Thursday, November 24, 2011
Reminiscing a Peruvian Thanksgiving
As I prepare for Thanksgiving dinner here in Florida, I have been reminiscing Thanksgiving in Peru. Cooking in a tiny roach infested kitchen, having everyone involved in the preparation, the boys playing futbol in the yard,]; it was one of the most memorable Thanksgivings I've ever had. I'll never forget the whole Peruvian family gathered around the table sharing all the things we were thankful for in our broken Spanish. I discovered it's not the location that makes Thanksgiving special, it's the people gathered around the table. Feliz Dia de Gracia, Happy Thanksgiving!
Friday, May 13, 2011
What I miss
After reading Hanna’s last few blogs and nearly crying, I thought about all the things about Peru that I miss since being back home. Here are just a few things (warning: some may be the same as what Hanna said she will miss).
1. My family.
2. Waking up to roosters in the morning.
3. Having chickens to eat my leftovers. (It hurt me to toss out some food the other night, I wished I had the chickens to gobble it all up).
4. Hailing a taxi, motorcar, or combi. (While I’m happy to have a car to drive, it is SO much cheaper to ride public transportation, and I got to meet people).
5. Sitting around the table at Km 38 in the evenings.
6. Being yelled at by Elias in his room telling all of us to be quiet so he could sleep.
7. Elias’s laugh.
8. Hearing the boys yell, “Refresco!” in the afternoons.
9. My students tackling me as I arrived at class.
10. Making watery, milky oatmeal for breakfast EVERY morning.
11. The produce lady in Campo Verde.
12. The corner shop lady in Campo Verde.
13. All the shop owners in Campo Verde.
14. Eating pollo and papas fritas with the chicos.
15. Speaking Spanish.
16. Showering outside with cold water (I have actually been ending my showers with cold water).
17. Brushing my teeth under the stars.
18. Hearing the Doctor’s kids play outside after school.
19. Buying biscocho and pan integral at the Ucayali bakery.
20. The internet ladies in Pucallpa.
21. Internet users in Pucallpa.
22. Alfredo, the coolest taxi driver.
23. Chickens and dogs running through church.
24. Hermana Lucia singing hymns off-tune.
25. Hermana Lucia announcing the special music that I had “prepared for all week.”
26. My Santa Elvita kids.
27. Sipping fresh squeezed orange juice at Leidy’s on a blistering hot afternoon.
28. Playing with Jackie and Charles, my two favorite Peruvian kids.
29. Cheek to Cheek greetings.
30. Cooking with Hanna and Rebecca.
Oh, I could go on for quite a while, but I won’t risk boring you. What I miss most of all, though, are the people. I miss sharing laughs and good conversations, and just sitting in the same room with them, even if no words were spoken. What hurts me the most is that I can never go back to that time. I only have my memories to remind me. Thankfully, I can replay the reel as many times as I want. So, pardon me while I hit repeat.
1. My family.
2. Waking up to roosters in the morning.
3. Having chickens to eat my leftovers. (It hurt me to toss out some food the other night, I wished I had the chickens to gobble it all up).
4. Hailing a taxi, motorcar, or combi. (While I’m happy to have a car to drive, it is SO much cheaper to ride public transportation, and I got to meet people).
5. Sitting around the table at Km 38 in the evenings.
6. Being yelled at by Elias in his room telling all of us to be quiet so he could sleep.
7. Elias’s laugh.
8. Hearing the boys yell, “Refresco!” in the afternoons.
9. My students tackling me as I arrived at class.
10. Making watery, milky oatmeal for breakfast EVERY morning.
11. The produce lady in Campo Verde.
12. The corner shop lady in Campo Verde.
13. All the shop owners in Campo Verde.
14. Eating pollo and papas fritas with the chicos.
15. Speaking Spanish.
16. Showering outside with cold water (I have actually been ending my showers with cold water).
17. Brushing my teeth under the stars.
18. Hearing the Doctor’s kids play outside after school.
19. Buying biscocho and pan integral at the Ucayali bakery.
20. The internet ladies in Pucallpa.
21. Internet users in Pucallpa.
22. Alfredo, the coolest taxi driver.
23. Chickens and dogs running through church.
24. Hermana Lucia singing hymns off-tune.
25. Hermana Lucia announcing the special music that I had “prepared for all week.”
26. My Santa Elvita kids.
27. Sipping fresh squeezed orange juice at Leidy’s on a blistering hot afternoon.
28. Playing with Jackie and Charles, my two favorite Peruvian kids.
29. Cheek to Cheek greetings.
30. Cooking with Hanna and Rebecca.
Oh, I could go on for quite a while, but I won’t risk boring you. What I miss most of all, though, are the people. I miss sharing laughs and good conversations, and just sitting in the same room with them, even if no words were spoken. What hurts me the most is that I can never go back to that time. I only have my memories to remind me. Thankfully, I can replay the reel as many times as I want. So, pardon me while I hit repeat.
Where does this piece fit?
I just got off the phone (or rather the MagicJack) with the folks at Km 38. I caught a little knot in my throat as I heard all their voices coming across the phone line. Up until the last couple days I hadn’t had time to really take in the fact that I had left my home of 8 months and returned to my home of the past 21 years and 4 months.
The day after getting home (yes I did finally make it home after spending 24 hours in Lima, a few of which were wonderfully spent with Rachel, Steph, and Chris) I dove head first into pre-wedding activities. No, not my wedding, Alli and Albert Handal’s wedding. The whole week was a blur of shopping, bridal parties, and hair and make-up. It was a beautiful wedding, and I’m glad I made it back in time. For a little bit there, I thought I might be stuck in Lima until my teeth fell out.
But now, wedding excitement is over (at least until the next 2…. or 20) and I now have time to reflect on my time in Peru, and how it has affected me. At first it seemed as though I have returned the same as I was before I left. But now and then I start to see glimpses of things that have changed within me, perspectives that have changed. Also, I don’t know if I’m just trying to adjust to being around so many people or if this is a part of the Jenessa I’m having to get used to, but lately I’ve felt more of the “I” of the Myers Briggs pushing the “E” out of the way. Not totally, but they seem to be sharing the space a little more. I think it’s just a temporary thing as I am trying to adjust to being back home.
They say that culture shock is often times worse coming back from than going to another country. I think it’s because when you go to another country you expect things to be different than home. You expect the food to be different, the language to be different, and the people to be different. I think when you return home, you have changed a little and you expect the things at home to have changed with you, but that’s often not the case. Or maybe you expect things to be the same but everyone else has continued through life without you.
I’d have to say my biggest shock hasn’t been the super shopping centers, or the hundreds of cars instead of motorcycles on the road, or that everyone speaks English instead of Castellano, or that there are whole aisles of toothpaste instead of one small shelf. While all of those things have taken a little bit of adjustment, I think what I have been struggling with the most is taking the Pre-Missionary Jenessa and the Post Missionary Jenessa and meshing the two together. I struggle with which way of thinking is “correct.” I struggle with not saying, “this is how we did it when I was in Peru,” or “when I was in Peru…” Adjusting is……hard. There have been a couple times when all I wanted to do was cry. I expect that will happen a few more times in the following months as well.
I apologize, I feel like this blog is a jumble of nonsense. But that’s kind of what is going on inside me right now. I feel like a jumbled, confused, mess. You probably can’t see that by looking at me, but that is what’s going on underneath my smiles and, “Peru was great thanks, I loved it, I had such a good growing experience,” more smiles and nods.
The day after getting home (yes I did finally make it home after spending 24 hours in Lima, a few of which were wonderfully spent with Rachel, Steph, and Chris) I dove head first into pre-wedding activities. No, not my wedding, Alli and Albert Handal’s wedding. The whole week was a blur of shopping, bridal parties, and hair and make-up. It was a beautiful wedding, and I’m glad I made it back in time. For a little bit there, I thought I might be stuck in Lima until my teeth fell out.
But now, wedding excitement is over (at least until the next 2…. or 20) and I now have time to reflect on my time in Peru, and how it has affected me. At first it seemed as though I have returned the same as I was before I left. But now and then I start to see glimpses of things that have changed within me, perspectives that have changed. Also, I don’t know if I’m just trying to adjust to being around so many people or if this is a part of the Jenessa I’m having to get used to, but lately I’ve felt more of the “I” of the Myers Briggs pushing the “E” out of the way. Not totally, but they seem to be sharing the space a little more. I think it’s just a temporary thing as I am trying to adjust to being back home.
They say that culture shock is often times worse coming back from than going to another country. I think it’s because when you go to another country you expect things to be different than home. You expect the food to be different, the language to be different, and the people to be different. I think when you return home, you have changed a little and you expect the things at home to have changed with you, but that’s often not the case. Or maybe you expect things to be the same but everyone else has continued through life without you.
I’d have to say my biggest shock hasn’t been the super shopping centers, or the hundreds of cars instead of motorcycles on the road, or that everyone speaks English instead of Castellano, or that there are whole aisles of toothpaste instead of one small shelf. While all of those things have taken a little bit of adjustment, I think what I have been struggling with the most is taking the Pre-Missionary Jenessa and the Post Missionary Jenessa and meshing the two together. I struggle with which way of thinking is “correct.” I struggle with not saying, “this is how we did it when I was in Peru,” or “when I was in Peru…” Adjusting is……hard. There have been a couple times when all I wanted to do was cry. I expect that will happen a few more times in the following months as well.
I apologize, I feel like this blog is a jumble of nonsense. But that’s kind of what is going on inside me right now. I feel like a jumbled, confused, mess. You probably can’t see that by looking at me, but that is what’s going on underneath my smiles and, “Peru was great thanks, I loved it, I had such a good growing experience,” more smiles and nods.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Chau Peru.....Just Kidding!
Sunday, May 1, 2:06 am
It was supposed to be my last day in Peru on Friday. However, I missed my flight out of Pucallpa. For several reasons in which I don’t want to go into any detail. Fortunately, I have a very generous and forgiving father who was able to get me another flight out on Saturday (24 hours later).
My flight was scheduled to leave Pucallpa at 9:55 pm on Saturday night (yesterday). I made sure that I was quite early this time to check in and make my flight out of Pucallpa. I arrived at the airport at five minutes before eight o’clock. I stood in line. After trying to keep an old man from pushing his way in front of me in line, I stepped up to the check in counter and placed my bags on the balancia. The check in lady then informed me that instead of being able to have two 50 pound bags I was only allowed 50 pounds in total. I had two bags, one suitcase and my backpack. The two combined totaled 13 kilos overweight. I then proceeded to open up my suitcase and take out what weighed the most. I also got rid of a few more clothes to give away. I’d already given away 80% of my clothes. This was ridiculous, I was able to get to Pucallpa with 2, 50 lb bags when I came both times. AND I would still be carrying nearly all of that weight, the only difference was that 13 kilos would be with me in the passenger section and the rest would be down below
With everything rearranged I placed the bags back on the scale. My suitcase was super light, I really had nothing in it but a few clothes. I was still ticked off by the rule that was sprung on me.
Everything was checked in, and the lady told me to go through security by 9:30. It was now 8:15. Steph, Rach, Anthony, Ever, and I decided to wait upstairs for a little while and have our last hangout time together in Peru. We played with photobooth and were in the midst of making a little video when the power went out. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that on the way to the airport there was a pretty crazy lightning storm going on. Great. This was not a good sign. If the lightning storm continued I wouldn’t be able to leave Pucallpa.
The power was out for about 10 or 15 minutes before the generator kicked in. by this time it was 9:10 pm. I decided to make my way downstairs to go through security, which, by the way is a complete joke. I made it through with my pretty sick looking pocket knife. I didn’t even realize it was there until after security. Apparently they missed it as well, or didn’t care.
