Mi Familia Querida

Hey y'all.

Guess it's about time I put something up on here in case any of you unfortunate souls are still following.  What I realized, as I wracked my brains for a profound and inspiring topic, was that I have yet to post an entry regarding my wonderful host family here in Urubamba.  This, I consider to be a great oversight on my part, considering the incredible part they have played in my experience so far.  So here's to the Davalos Ibarras.

Lourdes, my host mom: My favorite thing about Lourdes is her openness and willingness to share.  We have a lot of heart-to-heart discussions, often about things like values and philosophies, and we've found that we have a lot in common.  Her parenting style often reminds me of my real mother: firm and insistent but willing to jump into whatever silly games the kids come up with.  Which, I think, is due to another thing I love about Lourdes: she has a "go-with-the-flow," spur-of-the-moment attitude.  One day, when I was eating lunch with my family, my sister started whistling along to a song on the radio.  When I started whistling along too, Lourdes decided to join in.  "Haber, que cancion es esta?" she asked and began whistling herself (Listen, which song is this?).  And from there, Lourdes began a little contest, and we all had a great time playing Name That Tune.

Amilcar, my host dad: My dad has a quiet, but forceful leadership style.  He doesn't talk too much, but when he does, it's to contribute something insightful or to share an experience or to make a witty comment.  Unlike some dads, Amilcar sees no gender specifications when it comes to housework, and he does a beautiful job of sharing the cooking, cleaning, and clothes-washing with my host mom.  (As it should be.)  My host parents are a great team, which reminds me fondly of my real parents, who are living temporarily on different continents but Skype probably at least twice a day.

Lucero, my host sister: My 12-year-old sister is the daughter my real mom always wanted.  She helps out a ton around the house, including taking care of Charito, our four-year-old sister, and my host parents really count on her responsibility.  What I really love about Luce is how when she decides she wants to do something, she commits wholeheartedly.  In December, the Bridge Year group hosted a talent show for the families.  As I think I already blogged about, our family was a bit guilty of procrastination and thus we had to choreograph our dance on the morning of the show.  As both of our parents were working and our other two siblings were more interested in playing than practicing, Lucero and I were left to figure out our act alone.  I was impressed by the conviction with which Lucero took the lead and repeated, drilled, and modified various steps as we learned the dance from a music video.  In the same way, when we celebrated Carnavales (HUGE town-wide water fight this past Sunday), Lucero spent the morning planning out a detailed agenda of games and activities for our family + cousins, complete with assigned teams.

Angelo, my host brother: Angelo is 9 and lives for music.  He and I love rocking out to Michael Jackson, Chino y Nacho, and of course, the Jonas Brothers.  I think being the middle child makes Angelo an adorable combination of ripening maturity and childish innocence.  One day, when I came home from work in the afternoon, only Angelo and Lucero were home, but Luce was off watching TV.  As I walked into the kitchen to get some water, Angelo followed me, asking "Div, quieres helado?" (Do you want ice cream?)  "Of course," I replied in Spanish, and went over to the freezer to get it.  But Angelo wouldn't have it.  He insisted I sit down so he could serve me, and he did, garnishing the scoop with a strawberry wafer.  And of course, when I finished, and tried to wash my bowl in the sink, I was unsuccessful; Angelo wanted to do it.  He also has endless ideas for fun activities, which have ranged from multiple variations on hide-and-go-seek, to a matchbox car racetrack of his own making, to chess, to the Best of the Jackson Five.

