Father Fred.

There is a man here named Father Fred Green. He is 88 years old and has been in Peru for over 50 years. He is originally from Hawaii, is a WWII veteran (marine, I think?), is bilingual (obvio), and has lost a lot of his hearing. You sort of have to yell when you talk to him.

Father Fred is also the man who is responsible for both the schools in which the Jesuit Volunteers in Tacna teach. That is, he founded both Cristo Rey and Miguel Pro. I think he also helped set up the Fe y Alegria here, though I am not sure what his part in that was. He does almost every Sunday mass in Habitat. He comes over on Sundays for breakfast with the volunteers. He consistently asked me how I was feeling when I was badly sick in the stomach. He brings us our mail every so often, and will give us rides to the center in his car. He is the one who created Mes de Mision, the month-long service trip for the students of each school during their summer vacation. The philosophy is that everyone, everyone, can serve and has something to give (including the students from poorer families at Miguel Pro), so we should give it.

Father Fred is a good man. A good human being. Wherever he goes, the Peruvians get up and greet him (instead of waiting for him to go to them) as a sign of respect. When my host family or just people I meet find out I´m a volunteer, they automatically ask me how Father Fred is doing, and then tell me how good of a person he is. He has made a lasting difference in the lives of many people here. He´s pretty much a rockstar.

The thing is about Father Fred is that he strikes me as a simple person who decided to focus on what he saw important in his life. I won´t try to say what is important to him since I´d rather not butcher something so profound, but I can say that Father Fred is authentic, genuine, caring, and pays attention to people.

Recently, I´ve been reading Story of a Soul, the autobiography of my confirmation saint, St. Therese of Lisieux (shout out to Christina Llanes!). I´m not done with the book, but St. Therese had her little way, her focus, her genuine search for God.

I also think of my high school days in basketball, when I read John Wooden´s book, and how much he stressed attention to detail in all that we do. That is, John Wooden says that you can bet a successful person is one who pays attention to many seemingly tiny details.

These really are just half-thoughts floating in my head, but I am shown by these people that in the every day lull of our lives, we can authentically love each other. And it is really that simple. I think I´ve been smacked in the face with so much of the extraordinary (moving thousands of miles away, learning a new language, etc.,) that my experience of the ordinary is skewed right now. But, as living in Peru is becoming a little bit more normal to me, I am reminded of the simple things. Love. Pay attention. Listen to people.

Like Father Fred.






Did you know that there are penguines in Peru?¿!¡ Humboldt penguines. Wow.

see.

I have a lot of time on my hands this week. School is over, and we are starting the infamous Mes de Mision on Sunday. I have no school meetings because I won´t be teaching at any of these schools in Tacna. I got another wisdom tooth out, so I am mandated to stay out of the sunlight and not to carry heavy objects. It also, you know, hurts a lot. I´m still chillin´ with the host family, though most of the volunteers have moved back to Habitat, either in the rooms in which they will reside for the next two years, or back to the posta, or Charo´s house. My host mom, though, explicitly told me that she would be angry with me if I moved back to Habitat before I had to. I think that is her way of saying she likes having me around, though I´m not sure why. Either way, all I have to do until Sunday is recover and prepare for Mes de Mision.

I guess I´m saying all of this because I´m going to post a lot on here in these next couple of days. Thoughts that have been lingering, pictures too. Because I have the time now, and I won´t be able to post anything during the entirety of January during Mes de Mision. I´m reminded of my own words in 3rd grade, "enjoy it while it lasts." And I guess I´ve found blogging a useful tool to better understand my reality at this time.

So, with that, I will start with some pictures. Always a favorite, no? I perhaps haven´t posted enough pictures on here for you to see, but here we go. Click on the pictures to enlarge.

  Yea, thats the pata of a cuy. The paw of a guinea pig. Nom nom nom...

All twelve of us, plus Carmen and Charo for a Christmas-y dinner. 

 I find this picture hilarious. Cara, Sam, Mallory. Shows the future of our community in Anda??

 I went to see the petroglifos with my host mom, but to get there we had to cross a rope bridge. She went first to make sure it was safe....

 I was frikken scared..

Some of the cool rocks. 

 Tacna Nativity scene. Authentic Peruvians. 

 Culturally appropriate Santa Claus!!

 On Christmas Eve morning, we went on a trip to Tarata, a little town in the mountains nearby. Here are the back of Sam and Mo´s family looking at the cool view at the top of our hike. 

 My host family for Christmas. Host mom Edda, host sister Stephanie, abuela Ophelia, me, abuelo Enrique

 Where the ocean and the desert meet. The two spiritual landscapes. Beautiful. 

 Merry Christmas on the beach. Cousin Nitza, abuela Ophelia, sister Stephanie, cousin Edda, and me. 

I´m getting sick of rice and potatoes.

serious.

I´ve been thinking about judgment a lot recently. Sort of facinated how quickly and quietly it sneaks into us without notice. It takes hold in seconds. In the shadows, when it goes unnoticed. The only thing that will loosen its grip is its own name. And even then sometimes it remains. We try to forgive ourselves by calling it simple observation, which only makes it stronger. I´ve been thinking about it because, well, the Peruvians think I´m very serious.

It makes a lot of sense. I got off the plane in November in shock. I had just left my entire family crying. I left everything I knew to embrace a gut feeling that I was going where I was meant to go, but I still don´t know what that really means. I´m very new here, and all of Peru is very new to me. I hardly understand anyone and have tried to listen a lot. I couldn´t, and still struggle with, speaking spanish. Then I got violently sick and remain sick even now. All that = serious.

