¨Say Hello and Wave Goodbye¨

After an extended session of wandering throughout the month of January, I have officially landed in my new site. It's great. Really, it's like a dream site for a Peace Corps Youth Development Volunteer. I'm living at a much lower altitude and thus enjoy a much milder climate (and still maintaining the mountain views). Some spectacular family members sent me a travel clock with a thermometer for Christmas. Therefore, I can tell you that it hits about 80 degrees in the day and bottoms out at about 65 at night. It's paradise; like living on the beach, but surrounded by mountains (and I have incredible views from my bedroom window). Yes, I even have palm trees and banana plants; a valley paradise, indeed. In fact, the city is nicknamed “dulzura”, which translates to “sweetness”...and I really dig that. My opportunities seem endless, which has me riding a motivational wave. Living in a city of just over 22,000 has also restored a mild sense of anonymity. More so, I have espoused such luxuries as having both a shower and an operating toilet. Yes, things are first-rate, superb.

However, waving goodbye to my old site issued one of the most awkward and cumbersome experiences of my life. It's not that one thing in particular bestowed the perturbation. Rather, it was the conglomeration of repeatedly explaining that I would be on my way, combined with the trounced sense of failure and embarrassment that hit me ungentlemanly. Not to mention that my room had been flooded due to the winter rains. There goes the family, friends, projects, and life I had become accustomed too. The situation proved to be thorny through and through. Living without certainty in one's future is no doubt part of a vagabond code, which I had never felt so exposed to. It was brilliantly catastrophic, humbling, and somewhat peaceful.

Be that what it may, in the paragon that is hindsite, I truly feel like it was for the best (cliché, I know). For certain, I will miss many aspects of that community. In addition, I have a lot of work to do here in order to start anew. Nonetheless, I will NOT be missing the spouts of precarious illness, nor the morning walks through the pastures to find a good place to defecate. It's all gone. It's all behind me; for better or worse...but, I think “for better” pays heed.

I moved in to my new site at a very peculiar time. Perú, along with much of the Christian world is currently celebrating Carnival. Things get especially foreign to me for the duration of the celebration here. Somewhere along the line, water-fights became a ritualistic part of the observance of this holiday. Therefore, at any given time, one is subject to being hit with a water balloon or a brisk bucket shower from a balcony above. Keep your eyes open and be wary of all underpasses. A battle starts suddenly, and with little warning. Some days are a little hair-raising, but I've been pretty careful; doing my best to arrive at meetings in dry apparel. This will continue for the nest two weeks! “You can't beat fun”...but I'm glad to see that they're trying!

However, there are upsides. The community has circumscribed parades, marches, and dances surrounding our plaza. It's been a great opportunity to get out and meet the people. More so, the brilliant colors, loud music, traditional dancing, and smiles have made me feel very welcome in my new community. Good things are going to happen here...I can feel it!

On another note, I also spent a week of last month in the department capital with six other volunteers taking Quechua classes (the native language of the Inca...actually, pre-Inca). Yeah, that's not something that is going to come easy. Especially, when I gaze at my notebook and see a wrecking combination of English, Spanish, and Quechua gawking at me. I even wrote my first song in Quechua and performed it on guitar! It's a dying language, and will serve no purpose beyond my immediate future. Nonetheless, I've always wanted to learn a third language. Perhaps I should have been a little more meticulous with my aspirations!