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.
22.12.10
1.12.10
Teaching English
Hey y'all.
Last week, Rachel and I started teaching English to a sixth grade class at the Chicon primaria. It's a short course--just until mid-December--that is just one of the mini-projects we're working on until January, when we begin our heavy duty projects. I'm astounded at how much I've learned after having taught for only a week.
The day before Rachel and I were scheduled to begin, we had no clue what we were doing. Steph sent us a lot of helpful materials for teaching English--lesson plans, tips, games, puzzles, activities--but we had no idea where to start. We had only a vague idea of the students' current level ("basic," we'd been told). Despite that, we threw together a lesson plan, which was actually more of a diagnostic in disguise. We'd both had a good deal of experience teaching, but strictly violin, and strictly individual lessons. We were therefore pretty nervous as we entered the classroom for the first time. But as we soon found out, we were more prepared than we thought. The students didn't know much English at all. But they did have what I think is the key ingredient to a successful learning experience: ganas a aprender (enthusiasm for learning).
The first day was smooth sailing. We taught for just over an hour, and didn't get much farther than halfway through our lesson plan. But when it was over, the director dropped the bomb and asked us if we could teach the full day--English from 8 to 1. We couldn't say no. So here began the challenge: figuring out how to hold the attention of 11-14 year olds while teaching the same subject for three blocks. Here's what I've learned.
That does it for the time being.
Last week, Rachel and I started teaching English to a sixth grade class at the Chicon primaria. It's a short course--just until mid-December--that is just one of the mini-projects we're working on until January, when we begin our heavy duty projects. I'm astounded at how much I've learned after having taught for only a week.
The day before Rachel and I were scheduled to begin, we had no clue what we were doing. Steph sent us a lot of helpful materials for teaching English--lesson plans, tips, games, puzzles, activities--but we had no idea where to start. We had only a vague idea of the students' current level ("basic," we'd been told). Despite that, we threw together a lesson plan, which was actually more of a diagnostic in disguise. We'd both had a good deal of experience teaching, but strictly violin, and strictly individual lessons. We were therefore pretty nervous as we entered the classroom for the first time. But as we soon found out, we were more prepared than we thought. The students didn't know much English at all. But they did have what I think is the key ingredient to a successful learning experience: ganas a aprender (enthusiasm for learning).
The first day was smooth sailing. We taught for just over an hour, and didn't get much farther than halfway through our lesson plan. But when it was over, the director dropped the bomb and asked us if we could teach the full day--English from 8 to 1. We couldn't say no. So here began the challenge: figuring out how to hold the attention of 11-14 year olds while teaching the same subject for three blocks. Here's what I've learned.
- I think one thing Rachel and I do well is that our plans are pretty rough and leave room for deviance. Sometimes the best ideas come to you on the spot. You can plan for hours, but you never know just what to expect, especially when you're teaching kids.
- It's imperative to vary the lesson plan. We do best when we have a nice balance of review, written independent work, interactive 'lecture,' and games.
- In my humble opinion, the hardest obstacle a Spanish speaker must overcome when trying to learn English is pronunciation/reading. In Spanish, each letter has basically one sound and one sound only. Also, as they say, Spanish words utilize natural letter sounds. For this reason, reading English is extremely difficult. Many letters have multiple sounds, or no sound at all. And even though there are rules, such as "magic E causes the vowel to say its name," they are as often void as they are valid. But in an effort to aid pronunciation, we dove right into the alphabet, especially vowel/consonant combinations, and have been focusing heavily on this topic. It's especially important to me that students learn to read and pronounce English, because this skill will allow those who have ganas to advance on their own in the future.
- Teaching is exhausting work. If you thought high school was a little too much at one time, try teaching for a full day.
- Peruvian schoolkids are nuts for singing. So far, we've sung 'I Like to Eat Apples and Bananas," "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes," the alphabet song, and the Hokey Pokey. If you're ever teaching here, be sure to incorporate songs. I also bring my violin, which the kids go a little crazy over.
- I've noticed that the students in my class are really detail-oriented. This is an asset in many respects; for example, most of what they write in their notebooks is neatly and uniformly organized. But at the same time, their attention to detail can be a hindrance. Today, after reviewing our unit on description words (such as tall, fat, intelligent, clean, etc.), we had the students play a modified Pictionary--meaning they had to choose a word and draw clues on the board for their classmates to guess. Rachel and I were shocked at how many times many of them erased and started over after drawing merely a head. I think they were so preoccupied with trying to make their people look perfect that they neglected to add the features distinctive to the particular adjective. Therefore, there were many 'tall' people who looked just like the 'clean' people who looked just like the 'intelligent' people. They seemed to have trouble thinking of other ways to portray the adjectives...for example, drawing a person next to a tree to indicate "tall."
- The kids give us a run for our money, but they are adorable and I am enjoying the experience.
That does it for the time being.
Peace.
22.11.10
Exciting Happenings
Hey y'all.
It's been quite an eventful past few days. Last Monday, we began our much anticipated planning/processing week in which we had one very important goal: come up with a final list of feasible development project options for each community, Media Luna and Chicon. These options were to be presented to the communities at their respective asambleas, where they would take a vote to make the decision. The combination of reflection, discussion, planning, evaluation, and freshly cooked breakfast made it a great week at the ProWorld office...not to mention the sheer excitement that comes from imagining what the projects might look like when they finally hit full swing.
On the first day, we began by discussing the real meaning of sustainable development. Steph presented us with several different approaches to defining the term, including that of the Peace Corps and ProWorld. What we can say with certainty is that in general, sustainable development requires a combination of charity [straight-up donations], education [teaching and sharing so that community members may empower themselves], and advocacy [involving government and the public]. What's unclear to me, however--and also unsettling--is that sustainable development projects are based on the assumption that there is a need in a community/individual/organization/whatever. But needs are hard--perhaps impossible--to define; it's a fine line between needs and wants. And what's more, different cultures perceive needs and wants on different levels. The bottom line, I think, is that this makes it difficult to judge where development is necessary--and how much. Obviously, I don't have the answers. I guess it's just another thing to keep in mind as we begin our projects.
Anyway, to bring you out of that depressing abyss into which I just led you, good news! We ran the voting in both communities this weekend...successfully! In case you're wondering how we ran the vote: for each community, we came up with several project options in two categories, infrastructure and education/training. We created posters with the names of the projects and envelopes taped on for each respective project. Each community member was given five beans for the education/training projects and two for the infrastructure project. We asked them to demonstrate their priorities by distributing the beans however they thought appropriate.
To my surprise, the vote was an absolute éxito (success) in Media Luna. The citizens filed into the community house in the most orderly of manners, cast their votes at one of our makeshift polling stations, and filed out. There were a few problemitas, especially with the Quechua-only speakers, but for the most part, everything went as planned.
In Chicon, the vote was a different story. To begin with, the community didn't seem very focused when we were giving the project descriptions...and they also may have been swayed by some lobbyists who stood up to give their opinions on which projects should be chosen. When the voting began, they went to polling stations at random, often collaborating when trying to decide which projects to vote for. It was a little chaotic. But charmingly informal. Which is how Chicon is in general. And so, regardless of whether the vote was the way we envisioned it, it was still an éxito. Our objective was to let the community members' voices be heard. And if their style is a little less democratic, then so be it.
Though the votes are in, there is still a little finalizing to do, but I'll announce the winners soon.