I said my goodbyes to my small group of friends. They left, and I promptly got teary-eyed. I boarded the plane, sat down and then the tears really started flowing. It hit me that I was really leaving. And while I was happy to get back home to see my family and friends, I was triste to be saying goodbye to the place I had called home for the last 8 months. I bawled until the lady next to me asked if I knew if the flight was completely booked. I turned to her teary-eyed, apologized for my puffy, tear-stained face, and told her I didn’t know. We then started a friendly conversation for the next hour, in which she talked the majority of the time. She and her daughter were on their way to Lima to see the Hannah Montana concert in Lima the next day. Our conversation moved from why I was in Peru to what it’s like in the US, to what the average age of getting married in the US is, to why kids marry so young in the selva, to disciplining children, to her lancha building company. She showed me several of her pictures of her lanchas, her kids, her coworkers, and her family, all on her fancy Canon or Nikon, I never did figure out what it was. We talked about where her lanchas travel to, and how Iquitos is a party city, where they constantly have music playing, so much so that you start dancing as soon as you get off the plane in Iquitos.
We chatted about a few more things before she gave me her card. She told me to call her the next time I was in Pucallpa and asked me to take her to my church when I visited. Just before we landed she asked if we could take a picture together so she could add a few more interesting things to her camera to show to the next stranger with willing eyes and ears.
I was supposed to get to Lima at 11:05 pm. But because of the weather I didn’t get into the tarmac until 11:25 pm. I still had to ride a stupid tram to get to baggage claim, I then had to wait at the conveyor belt for my luggage because they didn’t transfer it directly onto the plane. It was 12:00 am by the time I got my luggage. I ran with my stuff towards the Delta check in. My flight was suppose to be leaving at 12:45 am. As I came into the foyer where I was suppose to check in, I heard the announcement over the intercom that Delta flight to Atlanta was leaving. There was no one at the Delta desk. NOT ONE PERSON! I panicked and found the first uniformed person I could find. I explained my situation in panicked Spanish, he told me that everyone had left and the flight was closed. He then told me to go upstairs to the Delta office to see what they could do for me. I ran to the elevator, pushed the button a million times and waited for what seemed like hours for the door to open. I then rushed to the Delta office. And to my luck, no one was there. Apparently they all decided to leave for the weekend. I ran back downstairs to try to find help elsewhere.
A LAN worker told me to go to the Tripulaciones desk to explain my situation. I waited at a check in desk for 30 minutes before someone decided to “help” me. Teary-eyed and super frustrated I told the guy that his airline and the weather had made me miss my connection and asked what he could do for me. He told me that he could do nothing, he said it wasn’t their fault because the delay had been caused by the weather. I about broke down right there in front of all the LAN workers. My dad called me then, we had been communicating through texts the whole time. He was on hold with Delta. I decided there was nothing more I could do but wait, in Starbucks.
So here I am. It’s 3:00 am Peruvian coastal time and it looks as though I will be staying here until who knows when. Delta didn’t think it was their responsibility to put me up in a hotel or accommodate me in anyway, except for not charge my dad for the change in flight. So, I’m here in Lima until my flight leaves at one-twenty-something on Monday morning. I still don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll try to get ahold of Chris Clouzet to see what he’s up to. If that doesn’t work out, Steph and Rach are flying in tomorrow afternoon at 12:30. What a crappy mess this has all turned out to be. I was hoping to be on a flight and arriving in Atlanta in 4 hours, writing a sentimental blog about what I miss/will miss about Peru. But, that wasn’t in God’s plan and I can’t say I understand why I’m in this situation. Maybe I never will. All I can do now is wait, which I have been trained very well for in the last 8 months. I’m too frustrated to cry, too tired to think, and too upset to laugh at this situation. Also, the American girl across the way from me is talking non-stop about how much she knows about traveling, South America, and life. It’s getting obnoxious, but maybe it’ll be a blessing in that her talking will keep me up for the next eternity of waiting. Also, maybe she’ll agree to watch my bags when I have to pee. Luckily Starbucks has a good selection of music to keep me awake as well. Ok, now I’m just rambling. I’m sure I’ll have some good stories to tell after this. Until then…..
It was supposed to be my last day in Peru on Friday. However, I missed my flight out of Pucallpa. For several reasons in which I don’t want to go into any detail. Fortunately, I have a very generous and forgiving father who was able to get me another flight out on Saturday (24 hours later).
My flight was scheduled to leave Pucallpa at 9:55 pm on Saturday night (yesterday). I made sure that I was quite early this time to check in and make my flight out of Pucallpa. I arrived at the airport at five minutes before eight o’clock. I stood in line. After trying to keep an old man from pushing his way in front of me in line, I stepped up to the check in counter and placed my bags on the balancia. The check in lady then informed me that instead of being able to have two 50 pound bags I was only allowed 50 pounds in total. I had two bags, one suitcase and my backpack. The two combined totaled 13 kilos overweight. I then proceeded to open up my suitcase and take out what weighed the most. I also got rid of a few more clothes to give away. I’d already given away 80% of my clothes. This was ridiculous, I was able to get to Pucallpa with 2, 50 lb bags when I came both times. AND I would still be carrying nearly all of that weight, the only difference was that 13 kilos would be with me in the passenger section and the rest would be down below
With everything rearranged I placed the bags back on the scale. My suitcase was super light, I really had nothing in it but a few clothes. I was still ticked off by the rule that was sprung on me.
Everything was checked in, and the lady told me to go through security by 9:30. It was now 8:15. Steph, Rach, Anthony, Ever, and I decided to wait upstairs for a little while and have our last hangout time together in Peru. We played with photobooth and were in the midst of making a little video when the power went out. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that on the way to the airport there was a pretty crazy lightning storm going on. Great. This was not a good sign. If the lightning storm continued I wouldn’t be able to leave Pucallpa.
The power was out for about 10 or 15 minutes before the generator kicked in. by this time it was 9:10 pm. I decided to make my way downstairs to go through security, which, by the way is a complete joke. I made it through with my pretty sick looking pocket knife. I didn’t even realize it was there until after security. Apparently they missed it as well, or didn’t care.
I said my goodbyes to my small group of friends. They left, and I promptly got teary-eyed. I boarded the plane, sat down and then the tears really started flowing. It hit me that I was really leaving. And while I was happy to get back home to see my family and friends, I was triste to be saying goodbye to the place I had called home for the last 8 months. I bawled until the lady next to me asked if I knew if the flight was completely booked. I turned to her teary-eyed, apologized for my puffy, tear-stained face, and told her I didn’t know. We then started a friendly conversation for the next hour, in which she talked the majority of the time. She and her daughter were on their way to Lima to see the Hannah Montana concert in Lima the next day. Our conversation moved from why I was in Peru to what it’s like in the US, to what the average age of getting married in the US is, to why kids marry so young in the selva, to disciplining children, to her lancha building company. She showed me several of her pictures of her lanchas, her kids, her coworkers, and her family, all on her fancy Canon or Nikon, I never did figure out what it was. We talked about where her lanchas travel to, and how Iquitos is a party city, where they constantly have music playing, so much so that you start dancing as soon as you get off the plane in Iquitos.
We chatted about a few more things before she gave me her card. She told me to call her the next time I was in Pucallpa and asked me to take her to my church when I visited. Just before we landed she asked if we could take a picture together so she could add a few more interesting things to her camera to show to the next stranger with willing eyes and ears.
I was supposed to get to Lima at 11:05 pm. But because of the weather I didn’t get into the tarmac until 11:25 pm. I still had to ride a stupid tram to get to baggage claim, I then had to wait at the conveyor belt for my luggage because they didn’t transfer it directly onto the plane. It was 12:00 am by the time I got my luggage. I ran with my stuff towards the Delta check in. My flight was suppose to be leaving at 12:45 am. As I came into the foyer where I was suppose to check in, I heard the announcement over the intercom that Delta flight to Atlanta was leaving. There was no one at the Delta desk. NOT ONE PERSON! I panicked and found the first uniformed person I could find. I explained my situation in panicked Spanish, he told me that everyone had left and the flight was closed. He then told me to go upstairs to the Delta office to see what they could do for me. I ran to the elevator, pushed the button a million times and waited for what seemed like hours for the door to open. I then rushed to the Delta office. And to my luck, no one was there. Apparently they all decided to leave for the weekend. I ran back downstairs to try to find help elsewhere.
A LAN worker told me to go to the Tripulaciones desk to explain my situation. I waited at a check in desk for 30 minutes before someone decided to “help” me. Teary-eyed and super frustrated I told the guy that his airline and the weather had made me miss my connection and asked what he could do for me. He told me that he could do nothing, he said it wasn’t their fault because the delay had been caused by the weather. I about broke down right there in front of all the LAN workers. My dad called me then, we had been communicating through texts the whole time. He was on hold with Delta. I decided there was nothing more I could do but wait, in Starbucks.
So here I am. It’s 3:00 am Peruvian coastal time and it looks as though I will be staying here until who knows when. Delta didn’t think it was their responsibility to put me up in a hotel or accommodate me in anyway, except for not charge my dad for the change in flight. So, I’m here in Lima until my flight leaves at one-twenty-something on Monday morning. I still don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll try to get ahold of Chris Clouzet to see what he’s up to. If that doesn’t work out, Steph and Rach are flying in tomorrow afternoon at 12:30. What a crappy mess this has all turned out to be. I was hoping to be on a flight and arriving in Atlanta in 4 hours, writing a sentimental blog about what I miss/will miss about Peru. But, that wasn’t in God’s plan and I can’t say I understand why I’m in this situation. Maybe I never will. All I can do now is wait, which I have been trained very well for in the last 8 months. I’m too frustrated to cry, too tired to think, and too upset to laugh at this situation. Also, the American girl across the way from me is talking non-stop about how much she knows about traveling, South America, and life. It’s getting obnoxious, but maybe it’ll be a blessing in that her talking will keep me up for the next eternity of waiting. Also, maybe she’ll agree to watch my bags when I have to pee. Luckily Starbucks has a good selection of music to keep me awake as well. Ok, now I’m just rambling. I’m sure I’ll have some good stories to tell after this. Until then…..
Friday, April 29, 2011
Infection
April 24, 2011
During the clinic we didn’t have too many unusual episodes. Moslty the usual bichos meds, vitamins, the occasional cough, and maybe some UTIs. But nothing out of the ordinary. About mid-afternoon on Easter Sunday a little girl and her mother showed up in triage. The girl had a crutch and a bandage around her thigh. She had trouble walking and couldn’t sit in the triage chair because he leg wouldn’t bend. I conducted the usual triage and the mother informed me that the girl, Narita, had had an accident and wanted the Doc to look at her leg.
A few minutes later I went upstairs to deliver some triage papers to the Doc. I walked in to see Narita sitting on a cot in the Doc’s office. He was examining her leg. I set the papers down and stepped out of the room. But curiosity took hold of me and I decided to go back .Narita had stabilizers in her thigh. They had been placed a year earlier and had never been taken out. Narita had tenderness around the stabilizing nails and you could smell infection.
The Doc told her he was going to take them out and that he would put her under so she wouldn’t feel anything. She was crying from fear and a little pain. Rachel and I went in search to find IV materials and some meds. After several trips to the posta (town clinic) we were ready. By this time Jackson, a former missionary and current 4th year med student, arrived just in time to be the anesthesiologist. Narita was put under and the Doc started prying away. It looked pretty graphic as the bars moved back and forth through her leg. After some more prying he finally just grabbed both sides and pulled it out with his bare hands.
The stabilizers were out and the cleanup began. It was a little stressful because we were all afraid of infecting the bone. After a little while Narita came to and was smiling. She was a sweet girl. We finished just in time to watch the boys play soccer. It was almost as if the surgery hadn’t happened.
