Potato day

Today's Peruvian version of Google (google.com.pe) has a special doodle in honor of "National Potato Day." I'm assuming this does not appear on the U.S. version of the site? :)

While I am not surprised that Peru has a National Potato Day, I am quite surprised that we didn't have a town parade in honor of this momentous occasion - the cajabambinos usually take advantage of pretty much any excuse for a parade. Maybe they haven't checked Google today...

Wild cuys

As I was skyping with my friend Sara earlier tonight, she raised some very puzzling questions: are there wild cuys (guinea pigs)? If so, where do they live? Do they look the same as the domestic versions? All these are queries that you'd think I'd know the answers to, having spent the past 12 months in such close proximity to these portly fur-balls. But I was stumped! It was clear that answers needed to be found, so I did some serious research (I googled it). Here's some things I learned:

1. Wild cuys do exist.
2. They live in the mountains and grasslands of South America (maybe if they were native to the U.S. you all wouldn't think I was so weird for eating them).
3. Unlike their domestic counterparts, who have the luxury of cozy cages and daily feedings of alfalfa, wild cuys live in burrows, shrubbery, or crevices with groups of 5-10 relatives and eat the local vegetation.
4. They were originally domesticated prior to the arrival of the Spanish in the 1500's.
5. The origin of the name (and logic behind) "guinea pig" remains unknown; "cuy" is obviously a much more time-efficient and pleasant way of calling them.
6. Cuys are not at all related to pigs (duh).

Bonus fact: female guinea pigs are called "bears." Double bonus: this does not translate into Spanish. Bummer.

Drinking in the campo

Yesterday a socio and I held the first of a series of workshops for the members of a taya (tree with gum-producing pods) growers' association. Using my Peace Corps-learned skills, I was of course in charge of the ice-breaker activities. During one such activity, each participant had to introduce themselves by sharing their name and one fact about themselves (e.g., "I like to travel," or "I live in the valley near the river"). The favorite response was "I like to work growing taya trees"... obvio.  After a few such repetitions, I had to prohibit any further discussion of taya, since everyone in the room could've made that claim to fame. But then came the morning's most original response: "my name is ___, and I like to drink" (audience laughs as this grinning campo man produces his personal bottle of cañazo (a traditional homemade alcoholic brew) from his pocket).

While this incident was somewhat amusing, for the pure gall and mischievousness of this particular participant, it also reflects one of the greatest problems in rural Peruvian society: socially acceptable alcoholism. Campo tradition has made it perfectly normal for a farm-laborer to drink his way through the workday. The logic stems from the idea that since working in the fields is so demanding, having a little buzz makes the days bearable. But unsurprisingly, what starts as a light buzz develops, for many, into daily drunkenness and eventually a near-inescapable life of alcoholism. Rooted in this and other social traditions involving alcohol, Peru's rural regions continue to struggle with the negative affects of such widespread dependency.

Action shots

I've finally gotten around to taking some pictures of my community banks in action. I've now started a total of five banks: three with groups of Cajabamba women, and two savings-only versions with classes of middle school boys. Below is the classroom of my 7th graders. The word that best describes this learning environment is undoubtedly "chaos." This class has 38 students (totally normal Peruvian class size), packed into a long and narrow room that requires me to shout even when the students are silent - and they are rarely silent. Although they are in fact 7th graders, they comport themselves pretty much like 3rd graders, and there is constant chatter on all sides, occasional rubber band slingshot missiles, and running commentary and questions from those in the first few rows. But despite the chaos, they are a fun group of boys, and our classes never lack for energy, smiles, or amusing mischievousness.

View from the middle of the room

The four members of the bank's administrative committee running the meeting

Bank meetings with my groups of ladies involve a lot less shouting, but that doesn't mean these señoras aren't equally as excited as the 7th-graders. Their enthusiasm simply takes the alternative form of excited whispers among one another as each transaction is performed and recorded.

