The Desert Is Only as Lonely as You Make It

After reading through a couple of past blog posts, I realize I apologize a lot for my inability to post regularly. I’m going to stop doing that and just post when I can. Consider this my meta-apology for past and likely impending lapses of regularity.

So, also harking back to a past blog post: Como les explico? How do I explain to all of you what’s been going on with me over the last few months. Well, first off, I have to say it’s a really a beautiful thing to be rewarded for having faith in yourself. That being said, I believe some backstory is in order.

When I made the decision to quit my social work job and join the Peace Corps at age 30, I made that decision with several specific motives in mind, one being very similar to the motive that lead me to take that social work job three and half years earlier: I wanted to put myself through hell in order to grow as an individual.

But let me clarify. I don’t mean to say that my job before was hell. It was by far the most educational and rewarding thing I’d done in my life up until that point. By “hell” I mean I knew that in order to stop holding myself down with self-doubt and fear, I had to put myself in a position where I was not allowed an easy out or a means of avoiding difficult decisions, where I would be subject to uncomfortable situations daily and forced to address them head on or lose my job. I also knew that only by doing this over a prolonged period of time could I grow more into the man I wanted to become and stop relying on avoidant tendencies to keep me from maturing.

That’s not to say that I’m some bastion of maturity. Good lord, no. To this day, I still have trouble not snickering when someone says the word “penis” (not a good problem to have when I’m teaching teenagers about safe sex practices) and I’m certain that I will always think farting is goddamn hilarious.

But what I did want to mature in was my self-reliance, my own ability to be an individual and feel comfortable in my own skin. I think this is a constant struggle for a lot of people. I’ve found for me, the more comfortable I feel as myself, the more ecstatic I feel to be alive and be myself.

So, anyway, that was a major motivator for me wanting to be a Peace Corps volunteer. I also knew it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that would take me to amazing new places with amazing people and allow me the opportunity to finally learn this language that I’d wanted to learn for so long. But most of all, I knew there would come a time (and likely several times) when I would get dragged back down into depression and anxiety and that I would have to struggle with all of that on my own without the comforts of friends and family from back home. And I actually wanted that.

Call me a masochist, but I knew that once I was able to make it through that period on my own without relying on old vices and easy outs, I would come out on the other side a much stronger and happier person.

And so, here I am.

That’s not to say I’m all better and that I don’t still struggle daily with issues of insecurity, self-doubt and frustration with the language. But I can confidently say that after the period of what I will hyperbolically (I think I just made that word up) call “The Summer of my Motherfucking Discontent,” everything seems much more manageable and I feel better with myself as an individual than I ever have.

So, that of course poses the question: “What exactly happened during this hyperbolically titled period of your life?”

Well, thanks for asking.

Basically, to avoid a lengthy and, I feel, unproductive bitch session, let’s just say I was without any substantial work in my site from about December until March. And, apparently as I found out, when I don’t feel that I’m contributing something of substance to the world, I start to get down on myself. And when I get down on myself, I get depressed.

It’s a lot easier to look back on it now and see what happened. Lengthy, sweltering days spent in my house with too much time to think, too many screaming children, no regular work schedule and an ever-decreasing motivation to get out and interact with people. Just thinking about it now makes me want to shudder. As you can imagine, this type of routine lead me to spiral downward until one day I found myself overwhelmed by what I would consider the second worst depression of my life. I had spoken at length with several other volunteer friends about our mutual struggles with depression during this difficult summer period, but the further down I got, the more difficult it got to bother calling or talking to anyone. Luckily for me, a much-needed respite from myself and my site happened literally as I was close to hitting rock bottom (thank you Carnaval in Cajamarca!).

Shortly after returning from Cajamarca, my regional coordinator paid me a surprise visit and unknowingly helped pull me out of what was likely to be another downward spiral. He strongly suggested that I get moving on some of the projects I had agreed to be a part of and gave me a timeline in which I needed to accomplish these tasks. At first, this triggered a couple days of crippling anxiety and self-doubt as a result of three months of what I viewed as personal stagnation. Thankfully, I was able to rely on something I had learned from my first major bout of depression: if I put my mind to accomplishing something, I will accomplish it. Not only that, I’ll kick its fucking ass.

