Week 7:

So, upon my return, my host family was sooo excited to see me. A week is the longest that I had been away from home. By this point my family and I have gotten pretty close. My host mom is the coolest mom in the neighborhood. Everyone wants to hang out at my house despite the fact that there is Internet at other houses. Rebecca always makes us a snack and interacts with us. Always a ton of laughs, usually because none of us can speak Spanish, except Dylan, but it is so incredibly great to have some laughs after the trying days of training. Anywho, we decided to go to the zoo after lunch. (Please don’t be mad at me, but I forgot my camera.) So, Rebeca (mom), Gianelia (little sister), Trinidad (Gma), Yerlina (aunt), Valentina (baby cousin), Dylan (uncle and fellow trainee), and myself climbed on a combi. It is only about 45 minutes, but on a combi, it can feel like a couple of hours when you are standing up, getting an arm workout from the constant stopping and going. I must take this opportunity to mention one awesome thing about this country. Everywhere you go, there are “preferencias” (direct translation – “preferences”). These are check-outs (in grocery stores) or seats (in combis) that are (supposed to be) strictly for the elderly, pregnant women, parents with small children, and the disabled. So, Trinidad and Yerlina and the baby got to sit down for the entire ride, and as people exited the combi, Rebecca and Gianelia got to sit, but Dylan and I stood the whole way. It’s cool. It’s the most workout that I’m getting in this country so far.

This is a holiday weekend. It is “Fiestas Patrias” (directly, “Homeland Party,” indirectly, Independence Day). They celebrate for a much longer time than we celebrate our Fourth. The kiddos are out of school for at least two weeks. There have been vendors setting up their tents in the main park in Chaclacayo for over a couple of weeks now, and they will stay for about a month. So, with everybody on holiday, the zoo was cram-packed. Since I have no pics, I’ll try to describe it. It's a zoo - It has animals in cages. Good enough? Baaahahaha. Seriously though, it was really extremely similar to American zoos. It was expensive to get in (it was about $4 admission, but remember that that is S/. 12, over a day’s pay to yours truly (Uncle Sam, if you are reading this, I know you will appreciate my frugality J)), it was expensive to eat there, and it was expensive to see the most popular and fancy exhibits. Apparently the zoo that we went to is much smaller that the one in Lima, but I thought it was decent. Of course my favorite were the monkeys. We got there just in time for feeding. There was a huge birdhouse and an area devoted to the “selva,” or rainforest, which was really cool. Also, there was a section with sea life. Penguins are so cute in any country. The big animals (bear, lions, pumas, panthers) were a little disappointing. They did not look healthy – “muy flaca” (very thin). They did, however, have two white Bengal tigers that happened to be playing in their water hole for about five minutes when we walked by. This was the highlight of my trip – not only because I tower over Peruvians, so for the first time in my life, I feel tall and could actually see what was happening from the back of the crowd, but also because the tigers were cool.

This week at training was dominated by receiving our site locations. I felt so incredibly bad for the two “Volunteers of the Week” that we had this week. (Can’t remember if I have mentioned it – we have one Volunteer from each program (Youth Development and Community Economic Development) stay a full week with us to answer questions and just hang out). A lot of trainees were bombarding these guys (who were super cool BTW – Mandy from Piura and Brad from Cajamarca) with questions about where they were going to be placed, even though they said that they had no idea. On Monday we had chats with our project leaders to sort of finalize our desire for a specific region because everyone went to a place in their region (coast or sierra) for Field Based Training. Some people tried to decipher their site location based on the really vague hints that were given during these chats, but I personally didn’t think that I had enough knowledge of Peru or the Peace Corps to try and do that. I was so incredibly chill about the whole thing. It really didn’t matter to me. I was happy that I got coast and that was that. Buuuut, in the very back of my mind, I thought, “I kinda hope that I don’t get Lambayeque.” I had already visited there on FBT, I didn’t feel any kind of strong connection to the other Volunteers there (as a matter of fact, one guy had been kinda rude to me), and I had classically conditioned myself to dislike it because of the emotional break-down that I had in that department. Yeah, I just ruined the story cuz now you know what’s coming…

Thursday, July 25^th, site assignment day, a day to make you or break you, day of reckoning, judgment day. We are going to discover our sites by popping a balloon hanging from a clothesline with a picture of my face plastered on it and a note inside with my department on it.

The Balloon line of disappointment and despair

First-person view of my position in line

I was about 2/3 of the way down the line. My turn finally came, and of course it is Lambayeque! Of course! Everyone automatically received a folder with more info about their specific towns and mine was right next door to the Volunteer who was a little rude to me on FBT. Super! That is even more awesome! “Don’t cry, D.D. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Focus on something else. Good. Good. Watch the other people being excited about their departments. Frick! Nope. Not helping. Making it worse. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I look over at my buddy Caroline who is also going to be in Lambayeque, and she really wanted Ica. She’s bawling, and I lose it.

