30.1.11

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.

13.1.11

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.

11.1.11

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

8.1.11

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.