Nine Steps to The Making of a 40 Person Thanksgiving

Almost 400 years ago, a group of Pilgrims followed their religious beliefs to the new world. They didn't know what they'd eat, who'd they meet, or where they'd end up.

Nearly 400 hundred years later, I filled out a Peace Corps Application. I didn't know what I'd eat, who I'd meet, or where I'd go.

Within a few years, and after helping the Pocanocan (sp?) tribe sucessfully massacre one of their enemy tribes (I've been watching History Channel's America the Story of US recently), the Pilgrims sat down to a feast with their Pocanocan allies.

After a few months of English teaching, map paitning, community diagnosing, we PCVs too would share a beautiful thanksgiving with our local friends. Fortunately, the only massacre would come in Kelsey Ward's performance in our 5K Turkey Trot (see results below).

The idea for our Thanksgiving, as I imagine the idea for the first Thanksgiving, came after a series of casual conversations. After explaining the idea of Thanksgiving to my Jangas friends, we decided this was definitely something we could and should do. As much as I complain about Perú's potatoes, their abundance and low price certainly helped come Thanksgiving. Quickly the event picked up speed.

I'm not sure if the Native Americans ran into the same problem, but fuck it's easy to invite people! After extending more invitations than I had money, I realized that with Peace Corps Volunteers and community members, we were looking at a dinner for around 50 people. Woops.

Quickly Beth Methink and I (both with strong Wisconsin routes) started planning the food:

For those planning a Thanksgiving dinner for 50 people I recommend the following items:

-18 Kilos of Sierra Potatoes
-12 Kilos of Apples
-12 Kilos of Sweet Potatoes
-A few kilos of Broccoli, Green Beans, Onions, Carrots, Celery
-2 8 Kilo Turkeys
-An Adobe Oven the size of a small church
-Lots of community friends including host-brother Marco, and host cousin Cabo
-16 Peace Corps Volunteers, including Ian Arzeni, Elke and Christopher Huey
-Paciencia y Flexibilidad

This planning was all fine and good, but just like the first American Pilgrims, just crossing the ocean wasn't enough—we wanted a real challenge.

Why not have the community Thanksgiving Feast on the same day we plan a 5K? In a casual conversation (I need to start paying more attention to these) Beth mentioned that she ran a 5 K every Thanksgiving. This conversation quickly turned into about a month of race planning. Solicitudes were written to petition police to secure the route, the health post was asked to accompany with an ambulance, prizes were requisitioned, clean water and bananas were purchased, tv advertisements were made, t-shirts were printed, English classes were invited, decisions were made, arguments were had, and chalk for arrows were laid. All this for the 5K? (calculated it was actually only 2.8 miles)--the First Annual GRAN MARATÓN DE JANGAS at about 10,000 Feet above Sea Level.
So after a month of planning, there we stood on Saturday Nov. 27, 15 Peace Corps Volunteers, 8 “host country partners” (to use PC jargon), ready to start The GRAN Maratón de Jangas. At 9:30 (about half an hour past the race's scheduled start—right on time in Perú), the Ambulance beeped its horn, and after I reminded people that the beep was actually the race's starting gun, we were off.

Not affected by the altitude, Kelsey Ward a La Libertad volunteer who lives at sea level won the female category. A guy from Yungar, the town over smoked all the guys from Jangas and the States. Three continents were represented—our NGO friend Dominic from Germany also ran. In other categories about ten or fifteen kids ages 6-14 also competed in the race. We then awarded the prizes —which included Cristal Beer shirts donated by the local Catholic church.

After the race's excitement, we quickly turned our attention to cooking. If the Peace Corps teaches you one thing, it's that by taking advantage of your local resources anything is possible. Having no real cooking skills, and after making my applesauce the night before, I served as the decider. My job was to help people solve their problems—which involved mostly telling people that we didn't have the necessary cooking utensil, and then letting them come up with a creative way around it.

Throughout the day I was asked questions about whether we had a whisk (we didn't, but could forks work?), could we put the turkey in before 2 o'clock (we couldn't, but we can eat later), does our town have apple juice (no, but why not borrow a neighbor's juicer to squeeze two kilos of apples?), did we have a pie crust (nope, but how about a frying pan with metal handles?), a rolling pin (why not a nalgene water bottle?) etc and etc. Without a pumpkin pie can mix, PCV Claire had her mom send her the recipe for pumpkin pie made with real pumpkins. Claire diligently copied down all 9 steps, including the ninth—ENJOY. Those pies were damn good.

At about 9 p.m., after delivering a very corny speech about the first Thanksgiving to explain to all our Peruvian friends why we had spent the day preparing sweet potatoes, garlic mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, applesauce, fresh broccoli, fresh vegetables served with a pineapple reduction (I told you anything was possible—thanks Ian), apple pies, pumpkin pies, and banana pudding—we all (about 40 people in all) sat down to enjoy the feast.