Secretary Angelita noting who's making deposits this week

Treasurer Flor collecting deposits

A distinct bonus of community bank meetings with the ladies is that they often involve extremely cute children (brought along by their mothers/aunts/grandmothers/etc.). The below photo is of my current favorite Peruvian baby - and yes, he pretty much always makes that adorable face. It's probably because he just loves community bank meetings so much :)

Pre-test gems

At the beginning of Camp VALOR, we gave all the boys a pre-test, so that we could measure (for grant reporting purposes) the knowledge they gained over the course of the weekend. Reading over the pre-tests always provides some reassurance to us as volunteers that the work we do is actually important and meaningful. For example, when asked what STI (sexually transmitted infections) stands for, here's a sampling of the (translated) responses from our high schoolers:

• Technical Institute of Health
• Identifying your feelings
• Identity for all sexes
• Social testicular infection

At least we know they're creative? And hopefully by the time they took the post-tests, their answers were a little more accurate and a little less creative.

Missing

Friends and family back home often ask me if I miss home or if I get homesick here. The simple answer is yes, but the reality is a bit more complicated. I miss home in small ways every day: sometimes I daydream about the sound of cereal clinking into a breakfast bowl, or about how luxurious it would be to stand on a carpeted floor and walk barefoot around a clean house. The idea of going to a wine bar or having unlimited "free" texting and calling to people I want to talk to can captivate my imagination for a good 15 minutes.

But these are all silly things, things that are so trivial it's almost fun to miss them, and to imagine how exciting it will be to re-experience them when I return to the dreamland that is America (seven months and counting!). The serious missing - of people I love and of the beautiful mountain-and-water-filled city that I call home - that's not so fun. If I let myself dwell on how seriously I miss these truly important things, I would probably not still be in Peru. I love my life and work here 100%, but to cope with being so long and far away from home, I have to avoid thinking about all the "missing." On a day-to-day basis, all those feelings stay buried down deep so that I can concentrate on enjoying all the wonderful parts of the path I've chosen. But when all that missing breaks through the layers of avoidance I've packed it in, it's like seawater rushing through the gap in the levee: serious waves of emotion. Thankfully, this doesn't happen too often, but occasionally an absurdly slow week of work, a particularly unfortunate combination of tiredness and infuriating Peruvian machismo, or a conversation that reminds me how much I miss someone at home can trigger such a wave, and then all you can do is ride it out.

So to answer the basic question, yes I miss home. Usually not too much, but once in a while so much that it hurts. But the missing is just one piece of the big Peace Corps picture. Luckily, it's usually eclipsed by one of the more positive pieces: brisk mountain sunshine, the smiling faces of my students, friendly greetings from small-town neighbors, random celebratory parades, etc. etc. - and that's why I'm still here.

Don Ricardo update

Last Thursday, I didn't hold my youth entrepreneurship class as usual, because I was off in Cajamarca for the first day of Camp VALOR. Consequently, I did not call Don Ricardo on Thursday morning to remind him to leave my classroom open. Yesterday however, it was back to classes as normal, so around 11:00am I dialed Don Ricardo's number. Once I made my usual request that he leave my door open at 3:30 that afternoon, he deviated from our usual script:

"But where were you on Thursday? You didn't call so I thought you'd abandoned me!"

I got a huge kick out of this comment, because it proves two key aspects of my previously untested beliefs about Don Ricardo's and my relationship:
1. He is fully aware that my classes meet every Tuesday and Thursday, and is capable of remembering this on his own.
2. That despite this awareness, if I didn't call him, he would not leave the classroom door open (case in point: last Thursday).

I'm not sure what my best janitorial friend is going to do when my entrepreneurship course comes to an end next week... I may have to invent a reason to keep using that classroom just to give him the satisfaction he clearly derives from receiving my daily reminders :)

9 down, 1 alpaca to go

Looks like I'm almost 100% integrated - of the top 10 dishes to eat in Peru, I'm only missing alpaca!

http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/top-10/peru/machu-picchu/food-drink/#page=1

Camp VALOR

The whole gang of campers and volunteers

First of all, a HUGE thank you to everyone who donated and helped fund this awesome leadership camp for high school boys. On behalf of myself, my fellow volunteers, and most importantly the 40 young leaders who came to camp last weekend, we very much appreciate your support and we could not have done it without you!

