allowed him maybe a 4 foot distance to pace. He had a food bowl filled with rice and potatoes; leftovers from my host family's meals. When I walked around the corner and saw him he literally freaked out with excitement. He was shaking and yapping and so excited to see someone he ran at me, causing him to hit the end of his leash and fly straight on his back. But he was so excited he did it again. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Piter is a puppy. A puppy with a lot of energy, so much energy that he jumps and barks and whines, and he is so happy to be around people he can't control himself. You know, just like puppies usually are. But instead of this being seen as a phase he needs to be trained and worked through, my host uncle saw it as a nuisance and annoyance, my host family deemed him "loco" and put him in the back of the discoteca where he wouldn't bother anyone. Thus, making his anxiety of not having attention even worse. I knew if he just got some exercise he would probably be a lot better behaved, not to mention if someone took some time to train him.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I see a lot of stuff that is hard to see that I can't do anything about. And while Piter's situation is by no means the worst of these, it was one I could possibly help with. So I talked to my host family and told them I love walking, would it be okay if I started taking Piter on walks with me?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And thus began my relationship with this little dog and my decision to train him. I thought to myself, "If only I could show my host family what a good dog Piter is, they will treat him better." So I started taking Piter on walks, teaching him simple commands (in Spanish, of course) to get him to stop jumping all the time, to come when called, etc. I also started buying dog food, giving him a small portion of it whenever I saw him so I could feel better about him eating food meant for him.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a little hard because Piter has so much energy and he just needs a field to run and run forever until his little legs give out from underneath him. But, because I worry about losing him or him getting into poison I can't just let him loose in a field. There aren't parks where he can play or grassy areas in general where he can run free. So, we go to the cemetery.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkR8dyFLEWdIBfdhzEmMR6JnsaD2t7YbOXMPt7YOOfeapxRJIoiAhRLOk9Mbi_OxBtm1r0mnjjTDfcO5_tvRD80rUFXE5ByLAws2tTx4eA2LpZ_9Bu1RG2equIQoRNMkB7Ul9w1c7RLL5/s1600/P1020066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkR8dyFLEWdIBfdhzEmMR6JnsaD2t7YbOXMPt7YOOfeapxRJIoiAhRLOk9Mbi_OxBtm1r0mnjjTDfcO5_tvRD80rUFXE5ByLAws2tTx4eA2LpZ_9Bu1RG2equIQoRNMkB7Ul9w1c7RLL5/s400/P1020066.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piter's a little guy, and probably not getting any bigger</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn1PEmgL5TtqerZZHr9tlmDAC3IpDyvrFLdce91StCcxh7t-oGxS0-UE3ys8WNOqFtdNvIME5L3qqi1kVxaQH37xLDSNk7kV-p8oSWmzXBNeTwOXrtnJB6ko6GpEhmXFgL8unFEGEsz8p/s1600/P1020053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn1PEmgL5TtqerZZHr9tlmDAC3IpDyvrFLdce91StCcxh7t-oGxS0-UE3ys8WNOqFtdNvIME5L3qqi1kVxaQH37xLDSNk7kV-p8oSWmzXBNeTwOXrtnJB6ko6GpEhmXFgL8unFEGEsz8p/s400/P1020053.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out on top of a tomb. Hope they don't hate dogs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cemetery has become our place to go to where he sprints around tombs and runs after lizards and birds and wind-blown trash. It has been a process, but he has made so much progress in our short time together. I have been so proud of him, telling my host family what a good dog he is, how he just needs attention and training and he will shape right up. Since I started walking Piter they moved him back to the house where he can at least see people, even though he has been banned to the back of the house where all of the fighting roosters are kept. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXS4ZQT6JPoTtmbFNnzv8jjUKrPPDmJn7sWGP6yHXjsBOgh8IzHeLgOXqBvx0jQei2scaZYzIj2dfXmdmB6wFdXQ2Z3m0Xjjx3wE31kptqPrgKdGP4BQeTkHlpJ_wMOiQsq1DUr9vD5-6/s1600/P1020079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXS4ZQT6JPoTtmbFNnzv8jjUKrPPDmJn7sWGP6yHXjsBOgh8IzHeLgOXqBvx0jQei2scaZYzIj2dfXmdmB6wFdXQ2Z3m0Xjjx3wE31kptqPrgKdGP4BQeTkHlpJ_wMOiQsq1DUr9vD5-6/s400/P1020079.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One afternoon I let Piter hang out in my room and I made him his now favorite toy from an old gym shirt. Then I started getting fleas on me and I freaked out and took him home. