Peruvian Cell Phone Etiquette

James Bond

My first official act as a Peace Corps Volunteer was to grow a mustache.  You might be wondering what my second official act was.  I'll enlighten you.  In the long dark nights (my family goes to sleep at 8pm) I have watched and ranked all of the James Bond movies.  Enjoy!  P.S.: I do real things.  I currently am teaching summer school every morning.

1. Dr. No
2. Goldfinger
3. The Spy Who Loved Me
4. Thunderball
5. You Only Live Twice
6. Skyfall
7. The Man with the Golden Gun
8. Casino Royale
9. From Russia With Love
10. Goldeneye
11. The Living Daylights
12. Moonraker
13. Quanuam of Solace
14. License to Kill
15. Tomorrow Never Dies
16. A View to a Kill
17. For Your Eyes Only
18. On Her Majesty's Secret Service
19. The World Is Not Enough
20. Live and Let Die
21. Die Another Day
22. Octopussy
23. Diamonds are Forever

A very Peruvian New Year's

Bombs are exploding overhead and people fill the streets.  Shouts ring out down the street, clouds of smoke following the screams.  Looking down the hill you see countless fires raging in the streets, illuminating their surroundings.  “Where am I?” you wonder aloud in a language that few people around you understand.  Is this some strange war zone you are in?  No, this is Peru.  Happy New Year’s.

The New Year’s celebration is Peru is strikingly different from that in the states.  Sure there is drinking, dancing, and food to go around, but there is also so much more than that.  In a country rooted in traditions, it’s no surprise that there customs that extend beyond the immediate joy that surrounds a one night party.  Everything is done for the upcoming year.  The color of underwear you wear brings certain things in the coming year, yellow brings luck, red brings love, green brings success, white brings peace.  Do you want to travel more in the coming year?  If so, grab a suitcase and run around the block.  Why does everyone have 12 grapes?  Obviously each grape represents a month and when you eat them you make a wish for the month.  You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Yeah that all makes sense, but what’s up with all those fires in the street?”  Well those fires start out as life size dolls fully dressed in clothes complete with hats, shoes, sunglasses, and anything else a person might wear.  At midnight these dolls are then burnt.  Why?  I haven’t a clue.  If I had to guess, I would say it brings you luck in the coming year or something along those lines.

So how does a gringo navigate this holiday?

Lucas, my site mate, and I were fortunate enough to have our friend and fellow volunteer, Rebby, in town for a visit.  We started our night off at the dance club.  Yes my town has a club.  Several actually.  After polishing off several beers we decide it would be best to go dance, which is always a spectacle for Peruvians to watch.  After about 30 minutes of dancing the clock struck 11:50pm and we flock to the streets.  Rebby has prior engagements with her family so we walk her home, taking note of the best, worst, and funniest dolls we find. 

After dropping Rebby off, we wait patiently at the top of hill for the clock to strike midnight.  Conversations are difficult as the aforementioned bombs (fireworks) are nearly constant.  I’m sure many of you are thinking, “Wow constant fireworks?  That must have been a site to see!”  Well not really.  These fireworks simply make a loud bang.  No color, no design, all noise.  At midnight the dolls are lit and everybody hugs.  I mean everybody.  Random guy on the street, hug him.  A troupe of 7 year olds, hug them.  Lady cooking food, hug her. 

As we walk through town taking in this strange spectacle we remember a party we were invited to.  As we are relatively new in town we try to attend all social functions, gatherings, hangouts, or meetings that we are invited to.  But as is the gringos way in small town Peru, we were sidetracked along the way.

There are about a dozen people I will always stop to talk to, one of which is our mayor.  As we were walking we happened to see the mayor and his family outside their house, so of course we strike up conversation.  After the initial greetings we were invited in for hot chocolate and paneton (the most amazing cake/bread food in the world).  Of course we accept.  Sitting in our mayor’s living room watching an American concert, we are approached by a relative that we met earlier in the day.  This man sure knows how to celebrate the new years.  He offers us aguardiente (not sure how to spell it, but it is moonshine made from sugar cane). 