It was good to see the boys all playing together. It warmed my heart and also saddened me knowing this would be on of the last times I would watch them play altogether. Afterwards the girls wanted to play volleyball. I was literally dragged onto the court to play with them. I like playing for fun, but I’m not good enough to compete and I don’t like to play when people are too serious, because I know I´ll just frustrate them. Anyway, I played awfully and sure enough frustrated a person or two, I quickly switched out and spent the rest of the evening cheering from the sidelines.
During the clinic we didn’t have too many unusual episodes. Moslty the usual bichos meds, vitamins, the occasional cough, and maybe some UTIs. But nothing out of the ordinary. About mid-afternoon on Easter Sunday a little girl and her mother showed up in triage. The girl had a crutch and a bandage around her thigh. She had trouble walking and couldn’t sit in the triage chair because he leg wouldn’t bend. I conducted the usual triage and the mother informed me that the girl, Narita, had had an accident and wanted the Doc to look at her leg.
A few minutes later I went upstairs to deliver some triage papers to the Doc. I walked in to see Narita sitting on a cot in the Doc’s office. He was examining her leg. I set the papers down and stepped out of the room. But curiosity took hold of me and I decided to go back .Narita had stabilizers in her thigh. They had been placed a year earlier and had never been taken out. Narita had tenderness around the stabilizing nails and you could smell infection.
The Doc told her he was going to take them out and that he would put her under so she wouldn’t feel anything. She was crying from fear and a little pain. Rachel and I went in search to find IV materials and some meds. After several trips to the posta (town clinic) we were ready. By this time Jackson, a former missionary and current 4th year med student, arrived just in time to be the anesthesiologist. Narita was put under and the Doc started prying away. It looked pretty graphic as the bars moved back and forth through her leg. After some more prying he finally just grabbed both sides and pulled it out with his bare hands.
The stabilizers were out and the cleanup began. It was a little stressful because we were all afraid of infecting the bone. After a little while Narita came to and was smiling. She was a sweet girl. We finished just in time to watch the boys play soccer. It was almost as if the surgery hadn’t happened.
It was good to see the boys all playing together. It warmed my heart and also saddened me knowing this would be on of the last times I would watch them play altogether. Afterwards the girls wanted to play volleyball. I was literally dragged onto the court to play with them. I like playing for fun, but I’m not good enough to compete and I don’t like to play when people are too serious, because I know I´ll just frustrate them. Anyway, I played awfully and sure enough frustrated a person or two, I quickly switched out and spent the rest of the evening cheering from the sidelines.
Into the Wild
April 23, 2011
Saturday we decided that instead of going to Church, we would go on a hike in search of some aguas calientes and waterfalls. Since this would be the only chance for all of us to do something fun together.
We woke up early, loaded a boat and took a three hour tour in search of the waterfall. To get to this waterfall we had to boat into a tiny off-shoot of the river and then hike in about an hour over hilly terrain. It was a fun hike and the most exercise I’d had probably the whole time I’ve been here.
The hike was pretty and reminded me a lot of Indonesia, rain forest, green, lush. I saw a few of those bright glue butterflies that you usually only see in frames.
We reached our destination, a beautiful large waterfall surrounded by luscious nature. The water was quite warm-like bath water, and in some places like a Jacuzzi. I’d actually wished for cold water to cool off from the hike. But this was quite wonderful as well. When we arrived, half the group had hiked in a little ways further to where there was a small waterfall and wading pool.
We hiked back in and played for hours, enjoying the nature and each others’ company. We also found a slightly smaller waterfall that had cold water. It was a great bonding day and I wished we could have done something like that sooner.
The trip back to Inahuaya was longer because we were traveling up river. We stopped ion the way so the Doc could make a phone call. Meanwhile, the rest of us swam about in the river-it was really refreshing. I was a little nervous about piranhas biting my feet, but fortunately I didn’t feel any nibbling.
On the way back we had sundown worship on the boat and sang. It touched my heart to be altogether worshipping in nature. I almost cried, almost. But I had to save up my tears for my farewell to my Peruvian family.
Saturday we decided that instead of going to Church, we would go on a hike in search of some aguas calientes and waterfalls. Since this would be the only chance for all of us to do something fun together.
We woke up early, loaded a boat and took a three hour tour in search of the waterfall. To get to this waterfall we had to boat into a tiny off-shoot of the river and then hike in about an hour over hilly terrain. It was a fun hike and the most exercise I’d had probably the whole time I’ve been here.
The hike was pretty and reminded me a lot of Indonesia, rain forest, green, lush. I saw a few of those bright glue butterflies that you usually only see in frames.
We reached our destination, a beautiful large waterfall surrounded by luscious nature. The water was quite warm-like bath water, and in some places like a Jacuzzi. I’d actually wished for cold water to cool off from the hike. But this was quite wonderful as well. When we arrived, half the group had hiked in a little ways further to where there was a small waterfall and wading pool.
We hiked back in and played for hours, enjoying the nature and each others’ company. We also found a slightly smaller waterfall that had cold water. It was a great bonding day and I wished we could have done something like that sooner.
The trip back to Inahuaya was longer because we were traveling up river. We stopped ion the way so the Doc could make a phone call. Meanwhile, the rest of us swam about in the river-it was really refreshing. I was a little nervous about piranhas biting my feet, but fortunately I didn’t feel any nibbling.
On the way back we had sundown worship on the boat and sang. It touched my heart to be altogether worshipping in nature. I almost cried, almost. But I had to save up my tears for my farewell to my Peruvian family.
Peruvian Eutopia
April 22, 2011
We arrived in Inahuaya about 10:30 that morning after sleeping another night on the lancha at port. The Doctor had arranged for a smaller boat to come pick us up from Contamana, the port where we had slept at. As we pulled into the dock at Inahuaya it looked like a quaint little town. Thatched roof huts greeted us as we unloaded our stuff. The Doc showed up as we were taking bags off the boat, we hadn’t seen him for awhile and quite frankly were frustrated with his lack of organization and communication at the beginning of this trip.
With all our belongings strapped onto motokars we were whisked away to the municipal building. The town was really cute. The road was basically a slightly wide sidewalk, but the town was quite clean and organized. A few minutes later we were all gathered in the municipal building to waiting to be given our next instructions. We were told that we needed to meet at the food house for lunch at 12:00 after settling into our hostels and showering. Then we would be starting clinic. By the time we gathered our stuff and arrived at our hostels it was 11:50 am. 10 minutes to settle and shower.
Lunch was tasty, unfortunately I couldn’t eat much because I was still suffering from whatever parasites decided to camp out in my stomach and intestines. With everyones tummies full we made our way to set up clinic. The municipal building was really nice. Tile floors, concrete walls, windows, a second story. It was quite impressive. I was beginning to like the town more and more. And what’s more, when we started registration and triage, people were clawing and yelling and trying to get their names on the list. They patiently waited in line. They never complained or asked why they had to wait for the person ahead of them to finish triage. It was beautiful. I officially decided I loved the town.
We arrived in Inahuaya about 10:30 that morning after sleeping another night on the lancha at port. The Doctor had arranged for a smaller boat to come pick us up from Contamana, the port where we had slept at. As we pulled into the dock at Inahuaya it looked like a quaint little town. Thatched roof huts greeted us as we unloaded our stuff. The Doc showed up as we were taking bags off the boat, we hadn’t seen him for awhile and quite frankly were frustrated with his lack of organization and communication at the beginning of this trip.
With all our belongings strapped onto motokars we were whisked away to the municipal building. The town was really cute. The road was basically a slightly wide sidewalk, but the town was quite clean and organized. A few minutes later we were all gathered in the municipal building to waiting to be given our next instructions. We were told that we needed to meet at the food house for lunch at 12:00 after settling into our hostels and showering. Then we would be starting clinic. By the time we gathered our stuff and arrived at our hostels it was 11:50 am. 10 minutes to settle and shower.
Lunch was tasty, unfortunately I couldn’t eat much because I was still suffering from whatever parasites decided to camp out in my stomach and intestines. With everyones tummies full we made our way to set up clinic. The municipal building was really nice. Tile floors, concrete walls, windows, a second story. It was quite impressive. I was beginning to like the town more and more. And what’s more, when we started registration and triage, people were clawing and yelling and trying to get their names on the list. They patiently waited in line. They never complained or asked why they had to wait for the person ahead of them to finish triage. It was beautiful. I officially decided I loved the town.
10 Hours and Counting
April 21, 2011
Ten hours in the same place on this lancha. This whole trip has been ridiculous. We were supposed to leave on Sunday, today is Thursday. We decided in a meeting a week earlier that we would be leaving Sunday the 17th. That turned into Monday, which turned into Tuesday in which we had a flat tire on the way to the port, the boat then decided it wasn’t going to leave. Tuesday then turned into Wednesday evening at 8 o’clock.
With all of our stuff loaded into the cargo boat, we were off to Inahuaya, a little town upriver that is home to three of our Peruvian boys. The SM’s, Wendy and Cecilia all played 7-up until the boat captain came and asked us for our names, nationality, and passport numbers, the latter of which we all made up because we didn’t have our passports with us. Oh, Peru, I love it.
We played until the cook kicked us off the table. We all decided it would be a good time to get settled and go to bed. We made our way downstairs into the crowded cargo area. Actually, crowded would be putting it mildly. Every inch of space was filled with food items being imported to the smaller river towns, smelly chickens, or bodies. It made for a pleasant smell. Even the air space was filled with hammocks strung up so close you could feel the person next to you breathing. My place of “rest” was wedged under Rachel and Rebecca and next to some guy I didn’t know. His feet lay conveniently six inches from my face. I wrapped my hammock around myself and tried to get comfy.
At 12:30 AM I was awakened to my hammock swinging wildly back and forth and mothers screaming. The engine was revving quite loudly. We were stuck on a sand bank. Great. Apparently being stuck on a sand bank can be dangerous, there is a chance that the boat could tip over. In my groggy state I prayed that we would get unstuck soon and that I wouldn’t wake up swimming in the Ucayali river.
I awoke at 6:00 am to an aroma mixture of body odor, wet chickens, and warm soggy onions. Probably the worst combination in the world. I felt nauseous, but there was no way I was getting out of my hammock and to the edge of the boat soon. So I thought happy thoughts and suppressed the nauseous feeling. With that abated, we sat a waited to get off the sandbank. It was getting quite hot and stuffy because of the lack of airflow. We passed the time by reading, chatting, and snacking. Oh, did I mention that throughout all of this I was fighting some bicho in my stomach. I had gurgly gut the whole time and was praying that the war going on in my stomach wouldn’t decide to retreat out the exit.
It was starting to get rough about hour 7 on the boat. One lady tried to start a revolt. “People, we need to get off this boat. Children are starving. We need to rally anyone we know who lives on the river with a small boat to come and take the women and children out of here. Who is with me? Everyone to the front of the boat!” It was comical.
Finally, about 11:00 am on the 21st, we found a way out of the sand bank after trying to hail down various other boats. Everyone let out a hoot and holler and shout of rejoicing over our freedom. I felt like music should be playing and people should be crying and hugging each other. But the rejoicing only lasted a minute and then we were on our way.
So, here I am now, hanging out in my hammock, Steph is next to me working on her dreads, a parrot is overhead. Every now and then he squawks out an, “hola,” or, “corre corre corre,” on rare occasions a, “papi, ven!” It’s cute, and the parrot is pretty.
A breeze blows as long as we’re moving and the green luscious jungles slowly pass as we make our way down the river to Inahuaya. I pray that despite all the craziness we’ve gone through to getting here, God will still work through us. We’ll see where he leads.
