A Totally New Year

In 2009, I will:
  1. Amanecer una fiesta. — In Spanish, amanecer literally means "to dawn." In Peru, it means to dance until morning. I plan on accomplishing this one New Year's Eve-Day, 5th Grade sleepover style: fueled by caffeine/sugar and peer pressure.
  2. Make homemade peanut butter. — I already have the recipe!
  3. Grow something. — I'm thinking lettuce.
  4. See Grupo 5 live. — Grupo 5 is probably the greatest cumbia band in all of Peru. Roughly 5/6 cumbia songs on the radio are by them.
  5. Go to Mancora. — Rumored to be the most beautiful beach in Peru and conveniently located two 1/2 hours from my site.
  6. Do something totally unforgettable for someone else. — I haven't quite figured this one out yet ...
  7. Re-read Harry Potter 1-7. — Purely selfish on my part.

These, of course, are all in addition to the vanilla new year's resolutions: self-improvements ... mind, body and soul.

¡Feliz Año Nuevo!

My first Navidad

It began with a soul-rattling shriek of a dying pig at 5 a.m. The screams (which can only be described as demonic) woke me with a start and provided just the motivation to get up and go running — if only to get away from the bone-chilling sounds of an animal taking 5 minutes to bleed to death.

After my run, my host mom offered me some fried piece of the poor little creature for breakfast. I passed and opted for simple tea and popcorn. I’m so happy other countries appreciate such delicious culinary marvels as much as we Americans. I am equally as giddy about the fact that as a gringa most of the things I do are considered odd, so when I actually do something a little quirky (like popcorn for breakfast), people just shrug their shoulders in a gesture of passive acceptance. It’s very liberating.

The rest of my Buena Noche (Christmas Eve) passed quite pleasantly despite the heat. There was a visit to Amara, another volunteer close by; followed by a delicious lunch of rice, chicken and lentils (lentils!! I never get alternative sources of protein); and a solid 3-hour block lost in Kristin Gore’s Sammy’s Hill.

Around 7 p.m., I felt it: the crippling weight of being away on Christmas. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to be home — though I did — it was more that Christmas is always a time when you are with the people you love and who love you. You eat, you play, you fight — that’s Christmas. But here I was, smack in the middle of South America surrounded by a crowd of people — not one of whom really knew me — and man, I felt lonely. Trying to call home was a fiasco, but I finally got through. And in between a fit of heaving sobs, I was able to (at least vocally) be with my family on Christmas Eve.

Thankfully for me, Buena Noche is anything but solemn and calm. It culminates in a wonderful swirling mass of fireworks, hot chocolate, cake and food, which didn’t allow me to be too sad for too long.

Dinner’s eaten at midnight, and everyone went to my host grandmother’s home for the meal. My five-year-old cousin, Sheik, poor thing, was sick, and wouldn’t even eat my cookies! But the rest of the fiesta was a riot of cumbia music, fireworks and joyfully squealing children in the streets. We stumbled into bed at 2:30 a.m., full and thoroughly exhausted.

Three other volunteers (the Saritas and Michelle) and I spent Christmas Day at the beach, reading paperbacks and bathing in the warm but powerful waves of the Equatorial Pacific. We sang carols to ourselves despite a curious/annoyed nearby audience. We ate fresh fish and reminisced about Holiday traditions back home. In short, it was awesome.

I say boldly and without shame of corniness that I felt incredibly grateful to be with my friends, celebrating life instead of sulking in our rooms, wishing we were back in the States.

I realized as I made my way home how important my family of other Peace Corps volunteers has become to me — especially right now. When everything is new and exciting and daunting all at the same time. When every day we have to make the decision of whether to stay in and hide or to step outside and engage. As supportive as our host families are, our short few weeks with them pales greatly in comparison to those we left behind to come here. And it’s cheering to know that we have this bridge to help us mend the gap.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. When you get a chance, please send me a note to tell me how it was. I’d love to hear!

Me with my family

Me with my friend, Sarah, at the beach on Christmas Day

Feliz Navidad

I made the mistake the other day of watching Bridget Jones’ Diary. Although normally a wonderful cinematic classic appropriate for any occasion, I got to that last scene and WHAM! — it hit me: Man, I miss snow.

Lately, I’ve been trying to pretend that Navidad is some Peruvian holiday completely devoid of any sentimental attachment. And it’s been pretty easy for the most part. Peru (especially Tumbes) is in its summer; every day is hotter than the day before. Instead of candy canes and Christmas cookies, there is panetón and hot chocolate. Cumbia is still on every radio station and none of the soap operas have even started that two-week long Christmas Day celebration.

Seeing that snow shattered any barrier I had between me and the inevitable First Christmas Away From Home. I figured I had two choices: crawl into my room and watch Harry Potter 1-5 on DVD, drowning myself in a whirlpool of mindless technology. Or celebrate Christmas.

The jury’s still out. But I’m pretty sure I’m going to celebrate Christmas. I’ve made Christmas cards and paper snowflakes. I took a stab at baking homemade cookies (btw chocolate chip is a BIG win with the Peruvians). I’ve even negotiated a split time-schedule with my family for Christmas Eve: For every two cumbia songs, I get one of my Christmas classics. I’m interested in seeing if my family appreciates Bing Crosby’s “Let it Snow” as much as I do …

And I’m going to think of every body back home the whole day. Because even though I’m not there, (yes, this is going to get corny) I’d like to think that if we think of each other at the same time, it’s like we’re celebrating Christmas together.

