Lima & Catfights

Well, let´s see here, the first post in Peru was 9 days in, and now I´m wrapping up week 4..

To be honest, not sure how to even begin summarizing the experiences and situations that have gone down in the past few weeks.  I guess I should first begin by saying that I apologize for not being able to update more frequently, but I hope you can all realize that I have other things to occupy my time other than sitting in front of a computer at the moment.

FOR EXAMPLE:

(aside from trying to figure out how to use this GD keyboard which turns the general ":" into an "Ñ" - among many others....)

My training has gone fairly well up until this point.  We are currently two weeks away from finding out where we will be living for the next two years, which is exciting WHEN I have the time to think of such things.  Tomorrow we have our second round of spanish "entrevistas", which have been a rainy zoloft commercial cloud above my head this whole week up until today when I actually had a one-on-one chat with my teacher.  After this upcoming week, we (the MAC - environment group, if you will) will be spending the next few weeks visiting Casa de San Pedro (approx: 15,000 ft above sea level), doing our Field Based Training ... somewhere in Peru; and also doing a site visit in a place obviously unknown to us at this point.  Thankfully, working for various non-profits have made me accustomed to feeling comfortable with absolute uncertainty. 

So, how about I share a story about when we visited a BEAUTIFUL area in the city of Lima called Miraflores.  The day was planned as a spanish class integration (to put it in my words) trip into other parts of Peru.  There were ... a lot of us there that day, and the point was to speak/interview people from Miraflores about things related to our program in Spanish.  The ... uh... interesting? thing about this is that by being a PCT in the environment program is that a lot (all??) of our questions seem to revolve around the simple question "what´s the deal with you burning your trash??  So, that being said, the novice spanish classes (myself obviously included) were let loose in the most upscale part of Peru known to me at the moment:

(snapshot of the afternoon)

"¿Uhhh... Hola, senor, tienes el tiempo para contestar mis preguntas?  Yo soy un voluntario del cuerpo de paz..... (yada yada yada)..."

(In English)

"Hey, do you have the time to answer a few questions of mine?  Great!  Thanks!"
"So what´s the deal with your trash out here, do you BURN IT or feed it to the animals??????"

(local): "¿Que?  (translation: wtf did this Gringo just ask me, I´m just trying to enjoy this park bench on a nice afternoon)

(me): "So your trash, do you like to burn it out here, or do you actually recycle this stuff??"

And so forth and so on.  Yup, I guess cultural integration out here begins with a friendly/awkward?? exchange of words about one´s garbage.  The good news to report is that in the wealty part of Lima, apparently they have a pretty respectable recycling program.  The other news to report is that I will forever know the smell of burning trash from where I live.  (I did say in my interview that I wanted to expand my global perspective and understanding, right...)

So, once the Oscar the Grouch session was over, we (and I need to be VERY SPECIFIC in the way I describe "we": 9 damn gringos who are ALL in the MOST BASIC Spanish classes in the program) were given directions IN $%&"·$% SPANISH about how to get home.  Oh, and BTW, Lima is about an hour and a half away from Santa Eulalia (or "absolutely everything we know about Peru at that point" as I like to call it).  So, after given copious amounts of Spanish directions and questions like "bien?" "¿entiendes" (I feel the need to also mention that at the VERY same time we were being given directions IN SPANISH, a bunch of Miraflores(ian) punk kid skaters were trying to jump down about 10-15 stairs on their skateboards, causing me to be inable to follow anything else than "is this kid going to loose all of his teeth??... OMG... here he goes).  (they were pretty impressive, in the end, FTR).  So, after being exhausted from talking trash (in the non-smack sort of way) with local Peruvians, 9 of us were left to find our way back home.  Welcome to GD Peru.

So, half of us thought the other half knew what our teachers were saying... NOPE.  In the interest of keeping your attention still, let me just say that after being given the Gringo treatment from the local taxi (colectivo) drivers.. (i.e. "Oh, these gringo´s don´t speak Spanish at all, how about 2084u203948203984230948203948 Soles per person to get home), we tried to take the public transit. 

Three and a half hours, one near fatal crash, one person pulled from their car in an attempt for street justice, we arrived in Chosica.  I had the pleasure of staning for a solid hour and a half/two hours while wating for everyone to get a seat. 

Once we arrived to Chosica (the Naperville to our Santa Eulalian Bolingbrook, if you will), we were again fortunate enough to not get anyone to stop and pick us up.  Swell, so we payed 8 soles for 2 people (approx 4x the usual price) to get home.  The best part about this whole experience was that when I got home (and my family of 9 assumed I was probably off getting drunk somewhere - a commonly held notion about gringos - was that I couldn´t really explain anything further than "choqua", punching one hand into the other, and then throwing my hands upwards and sleeping for the night).

Aside from that bit of cultural integration, things have been rather peaceful.  Last week we had our first Friday afternoon off, which was nice to spend by the pool and relax a little.  However, on Tuesday of this week, I learned just how much noise a cat (rather, two cats) and a tin roof can really make.  It is truly astounding. 

So here I was, peacefully sleeping with the sound of the nearby river aiding in my rest, when all of  a sudden a stampede of elephant-like cats began no more than 4 feet above my head.  I´ve become a bit accustomed to being awoken by animals in the early hours of the night/morning, but I truly hope to never hear those sounds again in my entire life.  From my understanding, the cat that "lives" here, Misha, was either being challenged to a fight to the death, or was being ... aggressevily pursued by a male gato con interest.  So it was, 4:30 in the morning when all the excitement happen.  (Oh, and while I am able, I feel I should educate you all that cats can make about 7,000 additional sounds than we know). 

Ok, so it´s super late in the morning and I´m exhausted from a full week´s worth of whatever we learn in training, when this cacophonous eruption starts directly above me.  In the blur of my understanding of events at that hour, I sit there for a while and think "are the kids going to be horrified at the dead pet of theirs, or will there be more ´joys´brought into this world in a few weeks.  After I listen for a while longer and can no longer lay there as a spectator (frightened/curious gringo awoken in a panic of unusual and unknown sounds), I decide to leave my room and investigate. 

"Do I need to find a chair and save the beloved?? family gato, or am I going to be interupting a part of nature that doesn´t generally exist from where I come from.  Please take note that this is all going on after being awoken from deep slumber, so my thoughts are not the most well-formed.

Sooo...when I get out of my room, my grandma Doris is out there throwing pitchers of water on the roof.  My first thought was, "where the hell did she get that?? the water is shut off at 7pm each night!!"  Once that thought was shook from my head, I tried to ascertain what was going on, while conversing in a language other than my own at the break of dawn.  I didn´t quite know the word for fight at that point, though I did know the word for fornicate.  I decided it was better not to be standing in our portico at 4:30 in the morning asking my grandmother something regarding "sexo".  In her usual nature, she said something incomprehensible and with much speed, laughed, then went on her way.  I was so confused and curious and worried for the cat who I thought had been brutally murdered until the next day when I got home and found her in good repair. 

Turns out, Misha is apparently a badass and who/whatever she encountered that night is probably wishing it had taken a different path across the tin-roofs. 

I surely have lots more to share, but must get to studying for my Spanish interview tomorrow.  Miss and love you all!!

(PS my e-mail is bobbyguise@gmail.com, write me sometime people)

Love,

Bobby