So, with that in mind, I made a lengthy list of things I decided that I would accomplish. This sudden clarity of purpose rapidly filled me with motivation and a sense of purpose. A large part of this sense of purpose was fueled by my desire to do whatever I had to not to return to that place I had just left and that clearly meant keeping myself involved in a meaningful way in my community and with the other volunteers. Apparently all I needed was some shockabuku, “a swift, spiritual kick to the head,” (Gross Pointe Blank anyone?) from a higher-up to get me back on track. It all harkens back to that accountability I knew I would need to keep myself moving forward.

So, from that talk with my regional coordinator to now, I’ve managed to complete the following:

-          Do my community diagnostic presentation in front of a group of about 30 community members

-          Start an increasingly popular nighttime English class focused on educating local school teachers about how to incorporate more interactive teaching methods into their classroom

-          Help write a new chapter to one of the most important manuals we have as youth volunteers, Pasos Adelante

-          Develop two projects for the youth in my site that will be starting later this month (youth health promoters and job training/university prep courses)

-          Hike over 13,000 feet to camp out next to a glacial lake (and a bunch of cows)

-          Help organize and facilitate a week’s worth of HIV/AIDS trainings for two groups of Piura Peace Corps volunteers and their community partners

-          Go to four different departments of Peru in one month (one for the first time)

-          Take a high-speed dune buggy ride through some gigantic sand dunes

-          Slide down said large sand dunes on a snowboard

And apparently I’m becoming more and more recognized as a therapeutic presence among the volunteers as I’ve gotten multiple positive remarks from other volunteers, Peace Corps staff and even our country director, all within the last two weeks.

So, yeah…

Kind of hard to believe where I was just a matter of a few short months ago. But for me, that is what is so important about my having gone through that difficult period: coming out on the other side stronger and reinforcing the concept that no matter how bad it can get, it’s never permanent. And that while I may be the one responsible for pulling myself out of my funks, I’m not alone.

I think often we as Peace Corps volunteers feel compelled to put a happy spin on everything that happens here as a way to avoid looking weak. It’s always easier to talk about all the cool shit we’re doing and post all the wacky pics we’ve taken, but I feel like the struggles we face here are just as important, if not more so, than our vacations and fun times with friends. For me personally, I try to see the difficulties I face as an opportunity to grow (often easier after the fact) and the time with friends and on vacation as a necessary balance to those difficult times. Everything in moderation, I always say (although, not typically on the weekends… or at fiestas… or the discoteca).

Thank you to everyone who has been there for me in the past and continues to be there for me, some of you in ways you might not be aware. Whatever good I’m able to do in this world, I dedicate it to all the ones helping me stay on track with myself.

So, in an effort to end my first (almost) entirely serious blog entry ever, I’d like to share something that my old therapist gave me several years back that I like very much:

A Cherokee grandfather was teaching his grandson about life: “A fight is going on inside of me,” he said to the boy. “It is a terrible fight between two wolves.

One is dark – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

The other is light – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, forgiveness, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.

This same fight is going on inside of you, and inside of every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a moment and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old man simply said, “The one you feed.”

So, with all of that being said, I still can't avoid the temptation to post some cool pics of my adventures. Enjoy and much love!




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                                     Some of the alumnos from my English class.



Matt and I posing in downtown Huaraz, Ancash



The ridiculously beautiful view that distracted me
the entire time during our training in Ancash.



Me finding out that we were only 1/5th

of the way up our 5 hour hike.



Nick and I victouriously arriving at our campsite
beside the glacial lake half-dead and just before dark.



The other glacial lake down the hill from the one
we camped out next to.



Huacachina, the oasis just outside of Ica City.







The dune buggy we took tear-assing through the desert.





The snowbaord I took down the giant
sand dune (but I had to do it laying
down on my stomach).

¿Cómo te explico?



Decorating the Office of Gringos Útiles

“How do I explain this to you?” Something I hear fairly frequently from people in my site when I say “No te entiendo,” essentially, “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” Or at least, that’s what I’m thinking, but luckily it’s not taken that way.

So, with that theme in mind, how do I explain to you the up and down hot air balloon ride on crack that Peace Corps service continues to be?



Outside the "Office" of Gringos Útiles (next to the cock-
fighting arena)

 Empieza:

After submitting my proposal for Gringos Útiles to the municipality, I was invited to the weekly meeting of the regidores (like city council members) in the municipality to discuss how to incorporate my ideas into the plans the municipality had for vacaciones útiles. After much talking, planning and a shitload of misunderstanding on both sides, I ended up with an approved project and, as a sort of consolation, I agreed that instead of having English youth groups, I would teach four English classes in the primaria (elementary school) during their scheduled vacaciones classes.