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, my plan has kind of backfired for a couple reasons. A) I love that dog, B) My host family thinks he only listens to me, therefore not elevating his abilities in their eyes, but instead implying that by freewill he is crazy towards them and good for me.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, Piter is kind of crazy for them. They ignore him, they yell at him, my host cousin screams and runs away from him. And then he acts out by destroying things. And then he's get attention alright…by getting beat. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other day my host family was talking about <i>pobrecito</i> Piter and this situation, how he is essentially a dog that isn't wanted by his owner and is often beat, and Piter and I have created a bond.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then my host cousin asked if I could take him back to the USA. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could take him back to the US. It would cost a pretty penny, but with the right paperwork it is possible. But whether or not I am personally able to do that is the question. Where would Piter live? Where I am moving back to doesn't allow dogs. Am I willing to spend up to $1500 on getting a dog home that I don't even necessarily have a home for? And if I were to take Piter, I would want him to become 100% my dog while I'm still in Peru, living with me with my host family so that I can work with him on his behavior and make sure he is "US ready." My host dad has already made it clear he hates all animals that aren't on his dinner plate. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a tough situation I have gotten myself into. I can't just go saving Peruvian dogs because I hate seeing what's happening. Yes, I have access to this one dog, but there are millions of dogs getting treated this way if not much worse. So I decide to "save" this dog and then my host uncle gets bored and sees another cute puppy somewhere and thinks this time it will be different?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, if I'm completely honest, since my host cousin asked me if I could take Piter to the US I haven't visited him. I am too attached. This situation is getting complicated, and I don't know if I am capable of seeing Piter as just a dog I walk. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Piter is a good dog in a bad situation. Piter represents everything in Peru I wish I could just swoop up and love and take care of and save. I don't know where to draw the line. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2v7vZHdQgPA8AdxFlHi5TgG9j24JX6XeiKDSAmaMu-GC_Z-UEJCix5zh1SPj1FD3nXc_WKQSulpVfwICqWvggAM-n4QfaBOSK5cl04spqwwit_HQEhphDjifzY5Y3izhGrkaxJ-YZ-psC/s1600/IMG_2250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2v7vZHdQgPA8AdxFlHi5TgG9j24JX6XeiKDSAmaMu-GC_Z-UEJCix5zh1SPj1FD3nXc_WKQSulpVfwICqWvggAM-n4QfaBOSK5cl04spqwwit_HQEhphDjifzY5Y3izhGrkaxJ-YZ-psC/s400/IMG_2250.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Sue Song. It was so hot outside Piter laid down and refused to walk any further, so I carried him. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-27628137946614444612013-02-03T11:41:00.003-05:002013-02-03T11:41:27.595-05:00This is the yearWell holy moly, cow-heart-on-a-stick, it is February and I have no posts for 2013!<br />
<br />
This has largely been because I haven't had a working computer up until about a couple weeks ago, and then just this week I got internet back in my room again. I have so much I want to tell you all. Like about my incredibly awesome, never-gonna-top-this New Years vacation in Ecuador with some fellow volunteers and my boyfriend. Or how my projects turned out, and the projects I'm already working on for the next school year. Let's not forget that I have enough material to write two "Sh*t My Host Dad Says" posts saved up (I think some of the best yet).<br />
<br />
But above all of those things, this is what I want to tell you right now:<br />
<br />
This is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the year</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I come home!</span><br />
<br />
It's here! I left the USA in 2011, and here we are two years later. I can't believe it! Friends and family, I will see you this year!<br />
<br />
It is bizarre because I still have a lot of time left (around 6 months) but that is nothing compared to when I started. Already my host family and I talk about what it will be like when I leave and discussions are in the works for a replacement volunteer. It's pretty emotional. I am jumping for joy inside that I will get to go home and that I have accomplished a life goal, and then I choke up and sometimes cry because of what that means for my home here.<br />