Charito, my host sister: My four year-old sister Charo is something else.  It's been many, many years since I've lived with someone that young, and Charito's boundless energy is definitely transferable.  It's also so cool to see how much of an influence you can have on a child of that age.  When I went to Machu Picchu with my host family, there was an area with ancient Incan steps that consisted of staggered rocks jutting out horizontally from walls.  Therefore, there were large gaps in between the steps (no railings, of course), making them a little scary, at least for a little kid.  Charito and I went to climb the steps, and she raced ahead of me.  At first, I lent her a hand, expecting her to be a little nervous.  "Yo solita!" she exclaimed, meaning that she could do it all by herself.  But before even leaving the first step, she changed her mind.  "Tengo miedo!" she said.  "I'm scared."  At first, I offered some encouraging words, reminding her that not only did I think she could do it but that I would catch her if anything happened.  But she had already made up her mind, so we left the steps and went to sit in the grass.  Only a few moments later, Charo got up again, determined to conquer the wall.  I held her hand as she climbed, coaxing her up step by step.  As we climbed the next wall, and then the next, I helped her less and less, eventually only watching from behind as she climbed by herself.  When we were both at the bottom again, and I realized how much she'd done on her own, I was so proud of my sister.  For me, it's fascinating to watch how quickly children change and develop at that age.  And of course, four year-olds are just so lovable!

So anyway, that's a tiny glimpse of my fabulous host family for you.  I hope you get to meet them one day.

Peace.

Puno

Hey y'all.

I just got back from a week at Peru's southern border, where I checked out some stuff in Puno, Lake Titicaca, and Bolivia.  Hope you enjoy this rare occasion that is me posting photos on my blog.

Isla de los Uros: This is an archipelago of man-made islands on the Peruvian side of the lake.  They were constructed hundreds of years ago by refugees from the Inca rule.  The 'ground' consists of a 4 meter layer of earth on top of which lies a bed of reeds, a material from which the Uros people also construct their homes.  Their community has an elementary school and health post and they travel by caballito, the traditional fishing boat.

We spent a night on the beautiful Amantani, one of the spectacular islands on Lake Titicaca.  As the island has no lodging facilities apart from natives' homes, we stayed with a host family.  We were lucky enough to be on the island in time for their Virgen de la Candelaria festivities [more on that later] so we spent some time watching elaborately-costumed dancers parade around the plaza to the beat of several marching bands [often playing all at once, yikes!].

We also went to Bolivia for a quick second.  We had hoped to go to La Paz, the country's biggest urban attraction, but a paro[strike] made it risky, and we didn't want to miss our bus back to Peru the next day.  There was also a strike at the border, so we crossed over on foot, which was pretty cool.  We had to walk a few kilometers to get to the nearest town because the road was "blockaded"...

This is not Peru.

B.A. Border Crossers

We spent the weekend in Puno, where the famous Festival de la Virgen de la Candelaria was taking place.  In Peru, each area has its own image of the virgin Mary; Puno's is the Candelaria.  This festival is one of Peru's largest and most famous.  We had a great time in Puno's stadium watching the choreographed traditional dances.  According to the program, there were over seventy groups.  And each had 50-100 participants!  As well as a marching band.  It looked like something out of an Olympic opening ceremony.  Of course, the experience was made complete by the stadium vendors who made constant rounds with camote (sweet potato) chips, ice cream, roast chicken lunch boxes, beer, wafers, juice, and other fun things.

So it was a pretty interesting trip.

Peace.

Reyner Rondón Ismodes

Hey y'all.


This month, for our Princeton website update, my PBY group chose to write about special Peruvians with whom we've made important connections.  Here's what I wrote about Reyner, our Spanish teacher.

If you had said the words “Spanish class,” to me at this time last year, I probably would have smirked.  Or wrinkled my nose.  Or stuck out my tongue.   I’ve always had an interest and a fondness for the Spanish language itself, but in high school, the class just didn’t do it for me.  I probably spent more time looking at the clock than anything else.  Accordingly, I didn’t have high hopes for the language class component of Bridge Year when I arrived in Perú.  More conjugation of tenses that all sounded the same, more puzzling over when and when not to use the subjunctive verb form, more rote memorization of vocabulary words.  Or so I thought.  But then I met Reyner.

