The lies we tell

I recently realized that I tell a good number of small white lies on a daily basis here. It's not something I'm proud of, but nor am I at all ashamed of it - lying is not ideal, but these minor untruths make my Peruvian life a lot more livable. I'll give you the rundown of my most common misinformations (in no particular order)...

• I studied international economics in college. (Reality: Peruvians would not understand what "international development," or worse, "Comparative Regional Studies of Latin America and the Middle East," mean - those aren't majors here. So I approximate.)
• I have a Masters in Public Administration. (I almost do, and most casual interactions don't warrant a five-minute explanation of the Masters International program.)
• I live in Washington. (In itself, this is not a lie - I do indeed live in Washington state. But I'm well aware that if I just say "Washington," Peruvians assume Washington DC, since most do not know Washington state exists. I do not correct this mis-assumption.)
• I have a boyfriend in America. (I obviously do not. This is one of those for-my-own-safety lies, often used with male counterparts or out at night in Cajamarca. It is fully necessary.)
• I don't drink alcohol. (I do, but almost never in Cajabamba. Drinking here would mean drinking in front of my counterparts and my students - not the image I want to project, so I lie to get out of it.)
• I am a vegetarian. (99% of Peruvian lunches involve meat and rice, and not much else. People notice that I eat "strangely" here: very little meat, very little rice. If they ask if I'm a vegetarian, I typically just say yes - try explaining 'pescatarian' or the reasoning behind a low-meat diet to a Peruvian.)
• Peace Corps doesn't let me ___ (e.g., teach English). (People are persistent in asking for what they want, even if they know it's something you don't want to do. Sometimes the only solution is to use Peace Corps as a big brother and say my hands are tied.)
• I have a meeting/class/commitment, so I can't ___ (e.g., come to your boring event that really has nothing to do with my work). (See previous bullet - sometimes a simple "no" just doesn't do the trick.)
• I am a Christian. (Literally every Peruvian I know is Christian, and 99% of them are Catholic. Non-religiosity is not only very rare, but also frowned upon and somewhat of a social taboo. I try very hard to avoid these conversations, but if pressed I will opt for Christian rather than a truth that could affect my relationships in my community.)
• I have to travel next week for a Peace Corps meeting. (Sometimes this is true, but other times I'm really just traveling for fun. To avoid giving the impression that I'm a gringa with dollars to spare, sometimes I lie.)

On an average day, I probably tell about three of these little white lies. To clarify, I don't tell them to everyone - my host family, and my Peruvian counterparts and friends who I've actually gotten to know get the real truth. The lies are for acquaintances: for the lady behind me in line or next to me on the bus who strikes up a conversation; for the male socio who's giving off a sleazy vibe; for the cousin who shows up to lunch who I'll meet once and never see again; for the restaurant owner who wants to know why I only ate the lentils and onions but no pork; etc. In a context where I'm constantly explaining myself, who I am, what I'm doing, and where I come from, these lies are a survival tactic.

Things I will miss about Peru, v.1

Delicious daily fruit salad breakfasts, at the cost of less than $1 per day.

Struggles of a Peruvian panda bear

This picture was so special it deserved a blog post of its own… When we arrived at Pastoruri glacier, milling about among the other tourists in front of the ice, we encountered this fellow:

In case you can't tell, that is a Peruvian man wearing a panda costume. Here's how our conversation went:

Me: Hello sir, what kind of bear are you? [I decided to start with this, just in case he thought his costume looked like some sort of bear that does live in Peru.]
Panda: Umm, you know, a panda bear. [Nope, he knows he's a panda, though it did take him a few seconds to remember the name.]
Me: I see. And what does a panda bear have to do with a glacier?
Panda: Ummm… (turns to look up at the ice in search of answers)
Me: I mean, why are you here dressed as a panda?
Panda: [Smiles in relief at a question he can easily answer] For the tourists! To take photos with the tourists. [he still hasn't answered my original question, but I've given up on finding reason here]
Me: Ohhh, the tourists.
Panda: Yes, they like to take photos with me, by the glacier. I only do it during popular times: Easter, Fiestas Patrias, etc. Usually I have a photographer with me - (gestures to paws) - it's hard to do this alone.
Me: Ah, of course. Because of the costume.
Panda: Yes… (pause) … do you want to take a photo with me?

Into the mountains

I spent Easter week exploring yet another area of Peru's geographical diversity: Ancash. Ancash is a mountainous region of the country located just north of Lima - similar to my home turf of Cajamarca, but with much higher mountains. The nevados (snow-capped peaks) of the Cordillera Blanca section of the Andes make the region a mecca for international mountaineers, and make for some amazing views and fun trekking for any outdoor enthusiast.

