¡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!

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.

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.

Street view

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.

One of Goya's chicha pots

We used this gourd to scoop the liquid into the bucket, then into the sieve below.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

Mmm, brownies!

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.

'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!

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.

Saqsawaman y Mas

Hey y'all.

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!

The view from the top