Reconnect My Friends

Here I am! Back from the beach. The beach I visited is called Huanchaco, and is most renouned for it's straw boats that are used to trot the surf. The area is also known as the location of “Chan Chan” the largest conglomeration of adobe ruins in the world...or something like that. Anyway, not only was it a good break from the imminent and advancing rain season in the sierra, it was absolutely sensational to catch up with all my fellow Peace Corps volunteers with whom I shared so many tedious hours in training months ago. Ah yes, to catch up. To share stories, experiences, mishaps, and a Thanksgiving feast; and of course, maybe swap a little music to mix up the playlists. The burlesque facial hair the men accrued was very impressive. Much more so than the fleecy legs of the women Personally, I was most illustrious for my tales of ailment. However, I was quite flattered by a few volunteers who stated that I “wasn't as sickly skinny” as they expected. Thanks!...I think.

It seemed like a vacation. To relax and breath in the salty air as you sink into the sand; to hear the rippling water and crashing waves; to watch the Pacific engulf the Sun at daylights end under the fiery sky. It was a break from Peace Corps, and just life in general. Ever since living on the beach in South Africa, I've held the meditative facets of the ocean close to heart with nostalgic recollection. It's a universal enjoyment to be shared on any beach; anywhere. Even for homegrown Minnesota boys.

We compared, contrasted, and formally presented our projects. Interesting indeed. We're all part of the same program in the same country, but we have such different experiences! We had a few discussion/training sessions. We visited a nearby orphanage for the day. We also had an opportunity to morn the loss of our friends who have decided it best to return home. They are most certainly missed. But mostly, we just enjoyed each others company. More so, it was nice to put pictures with the places I have heard so much about.

Together again, we were beyond merry. We got a little carried away with the liberation from our sites. In fact, I was almost certain some of my fellow PCV's were actually turning into pirates after an untamed seaside role play. The break was needed, deserved, and well beyond expectations. I even had a chance to eat ceviche (a traditional Peruvian dish of raw fish which is “cooked” with lemon juice and peppers). What's that? You don't think that was a good idea for one baring the name “sickboy”? Well, you're no doctor, but you're right. However, it's just so tasty...and to be fare, prior to consumption I looked at one of the Peace Corps doctors and gave them fair warning. Totally worth it.

On that note, I have another tail to tell related to my discriminatory stomach (an absolute euphemism, or course). Unfortunately, my travel down to the seaside was daunting. Yet another time, I faced a spout of illness and spent about 6 hours in a hospital bed before catching the bus to take me where I was going. I have learned that Peace Corps is about resilience...both mental and physical. Luckily, a loyal friend napped bedside to keep me company as I too came and went with needles in my arm. When the doctor returned with the blood test results, he gave me a draconian gaze and announced that I had Typhoid Fever. With a lack of surprise, I looked at my friend and delared “well, that sounds about right”. Of course, in a fluke of developing-world medicine, it was a misdiagnosis. Because I have had the vaccine, my blood holds the antibodies. There's something for you to consider the next time you find yourself with a ludic diagnosis in the developing world.

Upon my return to my department's capital (Huaraz) I once again visited the doctor. There, I stocked up on antibiotics and painkillers to tide me over until I leave for Lima next week. While there, I will be seeing a specialist to see if they can discover what ails me. Unfortunately, the doctors have informed me that I will be residing there until better. However, and more importantly, I will be attending the training for our new Peer Support Network program. Depending on how indomitably you follow this blog, you may recall that I was voted to be my departments representative for this program. A privilege I am quite proud of. I have rhapsodized about how happy I am to be a part of a program dedicated to helping my fellow volunteers. Without a doubt, I will at least be a reliable source for information on local hospitals and clinics...right?

Little House on the Prairie...The Peruvian Addition

As the title foretells, I often wonder if I've been casted in some new reality T.V. show (are those still popular?) reenacting the antiquated classic “Little House on the Prairie”.  Of course, this time, I'm taking on the role of Michael Landon...things might get a little weird.

I can see it now...A gigantic gringo, cast into the great Peruvian mountains; facing fierce weather, strange diseases, and daily encountering unforeseeable occurrences and plot developments reserved for the best screen writers.  Yes.  We could call it “The Simple Life”.  

No.  That's not a very good idea, is it?  With a name like that, it's bound to warp into some tragic follow up to the floppy Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie display that has plagued our generation; and our living rooms.  But who knows?  Maybe that's just what we need...a confident and capable Peace Corps Volunteer, eyeball to eyeball with actuality.  Rather than making a mockery of another lifestyle, I could be demonstrating how dedication and persistence can pay off.  Is it just me, or do you think this altitude is making me a bit off my rocker?

Well, I guess I'm coming off a bit pretentious with the lead character.  It's just that things have been going pretty well down in the valley.  When the sicknesses subside that is.  