Ten hours in the same place on this lancha. This whole trip has been ridiculous. We were supposed to leave on Sunday, today is Thursday. We decided in a meeting a week earlier that we would be leaving Sunday the 17th. That turned into Monday, which turned into Tuesday in which we had a flat tire on the way to the port, the boat then decided it wasn’t going to leave. Tuesday then turned into Wednesday evening at 8 o’clock.
With all of our stuff loaded into the cargo boat, we were off to Inahuaya, a little town upriver that is home to three of our Peruvian boys. The SM’s, Wendy and Cecilia all played 7-up until the boat captain came and asked us for our names, nationality, and passport numbers, the latter of which we all made up because we didn’t have our passports with us. Oh, Peru, I love it.
We played until the cook kicked us off the table. We all decided it would be a good time to get settled and go to bed. We made our way downstairs into the crowded cargo area. Actually, crowded would be putting it mildly. Every inch of space was filled with food items being imported to the smaller river towns, smelly chickens, or bodies. It made for a pleasant smell. Even the air space was filled with hammocks strung up so close you could feel the person next to you breathing. My place of “rest” was wedged under Rachel and Rebecca and next to some guy I didn’t know. His feet lay conveniently six inches from my face. I wrapped my hammock around myself and tried to get comfy.
At 12:30 AM I was awakened to my hammock swinging wildly back and forth and mothers screaming. The engine was revving quite loudly. We were stuck on a sand bank. Great. Apparently being stuck on a sand bank can be dangerous, there is a chance that the boat could tip over. In my groggy state I prayed that we would get unstuck soon and that I wouldn’t wake up swimming in the Ucayali river.
I awoke at 6:00 am to an aroma mixture of body odor, wet chickens, and warm soggy onions. Probably the worst combination in the world. I felt nauseous, but there was no way I was getting out of my hammock and to the edge of the boat soon. So I thought happy thoughts and suppressed the nauseous feeling. With that abated, we sat a waited to get off the sandbank. It was getting quite hot and stuffy because of the lack of airflow. We passed the time by reading, chatting, and snacking. Oh, did I mention that throughout all of this I was fighting some bicho in my stomach. I had gurgly gut the whole time and was praying that the war going on in my stomach wouldn’t decide to retreat out the exit.
It was starting to get rough about hour 7 on the boat. One lady tried to start a revolt. “People, we need to get off this boat. Children are starving. We need to rally anyone we know who lives on the river with a small boat to come and take the women and children out of here. Who is with me? Everyone to the front of the boat!” It was comical.
Finally, about 11:00 am on the 21st, we found a way out of the sand bank after trying to hail down various other boats. Everyone let out a hoot and holler and shout of rejoicing over our freedom. I felt like music should be playing and people should be crying and hugging each other. But the rejoicing only lasted a minute and then we were on our way.
So, here I am now, hanging out in my hammock, Steph is next to me working on her dreads, a parrot is overhead. Every now and then he squawks out an, “hola,” or, “corre corre corre,” on rare occasions a, “papi, ven!” It’s cute, and the parrot is pretty.
A breeze blows as long as we’re moving and the green luscious jungles slowly pass as we make our way down the river to Inahuaya. I pray that despite all the craziness we’ve gone through to getting here, God will still work through us. We’ll see where he leads.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
To Do: organize/clean/pack/donate/throw out all of my stuff!
It was decided yesterday that we will be having one more campaign as a big hoorah to finish out this SM year. This threw me for a jolt as I am now forced to start packing away my life this week.
I was planning on putting off my goodbyes and consolidating until the last week of April, but I don´t really have that option anymore seeing as we will be leaving this Sunday and returning the 27th (two days before I head out). I started to tear up as I realized that this is my last week teaching, this Sabbath is my last Sabbath at my church, Sunday was the last time I will have shopped for food for the week….ugh, I hate ¨lasts.¨
A lot can happen in a week, as I have discovered since being down here. So I will save my reflections on the year for another day as well as updates on this trip, which will be up the river by the way. So please, please, continue to keep all of us in your prayers. Until then.
I was planning on putting off my goodbyes and consolidating until the last week of April, but I don´t really have that option anymore seeing as we will be leaving this Sunday and returning the 27th (two days before I head out). I started to tear up as I realized that this is my last week teaching, this Sabbath is my last Sabbath at my church, Sunday was the last time I will have shopped for food for the week….ugh, I hate ¨lasts.¨
A lot can happen in a week, as I have discovered since being down here. So I will save my reflections on the year for another day as well as updates on this trip, which will be up the river by the way. So please, please, continue to keep all of us in your prayers. Until then.
Oh life, you stump me sometimes
Tried to post this over a week ago.
As I sat in the new house at Km 8 watching birds soar gracefully in the cloud-filled sky, I thought about my life here in Peru over the last few months. The girls and I had been chatting about how glad we were to have made the decision to spend a part of our life here in Peru. Sure, there have been some downright cruddy times here. I´ve had a few times of tears, but amidst it all I´ve come to love this place.
I was discussing life here in Peru with Stephanie and decided the reason I love it so much is because here I live day-to-day. I´m not always bombarded by the future. At the moment I can´t decided if that´s truly a good thing or not. Do I love it here so much because I don’t feel pressured to quickly make crucial decisions about my life? Or is there something falta in the way I was living my life back at home? Am I worrying too much about my future and not being grateful for each day as I should?
My Christian upbringing says I “shouldn’t worry about tomorrow.” But practicality and society tell me that I have to have a plan, I have to know what´s coming up next in my future. Which voice do I listen to? Or should it be a combination?
I still haven´t come up with an answer. Although I’m afraid I know what will happen when I return home. I´ll get back into the routine of life before Peru. My future will stress me out, and I´ll wish I was back in Peru once again. Is that normal? Is that ok? Who´s to say? At this point I would much rather give it all to God. I really like not worrying about tomorrow.
Before coming here I was always the girl who had to have a plan. I always had to know what was coming next. I wanted to know each individual step along the road of my life. I wasn’t content just letting God lead. Yes, I ultimately wanted His plan for my life, but only as long as I had a significant say in the matter. It was always, “Ok God, I’ll take the lead on this one, and if you have any good suggestions just pass them my way. Or better yet, I’ll give you a call if I get hung up on something. Thanks.”
Now, I feel as though I’m just starting to realize how relieving it is to just allow God to lead. And you know, He has already worked some things out in my immediate future without my having to stress about it.
I’ve learned a lot in these last several months. But even if I were only brought here to come to this realization in my life I will still be a happy girl.
As I sat in the new house at Km 8 watching birds soar gracefully in the cloud-filled sky, I thought about my life here in Peru over the last few months. The girls and I had been chatting about how glad we were to have made the decision to spend a part of our life here in Peru. Sure, there have been some downright cruddy times here. I´ve had a few times of tears, but amidst it all I´ve come to love this place.
I was discussing life here in Peru with Stephanie and decided the reason I love it so much is because here I live day-to-day. I´m not always bombarded by the future. At the moment I can´t decided if that´s truly a good thing or not. Do I love it here so much because I don’t feel pressured to quickly make crucial decisions about my life? Or is there something falta in the way I was living my life back at home? Am I worrying too much about my future and not being grateful for each day as I should?
My Christian upbringing says I “shouldn’t worry about tomorrow.” But practicality and society tell me that I have to have a plan, I have to know what´s coming up next in my future. Which voice do I listen to? Or should it be a combination?
I still haven´t come up with an answer. Although I’m afraid I know what will happen when I return home. I´ll get back into the routine of life before Peru. My future will stress me out, and I´ll wish I was back in Peru once again. Is that normal? Is that ok? Who´s to say? At this point I would much rather give it all to God. I really like not worrying about tomorrow.
Before coming here I was always the girl who had to have a plan. I always had to know what was coming next. I wanted to know each individual step along the road of my life. I wasn’t content just letting God lead. Yes, I ultimately wanted His plan for my life, but only as long as I had a significant say in the matter. It was always, “Ok God, I’ll take the lead on this one, and if you have any good suggestions just pass them my way. Or better yet, I’ll give you a call if I get hung up on something. Thanks.”
Now, I feel as though I’m just starting to realize how relieving it is to just allow God to lead. And you know, He has already worked some things out in my immediate future without my having to stress about it.
I’ve learned a lot in these last several months. But even if I were only brought here to come to this realization in my life I will still be a happy girl.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Oh life, sometimes you stump me.
As I sat in the new house at Km 8 watching birds soar gracefully in the cloud-filled sky, I thought about my life here in Peru over the last few months. The girls and I had been chatting about how glad we were to have made the decision to spend a part of our life here in Peru. Sure, there have been some downright cruddy times here. I´ve had a few times of tears, but amidst it all I´ve come to love this place.
I was discussing life here in Peru with Stephanie and decided the reason I love it so much is because here I live day-to-day. I´m not always bombarded by the future. At the moment I can´t decided if that´s truly a good thing or not. Do I love it here so much because I don’t feel pressured to quickly make crucial decisions about my life? Or is there something falta in the way I was living my life back at home? Am I worrying too much about my future and not being grateful for each day as I should?
My Christian upbringing says I “shouldn’t worry about tomorrow.” But practicality and society tell me that I have to have a plan, I have to know what´s coming up next in my future. Which voice do I listen to? Or should it be a combination?
I still haven´t come up with an answer. Although I’m afraid I know what will happen when I return home. I´ll get back into the routine of life before Peru. My future will stress me out, and I´ll wish I was back in Peru once again. Is that normal? Is that ok? Who´s to say? At this point I would much rather give it all to God. I really like not worrying about tomorrow.
Before coming here I was always the girl who had to have a plan. I always had to know what was coming next. I wanted to know each individual step along the road of my life. I wasn’t content just letting God lead. Yes, I ultimately wanted His plan for my life, but only as long as I had a significant say in the matter. It was always, “Ok God, I’ll take the lead on this one, and if you have any good suggestions just pass them my way. Or better yet, I’ll give you a call if I get hung up on something. Thanks.”
Now, I feel as though I’m just starting to realize how relieving it is to just allow God to lead. And you know, He has already worked some things out in my immediate future without my having to stress about it.
I’ve learned a lot in these last several months. But even if I were only brought here to come to this realization in my life I will still be a happy girl.
I was discussing life here in Peru with Stephanie and decided the reason I love it so much is because here I live day-to-day. I´m not always bombarded by the future. At the moment I can´t decided if that´s truly a good thing or not. Do I love it here so much because I don’t feel pressured to quickly make crucial decisions about my life? Or is there something falta in the way I was living my life back at home? Am I worrying too much about my future and not being grateful for each day as I should?
My Christian upbringing says I “shouldn’t worry about tomorrow.” But practicality and society tell me that I have to have a plan, I have to know what´s coming up next in my future. Which voice do I listen to? Or should it be a combination?
I still haven´t come up with an answer. Although I’m afraid I know what will happen when I return home. I´ll get back into the routine of life before Peru. My future will stress me out, and I´ll wish I was back in Peru once again. Is that normal? Is that ok? Who´s to say? At this point I would much rather give it all to God. I really like not worrying about tomorrow.
Before coming here I was always the girl who had to have a plan. I always had to know what was coming next. I wanted to know each individual step along the road of my life. I wasn’t content just letting God lead. Yes, I ultimately wanted His plan for my life, but only as long as I had a significant say in the matter. It was always, “Ok God, I’ll take the lead on this one, and if you have any good suggestions just pass them my way. Or better yet, I’ll give you a call if I get hung up on something. Thanks.”
Now, I feel as though I’m just starting to realize how relieving it is to just allow God to lead. And you know, He has already worked some things out in my immediate future without my having to stress about it.