Now, if you are new to the world of Peruvian moonshine there are a few things you should know.  First of all, it is strong.  And when I say strong, I mean strong.  They measure the strength in grados.  Grado 26 is something like 160 proof.  I think the max is grado 29, but I have been told many different things.  The second thing to note is that it is cheap.  You can buy a half liter water bottle full of the stuff for S/. 4 (the Peruvian currency is the Nuevo Sole.  S/. 2.80 = $1) and that’s the gringo price when you don’t know the guy selling.  When you know the person you can get a liter for S/. 3.00.  The third thing to know is that Peruvians, especially men in the age range of 40 - whenever they die, love the stuff.  Also, think about the safety and sanitation you expect and are used to when you buy liquor.  With this stuff, forget about it.  Dirty bottles, dirty hands, bugs and other things floating in it, it’s a whole new world.  But then again, people pay more money for tequila with worms in it…

But anyways, we are offered and we accept, its rude to refuse.  This is a good blend that he had crafted.  People usually will mix thing in with their aguardiente to improve the flavor.  This bottle had honey mixed into it, and was fairly tasty.  A glass of hot chocolate, a piece of paneton and three drinks (any other number is apparently unlucky on New Year’s) later we left giving gratitude to our hosts as we leave.  The streets were alive and fires still blazed but we were leaving early for the jungle for following morning and made our separate ways, me to the bottom of the hill and Lucas to the top.

The social aspects of breastfeeding

A special edition of Oh Hey, Peru!  As everyone knows breastfeeding is important for kids.  While everyone knows this, the United States is lacking the social aspect of breastfeeding.  Here are my top 5 favorite places I have seen breastfeeding

1) While giving a speech
2) On a motorcycle
3) In line at a bank
4) While selling fruit
5) While signing papers to receive government supplied milk

This time on Oh Hey, Peru

• Field Based Training
• Link to Video

Field Based Training

Several weeks ago (about 6 I believe) all the programs had an event called Field Based Training.  This was an event that ranged from 4 days (for the Health Program) to 7 days (for the Water and Sanitation program).  Field Based Training is pretty much what it sounds like, training in the field.

The lucky WASH program piled onto a bus for a trip to the department of Ica.  Ica is in the coastal region of Peru and is home to grape fields as far as the eye can see.  In this department they make wine and Pisco.  The wine is sweeter than church wine (almost like cough syrup) and the Pisco is great.  If you’ve got some time on your hands learn how to make a Pisco Sour, it’s a delicious drink and based on the fact that eggs are involved, I believe it is healthy.  Besides the quality drink menu, Ica is home to some of the hottest weather and fiercest sun I remember being in, in my mind it is pretty much a huge desert.

Our first two nights were spent in Ica City.  This is a fairly large city with lots of attractions, including a pizza/ice cream restaurant that we discovered immediately.  If you want to see a feeding frenzy, simply load 16, 22-26 year olds onto a bus for 9 hours, feed them terrible vegetarian lasagna, the set them loose on a pizza/ice cream shop.  It’s impressive.  With our days choc full of activities starting at 7:30 am we did the most logical thing and drank a beers on the roof of our hostel.

 7:30 the next day we took a 20min cab ride to a small town called Santiago.  Here we listened to presentations for 6hours.  There is nothing exciting to report during this time except I ate about 17 popsicles.  The next two hours were spent preparing presentations about hand washing for children in the school the next morning.  After 6 hours of not thinking in any language it is hard to become creative in a language that is not your first, but I believe that my teaching partner, Brian, and I created a teaching plan that will forever be remembered.

Hand washing is a very important topic when it comes to public health, especially when it comes to children.  We were teaching children age 5-7, which I’m pretty sure is about 1^st or 2^nd grade.  What I have learned through my previous Peace Corps work at school is that teaching is a slippery slope.  If a lesson is boring, kids won’t pay attention and participate, if the lesson is too fun chaos will erupt in your classroom.  With this class, I think we fell in the too fun/chaos category. 