Maki and Me
(hanging out in my favorite spot in town)



Right as all of this was getting figured out, I was informed that my good friend, Maki, another Peace Corps volunteer, would be visiting me and staying in my site for a week. I found her a killer spot in my site that even I was jealous of with my good friend Judith’s family and put her to work helping me figure out what the hell I was gonna do for all of these groups I had now received funding for.

It’s also right around this point that it became abundantly clear to me that having a bunch of really good ideas and actually turning those ideas into a reality are two very different things. I realize now that I had a bit of a disconnect regarding what it takes to follow through on an idea. Before it was like “Yeah, you know, just make a youth group. Bam! Lives changed. Super easy.” And yet now, faced with the prospect of starting four youth groups and four English classes, that disconnect became alarmingly real, busting me in the face like a cartoon character stepping on a rake.

First came the English classes. I would be teaching the two highest grades in the elementary school, two classes of quinto on Tuesdays and two classes of sexto on Thursdays (fifth and sixth grades here). Luckily, I had Maki on hand for these first two classes and she helped me get the kids hyped up about learning how to say “What’s your name?” in English (although I think she was having more fun than them at times). So far of all the things I’ve done for Gringos Útiles, this has been the most rewarding and fun because it has given me something productive to do regularly and, as it turns out, I kind of enjoy teaching. It’s funny that the thing I dreaded the most and only did begrudgingly as a means of placating the muni ended up being one of the best parts of this difficult summer season.



The only promotion my movie night got on the day
of the event.



Me trying to explain my ideas for the different groups I
would be doing.



So then came the movie night. I was going to use it as a way to draw a crowd of people into a location and then tell them all about my different groups to try and build interest. After a harrowing last-minute purchase of a pirated copy of Wall-E (I’m not sure they sell any other kind of DVDs here) in Spanish by my socio Pedro and me running around town telling everyone I know that there’s gonna be a free movie with free palomitas (popcorn, literally “little doves”) because there was no promotion done of my movie-night beforehand, I showed up on time, waited the pre-requisite hour and a half for people to show up and started the movie off with a little speech about my groups. Although the turnout wasn’t that big, I still consider it an exitito (little success) because I learned a lot about how to plan a movie night, built interest for movie nights I'm planning in the future and it reinforced that stressing out about things still doesn’t change them from happening how they’re going to happen anyway. Might as well sit back and enjoy a post-apocalyptic robot love-story over a cono of palomitas with the ten or so people who showed up and stop worrying about how it could have been better. And so began Gringos Útiles.

Here’s how it’s gone down over the last three weeks:

Originally, only two kids showed up for the first basketball group. Not much to get overly excited about, but the following week, I was able to convince some teenagers who wanted to play soccer to play basketball and we had a good game of 5 on 5. Then later, some younger girls showed up and we had another really fun game of 6 on 6, with boys and girls playing on both teams. This last week, two kids showed up and we eventually had to relinquish the court to a larger group of teenagers who wanted to play soccer.



Biking in the chacras



For my first biking group, I had two kids and we had a decent ride through a part of town I hadn’t seen before. They liked it so much they wanted to have another group later in the week, so we scheduled a group for Wednesday and this time had about 6 kids show up. We took a long bike ride through the chacras, again in a part I hadn’t seen before and everyone said they had a blast and wanted to do it again the following week. Then the following Monday, no one showed up and Wednesday only one kid showed up.



Me and my cajón





Hangin' out with some Jóvenes



As far as my “Express Yourself” group goes, it was kind of a vague concept that got turned into more of an impromptu jam session/guitar lessons. After borrowing a cajón (essentially a wooden box you sit on and bang the front in various locations to make different percussive sounds) from one of my friends in site, I had begun bringing it with me to my “office” to practice while I waited for people to show up. Of course, the cajón is far from a subtle instrument, so needless to say, a gringo banging on one tends to draw attention, and, to be honest, that’s kind of what I wanted. Eventually, a couple of teenagers showed up and we starting passing it around. We agreed to meet back up at my office again on Thursday with guitars and my cajón and we’d have a little jam session and I’d try to teach a little about how to play guitar. The next meeting was fun. We played music for a few hours and chatted, and made plans to continue in similar fashion every week. The following week, no one showed up.