<br />
Last week my regional coordinator (a Peruvian who is kind of like a go between for the Lima office and volunteers) came to my site to talk to my socios. I first took him to the municipality and after some niceties I told my socia (the secretary of the mayor) about the possibility of a replacement volunteer. She looked at my regional coordinator and said, "Are we not allowed to request that Amanda stay an additional two-years instead of getting a new volunteer?"<br />
<br />
I was actually taken aback by that comment. I didn't imagine that people wanted me around <i>that</i> much. After my RC explained to her that staying was a volunteers choice, everyone in the room turned and looked at me so expectantly. I was a little shocked and all I could stutter out was, "You guys....my family, my friends, my <i>boyfriend</i>." It was a strange moment. I never expected I would be asked to stay.<br />
<br />
We then left to go talk to my amazing socia, the obstetrician, at the health post. On our way there I was doing my usual "Hola, ¿Como estas?" to people as we passed and my RC said, "Wow, Amanda, <i>everyone </i>knows you!"<br />
<br />
"Of course they do," I said. "I'm the only white girl in town."<br />
<br />
I guess that's just how I've seen myself; the ever conspicuous white girl in town who everyone sees running from one end of town to another with a satchel and papelotes, but no one really understands her purpose.<br />
<br />
Having an outsider, a Peruvian nonetheless, come into town and to see these connections so clearly made me realize that maybe I am seen as more than that. You know, Peace Corps is a pretty thankless job. Sometimes (a lot of times) you work your ass off creating a project or a presentation, and no one shows up. Some days you get asked, "Hey, what is it exactly you do?" by people you work with. Or, if you're me, at the end of the school year after fighting tooth and nail to keep the Pasos Adelante group afloat, the director who turned it down time and time again asks, "What is this Pasos Adelante group?" It makes you wonder if it matters that you're here at all.<br />
<br />
When my RC and I got to the health post the OB was with a patient, so he took a phone call outside while I waited. And as I was standing in the hallway of the health post, like I had so many days that year waiting to make plans with the my socia, I started to cry.<br />
<br />
It is the year I come home, and the year I leave another home. The only thing I can do is enjoy every moment as it comes and appreciate it for what it is, because while I may be able to visit in the future, I can never return to this experience.<br />
<br />
Bring it on 2013!<br />
<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-79670376163147107152012-12-24T14:30:00.000-05:002012-12-24T14:30:17.013-05:00Llegó noche buenaMerry Christmas Eve!<br />
<br />
I haven't posted in awhile because my computer has passed on to the other side. It just wouldn't turn on one day with full battery charged. Yep. It's gone. So I've been having to borrow my host family's computer, which means sharing with my host mom and three younger host siblings, two of which are equally as addicted to facebook and youtube as any teenager back home. However, it's been a very nice, freeing experience. I've spent more time writing in my journal, reading, hanging out with the host family, making art...it's been very nice. I'm actually considering not getting internet again once my computer is fixed....<br />
<br />
...which will be when I get to see Justin! A group of us friends are heading to Ecuador Christmas day and Justin is flying in to Quito to meet up with us! It's going to be so great! We're taking a night bus over the Ecuador border, and my friends and I are already preparing to make the bus ride as Christmas-y as possible, with Christmas snacks and Christmas movies. Super happy to have some regular Christmas cheer added into this holiday!<br />
<br />
This is my second Christmas away from home ever in my life, and Christmas in Peru can be tough for volunteers. It is very warm here right now (I'm wearing a sun dress and still a little warmer than I'd like to be), and Peruvian tradition puts more focus on Christmas Eve, <i>la noche buena</i>, specifically midnight on Christmas Eve.<br />
<br />