Oh, and I’m going to the beach. … So that should, umm, cool the sting a little.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Catching up

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I should be writing more often. The truth is that I’ve been wrapped up in a weird combination of work, sickness, emotional trials and integration. It’s a totally valid excuse; allow me to explain:

On the work front, I’ve been keeping pretty busy. I’m in and out of meetings a lot, trying to get things moving. I’ll be teaching a couple summer classes: A life skills class in the high school and Basic English class in the primary school.

I’m working with a local youth group in developing a peer educator program for the health post, which will last throughout all of 2009.

The health post is training in 11 new health promoters for the community and has asked me to help with the sessions. Once trained, the promoters will be able to go out into the community and assist families in really whatever basic health needs they come across (and most importantly how to prevent them): nutrition, hygiene, clean water, respiratory infections, HIV/AIDS – you name it.

And somewhere in the middle of this, I am doing a diagnostic of the community, where I have to go to 100 houses (yea … 100—I know, right?) to survey the current state of health in the community. I’m incredibly intimidated, but I have kind of a plan, so we’ll see how it goes.

As far as sickness, I’ve just accepted it as part of the Peace Corps experience. I clean my water and watch what I eat, but little changes the fact that this environment is totally new to my body. It’s really cute how my host family tries to help though. It’s never the water or the food, they tell me, it’s the shower I took after lunch, that I walk too much, or I ate a mango and an egg during the same meal. *shrug* What can you do?

The emotional trials have actually caught me by surprise. We unfortunately, had to say goodbye to two of our friends in Tumbes because of security reasons in their sites. As Tumbes is the smallest department in Peru, we were really grateful that they were moved somewhere safe but super bummed that they had to leave. It brought our numbers from 10 total in the area to eight and took a big chunk out of support system. With the whole shock of starting in our sites by ourselves and missing everyone and everything during the holidays, it gets a little rough. But everyone seems to be taking it in stride. My saving grace? The Office on DVD, Harry Potter, and Dame Chocolate (the best latin soap opera EVER).

Integration, however, I think has been the most fun. Integration is what makes all of the above worth it. December is a month of quinceñeras, weddings, graduations and Christmas parties. But it’s also about lazy afternoons with cold Pepsi and mangos, lying on a hammock, or slow walks to the river. Good long conversations or just sitting in silence, watching the evening go by. And the beach … oh, man the beach is amazing …

A group of kids and I made a deal in my first week: I teach them English, and they teach me how to dance. Since then, we’ve had a series of impromptu English/Dance classes at the health post. Brandon, 9, is my dance partner. He’s about a foot and half shorter than me and is absolutely adorable. Not to mention that kid can move.

Anyway, so that’s my life so far. I’m 3 weeks into my service, and I know this is only the start. It’s going to get harder. But with an embracing community, amazing volunteers and a warm beach nearby, I really can’t complain.

Now … here’s hoping I don’t get malaria.

A (super quick) Photo Tour of my site


My house.
My room! My mosquito net has turned out to be quite useful. Not so much for the mosquitos, but for the flies. For some reason, I come home in the afternoon to find a lot of dead flies on my net. How they die, I have no idea. But for their sake I hope it´s quick and painless.


My backyard, where we keep our chickens, turkeys, dogs, cat and monkey (Garu--he´s adorable).


My handwashing station. Small victory so far: My host brother uses it, too!


My SODIS water bottles. The sun kills the parasites and bacteria in the water. Unfortunately, there´s a belief here that leaving water out in the sun will get you sick ... But my host mom is slowly getting into it. All of our juices are made from the SODIS water.



What will I be doing?

Many of you are probably wondering: What will Robyn actually be doing? Well ... let me tell you.

Step one: Embrace the awkward turtle

My first month at site will be a riot of introductions, Christmas parties, meetings and overeating. A great time to work on my Spanish and acclimate into the community.

Step two: Snoop around

My next three months (January through March) will be spent doing a community diagnostic in Pampas de Hospital. I'll conduct house visits and interviews with community members, make maps, draw up lists of local resources, etc. — all in the hopes of identifying where the community's needs are.

Step three: Plan it up

Based on the info gathered during my diagnostic, I will show my findings to the community, and (ideally) together we'll draw up a work plan for the rest of my time here. For example, helping families build vegetable gardens, training youth health promoters in sexual health education, or starting a recycling program.

Step four: Get to work

... yeah.

BUT, as important as the diagnostic is, I'd go insane if I got up every day just to conduct surveys. So meanwhile, I'll also be working with the health center staff, giving life skills and health education sessions in the schools and teaching some English.

Super Secret Step 1-4a: PEPFAR initiative

During 2009, Peace Corps Peru will be working with local governments to implement an HIV/AIDS prevention project in the highest risk areas of the country (Tumbes, Piura and Lambayeque). In addition to the plan I create with my community, I will be working simultaneously with this initiative throughout the year. I'm super psyched. I don't know much yet though. More info to come.

Welcome to my site!

Bienvenidos a Pampas de Hospital!

So I live in a small town of about 3,000 people called Pampas de Hospital in the department of Tumbes, Peru. As far as Peace Corps sites, I hit the jack pot. I have electricity, water most days of the week, cell service, TV and even an internet cafe.