Don’t ask me about the World Map project. The idea was to paint a giant world map on one of the walls outside of the primaria to educate people about world geography and have something cool to do during vacaciones. It's considered an "early win" by Peace Corps. No one showed up for that group. Ever. But I became aware after several people told me they were confused by the concept that I need to plan a little better and explain more clearly what I want to do. More to come on that project once I can figure out how to get kids to show up.

So, yeah, como te explico? The first week of Gringos Útiles, I was expecting a low turnout, so it didn’t really bum me out when no one showed up. I was willing to allow that week to be a buildup period while word spread from the few people who did show up. Then, when the following week ended up being better and I had more kids showing up and enjoying themselves, I was feeling pretty great and like my plan was justified. All I had to do was keep showing up and the groups would keep growing organically. Then, when almost no one showed up for any of the groups this week, I have to say, it was hard to maintain that cheery level of optimism.

But I feel like I would be negligent in my complaining duties were I not to complain about something that has very  much impacted my mental and physical state outside of Gringos Útiles: the heat. I know all of the veteran volunteers kept telling me when I first arrived in Piura “If you think this is bad, just wait until summer,” but it was hard at the time to process how it could get hotter. And then summer began and it got hotter. Still, I felt like I could handle the level of heat. I just had to cling desperately to the shade whenever I left the scalding inferno that my house becomes between the hours of 11 AM – 6 PM.



What happens after the previously dry,
desert climate has its first rain in 5 mos.



And then it rained.

Now we have this brutal cauldron mixture of a Piura sun drunk with summer power mixed with humidity levels that make Atlanta in the summer sound like a refreshing jump in the pool, and the best I can describe it is a feeling like claustrophobia where I’m fighting my flight reflex daily because there’s nowhere to run to that’s going to be any less H.O.T. I feel like there’s some applicable Dante quote I could insert here, but it’s too fucking hot to think.

And, so here I am, sitting somewhere around 100° F with what feels like at least 100% humidity due to the daily morning rainfall, clothing incessantly stuck to my chest, back and ass due to excessive sweating and I’m starting to understand what those wise, wise volunteers were referring to.

All bitching aside, I have to acknowledge that I learned some very useful information from this whole Gringos Útiles experiment. First of all, that planning only one group a week is probably not going to be enough to sustain the interest, or even more importantly, the memories, of any of the kids in my site. Secondly, that as much as I have been avoiding it, I will likely have to begin working in the high school here if I ever want to have regular interactions with the youth in my site. I prefer the more comfortable setting of a youth group, but I realize now that in order to have that kind of confidence with the youth in my site, they’re going to have to get to know me and that will only happen if I start interacting with them on a regular basis.

Gringos Útiles is by no means a failure. It put me out in the public eye, gave me more interactions with some truly awesome kids in my site and taught me some valuable lessons about how to do things in the future.

So, far be it from me to end this blog post on a negative note because, all things considered, my life’s pretty fucking incredible and these difficulties are a beautiful and integral part of the personal development I wanted out of this experience. I like this quote from Maestra, the grandmother character from Tom Robbins’ fantastic novel Fierce Invalids Home from Warm Climates: “All depression has its roots in self-pity, and all self-pity is rooted in people taking themselves too seriously.”

With that in mind, and with much continued love to all of my readers, I leave you with this thought:

Poopie.

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!



An Effort to Make Sense

It’s amazing what can happen in a day.

Yesterday, I lost my dear friend Bryan Raybon to cancer. He recently turned 33 years old, two years older than I will be tomorrow. I’m still trying to figure out what all of this means to me.

After finding out, I was at a loss for what to do. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream. I just felt numb, unable to process this thing that had happened so far away and yet meant so much to me. I went for a long walk in the chacras to try and get some clarity, but found none. Understandably distracted when I returned home, I had forgotten that my host family had planned to celebrate my birthday yesterday since we wouldn’t be able to celebrate it on my actual birthday. I was reminded by my host niece, Beri Luz, running into my room singing “Feliz Cumpleaños” and excitedly talking about my cake waiting for me downstairs. Trying to regroup, I headed downstairs to try and clear my head and was immediately touched by the little celebration my host family put together, complete with beautifully arranged plates of delicious food and several rounds of “Feliz Cumpleaños” before we all devoured the gorgeous chocolate cake they had purchased. The only thing was, my buddy and host nephew, Cesir, was nowhere to be found and no one knew where he was. I gave them all hugs before heading out the door to a scheduled meeting I had with a youth dance group to talk with them about “Gringos Útiles.”