            My first encounter with Reyner was my language diagnostic interview.  As I wracked my brains to answer his questions I was also trying to figure out what to make of this thirty-something-year-old man who was to be our Spanish teacher.  I say “Spanish teacher” because I didn’t really expect to connect on a level any deeper than a student typically connects with a teacher.  I don’t think any of us did.  But now, as we near the end of our fifth month in Urubamba, I can say that Reyner is one of my closest Peruvian friends.

            As I discovered almost immediately upon beginning classes with Reyner, his shining quality is his knack for conversation.  As the director of a Spanish school in Urubamba, Reyner has met and taught hundreds of volunteers.  His students are vary greatly in nationality and language level (from extremely basic to superior), but he finds a way to interact—to delve deeper than the surface—with all of them.  At least, it seems that way, considering all the ridiculous stories Reyner has told us about the volunteers of the past, such as the one who hid food in her backpack so her host family wouldn’t know she wasn’t eating it. To make people feel comfortable enough to confide in you takes a certain talent, and Reyner’s is even more impressive because his students, even those who are beginners, are willing express that confidence in a language foreign to them.

            Thanks to Reyner’s flair for banter, which makes our classes mostly conversational, I have learned so much, not only about Spanish but about Peruvian culture and history, Urubamba, and myself.  Often, when someone asks “how are you?” or “what did you do today?” he or she seeks mainly to fill the silence.  But Reyner has a genuine interest, and this leads to the most interesting discussions.  We’ve talked about everything from presidential candidates to the definition of development to consumerism to art.  I like our philosophical chats best because I’m challenged to think about my ideals and morals in Spanish. 

            Reyner also has another endearing ability, which I think comes from his incredible conversational talent: he is a connector.  Some people have a way of recognizing where relationships should form and introducing the right people to each other.  When Reyner found out that I am a musician, he told me he had some local friends who had a salsa/rock/latin jazz band.  Soon after, he accompanied me to their house, and I’ve been a part of Son Tumbao ever since.   Another time, Reyner decided that we (the Princeton kids) should learn to make Perú’s national drink: pisco sours.  He introduced us to his friend, Guido, who has a beautiful house in the countryside just outside of Urubamba.   Not long afterwards, we all went to Guido’s for a lovely campfire/pisco sours night.   It’s truly amazing how many people Reyner knows in Urubamba.  Sometimes, we take a walk through the town during class (usually with a food-related destination in mind), and Reyner typically stops to say hello to at least five people in the street.   

            Speaking of those class-time excursions, I have to add that one of my favorite things about Reyner is that his interest in our education extends far beyond mastery of the Spanish language.   He’s incredibly willing to share what he knows about Peruvian culture and to encourage us to explore and integrate.  To that end, we’ve had a variety of unconventional class sessions, from salsa lessons to a dessert tour to a trip to the cevichería.  (Ceviche is a traditional Peruvian dish that contains fish cooked in lime juice.)  Of course, these activities are enjoyable because of their novelty, but it’s also just plain fun to spend time with Reyner.  His sense of humor, outlook on life, and stories of his eclectic past make for a good time no matter what we’re doing.

            Reyner’s influence on us has certainly exceeded that of a Spanish teacher; he helps us to develop and learn linguistically, culturally and philosophically.  When I reflect on my experience thus far in Perú, almost exactly half of the Bridge Year, I realize how much of an influence Reyner has had on our group.  Through my relationship with Reyner, I’ve been able to understand better certain aspects of living in Urubamba and to integrate more smoothly.  And what’s more, Reyner is simply a great friend.


That is all.


Peace.

Phase Two in Full Swing

Hey y'all.

So as I've probably mentioned before, the Princeton Bridge Year in Peru is scheduled in two phases...Phase One [September-December], during which we 1.) worked on internal ProWorld projects like stoves and filters and 2.) completed community diagnostic activities like house visits and interviews...and Phase Two [January-May] during which we are implementing the projects which we have designed.  So, seeing as we are now in the second week of January, our projects are off to what I hope is a great start...