I’ve learned a lot in these last several months. But even if I were only brought here to come to this realization in my life I will still be a happy girl.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Jet Lee
Well, it was good times all around the last week and a half. Two Saturdays ago mi hermano came for a little visit. It was so good to have him here. I gave him a tour of the house, which took all of 5 minutes, and showed him how I live life down here. I liked saying, ¨El es mi hermano, esta visitando me.¨ It was great.
Keith was put to work while here though. I did give him some warning ahead of time (what a nice sister I am). He did some shoveling, some wheelbarrow carrying, some hammering, and sludging through mudd-ying. I just really love that when I reference things, I know that he´ll know what or who or where I´m talking about.Just that knowledge makes a difference.
Unfortunately, my brothers time here was short.Only a week, bummer. But it was a fabulous week. I think he even learned some Spanish (one of the guys befriended Keith and made him speak Spanish).
In other news. I started teaching again this semester. The kids have been on their summer vacation for the past two months. I didn´t realize until Monday how much I had missed my kids. It was also a little sad because some of my students had moved on to middle school. So now I have new students, and new names to learn.
Speaking of new names. On Monday, we had our first class of the semester with the little 1st and 2nd graders. We played a name game to get to know the kids in our class. We all sat in a circle with one less chair than people. I had them stand up, say their name and something they liked to do. If anyone else like the same thing they had to get up and switch chairs. The person left without a chair would do the same thing.
A girl named Rita got up, introduced herself and something she liked. Cool! A girl with the same name as my mom. I can remember that. Next came Sander, he needed a little more prompting. Cute kid though. Then Carlos, the crazy teacher´s son. You´d think he´d be a little more behaved, or maybe not. He yelled his name and dove for a chair before the next kid could leave it. Then Angi, she was in my class last semester, cutest little girl ever and smart too. A few more kids got up, and we were left with one more. The little guy stood up, and said his name. At first I thought I´d heard wrong. ¨Say your name again.¨ ¨Jetli,¨(pronounced Jet Lee). I thought he was pulling my leg, I unsuccessfully suppressed a laugh and asked again. This time a few other kids repeated his name for me. This time I knew. It was too good to be true. I have a kid in my class named Jetli. I turned to Rebecca, chuckled and declared how awesome I thought that was.
Jetli and the rest of the kids had a good time learning some English, and making paper airplanes the rest of the morning. I love these kids. Everyday I keep thinking about how much I´m going to miss them when I have to leave in two months. I will cry. It´s for certain. Until then, I just get to have some fun, teach them English, and hang out with Jetli.
Keith was put to work while here though. I did give him some warning ahead of time (what a nice sister I am). He did some shoveling, some wheelbarrow carrying, some hammering, and sludging through mudd-ying. I just really love that when I reference things, I know that he´ll know what or who or where I´m talking about.Just that knowledge makes a difference.
Unfortunately, my brothers time here was short.Only a week, bummer. But it was a fabulous week. I think he even learned some Spanish (one of the guys befriended Keith and made him speak Spanish).
In other news. I started teaching again this semester. The kids have been on their summer vacation for the past two months. I didn´t realize until Monday how much I had missed my kids. It was also a little sad because some of my students had moved on to middle school. So now I have new students, and new names to learn.
Speaking of new names. On Monday, we had our first class of the semester with the little 1st and 2nd graders. We played a name game to get to know the kids in our class. We all sat in a circle with one less chair than people. I had them stand up, say their name and something they liked to do. If anyone else like the same thing they had to get up and switch chairs. The person left without a chair would do the same thing.
A girl named Rita got up, introduced herself and something she liked. Cool! A girl with the same name as my mom. I can remember that. Next came Sander, he needed a little more prompting. Cute kid though. Then Carlos, the crazy teacher´s son. You´d think he´d be a little more behaved, or maybe not. He yelled his name and dove for a chair before the next kid could leave it. Then Angi, she was in my class last semester, cutest little girl ever and smart too. A few more kids got up, and we were left with one more. The little guy stood up, and said his name. At first I thought I´d heard wrong. ¨Say your name again.¨ ¨Jetli,¨(pronounced Jet Lee). I thought he was pulling my leg, I unsuccessfully suppressed a laugh and asked again. This time a few other kids repeated his name for me. This time I knew. It was too good to be true. I have a kid in my class named Jetli. I turned to Rebecca, chuckled and declared how awesome I thought that was.
Jetli and the rest of the kids had a good time learning some English, and making paper airplanes the rest of the morning. I love these kids. Everyday I keep thinking about how much I´m going to miss them when I have to leave in two months. I will cry. It´s for certain. Until then, I just get to have some fun, teach them English, and hang out with Jetli.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
There´s a Badge for That
It´s rainy yet again. This time I´m prepared for it. I´m wearing my rain jacket/trench coat, quick dry pants, and rain boots. I look pretty ridiculous trudging around Pucallpa, especially with my bag under my jacket. I´m something similar to the Hunchback of Notre Dame. But, you know, I could care less what I look like, I´m dry. I mentioned something to Rebecca about how I wondered if I would be as carefree when I return home. I really hope so. I like not wearing any makeup, mismatched clothes, and (ok, some of you may barf, and it´s taking me some courage to say this publically) not shaving my legs everyday. Ok, go ahead, barf, do whatever you need to do to get that picture out of your mind. But seriously, I like this new part of me, being carefree. Yeah, so I´ll probably return to shaving my legs regularly when I get home, it´s a cultural thing, and I really don´t like it when people vomit.
Since being here I have started a Pathfinder program. Think I´ve mentioned that once or twice before. I´m looking up activities to do with the kids. Looking through the Pathfinder honors manual online is very interesting, and slightly entertaining. Who knew you could receive a little badge for so many things. Here are some of my favorites:
Aboriginal Lore
Life saving
Tree Climbing
Unicycling
Laundering
Cattle Husbandry (like Temple Grandin!)
Pigeon Raising
Small Fruit Growing
Antelopes
Think we´ll just go with kite making this time.
Since being here I have started a Pathfinder program. Think I´ve mentioned that once or twice before. I´m looking up activities to do with the kids. Looking through the Pathfinder honors manual online is very interesting, and slightly entertaining. Who knew you could receive a little badge for so many things. Here are some of my favorites:
Aboriginal Lore
Life saving
Tree Climbing
Unicycling
Laundering
Cattle Husbandry (like Temple Grandin!)
Pigeon Raising
Small Fruit Growing
Antelopes
Think we´ll just go with kite making this time.
What´s Next?
February 22, 2011 (oops, out of order)
I stupidly drank a cup of black tea at ten o’clock this evening. Which means two things: multiple trips to the bathroom and no near signs of exhaustion. Ugh. Like I said, dumb decision. It’s a nice evening though, chilly (which prompted my poor decision). My toes are hidden beneath socks and wedged between flip flops—a style I’ve never been very fond of back home, but don’t seem to care too much about down here.
In the 6 months of being in Peru, I’ve noticed that things that used to bother me at home, don’t bother me here.
This realization hit me today as I was preparing lunch in the kitchen and several cockroaches came out to see what was cooking. I have been involved with a few mission trips, two of which involved cleaning houses infested with roaches. Whilst cleaning I thought to myself, “how can these people live like this? I could never live with roaches.” But I’m currently living in nearly the same situation. I’m choosing to live in a house infested with roaches. Spiders sleep, eat, and poop in my house and sometimes on me, and I am constantly sweeping out dirt from my floors. And yet, I don’t seem to be too bothered by it. Maybe I’m just desensitized. I think I see it as a lost cause. Unless this house burns down, we will never be rid of roaches.
I will refrain from sharing a few examples of things I previously had no qualms over for fear of disgusting others and losing friends of the male and female gender.
Now, rather the opposite. I’ve also noticed things that didn’t bother me at home bother me here. For example, evangelism. I’ve attended evangelistic series in the past. I’ve also preached in one. But I never really cared what happened after the meetings. I never put much thought into those who were baptized or what happened to them afterwards. But I care about those things here. I’m not in accordance with the way evangelism has been done here in the past. I don’t agree with the way we have held meetings, baptized a few people and said goodbye. Who will mentor them? Who will lead them? Who will teach them how to be a church family? What happens next? I’m still trying to discover what I can do to help the situation. I don’t want to be content with just seeing a problem but doing nothing to solve it. I don’t want to live life with the same mindset I have about my roach infested house—there’s no point in fixing it, in fact there’s no way to fix it, there will forever be roaches and there’s nothing I can do to solve it so I might as well give up. I’m not content, and I guess that’s a good thing.
Peru is changing me. I think I’ll go kill a roach.
I stupidly drank a cup of black tea at ten o’clock this evening. Which means two things: multiple trips to the bathroom and no near signs of exhaustion. Ugh. Like I said, dumb decision. It’s a nice evening though, chilly (which prompted my poor decision). My toes are hidden beneath socks and wedged between flip flops—a style I’ve never been very fond of back home, but don’t seem to care too much about down here.
In the 6 months of being in Peru, I’ve noticed that things that used to bother me at home, don’t bother me here.
This realization hit me today as I was preparing lunch in the kitchen and several cockroaches came out to see what was cooking. I have been involved with a few mission trips, two of which involved cleaning houses infested with roaches. Whilst cleaning I thought to myself, “how can these people live like this? I could never live with roaches.” But I’m currently living in nearly the same situation. I’m choosing to live in a house infested with roaches. Spiders sleep, eat, and poop in my house and sometimes on me, and I am constantly sweeping out dirt from my floors. And yet, I don’t seem to be too bothered by it. Maybe I’m just desensitized. I think I see it as a lost cause. Unless this house burns down, we will never be rid of roaches.
I will refrain from sharing a few examples of things I previously had no qualms over for fear of disgusting others and losing friends of the male and female gender.
Now, rather the opposite. I’ve also noticed things that didn’t bother me at home bother me here. For example, evangelism. I’ve attended evangelistic series in the past. I’ve also preached in one. But I never really cared what happened after the meetings. I never put much thought into those who were baptized or what happened to them afterwards. But I care about those things here. I’m not in accordance with the way evangelism has been done here in the past. I don’t agree with the way we have held meetings, baptized a few people and said goodbye. Who will mentor them? Who will lead them? Who will teach them how to be a church family? What happens next? I’m still trying to discover what I can do to help the situation. I don’t want to be content with just seeing a problem but doing nothing to solve it. I don’t want to live life with the same mindset I have about my roach infested house—there’s no point in fixing it, in fact there’s no way to fix it, there will forever be roaches and there’s nothing I can do to solve it so I might as well give up. I’m not content, and I guess that’s a good thing.
Peru is changing me. I think I’ll go kill a roach.
Cumpleaños feliz, cupleaños a ti.......
February 23, 2011
It’s exactly a week after my birthday. I’ve been 22 for 10 days now. The popular question when one becomes another year older is, “Do you feel older or wiser?” I lay in bed the morning of my birthday, which conveniently happened to be a Sunday, and waited to see if I felt....different. As few minutes passed and as with every birthday I’ve had, nothing seemed odd or special or...different. In fact this day felt more ordinary than any of my previous birthdays.
I had promised to take the kids to Campo Verde for a collective Church field day the Campo Verde church had organized. Several other Churches from the area were getting together to play volleyball and fútbol. As we sat in the sun baking and watching the games, I contemplated being a year older. Verbalizing my age to several curious kids made me feel old.
Now, I know that sounds ridiculous. Those of you who have surpassed the age of 22 are probably rolling your eyes at this moment. I still think that 22 is young, but I think the reason I’m starting to feel¨old¨is because all my friends have graduated, or will soon be graduating. Most of my closest friends are currently engaged and will soon be returning home to their spouses after work. Many of my friends have or will be starting real jobs. Real life, whatever that is, is just around the corner. My childhood is fading into the distance (yeah, yeah, a bit melodramatic).