Nydelis and Steve in the plaza of Huaraz, Ancash's regional capital

While my coast-living companions were acclimatizing to the altitude, we took a day trip to see some local sights. First stop: slopes home to Puya Raimondi, a plant in the pineapple family that only grows at elevations between 12,000-14,000 feet, and now only in Peru and Bolivia. Quite a quirky plant, both in looks and growing patterns, that seems like it belongs in a Dr. Seuss book.

Then we headed up to Pastoruri glacier, at over 16,400 feet. Some not-so-fun facts about glaciers in Peru: Peru is home to 71% of the world's tropical glaciers, but 22% of their surface area has disappeared in the past 30 years. Pastoruri is unfortunately expected to disappear within ten years, having already melted to half its former size in two decades. It's not only sad to watch this beautiful ice drip away, but every inch that melts also intensifies Peru's already extreme water shortage - not good.

Pastoruri, and the lakes created by its melting waters

The next day began the week's main adventure: the Santa Cruz trek, a 3-day overnight through the high mountains (between 9,500 and 15,600 feet!), known for its breath-taking views - literally and figuratively - and exposure to a variety of the sierra's microclimates. Day one started with a long but beautiful drive deep into the mountains, with views of nevados including Peru's highest peak (Huascarán, 22,205 feet), and teal-bright glacial lakes.

Midway through the drive, looking back on the road we'd traveled

Once we arrived at our starting point (the end of the road), we had a nice afternoon's walk through very pastoral settings: adobe houses with straw or tile roofs, fields of quinoa and corn, and hills radiating green from five months of rainy season. We had lots of trail friends: sheep, goats, burros, cows, etc. - sometimes so many we could barely all fit on the path!

Naturally, it rained the majority of the afternoon. In hindsight, this was probably the muddiest time of year we could've possibly picked to trek, but we'd come (somewhat) prepared, and didn't let the water get the best of us. The valleys took on a different kind of beauty, dressed in fog and dewdrops - particularly the polylepis trees with their flaky, tissue-paper-esque red bark.

Camp that night was at 12,450 feet, on ground that resembled a glorified swamp - luckily the rain stopped, and we woke to clear light illuminating the snowy peaks the clouds had hidden the previous afternoon. From there it was up-up-up into steeper and more stark terrain: meadows with only grasses for flora, topped by sheer rock walls enveloped in snow and clouds.

A ghostly reflection in one of the many small lagunas along the trail

After about five hours, we reached the trek's highest point: Punta Unión pass, at 15,580 feet. Even here, the snow line remained above us - welcome to mountaineering in the tropics! The pass offered amazing views of the surrounding snowy peaks (including one Artesonraju, rumored to be the model for the Paramount Pictures logo) and the lagunas and valley below.

We walked down into the valley a ways to camp at 13,780 feet. It wasn't too chilly at first, but a dinnertime rain quickly turned to sleet, then snow! Since it wasn't quite cold enough for the snow to stick, our campsite turned into one huge puddle, and the trek company hadn't provided us with ground-cloths - uh-oh! Since I'm here to write this, you know we survived the night - check camping in a snowstorm off the life list!

Our campsite in the afternoon, pre-snow

The morning-after pic - compare the snow levels on that first mountain with the shot from 12 hours earlier

Our trek crew, bundled up! (me, Nydelis, Steve, Hallie)

Luckily that was the last rain of the trip, and our final day was a long sunny trek down the valley back towards civilization. We walked alongside a river for the majority of the day, which was fed by countless waterfalls and streams tumbling down the rock walls from the nevados high above.

Alpamayo and some waterfalls

Gym chats

The Cajabamba "gym" has just been a constant source of amusement this week! As I mentioned in my last post, there are rarely other people working out - exercise is just not a common habit in rural Peru. But this morning there were two ladies already at the gym when I arrived - instant friends. The gym is perceived as a social activity here; none of this zone-out-to-your-own-headphones business like in the States. So we greeted each other with smiles and "good mornings," and I went about stretching and turning on the treadmill.

Lady #1 walks over, amiably looks me up and down, and asks, "So why do you come to the gym?," her skeptical eyes clearly betraying the unsaid second half of her question: "because a tall skinny gringuita like you can't be here to lose weight!" (Two notes here: 1) I personally lay no claims to skinniness, but the Peruvian señoras all tend to think of me as such - it's all relative; and 2) Pretty much the only reason Peruvian women come to the gym is in the hopes of losing weight - exercising just as a normal habit doesn't exist.) I reply that I come to stay in shape and to be healthy, and my new friend agrees that those are good reasons. 

