It's a jungle out there.

So maybe it's not technically jungle, more like dry forest. But still. There are some animals in my life that I feel need mentioning.

There's a toad that lives in my bathroom. He seems to get pleasure from jumping out of dark places and scaring the gajeebas out of me at night. One time, I walked into the bathroom for only a minute — no more — and I came out to find him staring at me from the step. Staring. Like a tiny, evil, warty demon-statue.

We also have two roosters who like hopping up things. Early in the morning (while the tin is still cool), they jump up the rungs on the fence and onto the roof. Pitter-pat go their little feet as they wobble around just before they jump off with flapping wings. Combined with the crowing, they make the most irritating/humorous alarm ... at 5 a.m.

I've gotten used to the site of pigs roaming everywhere, but lately there are three piglets who sneak through the cracks of our fence, into our backyard and run around, snorting up a storm. Granted, they're cute. As cute as pigs can be anyway. But they seem to be absolutely terrified of me — despite my constant assurances that I don't eat pork here for fear of cistercercosis*. (Seriously, if you saw what they were eating, you'd be paranoid, too.)

I can't continue without mentioning our pet monkey, Garu. He's a 3-month-old baby who likes to chew on my fingers (don't worry; he doesn't really have teeth yet). He also gets these moments of adorable shyness, where he wraps himself in an old t-shirt and hides his cute little monkey-face, then screams bloody murder when you walk away. Oh, Garu ...

Also, the dogs have organized. They now run in gangs around our neighborhood. Though mostly harmless, they're trying to chase all the mototaxis (three-wheeled motorcycles+taxi seat = mototaxi) out of town by barking threats at them. I fear they're fighting an uphill battle.

I could mention the donkeys, turkeys, cows, horses and vultures ... but I think you get the idea. It's like they're purposely interesting because they know I'm watching them.

The reason I´m totally OK with eating so much chicken.

Our monkey, Garu.

An Año Nuevo

I know I make it sound like living here is puppy dogs and sunshine — which most of the time is surprisingly accurate — but there are times when the cultural differences are difficult to swallow.

New Year's Eve-Day was one of those times.

Año Nuevo is a major holiday for Peruvians, and as such is accompanied by a lot of colorful traditions. For example, everyone wears yellow for luck, eats 12 grapes while making 12 wishes, and burns man-sized stuffed dolls called muñecos at midnight as a way of starting the new year fresh. Some people even run along the streets with a suitcase in hopes of a big trip the following year. But like any Peruvian holiday, the night rounds out with a long night of drinking and dancing.

For those of you who don't know me, I don't drink. And my diligent sobriety is something not well understood here — a lack of understanding made only worse by increased amounts of alcohol. Add on impossibly loud music and the ubiquitous Blonde Foreigner Syndrome* (constant stares and/or requests to dance), I'm in for a rough night.

But wanting to experience a Peruvian New Year (as well as knocking off Numero Uno on my list of resolutions), I stuck it out until 5 a.m.

The night went a little something like this:

Knowing full well that alcohol in any culture gets people a little "handsy," I made it a rule to have my feet hurt conveniently right around the time people started slurring their speech, so as to decline any dance requests. I would smile, say my apologies, and turn back to some type of conversation, ignoring their persistence and continuing to talk. The bad thing is that as the volume went up, a person's level of speech clarity would just plummet. After a while, I literally didn't understand a word anyone said to me (in any language) and had to shout "Lo siento" at the top of my lungs repeatedly while simultaneously shaking my head until they just eventually stopped trying to talk to me altogether. I left irritated, with sore feet and a hoarse voice.
It was all very taxing.

Thankfully, there was almost always someone who stepped in on a metaphorical shining steed, saving me from the borrachos* and winning every ounce of my gratitude.

But still, I think that will be my first and last time amanecer-ing. I'm chalking it up as a cultural experience, but the real lesson is that nothing good ever happens after midnight.

Oh, well ... One resolution down.

A muñeco

*borrachos = drunk people

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.