I had been torturously waiting all of December for someone in my site to show me some form of motivation toward my project. After delivering my shpeel about what I hoped to accomplish with “Gringos Útiles,” the organizer of the group, a man I’m coming to respect exponentially every time I hang out with him asked if he could include his group in my plans. He wanted to offer workshops to begin teaching other youth in town how to do the traditional dances that his group has become so well-known for. This was exactly what I was hoping would happen as a result of my work here, but was expecting it much farther down the line. Of course, I was floored and made arrangements to begin incorporating his group into my plans for January.

While with this group, a car drove up driven by my soccer coach friend with three guys from my soccer team in the back seat, one of which was Cesir. They wanted me to hop in and head off with them, but I explained that I was in the middle of something and it would have to wait. They said they’d be back in 20 mins. Needless to say, I was confused and they wouldn’t provide any details.

I finished with the youth group and phoned the coach. He came and picked me up and took me to a restaurant in town where a group of guys from my soccer team were all sitting at a table. I greeted all of them and noticed a giant cake on the table. The coach told me that Cesir had informed him my birthday was coming up and that they wanted to do something special for me. I looked at Cesir and he just smiled and asked me whether I was surprised. Overwhelmed by their kindness, I wasn’t sure what to say. In my best bad Castellano, I thanked them all for being my friends and for allowing me to be a part of their team. It was a truly beautiful gesture and I felt extremely grateful once again for this beautiful community I’ve been gifted with.

The last time I talked to Bryan on the phone was particularly difficult. The person I knew sounded different. He was understandably bitter about what was happening to him, having to plan his own memorial in his early 30s. He was in a lot of pain, not wanting to overly dope himself up with painkillers. The sarcastic wit and merciless sense of humor I had come to know and love and that helped us use laughter as a way of processing the horrors of what his cancer diagnosis meant was gone, replaced by a blunted version of himself, very much staring the empty question of death in the face.

I remember feeling extremely impotent during and after this conversation with him, unable to rely on who we had been before I left as a guide for how to interact with him then. And yet, even through all of that, he was able to say something I will never forget. He told me that he was so proud of me for doing what I’m doing here in Perú and that he wished he’d had more time in his life to do the kinds of things I was doing in my life. As much as it killed me to hear him talk like that, I respected the brutal honesty with which he made that statement.

I have a feeling for the rest of my life the magnitude of what can happen in a day will always be something that has the potential to sucker-punch the shit out of me or to fill me with awe and gratitude for existing. Or both simultaneously. I’d like to think that Bryan has left me and so many others some sense of wisdom about our own lives as a result of what he went through: while there are always reasons to put off those things you want to do with your life, no tomorrow is more tangible than today.

As much as I struggle to see how something so horrible happening to such a beautiful human being can be spun positively, I can’t help but think about how I’ve grown and gotten to know myself better as a result of how I reacted to his illness. He taught me that when someone is going through something horrible in their lives, the last thing they want is for everyone to start treating them like a victim. He also taught me that a well-timed cancer joke can be just as therapeutic as a quick squirt of morphine from an IV. His last lesson was to teach me that friendship apparently does not end at death; it’s just a little harder than making a long-distance phone call from Perú. For these lessons and more I will be forever changed as a result of knowing Bryan Raybon. Just looking at the hundreds of messages of love on Facebook alone, I have a feeling I’m not the only one he’s affected this profoundly and knowing this helps me deal with some of the hurt.

I’ll end this with my favorite short piece written by Borges:

Delia Elena San Marco

We said goodbye at one of the corners of Plaza Once. From the opposite pavement, I looked back; you had turned to wave. It was five o’clock in the afternoon. A river of traffic and people ran between us. How could I have known that that river was the sad Acheron, from which there is no return?
We did not see each other again, and a year later you were dead. Calling up that memory now, I look at it and think it was false. Behind our inconsequential parting was eternal separation.
After dinner last night I did not go out but, in an effort to understand these things, I reread Plato’s last teaching, which he put into his master’s mouth. When the flesh dies, I read, the soul escapes. Now I no longer know whether the truth lies in Plato’s dismal view or in our innocent farewell. Because if souls do not die, it’s quite right that goodbyes should not be overstated.
To say farewell is to deny separation. It is to say, ‘Today we played at separating but tomorrow we’ll see each other again.’ Men have invented farewells because they know they are in some way immortal, even if they think themselves incidental and ephemeral.
Delia, one day – beside what river? – we shall resume this indeterminate conversation and ask each other if once, in a city that was lost on a plain, we were Borges and Delia.