The other exciting weekend activity: this Friday, I performed at my first real gig in Urubamba. My band, Son Tumbao, was booked to play at Kai, a hip, art-loving cafe in "downtown" 'bamba. The place filled up pretty quickly, and it was a ton of fun. A lot of our music is more on the salsa end of things, and it was truly exhilarating to see people gettin' down on the dance floor just a few feet away from me as I played. I never really had that experience in my mostly-jazz past. When people are dancing, it's almost like they're playing along with you; you feel this deep connection with the audience that you just can't get when they're sitting down. It was bien chévere. I can't wait to play more with Son Tumbao!
That's all for the present.
Peace.
It's been quite an eventful past few days. Last Monday, we began our much anticipated planning/processing week in which we had one very important goal: come up with a final list of feasible development project options for each community, Media Luna and Chicon. These options were to be presented to the communities at their respective asambleas, where they would take a vote to make the decision. The combination of reflection, discussion, planning, evaluation, and freshly cooked breakfast made it a great week at the ProWorld office...not to mention the sheer excitement that comes from imagining what the projects might look like when they finally hit full swing.
On the first day, we began by discussing the real meaning of sustainable development. Steph presented us with several different approaches to defining the term, including that of the Peace Corps and ProWorld. What we can say with certainty is that in general, sustainable development requires a combination of charity [straight-up donations], education [teaching and sharing so that community members may empower themselves], and advocacy [involving government and the public]. What's unclear to me, however--and also unsettling--is that sustainable development projects are based on the assumption that there is a need in a community/individual/organization/whatever. But needs are hard--perhaps impossible--to define; it's a fine line between needs and wants. And what's more, different cultures perceive needs and wants on different levels. The bottom line, I think, is that this makes it difficult to judge where development is necessary--and how much. Obviously, I don't have the answers. I guess it's just another thing to keep in mind as we begin our projects.
Anyway, to bring you out of that depressing abyss into which I just led you, good news! We ran the voting in both communities this weekend...successfully! In case you're wondering how we ran the vote: for each community, we came up with several project options in two categories, infrastructure and education/training. We created posters with the names of the projects and envelopes taped on for each respective project. Each community member was given five beans for the education/training projects and two for the infrastructure project. We asked them to demonstrate their priorities by distributing the beans however they thought appropriate.
To my surprise, the vote was an absolute éxito (success) in Media Luna. The citizens filed into the community house in the most orderly of manners, cast their votes at one of our makeshift polling stations, and filed out. There were a few problemitas, especially with the Quechua-only speakers, but for the most part, everything went as planned.
In Chicon, the vote was a different story. To begin with, the community didn't seem very focused when we were giving the project descriptions...and they also may have been swayed by some lobbyists who stood up to give their opinions on which projects should be chosen. When the voting began, they went to polling stations at random, often collaborating when trying to decide which projects to vote for. It was a little chaotic. But charmingly informal. Which is how Chicon is in general. And so, regardless of whether the vote was the way we envisioned it, it was still an éxito. Our objective was to let the community members' voices be heard. And if their style is a little less democratic, then so be it.
Though the votes are in, there is still a little finalizing to do, but I'll announce the winners soon.
The other exciting weekend activity: this Friday, I performed at my first real gig in Urubamba. My band, Son Tumbao, was booked to play at Kai, a hip, art-loving cafe in "downtown" 'bamba. The place filled up pretty quickly, and it was a ton of fun. A lot of our music is more on the salsa end of things, and it was truly exhilarating to see people gettin' down on the dance floor just a few feet away from me as I played. I never really had that experience in my mostly-jazz past. When people are dancing, it's almost like they're playing along with you; you feel this deep connection with the audience that you just can't get when they're sitting down. It was bien chévere. I can't wait to play more with Son Tumbao!
That's all for the present.
Peace.
16.11.10
My Other Blog
Hey y'all.
I guess one blog isn't enough. I also update my ProWorld GoAbroad blog approximately once a month. Those posts are a little deeper and more reflective, so you may or may not want to check them out. In any case, I've just posted a new one. So I'll give you the link in case you want to torture yourself.
http://myproworld.goabroad.net/DivyaFarias
Scroll down to "my travel journals."
That is all. Peace.
I guess one blog isn't enough. I also update my ProWorld GoAbroad blog approximately once a month. Those posts are a little deeper and more reflective, so you may or may not want to check them out. In any case, I've just posted a new one. So I'll give you the link in case you want to torture yourself.
http://myproworld.goabroad.net/DivyaFarias
Scroll down to "my travel journals."
That is all. Peace.
11.11.10
El Aniversario de Urubamba
Hey y'all.
This past Tuesday, the 9th of November, was the (political) anniversary of Urubamba. Accordingly, parades, music, a día feriado (no school or work), and much merriment ensued. What seemed like the entire town and its surrounding communities gathered in the Plaza de Armas to delight in the festivities. It's customary for groups of students, often marching bands, from all of the surrounding schools to march around the plaza in uniform. The mayor and other important people greet the kids as they walk by. Too bad we didn't march for Princeton. Here are some pictures!
This past Tuesday, the 9th of November, was the (political) anniversary of Urubamba. Accordingly, parades, music, a día feriado (no school or work), and much merriment ensued. What seemed like the entire town and its surrounding communities gathered in the Plaza de Armas to delight in the festivities. It's customary for groups of students, often marching bands, from all of the surrounding schools to march around the plaza in uniform. The mayor and other important people greet the kids as they walk by. Too bad we didn't march for Princeton. Here are some pictures!
 |
| A school marching band |
 |
| Yes, their rifles are pencils. |
 |
| Muchisima gente! [A ton of people!] |
 |
| These more ethnic-looking costumes took over the plaza the day before. |
 |
| The mayor of Urubamba salutes a passing band. |
2.11.10
Viva la Musica
Hey y'all.
Exciting news! As some of you (well, probably all of you, unless there are some creepers following my blog) know, I am a musician and one of the things I'd really been hoping to do in Peru was to conocer local musicians and their music. I am delighted to tell you that this is actually happening! I actually have a few new musical projects just beginning. Here's one of them:
Son Tumbao:
A few weeks ago, my Spanish teacher, Reyner, introduced me to a local salsa/jazz/rock/fusion/other group called Son Tumbao. After something of a casual try-out, they invited me to come back to rehearse with them. At home in the U.S., I've had many opportunities to play with people from other countries, but never had I rehearsed with a group who didn't speak English. I was eager to test out the well-worn saying that music is a "universal language."
It was only a matter of minutes before we were all playing together. (The band consists of: Jesus vocals/conga/drums, Ismael on guitar, and Jazz on bass.) It was so refreshing to be playing with a band for the first time in several weeks. I've now been to a few rehearsals, and I'm looking forward to performing with Son Tumbao at some local venues in Urubamba. It's so exciting to be engaging in a new type of cultural immersion!
Though my Spanish is now at a level where I can communicate pretty effectively, I soon realized that I am kind of at loss for musical vocabulary in Spanish. This can make for a little confusion during a rehearsal, when asking/answering questions like "where are we starting?" or "major or minor?" or even "Eb?" After a few rehearsals, I am slowly picking up the terminology. But since there is sometimes a bit of a language barrier, listening is, for me, perhaps more important than it's ever been. Not only do I have to memorize the unfamiliar forms (the form of a tune is the sequence of distinctly different sections) very quickly, but I also have to listen for the Latin rhythms so I can play in good taste.
During our Bridge Year orientation at Princeton, we talked about experiential learning, which happens a lot when you're getting to know a different culture. It's a process of observation, hypothesis-forming, hypothesis-testing, and evaluation. In other words, you notice other people doing something, and you're not sure exactly what it means, but you make a guess and then try to imitate it as best you can. And then you reflect upon how well you did. I think my experiences with Son Tumbao thus far embody that concept perfectly, since I learn most of the music by ear. Which is something I'm really enjoying as well...there's something about learning everything without charts that feels authentic.