Though I can definitely be intense, I´m not really that serious. It´s a judgment that has been put on me here, again, mostly by the Peruvians. It happened so quickly. It took me quite a while to realize it. But I can feel it now.

Don´t get me wrong, I don´t feel judged. Nor am I worried about it. Like most things, with time and space, I will learn more spanish and the Peruvians will get to know me better. If all else fails, when I go to Andahuaylillas, I´ll be able to start over again. More than worried, I am facinated at the process, how it happened that I was unanimously labeled serious.

I´ve recently found a way out of this label, too. It´s just one small step, but it´s something. I was sitting next to Gabi, a crazy Peruvian teacher here, during a concurso of Christmas carols by the teachers of the various Catholic schools in Tacna. I was forced to speak a bit more spanish, and well, you know, there are so many ways to communicate. And make fun of people. Peruvians do that a lot--make fun of people. Sometimes, its a bit too much, but sometimes its an opportunity to laugh. Especially if you use yourself as the subject. Well, now Gabi thinks I´m as crazy as she is... Maybe that´s another judgment, but its breaking the box I´ve been put into just a little bit.

Gabi tells me every time I have a serous face to remember her poking me in the side and just smile. Wittis, another Peruvian here who has hosted volunteers, tells me I smile much more now then when I first came. Actually, I´ve heard this from a few people, that I talk more now and smile.

It makes me think, though, how I´ve judged people already here. I´m definitely not immune. I would be lying to myself if I thought I´ve been fair to everyone. The question is, how have I judged? Who have I judged? What am I going to do about it?


be open and be opened.  

what did you get for Christmas?

I got a tan.

Before I go any further, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my big brother, Daniel. I wish I could be with you right now. I´m sending you prayers and good thoughts from afar. I am with you in spirit. I love you and miss you. Have a beautiful day.

....

This Christmas, being my first away from home, out of the country, and in Peru, was quite weird, to say the least. First off, I woke up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Eve to go on a hike in Tarata, a little town in the mountains about an hour and half away from Tacna. I went with Mo and her family, Martin and Edid, two peruvians, and Sam. This place is quite high in altitude, some 10,000 ft or so. We hiked around for a while, which was gorgeous. Actually, we kinda huffed and puffed most of the way. It was particularly exciting to be there for me because I imagine Andahuaylillas to be a bit more like Tarata than Tacna, that is, a quiet, small village in the mountains, high in altitude. It was also nice to get out of the desert of Tacna for a little bit, as much as I really do love the desert and its spirituality. After our hike, we then went to Ticaco, another town where there are thermal baths because of a nearby volcano. It was fantastically hot and really, really relaxing.

We came back to Tacna with enough time to take a nap before mass in Habitat at 7:30pm. I got there a little early to help out the choir, or more like try to sing in spanish with many words I didn´t know (word of the day: pañales = diapers/swaddling clothes). I got to sing the Ave Maria with Mo, who usually sings it with Cara, but while Cara is back home, I took the part. I messed it up a bit, though. I also got to play "Breath of Heaven," one of my favorite Christmas songs, on the piano for Mo and some peruvians to sing. I had been practicing all week, and I think it turned out alright for only having a keyboard with no pedal. It was the only song in English, too, of course, but really nice for me to do, to remember home. At the end of mass, the Jesuits had people wish everyone a Merry Christmas in as many languages as we knew, which was Spanish, English, Quechua, Aymara, and French. A very beautiful way to unite us all. After mass, we went around to give gift baskets and sing some songs to the poorest families in Habitat.

Afterwards, we all went our separate ways, mostly to each of our own host family´s house. I went back to mine: my host mom Edda, host sister Stephani, and host grandparents Enrique and Ophelia. Usually, Peruvians eat dinner at midnight on Christmas Eve, but my family ate earlier, at 11pm. We waited for midnight, during which everyone in town lit fireworks to celebrate. And I don´t mean little glow sticks, I mean the big guns. It was like a frikken war zone, I was so scared. Many people had started shooting the fuegos artificiales much earlier, but at midnight they were everywhere. They continued throughout the night, actually waking me up several times, which is impressive for me, a very deep sleeper. Actually, they have yet to stop; I just heard another one go off right now. Then, right after midnight the whole family hugged each other, had a toast, and opened presents. My host family got me a present, which was really nice of them and totally unnecessary. I gave them chocolates from my mom, which they then fought over who could eat them, haha. I know other families continued their night with partying and dancing, but we took it tranquilo and went to bed early, around 2am.

The next morning, Christmas Day, I woke up to Pannetonne and chocolate for breakfast. Peruvians do love their Pannetonne, though its Italian.... We then randomly decided to go to the beach for the day. Actually, apparently Peruvians here do that all the time. So I spent most of Christmas day getting a tan on the beach, writing and reading some, and talking to my host cousins and uncles about life.

In all, it was quite a different Christmas. I mean, I´ve never gotten a tan on Christmas. It´s not like it snows in Covina or anything, but still. It was also quite sad to be away from my family. I had a moment where I saw my host mom, Edda, hug her mother, Ophelia, and wish her a Merry Christmas, and I couldn´t hold back a tear, wishing I could hug my own mother. It is not quite the same over video chat. This morning, for the feast of the Holy Family, the priest offered a petition of the families of the "volunteers from America." =)

I hope you all had a beautiful Christmas. I am thinking of you and praying for you. I miss you and love you very much. Remember that, in everything, the big, the small, the pain, the tears, the ordinary, the weird, the joyful, and the peace, God is with us. Emmanuel. God with us.

