Sunday, January 8, 2012

No Hay Un Lugar Como Tu Hogar.


Me with my Host Family at my Birthday Dinner (I always want
to start singing "One of These Things is Not Like the Others"
whenever I see pics like this, but it just doesn't translate.
I've tried.)

There’s no place like home.

Or something like that. It seemed appropriate to write that in Spanish because while it’s true about my place here in Pueblo Nuevo, it’s also not true. While it is my home, it’s still not entirely my home. And yet, after spending New Year’s in the deliciously decadent debauch-fest that other people know as Máncora and I know as that place I supposedly went to for New Year’s 2012, I was genuinely glad to be back and felt surprisingly more comfortable than when I left. I felt more comfortable talking to members of my host family and felt more confident with my Castellano. It’s amazing what some time away can do for the brain.
My birthday cake from my host family
(hard to make out because it's covered in
delicious chocolate, but it says
"Happy Birthday Kyle" in Spanish)

So, yeah. My birthday was great. Considering the vibe of my last blog post, I’m surprised to be able to say that, but it’s true. I spent the day with some of the most captivatingly unique and surprising people (all in good ways) I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. I found out the day before through friends that Bryan’s funeral was to be held in the morning on my birthday. Needless to say, this was on my mind and I wasn’t sure how to handle the ever-rising tide of emotions. My good friend John called me after the funeral to keep me abreast of how it went and informed me that he had written my name down in the list of attendees. This still makes me want to cry with gratitude.

It was at some point after this that I made up my mind not to continue carrying this sadness around with me all day. I knew Bryan would be pissed with me if I was sad on my birthday, probably making some kind of fantastically bitchy remark about my being too much of a goddamn drama queen and that I just needed to get the fuck over it. I knew he would want me to enjoy myself. So, I did.
I won’t go into details here because this is not the place for such things, but needless to say, my friends showed me a good time and I was grateful. At some point in the night, John called me and put me on the phone with some of my friends back home, some of the extremely loving people who were able to spend time with Bryan before he died. This was possibly the best birthday present I could have asked for.

The beautiful beach of Máncora

After talking with them and processing our feelings (hey, it’s what happens when you surround yourself with fellow therapists and one extremely caring atheist), I felt like I had made the right choice about how to spend my birthday. It wasn’t about avoiding dealing with Bryan’s death, it was more about honoring what I believe his wishes would have been. And I’m pretty sure judging by how the rest of my trip went, he would definitely have approved. But sorry kiddies, once again, not for here. If you’re looking for those kinds of details, you’ll just have to seek me out personally.

Loki in Máncora. Yeah. I stayed here. For about $10 a night.
Gotta love northern Perú.
(And yes, Dad. Every single  woman there was beautiful)

So, yeah. I went to Máncora, yada yada yada, made my way back home feeling like maybe I had lost my mind (must have been all of that sun) and was unsure of how I would feel back in my host home with my host family having spoken bastante English with my gringo pals and basically checked out of reality for the past few days. Once I arrived, I immediately felt comfortable and somehow was able to speak pretty good Castellano with them. I felt more compelled to initiate conversations and felt more confident in my ability to communicate what I wanted to say. Maybe it was all the amazing conversations I had with all of my volunteer friends that compelled me to want to continue that vibe of good conversations or just the lack of speaking Castellano made me want to speak it like crazy when I got back, I’m not sure. Regardless, since then, it hasn’t changed.
Yesterday, I did some more work on Gringos Útiles, wrote out a solicitud (it’s basically a letter you write with overly elaborate wording to beg the mayor to hook you up with some support in the form of money or materials or both), typed up a list of materials (yes, I’m afraid to say one of those materials is a basketball… for teaching basketball… ahem) and rearranged the schedule a bit to make it something more feasible (meaning I moved the dates back another week because there was no way in hell  all of this was going to be ready in a week). I then took my revisions to one of my socios for some advice on how to proceed. He informed me that what I had written looked good. Good enough that he wanted me to come back after the weekend to tweek it a little and then we’d take it to the alcalde to see if he’d be willing to pay for it. After that, it should only be a matter of days before we knew something for sure.
Wait, what? The potential for actual forward motion?! I know. I was shocked as hell when he told me that. Needless to say, I half skipped out the door and returned home with a definite sense of accomplishment.


My host dad, Gerardo, holding baby Gervik
(sounds like "Hair-vik," hair being the
opportune word here)

It's kind of amazing how much I love this place sometimes considering how I felt about two weeks ago. That's kind of what I was looking for when I signed up for this gig. I wanted there to be difficult parts that would require me to  rely on myself without the easy-out of family or friends to take the pressure or pain away. Well, in that respect, I've definitely gotten what I wanted. And then some.

But, I've learned some other things as well. That a well-placed vacation can do wonders for the brain. That the four or five songs they keep playing on repeat here suddenly become extremely enjoyable after spending a night dancing to them with a beautiful Peruvian woman. That, if at any point, I'm feeling like I'm not accomplishing anything here, my volunteer friends are always there to back me up with beautiful words of support or a good poop story. Lastly, that if I feel like I'm getting overwhelmed with things in site, the next vacation is never too far away. Case in point: Cajamarca. Carnival. February. 'Nuff said.





Much love to everyone who continues to read this blog and who showed me incredible support during and after Bryan's death. I love you guys. Chau for now from Perú!