I'll keep you updated on how my progress goes with Son Tumbao. Hopefully we'll get some sort of performance thing started in Urubamba.
That's all for now.
Peace.
Exciting news! As some of you (well, probably all of you, unless there are some creepers following my blog) know, I am a musician and one of the things I'd really been hoping to do in Peru was to conocer local musicians and their music. I am delighted to tell you that this is actually happening! I actually have a few new musical projects just beginning. Here's one of them:
Son Tumbao:
A few weeks ago, my Spanish teacher, Reyner, introduced me to a local salsa/jazz/rock/fusion/other group called Son Tumbao. After something of a casual try-out, they invited me to come back to rehearse with them. At home in the U.S., I've had many opportunities to play with people from other countries, but never had I rehearsed with a group who didn't speak English. I was eager to test out the well-worn saying that music is a "universal language."
It was only a matter of minutes before we were all playing together. (The band consists of: Jesus vocals/conga/drums, Ismael on guitar, and Jazz on bass.) It was so refreshing to be playing with a band for the first time in several weeks. I've now been to a few rehearsals, and I'm looking forward to performing with Son Tumbao at some local venues in Urubamba. It's so exciting to be engaging in a new type of cultural immersion!
Though my Spanish is now at a level where I can communicate pretty effectively, I soon realized that I am kind of at loss for musical vocabulary in Spanish. This can make for a little confusion during a rehearsal, when asking/answering questions like "where are we starting?" or "major or minor?" or even "Eb?" After a few rehearsals, I am slowly picking up the terminology. But since there is sometimes a bit of a language barrier, listening is, for me, perhaps more important than it's ever been. Not only do I have to memorize the unfamiliar forms (the form of a tune is the sequence of distinctly different sections) very quickly, but I also have to listen for the Latin rhythms so I can play in good taste.
During our Bridge Year orientation at Princeton, we talked about experiential learning, which happens a lot when you're getting to know a different culture. It's a process of observation, hypothesis-forming, hypothesis-testing, and evaluation. In other words, you notice other people doing something, and you're not sure exactly what it means, but you make a guess and then try to imitate it as best you can. And then you reflect upon how well you did. I think my experiences with Son Tumbao thus far embody that concept perfectly, since I learn most of the music by ear. Which is something I'm really enjoying as well...there's something about learning everything without charts that feels authentic.
I'll keep you updated on how my progress goes with Son Tumbao. Hopefully we'll get some sort of performance thing started in Urubamba.
That's all for now.
Peace.
27.10.10
¡Provecho!
Hey y'all.
So what I realized is that I'm long overdue for a blog entry devoted to entirely to...food! (Well, to be honest, I'm long overdue for any type of blog entry.) As my Princeton cohort and I have discovered, perhaps the most difficult part of cultural immersion, especially when you're living with a host family and eat the majority of your meals with them, is adjusting your diet. I've learned through the process of developing a Peruvian stomach that "oh-yeah-no-problem-I-eat-anything" is a different concept when you're living in a different country for an extended period of time.
I'm going to give you a little tour of my savory adventures thus far. First, an average day...
Desayuno is relatively simple and usually consists of Quaker [watered-down oatmeal that you drink more than eat], a type of jugo [My host mom makes it fresh. It can be anything from apple to mango to papaya to orange to a mix. The main source of difference is that the Peruvians like their juice warm!], and pan (bread) with butter, jam, or manjarblanco (caramel spread). One thing I can't complain about is that cake, when there are leftovers, is sometimes also acceptable for breakfast. This is especially nice the day after your birthday.
Almuerzo can be an elaborate affair. It's not uncommon for the entire family to regresar a casa for a few hours to eat lunch together. This happens in my host family. Typically, lunch consists of two courses, a sopa and a segundo. The sopa, or soup, usually contains vegetables, possibly meat, and possibly noodles, rice, or quinoa (Andean grain). The segunda is quite often some variation of rice, meat (fried or boiled), and potatoes. Pasta, or tallerin, sometimes substitutes for rice. What can be frustrating is that usually the person who cooks serves everyone straight from the pot on the stove. This means you don't really get to determine your own portion size. Which means you often find yourself bastante lleno after lunch. Again, it's traditional to drink warm juice along with lunch. Sometimes, my family has a little postre, or dessert, after lunch. It's common to have gelatina (Jell-O) or mazamorra, a thick gel/pudding thing made out of fruit.
Cena is less formal, but still a family occasion, at least in my host family. Typically, we have something that's quick and easy to cook, i.e. French fries (home-made), rice, and fried chicken. What's interesting: never have we had lunch leftovers for dinner. Back at home in the States, my family would eat the same thing for two, three, or sometimes four meals. But in Peru, it appears that people tend to shy away from refrigerating and reheating. After dinner, the family sticks around to have algo caliente, meaning tea or coffee. Or perhaps hot chocolate.
Just before we start eating, and right before we get up from the table, we follow Peruvian tradition by saying "provecho!" or some variation of the expression, such as "buen provecho" or "provecho con todos." It's similar to bon apetit in French and means something along the lines of "may this food keep you in good health and good spirits." Usually, one person will be the first to say it, and the rest of the table politely repeats in response. Whenever I forget to say it, my three-year-old host sister makes sure to remind me until I do.
In addition to my typical daily meals, I've gotten to sample some delicious postres at various locations in Urubamba, Cusco, and Arequipa. For those of you foodies, I'm going to include some pictures of my faves. Enjoy!
P.S. The Princeton Bridge Year Website recently published our first Group Update from the Field! I suggest you check it out! Updates from Peru You can also go back to the Updates archives to check out what the PBY students have been doing in Ghana, India, and Serbia.
That's it for now.
So what I realized is that I'm long overdue for a blog entry devoted to entirely to...food! (Well, to be honest, I'm long overdue for any type of blog entry.) As my Princeton cohort and I have discovered, perhaps the most difficult part of cultural immersion, especially when you're living with a host family and eat the majority of your meals with them, is adjusting your diet. I've learned through the process of developing a Peruvian stomach that "oh-yeah-no-problem-I-eat-anything" is a different concept when you're living in a different country for an extended period of time.
I'm going to give you a little tour of my savory adventures thus far. First, an average day...
Desayuno is relatively simple and usually consists of Quaker [watered-down oatmeal that you drink more than eat], a type of jugo [My host mom makes it fresh. It can be anything from apple to mango to papaya to orange to a mix. The main source of difference is that the Peruvians like their juice warm!], and pan (bread) with butter, jam, or manjarblanco (caramel spread). One thing I can't complain about is that cake, when there are leftovers, is sometimes also acceptable for breakfast. This is especially nice the day after your birthday.
Almuerzo can be an elaborate affair. It's not uncommon for the entire family to regresar a casa for a few hours to eat lunch together. This happens in my host family. Typically, lunch consists of two courses, a sopa and a segundo. The sopa, or soup, usually contains vegetables, possibly meat, and possibly noodles, rice, or quinoa (Andean grain). The segunda is quite often some variation of rice, meat (fried or boiled), and potatoes. Pasta, or tallerin, sometimes substitutes for rice. What can be frustrating is that usually the person who cooks serves everyone straight from the pot on the stove. This means you don't really get to determine your own portion size. Which means you often find yourself bastante lleno after lunch. Again, it's traditional to drink warm juice along with lunch. Sometimes, my family has a little postre, or dessert, after lunch. It's common to have gelatina (Jell-O) or mazamorra, a thick gel/pudding thing made out of fruit.