Navidad, oh Navidad vive siempre en mi pensar. Señor ayudame a recordar que cada dia es Navidad.

i don´t think like a Peruvian

Some simple observations of the differences between Peruvian and American thought. Actually, to be clear, I don´t pretend to understand either culture, but from my limited experience I proceed.

1. Buses here have a set route, but do not have set stops. Basically, anyone can get on and off the bus at whatever time they want. All you have to do is wave down the bus, and they will pick you up, and then say "baja" when you want to get off. Also, except for if you want to go to Centicos, every bus ride is 50 cents, no matter when you get on and when you get off. Very convenient, but not efficient.

2. When at a party, Peruvians do not go up to the food table and eat. Rather, they wait to be served. This really kind of confused me, because I thought they were being shy or just weren´t hungry or something. But I asked my host sister why that is, and she said it is more respectful and polite to wait to be served. If you go up and get the food yourself, the assumption is that you are stuffing your face. If you wait to be served, you are getting the portion offered to you.

3. Most construction projects I´ve seen are half finished, but many of them are purposefully so. I´ve heard different reasons for this. Sometimes people run out of resources. Sometimes, you leave your project so that if you want to expand later, it is easier to do so (for example, there are many one-story buildings that look like they were supposed to put on a second level, but just haven´t done so). I´ve also heard you get a tax break if your building is unfinished, so people leave it so.

4. This is a judgment, but Peruvians don´t know how to shop in a supermarket. There is one new supermercado in Tanca called Plaza Vea, the first ever here. It´s kind of trippy... reminds me both of Costco and Walmart, and a little bit of Hot Dog on a Stick, because the workers had crazy hats on. I guess the best way to describe the way the Peruvians shop is to compare it to their driving... Basically, almost everything goes . Whatever lane you can get, whoever you can pass up, cut off. Whatevs (actually, this is somewhat similar to how Peruvians go up for communion at mass, too). Also, the cashiers are super slow, haha.

5. The city is not really separated into different areas, like residential and commercial, for example. This is not completely true, because places like Habitat, where the JV´s live, are pretty darn residential, but still there is a huge mixture. In the center of Tacna, you will find someone´s house next to a nice clothing store next to the market next to the school next to a casino, and one of those will have a farm out back, in the middle of the city. Or sometimes, the first floor is the shop, and the second floor is that person´s house.

6. I can´t have a list of differences without mentioning la hora Peruana, or Peruvian time. I have no idea what the rules are for this one... I´ve only got two definite examples. First, you always go to mass on time. Mass starts at 7:30, so you get there on time. Second, if you are invited to a party that starts at 8pm, you don´t come until 10pm or so. Everyone shows up hours late. But, outside of mass and parties, I don´t know the rules of Peruvian time. For example, one time we had dance practice, and we started about 45 min late, even though we were preforming the next day. Another time, we were catching the bus to go to the beach with the famlies of Miguel Pro, a school here. All the Peruvians got mad at all the gringos for getting on the bus at 9am instead of 8:45am. What? As Mo said, they´ve made us wait for everything else anyways.

7. Not everyone goes up for communion during mass. Actually, not very many people go up at all. It depends on where you are, but I would guess that about half the people go up for communion. I´m not sure why that is, something I need to learn more about. It is very different than the American sense that you must "get something" out of going to mass.

8. You can definitely sit next to the taxi driver. Actually, you can sit up front with the bus driver too.

9. Peruvians begin counting on their fingers with their pinky, not their pointer. Pinky is one, pinky and ring finger is two, pinky ring and middle is three, you get the picture. 

10. Also, when beckoning someone to come towards you, Americans will typically put their hand palms up and wave their hand towards them. Peruvians do the same, but with their palms down. Kinda hard to describe, but easy to see.

11. When at the beach, you wear your bathing suit.... and a shirt and shorts over it too. Some people will actually swim in just a bathing suit, but many people, probably most, wear clothes on top too. 

12. You greet everyone at a party, even if there are 50 people there. Guys shake hands, girls get a kiss on the cheek. It is rude not to greet each person individually, and people do hold grudges.

13. Peruvians serve all alcohol in small glasses a little bigger than a shot. If you don´t want someone to serve you more alcohol, you just leave a little bit in your glass. If they see that you have not yet finished your cup, you are fine. Once you´ve finished, though, they will insist that you have more. Unless you want to get shwasted real fast, just don´t finish the cup. The same is true of food... if your plate is empty, they will put more on it. If you leave just a little bit there, they think you are still eating. Thing is, by the end you want your plate to be empty, because otherwise they will think you didn´t like the food. The only way to really express that you liked the food is to eat tons of it. So, eat slowly, and when you think its been long enough that they won´t offer you more, finish your plate. Or, just stuff your face. 

14. In general, Peruvians value extroverts. They like the loud, outgoing person who will talk a lot and jump up and dance too. Most Peruvians think I´m really serious at this point, because my spanish is not at the point yet where I can have a good conversation. Meh. It´s just that I can´t translate my jokes fast enough. =) Ha, plus a little culture shock going on, of course.