On the day of the 24th early in the morning preparations for dinner are being made, which won't be eaten until midnight. The whole family stays up (maybe snacking a little) and just before midnight the table is set with all of the traditional food and drink-- turkey, paneton, empanadas, canned peaches, and hot chocolate and wine. The whole family gathers around in anticipation for the clock to strike midnight, and just as it does a designated person in the family places the baby Jesus in the manger of the family nativity scene (every family has at least a small nativity set) and says a prayer, and everyone hugs and says, ¨feliz navidad.¨. Then everyone raises their glass of wine in a toast and dinner commences. After dinner, everyone heads out into the street and to the plaza to say Merry Christmas to friends and neighbors.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJ37IUtHqltJaBodcHzz-S5pnQUtPVYCaQabnPvTNF6xF9aycyz8pyEw2S9NXPPjijhRazRg8vW7pTAkyEC_yExu7z2-bGV5SWLuTJIKicPh1-vxLnCrePGq7gGiH0H5G4L86Ix8KtK8s/s1600/amandanavidadymas12+279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJ37IUtHqltJaBodcHzz-S5pnQUtPVYCaQabnPvTNF6xF9aycyz8pyEw2S9NXPPjijhRazRg8vW7pTAkyEC_yExu7z2-bGV5SWLuTJIKicPh1-vxLnCrePGq7gGiH0H5G4L86Ix8KtK8s/s400/amandanavidadymas12+279.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front of my host family's house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4JQYdMZR8SZ1E4h6yTk-W1nDALIVbuOOxU9xvOlR1ViZSjZwGgAepXRI__AW2K8ET5WaAswlOHfQ5MOUqFYM32GQEtZcXLvsYyLgdK64lBYfSHW60WEFsCFO6cfu9YIuzPpeS2Qap7xr/s1600/amandanavidadymas12+196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4JQYdMZR8SZ1E4h6yTk-W1nDALIVbuOOxU9xvOlR1ViZSjZwGgAepXRI__AW2K8ET5WaAswlOHfQ5MOUqFYM32GQEtZcXLvsYyLgdK64lBYfSHW60WEFsCFO6cfu9YIuzPpeS2Qap7xr/s400/amandanavidadymas12+196.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with the high school 3rd grade girls and the tree we decorated for a competition. I mostly just put ornaments in high places.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Honestly, I love the tradition of going out in the middle of the night to the plaza, all of the trees decorated and Christmas music playing, and just walking around saying , ¨¡Feliz navidad!¨ However, I think what makes Christmas difficult is that there is little anticipation leading up to it, and it's pretty anticlimactic. My host family went all out decorating the front of the house this year, but Christmas music isn't played (and to be honest, I'm okay with that. Spanish Christmas music is not my favorite), Christmas movies aren't watched, and Christmas day no one days anything except sleep in. I mean, sure, there are a hundred <i>chocolatadas </i>(hot chocolate and paneton parties for small children, usually with a present involved) but I hardly feel in the spirit while sucking down hot chocolate under the baking sun and watching girls dance around in little Santa outfits that are usually designated to the ¨Slutty Santa¨ section of the Halloween costume area back home. Those are usually more of a headache then they are cheerful.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut5jla564bmxI2kPmBrXP5Ick4J36GxlwCc3PzieNTF2fEt98Q084JwBiUX82nDdEmfgxzkHIBHonTNmrQWQmdvEuxk9kXhQIxXvNc_GbaXHpzo04QyZJl8nRbAchHcPoJOSkrtbvCIm0/s1600/amandanavidadymas12+229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut5jla564bmxI2kPmBrXP5Ick4J36GxlwCc3PzieNTF2fEt98Q084JwBiUX82nDdEmfgxzkHIBHonTNmrQWQmdvEuxk9kXhQIxXvNc_GbaXHpzo04QyZJl8nRbAchHcPoJOSkrtbvCIm0/s400/amandanavidadymas12+229.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High school 4th grade boys singing a <i>villancico,</i> or Christmas carrol.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCknCNr7mUv744mHFiiqn6cCWxL6IH70t8HgsZtNBRUl_Wy-0G7zJVT7_-KMBvgOHgqBaTZsZX_Ddk_qFeD1e-5K7jWNrgs-2J2qGPeFgL7syT8MIDUqU3ur6BAS4l5aDOfauilH-3lYt9/s1600/amandanavidadymas12+236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCknCNr7mUv744mHFiiqn6cCWxL6IH70t8HgsZtNBRUl_Wy-0G7zJVT7_-KMBvgOHgqBaTZsZX_Ddk_qFeD1e-5K7jWNrgs-2J2qGPeFgL7syT8MIDUqU3ur6BAS4l5aDOfauilH-3lYt9/s400/amandanavidadymas12+236.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mothers preparing chicken and hot chocolate for the high school chocolatada</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There's just something about being back home in the cold of winter, everyone seeking warmth indoors and sharing in food, drink, and merriment winding up to the big day. When I'm here it just feels like any other day, and while I'm listening to Christmas music in my room and the words of, ¨Baby it's cold outside,¨ are being crooned out of the stereo, I'm wearing shorts and a tank top and have never felt so far away from that sentiment.<br />
<br />
Christmas away from home is hard, but I'm happy that I have a host family that has taken me in as one of their own and other volunteers who have become great supportive friends and shared the journey with me. While I may be missing all of my family, friends, and traditions of Christmas back home, the sentiment of love, sharing, and goodwill to others is not lost. <br />