Brian entered the room and gave introductions, following which, I, dressed as a bandit in a straw hat, cape made of trash bags, and a mask made of trash bags storm into the room.  I was Senor German (pronounced Herman.  The Spanish word for germs is germens, thus I was Mr. Germ).  I announced that my goal was to infect every person in the world with illnesses, following which we had a hand washing race using Tippy-Taps (google it).  To make a long story short, chaos erupted, water was everywhere, and I was covered in glitter (representing germs).

Our next stop was a town called Palpa.  We stayed here for two nights, and I proceeded to eat 7 cheeseburgers.  While in this town we roamed through the dessert with 22 people in a van made for 15.  In this dessert, we toured a water system that was built about 30 years ago by the Canadians.  From what little I know about Canadians, the one thing I can say for certain is that they build hearty water supply systems in developing countries.  This system has never had a single problem since its construction during the mid ‘80s, quite impressive for a system in the middle of the dessert in a developing country.

Following our tour of the system we were instructed to give interviews about household water use.  The only problem with giving interviews in the middle of the dessert is that there are very few people, and on this occasion, the houses we found were severely lacking people.  Some interview groups spoke with 6 year olds, my group stopped a guy on a motorcycle who doesn’t even live in the area, other groups simply wandered down a dusty dirt road searching for people.  We arrived back to our hostel 3 hours later than scheduled, all hot, all sweaty, all tired, and all hungry.  It was a pretty terrible day. 

The following day we traveled further into the Ica heat for reservoir disinfection.  This proved much more entertaining than the previous day’s desert exploration.  Now, the protocol may differ in different countries, but to clean a reservoir in Peru you pretty much throw super concentrated chlorine on the walls and scrub them with a grubby broom.  Pretty fun stuff, but terribly hard on your clothes.  Every item of clothing I wore is now poka-dotted from chlorine splashing off the walls.

After several days in the hot desert sun, any good working crew would need a break.  We were lucky and were given the opportunity to visit an oasis, pretty much a pond in the dessert where you can swim and drink beer.  A great way to relax and a great way to get sunburned.  Following cheeseburgers, we were shown the town by the Peace Corps volunteer that lives there.  Significantly better than the previous day. 

The next two days consisted of traveling, sweating, and being spoken to.  Both were good days with plenty of learning experiences, however they seem to have escaped my memory at this moment in time.  I suppose that says something about our trip, and training in general.  The days are intense and filled with learning.  Like little sponges we try to soak up as much knowledge as we can, but like any sponge I have ever used, we are unable to retain all. 

Field based training was a super fun time in a place I don’t really intend to visit again.  Ica is a desert.  Deserts are not for me. 

Check out this sweet video about Peace Corps Peru 22 (my group)!

Coming Soon (I promise)

•   Site Visits
• Going Away Party
• Swearing in
• Post Swearing In
• First Week in Site

It was a cool and still that night in Lima.  For me it was unusually cool for me.  I was dressed as a robot created out of boxes and 17 soles in silver spray paint, however I was shaking harder than a 1980's station wagon with no shocks on a gravel road.  

The occasion for the robot, you ask?  Quite simply, a standard Thursday night in Peru.  Or, more likely, Halloween.  All the new volunteers were invited to the country director’s house in Lima for a Halloween party featuring cheeseburgers, dancing, and socializing with the staff.  For most that attended, this was a night to remember.  For me, it was a night I hope to forget.  

We arrived in Lima after an hour and a half on a hot combi surrounded by cars, trucks, and smog.  We were all anxious to get out, stretch our legs, and of course, eat some hamburgers.  With the help of some aspirantes, I transform into a robot in a matter of seconds and am ready to party.  With extremely limited peripheral vision I make my way to the house and am greeted by the Peace Corps Peru program director, Zorro and his gypsy wife.

After 90 minutes of pushing fluids on the combi, I feel a sudden need to relieve myself and rush to the bathroom.  Shocked and distressed by the amount of monsters, pirates, and ninjas already inline, I turn to find a new restroom.  As I turn, I am confronted by a man about 80 years old.  Seemingly frightned, he says to me, “My God, what in the world are you?”