Well, on to happier things. The evening of my birthday all of Km 38 gathered at our house for a delicious meal prepared by the girls; they wouldn’t let me into the kitchen. I think I’m becoming more and more like my mother; I couldn’t just sit and wait as they were cooking. I wanted to be in there stirring or chopping something. I was shooed out several times.
The party kicked off with Hanna and Sharon(not sure if that’s spelled correctly), Elias’s niece, came in with not one but two large, homemade, caramel glazed, sprinkle topped, delicious cake. My favorite part about one of the cakes was my name neatly spelled with gumdrops. It read: Llanesa (the double “l” makes the “ja” sound). Incorrectly spelled in more ways than one, but it was so cute, I absolutely loved it.
All of us piled our plates full of delicious birthday goodness. It has become a tradition amongst the SM’s to have tostadas on our birthday. We make homemade tortillas, pico de gallo, “bomb sauce” (made by Lauren), yummy beans, rice, and some sort of fajita style stuff. Muy rico! However, before I could take a bite of my food it happened. I felt it cold, wet, and slimy running down my head and onto my shoulders. I had been egged. It’s a tradition here in Peru, as well as many other Latin countries, to smash an egg atop the head of the birthday boy/girl. Usually it’s accompanied with flour; thankfully I only got the egg. Everyone let out their laughs and approving shouts. I quickly ran to the sink where I thoroughly washed my hair.
The egg washed out and a pair of clean clothes on I consumed the delicious plate of birthday goodness. With that first bite all was right in the world. We ate, talked, and then it was time for the cutting of the cake. I love the cake here, at least the type that was made for my birthday. It’s buttery and moist and not too sweet, perfect. I sat down to enjoy the moist scrumptiousness when I felt it again—this time in two consecutive rounds. I had been egged…again. The viscous innards glooped off my head and onto my clean black skirt. I scooped up my skirt and ran outside before any of the nasty stuff got on the floor. This time Hanna, the perpetrator, came with her peppermint shampoo to help me wash out the stuff. Oh the joys. They tell me egg is good for your hair. I can’t tell you, I didn’t leave it in long enough to make a difference.
It was an enjoyable birthday. I felt very loved, eggs and all. I can always retell the story of spending my 22nd birthday in Peru amongst good friends, good food, and raw eggs.
It’s exactly a week after my birthday. I’ve been 22 for 10 days now. The popular question when one becomes another year older is, “Do you feel older or wiser?” I lay in bed the morning of my birthday, which conveniently happened to be a Sunday, and waited to see if I felt....different. As few minutes passed and as with every birthday I’ve had, nothing seemed odd or special or...different. In fact this day felt more ordinary than any of my previous birthdays.
I had promised to take the kids to Campo Verde for a collective Church field day the Campo Verde church had organized. Several other Churches from the area were getting together to play volleyball and fútbol. As we sat in the sun baking and watching the games, I contemplated being a year older. Verbalizing my age to several curious kids made me feel old.
Now, I know that sounds ridiculous. Those of you who have surpassed the age of 22 are probably rolling your eyes at this moment. I still think that 22 is young, but I think the reason I’m starting to feel¨old¨is because all my friends have graduated, or will soon be graduating. Most of my closest friends are currently engaged and will soon be returning home to their spouses after work. Many of my friends have or will be starting real jobs. Real life, whatever that is, is just around the corner. My childhood is fading into the distance (yeah, yeah, a bit melodramatic).
Well, on to happier things. The evening of my birthday all of Km 38 gathered at our house for a delicious meal prepared by the girls; they wouldn’t let me into the kitchen. I think I’m becoming more and more like my mother; I couldn’t just sit and wait as they were cooking. I wanted to be in there stirring or chopping something. I was shooed out several times.
The party kicked off with Hanna and Sharon(not sure if that’s spelled correctly), Elias’s niece, came in with not one but two large, homemade, caramel glazed, sprinkle topped, delicious cake. My favorite part about one of the cakes was my name neatly spelled with gumdrops. It read: Llanesa (the double “l” makes the “ja” sound). Incorrectly spelled in more ways than one, but it was so cute, I absolutely loved it.
All of us piled our plates full of delicious birthday goodness. It has become a tradition amongst the SM’s to have tostadas on our birthday. We make homemade tortillas, pico de gallo, “bomb sauce” (made by Lauren), yummy beans, rice, and some sort of fajita style stuff. Muy rico! However, before I could take a bite of my food it happened. I felt it cold, wet, and slimy running down my head and onto my shoulders. I had been egged. It’s a tradition here in Peru, as well as many other Latin countries, to smash an egg atop the head of the birthday boy/girl. Usually it’s accompanied with flour; thankfully I only got the egg. Everyone let out their laughs and approving shouts. I quickly ran to the sink where I thoroughly washed my hair.
The egg washed out and a pair of clean clothes on I consumed the delicious plate of birthday goodness. With that first bite all was right in the world. We ate, talked, and then it was time for the cutting of the cake. I love the cake here, at least the type that was made for my birthday. It’s buttery and moist and not too sweet, perfect. I sat down to enjoy the moist scrumptiousness when I felt it again—this time in two consecutive rounds. I had been egged…again. The viscous innards glooped off my head and onto my clean black skirt. I scooped up my skirt and ran outside before any of the nasty stuff got on the floor. This time Hanna, the perpetrator, came with her peppermint shampoo to help me wash out the stuff. Oh the joys. They tell me egg is good for your hair. I can’t tell you, I didn’t leave it in long enough to make a difference.
It was an enjoyable birthday. I felt very loved, eggs and all. I can always retell the story of spending my 22nd birthday in Peru amongst good friends, good food, and raw eggs.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Rain on a Tin Roof
It's raining thoroughly now. All the chickens have found shelter in various places. This kind of rain keeps everyone indoors. A lazy mood has taken over. The only thing that seems to remedy this dreary day is a nice hot cup of tea, the soothing serenades of Simon and Garfunkel, and Tito occasionally sitting in my lap. I actually like days like this here--where nature forces everyone to take it easy, not that life here is always on the go. So there's not much more to do now other than read and do some blogging.
Life here this week has been a lot less exhausting than the previous week. Last week we started our first campaign of 2011. During the week of campaign we all camped out at Km 8. Daily living there is a lot more primitive than 38, even though they are closer to Pucallpa. The water runs once a day. So buckets must be filled for showers and dish washing. And you always hope that the water runs before you go to clinic so you can have a full water bottle for the day. The days were quite busy, we saw on average 200 patients a day in the medical and dental clinic. Then in the evenings we'd pack up and head to the tent to have VBS and evangelistic meetings.
I love singing with the kids at Km 6. None of them had known the songs prior to our coming. It filled my heart to hear the kids singing or shouting with such enthusiasm. They especially loved the Creation song, which is a new one that I've learned here. The song talks about various animals and how all of them are God's creation. Each animal has it's own hand motions. The kids absolutely love this song and ask to sing it 3 or 4 times each night. One of my favorites is "I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Down in My Heart." Of course we sing it in Spanish. The kids get so excited to shout, "En mi corazon," (in my heart) each time. I wish I always had that much enthusiasm. I think this last week helped me to understand why Jesus told the people that to enter heaven we must become like little children.
Also this week Yerbas Buenas decided that they wanted to have an all-night prayer meeting. Yerbas Buenas isn't my home church here, but I decided to join Hanna. I also thought this would be a good time to have my own prayer session with God. It definitely wasn't what I was expecting however.
We arrived to the church members singing hymns. It was only 10:30 and people were already yawning, including myself. In fact I was already tired before arriving at the Church. I was doubtful that I would make it the whole night. After a few more songs, one of the members stood to give a little message. Then we were told that we would have some time to pray individually. We each found our little corners. I pulled out my prayer journal, Bible, and reference guide that Brittany Gimbel had sent me. I was ready to put in a good hour. However, after about 3 minutes of praying, the church members were finished with their prayers. They started chatting amongst each other, some were chuckling-probably talking about how they were going to make it through the entire night. At that point I realized that this was not going to be what I had expected. They had only prayed for 3 minutes and were done, how in the world were they going to go through a whole night of prayer?
The night ended up being more of an all-night hymn sing with a few devotional thoughts thrown in and some prayer sessions. I dozed off a couple of times from exhaustion. I did end up having some really good prayer time with God. But I was frustrated with myself. I've stayed up all night in the past doing laser-tag parties or movie nights and didn't have too much of a problem making it through the night. But now, that I was supposed to be having a prayer time with God, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I think I felt a little of what the disciples went through when Jesus asked them to stay up and pray with him. They had all the best intentions of having an all-night prayer session. But weakness took over.
I'm glad I went. Although I think I'd rather have an all day prayer session than an all-nighter. My mind is clearer during daylight hours. During our all-nighter I did come across some scripture verses pertaining to prayer that I enjoyed. I'll share them now.
Principles on Prayer (from Mark Finley's book)
"The purpose of prayer is to lead us into oneness with the mind of God and deepest fellowship with Him."
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me. Revelation 3:20
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:16-19
Life here this week has been a lot less exhausting than the previous week. Last week we started our first campaign of 2011. During the week of campaign we all camped out at Km 8. Daily living there is a lot more primitive than 38, even though they are closer to Pucallpa. The water runs once a day. So buckets must be filled for showers and dish washing. And you always hope that the water runs before you go to clinic so you can have a full water bottle for the day. The days were quite busy, we saw on average 200 patients a day in the medical and dental clinic. Then in the evenings we'd pack up and head to the tent to have VBS and evangelistic meetings.
I love singing with the kids at Km 6. None of them had known the songs prior to our coming. It filled my heart to hear the kids singing or shouting with such enthusiasm. They especially loved the Creation song, which is a new one that I've learned here. The song talks about various animals and how all of them are God's creation. Each animal has it's own hand motions. The kids absolutely love this song and ask to sing it 3 or 4 times each night. One of my favorites is "I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Down in My Heart." Of course we sing it in Spanish. The kids get so excited to shout, "En mi corazon," (in my heart) each time. I wish I always had that much enthusiasm. I think this last week helped me to understand why Jesus told the people that to enter heaven we must become like little children.
Also this week Yerbas Buenas decided that they wanted to have an all-night prayer meeting. Yerbas Buenas isn't my home church here, but I decided to join Hanna. I also thought this would be a good time to have my own prayer session with God. It definitely wasn't what I was expecting however.
We arrived to the church members singing hymns. It was only 10:30 and people were already yawning, including myself. In fact I was already tired before arriving at the Church. I was doubtful that I would make it the whole night. After a few more songs, one of the members stood to give a little message. Then we were told that we would have some time to pray individually. We each found our little corners. I pulled out my prayer journal, Bible, and reference guide that Brittany Gimbel had sent me. I was ready to put in a good hour. However, after about 3 minutes of praying, the church members were finished with their prayers. They started chatting amongst each other, some were chuckling-probably talking about how they were going to make it through the entire night. At that point I realized that this was not going to be what I had expected. They had only prayed for 3 minutes and were done, how in the world were they going to go through a whole night of prayer?
The night ended up being more of an all-night hymn sing with a few devotional thoughts thrown in and some prayer sessions. I dozed off a couple of times from exhaustion. I did end up having some really good prayer time with God. But I was frustrated with myself. I've stayed up all night in the past doing laser-tag parties or movie nights and didn't have too much of a problem making it through the night. But now, that I was supposed to be having a prayer time with God, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I think I felt a little of what the disciples went through when Jesus asked them to stay up and pray with him. They had all the best intentions of having an all-night prayer session. But weakness took over.
I'm glad I went. Although I think I'd rather have an all day prayer session than an all-nighter. My mind is clearer during daylight hours. During our all-nighter I did come across some scripture verses pertaining to prayer that I enjoyed. I'll share them now.