<br />
So to all of my family and friends back home, Felíz navidad y prospero año! I hope you are near loved ones and sharing in the spirit of Christmas, and know that I am carrying you all in my heart.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-77809440892471116342012-12-03T23:56:00.000-05:002012-12-04T00:50:03.944-05:00Shedding the guilt and shedding light; that one time when Amanda got all hippy-dippy-woo-woo on her blog<!--StartFragment-->
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixW7CeQvl2bugzVyaLwMN6nGgg00bl0mleiQsvx6pN1c93sTSHwDZMjjd51rbmSI4AfDJ7fCdQTaGywTswxRctm0B9cMbEW_PHqAMu1ymarGUN17WpTBreoYNvJQv5DwvROZBxskvr0NjJ/s1600/P1010163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixW7CeQvl2bugzVyaLwMN6nGgg00bl0mleiQsvx6pN1c93sTSHwDZMjjd51rbmSI4AfDJ7fCdQTaGywTswxRctm0B9cMbEW_PHqAMu1ymarGUN17WpTBreoYNvJQv5DwvROZBxskvr0NjJ/s400/P1010163.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Let me tell you about a
dream I had last night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was with my Peruvian
community and we were preparing for a long journey. I didn’t know where we were
going or how long it would take us (days, weeks, maybe longer), but I knew
things would be better for us there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We chose to take this
journey by boat, raft, kayak—anything that would float—and headed down a
twisting black river. I was on an old raft crammed in amongst others from my
community. We spent all day on the river going through complicated rapids, over
hidden falls, hanging up on trees and root wads. Soon it became pitch-black
night and many of our boats were destroyed, possessions lost, and members taken by the swift current. We were cold, wet,
and tired from the long day with all of our losses. Things were bleak. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As we pulled over for the
night and sat on the shore, I decided to look for resources and I climbed up a steep embankment. When I reached the top I found myself on a
beautiful, well maintained cement path that followed the river. It was not in
fact night, but sunny and warm, and when I looked back in the direction from
where we came I could see the point where we started only 100 yards away. We
had gone through a tough, tumultuous, and long day, but we had barely gotten
anywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was immediately annoyed
and angry with my community, wondering why they had never used the path and why
they had chosen to go along the dangerous and difficult river. It made no sense
to me. But somehow I knew they knew the path existed, they had just always
taken the river.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">(Are you still with me? I promise, I'll get to a point.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Soon the path was filled
with people, specifically people from the U.S. Some of them were my friends,
but most complete strangers. They were wandering this way and that, bumping
into me, bumping into each other, talking about yoga classes, restaurants,
concerts, and clothes. I knew the path could lead all of us to “the place”
where things would be better, the place my community wanted to go to, but they
were content to mingle and spend time along this part of the path. No one
looked me in the eye, no one looked around at all, and they never looked down
the embankment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I didn’t know what to do. I
knew the way my Peruvian community was going was not the best way, but that I
would never get them to leave the river. On the path I was just as lost, pushed
around by a crowd of people who didn’t seem to care about more than their next
destination that would bring them to more personal gain. The dream ended with
me frustrated, sad, feeling guilty for not being able to do more, and angry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I can’t remember the last
time I had a dream that was so symbolically straight-forward in its meaning. This dream is very much how
I feel these days. I am on this journey with my Peruvian community working
towards development, and it is a slow and arduous process, one that can hardly
be measured. I have all these ideas on how things could progress, but I get near nowhere with them. And while I am on this journey with twists and turns that have
changed my life, it will only be for a short while before I return home—the
place where many people don’t get to experience this and have a harder time
understanding it, and in short, have their “first-world problems.” In the U.S. we have so many opportunities the rest of the world doesn't, and yet so often we are stalled, not moving forward. And amongst
