Happy Holidays!

Still corresponding from Lima, and wishing you the happiest holidays! Little by little my life appears to be getting back to order. That shows promise for the new year...2008 is going to be great!

So, my communication efforts with the former volunteers paid off. The preliminary prognosis forecasts me moving back to the same department I was in before, but now to the northern section. I'll be finally heading out of Lima this upcoming week! The city I will be moving to is famed and well-recognized for it's easy access to beautiful day retreats; mountain lagoons, hot springs, and awe-inspiring views. It's located right where two mountain ranges come within spitting distance of one another. Whereas before, I was in the third mountain range in the southern section of the department. The new site is about 1000 meters lower in elevation (but still at about a mile and a half above sea level). More so, I will have easy access to many commodities, including fresh fruits and vegetables which burgeon in the area. Also...I will have access to the best commodity of them all...the bathroom! That's right, no more fields and holes! Yup, back to the first-class “classy” life.

My primary project there has me working with the hospital...which seems like the perfect counterpart for “sickboy”, eh? In addition, the size of the city (pop. about 22,000) should make it a little easier to pick up secondary projects. It will most definitely be a change of pace, no doubt.

On another note, I'm sure some of you are curious about what the holidays are like here in Peru. Well, like most places, it has it's fair share of traditions and customs. First, Christmas is celebrated on the 24th. On the outset, people shoot off fireworks from dusk till midnight. Christmas Day is reserved for tranquil family time. However, it is the New Year's praxis which are most intriguing.

It is pretty much mandate to have some piece of yellow clothing in your wardrobe as the calendar turns. The most recognized article (for women especially) is having yellow underwear. Of course, the underwear is died yellow...no, you cannot just wear your dingy briefs which you've kept in that drawer since Y2K. More so, they are supposed to be gifted to you. The color of yellow is supposed to have some relevance to luck in the new year.

Another common practice is eating 12 grapes under the table exactly at midnight; one grape for each DONG of the clock. Again, it has something to do with good fortune in the new year. Or, if risking
asphyxiation on bite-sized fruit isn't your bag, you can always race around the block with a suitcase. This is just to ensure that you will travel in the upcoming year.

Lastly, many people in Peru (especially those in the rural areas) make a doll out of straw and dress it up in there clothes. Then, they set fire to the figure. This practice is symbolic of ridding yourself of the year prior and starting out fresh. However, my biggest concern is people burning their cloths just to participate in tradition. This is a practice in my site, but I just don't think that they can afford to burn both a pair of pants and a shirt. Really, I guess you'd better thank your grandma for that shirt she gave you for Christmas...I hope you liked it, because now you'll be wearing it ALL the time!

OK, so I'm sure a few of you are also a little curious in regards to the diagnosis to my ailment. Well, the conclusion was pretty much that I had been too sick too often with various infections, parasites, and don't forget that whole Dysentery thing. The culprit could quite possibly been a number of things such as the water, food, people's general lack of hygiene, or aliens. It's hard to say, really. The heart of the matter being that my insides got pretty ripped up and I became a little over-sensitive. But now I feel good, and damn glad!

I'm ready to get back to a site. I am not looking forward to the goodbyes I will have to say; goodbyes to people, places, and projects. However, I have grown weary of being the vicarious volunteer and having to constantly be on the “listener only” side of conversations regarding accomplishments.

Nonetheless, the one month I lived in Lima has been a ride, no doubt. Really, that's not something that most people incorporate into their Peace Corps experience. In retrospect, it wasn't all bad. I had a rare opportunity to cross paths with a large amount of volunteers as they passed through, I got to meet some of their friends/family/fiancés visiting (even once getting treated to a good glass of whiskey and a Cuban cigar as we watched a sunset), and I got a chance to really get to know another part of this incredible country. More so, I think some of them really enjoyed having a Lima tour guide! However, if I had to change one thing (other than not doing it at all in the first place), I would have disposed of my original optimism when I left site, and packed more than two outfits. These clothes are beat. Is the grunge look coming back yet? Well, at least I was smart enough to pack extra underwear. Otherwise, I would be picking through the bins in the streets trying to find an alluring pair of yellow boxer shorts! I hope you have a Happy New Year and that you revel in the possibilities that lie ahead!

Grounded

Notwithstanding my boredom, I correspond from Lima. Yes, I'm still here. As I approach my two week anniversary, I have just been told that should get comfortable because I may be here awhile. Now, those weren't exactly the rousing words of stimulation I was hoping for.

Now, the first week wasn't so bad. I managed to keep myself pretty busy. The Peer Support Network training/planning session went very well. I am proud to say that I am one of the Committee Coordinators for the rookie program. We set up goals, roles, and a mission statement with a little training and techniques session conducted by a psychologist who works for the embassy.

I also spent a couple of days in the central office helping to redesign the format of how youth develop workers conduct their reports. That too was nice because it gave me a chance to see the Peace Corps office life. (I still prefer the “field work”). I even spent a day at a fellow volunteer who is stationed about 45 minutes away from where I am staying volunteering at an orphanage in her town. I also provided an embarrassing sum of stool samples . Let's just say that if there was a professional league...OK, I'll just stop there.

The specialist I saw the other day provided me with a risible amount of medication; I'm taking four pills a day for two weeks. For the sake of substandard humor everywhere, let's just say that the news was hard to swallow (really, I'm sorry about that one). But seriously, I'll be staying here until I have completed the cycle. Then, we'll take things from there.

To add to discomforts and discontent, I had a rather serious and staggering meeting with the Peace Corps doctor the day following my examination. Early that morning, I went to his office and had been informed that I will need to change sites. Yes, that's it. I really don't have a voice in the matter. The message was quickly relayed to the head of the youth development program who wasted no time in initiating discussion about a new location for me. This was before all the dust even had a chance to settle from the first bomb dropped.

Unfortunately, her ideas did not include keeping me in my current department for fear that my health problem could perpetuate. I was not impressed. I have grown quite attached to area, its colossal mountains, and its resonant culture. However, and again, I really didn't have a voice in the matter. I then went back to the Peace Corps doctor and inquired about possible site changes within the department that he could approve of. Mercifully, he yielded two possibilities; both larger cities. I then went back to my boss and shared the scoop.

She approved. Therefore, I am currently corresponding with former volunteers who served in the areas to see what possibilities exist. It's been a very uncomfortable and a somewhat embarrassing endeavor. Things have yet to really solidify. What about the projects? The people? My home-stay family? Yeah, I know; tragedies and tribulations. I'm stuck in a quandary of where to even begin thinking about thinking of the state of affairs.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to adjust to life in a big city as my health improves resolutely. I've begun to calibrate a new life at sea level. It seems I have forgotten exactly what freeways, food alternatives, and looking both ways before crossing were all about. However, I've never slept better than now, when encompassed in the urban silence.

In further notes of sanguineness, the entire group of health and environment volunteers from an anterior group are currently in Lima undergoing their medical checks. Not only has it been a great opportunity to get to spend some time with a fascinating group of people (Peace Corps Volunteers always have the most formidable table talk), but there are other volunteers who have been in situations comparable to mine. Their empathetic words and ears have been very remedial. Visits to the oceanside have also been a salutary tonic.

Time and again I've heard that no two Peace Corps experiences are alike. These words ring truer now than ever. Now, as I wander around the ritziest parts of the country, they manifest. More so, I've concluded that it is most certainly NOT “beginning to look a lot like Christmas” as the speakers of the equitable shops declare. Nonetheless, I wish you all the happiest of holidays! Stay well!

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.