Principles on Prayer (from Mark Finley's book)
"The purpose of prayer is to lead us into oneness with the mind of God and deepest fellowship with Him."
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me. Revelation 3:20
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:16-19
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Back in Peru
My feet are sticking to the floor of the internet cafe as I write. I hear the lady counting out a customer´s change in Spanish. My fingers are trying to remember the differences between this keyboard and an American one. I´m back in Peru.
I enjoyed being at home for a couple weeks. Ok, well,¨enjoyed¨ would honestly be an understatement. It was awesome to be able to see my family and a few friends. Maybe I went a little crazy on American restaurants and Mom´s homecooking, or maybe not. I don´t think I´ve ever loved Taco Bell as much as I did for those last two weeks.
This week I´ve been trying to decide if going home for a bit was a good thing. I don´t regret seeing my family at all, but I wonder if I should have just stayed down here and had my family just come visit. It´s definitely been a little harder being back here just because I was reminded of what I don´t have down here. But this week I´ve also been reminded of what I don´t have back home.
I love the simplicity of life here in Peru. The loving people. I love that when I´m here, I´m here. I don´t have to worry about school, paying for gas, my future. I only have time to focus on what´s happening each day, each moment. And maybe that´s how I should have been living my life all along. Isn´t that what the Bible says? ¨Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.¨ I forget about that verse all too often.
I just keep reminding myself, I´m only here for three and a half more months. It´s just a tiny percentage of my life. I need to make the most of the short time I have here. So, here it goes, on to more adventures.
I enjoyed being at home for a couple weeks. Ok, well,¨enjoyed¨ would honestly be an understatement. It was awesome to be able to see my family and a few friends. Maybe I went a little crazy on American restaurants and Mom´s homecooking, or maybe not. I don´t think I´ve ever loved Taco Bell as much as I did for those last two weeks.
This week I´ve been trying to decide if going home for a bit was a good thing. I don´t regret seeing my family at all, but I wonder if I should have just stayed down here and had my family just come visit. It´s definitely been a little harder being back here just because I was reminded of what I don´t have down here. But this week I´ve also been reminded of what I don´t have back home.
I love the simplicity of life here in Peru. The loving people. I love that when I´m here, I´m here. I don´t have to worry about school, paying for gas, my future. I only have time to focus on what´s happening each day, each moment. And maybe that´s how I should have been living my life all along. Isn´t that what the Bible says? ¨Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.¨ I forget about that verse all too often.
I just keep reminding myself, I´m only here for three and a half more months. It´s just a tiny percentage of my life. I need to make the most of the short time I have here. So, here it goes, on to more adventures.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Lots of Time in Starbucks
December 21, 2010
I’m currently on a train to Machu Picchu with my family. I’m really glad to have them here with me after not seeing them for the past 4 months. Although after seeing them I feel as though I only left home just yesterday. So, what’s been happening so far? Well, my vacation started on Wednesday. I got up bright and early to finis packing (4:00 am). It was still chilly from the rain we had the day before. I put my last minute things in my over-sized backpack, and then the Doc was read to head out to pick up Chris and Caleb at Km 8.
We went through security, which was almost a joke; we didn’t take off our shoes and I took in a full Nalgene without a fuss. Our flight was beautiful as we traveled over the Andes. The morning sun was peeking over the ridges and revealing the villages that dotted the landscape. We “oohed” and “ahhed” as we admired the breathtaking scenery.
I was going to be visiting Chris Cloze in Lima. His office had kindly arranged a taxi to pick me up. The guys decided they wanted to go by the Inca market and to some last minute shopping for family and friends. Due to some heavy traffic from the airport we only had thirty minutes to shop before the boys had to be back for their flight. We speed shopped. I had fun helping Caleb haggle; although I’m pretty sure we still got ripped off. Before we knew it the thirty minutes were up and Chris and Caleb had to get back to the airport. I said my goodbyes and waved them off as the taxi took them back.
I went up to Chris’s office to wait until he returned from his appointment. I greeted Ruth, his really cool secretary. I like her; she’s nice, funny, and likes to sing at work, which provides for good entertainment. Unfortunately, she is leaving. Ruth greeted me and said they had been worried. Apparently, it took longer than usual to get to the Union office from the airport. I told her there had been a lot of traffic. We made small talk as I used Chris’s computer.
The rest of my day went like this:
• Went to Starbucks and skyped with Molly and my family
• Met Chris and his brother Alex for lunch at the Adventist school.
• Hung out in Chris’s office.
• Checked into my hostel.
• Skyped with Aimee.
• Went to Wong
• Went to English class with Chris.
• Before that, checked on show times for Narnia with Alex.
• Went to Won to buy supper/snacks for the movie.
• Stood outside the theater eating some of our food and debating whether or not they would let us bring in our food.
• Decided to sneak in our food.
• Got our food into the theater.
• Watched Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn reader in 3D while freezing my feet off.
• Went back to my hostel.
• Took my first hot shower since being in Lima
• Felt quite independent staying in a hostel in Lima by myself.
The next day in Lima was pretty uneventful. I mostly hung out in Chris’s office and Starbucks, and Wong. It was nice to just relax without having to dodge flies or swat cockroaches.
The Christmas traffic on the way back to the airport that evening was horrendous, but luckily I wasn’t in a hurry since my family wouldn’t be getting in until 12:00 AM.
I sat in Starbucks waiting, waiting, anticipating, sleeping a little, and then waiting some more. Finally, I heard their flight announced over the intercom. I went down to join the hoard of people awaiting their family members and friends. As I waited I wondered whom all these people were waiting for. Family they hadn’t seen in days, weeks, years? Friends visiting from various countries? Potential employees? I wanted to know each of their stories. But mostly I wanted to see my own family. I stood in the mob fidgeting, smelling some bad breath, being pushed, nudged, and ignored for nearly an hour until finally I saw my family coming through the sliding doors. I ran and pushed my way through the crowd to hug my mom, dad, and brother. It was a sweet reunion.
I’m currently on a train to Machu Picchu with my family. I’m really glad to have them here with me after not seeing them for the past 4 months. Although after seeing them I feel as though I only left home just yesterday. So, what’s been happening so far? Well, my vacation started on Wednesday. I got up bright and early to finis packing (4:00 am). It was still chilly from the rain we had the day before. I put my last minute things in my over-sized backpack, and then the Doc was read to head out to pick up Chris and Caleb at Km 8.
We went through security, which was almost a joke; we didn’t take off our shoes and I took in a full Nalgene without a fuss. Our flight was beautiful as we traveled over the Andes. The morning sun was peeking over the ridges and revealing the villages that dotted the landscape. We “oohed” and “ahhed” as we admired the breathtaking scenery.
I was going to be visiting Chris Cloze in Lima. His office had kindly arranged a taxi to pick me up. The guys decided they wanted to go by the Inca market and to some last minute shopping for family and friends. Due to some heavy traffic from the airport we only had thirty minutes to shop before the boys had to be back for their flight. We speed shopped. I had fun helping Caleb haggle; although I’m pretty sure we still got ripped off. Before we knew it the thirty minutes were up and Chris and Caleb had to get back to the airport. I said my goodbyes and waved them off as the taxi took them back.
I went up to Chris’s office to wait until he returned from his appointment. I greeted Ruth, his really cool secretary. I like her; she’s nice, funny, and likes to sing at work, which provides for good entertainment. Unfortunately, she is leaving. Ruth greeted me and said they had been worried. Apparently, it took longer than usual to get to the Union office from the airport. I told her there had been a lot of traffic. We made small talk as I used Chris’s computer.
The rest of my day went like this:
• Went to Starbucks and skyped with Molly and my family
• Met Chris and his brother Alex for lunch at the Adventist school.
• Hung out in Chris’s office.
• Checked into my hostel.
• Skyped with Aimee.
• Went to Wong
• Went to English class with Chris.
• Before that, checked on show times for Narnia with Alex.
• Went to Won to buy supper/snacks for the movie.
• Stood outside the theater eating some of our food and debating whether or not they would let us bring in our food.
• Decided to sneak in our food.
• Got our food into the theater.
• Watched Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn reader in 3D while freezing my feet off.
• Went back to my hostel.
• Took my first hot shower since being in Lima
• Felt quite independent staying in a hostel in Lima by myself.
The next day in Lima was pretty uneventful. I mostly hung out in Chris’s office and Starbucks, and Wong. It was nice to just relax without having to dodge flies or swat cockroaches.
The Christmas traffic on the way back to the airport that evening was horrendous, but luckily I wasn’t in a hurry since my family wouldn’t be getting in until 12:00 AM.
I sat in Starbucks waiting, waiting, anticipating, sleeping a little, and then waiting some more. Finally, I heard their flight announced over the intercom. I went down to join the hoard of people awaiting their family members and friends. As I waited I wondered whom all these people were waiting for. Family they hadn’t seen in days, weeks, years? Friends visiting from various countries? Potential employees? I wanted to know each of their stories. But mostly I wanted to see my own family. I stood in the mob fidgeting, smelling some bad breath, being pushed, nudged, and ignored for nearly an hour until finally I saw my family coming through the sliding doors. I ran and pushed my way through the crowd to hug my mom, dad, and brother. It was a sweet reunion.
Living Life in First Gear
December 14, 2010
We’ve started Pathfinders here; it’s called Conquistadores in Peru. I feel like Pathfinders and Conquistadors don’t quite have the same meaning. “Come kids, come be Conquistadors. You know, the guys who came over from Spain to conquer your land and slaughter your people, and tear down your beautiful Incan temples to replace them with their catholic cathedrals? Yeah, let’s emulate them!” Ok, so yeah, we’re Conquistadors for Jesus, but I just feel like they could have come up with a better name.
Moving on. So this Sunday, the last Sunday of Pathfinders before Christmas break, Caleb, Rebecca, and I went out to pick up the kids. This particular morning we had to take the combi because the Doctor was using the truck.
Now, let me just say that the combi is not the ideal vehicle. First of all, the door doesn’t close correctly, it closes, but it takes some super human strength to shut it. We had break issues; as in you better start slowing down about ½ a Km before you actually want to stop (thankfully that is fixed now). When you drive down a dirt road, the dirt flies in through every crack and crevice. And the cover for some sort of battery is broken, so every so often it sparks. Also, it’s almost impossible to find the gear and you really have to crank the steering wheel to turn. You have to be a pro to drive this thing; thankfully Doctor Mathews has perfected the art of driving the combi. Despite all of its issues, the combi does provide us with extra transportation and cargo space. So I really shouldn’t complain.
Needless to say, Caleb was not too thrilled to be driving the combi. But it was all we had. So we hopped in the van and made our way to Campo Verde to pick up our first group of kids. The trip to Campo Verde was pretty uneventful, just a lot of driving up and down streets in search of Conquistadores. After successfully finding them we made or way to the second pit stop: Yerbas Buenas.
The road to Yerbas (sounds like a good movie or book title) is supering bumpy because of the rain washouts. We bumped along, swerving to avoid the big potholes, all the way to pick up…………one kid. Just one. No one else showed up. But hey, one is better than none. On our way back down the road we saw an old lady and a kid from one of my classes walking down the road, so we stopped to pick them up. Then kept going (I know, riveting writing). We were almost to the end of the dirt road when we saw two of my kids from Los Pinos school. We stopped and yelled out the window, “Quieres ir?” They happily agreed and Caleb went to shift the gear. Then it happened.
“Oh no,” Caleb yelled.
“What?” I asked with a little panic.
I turned my head to see Caleb holding up the gear shifter in his right hand, detached from the ground. We both screamed. Then started laughing from the ridiculousness of the situation.
“What are we going to do?”
“Well, we’re in first gear still, so I should be able to make it.”