Jess and I with the six Cajabamba campers

Me and the two boys (Franck and Wilson) I brought from one of my savings bank classes

Thanks to the support of our donors and a lot of hard work by the Cajamarca volunteers, Camp VALOR was a great success. We started off Thursday night with pizza dinner and a whole lot of ice-breakers to get the boys into the spirit of camp. These games are our way of getting the campers to break out of the nervousness of traveling to a new city and meeting new people, and are always cause for non-stop laughter: seat-changing races (e.g., "change seats if you like to put mayonnaise on your guinea pig!"), people bingo, snorting circles where if you laugh you're out, a much more awesome version of rock-paper-scissors called bear-pistol-ninja, and a Peruvian game one of the kids led where you have to sell/buy a "duck," but speaking in a different type of voice each time (crying, laughing, serious, sad, etc.).

Seat-changing game

Bears and pistols

Selling the "duck"

Then, first thing Friday morning, we divide the boys into color-coded teams and the weekend-long competition for points begins. A team can get points for participating in the workshops, helping out with chores, completing assigned projects, arriving early to scheduled events, helping other campers, winning field-day games, etc. Teams can also lose points if members arrive late, leave garbage lying around, bully other campers, or "escape" (what we PCVs jokingly call it when a kid goes outside the campgrounds without telling us). The boys get really into the competition and their desire for points adds an extra level of animation to all the weekend's activities.

Nick's group of boys deciding on a team name

Name posters of all six teams: "The Leaders," "The Thunderwolves," "Successful Youth," "Lucky 7's," "The Fantastics," and "The Super Blues"

Although the theme of this year's camp was "Imagine a Peru without Machismo," each year's Camp VALOR also includes other standard topics, such as sexual health, self esteem, avoiding drugs and alcohol, and planning for the future. As part of the latter, we took the boys on a tour of the National University of Cajamarca, one of the largest public colleges in Peru. Hearing about all the different majors and seeing a real university campus was a first for most of our campers, and they left the tour talking about how cool it would be to study at the UNC.

Later in the weekend, we did a workshop on goal-setting and the importance of planning ahead for the future, and we also organized a panel of professionals. Although only six of our planned 10 panelists actually showed up, the boys got some great face-time with professionals from various fields and had the opportunity to ask questions about their work and the paths that led them to their jobs.

For the main combating machismo theme of the camp, we first did a sex-vs.-gender workshop with the boys. Through questions like, "if a man is wearing a skirt does that make him a woman?" or "if a woman is playing soccer does that make her a man?" the kids eventually grasped the difference between sex and gender. Following a sample skit by some volunteers (which featured Amanda in a mustache and Nick in a dress), each team of boys put on a mini-play of examples of machismo in Peruvian society, then ranked the various types of gender-based discrimination based on how severe they thought they were.

Categorizing concepts as gender- vs. sex-related

Amanda and Nick's skit

Different types of gender-based discrimination

But camp, of course, is never all work and no play. Saturday morning we took the boys to the local public pool, complete with water slide. Friday afternoon we walked across the plaza to an ice cream shop and each camper got to choose his favorite flavor. Free time at night was filled with guitar-playing, jenga and twister competitions, and even some dancing - Peruvian kids (both girls and boys) grow up regularly learning and performing cultural dances at school, so boys are much more comfortable dancing than their American peers would be. Friday night we showed a movie (the boys picked Sherlock Holmes) in the auditorium, and Saturday night the rain graciously let up enough for us to build a bonfire and roast s'mores.

Saturday morning we held a tournament of field games: three-legged race, mine field, relay races, potato-sack race, a tubes-and-ball challenge, human knot, and water balloon toss.

The camp's final project that the teams had to tackle was a debate, where each group was assigned to defend either the proposition or opposition side of one of three gender equity-related topics: the media's role in promoting gender equality, the benefits/drawbacks of sex-segregated schools, and whether a certain percentage of government jobs should be reserved for women. The boys worked diligently in their teams to prepare for the debates, despite the fact that the basic concept of debate does not come naturally to Peruvian students. Peru's education system emphasizes memorization and copying down the ideas the teacher presents, rather than critical thinking skills. Consequently, the assignment of coming up with arguments for a certain point of view is anything but easy - it took a lot of coaching and explaining, but once they grasped the idea the boys really dug in and worked to ensure their team was as prepared as possible to defend their assigned topic.

Preparing their arguments

The formal debate

When Sunday rolled around, the volunteers were proud to watch three awesome debates unfold. Then it was time to make some speeches of recognition, hand out certificates to each camper, and announce the final points tallies.

