Coming home

My last day in Cusco I woke up late after a night of fiestas. I drank the fresh, fresh juice Maria had made for me and tried to drink in every moment the way I savoured that juice. Our final meal as a group of student volunteers was shared at the same restaurant where we tasted our first. My Spanish professor came with her big-eyed little boy with an Italian name: Fabriccio. When we left she hugged me and thanked me for my support. I learned so much more from her than I ever have in any other Spanish class thus far. I said goodbye to the group and began my last meanderings through my beautiful city of stone and history and shaggy stray dogs. I met Denis at our spot at the bench at Limac Pampa. We ran some of my last errands and ate ahuaymanto (a fruit which only grows in the department of Cusco) and sauco ice cream at the place across from the Qoricancha or the Incan temple of gold that was replaced by the church when the Spanish came and stripped away all its beauty. I listened to the last vendors as they implored me to buy their finger puppets or their watercolors for 1 sol. Then I went to Denis' house for the first time in my entire three months and some odd days in Cusco. She lives high above San Blas up where you can see the entire city of Cusco. If you jumped off the cliffed you could soar over the orange tile roofs and land lightly on top of one of the cathedrals in the Plaza de Armas. Travelling to her house, we took a combi and I experienced for the last time the life of a sardine hispanohablante. I was greeted by her mother, who kissed me on the cheek, hugged me, and wished me a safe journey while she held my hands and smiled. We had come to retrieve the monstrosity of a suitcase Denis was giving me to tote home my many gifts for my loved ones back home. In the car I laughed and sang along to "I'm never gonna dance again... guilty feet have got no rhythm..." but at the same time I was crying because I would be saying goodbye to the dear friend with whom I shared it all. What emotions one feels when torn between two worlds and two families she holds dear.

We said goodbye, or "see you later" as she insisted over an over again through tear-clouded eyes. I will never forget her laughter, or her hugs which hold nothing back, or the way we could switch between languages without blinking. I know I will see her again. So now I am smiling.

That night Edson, Evelyn, and Maria took me out for my favorite Hawaiiana pizza with extra durazno and sin jamon. We laughed over the slow service at a place called "pronta pizza" while we sipped our chicha morada and they asked me again and again when I would be coming back to visit them. I said that I didn't know, but I thought, "as soon as possible." They are a part of my family now, a part of my story. They have taught me more than every teacher combined thus far. Maria wondered why I had to leave, and a few times I wondered myself. If only I could find a way to keep them close at hand along with all of you. Along with all of my friends from Swaziland and all of the dear, dear friends who (despite all my idealism) will inevitably slip away.

Afterwards we exchanged gifts. I was amazed by how much they gave me, and once I touched the alpaca teddy bear I didn't want to let it go. I gave them a picture frame filled with a picture of the four of us. I had glued huayruro seeds for good luck all around the frame. It surrounded our picture like a halo of happiness. I know they won't forget the time we've shared.

Then I had to say goodbye to Evelyn and Edson. I cannot imagine more special people to have as friends, as family. They are so much to me. And the tears came like they always do. I held onto those hugs because I didn't want them to end. I will forever have an older brother now! How lucky can one girl be?

The next day was really the last. I said goodbye to the girls in my group who I had spent so many hours with dreaming about foods we missed instead of studying, sharing stories, jokes, and three months of our lives together. More ice cream. More laughter. I cried as Pepe and Andrea ushered me into my cab home and felt cheated when the taxista wanted me to pay an extra 50 centimos for a ride I had paid the same rate for every time. But I paid it. Maybe it will help him. Maybe the next crying girl that hops in his cab will not be charged the gringa rate. Or maybe like me, she will no longer care. He doesn't make much money as it is.