And so we did. We still had one more stop to make in Santa Elvita which was about 2 Km from where we were at the moment. The drive was painfully slow. We laughed the whole way. I think we all could have jogged faster.
Finally, we got all the kids to 38. The rest of the morning was spent teaching the kids how to set up and take down a tent. They raced to see who could do it the fastest. We also taught them how to tie four different kinds of knots. The kids had fun, I had fun, it was a good morning. Luckily, when it was time to go we had the truck to take the kids back.
We’ve started Pathfinders here; it’s called Conquistadores in Peru. I feel like Pathfinders and Conquistadors don’t quite have the same meaning. “Come kids, come be Conquistadors. You know, the guys who came over from Spain to conquer your land and slaughter your people, and tear down your beautiful Incan temples to replace them with their catholic cathedrals? Yeah, let’s emulate them!” Ok, so yeah, we’re Conquistadors for Jesus, but I just feel like they could have come up with a better name.
Moving on. So this Sunday, the last Sunday of Pathfinders before Christmas break, Caleb, Rebecca, and I went out to pick up the kids. This particular morning we had to take the combi because the Doctor was using the truck.
Now, let me just say that the combi is not the ideal vehicle. First of all, the door doesn’t close correctly, it closes, but it takes some super human strength to shut it. We had break issues; as in you better start slowing down about ½ a Km before you actually want to stop (thankfully that is fixed now). When you drive down a dirt road, the dirt flies in through every crack and crevice. And the cover for some sort of battery is broken, so every so often it sparks. Also, it’s almost impossible to find the gear and you really have to crank the steering wheel to turn. You have to be a pro to drive this thing; thankfully Doctor Mathews has perfected the art of driving the combi. Despite all of its issues, the combi does provide us with extra transportation and cargo space. So I really shouldn’t complain.
Needless to say, Caleb was not too thrilled to be driving the combi. But it was all we had. So we hopped in the van and made our way to Campo Verde to pick up our first group of kids. The trip to Campo Verde was pretty uneventful, just a lot of driving up and down streets in search of Conquistadores. After successfully finding them we made or way to the second pit stop: Yerbas Buenas.
The road to Yerbas (sounds like a good movie or book title) is supering bumpy because of the rain washouts. We bumped along, swerving to avoid the big potholes, all the way to pick up…………one kid. Just one. No one else showed up. But hey, one is better than none. On our way back down the road we saw an old lady and a kid from one of my classes walking down the road, so we stopped to pick them up. Then kept going (I know, riveting writing). We were almost to the end of the dirt road when we saw two of my kids from Los Pinos school. We stopped and yelled out the window, “Quieres ir?” They happily agreed and Caleb went to shift the gear. Then it happened.
“Oh no,” Caleb yelled.
“What?” I asked with a little panic.
I turned my head to see Caleb holding up the gear shifter in his right hand, detached from the ground. We both screamed. Then started laughing from the ridiculousness of the situation.
“What are we going to do?”
“Well, we’re in first gear still, so I should be able to make it.”
And so we did. We still had one more stop to make in Santa Elvita which was about 2 Km from where we were at the moment. The drive was painfully slow. We laughed the whole way. I think we all could have jogged faster.
Finally, we got all the kids to 38. The rest of the morning was spent teaching the kids how to set up and take down a tent. They raced to see who could do it the fastest. We also taught them how to tie four different kinds of knots. The kids had fun, I had fun, it was a good morning. Luckily, when it was time to go we had the truck to take the kids back.
Hot Chocolate and Bleached Beards
December 13, 2010
Two more days until Christmas vacation. Up until now December has been filled with Christmas parties, festive songs, hot chocolate and Panton.
This last Sabbath we had a chocolatada. Pretty much a hot chocolate party. We had Yerbas Buenas and Santa Elvita churches come together at Santa Elvira to have J.A. (Adventist Youth program).
We decorated Hermana Lucia’s house with paper snowflakes and stars. A small tree with Christmas decorations stood at the front of the church. The place looked very festive and whimsical as the breeze made the paper decorations spin wildly from their strings.
We had a quaint Christmas program planned. I started it off with some kids songs on my ukulele, accompanied by one of my students, Jennifer. Our first song was “Your Everlasting Love.” We had everyone participating and jumping around. I loved seeing the adults hopping in line. After the songs it was time for me to tell a Christmas children’s story. I decided to share with them one of my favorite Uncle Arthur’s Christmas stories.
I love that guy, Uncle Arthur. He has provided me with many a children’s story over the years, and this one didn’t fail me. The story I told was about a boy who’s family was very poor and had a sister who was sick. One evening he was invited to a Christmas party. More stuff happened in between, but the main part of the story was that instead of choosing a red fire engine as his gift he chose a baby doll for his sister. Of course all the ignorant children laughed at him and made fun of him for choosing a doll. In the end he gives his sick sister the doll and he ended up getting the red fire engine because the lady who invited him to the party understood his reasoning. The kids seemed to like it. I had fun telling it.
The rest of the program continued with more songs, some really good testimonies, and games. Then it was time for the yummy stuff. Some church members hauled the huge vat of hot chocolate from the fire where it had been warming. Along with that we had three boxes of Panton to hand out to all the members.
Once all of the goodies had been consumed it was time for Papa Noel to make his appearance. Caleb had been growing out his beard as sort of a bet with Jonathan. Daniel (one of the Peruvians) convinced him to bleach it to make him look more like Papa Noel, Santa Claus. He looked a bit ridiculous with his beard an orangey-blond and his hair still black. But it was fun. He came out of the van with a blinking Santa hat, holding a bag full of toys merrily shouting, “Ho, ho ho!”
All the kids rushed him wanting their regalos. The stampede of yelling children must have been a bit overwhelming as they shouted, “Papa Noel, Papa Noel!” I happened to be wearing a red shirt and a black skirt, which matched Caleb’s red shirt and black pants. So I was dubbed, “Mama Noela.” It was fun handing out the toys.
After we passed out toys to the eager children we went around the little town of Santa Elvita giving gifts to the kids that didn’t make it. It was a good night and a very merry navidad.
Two more days until Christmas vacation. Up until now December has been filled with Christmas parties, festive songs, hot chocolate and Panton.
This last Sabbath we had a chocolatada. Pretty much a hot chocolate party. We had Yerbas Buenas and Santa Elvita churches come together at Santa Elvira to have J.A. (Adventist Youth program).
We decorated Hermana Lucia’s house with paper snowflakes and stars. A small tree with Christmas decorations stood at the front of the church. The place looked very festive and whimsical as the breeze made the paper decorations spin wildly from their strings.
We had a quaint Christmas program planned. I started it off with some kids songs on my ukulele, accompanied by one of my students, Jennifer. Our first song was “Your Everlasting Love.” We had everyone participating and jumping around. I loved seeing the adults hopping in line. After the songs it was time for me to tell a Christmas children’s story. I decided to share with them one of my favorite Uncle Arthur’s Christmas stories.
I love that guy, Uncle Arthur. He has provided me with many a children’s story over the years, and this one didn’t fail me. The story I told was about a boy who’s family was very poor and had a sister who was sick. One evening he was invited to a Christmas party. More stuff happened in between, but the main part of the story was that instead of choosing a red fire engine as his gift he chose a baby doll for his sister. Of course all the ignorant children laughed at him and made fun of him for choosing a doll. In the end he gives his sick sister the doll and he ended up getting the red fire engine because the lady who invited him to the party understood his reasoning. The kids seemed to like it. I had fun telling it.
The rest of the program continued with more songs, some really good testimonies, and games. Then it was time for the yummy stuff. Some church members hauled the huge vat of hot chocolate from the fire where it had been warming. Along with that we had three boxes of Panton to hand out to all the members.
Once all of the goodies had been consumed it was time for Papa Noel to make his appearance. Caleb had been growing out his beard as sort of a bet with Jonathan. Daniel (one of the Peruvians) convinced him to bleach it to make him look more like Papa Noel, Santa Claus. He looked a bit ridiculous with his beard an orangey-blond and his hair still black. But it was fun. He came out of the van with a blinking Santa hat, holding a bag full of toys merrily shouting, “Ho, ho ho!”
All the kids rushed him wanting their regalos. The stampede of yelling children must have been a bit overwhelming as they shouted, “Papa Noel, Papa Noel!” I happened to be wearing a red shirt and a black skirt, which matched Caleb’s red shirt and black pants. So I was dubbed, “Mama Noela.” It was fun handing out the toys.
After we passed out toys to the eager children we went around the little town of Santa Elvita giving gifts to the kids that didn’t make it. It was a good night and a very merry navidad.
Sing Sang Sung
December 4, 2010
Adult English class has been interesting this week. After one of my classes a few of the students stayed behind just to chat. Amidst the conversation some of the students informed me that they wanted to learn some songs in English. I told them they could choose which ones they wanted to learn. Among the suggested bands were Simple Plan and Justin Bieber.
This week one of the guys came back with a copy of the lyrics to Simple Plan’s “Perfect.” I’d heard of the band but not the song. I told them that I would teach them how to pronounce the words, but I couldn’t teach them how to sing it.
I don’t know if you have heard this song, but it is pretty dramatic. I feel like I can’t fully “appreciate” this song without sitting in a dark room, having not showered for days, with a hoody and cuts on my wrist. Ok, maybe the cuts on my wrist are a little much, but seriously, it’s ridiculous. Feel free to go listen to the song or look up the lyrics. But I’m warning you; you may be depressed for days.
Anyway, I spent a couple days teaching the students this song. We spent the first day going over how to pronounce the words. The next class period I translated the song for them and then we practiced it with the music that one of my students had on his phone. One guy was really into it; I could tell he had listened to it quite a bit. He even had the nasally tone down. I found it entertaining.
Since it was Christmas time I thought I’d teach them “Jingle Bells” to get into the spirit. In return they taught it to me in Spanish:
Navidad, navidad,
Blanca navidad,
Es un dia de alegria y felicidad, hey (x2)
Apparently, there are variations of this song. Cause I heard it in Pucallpa the other day and it wasn’t quite the same. Either that, or they taught me the wrong song. Anyway, we had some good times.
Adult English class has been interesting this week. After one of my classes a few of the students stayed behind just to chat. Amidst the conversation some of the students informed me that they wanted to learn some songs in English. I told them they could choose which ones they wanted to learn. Among the suggested bands were Simple Plan and Justin Bieber.
This week one of the guys came back with a copy of the lyrics to Simple Plan’s “Perfect.” I’d heard of the band but not the song. I told them that I would teach them how to pronounce the words, but I couldn’t teach them how to sing it.
I don’t know if you have heard this song, but it is pretty dramatic. I feel like I can’t fully “appreciate” this song without sitting in a dark room, having not showered for days, with a hoody and cuts on my wrist. Ok, maybe the cuts on my wrist are a little much, but seriously, it’s ridiculous. Feel free to go listen to the song or look up the lyrics. But I’m warning you; you may be depressed for days.
Anyway, I spent a couple days teaching the students this song. We spent the first day going over how to pronounce the words. The next class period I translated the song for them and then we practiced it with the music that one of my students had on his phone. One guy was really into it; I could tell he had listened to it quite a bit. He even had the nasally tone down. I found it entertaining.
Since it was Christmas time I thought I’d teach them “Jingle Bells” to get into the spirit. In return they taught it to me in Spanish:
Navidad, navidad,
Blanca navidad,
Es un dia de alegria y felicidad, hey (x2)
Apparently, there are variations of this song. Cause I heard it in Pucallpa the other day and it wasn’t quite the same. Either that, or they taught me the wrong song. Anyway, we had some good times.
Here it comes...
Ok, so here it comes, a whole month's worth of blogs. Feel free to ignore all of them. Maybe this year I will be more consistent in my blogging......or maybe not. I won't promise anything.
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