Caroline faking excitement about our site. 

Mind you, people had been talking all week about how someone always cries on site assignment day. There is always at least one person who is entirely displeased. I was totally that person, but I sure didn’t want to show it. There are cameras going off ninety-to-nothing and people there from all departments and headquarters, and I didn’t want to go down in Peru 21 history as the one who cried on site assignment day, but it happened, and then I couldn’t stop it.

Everyone going to Lambayeque trying to
pinpoint their sites while I'm feigning excitement
trying to hide the tears behind my camara

I was beginning to think that I should have been a little more worried like everyone else, and then maybe I wouldn’t be in this predicament. We had little meetings on and off all day, and I had probably 15 different people, who were only trying to help, ask me what the was wrong and give me little tokens of advice, but being left alone to actually read the information in my packet instead of being shuffled from meeting to meeting without knowing much about my actual site and having oh so many people in my face saying, “What’s the matter? Not what you wanted? It’s going to be OK. Blah, Blah, Blah.” I know that people were being super nice, but it was making it so much more difficult to turn off the waterworks. That was my day…all day.

When I finally got home, I read my packet thoroughly and found out that I had many colleagues, much more than most people had, so that was encouraging. And that my site is only about 2800 people, and I wanted a small site. Also, there is Internet in my house, which is a mighty fine luxury to have. I am usually always able to see the bright side of things, but I am so used to having time to myself to think that I was completely overwhelmed. I may go down in Peru 21 history as being the crybaby of site assignment day, but I was looking back and laughing in one day.

That Friday we had a celebration at the training center for Fiestas Patrias that was pretty fun.

Pablo demonstrating a traditional dance in which pieces of
cloth are attached to the dancers' hind-ends and then set on fire.
No language instructors were harmed during the demonstration
of this dance.

Yup. That's hot. LOL

Each language class had been assigned a different department in Peru to present the various traditions, foods, dances, fiestas, geography, etc. specific to that region. One guy and one girl from that class also got to dress in traditional costumes, so I totally volunteered. Super fun. Ain’t I adorable? My class’s region was Piura, way up in Northern Peru. It was very fun. We later ate cake and the dishes from each region.

Oh! This was the week that the 3DO people cooked tacos for my family. I had been talking with Rebeca about cooking chicken fried steak for the family before I left, but there is no such thing as cube steak in this country. I read online that you can make it out of round steak, but I hated to waste a good cut of beef chicken-frying it, and it just wouldn’t be traditional. So, there is a taco place in Chosica (the town about 20 minutes away). I had ate there once, and quite few of the trainees had made it a habit to go there about once a week, but during week five (I think) about 50% of the 20 people that ate there got food poisoning, so that place’s popularity fell by the wayside. Anyway, my older sister, Yerlin, had heard of tacos, but had never tried one and really wanted to, so I decided to make tacos. Here if you say “tacos,” you are talking about a pair of stiletto high heels. Weird! I was so glad that Rebecca (trainee, not mom), Dylan, and Caroline offered to help me out for a small fee of helping us eat, of course. We made everything from scratch with the refried beans being the most difficult thing, because we took turns mashing enough beans for 13 people to eat with a big spoon. (Trinidad didn’t have a masher-thingy). Caroline finely chopped up practically all the veggies and two blocks of sandwich slices of cheddar because I have yet to encounter shredded cheese in this country. Rebecca spent most of her time smushing beans (probably the most tedious job of all). Dylan seasoned and cooked the ground beef and made pico de gallo, and I made guacamole, warmed the tortillas, and supervised. If you say “tortilla” here, you are talking about an omelet. Weird again! They came out fantastic.

Official Chef pic

Me, host mom, and sis. So friggin cute! Luv them to death!

Everyone loved them, and all the Americans waaaay overindulged. It was really nice doing something for all the people that had done so very much for me. In Peru, it is traditional for the mother to serve up the plates for the rest of the family, so as to control everyone’s portions (or so I think this is the main reason), but tonight, I got to serve the rest of the family. It was awesome. I loved being the cause of their smiles…and full bellies!

A lot of ups and downs this week, but I am looking forward to the future even more now than ever. I cannot wait to get started at my own site!

Field Based Training:

This was the worst week of training. I tried to be as positive as possible. I was going to get to see a new place in Peru. I wouldn’t have to be at the training center. I was going with Caroline and Scotney and a couple of other people that I really like. The hosta has weefee and hot showers. However, this week I could’ve lived without.