Vinnie and Chris giving speeches and certificates

Although it was extremely close (one point!), the "Super Blues" scraped by with the win and took home the coveted first prize of a soccer ball for each team member. VALOR was a great experience for the boys who participated, because it offered them the opportunity for so many "firsts": traveling outside their hometowns, being encouraged to use their natural leadership skills, going down a water slide, meeting boys from other provinces, being in a camp setting, having someone show them how to correctly use a condom, visiting a university campus, being told they should set goals for their future and make plans to achieve them, having a forum to discuss the problem of alcoholism in Peruvian society, etc. etc. - the list goes on. Helping these boys learn, play, and grow together over the course of the weekend was also an exhausting, but incredibly fulfilling experience for us as volunteers - although we put in a lot of work to run youth camps like VALOR and ALMA, we have so much fun doing it that we're already looking forward to the next one.

Birthday blog

My sister Clara and I have a lot in common, but we also differ in many ways. One of our differences regards the content of my blog: Clara thinks that her key-family-member-to-the-author status warrants that her name be mentioned every so often in this digital space, while I believe that, since this blog's topic is my life abroad in Peru, posts about my stateside little sister are not exactly relevant. This is an ongoing debate between us, which I doubt will ever reach a satisfactory conclusion, but today, Clara is about to win a major point: a direct shout-out on the blog.

In two days, my sister will turn 20 years old, and this is a big deal: two whole decades of life completed. Seems like only yesterday she was a five year-old with a bowl haircut whose favorite activity was making new friends: at family restaurant outings she'd spend the duration of dinner waddling around introducing herself and chatting at all the other tables. Clara has always had a way with people :) Anyway, since I am heading out this afternoon for our weekend-long Camp VALOR (72 hours of fun and exhaustion with 35 high school boys), I will not have the internet access I'd need to be able to call Clara on Saturday to wish her a happy birthday. So instead, I'm making this Clara's official birthday blog. Happy birthday Clara, I'll be thinking about you and sending lots of love and hugs from Peru!

#catholiccountryproblems

Tonight Jess and I had the first meeting of what will hopefully become an ongoing group of adolescent health promotors: the idea is that we teach them about healthy lifestyles, planning for the future, etc., and they in turn teach their peers. As we were discussing what topics would be important to include over the course of the group's year of meetings, one student suggested we talk about the role of religion and spirituality in our lives. One of the hospital doctors who's co-leading the group with Jess and I said that was a great idea, and even went on to add, "but remember, it's not important what religion you belong to, since there are many different paths people choose to take." I had about half a second to be quite surprised and proud of the doctor for having such an open mind about religious diversity, since the more common Peruvian motto is something more like, "if you aren't Catholic you're going to hell." But then, she finished her sentence: "the important thing is that whatever religion you choose leads you to God, since He is the same for everyone on Earth" (cue face-palm by Meghan and Jessica). I guess we should be happy that at least half of the doctora's idea was progressive... guess we just won't be talking about atheists, Hindus, etc. in this youth group.

You're invited: Peruvian parties

One of the groups I work with in Cajabamba, a women's community service organization, hosted a fancy lunch party this week in honor of Mother's Day. Since Peruvian-style celebrations have some interesting quirks, I thought I'd share a few of these eccentricities. So here we go, a recipe for a Peruvian party:

1. Arrival, hora peruana. If the lunch is scheduled to start at 1:00, no one will arrive at 1:00. Parties, more so than any other type of Peruvian gathering, operate on hora peruana, which means that arriving half an hour late puts you seriously on the early side - go do another six laps around the plaza and come back, then maybe you won't be the only one there.

2. Await the arrival of all the guests. This is inevitably done while sitting in an awkward circle of chairs around the very edge of the living room, while music plays on a stereo and people talk in quiet voices amongst themselves. The concept of mingling is unheard of - the only time you move from your chair is to stand up and greet each additional guest that arrives, since they go around the room's circle saludar-ing each and every person, even if they don't know each other.
3. Once everyone important has arrived, you can start whatever the party's main activity is. In this case, we could all finally sit down at the lunch table. Do not make the mistake of thinking that lunch will actually be served at this point - the process has only just begun.
4. Before any food or drink can be served, the host has to "give words" (dar palabras). Basically, they make a speech welcoming everyone to the event, specifically naming and thanking all the various groups or important individuals who are present for coming, and talking at length about how pleased they are about the event/how important the event is/why it's important/etc. If there is more than one host, it is likely that each will give some palabras of their own - these palabras will not be in any way different from those of the other hosts, but it is important in social custom that every person of significance give their own palabras. Sometimes guests will also feel the need to dar some palabras... you can see how these welcome speeches can easily turn into a very long affair.

