Mas Training, Blah, Blah, Blah

Week 4: I have to start out by saying that you guys need to take another gander at the entry right before this one. My Internet was SUPER slow when I was trying to post it and apparently, all 30-something pics that I included in that blog didn’t make it, so I have put them back in. I’m writing all of these next few blogs in retrospect; this one, about 7 weeks in hindsight. I am now at my site, sitting in what is going to be my kitchen for the next 2 years, and I can actually breathe now. Training was sheer madness, looking back on it. Anyway, since I have the time now, I’m going to walk you through the last weeks of training as best as my memory will serve me.

The most that I can remember about Week 4 was that it was the 4^th of July, and I had my first language proficiency interview.

Independence Day, for a lot of us, was a difficult day. It was overcast and particularly cold…and of course we had to go to training. By this point most of us are ready for some sort of break besides just having a Sunday to rest, talk to our families in the states, do laundry (many of us hand washing, BTW), and prepare for the next week. The staff tried to do fun things, but a good portion of us were being Negative Nancies, myself included. One of my friends put it best, “Why am I not on the beach, sippin a ­­­­­­mimosa in my bikini instead of getting off a crowded combi in my chompa?!?!” (“Chompa” is Peruvian for jacket. Yes, I said Peruvian and not Spanish because there is a lot of Peruvian slang here.) When we got to the training center, the language facilitators had prepared a fun-filled morning of track and field games. I hate to sound ungrateful for their hard work, but sleeping til noon and then throwing some dead meat on the grill (or in a pit in the ground, to be more Peruvian) with some friends and host family sounded much more appealing to me than sack and three-legged races.

"Cuy" ("gerbil") races. This little guy was lunch later.
Not really, but they do eat these in Peru. On my to-do list.

Food eating contest. It included several different Peruvian
style snacks and ended with whoever was the first
to blow a bubble with their gum.

So, I was terrified that I would lose one of the three
large spoons that my family owns, so I wanted to
keep it in a safe place. P.S.-How cute am I?

That´s an egg on a spoon in my mouth...not on my face

Water balloon toss

Wheelbarrow race

Scotney, whoopin everybody in the sack race

I tried to put my best foot forward (not just in the races, ha ha ha), but all the indifference and negativity was contagious and intensifying. I was on the Fusia team with two people that spent more time in the kitchen than they did on the field, which cost us ten points. We lost every race except the food-eating contest. Mr. I´ll be Smiling While I’m Plunging to my Death in a Combi Inferno” who went to Cajamarca with me, Andy, is known as “The Human Garbage Disposal” by his parents.

This is Scotney´s burger, as anyone could tell
from the ridiculous amount of ketchup

In the afternoon, we were treated to an American-style cookout at the Country Director’s house in Lima. We had real burgers! I say real burgers because it is not difficult to find a “burger” here in Peru. HOWEVER, it is typically a teeny piece of meat, paper thin, without vegetables, but including fries and different sauces. Yup, they just put the fries right on the bun, basically doing you the favor of eliminating any taste of your paper thin meat. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Peruvian food, for the most part (I plan to write an entire entry later), but I would not recommend the burger to an American. We also had different types of salads, which was awesome. I have heard stories that Peruvians eat salad, I just haven’t witnessed it yet. We also had cake, American style in the shape of an American flag. "American style" because this is the first cake made in Peru that I have eaten without raisins in it. There were enough burgers for everyone to have at least two, so we were all pretty happy. 

Then I experienced my first “hora loca” (crazy hour). I have been in Peru for over a month now, and I have experienced more clowns than I have experienced lettuce. Think about that one! Hora loca typically involves a clown leading a group in dance or games or both, ya know, just to liven things up. There were balloons and confetti and a lot of laughs. They keep saying that we will feel like teenagers because we are constantly in class, and people are always telling us where to go and what to do. I migrated from feeling like an adolescent to feeling like a preschooler that day, but in all honesty, it was fun.

Hora Loca

Super awesome crazy disco clown

Those few with enough loca-ness to make it to the end

On Friday, we had our first language proficiency interviews. When I started this crazy adventure, my language level was “Bajo Bajo,” Low Low. Many thanks to the stupendous foreign language departments at three different institutions of higher learning! Five semesters and a couple of thousand dollars later, and I’m Bajo Bajo. Anywho, my amazing facilitator here, Pablo, told us all to just remain calm and try not to overstep our bounds. It was pretty informal. I talked about Texas A LOT. I thought the questions about Texas would never end. Do you know how hard it is to explain to a foreigner in a foreign language that Texas is known for having everything BIG. I had to leave that topic pretty quickly because I just kept digging a deeper hole the more I tried to explain. My interviewer does know all about the Big Texan and how you can eat steak for free if you have the stomach for 72oz. of beef. Lol. Then I had to choose a famous person and pretend to interview them about their latest work. Somebody please tell me what was going on in my head for me to pick Glen Close. WTH? Glen Close? Out of the billions of famous people in the world, why, oh why, oh why did I choose Glen Close? I’m pretty sure that I made up the words for “Fatal Attraction” during my brilliant interview of…Glen Close. Needless to say, the “3DO” (myself and the other chicas from my Tres de Octubre neighborhood that started Bajo Bajo) group was pretty indifferent about our results. Nobody felt like they nailed it, but this one is not the one that really counts anyway. Every trainee has to be at the “Intermedio Medio,” Intermediate Medium, level to go on to be a real Volunteer by the last week of training. I will not keep you in suspense for a week, like the good people at Cuerpo de Paz (Peace Corps). At the 5^th week, I am officially Intermedio Bajo. A relief that I only have to advance one teeny level to graduate.

Oh! I think this was the week when I got to teach a session. Without getting on my high horse for too long and now reflecting on my past work and educational experiences, my graduate program at Midwestern State Univesity was phenomenal! I signed up to just aid my tech trainers in an 1 ½ hour lesson about adolescent development…or so I thought. They introduced the topic and gave me and a fellow trainee total control of the reigns…sort of. We had to follow the established guidelines provided by Peace Corps, but I added my own little tidbits of interesting info and clarified and expanded on some of the topics required to present. (Shout out to Dr. Diekhoff for giving me the opportunity to teach Lifespan Development! Never thought that that would come in handy like it has here. A million thanks to you, sir!) For the first time in training in this countr, I felt respected by my peers and teachers. I got a certificate of appreciation and later one of my tech trainers asked me to please speak more in classes because I have a lot to offer.

Next up…Week 5! Same Peace Corps time! Same Peace Corps channel!

Any 1960s “Batman” TV series fans out there? No? Biff! Blam! Splat! No? Ok…that’s cool.