Thank you for being, Bryan.

So It Goes

So, Thanksgiving has come and gone, Christmas is on the way and my 31^st birthday is frolicking merrily on the horizon. And here I am, about a month later writing another blog post. In the words of the late, great Kurt Vonnegut: “So it goes.”

So, speaking of Thanksgiving, we had a pretty sweet one, us volunteers, considering we were all away from home. Thanks to the extensive planning efforts of Ms. Sue Song, Youth Development presidente extraordinaire, myself and a bunch of youthie (and several small business) volunteers made plans to pass the three Thanksgiving vacation days so kindly provided to us by Peace Corps in the department of La Libertad, two departments south of Piura. All the youth volunteers were heading to Olmos, just outside of Chiclayo in Lambayeque, the department between Piura and La Libertad, immediately after the Thanksgiving holiday for what’s called Early In-Service Training (EIST), so we figured why not converge somewhere in the middle for some merriment before a week of training.

We spent the first night, Thanksgiving day, in Trujillo, Peru’s second largest city. After a delicious breakfast with real coffee (!!!) and a brief walking tour of the city, we passed the remainder of the day up on the roof of the hostel hanging out with volunteers from other groups that happened to be in town for their own Thanksgiving plans.

The next day we went to Huanchaco, one of the more well-known beach spots in Peru. It’s basically a chilled out surfer/gringo-friendly community about 30 minutes west of Trujillo on the coast. Definitely a fan. We stayed at an awesome hostel on the beach with a freaking vegetarian restaurant right next to it. I couldn’t believe it. A couple of highlights from the menu: burritos with curry-infused tortillas, falafel (!!!) and apple pie with ice cream. Super delicious.

After a couple of days on the beach and lounging around the hostel, we made plans for a giant Thanksgiving feast to go down the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Plans were made with the hostel so that we could use their kitchen for the two hours between their lunch and dinner hours, so we had to plan accordingly to be in and out with all of our stuff baked, cooked and cleaned. Dibs had already been called on the mashed potatoes (as my family can attest, around holiday season I’m a pretty lethal mashed-potatoer), so I offered to make my patented (as in I stole it from a recipe I found on about.com) vegan green bean casserole.*

*Tip: When lacking the delicious crispy French friend onion thingies for the topping, a good substitute is a large bag of the delicious mini papas fritas they’re so fond of dumping on their burgers here. Not quite the same, but pretty damn good, nonetheless.

All those involved with the actual cooking crammed into the industrial-size kitchen at the hostel and we commenced with gettin’ down. It was a beautiful effort really. We had volunteers in the bathroom of one of the rooms washing all of the fruit and vegetables in the shower, other volunteers in the other kitchen peeling the shitloads of potatoes, other volunteers making last-minute runs for supplies and of course, my group, cookin’ up some sweet lovin’ in the kitchen. After the two hours were up, we somehow managed to finish almost everything and have the kitchen relatively cleaned up.

The menu went as follows (I’m sure I’m leaving something out):

-a bunch of Pollo a la Brasa (basically rotisserie chicken substituted for the turkey because turkeys cost a shitload apparently)

-a mountain of bread

-assorted roasted vegetables

-a massive 5-6 cheese (I don’t remember how many different types of cheese were thrown in there. I just know it was delicious) mac’n’cheese

-sweet potato casserole thingie (also delicious)

-vegan green bean casserole

-fresh salad (very much a rarity in whatever part of Peru you live in)

-absolutely drop dead amazing stuffing (love, love, LOVE stuffing!)

-THREE different types of mashed potatoes!!! (all of which showed up anything I’ve been able to churn out in the past)

-delicious fruit punch mix

-copious bottles of sweet Peruvian wine

For dessert:

-make-me-weak-in-the-knees apple crisp

-chocolate peanut butter no-bake cookies (which due to a lack of prep time, ended up looking more like one giant glob of gooey chocolate goodness and were no less delicious as a result)

-fresh fruit salad

-4 different flavors of ice cream

Needless to say, I was cursing my gag reflex by the end of the night for not allowing me to eat more of that delicious goodness.