15. Also, in general, people here value you for who you are, not for what you do. My host family claims me as their own, not for anything I´ve done to help them at all. I can barely communicate with them, and they show me patience. I am having all these stomach problems, and they buy me special yogurts and flax seed, as well as take me to doctors. My host mom introduces me as her daughter, confusing many a Peruvian. I´ve done nothing but interrupt their lives with an extra mouth to feed, more laundry to do, and hospital visits. But they care for me just for being me.


I think we should learn from each other. No one place does everything correctly. But, if we learn from each other, maybe we can all do things a little better.


peace and prayers. happy birthday to Lindy from yesterday.

please, stare at me.

Most places I go, people stare at me. And I´m not going to lie, I don´t really like it.

I´ll preface this by saying that I don´t get stared at nearly as much as some of the other volunteers. My hair and eyes are as dark as Peruvians (though not many have my kind of curly hair... actually that´s true in general), it is just my skin that is lighter than most, and my height that gives me away. I´ve yet to meet a Peruvian woman as tall as I am, and I don´t even consider myself particularly tall. In fact, my host sister blamed my height as the reason why people stare, though I think there is more to it. My host mom told me I don´t really look Spanish, I only look a little bit Latina, and I kinda look gringa (what?! so what do I look like? Just, different). I notice that people stare much less when I am out with my host family than when I´m out with other volunteers. Ashlen got called "Hannah Montana" once while walking on the street... how awkward is that?! One of the only times that I was consciously aware that no one was really looking at me was when there was a Middle Eastern couple walking around the market. The wife was wearing a burqa and everyone was staring at her, shamelessly.

That got me thinking a little bit. Who do I stare at? Who do we stare at? It is really natural to look at something or someone who is different than what you are used to seeing. I mean, babies are the best example, how widely they open their eyes to the world around them. But, often when we stare, we are not opening our eyes to absorb another way of life, but rather judging it. We as individuals and as a society are deciding what is "other" than we are, what is different and outside of us. We exclude. We are saying that people who wear turbans and burqas, or people in wheelchairs, or people with deformities, or with different skin or hair or height are not a part of my world. They are not a part of my world.

I guess this brings up another fundamental question in my mind, one that we ask ourselves often. Where do I belong? When I am being stared at by every Peruvian around me, I don´t feel much like I belong here.

Open my eyes. We belong to each other.

I sometimes might feel like I´m in a different world here. I mean, even the stars are different. But I live in the same world. Rather than excluding each other, we must remember we belong to each other. One of the great messages of Christ´s life was inclusion for those people always stared at, told they were "other." Sisters and brothers. Next time someone stares, I must remember she is my sister, he is my brother. It is a great illusion that we are so separate. Yes, I cannot ignore our differences. But I can open my eyes.


i´ll go with you.

for Erika

Happy Birthday, Erika!!

I´m sorry that I´m not there with you to celebrate your life, but I am certainly with you in spirit. I´m thinking about you, praying for you, and missing you terribly. I wear our sisters bracelet every day. I love you.

I encourage you all to send a nice message of birthday cheer to my sister!

---


A short update, just some thoughts. My health has improved some, in that I am not having sharp pains that send me to the hospital, but I´m still having problems. I definitely was in a funk from all the hospital visits and such, but I feel myself coming out of that funk, keeping perspective and relaxing a bit. I mean, we all always have problems going on, shit happens (except not for me.... I just want to poop!!). And while I´m still actively trying to fix the problems of my gastrointestinal health, worrying about it doesn´t help anything. Happiness is often a choice, almost always a choice. So I am choosing to be happy.

I´ve been in Peru now for a month, and in just one more week Nate, Gabe, and Cara finish their time as JV´s. Well, Cara is coming back for another year, and Gabe and Nate are going to travel a bit before going back home, but in a very real way they are saying goodbye to this place. I am reminded of my own painful goodbye. I am praying for them all.


a sacred silence.

in sickness and in health.

I feel like a large topic in my blog so far has been my health, and if I think about it, I guess this is a large topic in my life right now. You faithful readers already know of the first time I got violently sick here in Peru on the 9th day in country, as well as when I got rocoto shot in my eye on Thanksgiving, the 15th day in country. Then, this past Tuesday on the 20th day in country I got one of my wisdom teeth pulled (the next three will get pulled later on, one by one), though for now I will skip that story. Then, last night on the 23rd day I went to the hospital again with severe abdominal spasms. And I mean severe. I think I have a decent tolerance for pain, but I couldn´t stand up straight with these pains. Mo looked rather worried about me. Actually, a lot of people did. After and inyeccion for the pain and an ultrasound to see what was up, the doctors weren´t really sure what it was except for severe constipation. Blockage. I´m now un-blocking my system, which obviously requires many trips to the servicios higienicos.

I woke up today, and still remain, in a weird mood. I´m not used to being sick like this, or taking so much medicine. I can´t swallow pills very well, and so in the US at least, I just wouldn´t take the pills whenever I could avoid it. I have peppermint products for headache relief when I need it as a natural remedy (which really does work), and I would much rather drink special teas to help digestive problems than popping a pill.

I think I just feel really shaken up. Like something was touched deep inside of me.

This is rough.

I really didn´t expect to get this sick this often.

I am reminded, though, by a friend and fellow JV Samii Hartman that this is a priviledge. The fact that I can and did choose to serve in Peru is a priviledge. And everything that comes with it, I chose and choose every day. This sounds odd, but its a priviledge to get sick in Peru. The fact that I had the power, ability, and freedom to come to another country is a huge deal that not very many people have. People keep saying its a brave thing to do JVC in Peru, or its so noble, or selfless. Nope. It´s a priviledge.