I'm finally starting to feel like my house has become a home.  In the physical sense, I've been diligently working on bringing my room up to standard.  For instance, I received a big boost when a retired Peace Corps volunteer made me the proud heir to a small wooden table; which has revolutionized my life (petty yes, but brilliant nonetheless).  Things seem to be going well with my projects as well.  Everything seems to be coming to order.  I'm quite content.

On top of  all this, and perhaps the true source of my jubilation, I'm currently preparing the backpacks for the the beach.  Yes, I'm headed back down to sea level for Thanksgiving.  Ever so swiftly, I've already wrapped up my first three months in site.  The upcoming week is what we call our “reconnect”.  All of the volunteers that were in my training group will be getting together to present a diagnostic of their site.  I'm looking forward to the opportunity to share my life with the friends I haven't seen since we officially became Peace Corps volunteers back in August.  

And, the best part of it is...I'm going to the beach!  I mean, really, I love my mountains.  You know that.  They're great.  But, the tranquility provided by the feel of moist sand beneath me, the roar of Mother Ocean, and the thought of watching the sun plummet into the Pacific waters in a brilliant sunset topped by the stench of thick salty air sounds spectacular.  Just the break I could use!  Thank you Peace Corps!  But most importantly, let's not forget about the friends!

I'm talking real, face-to-face, English conversations!  Wow!  I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving Holiday.  Be extra thankful this year; I surely will be.  You know, I bet I won't even hear the wailing bellows of a donkey for the entire week.  Hell, even Michael Landon never caught a break like this!

Forging Rivers...

Depending on your age group, you may or may not remember playing Oregon Trail on the green-screens in your elementary school computer lab.  Of course, after shooting more bufalo than you could possibly carry in your wagon, it was inevitable that somebody died of dysentery.  Well, that's the first thing that came to my mind when I heard the diagnosis, anyway.  I could just see the headline flashing...”Frank has died of dysentery”.  October was a trying month.

Dead, no.  But a miserable occurrence, nonetheless.   I don't know; maybe it's just all part of the experience.  Everybody faces obstacles.  Some just involve more resilent bacterias and parasites than others.  In inordinate honesty, I've actually obtained a shameful gratification in knowing that I've persevered the irrepressible illness that has taken the lives of brave wondering wanderers such as David Livingstone, Gautama Buddha, Juana Maria and so many friends in that elementary school computer lab.

Yes, October has been a challenging month.  Before the whole dysentery episode, I was beatified with a few other stomach infections as well.  A hazard of the job, I suppose.  I've been a little red-faced to share my misfortunes with you before now.  However, seeing that it's become such a relentless reality to me, I think you ought to know.  To compound the situation, let's not forget that I lack bathroom facilities.  Unequivocally, I have been humbled.

All that said, things are moving along nicely.  When not bed ridden, I've been moving and shaking in the community.  I've been spending a lot of time at my village's school doing various activities with the kids.  I've been up in the bigger city an hour outside of my valley at the orphanage trying my best to stay busy with an array of ventures up there.  I have managed to establish connections with a group of university students in Canada who are exploring the possibility of coming down to my part of the world annually to initiate development projects.  I made some friends with a group of men who make cheese in my village, and have enjoyed observing the production of the product (a process the FDA would certainly not approve of).  I've also managed to begin conversations with an NGO based out of the US who would like me to assist in two two-week projects for students who would come to visit and implement their skills to make developmental strides in the area.  Additionally, I spent a week in Lima with one of my artisan groups.  Peace Corps organized a very nice meeting to teach basic business strategies combined with an artisan fair to sell their good.  The venue was the American embassy...a very enthralling experience; and we were very successful.  Overall, I have been blessed with numerous positive experiences.

However, upon my return, the guys I work with who make soap out of milk decided that “there's no business in soap”.  Personally, I think that there would be a very large market for cleaning products in my area.  But, what do I know?  Right?  Nonetheless, they've decided that they would rather start a business breeding cuy (guinea pigs) for consumption (a very traditional dish in my area).  From milk soap to guinea pigs...it's a bit of a jump, I know.  But I think we can make it work.  Since I don't know much about raising the tasty little buggers, I've been been reading up.  Hopefully, we succeed in our new market.  I'm thrilled at having an opportunity to learn all this not-so-practical information.  

During my down time, I've been diligently working on assimilation and integration.  Exploring surrounding areas and getting to know the people claiming residence.  I've explored cites up and down the valley.  I've bypassed the cities and marveled in the desolate stares of the spiking mountainous peaks.  I've enjoyed the screams of silence.  I've sat, I've stared, and I've wondered about what I can do to help the area without destroying the cultural dynamic which makes it so overwhelmingly interesting.  

In the Spanish language, there is a word “acostumbré”, which encompasses the English “acclimatize”, “habituate”, “inure”, “accustom”, and “adapt” all into one.  In fact, I am asked daily if I have achieved this level of integration.  My response is a well-rehearsed “yes, little by little”, which I hold to be true.  Now, if only I can persuade my stomach to prevail against the odds.