As selected by community vote, we have implemented English classes [for adults and children] and artisan groups for women in both Media Luna and Chicon.  Each of the five of us is the coordinator for one project in one community; I'm leading English classes for niños in Media Luna.  [On days when we aren't leading, we work as assistants to our colleagues.]  

Having taught English for a few weeks at the end of 2010, I thought I knew what to expect.  But I've discovered that my project placement for the next few months presents a host of new challenges.   At our interest meeting, we [thought we] had made it clear that the children's English classes would be from those between the ages of 10 and 14.  But on Monday, the first day of class, my jaw dropped as tinier and tinier children came to join the group.  By the time we started, there were probably about forty kids, between the ages of four and 16.  Fortunately, Brett, who is teaching with me in Media Luna,  took the littlest kids to the soccer field for a modified English lesson.  

As we expected, the numbers had dwindled a bit [especially the preschoolers] when we began our second class today.  We decided to keep everyone together since there were "only" about 25 kids, but the age range is still pretty wide: from 7 to 13.   For now, it's more or less manageable, since we're only working on easy vocabulary terms, greetings, numbers...that type of thing.  But soon, as we advance into verb conjugation and sentence construction, the age range will demand a differentiated curriculum.  Though that is certainly nerve-wracking, the challenge makes it exciting and keeps it fresh.  

I also spend some of my non-teaching days in Chicon with Eleanor and her artisan group.  Ultimately, the grupo de artesania seeks to provide an outlet for rural women who otherwise spend literally all of their time at home, caring for their children and farm animals.   In addition, we hope to create a sustainable source of extra income for these women; the intention is that they eventually gain both artisan and marketing skills to establish a successful business.  I've only been to one session so far, but I really look forward to getting to know the women and making cultural connections as we do handicrafts together.  

This week, we had a card-making workshop.  We were working with watercolors, with which I don't have too much experience, but I do know one thing: watercolor paintings come out best when you let go.  You can't try to calculate and fix and measure--you just have to let the colors run naturally.  Easier said than done.  Some of the women couldn't break from straight lines and deliberately perfect floral shapes.  But others really started to get it.  It was then that I realized: it's possible that the artisan group will never be a substantial source of income.  It may even be a challenge to break even.  But at the very least, for a few hours a week, the groups give these women experiences that they have most likely never had.  Since they stopped going to school [usually in their mid-teens], these women have been working hard.  If nothing else, the grupo de mujeres gives them a little opportunity to let go.  

That's all for now.  This is a super exciting/nervewracking/trying/challenging/special/interesting time for all of us.

Peace.

One Act Play

Hey y'all.

I'd like to share with you a brand new one act play written by a very close personal friend.  I hope you find it as fabulous as I do.

Untitled
Alec Hanslowe

[Man 1 is standing at bus stop. Man 2 walks in and stands at bus stop.]

Man 1: [Walks in, nods at other man. Man 2 nods back.]

           

Hello.

Man 2: Hello.

           

            [Pause]

Man 1: I’ll kill your wife.

            [Pause]

            No charge.

            [Pause]

Man 2: I’m twenty-two.

            [Pause]

Man 1: What?

Man 2: I’m twenty-two; I’m not old.

            [Pause]

Man 1: What does that have to do with anything?

Man 2: I’m not sure why you’re assuming I’m married.

            [Pause]

            [Looks at hand]

            I don’t have any rings.

            [Looks at hand]

            [Shows Man 1 hand]

Man 1: [Shrugs]

            [Pause]

            [Sighs]

            [Pause]

            I just bought a baby – real cheap . . . let you have him for free.

            [Pause]

Man 2: Why would I want a baby?

Man 1: He’s Chinese.

Man 2: [Looks for bus obviously]

Man 1: I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

            [Pause]

            Just thought . . . you were cool.