it all, I am feeling so helpless. I dearly want to help, but due to so many
factors I am often unable to do anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And as far as where the
river and path lead to…well I’ll get to that in a minute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am not surprised that this
dream followed a skype conversation I had with a dear friend of mine (my Loba!)
who is freshly out of service, having COS’d right before Thanksgiving. I was
telling her about some very upsetting things that have been happening in my
site with the youth and the authorities, and she was telling me about her
transition from campo life to the luxuries of the U.S.A. She is working on
finding peace with the experiences, changes, and transitions with her service,
and feelings that accompany all of it. For example, that we become part of a
community and we live and laugh with these people, love them, mourn with them,
and we become family, but how we also witness a lot of upsetting, tragic
realities in our communities. And then, in her words, we get a “magic ticket”
that just takes us away from it all. But these people don’t get to leave. These
people that we bond to so tightly will continue to have hardships that aren’t
even a reality of our U.S. lives, and in that there is a sense of guilt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It reminds me of a
Huffington Post blog that was being passed around by a few PCV’s titled<i>
Peace Corps Guilt</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">. It was a post written
by a PCV in Paraguay and she talked about the sense of guilt and helplessness
she struggled with everyday in her service, and how it was connected to her
feelings that all the first-world commodities she was still allowed seemed like
frivolous expenses that could’ve in turn been used to do something simple like
feed a starving child, family, community, etc. She wrote about how she never
felt she was able to do enough and wanted to help with immediate needs of
hunger and poverty but she couldn’t possibly solve this problem in a
sustainable way. What it came down to for her, what she knew she could do, was
Peace Corps goal 3; telling those back home about her experiences. And by doing
so she would not solely hold the burden of wanting to change the world, but she
would spread it out to others. Because the guilt associated with never being
able to do enough and allowing others to live in impoverished conditions while
we thrive belongs to everyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The guilt my friend and this
Paraguay PCV are talking about I get. The feeling of helplessness, of never
being able to do enough—oh, I get it. I have loaded on the guilt, telling
myself I could always do <i>better.</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">
I have fought and pushed for projects to go through, and when they didn’t I
took a lot of the blame. I’ve been hiding the fact that I have enough money to
go to my regional capital to watch a movie and get Starbucks a couple times a
month. This is the inherit guilt many of us have when we enter our service,
because no matter how integrated we get into our community, we are at an
economic level that allows us more comfort than those around us. And well, we
will always have that “magic ticket” that we can take at any moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">However, I don’t wish guilt
on everyone (although there are definitely guilty</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> people out there I wish for one moment felt
remorse). While guilt can be a good motivator, it is also an insatiable beast. I think the direction Loba is going in is the right way, in
searching for peace in the midst of this transition. I also agree that
educating people back home and doing our best to explain the reality of our
experience is very important. And maybe I’m getting into a philosophical and
ideological debate here—but do we have to feel guilt in order to be enlightened
and want to change a situation?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Do my friends back home have
to regret their yoga classes and happy hours and feel guilt for every latte
they drank this week in order to learn about the need for a better public
education system in Peru?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Does my family have to feel
guilty for every meal they ever ate at a restaurant in order to understand the
need for basic things like clean running water and waste management in the
campo?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">No, of course not. The U.S.