Cena is less formal, but still a family occasion, at least in my host family. Typically, we have something that's quick and easy to cook, i.e. French fries (home-made), rice, and fried chicken. What's interesting: never have we had lunch leftovers for dinner. Back at home in the States, my family would eat the same thing for two, three, or sometimes four meals. But in Peru, it appears that people tend to shy away from refrigerating and reheating. After dinner, the family sticks around to have algo caliente, meaning tea or coffee. Or perhaps hot chocolate.
Just before we start eating, and right before we get up from the table, we follow Peruvian tradition by saying "provecho!" or some variation of the expression, such as "buen provecho" or "provecho con todos." It's similar to bon apetit in French and means something along the lines of "may this food keep you in good health and good spirits." Usually, one person will be the first to say it, and the rest of the table politely repeats in response. Whenever I forget to say it, my three-year-old host sister makes sure to remind me until I do.
In addition to my typical daily meals, I've gotten to sample some delicious postres at various locations in Urubamba, Cusco, and Arequipa. For those of you foodies, I'm going to include some pictures of my faves. Enjoy!
 |
| Chocolate balls with a bit of liquor inside |
 |
| flaky layered pastry with manjarblanca inside |
 |
| cachitos |
 |
| these are called empanadas de something...they taste like shortbread |
 |
| pastel helado |
 |
| mmmmm |
P.S. The Princeton Bridge Year Website recently published our first Group Update from the Field! I suggest you check it out! Updates from Peru You can also go back to the Updates archives to check out what the PBY students have been doing in Ghana, India, and Serbia.
That's it for now.
13.10.10
Un Dia en la Vida
Hey y'all.
Before I start, I would like to point out, for those of you doubters, that I have indeed updated my previous post with photos! Surprise! I implore you to check them out.
So I had quite an interesting adventure this past weekend. As I've probably explained before, the main component of our service here in Peru involves designing and implementing development projects in two local communities, Media Luna and Chicon. Though we have been working on various diagnostics over the past few weeks, through which we've been getting to know the campesinos, we realized that we were far from understanding what day-to-day life is like for Media Lunans and Chiconians. Therefore, Stephanie organized a "Day in the Life," in which we would each be paired with a person in one of these communities. Our task was not just to observe and jot down everything in our notebooks, but to actively participate in all aspects of this person's daily tasks. Though we barely scratched the surface--we only spent 24 hours in the campo after all--I still feel like I learned so much.
When I first arrived at my host family's house, it was only about seven in the evening. It was already pitch dark, and they'd already eaten dinner and put the kids to bed. My host mom, Goya, and host dad, Carlos, were poring over an interesting-looking milling machine in their tienda, or store, which is part of their house. As Goya explained to me, they use this machine to grind corn into flour, which is the first step in making chicha, the famous corn beer of the Peruvian countryside. Unfortunately, the corn hadn't had time to dry before they'd run it through the machine, and it kept getting stuck. After nearly an hour, they managed to grind all of the remaining corn. There was still work to be done that night though. Goya carried a sack of flour out to a patio-type-area, where an enormous cauldron was being heated over a fire. She poured the flour into the already boiling water, and stirred. We chatted a little, and she told me how she wished she had a cocina mejorada (cleaner-burning stove from ProPeru) for her chicha as well, because the smoke gives her a lot of chest pain. The next morning, I learned just how elaborate chica-making is. It involves boiling and re-boiling, straining and re-straining. And a lot of water. Here are some pictures.
Speaking of water...unfortunately, there have been some major piping problems in Chicon, and the community is currently without running water. This means that the families have to make frequent trips to the stream to collect water for daily activities. As Goya said many times during our time together, "nos falta mucho sin agua"...we struggle a lot without water.
On Saturday morning, I literally woke up to the sound of the rooster crowing. Carrying a pile of feed, I accompanied Carlos to the chacra, where we fed the bulls. I hadn't realized before how time consuming animal maintenance can be, especially if the field isn't right next to the house. Later that day, I returned to the chacra with Goya to feed the pigs. (The leftover corn pulp that results from the repeated siftings of the chicha makes a convenient pig slop. I liked how nothing was wasted.) And in the afternoon, we returned once more to take the bulls out to graze.
The bulk of the rest of my time in Chicon was spent in the kitchen. In the morning, Goya and I worked on preparing lunch. We made fried fish, rice, lentils, and potatoes, which reminded me fondly of Indian cuisine. Just like chica-making, cooking is can be quite difficult without running water. It was hard to wash our hands properly, and we had to keep going back to the stream to get more water. In terms of the actual cooking, Goya smiled politely when she noticed my shortcomings. It's not that easy to dice potatoes in mid-air, sans cutting board. Goya did it expertly, of course. Anyway, after a morning of constant activity, we finally sat down to enjoy our lunch, along with her two sons, Carlitos and Josue. It was absolutely delicious. But when we were done, there was more work to do.
I was lucky enough to come to Chicon on the day of Goya's grandmother's birthday. In the campo, 'birthday' is synonymous with 'feast.' All day, Goya's mom and aunts had been cooking up a storm, and after lunch we went to her grandmother's house to join in. Several cuyes (guinea pigs) were roasting over the fire. One woman was dousing stuffed rocotos (peppers filled with peas and carrots) in batter and frying them on the stove. Another peeled potatoes, while another tended to the spaghetti. I chopped onions, or tried. After a long time, the feast was ready, and I had the pleasure of sitting down with the whole family for a traditional campesino birthday meal. It was wonderful. When I had finished most of my food, I took out my water bottle to wash it down. At once, everyone in the room called out in alarm. "You can't drink cold water after you eat!" they cried. "Please, drink some matecito (hot tea) instead!" I sheepishly downed my water anyway. I found out later that their philosophy comes from the fact that digestion is slow at high altitudes. Apparently, drinking cold water slows it further. Whether it's true or not, I have no idea, but I was just fine after drinking my water.
I learned a lot about rural life during my stay in Chicon, but most importantly, I got an idea of just how hard the people work. I remember during a tour in Cusco, the tour guide pointed out that many of the Inca figures have oversized hands and feet, and this is to symbolize the fact that they work so hard. This is an Andean concept that definitely still exists. There's no doubt about it: these people work hard. And though Goya said she was cansada (tired) many times during the day, she always said it with a smile on her face.
Before I start, I would like to point out, for those of you doubters, that I have indeed updated my previous post with photos! Surprise! I implore you to check them out.
So I had quite an interesting adventure this past weekend. As I've probably explained before, the main component of our service here in Peru involves designing and implementing development projects in two local communities, Media Luna and Chicon. Though we have been working on various diagnostics over the past few weeks, through which we've been getting to know the campesinos, we realized that we were far from understanding what day-to-day life is like for Media Lunans and Chiconians. Therefore, Stephanie organized a "Day in the Life," in which we would each be paired with a person in one of these communities. Our task was not just to observe and jot down everything in our notebooks, but to actively participate in all aspects of this person's daily tasks. Though we barely scratched the surface--we only spent 24 hours in the campo after all--I still feel like I learned so much.
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| Street view |
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| One of Goya's chicha pots |
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| We used this gourd to scoop the liquid into the bucket, then into the sieve below. |
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| The nest-looking part is made of something called paja. Goya created it in the basket. |
Speaking of water...unfortunately, there have been some major piping problems in Chicon, and the community is currently without running water. This means that the families have to make frequent trips to the stream to collect water for daily activities. As Goya said many times during our time together, "nos falta mucho sin agua"...we struggle a lot without water.