Maria made me ceviche but I could barely eat it for all the butterflies in my stomach about leaving. She smiled and said she understood. Esmeralda arrived and we went to the airport with one overweight bag and one backpack that needed to be wrapped in plastic, or so said the attendant. The plastic came with a password so I would know it was my bag. Maria, in the way she has of doing things just when I need to be somewhere, wrote my family a note and a small one for me that said in one corner "saludos a Yessi" just when I should have been going to my gate. Or maybe she was only trying to put off my leaving. As I stared at the expensive leather jackets in the boutique in front of us, my eyes began to tear and Esmeralda hugged me and took a picture with her camera phone. We will miss you, oh how we will miss you, she kept saying. And then it was time. I hugged my Maria hard. My dear Maria. My Peruvian mother, who smiled more than anyone I've ever met, who would fall asleep on the couch every night, who actually enjoyed watching BBC news with me even though it was in English, who knew so much about food, who made sure I had everything and took care of me as though we really were blood related. She embodies the word amazing.

I cried what seemed like as much as the Amazon river, and when the airport workers tried to comfort me, I cried more. Are you leaving your boyfriend here? they asked. They spoke to me in English but I replied in Spanish. It comforted me somehow. I told them I was going to my boyfriend, and they said I should be happy. I was happy. Happy-sad.

In Lima, my Peruvian brother Orlando picked me up and took me on combi after combi through the big city of 9 million. I drank my last cusqueña with him and his friend, a math teacher of thirteen year olds. He told me to hold my bag close by and he held my teddy bear, who I named Mohammed. He enjoyed playing with it more than he would let on. Later we said goodbye when the airport attendant wouldn't let him go further. He's a city slicker, but he's got a heart as big as Edson's.

And in this way I left Peru. I left behind my gifts for the family, some shampoo and lotion for the next ProPeru volunteers, my luggage (but that is another story), and as Vuyo in Swaziland would say, a big chunk of my heart. Pretty soon you'll find pieces of my heart floating all over this earth. But it was worth every heart-wrenching moment to have the experience I've had and to have met such extroardinary people. If you ever go to Cusco, you will find poverty and men urinating in the streets and hundreds of people hungry to feed on unsuspecting tourists, but you will find a people full of life and love and culture begging you not to cry and filling your time there with joy and dancing and color. If you ever go to Cusco, you will need to go back.

Free Trade Agreement?

http://www.worldpress.org/Americas/2993.cfm

You may or may not remember that a few years ago there was a free trade agreement in the works between the United States and the group of Andean countries. Now it's just Peru! It's been a topic of conversation several times in our political science class, so I thought you might want to read up on it. In the opinion of the man who came to speak to us about globalization, this agreement would do great things for Peru's economy and not much for the U.S. other than give us an in in Latin America to try to shove out the influence of Venezuela's Hugo Chavez. It may also be difficult for Peruvian farmers to compete with farmers in the U.S. who are receiving subsidies. Corn, for example, is a major crop here.

I thought it was important for me to inform you as your representative from Peru about what is going on of importance politically/economically in these parts. In the most recent democratic debate (with I watched half in Spanish so Edson could watch with me) this was a talking point. So now you know! What do you think?

Me voy por avión

I’m sad to say that the end of my time here in Peru will soon come to an end. Can you believe how quickly the months have passed? At times it felt like it would never end but now that it is the time is slipping through my fingers and I will be leaving in less than a week. Tears will be spilled for sure when I leave my family and Denis and everyone else that I’ve met here. But I’ll also be thrilled to come home. So I’m stuck here in the middle, torn between two worlds I love…

Things I Won’t Miss About Cusco

• the number of stray dogs on the street that could decide to be rabid at any moment (I have a pretty irrational fear built up and I still avoid the mean dog down the street)
• the lack of toilet paper in every bathroom
• cab drivers that get a little too personal and/or try to give you the gringa price
• the forever uneven sidewalks that create impassable puddles of muddy water
• the cloud of black smog that follows every bus
• the river lleno de garbage
• the fact that in the touristy areas my white face says dollar signs to every vendor within a three mile radius
• the amount of gas I have at this altitude and not being able to control it at key moments… haha…