“A robot, Sir.  Do you like it?” I ask the elderly man.

Shaking his head with fear in his eyes his response is to walk away, seemingly pondering the interaction he had just been apart of.

After a brief stint in the bathroom, prolonged by the difficulty in removing my corrugated robot, I decide it is time to do what robots do best and hit the dance floor.  What people who have never pretended to be robots may not know, is that the robot dance move is surprisingly diverse and when done correctly, applicable to all songs.  After 20 minutes of being thoroughly impressed by some intense, mechanical movements the folks with cameras decide it is picture time. 

Photos follow more photos, with each pose and orientation blending into one in my mind.  Robot & ninja fights.  Robot & cuy vs ninjas.  Pirates and gypsys.  Gypsys and cuy.  Pirate Robot.  Robot cuy.  The photos that were taken are endless and a constant reminder of what transpired that night.  The Camera Brigade was broken up by the start of a speech from Zorro, the program director. 

The start of speeches in Peru always leaves me worried.  It seems that there is an unwritten rule or tradition when it comes to speeches in Peru in that each speech must be longer and more longwinded than the previous speech.  This can lead to hours of speeches all saying nearly the identical thing.  Not knowing if Zorro was intending to following Peruvian rules, standard speech rules where you say what you feel and move on, or some new set of rules I am unaccustomed to, I was fearful for the time.

Thankfully, the speech was short and was followed by a Pisco Sour toast.  Following which, the burgers were served.  Ravenous, our rag tag group of monsters, pirates, and ninjas crowded around the grill, anxious for what was about to be ingested in the coming minutes.  I had been sick earlier that morning, and was unsure what my frail, metallic robot body could withstand.  The smells of the grill, however, overcame all sense of caution and I loaded up a plate with a burger, salad, watermelon, and potato salad.

Halfway through the burger I knew something was wrong.  I was shaking uncontrollably and had suddenly lost my voracious appetite and was hit with a cold feeling the likes of which I have never felt.  Quickly donning the two ladies fleece jackets that were draped across the back of my chair I scan the area for anything to help my troubling condition.  Spotting a doctor across the yard, I approach and explain my symptoms. 

“Brad!” He exclaims, “You’re shaking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” I reply, arms shaking and shoulders hunched in ill fitting women’s wear, “It’s uncontrollable.  I’m freezing, I have no appetite, and I’m shaking uncontrollably.  Doctor, I feel like shit.”

“Hmm.” He ponders and he checks my forehead for a fever, “You don’t seem to have a fever.  Why don’t you take Tylenol and call me in the morning.”

“Great, Doctor.  Thanks.” I say sincerely as I walk away towards my table.  Relieved to not have a fever and deciding this illness is a figment of my imagination.

Sitting down at my seat, still shaking uncontrollably, I try to stomach more of my still full plate.  Failing to do so I offer it to the table, where it is snatched immediately by a ninja, who ,in turn for the plate of food, offers some advice.

“Dude, I think you’re dying.  You should at least die where it’s warmer, why don’t you go sit inside.”

Seemingly sound advice, I follow it and direct my body, sans robot, with the addition of two fleeces, indoors.  Placing myself on the couch I sit shivering, making small talk and looking at a book about state parks in Arizona.  Approached by another doctor, to whom I again explain my symptoms.  The doctor, now speaking to Zorro, asks for medicine and a place for me to rest.  Ever the hospitable Zorro, I am handed Tylenol and guided to Zorro’s own bed where I rest fitfully for the remainder of the party. 

Awoken, delirious, several hours later, I am guided back to the combi.  Here I am examined by a nurse, who unlike the other imposters of the night is truly a nurse in real life.  Opening her small medical bag, fully equipped with everything a real or pretend nurse could want, she pulls out a thermometer that scans the forehead and reports the temperature.  After the first take, she looks at the device in disbelief and proceeds to take my temperature twice more.  Still in disbelief, she exclaims, “Brad, you have a temperature of 103°.  And a solid 103° at that.”