On Saturday morning, I literally woke up to the sound of the rooster crowing. Carrying a pile of feed, I accompanied Carlos to the chacra, where we fed the bulls. I hadn't realized before how time consuming animal maintenance can be, especially if the field isn't right next to the house. Later that day, I returned to the chacra with Goya to feed the pigs. (The leftover corn pulp that results from the repeated siftings of the chicha makes a convenient pig slop. I liked how nothing was wasted.) And in the afternoon, we returned once more to take the bulls out to graze.
 |
| The feed. The bull. |
The bulk of the rest of my time in Chicon was spent in the kitchen. In the morning, Goya and I worked on preparing lunch. We made fried fish, rice, lentils, and potatoes, which reminded me fondly of Indian cuisine. Just like chica-making, cooking is can be quite difficult without running water. It was hard to wash our hands properly, and we had to keep going back to the stream to get more water. In terms of the actual cooking, Goya smiled politely when she noticed my shortcomings. It's not that easy to dice potatoes in mid-air, sans cutting board. Goya did it expertly, of course. Anyway, after a morning of constant activity, we finally sat down to enjoy our lunch, along with her two sons, Carlitos and Josue. It was absolutely delicious. But when we were done, there was more work to do.
 |
| My meal of spaghetti, cuy, rocoto, and potato |
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| With my Chiconian family, and our abuelita |
I learned a lot about rural life during my stay in Chicon, but most importantly, I got an idea of just how hard the people work. I remember during a tour in Cusco, the tour guide pointed out that many of the Inca figures have oversized hands and feet, and this is to symbolize the fact that they work so hard. This is an Andean concept that definitely still exists. There's no doubt about it: these people work hard. And though Goya said she was cansada (tired) many times during the day, she always said it with a smile on her face.
4.10.10
My First Camping Trip
Hey y'all.
Whoops, it's been a while since I've blogged. My apologies to those of you who just can't get enough of this. Anyway, I have quite an interesting story to tell, so perhaps that will make up for my recent lack of activity. Though, as much as I hate to say it, I will once again have to post photo-less because I forgot to charge my camera before I left for the weekend! Stupid. I won't make any promises, in case they turn up empty again, but I will try really hard to mooch some lovely photos from my lovely friends.
So anyway, this past weekend, a ProWorld crew of 17 (the Princeton group, some volunteers, and most of the staff) loaded up the gear and got up bright and early on Saturday morning to tackle Pitusiray, a mountain near Calca. Legend has it that around this time each year, and only this time, it is possible to discern the shape of a puma from the shadow the mountain casts on the ground. In addition, the top of the mountain is a beautiful spot to camp, complete with a peaceful laguna for swimming. In hopes of realizing these attractions, our party gathered at the Urubamba terminal bright and early on Saturday morning, many of us (me included) quaking slightly at the thought of the five to six hour hike ahead.
As a pretty inexperienced hiker, I had little idea of what to expect. But I was surprised that though the hike was certainly very difficult, it was actually humanly possible. After seven exhausting uphill hours, we finally caught sight of what wasn't just a mirage. The laguna was absolutely gorgeous. A few of my brave constituents even stripped down for a quick swim! Eventually, we settled down, set up camp, and assigned ourselves to tents. We enjoyed a freshly-cooked meal of pasta and rocoto sauce as we watched the sunset from an altitude of 4200 meters. I can honestly say that I've never been that high in my entire life.
It got dark quickly, as it usually does in Peru, and we settled into our respective tents. I was sharing with the three other Princeton chicas. Slowly, as we drifted into a pseudo-sleep, the pitter-patter on top of the tent strengthened. We didn't think much of it, considering our tent was protected by a rain layer. Little by little, however, the side of the tent where I was sleeping got wetter and wetter, and I felt the occasional droplet of water on my head. Still, I thought nothing of it, and continued trying to sleep. Not too long after, my "sleep" was cut short as I realized I was surrounded by fabric. As I cried out in confusion, a wave of shock swept over the four of us as we discovered that our tent had collapsed! But that's not all: when Eleanor, our resident hiking expert, opened the tent flap to try to repair the damage, she called out "it's snowing!" And sure enough, there were a few centimeters of snow covering everything in sight. Snow?! We had thought we'd planned for everything.
Before long, most of the group had woken up, and we (after determining our tent beyond repair) quickly redistributed to the other tents, grateful for the body heat generated by even more cramped conditions. To be honest, it was a long miserable night of never-ending snowfall, teasingly strong wind, and a threatening thunderclap and lightening combo. But the view(s) in the morning made everything worth it. As we made our way down the mountain, we could see snow-capped moutains above and the pueblo of Calca down below. And two and a half somewhat painful hours later, we were back on the ground again.
Though my first camping night ever wasn't exactly fine and dandy, I would do it again. If you looked at the pictures, you probably know why.
Chao.
Photo credits: Alexandra Junn
Whoops, it's been a while since I've blogged. My apologies to those of you who just can't get enough of this. Anyway, I have quite an interesting story to tell, so perhaps that will make up for my recent lack of activity. Though, as much as I hate to say it, I will once again have to post photo-less because I forgot to charge my camera before I left for the weekend! Stupid. I won't make any promises, in case they turn up empty again, but I will try really hard to mooch some lovely photos from my lovely friends.
So anyway, this past weekend, a ProWorld crew of 17 (the Princeton group, some volunteers, and most of the staff) loaded up the gear and got up bright and early on Saturday morning to tackle Pitusiray, a mountain near Calca. Legend has it that around this time each year, and only this time, it is possible to discern the shape of a puma from the shadow the mountain casts on the ground. In addition, the top of the mountain is a beautiful spot to camp, complete with a peaceful laguna for swimming. In hopes of realizing these attractions, our party gathered at the Urubamba terminal bright and early on Saturday morning, many of us (me included) quaking slightly at the thought of the five to six hour hike ahead.
As a pretty inexperienced hiker, I had little idea of what to expect. But I was surprised that though the hike was certainly very difficult, it was actually humanly possible. After seven exhausting uphill hours, we finally caught sight of what wasn't just a mirage. The laguna was absolutely gorgeous. A few of my brave constituents even stripped down for a quick swim! Eventually, we settled down, set up camp, and assigned ourselves to tents. We enjoyed a freshly-cooked meal of pasta and rocoto sauce as we watched the sunset from an altitude of 4200 meters. I can honestly say that I've never been that high in my entire life.
 |
| Bringin' back the socks and sandals |
It got dark quickly, as it usually does in Peru, and we settled into our respective tents. I was sharing with the three other Princeton chicas. Slowly, as we drifted into a pseudo-sleep, the pitter-patter on top of the tent strengthened. We didn't think much of it, considering our tent was protected by a rain layer. Little by little, however, the side of the tent where I was sleeping got wetter and wetter, and I felt the occasional droplet of water on my head. Still, I thought nothing of it, and continued trying to sleep. Not too long after, my "sleep" was cut short as I realized I was surrounded by fabric. As I cried out in confusion, a wave of shock swept over the four of us as we discovered that our tent had collapsed! But that's not all: when Eleanor, our resident hiking expert, opened the tent flap to try to repair the damage, she called out "it's snowing!" And sure enough, there were a few centimeters of snow covering everything in sight. Snow?! We had thought we'd planned for everything.
 |
| The laguna |
Before long, most of the group had woken up, and we (after determining our tent beyond repair) quickly redistributed to the other tents, grateful for the body heat generated by even more cramped conditions. To be honest, it was a long miserable night of never-ending snowfall, teasingly strong wind, and a threatening thunderclap and lightening combo. But the view(s) in the morning made everything worth it. As we made our way down the mountain, we could see snow-capped moutains above and the pueblo of Calca down below. And two and a half somewhat painful hours later, we were back on the ground again.