Man 2: [At the word “cool,” Man 2’s eyes widen and he frowns. He steps out of bus stop, addressing the audience painfully.]

            I’ve seen men

            and I’ve seen boys.

            Looked at them

            with their securities

            and their self-assured

            friendships.

            I would break my back

            to be!

            I stand between

            a young boy

            and the ageless ocean,

            snapping my strings

            to be a part of

            something.

            All I am

            is a man-child

            who looks cool

            but simply is not.

            [Goes back to bus stop, eyes still wide and sad.]

            [To Man 1] Sorry.

            [Pause]

Man 1: It’s alright. Just making conversation.

Man 2: [Looks at Man 1, eyes wide. Then turns back, now facing forward. The first time the men look at each other in the play.]

Man 1: [Steps out of bus stop, addressing audience painfully, slowly.]

            I just wanted

            to make a good

            first impression.

            [Goes back to bus stop, deeply saddened. Man 2’s eyes still wide and angry.]

End

Cooking!

Hey y'all.

Thank you to those of you who are still sticking it out and following this miserable excuse for a blog.  Seeing as this is my first post of 2011, Feliz Ano Nuevo!   I hope you did something awesome to ring in the new year.

So on to the topic of the day.  Back when I lived in the other America, cooking was I-guess-kind-of-not-really part of my life.  I chopped vegetables occasionally, or baked cookies with friends, but I was really more into the eating side of things.  Well, I'm still certainly into the eating side of things, but since moving to Urubamba, I've come to love cooking for many reasons.

My friends and I first began cooking in Urubamba because of the weekly ProWorld tradition of volunteer dinners at the office.  It was shortly thereafter that the five of us discovered our mutual love for good food.  As we worked together, week after week, to brainstorm, plan, shop, and prepare all kinds of meals,  we became closer and closer as a group.  Our culinary adventures soon branched out beyond volunteer dinners, and we soon found ourselves at the office several times a week, cooking whatever tasty treat we'd been craving.  What I love about cooking, especially in our situation (living in Urubamba and cooking in the ProWorld kitchen) is that improvisation is in order, or hay que improvisar.  In other words, maybe we don't have a mixing bowl, but a plastic jug works just fine.  Or maybe cottage cheese isn't available in the market, but queso andino (Andean cheese) gets the job done.  We understand the beauty of creative collaboration, and our flexibility has allowed us to make some fabulous dishes, from quiche to blueberry crumble cake to Indian samosas to latkes.  I think we would all agree that our shared culinary interest has been a catalyst for the extremely positive group dynamic among the five of us Princeton kids.

Speaking of cooking as a catalyst for positive relationships, I have to say that it's also been a wonderful asset to the cultural integration process.  I'm often out of the house right before meals, which is when my host mom or dad is usually cooking, but this week, I was fortunate to have some special time with my host family on multiple occasions.  On Tuesday, we finally decided to open the Indian curry packets my real parents sent me from the U.S.  My host family hadn't ever tried Indian food, and we'd been meaning to prepare an Indian meal for a long time.  For most of my experience thus far, I've been on the questioning-and-learning end of things, as I've tried new customs and traditions.  But it was really cool to see how interested my host family was as I shared an important part of my own culture.  They wanted to know all the details, from the names of the spices to the proper manner of arranging the food on the plate!  And even though eating the foods I haven't eaten in months brought me a little nostalgia, I felt right at home.

On Thursday, it was my host grandfather's birthday, so my family and I went to Cusco to celebrate.  My host mom and I prepared most of the food, and she taught me many interesting things about Peruvian-style cooking.  We made rocoto relleno souffle, (stuffed peppers baked with cheese and a milky sauce on top) roast chicken, pesto pasta, baked camote (sweet potato), baked potato, apple salad, rice pudding, and tequenos (cheese wrapped in wan-tons).  It was a lovely spread, but what was most lovely was the chance to chat and learn new things with my host mom.