I know its a little more complicated than that. Its just that my innards are burned in disease and they wouldn´t be if I wasn´t where I am, exercising this priviledge.


Though I feel very shaken up, I´m sticking through this one. In sickness and in health. Whatever I have to give, God will show me how to give it. Because it is by God that I am here. God sent me, God will show me what to do. I´m not sure what I have to give, like this. But that is the wrong question. The question is, will I say yes?


Go in peace, for your faith has saved you.

life.

Some pictures, to see what I see. 

The whole JVC Peru Crew. Mo, Rose, Mallory, Ashlen, Nate, Me, Mateo, Seamus, and behind, Gabe, Cara, Greg, and Sam.

Our Rockna audition.

The band. 

 Yea, this poster I find rather blunt. This wouldn´t fly in the US. Interesting.

 I forgot to mention that during the rock concert, I cut my finger while playing the tambourine. Battle scars.

Okay, a little explanation. Sunday was Dia Familiar, basically the day that schools in Peru celebrate their anniversary with a family day festival. Such festival consists of food and dancing. Every grade level is required to perform a traditional Peruvian dance, and they make a competition out of it. Peruivians take dancing very seriously. I mean, preschoolers were dressed up and preforming. The only thing that stops you from dancing is extreme illness, and if you have no rhythm, you learn. Well, the teachers performed a dance at the end, and all us volunteers went with them. Here we are, dancing.

This is the Andahuaylillas group: left to right, Mallory, Sam, Me, Mateo, and Cara. Yes, I am wearing fake braids, or trensas. Yes, my host family insisted on it. If your hair is not long enough to braid, you get yarn braids and tie them to your head. I am also wearing clip on earrings my host family insisted on as well. 

And here is my host family, minus the grandparents. Mama Peruana Edda, and Hermana Peruana Stephanie.

story time.

A couple of stories for you.

We reflected on our expectations for our first spirituality night more than a week ago, and well, I guess I never expected to be a part of a rock band in Tacna, Peru, appropriately named Rockna. It turns out there was a rock band competition and concert that is run by a friend of the JV´s in Tacna. He suggested we audition, so, well, we did. And we made the first cut, and we got to perform 3 songs in a cultural festival sort of thing. Cara and Mo sang, Mateo played the base, Carlos (a peruvian teacher from Miguel Pro) played guitar, Alfredo (Miguel Pro student) was on the drum set, and I played keys and a little tambourine and vocals. I really couldn´t believe we were doing it, but it was amazingly fun. We really screwed up our last song, but that´s okay, one day we will redeem ourselves. What is really funny to me, though, is not just that we rocked out in Peru, but that I wasn´t nervous about performing at all. And the reason why? It being still in the first couple of weeks in country, I´m sort of uncomfortable and nervous about everything around me. A little rock concert was nothing compared to culture shock. Nothing at all. So we rocked and rolled, and it was great.

Youtube videos. Yes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRzdvkBZqXs

http://www.youtube.com/user/SWoolfH#p/a/u/0/bve1gRlvbnY

On Thanksgiving day, I was observing classes at Fe y Alegria, a chain of school, one of which is in Tacna. Well, halfway through the class, the teacher told me she had a meeting, and that I should finish teaching her lesson. What?! Okay.... The thing is, my placement in Andahuaylillas is not a teaching placement. I´m going to be working in a parish, so I was only observing classes to absorb more spanish, and just get used to how schools are run here to better understand the circumstances. Suddenly, I was in front of some 35 crazy children. The teacher was not a great teacher, either, so it was not like the kids were behaved anyways. But, oh well, I´ve taught kids before. Thing was, these little munchins were insane. With my limited vocabulary, I got them all to sit in their seats while I passed out a sheet of paper they were to work on. The kids wouldn´t stay quiet until at one moment, one of the kids asked me if I spoke English. So, I started talking to them all in English, saying something simple, like, "Hello, my name is Jessica Vega. I am from the United States. I live in Los Angeles, California. I am here today to help out, because I am a Jesuit Volunteer, getting ready to go to Andahuaylillas, Peru, to work at a parish." You get the idea. Well, it was the only moment that I had the entire class in total silence, totally engaged, and actually paying attention. Of course, they had no idea what I was talking about, but with a promise that I would teach the class some english words, the kids somewhat nicely did their work, though a little later on I did get kicked in the shin. Don´t worry, the student was trying to kick his classmate, but he missed and kicked me instead.

Another day, I was with Cara in her 1st year English class. Cara was singing the "Five little monkeys" song, with volunteers to be the little monkeys. Then, little Martin jumped out of his seat, ran up to Cara, and full on smacked her in the butt. WOW. I could not stop laughing. Sin verguenza. And hilarious.

On Thanksgiving, we all spent some time cooking together for our Peruvian Thanksgiving meal. I was asked to chop up the rocoto, an incrediby spicy chile from around here. I was even warned about this chile, that I should not touch my eyes at all after cutting it, to wash my hands well, etc. Well, then I chopped into the thing and it decided to squirt me straight in the eye. Perfect aim, too. I must have the worst luck in Peru or something.... getting so sick so early, and then rocoto in the eye. I was crying while washing out my eye as best I could. When Mateo realized what happened (he at first thought we were joking when the other JV´s asked what to do, because rocoto really is that spicy and to get it in your eye really is that bad), he got some milk to flush my eye out. Yes, milk. Poured straight into my eye. It took me a full hour to be able to open up my eye once again. Never, ever get rocoto in your eye. It burns like hell, I promise. At least, though, it tasted good in our Thanksgiving dinner.




live without fear.

thank GOD for community

Some new words I learned on Thursday: fiebre, diarrea, posta, pastillas, injección, vomitar.