It´s about 23 km from the department capital, Tumbes, and less than an hour from the warmest beaches I´ve even felt.



It´s always summer here, going between 28-31 C. But between January and March it rains and rains and rains, and scary mosquitos come out in clouds.



Some of the biggest health problems Peace Corps volunteers are helping to tackle is HIV, malaria, dengue and (even though the food is delicious) chronic malnutrition.


Our main dishes include seafood (especially fish), chicken, rice, fruits (especially mango and lime), plantains and more rice. They also make these delicious fried plantain chips that taste like Frito Lays ... Mmm ...


So, in short, come visit!


Me in the main plaza. (check out the mosaic!)

The Potato Incident

Here in Lima, I was getting along great with my host family. I was adapting, learning the new culture, enjoying the food and mejorando-ing my Spanish. I thought I was doing pretty well.

That is, until, the potato incident.

We were cooking lunch at the training center, and we all needed to bring in a certain assigned item. Mine was 3 kilos of potatoes. Simple, right? Well, it got a little complicated. I'll explain.

Twenty soles a day go to our family to cover food, lodging and laundry. I had been sick since visiting my site, and I hadn't eaten dinner with my family all week. We also had two days where lunches were already provided by Peace Corps, and I rarely eat breakfast. My meal total was low, and I was hoping my family would pick up the 5 soles it would cost for the potatoes.

Money matters are always a little bit awkward. And being the conflict-phob I am, I gently approach the issue by talking about the lunch and how excited I am for it. I then continue with how I will need to bring 3 kilos of potatoes and would that be an issue to get? Oh no, not at all, my host mom assures me. You can buy them at the market.

Oh ... I say, a little surprised. Not quite sure how to approach the matter, I let it go until later in the week.

Like I said, I had been sick, plagued by an all-consuming grossness that culminated the day before the big lunch. I still hadn't gotten the guts to bring up the issue again, but I was down to the wire. I was hoping my host mom would have a little pity for the girl who was clutching her stomach, slumped over on the couch.

I can't go to the market today, I say. I'm really sick, but, shoot, I still need to buy the potatoes.

Don't worry, my host mom tells me. You can go tomorrow morning before you go to the training center.

No "how awful you're sick! Is there anything I can do?" No "don't worry about it, Robyncita. I'll go grab them for you." Nothing. Not a shred of sympathy or offer of assistance.

Naturally, I am miffed. I grab my favorite hoodie and hide myself in my room, curled up under my covers for the rest of the evening. The next morning, I get out of bed, dress quickly, and go to the kitchen where my host mom is prepping the family's breakfast.

Are you going to eat? She asks me.

No, I can't, I say. I don't have time. I have to go to the market.

Oh yes. The potatoes, she says. Ok, have a good day.

That's it.

I step outside the door, absolutely fuming. I go straight across the street to the host family of another Peace Corps volunteer and ring the doorbell. She invites me in, and I sit down at her breakfast table, trying hard not to burst out in a violent string of profanities.

I ask my friend if she wouldn't mind going with me to the market to get the potatoes before heading to the center, and her host mom, overhearing everything, interrupts me.

But Robyn, she tells me. You didn't tell your mom you needed the potatoes? She's supposed to buy them, you know. It's her responsibility.

I know, right?? Exactly! I want to scream, but gossip is a pretty big deal in Peruvian culture, and I don't want to fuel any negativity about my host family. The truth is, I'm sitting there in the kitchen, on the verge of tears.

Here, I was going to have to figure out how to get to the market and back before our training sessions started, when, really, it shouldn't be my responsibility at all. Not to mention that I had hardly eaten a scrap of food from my family that week, and then I had to front even more money when I shouldn't?? What's worse: She didn't even ask if I was feeling better!

It took me a Coca Cola, a single-serving package of Oreos and a whole lot of venting for me to realize how irrational I was being. Sure, my family should have offered to get the potatoes for me. And they probably should have offered a little human empathy for my being sick. That part of my reasoning is logical. But who am I to expect that they have the same culture of social courtesy and astuteness?

What I really should have done is just been upfront with my host mother. She would have bought the potatoes if I had just asked, and I probably would have avoided a really awkward couple of days and at least 300 calories.

But when you're new in a culture, it's difficult sometimes to find the balance between offending and being clear about what you need. I was expecting my host mother to meet me halfway by offering. When she didn't, I was irrationally offended.

This all transfers back to my life in the States. My Minnesotan raising has made me a little too passive-aggressive. But this lack of communication can get even more slippery with another culture and another language. Yes, I need to be sensitive and not come on too demanding or too strong. But at the same time, I need to be able to express myself clearly, without the expectation that those around me will pick up on my subtleties — which might be even less pronounced here than I think.

For a while, I will be a little awkward and uncomfortable. But if I continue down this conflict-phobic path, I mind just end up in totally avoidable, frustrated tears, drowning in a sea of Coca Cola bottles and Oreo wrappers. And for what? A sack of potatoes?

My First Lesson in Humility

When I first decided on the Peace Corps, I knew I was going to have my eyes opened. The US is a privileged nation. I had no doubts whatsoever that I would be humbled by my experience.


My humbling came about two weeks ago during my field-based training. We were divided in groups of four and sent to the far corners of Peru (hyperbole added) to work with current volunteers in their sites.