Though my first camping night ever wasn't exactly fine and dandy, I would do it again. If you looked at the pictures, you probably know why.
Chao.
Photo credits: Alexandra Junn
23.9.10
Empezamos a Conocer Las Comunidades
Hey y'all.
This week was kind of "eye-opening" in the sense that we began to make our first real connections with los campesinos (country-dwellers). On Sunday, after spending the morning at Pisac, the Incan archaeological site/fabulous crafts market, we headed back up to Chicon to try, once again, meeting with the community leaders. Like Ober had (our Chiconian connection) told us, nearly the entire town was chilling at the cancha (field). As we became a part of the crowd of spectators, I was really impressed by the palpable feeling of community and togetherness. Children ran up and down the sidelines while their parents chatted and sipped freshly brewed chicha. We did manage to have a pretty informal chat with many of the community leaders, after which we were free to do what we wanted. We started a pick-up soccer game on the field and had a great time playing with the kids, who ranged in age from about five or six to about twenty. Afterwards, chaos (the good kind) erupted when we tried showing the kids (there were about thirty of them) some American group activities like elbow tag and the circle sit. As the sky darkened to pitch black, we finally decided it was time to take a combi home.
On Wednesday, I ventured into Chichubamba with Mecha, the ProPeru water filter coordinator, to check on the families who have already received filters. At first, I felt a little uncomfortable entering people's homes and standing awkwardly around the filter. But from observation, I quickly learned that it wasn't a big deal at all. The people in the homes we visited were extremely hospitable, inviting, and willing to answer questions. Here's what was super exciting: we asked many filter-owners if their families' health had improved after the advent of the filters. And the consensus was nearly unanimous...almost all of the Chichubambinos we met told us firmly that their children no longer suffered from diarrhea and digestion problems. Many were eager to explain how important the filters were to their families and how happy they were to have them. To be able to hear this directly from these people was a really great experience. I was hearing firsthand--straight from the source--that the filters were doing people good.
Today, we began our first round of community diagnostics. The first round is just a short encuesta with questions designed to give us an idea of what project possibilities exist and would be valued in the community. Though I was a little nervous at first, just as I had been the day before, my apprehension subsided slowly as I realized it wasn't really that difficult. In fact, it was inspiring and enlightening to catch a glimpse of the chakra (agriculture) life. One older couple, who proudly told us about their eight children, answered the "income question" by telling us that their ingresa was virtually zero because all the monthly earnings are devoted to paying for their son's college education. I was moved by how hard this man was working--and how 100% of his earnings went straight to his son's bank account. As we sat in their backyard, chickens and pigs doing their thing while the couple gave detailed responses to our questions, it felt like we were getting to know the real Peru.
I wish I had taken pictures. But I'll be visiting these communities for nine months, so I should get a photo or two.
This week was kind of "eye-opening" in the sense that we began to make our first real connections with los campesinos (country-dwellers). On Sunday, after spending the morning at Pisac, the Incan archaeological site/fabulous crafts market, we headed back up to Chicon to try, once again, meeting with the community leaders. Like Ober had (our Chiconian connection) told us, nearly the entire town was chilling at the cancha (field). As we became a part of the crowd of spectators, I was really impressed by the palpable feeling of community and togetherness. Children ran up and down the sidelines while their parents chatted and sipped freshly brewed chicha. We did manage to have a pretty informal chat with many of the community leaders, after which we were free to do what we wanted. We started a pick-up soccer game on the field and had a great time playing with the kids, who ranged in age from about five or six to about twenty. Afterwards, chaos (the good kind) erupted when we tried showing the kids (there were about thirty of them) some American group activities like elbow tag and the circle sit. As the sky darkened to pitch black, we finally decided it was time to take a combi home.
On Wednesday, I ventured into Chichubamba with Mecha, the ProPeru water filter coordinator, to check on the families who have already received filters. At first, I felt a little uncomfortable entering people's homes and standing awkwardly around the filter. But from observation, I quickly learned that it wasn't a big deal at all. The people in the homes we visited were extremely hospitable, inviting, and willing to answer questions. Here's what was super exciting: we asked many filter-owners if their families' health had improved after the advent of the filters. And the consensus was nearly unanimous...almost all of the Chichubambinos we met told us firmly that their children no longer suffered from diarrhea and digestion problems. Many were eager to explain how important the filters were to their families and how happy they were to have them. To be able to hear this directly from these people was a really great experience. I was hearing firsthand--straight from the source--that the filters were doing people good.
Today, we began our first round of community diagnostics. The first round is just a short encuesta with questions designed to give us an idea of what project possibilities exist and would be valued in the community. Though I was a little nervous at first, just as I had been the day before, my apprehension subsided slowly as I realized it wasn't really that difficult. In fact, it was inspiring and enlightening to catch a glimpse of the chakra (agriculture) life. One older couple, who proudly told us about their eight children, answered the "income question" by telling us that their ingresa was virtually zero because all the monthly earnings are devoted to paying for their son's college education. I was moved by how hard this man was working--and how 100% of his earnings went straight to his son's bank account. As we sat in their backyard, chickens and pigs doing their thing while the couple gave detailed responses to our questions, it felt like we were getting to know the real Peru.
I wish I had taken pictures. But I'll be visiting these communities for nine months, so I should get a photo or two.
18.9.10
Untitled Adventures
Hey y'all.
It's been an interesting week. On Monday, we got a taste of the water filter-building process when we spent the morning in the ProWorld workshop with Mercedes. We carefully measured out ground clay and sifted sawdust, then mixed them together with water. After kneading the mixture by hand, we stomped around in the mud for a long while (my favorite part!) to bring it to an even consistency. Eventually, when we got the okay from Mercedes, we used a press to shape the clay into filter form (comparable to a medium-sized bucket). Once the filter is properly baked in the kiln, it will be coated with colloidal silver. This ensures that the filter serves its purpose and provides its family with 100% clean water for two years.
On Wednesday, we experienced another aspect of the filters project; we went with Mercedes to the market where we set up an information booth and tried to garner interest. Personally, I was pretty nervous to approach people at first, especially because I had to speak Spanish. But suddenly I found myself telling more and more people about the benefits of filters (as opposed to boiled or bottled water), and many were very interested. The filters project happens to be my service placement for the next two months, and I'm looking forward to learning more about its various aspects.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, we visited the Media Luna and Chicon, the two communities in which we will be conducting needs assessments starting next week. Though the two looked somewhat similar in terms of aesthetics, our experiences in each community could not have been more different...
In Media Luna, we met in a meeting room with some community leaders and discussed, quite methodically, our plans for the coming week. The leaders gave us a little introduction to the community, as well as some ideas for projects. In general, it was a seemingly normal meeting, and we left with a better idea of what we are going to be doing.
The next day, we got up early, as walking to Chicon from Urubamba is a bit of a hike. When we finally made it to the town, we were informed that the community president wasn't around! But since Steph had already befriended two very friendly Chiconians on a previous visit, we instead decided to spend some time with them, and hiked up a bit further. To be honest, it was a pretty difficult, uphill journey, but we did see some interesting things, including 1.) two cows charge THROUGH a barbed wire fence 2.) extraordinary views of the mountains. Fiiiiiinally we reached the abandoned ProWorld casita that used to be an overnight haven for hikers. We all had a great time lazing in the sun and chatting with our Chiconian friends. It got even better when one of them, Ower, introduced us to his entire family on our way back down. We met his wife and daughter and sister and mother and grandmother and a ton of others. It certainly wasn't the meeting we'd been expecting, but it felt pretty "legit" to be shooting the breeze in the countryside with some real Peruvians. (and we even tried chicha, the famous corn beer of Peru!)