Things I Will Miss TERRIBLY About Cusco

• Being able to communicate in SPANISH all day every day
• My family and our little house with the white picket fence
• When Edson decides to sing a song while wearing a shawl over his head like a widow
• Greeting every single person with a kiss on the cheek when I walk in a room
• Being called “Laurita”
• Hearing a song I like on the radio and telling the cab driver to turn it up!
• The orange roofs and the blue, blue sky
• Hearing the doormen on the combis speak like auctioneers as they fly by
• Watching the ladies from the campo with their mantas and realizing just when I am right behind them that they have a little baby wrapped up in those blankets on their backs
• Buying Princesa bars at a grocery store called La Canasta (the basket)
• Listening to my sobrinos (nieces and nephews) play and hearing Estrella say funny things like ‘aña instead of España and saying “mío” all the time
• Meeting Denis and speaking our own mixture of Spanish and English while walking in the rain every time
• The satisfaction of grasping a great deal more about the politics of Latin America than I did when I came
• Eating mangoes, Maria’s hot chocolate, choclo and the big popcorn it makes, quinua, coca tea, muña (the Peruvian mint)
• My favorite tree in all of Cusco
• My favorite plazoleta
• Dancing my heart out at Garabatos
• Playing with the kids at Conchacalla
• Maria’s smile that only fades when she yells at me to wear my coat!
• The fact that every single child I have ever seen here has been adorable
• That certain place on the way to school where the cab and combi drivers always cross themselves
• Watching women weave or spinning their alpaca yarn
• The Andes
• Evelyn’s accent when she speaks English and the way she says everything is “superlindo”
• The heavy, warm alpaca blankets on my bed
• Cusqueña
• Edson, Evelyn, Denis, Maria, Esmeralda, Milagro, Irma, Lucio, Pepe, Suci, the really nice smiley man who sits at the reception desk at the CBC, the girl in the bakery who’s learning English, the old man who sits on the stone with our street name every morning, the ladies selling papaya with their monotone voices, etc.

Tú vives equivocada

Sometimes I get really mad at Peruvians. It’s usually when I leave political science class. A lot of times it happens when we’re discussing the government’s use of funds. But most recently it had to do with their treatment of the environment.

There’s a river that runs through Cusco called Huatanay. It runs right by the Molino, and right by the neighborhood in San Jeronimo where we start going up the mountain to Conchacalla. It is hands down the dirtiest river I have ever seen in my life. It looks like a dump. It is absolutely full of every piece of trash imaginable. It’s a nasty color. It smells. It makes you want to vomit.

One day in political science class Carlos brought in a guy who I believe works with the municipality to talk about Peru’s environmental policy. Carlos is very proud of the fact that some of the “rights” included under the constitution of Peru (which has been rewritten more than 12 times since Peru became a Republic) are rights that protect the environment and animals. It sounds really wonderful and cutting-edge. Certainly a lot better than what we have in our own country, but unfortunately it’s not put into practice. The speaker went on and on about how great these laws are for the whole class. Afterwards is when I dove in.

I didn’t hold back. I asked what was being done. I asked why Huatanay was allowed to remain that way in a country with laws designed to protect the environment. I asked what kids were being taught in school. I asked why there weren’t recycling programs. The answers: there is no interest, there aren’t really any student groups like Greenthumb fighting to get things done, and that there has been pressure on the government to clean up Huatanay for years but it has never been done. That Peru doesn’t have the resources or technology for a recycling program.

And he’s right. The bigger issues here in Peru are putting food on the table, finding stable employment, trying to get an education in the country declared the worst in primary education, and in getting through university when the professors are on strike half of your college career. It’s hard to think about the environment when your only goal is to survive.

But I had still hoped for more out of Peruvians. And in reality they aren’t completely oblivious. Edson himself once mentioned wanting to have a tree planting day and I’ve talked with him multiple times about the lack of green space in the city (he blames the architects that design the parks here). Carlos talks about Huatanay every chance he gets on television. The laws for passage on the Inca trail are becoming stricter an effort to preserve Machu Picchu. (In exasperation, I was citing the rules in Machu Picchu and wondering how the Peruvians could have pride predominantly in the pieces of land that could generate profit.