Obviously, I've learned to love cooking for many reasons, but I think the absolute best thing about cooking is that it never gets old.  Of course, there are those recipes that no one gets tired of, no matter how many times you make them.  But if that's not the case, there are always ways to make it interesting and different, to learn what works and what doesn't.  And best of all, when you're cooking with people whose company you enjoy, it's simply fun.

Here are some photos of our greatest éxitos in the kitchen.

Getting ready to whip those mangos into mango lassi

Spinach and mushroom pizza!

Vegetable curry!  Andean cheese substituted for paneer

Rocotos rellenos ready for frying

Well that's all.
Peace.

Food for Thought

Hey y'all.

Clearly I suck at blogging.  It's been a busy month of December...a trip to Trujillo and Lima and the beach (!), teaching English in Chicon, working on a world map mural in a school in Media Luna, planning for the start of our projects in 2011, and lots of cooking!

Recently, at a Friday session, we revisited several different cultural spectra which we had discussed during orientation.  I thought it was really interesting to reflect on my time in Peru so far with those spectra in mind.  I am by no means in a position to speak for Peruvian society, but I have some interesting anecdotes that provide indications one way or the other.  Maybe you'll find it interesting too.

The Concept of Self: This spectrum ranges from Individualist to Collectivist.  In societies that lie to the Individualist side of things, people identify primarily with self, seeking to meet personal needs before those of a group.   The philosophy is that looking after and taking after oneself, being self-sufficient, guarantees the well being of the group.  On the collectivist side, societies believe that one finds identity in his or her membership/role in a group.  The survival and success of the group is believed to ensure the well-being of the individual...so one considers the needs and feelings of others, and by default, those of him or herself.

While teaching English in Chicon, we had the kids partake in various activities in which individuals had to do something in front of the group; usually it was as simple as asking students to answer questions individually.   But whenever we'd call on a student, and that student took more than a second to answer, the others around him or her would immediately start helping.  "No les ayuden!" we'd say at least a hundred times a day [don't help!], but our efforts were more or less for naught.  It just seemed natural that the students should work together to come up with the answers.  Could this be a collectivist trait?  Maybe.

We also took a glance at the Concept of Time spectrum.  This one ranges from Monochronic to Polychronic.  In Monochronic societies, time is perceived as a limited, quantifiable thing, which must be worked around through schedules, deadlines, etc.  Time is given and people must change to suit its demands.  Polychronic societies, on the other hand, believe that time is adjusted to meet the needs of the people.  There is the feeling that there is always more time; you are never too busy.

Well I have to say that I certainly feel that sense of "you-are-never-too-busy" here in Peru.  In reality, I am pretty busy.  My schedule is full, mas o menos, and sometimes I don't have enough time to do everything I want to do.  But I have the perpetual feeling that "there's time!"  And I find that to be extremely liberating.  Unlike my life in high school, I don't find myself constantly rushing around to finish what needs to be done.  It's like I said in one of my first posts upon arriving to Urubamba.  Tranquiiiiilo.  


Considering we're on the brink of implementing our new projects (women's groups and English classes in both communities, as per the results of the vote), I remind myself how important it is to keep these spectra in mind, in order to prevent imposition and preserve cultural values.   Alex brought up a great point in our discussion that really got me thinking.   As part of our community diagnostic, we conducted "focus group" discussion sessions, to which we invited members of the communities whom we'd deemed "positive deviators."  They were people who had done something particularly credible, like sending all of their children to college or starting their own business.  We thought it would be helpful to get their opinions on what projects would be best for the community.  But as Alex noted, we were using a Western definition of "positive deviators."  Would the Peruvian definition be in accordance?  Positive deviance is, after all, somewhat subjective.  It depends on your perspective, which depends on your values.  Which often vary by culture.  If nothing else, these values are what I am most eager to understand about Peruvian culture...and really any culture I have the opportunity to conocer (get to know).

Food for thought.

Peace.