and Peru have two very different realities. While I may joke about “first-world
problems” everyone really does have their own problems, their own realities.
Hardships come in many different ways. Yes, there is extreme extravagance and
wealth in the U.S., and companies and organizations spending unseemly amounts
of money on things that do not further our world in becoming a better place.
But the people I will be talking to about my experience when I get home (and
now through my blog) are first and foremost the people I love. I do not want to
shower them with guilt, but with stories about all of the unique facets I have
come to love and despise about Peru. I can in no way claim any sort of “higher
moral ground” or martyrdom for being here and choosing to live and work in the
3<sup>rd</sup> world, I have just been allowed a perspective I didn’t have
before; one that I hope I can share with my Peruvian community and with people
back home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ever the idealist, I am
literally <i>dreaming </i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">of a better
place—a place we all want to get to but for our own reasons just aren’t making
our way in that direction. I saw the path so clearly, heading off in the
direction of a beautiful scene of mountains and trees, the sun shining bright.
I don’t know where it was going, and I couldn’t even tell you what it leads to,
but I think it can only be described as progress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-20910413951998934452012-11-21T16:36:00.000-05:002012-11-21T17:11:15.517-05:00See ya next year, Thanksgiving!<style>@font-face {
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Damn. It has been one
hellacious month.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It has been a long time
since I have struggled so much with my work, my counterparts, and my personal
life all at once. I knew when the month started I was in for some challenges,
but I had no idea just how hard it was going to be. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Sometimes when things get
tough there’s not much you can do but “keep calm and carry on” or “fake it ‘til
you make it”. Lie to yourself if you have to, just keep your head down and plow through.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And well, I’ve done a
surprising amount of lying to myself this month. I told myself my insomnia came
back because “it just comes and goes sometimes.” I told myself that if I was
truly a good volunteer and cared about my job I <i>would</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> get everything I wanted to done, despite the lack of
support and help from my counterparts. I told myself, “Yeah, I have the time
and energy to take on a 30-day-50,000-word-fiction-novel-writing challenge. Sounds
fun.” I ignored over a week of stomach issues, saying, “I’m fine, it’s normal
to have diarrhea for over a week,” until I unexpectedly shit my pants. And most
recently, “It’s not a big deal to not celebrate Thanksgiving for one year.”
(Sue Song, if you are reading this and didn’t know already, DON’T KILL ME!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As you all know,
Thanksgiving is not a Peruvian holiday, but being as I am a U.S. citizen
working for the U.S. Government I am still given three days off. Last year all
of us 17ers met in the beach town of Huanchaco and had one of the most amazing
Thanksgiving feasts I have ever partaken in, and the beautiful weather and
ocean sunsets were the icing on the cake.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The problem is, this <strike>month</strike>
year has been so unrelenting with obstacles that some of the projects I could’ve had
done at the beginning of the month are just now starting to happen. The even
bigger problem is the next two weeks are the last weeks I am able to work in
the schools before final exams and summer vacation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If you’ve been keeping up
with me on here and other modes of communication, you may know that I have had
a serious uphill battle in teaching sex education in the school. The whole idea
was to train my health promoters, the 20 kids in my Pasos Adelante youth group,
and they would do presentations in each of their classes with the help of the
OBGYN and myself. Well, <i>that</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">
didn’t work out as planned, but I did what I could and with or without the help
of others I still finished training the whole group on sex-ed. Now, we need to
focus on the rest of the school, and there just isn’t enough time to do things
as we originally planned. Plan A, B, C, and D all fell through, so now I’m continuing
on with whatever I can because while we have wasted a ridiculous amount of time
on this, three girls ages 13-15 had to quit school because they got pregnant.
