White Christmas

Two feet of snow over Christmas. I love snow, but stepping outside makes me miss the balmy heat of Tumbes.


My Twelve Days of Christmas

On the 1st day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 2nd day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 3rd day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 4th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 5th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... five dozen Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 6th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 7th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... seven iPhone 3Gs, six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 8th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... eight vintage Ray-bans, seven iPhone 3Gs, six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 9th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... nine sexy vampires, eight vintage Ray-bans, seven iPhone 3Gs, six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 10th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... ten all-new sitcoms, nine sexy vampires, eight vintage Ray-bans, seven iPhone 3Gs, six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 11th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... eleven health bill revisions, ten all-new sitcoms, nine sexy vampires, eight vintage Ray-bans, seven iPhone 3Gs, six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

On the 12th day of Christmas, I was surprised to see ... twelve twamous tweeters, eleven health bill revisions, ten all-new sitcoms, nine sexy vampires, eight vintage Ray-bans, seven iPhone 3Gs, six mini laptops, five Tiger lovers, four pants-less popstars, three classroom smart boards, two Wii controllers and a plasma screen HDTV.

Home for Christmas.

The waiting was killing me. I worked all morning. Went to Tumbes. Kept busy with errands. Showered. Ate lunch. Visited with the health post ladies. Re-packed everything-twice.

And I still had 5 hours left until I left for the airport.

I sat on the back stoop and watched the turkeys. Clouds had rolled in, breaking the heat, and I squinted at the sun as it set behind the banana fields.

It had been a hot day. Like super hot. Can-feel-the-sun-touch-my-skin-hot. And I was enjoying the breeze.

I looked at my watch for the 80th time that day. It was 6:05 p.m. The car was picking me up at 7:30 to bring me to the airport. I knew I should eat, but the idea of food made me want to sew my mouth shut. I was too excited.

I was going home.

How I didn't give it away for 3 months, I have no idea. I'm a terrible liar. And I'm sure if my mom had been able to see me as I repeatedly fibbed about my Christmas plans, she would have called me out months ago.

"I don't know ... maybe I'll go to the beach." ... "I was thinking about maybe Lima." ... "No, mom. Peace Corps isn't allowing us to go home for the holidays." ... etc.

They were seriously pathetic. But I'm glad she believed them.

The car picked me up 20 minutes early. Despite spending the whole day preparing, I ran around one last time, making sure I had everything. My host mom hugged me twice. And my host dad hugged me for the first time ever. I promised I'd call.

They hugged me once more. I waved goodbye and hopped in.

The driver's name was Darwin. A friend of a friend from the next district over. We chatted, and I thought about how easy Spanish had become. A wave of panic hit as I questioned – yet again – if I had my passport.

The next 12 hours was a foggy blur. I flew from Tumbes to Lima. And then made my way from Lima to Miami. I slept maybe 20 minutes the entire flight. My legs were stiff. My stomach was in knots.

I daydreamed about what my parents would do. How I would greet my sister. Should I do the run and jump? Maybe a squeal? Perhaps a casual "Oh hey ... fancy meeting you here." Should I do a British accent maybe? ... you know, as a joke.

A friend of mine had told me once that when she came back after 9 months in Quito, Ecuador, she started crying when she saw the 8-lane highways out the plane window. As the plane got ready to land, I tried nonchalantly to lean my entire body over the guy next to me so I could see out the window. He gave me a weird look. I pulled back.

They told us that reverse culture shock is harder than original culture shock. And I wondered what would make me crack. The highway didn't do it for me – I live off the PanAmerican Highway. Too many choices in the grocery store? Probably not; they have big stores like that in Lima.

Even so, I lasted a whole 20 minutes in the US before I lost it.

It was in customs. The guy who stamps passports was stamping mine, and asked where I lived.

"Peru," I said.

"Ahh well, then," he said. "Welcome home."

He smiled, handed me my passport, and I had tears trickling down my cheeks before I made it the 30 meters to baggage claim.

40 minutes later, I passed a water fountain. A WATER FOUNTAIN. Free water. Perfectly clean and parasite free. I smiled. I wasn't thirsty. But it was FREE, CLEAN WATER. It tasted like I remembered.

5 minutes later, I was sipping a Starbucks House Brew while watching CNN. Jesse Ventura will have is own show? I audibly groaned. And what was going on with his ponytail. Seriously what happened to our country (our media??) in the 15 months since I left?

It was rainy, and I was nervous my flight would be delayed or – oh God, please no – canceled.