Field Based Training is one full week (including the bus rides to location and back to Chaclacayo; in my case, 12 hours there and back again, a hobbit's tale) of madness. We gave charlas every day, sometimes 2-3 charlas a day. We had one charla completely by ourselves. All of the charlas up to this point have been in a group. Even though most were divided individually, at least we still had each other in the room for backup. The other 27 hundred billion zillion charlas were done in groups or in pairs. For me, it is not the actual giving of the charlas that is so intense. Typically once I get in the classroom, I really enjoy myself and usually the kids are great. It is the prep time that is so frustrating for me. At this point, with my language level, I feel compelled to write out every word, trying to anticipate any possible problem that could occur. My scripts for these charlas are like those “choose your own adventure” books that I read when I was a kid. (Melis, I know you know what I’m talking about) "If Student A does not understand the instructions, go to page 3, paragraph 2. If Student B does not participate in the activity, go to page 5, paragraph 3. There you will find how to cope with this scenario in Spanish." I spent probably 4-6 hours a night preparing for each charla. Nine times out of ten, I’m cussing myself after the charla is over for spending such a ridiculous amount of time on preparation. So, the one lesson that I did take from FBT is to not prepare so much. I spent about 30 minutes preparing my second to last charla and bout 5 minutes on my last one. Also, I'm learning how to look like an idiot in front of groups of people without feeling like one.

I finally broke this week. So far, I felt as though I haven’t had any time to just sit and reflect about my experiences. Everything in training is so rushed. I’m exhausted and just want to sleep or play a mindless game of Candy Crush by the end of the day. I have seen a couple of people snap in angry outbursts, and I’ve witnessed a several crying fits so far, but I have been pretty numb up until this point. I couldn’t tell you why, but I cried almost constantly the third day into FBT. I think I took a break from crying at lunch, but that was about it. I had no specific reason at first. Just my turn to cry. Then later that day, I found out that there were going to be two people that were going to have to give their solo charlas to all-boys classes. Guess who one of the lucky ones was? That’s right. This was not a catastrophe, but you know how once you start crying, it’s difficult to shut off the waterworks? Peruvian boys are 20xs more rambunctious than Peruvian girls, so this set me off crying again. I was able to control my blubbering because I was giving a charla that I had given previously, and it was very successful. Aaaaaaand theeeeeen, the Volunteer whose site we are visiting the next day and giving our individual charlas in her school tells me that the boys in her school are highly disrespectful and extremely “machista.” (Machista is what you call a follower of machismo, a common Latin American belief and practice that men are the better, more dominant sex.) The volunteer asks me, “How’s your Spanish?” To which I reply, “It’s not.” She said nothing else and just looked at the ground. Definitely felt like a good cry was needed again. Aaaaaand theeeeeen, even though my charla had been checked and approved that morning by my language facilitator, my tech trainer wanted to review it because of the new development with the all-boys class. OK, sure. I still felt good about it until she totally ripped me a new one. She thought that it would not work with an all-boys class. They would run all over me. They will never participate in this activity, etc., etc. Super! After attempting to explain that I had done this same charla with great success and that I do have some classroom management skills to no avail, I ended up crossing my arms and just shutting down while she talked about how I should change it. Not productive. Not adult-like. Not helpful. Not OK. I can write about all the crazy mixed emotions that one has when they are starting a new job, in a country thousands of miles away from home, without friends and family, can’t speak the language, haven’t pooped in 6 days, haven’t showered in 4 days, sleeping on a bed as hard as a rock with people you don’t really know constantly telling you what to do, but this is what I signed up for and I really have no excuses for my behavior. I left my tech trainer, went downstairs to my room, balled like a baby to another Volunteer. Then I ran into my language facilitator in the hallway, balled like a baby to her for about an hour, and ended up not changing a thing in my charla.

The next morning with a clearer head, 3 cups of coffee, and apparently a night of cussing someone out in my sleep (so says my roommate, Erin, a volunteer of one year and just an all-round cool chick from Texas), I added two of the suggestions that the tech trainer recommended the previous night on the combi ride that morning to the school, but still left it primarily my own. It was way too late to try to rewrite a completely new script. I had to wait 45 minutes for a fellow trainee to give his charla, so D.D. and I had a long pep talk outside the classroom. (Yes, I just referred to myself in the third person. Generally something I dislike, but I feel as though the severity of this talk with myself granted the reference.) I walked up in that classroom like I owned it. I sat my script on the teacher’s desk and never looked back. By the end of my charla, I had 25 15- and 16-year-old boys chanting, “D.D.! D.D.! D.D.!” I have never been so proud and thrilled and yet really disturbed at the same time in all of my 30 years! My friend, Scotney, was one of my reviewers. Her evaluation form just had scribbles all over it, “Who are you?!?” “You are so amazing!” “Sin cuaderno?!?! SIN CUADERNO?!?!” (Without your notebook?!?!) All of my compañeros were done with their charlas and could hear the boys chanting my name. So, as you can imagine, the story got passed around and anytime I did ANYTHING for the last 4 weeks of training, all of my fellow trainees would chant my name. I could clear my throat, and there would be 34 Peace Corps trainees shouting, “D.D.! D.D.! D.D.!” Hilarious. Also, just so ya know, my tech trainer gave me an A on that charla ;)

I know how much you all adore my photos, so here are a few bonus pics from FBT:

Field Based Training (BTW, there were six other
trainees sleeping in chairs, couches, beds, and
the foor 10 minutes before our 3rd-to-last charlas.)