I’m not going to let myself fall into the “I could’ve stopped it” trap, because that is a slippery slope. But still, I can try and inform the other kids to not make the
same mistake. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I desperately want time with
my friends after this month from hell, and would love to honor my culture and
traditions with a feast that has little to do with the food but
gathering together with those you love and recognizing all you have to be
thankful for-- and lord, would I LOVE to tell a Peruvian that I can’t work
because I have my own <i>feriado largo</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">
I have to attend—but I can’t. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It just so happens that
while my friends are planning a Thanksgiving feast (one I’m supposed to be at),
which I’m sure will be filled with some of the best tasting food a PCV could
imagine, I have finally been granted permission to work with kids in the
classrooms to teach sex education.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> So, instead of taking my free vacation days from Uncle Sam and heading to be with friends to gorge myself, I will be teaching sex-ed at the high school to the older students. It's not the whole school, but it's a start.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I’m not going to lie, it
sucks to be missing out on Thanksgiving. I tried to tell myself, "It's not important," and "It's a US holiday and I'm not in the US," and even, "It's not worth all the work and stress involved." Let's be serious. Thanksgiving is awesome. I love Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving has no religion attached to it, it's just awesome people, awesome food, and warm fuzzy feelings of gratitude (and some cocktails). But I would be lying to myself if I
said I wouldn’t regret missing this opportunity I have been fighting for
literally <i>months</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> to have. I know I am making the right decision because
today when I finished the first sex-ed presentation to a group of 16-year-old
girls and I thanked them for their attention and participation, they said,
“Amanda, thank <i>you</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> for talking to
us about stuff that no one else will.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">This Thanksgiving, my heart is with all of you from Ica to the USA, but I am so so so so so thankful that
I can finally do what I came here to. If there is anyway this month can redeem
itself, it would be for me to be able to arm these students with information
before they go off for summer vacation and possibly make a decision that could
change the rest of their lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Friends in Peru, catch some
rays for me on the beach (I’m ghostly pale these days). Loved ones in the US,
eat an extra piece of pie for me and add “having a job without the occupational
hazard of shitting my pants” to your list of things to be thankful for. Next
year I will be home and Thanksgiving will not be skipped!</span></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5291274126573951556.post-84007827377478440732012-11-03T15:49:00.001-05:002012-11-03T16:34:42.329-05:00In case you don't hear from me for awhile...I just wanted to write a quick post to let you all know I am participating in NaNoWriMo, AKA, <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">National Novel Writing Month</a> (<---check it out!)<br />
<br />
NaNoWriMo is a 30 day challenge to do exactly what it sounds like-- write a novel. A 50,000-word fiction novel, to be more specific. Participants are signed up through the website, give regular updates on the word count of their story, and are encouraged through messages from published authors, sponsors, and "writing buddies" to forge ahead and continue the story. Participants who finish in the allotted time with a 50,000 word story (that consists of more than one word written 50,000 times) can hand in their work for the official check to be considered "winners" (read: big pat on the back and bragging rights). Editing as you go is discouraged and writing at least 1,667 words a day on average is recommended in order to finish on time.<br />
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I had heard about NaNoWriMo before in the past, but hadn't put a lot of thought into it as I prefer to write non-fiction. But this year the universe spoke to me, and it said, "Amanda, spend your free-time writing a fictional story in English that even you don't know where it's going to go. That way the rest of your day will be muddled with constant questions and story ideas, as well as compromised Spanish speaking abilities." <br />
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It's day three, I have 4963 words, 45,037 words remaining, and I can already see the days ahead in which I hate everything about this story and this idea. Which is why it's going to be really fun. It's a new challenge!<br />
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So, I apologize ahead of time if you don't hear from me much this month. Cut me some slack, I'm writing a novel. Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04057535210332443462noreply@blogger.com0