What ended up being even more saddening for me than the lack of drive of Peruvians to fight to preserve the incredible beauty of their land was the ignorance of one of my classes on the abuses of the United States to the environment. She was for some reason defending the U.S. after the speaker had spoken of our contribution to global warming. She was unaware that we did not sign Kyoto. She was arguing that Peruvians contribute more to the destruction of this earth. I felt frustrated by her lack of knowledge and the fact that her questions were getting in the way of the pressure I was trying to put on the speaker.

Because of all of this, I am unbelievably grateful for what I have in the form of Greenthumb. Our little environmental club faces obstacles, challenges, and frustrations in Lexington, but we keep fighting. We see the need and we will make sacrifices to try to chip away at the damage we are doing to our Earth. If any of you are reading this, know that we are a powerful group and that we have an extremely noble cause. And any change we are able to make is going to help Peru, which is one of the places in the world most impacted by the changes caused by global warming. The same people chucking their chicha bags in the river are watching as all of the snow in their mountains dries up and their corn crops are ruined by later and later rainy seasons. My hope for Peru is that it will someday arrive in a place where the environment becomes more of a priority, but until then we will have to work individually and through groups like Greenthumb to make sure the people of the Andes don’t bear the brunt of the suffering and sink further into poverty.

Another time I was more shocked than mad. The subject was violence in the politics of Latin America. My professor began to talk about all of golpes del estado and military takeovers, guerillos, and terrorist organizations. Later he talked about what violence is to Latinos. He said that when Latin Americans can’t get what they want through the system legally, they will use force. He called violence a resource that they can always turn to. He even gave an example about a cause of his own and said he would use force if necessary to achieve his goal. Needless to say, it was a little disturbing to me, forever the idealist. But it’s certainly true in terms of history.

Later when I talked to Edson about it I got a different perspective. He was surprised that Carlos had used the word “resource”, but he said this idea was human nature. Violence is what happens when people can’t get their way peacefully. He cited the worker’s riots in Chicago and said that in some ways America had started it all… Latin Americans learn about those riots in school, but I can’t recall when I might have studied those riots. The Chicago fire gets more attention.

As I thought about violence in our own country, I realized that we may be a bit guiltier of using it as a resource than I’d realized. George Bush certainly seems to view it as a resource, and at times bypasses attempts to get what he wants peacefully or with the guidance of the United Nations.

So here I am with my frustrations at Peruvians that turn out to be frustrations at my own country and humans in general…

Sometimes I get really mad at Peruvians. But maybe I should direct the greater part of that anger back home.

Todavía diahrrea

The title of this blog entry is the name of a song that my friend Amy is going to write about her experience in Perú. Unfortunately, it also describes our trip to Machu Picchu.

The first day we met up with our guide Johan (who had an annoying habit of saying señoritas about a thousand times per sentence) for our 6 hour hike from km. 104 on the camino Inca. I thought that it would be fairly leisurely, having heard that it was the easiest hike you could take to Machu Picchu. I was wrong. It was really hard. A lot of the time I could barely breathe. I had to be given oxygen several times. It was quite scary. I guess being here 2 months to get used to the altitude wasn't quite enough time for my poor lungs... At least the path itself was beautifully green and full of flowers and trees and all the things I've been missing in the dry season in Cusco. I just wish there weren't so many steps... I can't even imagine doing the 4 day hike! Most of the group did do that one, and they haven't come back yet to report on how it went.

When we finally arrived at Machu Picchu to catch the last bus down to Aguas Calientes, we were able to see Machu Picchu as the sun was setting behind the mountains. It's really an incredible sight, a gigantic stone playground that was once an amazing city full of the religion of the Incas and wondrous irrigation systems. I was too tired then to enjoy it, but I figured I had the entire next day...

We hiked up the hill to the medicinal baths that gave Aguas Calientes its name. They smelled a bit like egg drop soup, but they were pretty southing after a long day of hiking. Then we ate dinner at a small hole in the wall of a restaurant that I am now blaming for the stomach problems both Amy and I woke up with the next day. What a ridiculous day to be sick! I was pretty disappointed, but I pushed myself enough to take the tour up and down the city for a few minutes before I was too exhausted to move anymore, having only eaten crackers and running to the bathroom at least every ten minutes. Fun times. Hopefully someday I can go back and experience Machu Picchu the way it should be. But for now I'm probably going to look back on it as poopy times.