Much of the rest of the night is a blur or forgotten from my mind, forever sealed away from recognition by my fever.  40 hours later, I awake from 36 hours of sleep, feeling unrested, ill-tempered, and sore I stagger out of my room and face the day.

Check it, I have a site

What you can look forward to if you read this post:

• Combi driver strikes
• Tres de Octubre Part 2
• Chosica
• Peru Country Clubs
• More pictures
• Peace Corps elections
• MY SITE!!! (more exciting than it sounds, as I know very little about it)

Combi Driver Strikes

Combis, remember those bus like things filled to the brim with people that race down the highway at breakneck speeds that I told you about several episodes ago?  Combis are the main form of transportation for the working men and women in this region of Peru (and possibly other regions but I can’t speak with certainty on that), and as such are relied upon for transportation to and from work, the market, schools, and any other institutions that a person might be interested in attending.  Well based on their extreme importance and necessity, it is only logical that the drivers would go on strike for a day.

From what we understand (which is very little and based on extreme speculation) there are 2-3 main combi companies.  Think of a combi company like a cab company where they have a bunch of vehicles that people drive.  One of the main combi companies has a history of traffic violations, infractions, recklessness, and various other wrong doings.  Additionally they have a history of never paying their fines, rather they accumulate them and then protest for a day or two by blocking main roads to show that they are a needed service to this region and, as such, won’t be paying their tickets. 

We were lucky enough to be here for one of these protest times.  Sights to be seen include large numbers of people standing on corners trying to find transportation, large groups of gringos thoroughly confused, combis arguing with other combis in the middle of intersections, transportation fairs that are 10x the standard amount, and various other sights that one might expect to see during a combi protest. 

I make it sound worse than it actually was. 

In reality, we didn’t really know what was going on except for the fact that every combi we saw was empty and people were trying to hail other forms of transportation.  We in turn call upon the U.S. Government to round up 27 gringos stranded in two barrios.  How does Uncle Sam respond, you ask?  With a combi of his own, of course.  Well actually more of a huge van that we crammed 27 people inside of.  So I guess it was exactly like a combi.  Similar to the Post Office, neither rain, nor sleet, nor combi protest will stop Cuerpo de Paz (Peace Corps in Spanish) training. 

Tres de Octubre Pt. 2

Tres de Octubre, celebrates its anniversary every year on the weekend of October 3.  If you think it is a funny coincidence that they just so happen to celebrate their town’s birthday on a day that is strikingly similar to their town name (more like exactly similar), well you are entirely wrong.  Tres de Octubre (Spanish for the 3^rd of October) was name for the day it was founded.

Again, we were invited to partake in the festivities.  9 out of the 10 aspirantes that live in Chacrasana (if you haven’t been following my blog religiously, Chacrasana is the town I live in.  I also recommend you follow my blog religiously) got together, split a beer or two, then hopped on the combi to go towards Tres.  Little did we know, Tres is one of those magical cities where, if you don’t know how to get there you will miss your combi stop, argue a bunch, then wander the streets for an hour and a half until you find it.  Truly magical.

We ended up finding Tres de Octubre and had a splendid time dancing and socializing with the folks until late into the night.  Sadly, no toro loco (see the previous post for the reference). 

Little town festivals are a great place to spend all of your money.  There is great street food to be had and beverages to hydrate yourself with.  Is there a better way to spend your paycheck?  I think not (also, our paychecks are super small.  I live on 10 Soles/day, or the equivalent of $2.20-ish depending on the exchange rate of the day.)

Chosica

There is a regional city near us called Chosica, and it is here that many weekend nights are spent.  Chosica contains a lovely park, numerous restaurants and bars, and several discotecas.  If you walk into any of the discotecas on a Friday or Saturday night, it is a safe bet that you will find a group of gringos dancing like fools.

Training is hard.  We wake up around 6am everyday through various methods.  Some wake up to roosters, some wake up to dogs, others wake up to dog fights in the street.  After leaving the house we cram on combis (referenced in a previous post) and head to the training center.  There we are “talked at” for 8-9 hours.  Never in my life have I seen so many PowerPoint presentations in such a short amount of time.  This happens 5-6 days a week.