Our first stop was Potrerillo with Lizzi — an incredible volunteer who's already been in her site for two years and heads home this month (We'll miss you, Lizzi!). In the mornings, people come out with their buckets and burros to a small canal running through the town to carry water back to their homes. In the afternoons, they bathe and wash their clothes in the same canal. It is the lifeblood of the village. Despite being in a fairly arid region, there were fields of rice, stacked in Andean steps up the hillside.


Lizzi's main project was working with Plan International to build approximately 150 latrines in the area. It was absolutely incredible to see the work the town had accomplished.


After a few days in Bajo Piura, we went up (literally) to Sicchez, a small village in the sierra of Peru. Surrounded by chacras, the main industry is agriculture, and many of the families worked out in the fields all day with coffee and bananas. There are two telephones for the entire community, and a loud speaker announces five minute warnings for those who have calls coming in. The roads are pure mud during the rainy season. The insects are brutal. And teen pregnancy is prevalent.

I was placed with an adorable couple who gave me the last bit of red meat they had. The floors were dirt and the walls of adobe. A hole in the ground served as the toilet; a small faucet in the middle of the yard was the shower; and I slept in an empty room with a hard-as-rock bed and at least 50 spiders.


Silly side note about the spiders: The first night, I could barely sleep because I thought they were going to bite me. I slept with my hood up, long pants and high socks. The second night, I decided to just kill them all before I went to bed so that I wouldn't have to sleep in fear. I walked up to the first, huge, juicy one (literally two inches in size, with a big, fat body), and held up my shoe to crush it. But I couldn't do it. What if I don't kill all of them and the rest of them (surely hiding beneath my bedpost) revolt against in me in the night? I thought. So I made a truce with them. I'll spare your lives, spiders, I said. But that means you must spare mine.


I went to bed that night with my pants tucked in my socks. My undershirt tucked into my pants. And my hood closed so tight around my head only my nose peeked through. ... I still was bitten on the cheek.


Anyway the humbling experience was centered around my interactions. The people were incredibly friendly and generous — embracing us as friends and feeding us way too much of what little they had. We ate bananas picked straight from the tree and fresh coffee beans from the recent harvest. We spent hours after dinner talking about the United States and Peru. My host father was floored that we have over 300,000,000 people in our country and truly couldn't believe that "fast food" existed in such a prominent way in our culture.


I'd like to think that I would be able to survive — maybe even be successful — in a town like Sicchez. The truth is: I was miserable. I got sick from the food, the water supply was littered with insects and fecal matter (and had to be sifted even after boiling), I couldn't shower for days and slept in absolute fear of the creatures that lived in every crevice.


I left Sicchez incredibly proud of the volunteers there (Brian and Angela) and impressed by the unbelievable warmth and generosity of the people. But also with a very startling realization of what I might actually be able to handle.

A Cultural Exchange

My host family named their new, black kitten "Obama."

The Election Day

My poor host family woke up this morning to find their gringa in a fit of tears in front of the television.

“Why are you crying??” They asked me. “I thought you wanted Obama to win!”

"I did; I did." I said. It was difficult to explain that the tears were definitely tears of joy.

One of the three goals of Peace Corps is to share information about our culture and nation with people in other countries. It’s an act of diplomacy that as a volunteer you can’t help but pick up.
But sometimes living abroad is more like damage control than a cultural exchange. I’ve talked to Peruvians about our politics, our president and our people. But always with a guarded edge, an offensive strategy, careful to counter the many criticisms sometimes even before they’re addressed.

I love my country. But we as a nation agree that we don’t love what we’ve become.
We’re fighting a painful war with no visible end, and losing the respect and standing with our international allies every day. Our economy flops while deeply rooted social problems (education, health care, ... ) are left untouched. But more so, we as a nation are plagued by a willful ignorance and indifference that allows an immoral and self-serving Washington to thrive, while nothing changes.

It takes more than moving rhetoric and Oprah’s backing to clean the mess we’re in right now. But in his campaign alone, Obama lit a fire beneath my apathetic generation and inspired them to do something for their country. He has evoked a national pride — a sprouting seed of patriotism — that we’ve never felt before in our lifetime. We’re talking about, caring about energy independence and international policy.

Whatever your thoughts on his political policies or background, you have to give him credit for moving an entire generation of youth to become patriots.

The reason I broke down was because I felt – like many people – it was the first step in the right direction. And for the first time since I’ve come to Peru, I can talk about the future of America with hope and incredible pride in my country and leader.

Obama´s not perfect. He won´t waltz into the White House like a giant band-aid and heal us. That will ultimately be up to us. But he´s a start.

The Ruins (Pachacamac — a history lesson)

So my guidebook said that Pachacamac (some 30 minutes outside of Lima), is a lesser known (but well-worth seeing) archeological site in the same league as Machu Picchu and Chán Chán. We drove right by the entrance on our way back from Casa Blanca, so a group of us decided to stop and see.

If I had been blindfolded and flown to the site, I would have guessed I was in Egypt. Despite being in view of the coastline, the ruins sit in a sea of sand. The only vegetation is in the yards of the rich folk who live nearby.

Really, all that's left is a pile of bricks, but it has a really rich history, starting back to the 1st and 2nd century.