Luckily for me my stomach issues seem to have cleared up pretty quickly at this point. Last night I was able to go out for dinner with Edson and Maria so that they could try falafel. As far as I could tell they liked it. I think they actually liked the hummus best. This weekend I'm planning to go camping in Pisac with Evelyn and Edson, so I'm pretty excited about that! Until then, I hope these blog entries have satisfied you and filled you in on all you've been missing.

I miss you all!

Fotos para ver

Here are some links to more photos from recent events. Enjoy!

http://utk.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2169509&l=a84d5&id=12900100

http://utk.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2169517&l=daea0&id=12900100

Mis cumpleaños

My birthday here in Cusco ended up being a blast. Of course I missed my family and Jesse and all of my friends back home terribly, but I made it work here!

A few days before Halloween I convinced Edson and Maria that we had to have a jack-o-lantern, so we went on a quest with Evelyn at the Molino to find the perfect calabasa (which I always learned was the word for pumpkin). It turned out calabasas were not much like pumpkins at all. They're a lot smaller and an entirely unsuitable shape. So then we started looking for a good zapallo (squash which also sometimes means pumpkin so I'm kind of confused, to say the least), but they were all HUGE... about 25 kilos each... So we didn't find one that day at the molino. But the next day Edson went out and brought home a nice, round, green zapallo that could sit up on its own! So we got to work. We decided to make a traditional face since this was the first jack-o-lantern for the household. Edson was really into it and he did most of the carving himself. I was really thrilled by how much he enjoyed it, and how Maria and Evelyn ooohed and ahhed and wanted to have their pictures made with it after we put in the vela (candle) and put it outside in all its Halloween glory.

On the night of Halloween, my sobrinos (niece and nephews) came over and Edson and I took Valeria and Eduardo to the plaza to go trick-or-treating. It was really interesting to experience it in a different way. Valeria was the evil witch from snow white (although I'm pretty sure she thought she was the princess), Eduardo was hombre araña (Corey and Jonathan would get along well with him) which from what I could tell was the most popular costume of the evening. I was a cuy (that's right, a guinea pig) and Edson was Pablito or Pablucha, a guy from a legend about a girl who got raped by a bear and Pablito saved the day by killing the oso. His costume was pretty awesome. You'll have to consult the pictures.

To say "trick or treat" the kids would just scream "HALLOWEEEEN" at each of the stores in the plaza. By the time we got there, almost all of them were saying "ya no hay" since they had run out early on. Clearly these people have not yet mastered the concept of Halloween. But they do it in their own way, I suppose. It was really cool to be in the plaza with all the lights and a TON of parents and children. It was a little bit more magical than walking down the streets of Greenbriar, but it didn't have the same neighborhood feeling when you ring the doorbell and see someone who has essentially watched you grow up and knows it's your birthday so they give you a dollar!

After we went around the plaza for awhile, we headed back since Eduardo was almost asleep and just barely trudging along. Estrella was there too, but her fear of masks kept her from going out in her cute Tinkerbell costume. She probably stayed at home where she could rule everyone by looking cute and screaming, "agua!" because she didn't want to eat. Anyway, we got back home and started getting ready for my birthday party! All the students in the program came along with my friend Denis and her friend Rocío. Most of the ProPeru girls were dressed up as "revolutionaries" including Tupac Amaru, Fidel Castro, and Che Guevara. Essentially their costumes involved drawing mustaches on each other and wearing hats. Although Michelle's Che costume was pretty convincing. Dane, Grant, and Carly wore traditional outfits they rented complete with limp stuffed llamas. I really enjoyed the party, and probably drank most of the cuba libres (coke and rum) available. During the course of the evening, each of Maria's other children called me to say Happy Birthday! We went out to the plaza shortly afterwards, but I didn't last long.

It was really an amazing birthday. Thanks to everyone who sent me something in the mail or wrote me an email or a facebook message or even sent me warm wishes! I'm a very lucky girl. It was a great birthday! I'm 22!