I proceed to start the treadmill, while my two new friends chat openly about their current weights and how many kilos they'd like to lose - the subject is not at all taboo in Peru. I start jogging, and Lady #1 exclaims, "you run like that?!" (but in a friendly way - the whole following conversation is held in the kindest and sincerest of spirits).

Me: "ummm… yes?" (clueless as to which aspect of my running she's referring to)

Lady #2: "Yes Irma, she runs a lot, I've seen her when she goes running out in the fields."

Lady #1: "Ohhh, would you look at that!" Silence while both ladies unabashedly watch me running for a few seconds, with me awkwardly looking back at them and trying to appear friendly. Then: "What pace do you start at? Five kilometers per hour?" Her guess is the equivalent of 3.1 mph, a pace I could calmly walk at.

Me: "No, I start at 9kph, to warm up, then go a little higher."

Ladies: "Wow, que rápido!" Lady #2 reminds her friend that I am indeed a real runner; she's seen me.

Lady #1: "And look, she doesn't even hold on! Her arms move like that; that's how you have to do it if you really want to run." 

At this point I do very strange face contortions to avoid laughing or goofily grinning. I confirm that yes, moving one's arms does indeed enable faster running. The ladies decide that next time, they're going to try running like that. As they gather their things to leave, I notice that Lady #1 is wearing a fashionable sort of "sneaker" that in fact has a high heel built into it. I debate warning her that she should absolutely not do anything but walk in those shoes, but decide it'd be better for our budding friendship if I just let her figure that out on her own. 

Tired treadmills

Cajabamba recently acquired a "gym," a.k.a. the bottom floor of this lady's house that now has a couple bikes, a couple treadmills, and some weights. For about a dollar per visit, I now have a place where I can run without any lecherous stares - hooray!

Today however, the gym lady caught a glimpse of my time on the machine - 32 minutes - and informed me that I was violating her "25-minute limit" on the treadmills. I was a bit perplexed, as there wasn't (and rarely ever is) anybody else working out, not to mention waiting for my machine, so I asked why there was such a rule. She replied, "because the machines get very hot, and I need to take care of them." Ohhhhh Peru.

I obligingly quit the treadmill, and went to stretch and contemplate my options. Plan A: attempt to explain to this woman that treadmills were built for running, no one wants to run for only 25 minutes, and that using a machine for longer than 25 minutes will not cause it to explode. I didn't foresee myself having much success with this option, so I went for Plan B: apologize for over-tiring the workout machine, but then explain that there's no way I'm going to keep coming in to pay for a 25-minute-limited treadmill. Thankfully, we reached a compromise: I am now the gym's official "exception to the rule," and am allowed to use the machine for however long it takes me to run 5km. Not ideal, but it'll get me through the next three months.

GenEq workshop

One of GenEq's big projects this year was holding regional workshops to train PCVs and teacher counterparts on promoting gender equity in their communities, as well as how to use the committee's new vocational orientation manual in their classrooms. I was in charge of Cajamarca's workshop, which took place this Saturday, and successfully trained 31 participants.

Introducing the first session - why talk about gender equity in Peru?

Small group work to learn more about the vocational orientation lesson plans

Practicing some of the activities from the lesson plans - this one's called "spiderweb"

The whole group

Peruvian suitcases

This is a Peruvian suitcase. It is a plastic (tarp-like material) bag approximately the size of your standard U.S. paper grocery bag, with a zipper along the top. They do come in larger versions, but this less unwieldy one is my preferred size. It may seem odd to you to call a glorified plastic bag a suitcase, but this is not joke; the majority of suitcases I see loaded onto buses here - and even a good portion of those brought onto airplanes - are exactly this variety. Peruvians consider this a perfectly good and normal suitcase - and they're right! While I would prefer that it come with straps long enough to reach over my shoulder, this plaid beauty has become my favorite transport companion for any short jaunt away from site. Indeed, I plan on bringing my Peruvian suitcase back stateside with me, so I'm sure we have a long life ahead of further travels together.

Jammin'

My host mom is an expert jam-maker - I've personally enjoyed her strawberry, blackberry, and sauco jams, and all are delicious. Currently, it's sauco season - a round red-purple berry the size of a miniature grape, native to the Peruvian mountains. Over the past month or so, Lourdes has made at least three different batches of jam, patiently sitting and stirring the berries as they come to a boil, get sugar added, and boil again...