It was a pilgrimage site for the Huari people, where they worshipped Pachacamac, their creator of the world. In the 15th century, the city was captured by the Incas, who (of course) added other buildings, including the Accllahuasi, the Palace of the Chosen Women — where they prepared the most intelligent, beautiful and accomplished virgins from the highest class to be sacrificed. They brought them up the hill to the Temple of the Sun, where they killed them on a patio overlooking the sunset on the Pacific Ocean. It's a tragic story, but the view really is incredible. I could see why they would want to worship it.

The site was excavated and over 200 mummies were found — mummies which are now in some museum in Germany. According to our guide, it's not that uncommon: Archeologists from foreign countries come to Peru, promising to leave the found riches with the Peruvian people, but in the end, they don't. She said the problem is largely monetary. As Peru doesn't have the money to excavate the site, they have to rely on outsiders.

It was a beautiful site, and totally wet my appetite for more pre-Columbian ruins!


If you want more information, you can find it at:


http://pachacamac.perucultural.org.pe/ (for my bilingual friends)


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pachacamac






The Self-sustaining Farm (Casa Blanca)

This past weekend, we went to a self-sustaining farm that was wicked awesome cool, and I have to tell you about it.

The farm is owned by two retired PhDs who are so ridiculously in love, it radiates around the whole place. They both have a passion for agriculture and decided to buy the farm 25 years ago to live the rest of their days in complete and utter bliss. (author´s note: embellishment added)

How they created a self-sustaining life (meaning they haven´t bought a cannister of gas in 15 years) is really quite incredible. There is no above-ground water source nearby to water the zillion varieties of crops, so they tapped a sub-terrainian source and pump the water up into a lifted pool that serves as a reserve. When the crops need watering, the reserve is uncorked, and gravity sends the water to canals alongside the crops. There are unconnected curved plastic tubes that are sticking out of the canals. As they are, no water comes out of them because there´s an air pocket in the arch. But when they are ready to water the individual rows, they submerge the tube in the canal water, pushing out the air bubble, and then bring the tube out of the water again, causing a sucking-like action, bringing the water through the tube and down the row of crops.
The farm also operates on gas-powered electricity which is made on the grounds from a bio-digestion tank fueled by -- wait for it -- guinea pig waste. They have a huge barn full of guinea pigs (cuyes) that they use for not only food but also waste to make the gas, biol and compost. The entire farm operates on the gas created, including their stove and lights. The biol and compost are then used to fertilize the plants that they eat every day.
Seriously... not a bad way to spend your retirement: hopelessly in love and surrounded by furry creatures and yummy organic veggies.

The Birthday: Part Two (The Love!)

For a funny talking gringa, I have to tell you my first birthday here was bien chévere (that's Peruvian slang for "freakin' amazing"). After the charla in the morning, we came back to the health center to a mini-party in one of the classrooms — complete with a cake, sweet potato and banana chips, Inca Kola, Pepsi and gifts. It was a total surprise, and it threw me a little. Forgive the non-creative wordage here, but I felt so loved!. Which is strange, if you think about it. I've been here a month. Six weeks ago, none of these people were in my life, and now they are a cherished part of my experience here.

What's even more is that our tech trainers, Javier and Jorge, were the instigators and planners of the whole affair. Our teachers. I'm one of 47, and they took the time (in the middle of the day) to celebrate my birthday with me. I was, like, wow ...

When we got back to the training center, there was more singing, and another volunteer even brought me flowers (Thank you, D!). In my language class, my instructor handed me a gift-wrapped box of —wait for it — KRAFT Mac and Cheese. The GOOD stuff!

There's more if you can believe it.

That night, I came home to be with my host family. Some of the volunteers came over to watch the presidential debate, and my host mom and sister pulled out one of the most beautiful cakes I've ever seen (FRUIT was on top of it. FRUIT). My stomach was screaming, No! Not more cake! But my eyes were shouting, FRUIT on CHOCOLATE CAKE. Dude, that's awesome! Before lighting the candle, my host father stopped everything and told me how glad he was I am with them and how it feels like I'm another daughter in the family. [cue: "aww!"] I blew out my candle, made my wish. And had a little moment.

It was awesome.

I won't lie to you. I had a brief period (before the cake, after the Mac & Cheese), where I had to duck into my room and allow the reality of not being with my family and friends hit me like a freight train. It hurt. My whole body ached to be with them. But later, when I shook off the tears and was standing among the crowd in my very Peruvian living room, something clicked.

I don't know why it took so long to sink in — the whole day, really, had been leading up to it — but it was at that point that it hit me: This is my life now.

These people, crowded around me eating possibly the most delicious cake ever, are my friends, my local support system, my Peruvian family. They're it. From here on out. And no matter how many more birthdays I have, this one — non-monunmental #23 — will be one that I'm always going to remember. And as much as I miss everyone back home already, I am lucky (and so excited) to have these people in my life.


The Birthday: Part 1 (The Charla)

My first birthday away from home started with a halt. I overslept and woke up to the sound of a fellow volunteer knocking on my front door — 5 minutes after I was supposed to meet her.

I jumped up, let her in, apologized profusely, threw on some clothes and walked briskly with her to the bus stop to meet the rest of our health training group. I was excited. Not because it was my birthday. But because it was our first charla in a primary school.