Ahhhh, the faces of utter excitement.

Sit when you can

Every different town that we visited had something interesting. Check it out:

Olmos (city), Olmos (district, like a county), Lambayeque (department, like a state), Perú (country, I hope you aready knew that): Besides the capital city of Lambayeque, this is the biggest city we visited, about 28,000, if I remember correctly. Way up in north Lambayeque.

Lime capital of Perú

City Gate

These are everywhere - safe zones for earthquakes. The last
one was still fresh in my mind.

Ben, me, some really awesome chicas that we taught the
difference between opinion and fact to, and Lindsay,
Peru 21's most prestigious Presidenta.

Gang sign? I'm really not sure...

P.E. with "hula hulas"

Zaña: Tee-ninecy town in the southern part of Lambayeque, about 45 minutes from the capital.

Super nice folks here. Afro-Peruanos are much more rare
and discrimnated against than African-Americans.
They are centralized in one town closer to Lima. It was cool
seeing their history and traditions in a tiny town.

Slave gallows

Slaves eventually ilberated themselves after
hearing about the rebellions in Haiti and Cuba.
I can't remember the whole history...
plus it was in Spanish, soooooo

Used to brand slaves

This was a specia treat. A group of folks and one gringo
(the bond PC Volunteer on the right) payed traditional
Afro Peruano music for us with instruments - a cajón
(the box the white chick is playing), drums,
and jaw bones of animals

My super awesome Spanish tutor, Isabel, dancing it up!

Some ruins in Zaña. We didn't go inside,
but this used to be a  monastery.

Me and my friend, Keiko

D.D. from Texas, Isabel from Perú, Natalia from New York, Ben from Michigan, and Scotney from Cali

Two totally amazing gals from Texas. This is Erin, our FBT coordinator.

Pimentel: Sorry I don't have more pics. Nice beach here. This was my boo-hoo day.

Youth vounteers work closely with heath posts as well as schools.
SIDA is AIDS.

Patapo: Another smallish town where we gave charlas and participated in an all-girls sports day to combat machismo.

Meeting the mayor. Wow! Look at the back of those sexy
Texans' heads!

This is a reay popuar game with the muchachas of Perú. You have to jump over the ropes that begin on the ground and keep inching its way up. Scotney is younger than me, physically and in spirit.

Just jump rope. This litte girl shared her teeny bag of chips
with all 12 PC people that were visiting.

Giving a charla about women's equality.

All the muchachos that were NOT allowed to participate
in the all-girls soccer game

Helping paint a wall in town that would eventually have
pretty drawings and sayings put there by a local youth group

Chiclayo, the capital city of Lambayeque:

These wall paintings are all over the city, put there by a local
youth group, called "Acción Poética," Poetic Action.
This one says, "What does your heart say?"

Every town in Peru has at least one park. This is one of
many in Chiclayo.

Scotney, hugging a person-shaped bush.
Friggin tree-hugger! LOL!

Greek statues in a Peruvian park.

What a sexy beast!

The whole youth development, coast FBT group.

My shower head in the hostel that provided me with hot water.
Oh! How I love thee!

An artisan fashion show, organized by a PC Vounteer.

A museum with Señor Sipan, a leader in a pre-Incan culture.
Cameras were not allowed inside, but it was really cool.

Scot directing traffic.

Street drawing with chalk

You may notice that some of these pics are not turned vertically. I am now in my site. Although I have Internet in the house (I am very spoiled), it is not American internet. It took 2 1/2 hours to upload 12 pictures two blogs ago (and on this computer, the "l" only works when it wants to and the "u" sticks realy bad) and the Internet is for sale in my house, so that was 2 1/2 hours that my generous family lost money. Please relish in these pics and with some luck, in the future, I will get my Skydrive working. 

Also, if anybody needs in any further reading into what my life is like, here's a couple of links for friends and family of Peace Corps Volunteers:

http://files.peacecorps.gov/multimedia/pdf/faf/PC_Family_and_Friends_2012.pdf

http://files.peacecorps.gov/multimedia/pdf/faf/homefront.pdf

Miss you a!