Yea.

I warn you, this is a bit graphic.

The last time I remember being this physically sick was something like 7 years ago. Many of you might know, I never get sick. Almost never. Really, though, I don´t get sick very often at all. Not physically, at least. And I can´t swallow pills, so I tend not to take them. Well.... So, here is how it went down. I woke up at 3am on Thursday with sharp abdominal pains that sent me running to the bathroom. Sure, that´s was fine though. We had a nurse talk to us at orientation in Boston about diarrhea problems and how we all would get it at one point or another, usually after one week of being in country. I was a little impressed that the timeline was pretty exact for me though. I went back to bed, though, and well, I wish all I had was diarrhea. Nope. I then got a fever, body ache, and chills to go with it. My communitymate Mallory happened to wake up, and I told her I was sick, so she went to get me some water. Eventually, because things were getting worse very quickly, Mallory woke up the seasoned JV´s, Cara and Gabe. They found me shaking violently in my bed, and gave me some pills for the fever that a local nurse gave them, just to hold me until I could see a doctor. I went back to sleep and woke up again at around 7am feeling okay, but beat up, so slept again until 9am when I woke up with chills again. Then, well, ew. It was the most horrible feeling I´ve had in a long time. Are you ready for this? Vomitting and diarrhea at the same time. Disgusting. Yes. Well, Gabe (JV ´08) had been staying with me all morning and quickly took me to the medical clinic some half hour or so away. I actually had no sense of where I was, and my sense of time was blurry too. When we finally got there, the nurse got mad at Gabe for giving me a banana....? It was weird. Gabe thankfully was translating a lot for me. I didn´t really have the mind to concentrate on spanish while I was shaking in the doctor´s office. The doctor pressed on my stomach in specific spots to figure out where the bacteria was too. Damn, that hurt. But then, Gabe had to go to the pharmacy and buy one of the medicines that they didn´t have for my injection.... Yea. Apparently in Peru it is not expected that doctor´s offices have all the medicines needed. Nor is it expected for bathrooms to have toilet paper. Instead, it is expected for individual people to have those supplies, or get them themselves. So, while Gabe was away getting me medicine, the doctor tried to talk to me about myself. It was, well, an interesting conversation. I sat there shaking with chills while she asked me about the perceptions of people in the US about Peru. Do people in the US think Peruvians are terrorists!? UMMM.... no. She also told me there are no toilets in Cusco, only holes in the ground... Not sure if that is true... I´ll tell you when I get there. I finally got the shot they were going to give me, which was pretty weird to me. Basically, they took the four different vials of medicine and mixed it in one siringe, then shot it in my arm and VERY SLOWLY injected it into me. They made my lay down because it hurt like hell the first time she tried to do it. When I got up from that ordeal, I had to vomit again into a bag.... lovely. Then we got a taxi home, and i slept all day, taking pills when I woke up, eating soup, and sleeping more. That kind of thing.

Thanks for listening to my disgusting experience.

Through this all, there were two things that kept coming into my mind. First was that I had only been in the country for 9 days, and it was an utterly horrible experience to be so violently sick so soon into my experience of culture shock. I mean, I couldn´t help but think that all I really wanted was for my mom to be there to take care of me. Or speak in English. Or know what the shot they were giving me was for.

Second, I have a deep appreciation for my fellow Jesuit Volunteer here in Peru who have taken their time to take care of me. Mallory for waking up and getting help for me, and for going to the posta with me for moral support. Gabe and Cara for waking up at 5am and figuring out a game plan. Gabe for skipping his class to take care of me, getting water and gatorade, getting medicines for me, sitting and talking with me, translating, giving me a banana =), and all around being a rockstar. Mateo and Sam for keeping an eye on me while I rested... though I don´t remember them being there. Greg and Mo for getting me up to take pills. Rose for telling me what not to eat! Haha. Seamus and Nate, and everyone really for continuously checking up on me and watching out for me. Gosh, I´m sure there is something I´ve forgotten, but really everyone really stepped up and took good care of me. I am incredibly grateful for this community. I´m not sure I really have expressed it well enough to the other JV´s how appreciative I am. I was really scared and really sick, and they took care of me. I am going to make sure I tell them that I am grateful.

I am a foreigner.

Example 1: While the keyboards for computers here look exactly like those in the USA and are labeled the same, they do not work the same. I´m pretty sure these computers were donated by an ex'alum of this school, Miguel Pro, but when you connect it to a spanish computer, it registers the keys differently. For example, I try to type a question mark and I get _. Or, I type the happy face I always like typing and get ¿=. That´s not very happy. A colon is Ñ, and if I try to spellcheck, everything is spelled wrong because it is in English. Forgive me for all my errors, until I have the chance to learn this new keyboard.

Really, though, I am such a foreigner.