Our topic: handwashing. Not exactly a show-stopping topic, but we'd worked out what we thought was a pretty good 30-minute lesson plan, and I was a little nervous our 5th and 6th grade classes would be bored. [Spoiler alert: They weren't. It was awesome.]

We started off with a giant drawing of a hand and held it up for the class to see. Does this hand look clean or dirty? We asked the students. Clean! They shouted back. And from a distance, it looked like it totally was. But when two volunteers came up to take a closer look, they discovered that, in fact, there were tiny yellow dots drawn inside the hand. They're are germs! they called back to their fellow students.

What are these germs? We asked them. What do they do? Where do we find them?

Then we had them go around the room and touch everything they could see. The floor, the walls, the desks, their chairs — everything — until their hands were good and dirty. After, we put a drop of oil on their hands, and they put their hand print on a white sheet of paper. With the help of the oil, the dirt transferred from their hands to the paper. And alongside each handprint, we wrote the student's name.

When we brought them all outside to wash their hands, we went over again how important it was to rub every inch of your hands, fingers, nails and wrists — and to use lots of water and soap. To make sure they spent enough time getting to all those tough-to-remember places, we asked them to sing Happy Birthday to me in both English and Spanish. I have to stop and tell you: it was adorable.

Some of the students were really excited that we were from the US. Speak to me in English, they kept asking me. Sing me a song in English. They crowded all around me asking their questions. How do you say 'I love you'? What does 'this is my supper' mean?

When we got back to the room, we sat in a circle and played hot potato with a ball of wadded up sheets of paper. On each sheet was a question, and when we stopped singing (you guessed it) Happy Birthday, the student with the papa caliente had to answer the question.

Of course, they knew all the answers. They've had hand-washing educational sessions before. But even still, it's not a strictly practiced part of the culture. Even if the students were diligent enough to remember to wash their hands after playing with stray animals (which freely roamed around the school grounds), there wasn't soap in the bathrooms for them to use. And that was a little disheartening. The teachers, however, were incredibly supportive and seemed equally as excited to have us in their classrooms. They were even kind enough to let us leave the handprinted sheets of paper hanging up in the classroom.

As far as a first charla went, I was really excited when I left. The students were sad to see us leave and wrote us little notes thanking us for coming. It was just washing hands. Something they'd heard dozens of times before. But to be honest, it was the first time I'd been thankful to be so unavoidably gringa. Because you know that some of them probably went home and told their parents about these three American girls with funny accents who came to their classroom and talked about washing their hands ...

The Things I Miss (and don´t miss) Month 1

I know it´s a little early, but as it´s been a month (which is really 3 months in Peace Corps Training-time), I thought I´d share what I miss so far. Some are pretty predictable. Others might surprise you.

Keep in mind: family, friends and beloved pets are a given.

Things I miss (1 month down, 26 to go):

  • HOT SHOWERS
  • Sandwiches
  • Wifi
  • Seedless Fruit
  • Carpeting in homes
  • All forms of affection (hugs, kisses, handholding, etc.)
  • Diet Dr. Pepper
  • Target
  • Bookstores
  • Cheese
  • Toasters
  • Drinking fountains
  • Frozen pizza
  • Random text messaging throughout the day
  • The Daily Show
  • Crossword Puzzles
  • Sunday comics
  • Relatively clean public restrooms
  • Wearing flip-flops

Things I don´t:

  • Campaign ads
  • Lame American media
  • Hummers
  • The desire to own a Wii
  • Tipping
  • Having to drive everywhere
  • Being constantly connected to the internet
  • Hectic daily routines
  • Wal-mart

The Horse Race (San Pedro de Casta)

On our first day off, some friends of mine and I decided to go to a small mountain village called San Pedro. We heard that from there we could hike 3 km to some ruins, but, unfortunately, after a 3-hour combi ride, we got to the village only to realize that there was a horse race going on, and if we hiked up to the ruins, we would be trampled. So ... we stayed put. It turned out to be not that great of a sacrifice. The town was beautiful, and at 10,000 feet above sea level, it was literally breathtaking. The road there, however, was a little frightening. Most of the journey consisted of a forever winding road surrounded by a high rock wall or a deep cliff.

The city itself is pretty closed off. They don´t have a lot of water and use public latrines that were terribly dirty. There was no obvious formal garbage collection site, and so a lot of people just threw trash down the side of the hill, stretching into the valley. The garbage falls into the farmers small patches of farm land and is also eaten by all the grazing animals, including chickens. I couldn´t help but notice the lack of sanitation, as well, ranging from the street vendors to the small children walking past the running water without a second look after using the latrine. It´s crazy what training is doing to me. All I could do was formulate various ways to combat these health pitfalls, instead of enjoying the beautiful view. The town is, however, a recipient of a program going on right now called Agua para Todos (Water for Everyone), which is trying to get water infrastructure to Peru´s rural population. So positive progression might not be so far away in their future.

I´d really like to go back. If nothing else, it was a tranquil break from the constant motion of training in Lima.






The Crazy Bull (El Toro Loco)

There have been few times thus far in Peru where I have feared for my physical well being, but I have to tell you last weekend was one of those times.