After such a hard week, it is only natural that one would want to go somewhere to relax and that place is Chosica.

Peruvian Country Clubs

When you think of a country club, what comes to your mind?  Polos?  Golf courses?  Fancy dinners?  Well in Peru, at least near Chacrasana, these clubs look a little different.  At the bottom of our hill, we have a club called Portada del Sol (Portada del Sol is also what you yell on a combi to express your intent to exit at this stop) and this club features some incredible amenities including, but not limited to a large grass field with holes and cracks everywhere, a river that features a surprisingly small amount of trash, paddle boats, dirty pools, a dirty looking jungle-gym, and several menacing guard dogs.  All this can be yours for the admission price of 5 Soles (about $1.80).

While it may not sound like a great place to be, it is actually a incredibly fun time.  Picnics, swimming, soccer, Frisbee, rock hopping on the river, and basking in the endless sunlight, what more could a Peace Corps aspirante living on a budget want.  While we have only been to Portada del Sol one time we make endless plans about returning to this charming place. 

Peace Corps Elections

In Peru (and possibly other Spanish speaking countries) a committee or governing group is called a junta (pronounced hoonta).  Think along the lines of the P.T.A. (Parent Teacher Association for those who find themselves disconnected with the topic of parent involvement in the education system).  Not surprisingly, each group of Peace Corps aspirantes elects a junta to govern them throughout training, and possibly into the future, however I am unsure if this is entirely true.  Nonetheless, we had an election for our junta.  We elected a president, vice-president, secretary, treasurer, fiscal (a person responsible for making sure all other people are doing their jobs correctly and various things related to discipline, typically the most trustworthy person on the council and above corruption), and a vocal for each of the three programs (water & sanitation, health, and environment).

After a week of heated campaigning (one poster was hung up by one person) the votes were cast, and can you guess which fine young aspirante was elected fiscal?  If you guessed any other person besides me, you are entirely wrong and should be ashamed.  I am the fiscal of the 22nd Peace Corps Peru junta, and although I am not president, I rule with an iron fist. 

MY SITE (where you will find me for the next 2 years)

After much anticipation and speculation the time came to receive our site placements for the next two years.  This is an event that holds significant meaning for an aspirante, for this is the moment that you will finally know where you will be, who you will spend your time with, and whether you brought the right clothes with you.  Despite all the anticipation, I arrived to the training center on this day and forgot that all of this was happening.  Meanwhile my friends sat around anxiously chatting, speculating, and hoping about placements.

Between two trees were strung ~52 balloons.  The significance of these balloons was explained to us during a brief assembly describing the course of the next hour.  Each balloon contained the site information for an aspirante.  The balloons were popped with a “magic wand” (really a broken piece of ¼” PCV pipe painted black with a small orange balloon attached to it.  When your balloon was popped you received your assignment and the wand, then you popped the next balloon and handed off the wand. 

To make a long story short, my site is the town of Pomacochas in the Amazonas region of Peru.  I know very little about this site except that I have a site mate from the health program, there is a big lake, I am about ~30minutes from monkeys, and my host dad says there is a lot of fish in the lake.  Oh yeah, my site is on a lake.  Also it rains a lot.  According to numerous sources on the internet, the temperature ranges from 8-20 C, which I estimate to be 40-70 F, although I haven’t actually converted it.  If you have free time and are interested in my next home I would greatly appreciate your research skills/internet access as my access to the World Wide Web is extremely limited.

Pictures Section (only 2, the internet is slow today)

We rode around in that little van for like 6 hours that day on bumpy dirt roads.  Super dry desert.  In the two years that the volunteer we shadowed lived there it never rained.

This is our valley from the top of our mountain.  This picture features 10-15 neighborhoods between Chacrasana and Chosica.  Super pretty during the night time.

Next time on Oh Hey, Peru (hopefully posted soon, but based on my track record it will probably be a while)

• Field Based Training
• Hat shopping in Lima
• Probably more pictures
• My typical day