I didn´t really want to feel like a foreigner when I first imagined myself doing this whole JVC thing. I wanted the fact that my parents are not American to mean that I was somehow closer to the somewhat similar culture I am now immersed in. I mean, I´m not in Nicaragua or Spain, but there are some similarities. And I tend not to think of myself as American, because, I think, growing up as 1st generation results in a lot of mixing of cultures. Both here and there. And a part of neither. It is what I understand to be the mestizo experience, if you will. The thing is, though, I am a foreigner, and I have so much to learn and get used to here. No toliet paper in the toilets. Cold showers, though we have some hot water here in Tacna, but we won´t have any in Andahuaylillas, and its colder there (gosh I´m going to die). Boiling water to drink. Lots of new fruits to eat. Avoiding dogs and cats. Bartering for good prices. Using nuevo soles in the first place. SPEAKING SPANISH, by far the most difficult thing for me right now. I´ve got a notebook I keep with me everywhere to write down words. No central heating or AC. I thought I heard my phone ringing once, and realized I don´t have one. Using international phone cards to call home. Feeling pretty disconnected from home, internet, that sort of thing. Waking up early! Gah! Greeting everyone I meet with a kiss on the cheek (not difficult for me, actually, but my community-mate Sam had the funniest cultural mishap when he went to kiss another guy hello... guys dont kiss each other, just shake hands. haha!). Spending at least 3 hours on meals with everyone eating together.

I miss my family, not going to lie. It is good to talk to them every so often when I can, but it is difficult right now in the transition and orientation phase to have a schedule that is at all consistent. Leaving home was incredibly difficult. Everyone in my family cried, including those who I can´t remember the last time I saw them cry. It was, and remains, an intense emotion that is difficult to describe. I mean, even weeks ago when I was blogging about how saying goodbye sucks, it wasn´t that bad in retrospect. I didn´t know that pain as deeply as I do now. I´m sorry to put my family through that, I really am. I am lucky enough to have all of Peruvian culture to distract me now, but they might not be as lucky. And that pains me. But I pray for them every day, cada dia, without fail.

It was a long journey from LA to Tacna, Peru. It took about a full day, 24 hours to get there between layovers and stuff like that. We were greeted by the JV´s in Tacna with a nice poster. We´ve had good time to rest here, though we also have been bombarded with birthday parties and gatherings of the sort. There is so much to absorb, by the end of the day I feel a little numb from all the input. I need to give myself a little more unwinding time, a little more prayer time. I can´t possibly mention everything that has happened so far, but I´ll highlight some fun events. Myself and Sam went to Cara´s (JV ´08 who is coming with us to Andahuaylillas) birthday party as Mario and Luigi. We did a scavenger hunt in Tacna to get to know the city, and myself and Ashlen (JV ´10 in Tacna) got to wear traditional Marinera dresses. There was a dog in the church during mass and no one really paid any attention to it, didn´t care either way. I´m pretty sure it looked at the Eucharist during the consecration too. Today Cara, Mo (JV ´09 in Tacna), and Mateo (JV ´10 in Anda) I get to play in a rock band for a little audition, I´m not sure for what exactly.  We are getting tours of the schools where the Tacna JV´s work, and generally more accustomed to this different way of life. I have been living in a room in the church, but at the end of this week I will move in with a host family. My goodness, so much to absorb.

Pray for me. It is a lot of adjusting, and I can already feel and notice some of the signs of culture shock in me. Nothing bad, completely normal, and all part of the process. I´m not worried, but of course I need all the prayers I can get. Leave me some prayer requests too, because I am praying on this side of the world. Much love.

And here are some pictures. =) (Like how I figured out how to make the happy face?)

Welcome poster for the 2010 JV´s

Luigi and Mario at Cara´s birthday party.

Happy Birthday!

Wearing the traditional Peru dresses for the Marinera dance!!

Te quiero mucho.

tears.

The day has arrived.
Stomach churning. Nerves. Nausea.
Tears.
Funky conversations. Goodbyes.
Wanting.
A little more time.
Come with me.
Pack nothing.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Blessings. Affirmation.
Pain.
More tears.
Let the river flow.


I love you. I really do. God bless you and keep you safe.

5 days

Yea. 5 days.

There is a lot happening, a lot of emotions, a lot of goodbyes. I am grateful for the love I have known.


What do I take with me? 2 bags and a backpack for two years of my life. 
Pack nothing.
Will I ever see you again? 
Yes. 
No. 
What am I giving? What am I giving up?
What price am I paying?
Is it worth it?


I am going to post mailing information here if you ever want to send me something.

From Nov. 2010 - January 2011:

Jessica Vega
Jesuit Volunteers
Colegio Cristo Rey
APDO 120
Tacna, Peru

From Feb. 2011 onwards:

P. Oscar Morelli, SJ
Jessica Vega
Triunfo 339, Apartado 276
Cusco - Peru

For packages, anything weighing less than 3 pounds can be sent through the mail with an official green slip from the post office. INSIST ON THIS GREEN SLIP. Do not believe it if someone tells you there is a better way to send stuff. Write educational material, no value on the slip. The package will arrive relatively quickly and without going through customs (which apparently is a great hassle).


peace, shanti.

this is not an adventure.

Many people have called this whole going-to-Peru thing with JVC an "adventure." In some ways, I guess it is (and I've got my new hiking boots as evidence), but I really don't think of my upcoming time in Peru as an adventure. At all. I think of it as a journey.

What's the difference? Great question.

Perhaps its just the intention.

I'm not going out there to discover some secret of the Andes mountains. I'm going for something deeper than an adventure. A simple adventure is not a good enough reason to leave my family and friends behind. But what I am going for, I can only tell you after I'm a little further on this journey.