It was a pretty mellow Saturday to start, training at the university and then a relaxing trip to Plaza Vea to buy Mac & Cheese to make for my family (which they loved, by the way). After coming back from Lima, some friends of mine decided to head to a neighborhood anniversary party in a little barrio called 3 de Octubre where some other volunteers are staying.
The party was beautiful. Dancers came out in ornate costumes and bands played, while everyone stood around, drank, laughed, watched. I couldn´t remember the last time I had had that much fun. That is, until, the toro loco.

It was a giant cardboard bull that rested on the shoulders of a local. When everyone was gathered, they lit the fuses of the fireworks (that´s right ... fireworks) and the toro loco ran around and through the crowd as sparks rained down on random passers-by. Twice, a giant flaming ball of something shot like a dart into the crowd. The smoke made it hard to see. People were screaming.

It was chaos.

There were some brave few who stayed inside the gated soccer field. But others (me) fled to the street for safety and watched from afar.

When things calmed down, everyone ate and laughed and danced. The fun resumed. And soon, I was out of breath with aching cheeks from smiling too much.

I wish I had photos to share with you. I´ll try and gather some from one of the dozens of other volunteers there.

I mean, a giant, fireworks-spouting, cardboard bull. How cool is that?

The Sick Day

So ... it happened. I got sick. I knew it was inevitable, and by George it was.

It all started Saturday with some seemingly innocent pizza at a mall in Lima. I felt fine --or at least I THOUGHT I felt fine. Until suddenly--BAM. A night full of horrible groaning, disgusting scenes of which I will spare you, and prayers for God either to kill me or heal me.

I spent all day Monday in bed -- mostly in tears -- holding my stomach and trying to sleep. Suni, our rock star Peace Corps doctor, diagnosed me with a bacterial infection and prescribed me some anitbiotics and Dramamine. And ta-da! Two days later I can eat again! ¡Qué milagro!

I share this because it´s a tiny little victory for me. A small mark of honor etched into my memory, proving to myself I was here. I came stomach to face with my first bacterial microbe and won! I´m really in the Peace Corps! Granted, it wasn´t an ameoba or anything, but I still have two years left. *crosses fingers* Here´s hoping!

... kidding.

The People / La gente

Meet my family! Oscar, Loida, Deysi, Soledad and Jon Paol.

  • Oscar is a mecanico in Lima. The hours are long — he works Monday through Saturday from 5:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. and picks up odd jobs on Sundays — but he's energetic and loves a good conversation. He's also, apparently, a fantastic dancer and has promised me that he'll teach me how to Cumbia and Salsa for my birthday.
  • Loida is an ama de casa (house wife) full-time, but she also is an entrepreneur, selling household items and clothes from catalogs on the side. She's very active in the community and serves as the secretary on the neighborhood Junta (more a less the board of directors). But best of all, she is super sweet and doesn't over-feed me!
  • Deysi is a nurse who just finished a year-long practical work program in the Selva (jungle). She arrived in Lima the same day I did and has just been settling back in with her family and friends. While in the Selva, she met and fell completely in love with Manuel, an engineering student in Iquitos. I don't know what I would have done without her my first few days here. She always is happy to come along with me if I need to find something I didn't bring (like a towel--eek) or talk to me about my technical training for PC's health program or just life in general.
  • Soledad is 16 and finishing up her last year in high school. She'll graduate right after I leave in December and wants to go to the University of Lima next year. It's a really important dream to her. She's very studious and focused. But, at the same time, she's 16 and loves music and dancing and regatón. She also fills me in on what's going on during the dramatic, fast-talking points of the Dáme Chocolate, the greatest Latin American soap opera ever.
  • Jon Paol (aka JP) is 9 and ADORABLE. He and I get along really well and is probably the best Peruvian friend I've made so far. Every night we read a few pages of Harry Potter y La Cámara Secreta out loud. It's good pronunciation practice for me, and he seems to get a lot of pleasure out of correcting me. :) With the exception that he lives in Peru, he is nearly exactly like every 9-year-old in America: he loves Cartoon Network, Spiderman, Power Rangers and running around like a madman. On my second day in the house, he fell and hurt himself pretty severely. He was in the hospital for a few days and now can't run around. He's going a little stir-crazy. I feel terrible for him, but he's handling it really well.






The Places / Los sitios

Here are some photos of Huascaran, my neighborhood in Chaclacayo. It's one of the lower class parts of the city, but everyone is really friendly and open. I infinitely prefer it to the crowded streets of Lima.











Here are some photos of my training site, which is technically a mansion for Chaclacayo.



The (small) Things / Las cositas

There are some differences between Peru and the US that I think are kind of cool.

  • The dish soap.

  • The door locks.

  • The potato chips (sweet potato chips are AMAZING).

  • The bucket bath. We boil water on the stove and mix it with the cold water from the tap. The result: a lukewarm bucket bath.

  • Giant fried corn kernels, with the popcorn fluff in the middle, essentially inside-out popcorn.
















Hola desde el Perú

Hey everyone! So... I´m in Peru, which is awesome. In case anyone was curious, I thought I´d let y´all know what I´ve been up to.

I just settled in with my host family in Chaclacayo, a small city outside of Lima. I live in an area called Huascaran (WA-ska-RON) with a father, mother, 2 sisters (23 and 16) and a brother (9--so cute!). So far, it has been pretty interesting, and they´ve had a lot of laughs at my expense. My Spanish has a long way to go, but thankfully, I understand almost everything. It´s just when I have to talk back that I run into problems ... (Teaser: "Sure! I´m open!" does NOT translate well.)