I needed to surprise my mom. I was going to give my camera to my sister's boyfriend, and he was going to film the whole thing. The car pulling up to the house. Stef and I stepping, lugging my camouflage hiking backpack and little black roller up the ice-covered sidewalk. We'd open the door – or wait, better, we'd knock. We'd knock, and my parents would answer the door together. The door would open, and a breath of fresh-cookie-smelling heat would kiss my face. My mom would register my sister's presence. Then turn to me and – gasp – could it be? Yes, it's she! And we'd hug, and cry. And she'd say how surprised she was while my dad gave me a quick side/shoulder-hug before hauling in my Peruvian dust-ridden luggage –

The flight was delayed. But not for long. And 3.5 hours after boarding the plane, I was impatiently tapping my foot behind the world's longest line on the way into the terminal of the Minneapolis airport.

When I finally broke free, I booked it. My bag hit my hip as I ran from the gate to baggage claim. It hurt. Carousel 4 Stef had told me. 4. 4. 4.

13 ... 12 ... 11 ...

8 ... 7 ... 6 ...

4! 4!

I saw her. I ran, arms stretched. We hugged. A symphony rose in the background. A deep crescendo. I started crying again. Huge tears this time. Soaking my sister's fleece.

We spun. People stared. Gawked. Swooned. What a lovely reunion! They thought. How cinematic!

During the 45 minutes driving back to my hometown, I braced myself for the shock, but it didn't come. I didn't even really mind the cold. When we pulled up to my parents' house, I started getting nervous. It suddenly dawned on me that I lied to my mom for months. I Lied. To my Mom. What an awful daughter I was! Maybe she'd be mad?

She wasn't. She screamed. Hugged me. More crying. My dad walked through the door, in his quiet astonishment, and said to no one in particular, "You're not supposed to be here."

Followed by more hugging and tears. Finally, I was home.

Just when I was getting comfortable ...

If my first year of service were a novel, it would start kind of slow. The beginning chapters would be focused on character development and setting, with long paragraphs outlining the curves of the distant hills, the sound of rain on tin roofs, and profiles of the people met along the way.

There would be small conflicts and resolutions creating crests and troughs in the story line. I would play up the embarrassing (but hilarious) condom-breaking-during-demonstration debacle, but still embellish the lazy Sundays spent in the hammock.

For every three steps forward for plot, one step back would be taken for context. There would be laughter and tears. And the climax — the vibrant culmination of a year's worth of integration, confidence building, language skills and lessons learned – would definitely be World AIDS Week.

The end of November/beginning of December has been a whirlwind of preparations, presentations, goodbyes and deep breaths. Five volunteers are leaving this tiny department, and seven more are arriving. With just two of us holding the anchor, it's made for a lot of change.

But the peak will be followed by a hard and fast crash. The rains are coming and school's letting out, giving way to the falling action of Christmas preparations and the abrupt denouement of New Years.

And when life picks up again, maybe a different story will begin. New resolutions will be made. Friendships formed and projects started. Will it be all that different? Could it possibly be the same? Instead of ticking off, I'll be counting down the days I have left in my Peace Corps adventure. And before I know it – they tell me – I'll be back home reminiscing about time spent here.

But for now, it might not be a bad idea to hold still and look back. Revisiting moments both key and mundane. Lamenting the loss of close friends. Smiling at the ones who've stuck around. Shaking my head at the person I'm becoming. Squinting to recognize the person I was.

While, you know, eating mangoes and swinging on the hammock ... prepping for Volume Two.

Thanksgiving 2009

"How are we going to cook this?" My friend Mike asked me as he raised up the 4 kg bag of frozen turkey breasts and legs.

We were heading to the beach to celebrate Thanksgiving with some friends, and the place where we were staying had an outdoor kitchen.

I shrugged. "We'll figure it out. It can't be that hard."

I'd seen a makeshift oven, made out of a pot atop bricks in a larger pot, sitting over a bonfire. It could work.

But there wasn't a huge pot. Just a couple small ones.

"How about we boil the legs and then fry the breast ... you know, like chicken? With some spices, it should be fine."

But there weren't any spices. Just salt and some garlic. So we chopped up some cloves and massaged in some salt.

That's what Peace Corps is about, right? Being resourceful?

Believe it or not, it turned out OK. We cut up some fruit and made some mashed potatoes. We even managed to make some gravy. Dinner was served just as the sun was setting over the water.

All in all, a very successful Thanksgiving.



World AIDS Week Recap

Great week! But I'm exhausted. Check it out.

Monday and Wednesday: HIV Jeopardy with teens during recess. Primary school students wanted to hang out with the giant condom, too.


Tuesday: World AIDS Day march. Over 600 kids, teens and teachers participated. I got very, very sunburned.



Friday: AIDS Week dance with teens in the community. Kind of lame. We couldn't turn off the lights without turning off the music, and the kids didn't want to dance with bright lights on. They also didn't want to participate in any of the activities. I thought a condom race was a fun idea!