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.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
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.
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