My host mom, Lourdes, making her speech

5. Once sufficient words have been given, it's time for the toast. You'd think that the toast and the palabras could be combined, but at a Peruvian party they are two totally distinct, not-to-be-confused parts of the agenda. A beverage will be served in miniature cups to each guest - the drink of choice could be pisco sours, soda, beer, or, in this case, Peruvian wine (sweet and dessert-like). Then the designated toaster will give their toast - to the undiscerning gringo eye, the toast will be very similar to the palabras that have already been given, but the fact that it is in the form of a toast makes it totally different in Peruvian eyes.

Enraptured listeners enjoy the toast

6. At last, the food can be served! But don't even think about getting up to serve yourself. Even if there is a display of food arranged on a buffet table, the guests never serve themselves (even if it's an eight year-old's birthday party where the food table is filled with grab-worthy snacks). The host will make up a plate for you and bring it to you.
7. At a Peruvian luncheon, there are a minimum of three courses. First is the appetizer. Most commonly it is some sort of soup, but there are other possibilities as well. For example, at this week's party we had jamón serrano (mountain ham) served over a "salad" of onions and yuca. The appetizer is typically the size of a meal in itself, so if you are a gringa who cannot eat two large, meat-filled meals in one sitting, it's prudent to limit yourself accordingly, if you can get away with it. Peruvian guests will, as is polite, finish everything on their plates, but a gringa with a clever excuse (or a hungry host dad sitting next to her) can sometimes get out of eating every last bite.

Delicious jamón serrano

8. The next course is the segundo (main dish). On special occasions, it is likely to be stewed or fried cuy - paw and all! While I could do without the still-attached claws, I actually quite enjoy the taste of cuy. Plus, Peruvians get a huge kick out of the fact that the gringa likes their traditional dish, and eating it happily always wins me some brownie points. Anyway, whatever the meat of the segundo happens to be, it will definitely be served with a plentiful helping of rice and potatoes. Again, decorum says you should finish everything on your plate - good luck.

Cuy stew over rice and potatoes

9. Dessert. Peruvian desserts are pretty hit-or-miss: there are winners like arroz con leche, and there are others that I avoid like the plague, like mazamorra, a jello-like substance made from purple corn and eight million pounds of sugar. It's luck of the draw, but again, you must eat whatever you are served.

And that's about it! For other, non-luncheon Peruvian parties, there's sure to be dancing involved at some point. If it's someone's birthday, their face will inevitably be pushed into the cake when they go to blow out the candles - everyone knows it's coming, but no one ever gets out of it. Peruvian fiestas definitely have their oddities, but you learn to just embrace the awkwardness and have a good time.

Reminding Don Ricardo

Every Tuesday and Thursday, I have my youth entrepreneurship class. We meet in the afternoons at one of the local high schools, where the Director agreed to give me classroom space to hold the course. However, since the high school only has class in the mornings, there aren't a whole lot of staff members around after lunch. This means that I have to make sure to remind the custodian to leave my classroom open, before he heads home for the day.

As a result, I've developed an amusing little Tuesday-Thursday ritual. Each morning at around 11:30, I call Don Ricardo, the custodian, and each time we have the following conversation:

Me: Hola Don Ricardo, buenos días, how are you doing today?
Don Ricardo: All right, just here working, how are you señorita?
Me: Good, good. Don Ricardo, could you leave the classroom open for me this afternoon?
Don Ricardo: Of course, no hay ningún problema, at what time?
Me: At 3:30 please.
Don Ricardo: Muy bien, will do.
Me: Thank you, chau!