I think that's enough blogging for now. Sorry I'm still holding off on the pictures...the photo-uploader is so slow and I'm sleepy!
Peace.
It's been an interesting week. On Monday, we got a taste of the water filter-building process when we spent the morning in the ProWorld workshop with Mercedes. We carefully measured out ground clay and sifted sawdust, then mixed them together with water. After kneading the mixture by hand, we stomped around in the mud for a long while (my favorite part!) to bring it to an even consistency. Eventually, when we got the okay from Mercedes, we used a press to shape the clay into filter form (comparable to a medium-sized bucket). Once the filter is properly baked in the kiln, it will be coated with colloidal silver. This ensures that the filter serves its purpose and provides its family with 100% clean water for two years.
On Wednesday, we experienced another aspect of the filters project; we went with Mercedes to the market where we set up an information booth and tried to garner interest. Personally, I was pretty nervous to approach people at first, especially because I had to speak Spanish. But suddenly I found myself telling more and more people about the benefits of filters (as opposed to boiled or bottled water), and many were very interested. The filters project happens to be my service placement for the next two months, and I'm looking forward to learning more about its various aspects.
 |
| Mmm, brownies! |
In Media Luna, we met in a meeting room with some community leaders and discussed, quite methodically, our plans for the coming week. The leaders gave us a little introduction to the community, as well as some ideas for projects. In general, it was a seemingly normal meeting, and we left with a better idea of what we are going to be doing.
The next day, we got up early, as walking to Chicon from Urubamba is a bit of a hike. When we finally made it to the town, we were informed that the community president wasn't around! But since Steph had already befriended two very friendly Chiconians on a previous visit, we instead decided to spend some time with them, and hiked up a bit further. To be honest, it was a pretty difficult, uphill journey, but we did see some interesting things, including 1.) two cows charge THROUGH a barbed wire fence 2.) extraordinary views of the mountains. Fiiiiiinally we reached the abandoned ProWorld casita that used to be an overnight haven for hikers. We all had a great time lazing in the sun and chatting with our Chiconian friends. It got even better when one of them, Ower, introduced us to his entire family on our way back down. We met his wife and daughter and sister and mother and grandmother and a ton of others. It certainly wasn't the meeting we'd been expecting, but it felt pretty "legit" to be shooting the breeze in the countryside with some real Peruvians. (and we even tried chicha, the famous corn beer of Peru!)
I think that's enough blogging for now. Sorry I'm still holding off on the pictures...the photo-uploader is so slow and I'm sleepy!
Peace.
10.9.10
'bamba.
Hey y'all.
From Urubamba! After an incredibly long period of orientation sessions, I have moved in with my host family and am no longer living out of suitcases!
It sounds cliche, but it's true; Urubamba is gorgeous. It is surrounded by mountains on literally every side, and in many places, you can see the glacier, which is spectacular. Eventually, we will be hiking there!
If you ask anyone in Urubamba how to describe the town, the answer will be, almost undoubtedly, "tranquilooooo." (meaning "calm, peaceful, chill") And tranquilo it is. There aren't too many cars; the streets are instead alive with mototaxis, pedestrians, dogs (mucho), bicyclists, and the occasional van. It's hard to explain, but in Urubamba I feel like we have so much more time in a single day, at least when compared to my previous lifestyle in Nueva Jersey...
Today, I went a rural area not far from the town where ProWorld is working to install cleaner burning stoves in many families' homes. (Sorry I don't have pictures...you can check out the project here: http://cleanburningstoves.blogspot.com/) First, we watched as Jaime, the project coordinator, showed us the process from start to finish. Basically, the stove base consists of nine clay bricks, which are fastened together with a mud-water-guineapighair/hay mixture. There are also clay panels that lie on top to form the shapes of the circular cooking holes. The stoves also have exhaust tubes which release the fumes into the air through a hole in the roof. It's s a really simple and sustainable process (the stove is built entirely out of clay, with three pieces of old plow parts for support) that only takes about an hour, but can really improve the quality of life for the people who receive the stoves. And now for the point I was planning to make when I started this paragraph...after we finished one of the stoves, the elderly couple invited us in to have some comida (food). Though we told them we had to get home to have lunch with our families (it was nearly 2 o'clock at this point), they were unphased. "Sit down and have some," they insisted, as if to say "there's time." And if you're wondering, I can't remember exactly what they offered us, but it tasted like sweet potato.
My photo-uploader is really slow at the moment, so I'll post more later. Peace.
From Urubamba! After an incredibly long period of orientation sessions, I have moved in with my host family and am no longer living out of suitcases!
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| Street view. Those interesting vehicles you see are called mototaxis, and they will take you anywhere in Urubamba for 1 sol. |
It sounds cliche, but it's true; Urubamba is gorgeous. It is surrounded by mountains on literally every side, and in many places, you can see the glacier, which is spectacular. Eventually, we will be hiking there!
If you ask anyone in Urubamba how to describe the town, the answer will be, almost undoubtedly, "tranquilooooo." (meaning "calm, peaceful, chill") And tranquilo it is. There aren't too many cars; the streets are instead alive with mototaxis, pedestrians, dogs (mucho), bicyclists, and the occasional van. It's hard to explain, but in Urubamba I feel like we have so much more time in a single day, at least when compared to my previous lifestyle in Nueva Jersey...
 |
| Rosie, Rachel and I work on a stove |
Today, I went a rural area not far from the town where ProWorld is working to install cleaner burning stoves in many families' homes. (Sorry I don't have pictures...you can check out the project here: http://cleanburningstoves.blogspot.com/) First, we watched as Jaime, the project coordinator, showed us the process from start to finish. Basically, the stove base consists of nine clay bricks, which are fastened together with a mud-water-guineapighair/hay mixture. There are also clay panels that lie on top to form the shapes of the circular cooking holes. The stoves also have exhaust tubes which release the fumes into the air through a hole in the roof. It's s a really simple and sustainable process (the stove is built entirely out of clay, with three pieces of old plow parts for support) that only takes about an hour, but can really improve the quality of life for the people who receive the stoves. And now for the point I was planning to make when I started this paragraph...after we finished one of the stoves, the elderly couple invited us in to have some comida (food). Though we told them we had to get home to have lunch with our families (it was nearly 2 o'clock at this point), they were unphased. "Sit down and have some," they insisted, as if to say "there's time." And if you're wondering, I can't remember exactly what they offered us, but it tasted like sweet potato.
My photo-uploader is really slow at the moment, so I'll post more later. Peace.
6.9.10
Saqsawaman y Mas
Hey y'all.
Sorry I haven't been that prompt in the blogging department. Anyway, my beloved Bridge Year compatriots are updating their blogs as well, so to avoid redundancy, I won't talk about absolutely everything. I've only been here a few days, but I've already encountered some of the things that are often perceived as quintessentially Peruvian. Like cuy (salty roasted guinea pig), tea de coca leaves (since I came to Peru I have drunk more cups of tea than I had over the course of my entire life, I think), los menus (a popular choice for the traditionally heavy Peruvian lunch; menus consist of a salad/appetizer, soup, and main dish, usually with meat and papas fritas), llamas (self-explanatory), quinoa (an Andean staple grain), breathtaking views of the hills (photos below), parades (political and religious) architectural marvels (the Inca were truly ingenious) and altitude-related sensations (luckily nothing more than occasional shortness of breath and increased heart rate).
