First Project Success!

Indeed, I wasted very little time in getting to work. Yes, first I am supposed to perform a formal diagnostic of my new site (which I'll get to); but I have to make up for lost time, right? I see it this way: They knew I was coming, my language skills are sufficient to be effective, and I had to chase the opportunities knocking at my door. Honestly, I've been very lucky to encounter so many motivated people so quickly; I didn't want to miss an open window while pursuing procedural paperwork.

The municipality wanted to start a campaign to empower local youth while they are on their summer vacation from school. Originally, they wanted me to be the supervisor of the program. However, that is far from sustainability. They have since hired a man with whom I have been working to organize a gang of do-gooders.

We have 120 enthusiastic local adolescents teamed up on a citywide recycling campaign. It's been absolutely phenomenal! We gave them a week-long seminar on the project plan, recycling basics, and even threw in a couple guest speakers. From there, we planned a parade around the entire town carrying banners and stopping in each barrio where the group members performed skits (which they wrote themselves). We even had a band marching with us helping pull the community members out of their houses. To top it off, we talked the municipality into buying us all matching shirts. It was absolutely sensational, and a great "kickoff" day for the cleanup campaign. And, of course, everyone decided it best to have the huge gringo guy front and center leading the way...I suppose that also works as an attention getter.

Currently, the members of the group have been split into subgroups and are going door-to-door and teaching the community how to sepperate their refuse (organic, inorganic non-recyclable, and recyclable. The project itself has proven to be successful as the local recycling plant reports increases in volume. It's great to know that these folks are having a positive impact regarding environmental progress and community mindset. However, I'm especially proud of the way the youth have dedicated their time and efforts for the sake of community improvement. Some of these kids have demonstrated remarkable leadership skills and have really kept me motivated throughout the process. More so, this project has been an excellent opportunity for me to put my foot in the proverbial door and hit the ground running in my new site.

On other notes, life has been great. My new site continues to provide me with a profusion of positive experiences. In addition, the celebrations of Carnival have wrapped up and I managed to make it through relatively dry for the most part. However, there was one day when I would have been better off walking around in full rain gear.

About a week ago I was running some errands in the department capital, which looked more like a water world war zone. After lunch, as I was getting ready to head back to site for a meeting with the mayor, I was bombarded by a gang of bucket carrying hooligans. This was after a morning of successfully avoiding water balloons and balcony offenses. I ostentatiously thought I would actually be returning to site in time for the meeting in dry wardrobe. However, if recollection serves correctly, I was doused with three buckets of water in succession as I retreated to a local café to seek refuge. From there, I avoided one more bucket as I frantically rolled up the taxi window.

Soaking wet, I jumped in a combi (mini-bus) to take me back to site. I caught the last available spot and was seated in the back row center. I thought the worst was over as the rusted roof and walls of the vehicle shielded us from roadside attacks. Nevertheless, as we made a stop along the way, the back door of the combi had been pulled open and an assailant unexpectedly (and very successfully) launched about five gallons into the rear section of the combi as the driver peeled away. At this point, I looked like I had taken a shower with all of my clothes on.

When I arrived at my site, I witnessed similar chaos. The majority of the moto taxis (motorized rickshaw-type things) had fellows riding sidecar with full buckets as well. To avoid the pandemonium, I walked about six blocks out of the way to my living quarters. There, I changed and headed back down to the municipality for my meeting with the mayor. Of course, the municipality is located right on the Plaza de Armas whose central location and water fountains made it a red zone for the battles. Suddenly, my ambitious adolescent do-gooders turned on me. As I sprinted to the building, I could hear the pubescent voices announcing my presence. I picked up the pace and made it just in time for the meeting looking surprisingly presentable.

However, to my dismay, the mayor wasn't even there and the meeting had been postponed to the following day. After all, this is Perú, and things sometimes workout that way. Therefore, I waited on the balcony watching the bedlam in safety. Once the dust settled, I moseyed on home reflecting on how an ordinary morning can bring unexpected afternoon episodes. Just another day at the office, I suppose.

¨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!

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?