I am also reminded by my yoga teacher that this is deep Karma yoga. The yoga of action.


"Lord, I'm not turning back.
All that I have I now give to you.
Ask me whatever;
I never want to betray you." 


-Carlo Maria Martini, SJ

saying goodbye

SUCKS.

I was talking to my dear friend, Heather Moline the other day (who is headed for Managua, Nicaragua on Dec. 4th), and she said something that sounded so simple. She said,


It is the worst feeling in the world to leave the people you love. 

There are several basic things that I believe in. I mean truly believe in. The sort of thing that you know is true, even when everything else around you falls apart. Those truths without which I could not even stand. One of those things is that I believe that we live in order to love each other. 

I guess I spent a lot of my time at Loyola Marymount University learning how to love. How to love and care for myself. How to let that love pour forth for others. How that love always comes from God. How to build relationships and community based on that love that is self-giving. How it becomes something we call service, though at its core its all about love. That we are called to love each other deeply and freely. Its a pretty good lesson to learn, and the kind of thing I'll be learning and relearning like new with every step of this journey.


So why am I leaving the people I love? This question has been in my blood ever since I got news of my departure date for Peru on November 9th. It's not just in my head as a thought, it's not just a recurring question. It is pumping through my veins. And its substance becomes heavier with each passing day as departure comes closer. Don't get me wrong, I am excited to go to Peru, to be a JV, for whatever growth God has in store for me. And I think it's right for me to go. But right now, in being present to where I am in Covina, CA, I'm feeling the funky, uncomfortable weight of goodbyes. How heavy they really are. It really is one of the worst feelings EVER. I'm constantly "funky monkey chunky," as my friend Lindy would say. I cry every so often. I've already had to say goodbye to some friends, and those goodbyes were incredibly awkward. =/  It seems so unnatural to leave the people I love. Why did I ever decide to do this?!

To be honest, it is pretty difficult for me to answer this question right now. I can tell I'm trying to defend myself against this current pain of goodbye, so my answer is skewed. I think I'm going to Peru to learn how to love better: more deeply, more freely. To be "ruined" as they say. To walk with others.  But that future love feels too theoretical, too hypothetical, too ideal in the face of the profound pain of saying goodbye to the people I already love. 

I guess this is all part of the experience. Jesus had to die (and we all know that really sucked) before he could be raised up again. But there is a price to pay for every good thing. This is part of the price I'm paying. I'm sorry for whatever pain this might be causing you too. I'm sorry for the times I will not be there for you when I otherwise could have been. But please know that I love you, deeply and freely.




I didn't leave Covina, CA until I departed for Peru. 

starting off...

A first post, like a first lesson plan, first meeting, etc., is obviously very important. It sets the tone, the ground rules, the purpose. In this case, the intention of this blog. Not going to lie, I'm a bit uncomfortable with the culture around blogging. The sense of urgency that you must know what I am doing, as if what I am doing should be on the forefront of your mind. That is not what I want out of this blog. Instead of telling you all about what I am doing, I want to tell you more about how I am being, what I am thinking. 

the wanderings of my inner landscape. 

I want this to be a place of sharing, a place of honesty. A sacred space of thought and reflection. Even a place of silence. At least that is what I hope. 

With that being said, I also owe you a bit of information. An update of sorts. By way of introduction. This is not what I expect most of my blog entries to be like, but here we go. 

What am I doing?! On November 9th very early in the morning, I will depart from LAX with two bags and a backpack for Peru to serve for two years as a Jesuit Volunteer. My placement is a unique one in Andahuaylillas, Peru, a small village in the Andes mountains which is about a 45 minute ride from Cusco. This is a new site for JVC to send volunteers, and so myself and the four other volunteers with whom I will live are "pioneers" of sorts. 

Actually, I will not make it to Andahuaylillas until early February. Since Andahuaylillas is a new placement site, there are no second-year JV's to receive us and help us through an in-country orientation and language training. For the first 3 months I'm in Peru, I will be in Tacna, which is the city where JVC has sent volunteers for years. We will be in a home stay with host families for a while (6-8 weeks?). In January, all of us will do Mes de Mision, a month-long service trip with the students at the schools in Tacna where JV's work. Then in early February, the Andahuaylillas volunteers will finally go to "Anda."

Wait, what am I doing?! As you can probably tell, there are a lot of details missing. That's okay, really.  I would be kidding myself if I pretended to know what this experience is going to be like. But I do know just a little more.

Work site: Right now it looks like I will be working at the parish in Andahuaylillas. Details are still being worked out, but there are opportunities in music ministry, sacramental preparation, after-school tutoring. Rural development projects, legal services, a library. Some of my fellow community-mates will be working at a school called Fe y Alegria, teaching english and working as Campus Ministers. It looks like there are possibilities for all of us to overlap too, working primarily in one location and helping out in the other. For me that means I will probably work at the parish and help out at the school when they need something. 

Who are the other volunteers? I'm going to live in a house in Anda with four other volunteers. Sam Hay, Mateo Pimentel, Mallory Naake, and I are all new volunteers. Cara Caponi is a current JV in Tacna who is opting for a third year and joining us once we get there. 

Okay, that is all for now. I leave you with a picture of the four newbies from orientation at Boston College (Left to right: Mateo, Me, Sam, Mallory). Pray for me, I will be praying for you too.