Today was especially special for me, so I'm going to go into more detail about my adventures. In the morning, we (the Bridge Year students) had an orientation session with Stephanie, our fearless leader. We talked about some of the "building blocks" of cultural values. For example, the concept of self, which can range from individualist (the needs of the individual are satisfied before that of the group) to collectivist (one's identity is in large part a function of one's membership and role in a group), is often shaped by the society in which one lives. We also discussed the spectrum of the locus of control, which ranges from internal (the feeling that one can dictate his/her life path completely) to external (the belief that certain things cannot be controlled and must therefore be accepted). Among things to be or not to be controlled are time and nature.
I have always been very interested in these concepts, especially the individualist/collectivist contrast, and the morning discussion made me very eager to find out where Peruvian culture lies on the spectrum. What I didn't realize was that I would get some insight only a short while later, when I visited Saqsawaman with Stephanie and my Bridge Year buddies. At this site, located right here in Cusco, is what remains of an Inca fortress. Constructed in the 13th century, these ruins are constructed of massive limestone bricks...some over four meters tall and 160 tonnes in weight. And what is awe-striking is not just the sheer enormity of the boulders, but the fact that they were transported nearly twelve kilometers--in a society where the wheel had not yet been introduced. These structures, unlike the work of the Spanish conquistadors who took over Cusco in the middle of the last milennium, the Incan constructions have been made to withstand the constant threat of earthquakes in Peru.
As our guide, Carlos, explained the process by which the Inca built Saqsawaman, it became evident to me that the Incan society was incredibly collectivist. Working in teams of one hundred to two hundred men to drag and fit the massive stones into place, the Inca people understood that the survival and success of the group ensures the well-being of the individual--and therefore the group gets priority. Carlos told us about a n Incan concept called "Ayni." This translates to "today you, tomorrow me." In other words, it implies a sense of faith in others/the group.
I was also struck by Carlos's comments when we visited an ancient temple in the vicinity of Saqsawaman. He explained how the Inca considered nothing more sacred than nature...the sun, the moon, the stars, rainbows. Unlike other societies, they acknowledged nature's power and accepted the fact that it cannot be controlled. The fact that such a wise people were pillaged, enslaved, and destroyed by the Spaniards is unreal to me. Is it inevitable that individualist societies will prevail?
On a lighter note, our group found ourselves in the midst of a spontaneous salsa lesson this afternoon! During Spanish class, Alex jokingly asked our teacher if he could show us some salsa moves, and to our great surprise, the five of us were soon learning the basic moves. So much for subjunctive and preterite and all that. Hopefully we'll get to try out our skills at one of the Peruvian clubs in Cusco before we depart for Urubamba!
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| The souvenir market at San Blas |
Sorry I haven't been that prompt in the blogging department. Anyway, my beloved Bridge Year compatriots are updating their blogs as well, so to avoid redundancy, I won't talk about absolutely everything. I've only been here a few days, but I've already encountered some of the things that are often perceived as quintessentially Peruvian. Like cuy (salty roasted guinea pig), tea de coca leaves (since I came to Peru I have drunk more cups of tea than I had over the course of my entire life, I think), los menus (a popular choice for the traditionally heavy Peruvian lunch; menus consist of a salad/appetizer, soup, and main dish, usually with meat and papas fritas), llamas (self-explanatory), quinoa (an Andean staple grain), breathtaking views of the hills (photos below), parades (political and religious) architectural marvels (the Inca were truly ingenious) and altitude-related sensations (luckily nothing more than occasional shortness of breath and increased heart rate).
 |
| Loyal supporters of a mayoral candidate at the Plaza de Armas |
Today was especially special for me, so I'm going to go into more detail about my adventures. In the morning, we (the Bridge Year students) had an orientation session with Stephanie, our fearless leader. We talked about some of the "building blocks" of cultural values. For example, the concept of self, which can range from individualist (the needs of the individual are satisfied before that of the group) to collectivist (one's identity is in large part a function of one's membership and role in a group), is often shaped by the society in which one lives. We also discussed the spectrum of the locus of control, which ranges from internal (the feeling that one can dictate his/her life path completely) to external (the belief that certain things cannot be controlled and must therefore be accepted). Among things to be or not to be controlled are time and nature.
 |
| Que marvelloso! |
I have always been very interested in these concepts, especially the individualist/collectivist contrast, and the morning discussion made me very eager to find out where Peruvian culture lies on the spectrum. What I didn't realize was that I would get some insight only a short while later, when I visited Saqsawaman with Stephanie and my Bridge Year buddies. At this site, located right here in Cusco, is what remains of an Inca fortress. Constructed in the 13th century, these ruins are constructed of massive limestone bricks...some over four meters tall and 160 tonnes in weight. And what is awe-striking is not just the sheer enormity of the boulders, but the fact that they were transported nearly twelve kilometers--in a society where the wheel had not yet been introduced. These structures, unlike the work of the Spanish conquistadors who took over Cusco in the middle of the last milennium, the Incan constructions have been made to withstand the constant threat of earthquakes in Peru.
 |
| The largest stones |
As our guide, Carlos, explained the process by which the Inca built Saqsawaman, it became evident to me that the Incan society was incredibly collectivist. Working in teams of one hundred to two hundred men to drag and fit the massive stones into place, the Inca people understood that the survival and success of the group ensures the well-being of the individual--and therefore the group gets priority. Carlos told us about a n Incan concept called "Ayni." This translates to "today you, tomorrow me." In other words, it implies a sense of faith in others/the group.
I was also struck by Carlos's comments when we visited an ancient temple in the vicinity of Saqsawaman. He explained how the Inca considered nothing more sacred than nature...the sun, the moon, the stars, rainbows. Unlike other societies, they acknowledged nature's power and accepted the fact that it cannot be controlled. The fact that such a wise people were pillaged, enslaved, and destroyed by the Spaniards is unreal to me. Is it inevitable that individualist societies will prevail?
On a lighter note, our group found ourselves in the midst of a spontaneous salsa lesson this afternoon! During Spanish class, Alex jokingly asked our teacher if he could show us some salsa moves, and to our great surprise, the five of us were soon learning the basic moves. So much for subjunctive and preterite and all that. Hopefully we'll get to try out our skills at one of the Peruvian clubs in Cusco before we depart for Urubamba!
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| The view from the top |
3.9.10
Bridge Year Begins
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| David (peer advisor), Rachel, Alex, Brett, Steph (our coordinator), Eleanor, y Divya (me) |
This is my first attempt at blogging, so try not to judge. Especially my seven loyal followers. Thank you, by the way. I have some information to share which some of you may find interesting.
I am in fact in Peru at the moment, in case you're wondering, but I thought I'd start by introducing the program and explaining why I'm here. Along with four other former members of the Princeton Class of 2014 (pictured above...follow their blogs too!), I have decided to participate in the Peru Bridge Year Program. It's a wonderful opportunity, sponsored by the university, for some incoming freshmen to delay their start at P-ton and instead engage in a different kind of education. Over the course of the next nine months, the five of us well partake in various social service projects while living with host families in the wonderful town of Urubamba. As we tackle the projects set forth for us by ProWorld (proworld.org), Stephanie (our program coordinator) and ourselves (we will be working on some community diagnostics to design and implement projects to benefit particular localities), we hope to grow and develop in three main categories:
- service learning
- cultural immersion
- relationship building
I guess that's all for now...I will post pictures and updates very soon!
Un abrazo de oso,
Divya
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