Every time I hang up the phone, I chuckle to myself, because our chats are pretty much word-for-word identical every single Tuesday and Thursday. You would think that Don Ricardo would be annoyed that this gringa calls him all the time to remind him to do a simple task, which, five weeks into it, he should be perfectly capable of remembering on his own. But I know with almost total certainty that if one morning I decided not to call Don Ricardo, my classroom door would not be open that afternoon - that is just not how Peru works. So I keep calling. And I remember to be grateful that at least I managed to get Don Ricardo's phone number (and that he always answers!), because otherwise I'd be trekking down to the school every morning to physically hunt him down and remind him - the phone calls are quite an improvement.

Peru, Nebraska

The town of Peru, Nebraska is a real place. Its residents are also "Peruvians," although I'm sure very few of them have ever been to the other Peru. A couple years ago, Peru's (the country) national tourism office had the clever idea of using this naming coincidence to promote Peruvian culture and tourism in the U.S. So, they loaded up a bright red bus with the best Peruvian culture has to offer (ingredients for typical dishes, famous chefs, Inca Kola, renowned marinera dancers and musicians, one of the country's top surfers, and much more), and headed north on the Pan-American, not stopping until they were smack in the middle of unsuspecting middle America. The result is a brilliant video where Peruvian Nebraskans learn what it means to be a real "Peruvian." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_xBZcVEH1I

A sushi miracle

For the past few months, we Cajamarca volunteers have been hearing rumors of a sushi restaurant in our regional capital. After finding the purported location closed a number of times, we had almost given up hope, when last week a friend confirmed that the elusive eatery was now indeed open for business. I must say that my expectations were not high, since my only other Peruvian sushi experience was a Lima fiasco that involved a ground beef-topped roll and way too much cream cheese. But we figured we'd give the Cajamarca sushi scene it's fair shot. Turns out that was probably the best decision I've made since joining Peace Corps - it was a delicious sushi miracle! Real chopsticks, Japanese-style plates and decor, wasabi and ginger, high-quality fish, and real-deal dipping sauces. 

With each roll that came out of the kitchen, Chris, Jackie and I went into a further state of shock - could this good of sushi truly exist in our humble mountain city? Not only was I eating one of my favorite foods in a very unlikely location, but that sushi was a wonderful little taste of home... although of course nothing can compare to the conveyor belt at Sushi Yama :)

So pumped about our sushi!

One potato, two potato, three potato, four...

Foodie fact of the day: Peru is the original homeland of the potato. That's right: the potato was born not in Idaho, not in Ireland, but in the Peruvian Andes, a.k.a. my backyard. Any Peruvian worth his salt can tell you that there are over 3,000 varieties of potatoes grown in Peru: blue, purple, gold, orange, white, yellow, red, and brown potatoes; sweet and bitter potatoes; small, large, round, skinny, twisted, and lumpy potatoes... the list goes on.

Not only are Peruvians proud of their potato-heritage fame, but they also take full dietary advantage of it. Particularly in the mountains and in the campo, it is common to find the potato in attendance at all three daily meals: some kind of soup with potatoes for breakfast, a meat-rice-potatoes combo for lunch, and the leftovers of lunch for dinner. 

Like most PCVs arriving in Peru, the ubiquitous presence of the potato in my host-country diet did not thrill me. While it was interesting to taste the true extent of the variety of Peruvian tubers, I thought the potato was one of the world's less exciting vegetables, and was not keen to add what I viewed as just another carbohydrate to the already rice-heavy meals my host mother prepared.

However, reading Michael Pollan's "The Botany of Desire" this week, I learned that the Peruvians' potato-heavy menu is not so illogical after all - apparently the potato is pretty nutritious! "A diet of potatoes supplemented with cow's milk was nutritionally complete. In addition to energy in the form of carbohydrates, potatoes supplied considerable amounts of protein and vitamins B and C; all that was missing was vitamin A, and that a bit of milk could make up." So apparently the potato has its merits, and Peru's spud-loving campesinos aren't so crazy after all.

May flowers

Today, May 1st, is a national holiday in Peru. Officially, it's international labor day, so the workers of the world are honored with a day off. However in reality, Peruvians in the sierra use May Day to celebrate florecer (flowering): the same basic idea expressed in the English saying "April showers bring May flowers." May marks the end of the rainy season, and the supposed emergence of flowers in the meadows, and it's a campo tradition to spend the day outside celebrating and honoring mother nature.