The Peace Corps training center is literally a mansion for this area. It´s huge, with a high wall all the way around the grounds. There´s even a pool (that we can´t use). Many of the houses near the center are equally as beautiful and just as guarded. The neighborhood I live in is a stark contrast to where we train. None of the roads are paved, and there is dust and rocks everywhere since we´re in the desert. It´s on the poorer side of town, but inside the houses, they have a lot of the same comforts. I have 27 TV channels (!) and running water. To avoid taking freezing showers, though, mi mamá boils some hot water for me to mix with some cold water, and it´s more of a bucket shower, if you will. After the cold and hot are mixed together, I can scoop the water out and pour it over my head. It was awkward at first, but I think I´m getting the hang of it.

One crazy thing about here are the buses called combis. There is a larger town down the road from here where you can buy more nonessential things like towels and purses, and to get there you have to take the combis. They slow down (rarely do they stop) to pick people up along the side of the road, and everyone crams in. It´s like the bumpiest, jerkiest roller coaster you´ve ever been on, except you´re standing and only have a bar above your head to hold on to when the bus slows down quite suddenly or jerks forward.

For all my foodie friends out there (Tobye), come visit!!! Seriously, the food is absolutely amazing. I´m bewildered at the magical combinations that can be made from rice, potatoes and chicken. Not to mention the fruit. They have at least 12 different kinds of bananas and I think as many mangos. It´s heavenly. I´ve never tasted fruit with so much flavor. I know getting sick is an inevitability, but in the meantime, I´m really, really enjoying myself.

As for my fellow volunteers, I couldn´t have asked for better. There are 47 of us, and everyone is awesome. Most have studied abroad or traveled, and it´s fun to hear everyone´s stories. We´re divided into 3 projects: Health, Environment and Water Sanitation. Most of the health and environment volunteers will be taking over for other volunteers who have started in communities. Water and san folks, however, will be piloting their programs in Perú. Our paths cross a lot, though, since a lot of enviro and health stuff overlap.

I promise, I will have pictures up soon. There are some internet cafes near the center, but training is intense, and there isn´t a lot of time to get to one.

I love you all!! And believe me when I say I miss you terribly. ¡Pienso mucho en ustedes!

Arrival

I made it!

...more later. :-)

The Prologue

In six days, I'll be heading off to Peru for new adventures with the Peace Corps. I'm excited, anxious, preemptively missing people, hopeful, curious, and a tad ... listless? I'm packing my life into two lumpy bags, buying duct tape and batteries, and downloading e-books like they were Death Cab for Cutie. I spent nearly $200 at Target, and am now a one-woman pharmacy of multi-vitamins, Airborne chewables and hand sanitizer.

I guess you could say, right now, my life is broken down into a series of post-its that look a little something like this ...

Things to do before I go:
  • renew my driver's license
  • buy personal property insurance
  • establish a power of attorney
  • defer my student loans
  • take pictures of family, friends and home-sweet-home
  • go to a Twins game
Things to pack:
  • duct tape
  • hiking boots, running shoes, ballet flats, high heels and flip flops
  • nifty pocket knife (with the nifty fold-out nail clippers)
  • photo album
  • 27 months worth of *cough* female items
  • address book
  • all five Harry Potter movies
Things I want to see when I'm in South America:
  • Machu Picchu
  • Angel Falls
  • an Andean village
  • Buenas Aires
  • the Amazon River
  • an animal I've never seen
Things to eat as often as possible before I go:
  • hamburgers
  • Vietnamese food
  • mac 'n' cheese
  • French fries
  • club sandwiches (extra bacon)
My brain is going a million directions, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready for this. But I will take solace in one thing: whatever happens, it will be an adventure.

Have you left yet?

Yes! I just arrived in Lima for training and should be starting my two-year program Nov. 28.

Why did you join the Peace Corps?

Good question. Probably one I'll ask several times during the length of my service. But the truth is: once I got the idea of the Peace Corps in my head, I woke up every day with a different reason to join. Here's what I came up with:

Reasons to join the Peace Corps:
  • The trite reason: I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself
  • The young, idealistic reason: I want to be defined by my humanity, not by my nationality
  • The simple reason: I'm young and childless and looking for an adventure
  • The pragmatic reason: I'm applying to law school and can't stand the thought of studying books for another three years straight.
  • The "I'm curious" reason: There are cultures I've never even heard of and can't wait to learn about.
  • The easy deduction reason: Every returned volunteer I've ever met came back with nothing but amazing stories and zero regrets.
  • The "civic responsibility" reason: I grew up with everything I ever needed to make it in the world, and others didn't.
  • The overly simple-yet-true reason: I could.
So, with my list, I made the decision to apply. There were times I doubted — even actively sought out other options — but I knew that I didn't want to be the girl who almost did Peace Corps. I wanted to be the girl who did.

And here I am.

Can I contact you?

Yes!!! Yes, yes. Yesyesyes! You can reach me at robyn.correll@gmail.com.

Or you if you'd like to send letters, books, postcards (to show my host family) or anything else United States-ian, my address is:

Robyn Correll/Cuerpo de Paz
Casilla No. 5
Serpost Tumbes
Tumbes, Peru
South America

Note: If you send me a package (thank you!), it´s easiest and cheapest to send it via US Postal Service.