After dinner, I walked around with some friends looking for a dance club only to stumble across a secret jam session going on inside of a house that doubles as a pizzeria during the day. We sat on mats on the floor, kind of like in a Persian restaurant, and listened to some locals getting down to some traditional Peruvian songs complete with guitar, massive reed flutes and a huge cajon (pronounced ka-HONE), one of my favorite instruments in Peru. It’s essentially a rectangular-shaped wooden box that you sit on to play and that has a hole cut out of the back with metal strings strapped to the front panel on the inside to provide a snare drum sound, but can also produce a deeper, bassy sound depending on where you strike the box with your hand.

After the T-giving festivities, we all headed out from Trujillo to Olmos, about 5 hours north in the department of Lambayeque, to start our EIST.

EIST was interesting. It was fantastic getting to see everyone who didn’t make it to the Thanksgiving festivities and being back in a training atmosphere definitely had a positive effect on my motivation for when I returned to site.




Us learning (that's me in the Perú 17 shirt)

  

AIDS Day tent in Plaza de Armas, Olmos



My favorite parts were, without a doubt, getting to sing a super catchy song my buddy Zack wrote and performing socio dramas to educate about the ABCs of prevention (A=abstinencia, B=brindar fidelidad, basically “be faithful” and C=condon) for the youth in Olmos and the following day in Zaña, Zack’s site, for World AIDS day. As always seems to be the case with these socio dramas (at least, when I’m not playing a baby), I played the sleezy boyfriend who wants to get his fuck on. Oh, yeah. And I almost got to wear a condom suit, but we opted instead to let Zack wear it and be the singing condom.



Me "pretending" to be a guy who wants to get his fuck on (with my friend Brielle)



Dr. House says so (this show's actually pretty popular here)







Our AIDS Day Mascot



Informational Tent in Plaza de Armas, Olmos



Some alumnas sporting educational banners in Olmos

 



Yup. That's me.



Me taking a walk with Zack in some ruins from the 1400s in Zaña



Here's a pic of me breakin' it down on a super
old suspension bridge in Zaña.




Speaking of AIDS-related issues, I was asked to be the HIV/AIDS commitee representative for my department, which means I get to promote HIV/AIDS prevention events in the volunteers in Piura, visit volunteers currently doing projects regarding HIV education, help volunteers apply for grants and twice a year I go to Lima with the comittee to plan for the year. I'm still figuring out my role, but am super excited about what this will entail for my work here.

Returning to site after almost two weeks away proved to be much more difficult than I had expected. This was exacerbated by the fact that I not only had no work lined up, but no one wanted to do anything, supplying me with the same excuse every time: “Es mejor que esperar hasta el Año Nuevo. Todos están bien ocupado con la Navidad,” “It’s better to wait until the New Year. Everyone’s busy with Christmas.” Mind you, this is the response I received when I returned Dec. 2^nd, roughly three weeks before Christmas.

Needless to say, my goal-oriented gringo ways could not immediately accept this fact and I went about several days in a row trying to shake down my socios for work and getting more exasperated in the process. Eventually, I had to succumb to the spirit of the season and acknowledge that maybe it was time to take a different approach.

During the summer here (Janurary and February), the kids all get out of school for two months and some attend what is called Vacaciones Útiles, meaning "useful vacations." Try as I might to figure out exactly what this would mean in my site (even asking the guy supposedly in charge ended up being more confusing than if I hadn't), it's supposed to be a time where kids who haven't been able to pass their classes or need some extra help can recieve it and all the other kids can just fuck around for two months.

Seeing as how I was not willing to sit on my ass and do nothing for two months while all the youth in my site had all this free time, I came up with what I have deemed Gringos Útiles, essentially "useful gringos." With this program I hope to employ the help of other volunteers close to my site to have joint events in between our sites with the youth while simultaneously offering the youth a place to come and hang out that's safe, fun and, hopefully, educational and giving them a chance to utilize our vast wealth of gringo knowledge. I'm currently planning each week's events and trying to figure out the budget right now, but with some help from my socios I'm pretty sure I can get this project going.

Okay, that's enough for now. I'm getting eaten alive by the massive swarm of mosquitoes that have invaded my site in the last week. Little bastards are everywhere. Looks like bug repellant is getting added to my daily routine after bathing and slathering myself in sunscreen.

Love to everyone! And since I will likely not get around to writing another post until after New Year's, Happy Christmas, Happy My Birthday (December 29th, in case you were wondering) and Happy and Safe New Year!!!