After enjoying the food we moved onto a tradition we just couldn't share—the great American tradition of dancing in a goofy circle instead of what to us is awkward Peruvian one-on-one dancing. For the rest of the night 15 of my good Peruvian friends watched us make asses out of ourselves dancing the shopping cart, the sprinkler, and anything else that was popular in the late 90s. Maybe next year.

At midnight we passed out, tired from running and dancing, and full.

As the shirts we made say (and the Pilgrims who first arrived some 400 years ago in America would have made), “Fuck Me, Nothing's Easy.” But sometimes it's not about where you're going, it's about enjoying what you're eating, where you are, and most importantly who you're with.

T*I*P

Dear Poor Blog Followers,

This week is the final week to finish up my community Diagnostic, which means I have procrastinated majorly, and have written a blog entry to the tune of K'Naan's T.I.A (This is Africa). Naturally it's called, T.I.P, (This is Perú). I promise, it is probably my last music venture for the two years. The rhymes don't all match, but if you know the song (and I highly suggest it, and HIGHLY SUGGEST you listen to TIA at the same time as reading this blog entry), it will make a moderate amount of sense.

Happy Early Thanksgiving to everyone, I love you all and hope you enjoy, will try to get a foodie-blog up for the big day.


T.I.P. By John William Meyer, Original Lyrics by K'Naan

I hope you got your passports, and cipro pills

I take families (and friends) on a visit anyday

They never eaten real guinea pig anyway

I know way all the volunteers and cheers say

Welcome to the moderate-sized town we call Jangas

Well students is paying attention likes it's Tuesday

Ah Youth from the Hood huh who say?

My segundo students will tell you how to algebra

My cuarto students are quick to grab the paint brush

Around here we make the middle-aged women blush

Colegio to Health Post in a Rush

So we don't really give a fuck about your excuses

This is Perú Hurray

TIP, Hurray, TIP, Hurray, TIP, Hurray

It means This is Perú, Hurray

You don't know how rainy it is here

The streets is cement in these parts here

You don't how crammed it is in here

There's twenty-two people in this combí here

You don't know how uncomfortable it can get here

I live with a random family in these parts here

You don't how dirty I am here

The town hasn't had water in a month here

Let's Go.

I walk with nurses up to Jahua ANYDAY

I've got nothing else to do ANYWAY

I know all the donkey trails here

Welcome to the continent of corruption

Where Fujimori used budgets as bank accounts

Where Peace Corps leaves quickly if a Chavez-ista gets won

No Internet
But many Volley Nets

With the cats and guinea pigs running all around the rooms these days

I deliver what they need like sex-ed lectures

I learned from the deadly streets of Middlebury, no regrets

And I wasn't ever looking for extra cred

But those streets bred me to volunteer

It's no secret we know how to speak Spanish

But Peace Corps sent me to a Quechua site

Used to be advanced, now I'm a beginner

And I read a lot cause I'm bored

When I walk through the streets like Shaquille O'neil

little children say ¡Hola Jhon!

The Jangas game just got itself a new gringo

This is Perú, Hurray

TIP, Hurray, TIP, Hurray, TIP, Hurray

It Means This is Perú

You don't know how rainy it is here

The streets is muddy in these parts here

You don't how confusing it gets here

I don't speak both languages in these parts here

You don't know how loud it can get here

There are a lot of religious festivals in these parts here

You don't how fun it is here

My incredibly vague job is to work with youth in these parts here

Ha, it's Profe Jhon. This is Perú. Ka-ka-ka-boom

¡Read it From the Bottom Up!

First off have you read the list yet? If not, look at the title again! Ok, enough me being a tool, in all honesty, this list are some of the funnier aspects of my life. I really do love it here, lots of great friends, and the culture is absolutely beautiful, with amazing landscapes, beautiful languages, wonderful weavings and dress, and fun kids. The Map is almost complete, and I have had more support with that than I can thank, it looks great, and I'll post a picture when it's done (the one above is of a much earlier phase, but I loved the picture). Working on the Community Diagnostic, we're going to have a 5K for Thanksgiving, REAL family visiting in December (YAY) and in January we'll really hit the ground on some cool projects. In the meantime, I hope everyone is doing well, and for those of you who are looking for a more “Foodie” entry, to celebrate Thanksgiving I will do a review of Peruvian Cuisine: It will include my thoughts and experiences on and with Ceviche, Potatoes, Rice, Potatoes, Soup, Potatoes, Guinea Pig (does it really taste like chicken?—but it looks so much like a rat?), Cat, Corn, Pasta, Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes, Inka Cola, and Potatoes.

1a. Oh come on? You really think I'm going to end that cheesily?
Soups from Celebrations at the Colegio (School)—It will have you in the bathroom before you can say, “No Gracias.”

1. The wonderful kids. They're definitely the reason I'm in Peace Corps.

2. Punto Azul Ceviche in Lima. I swear to God, Jesus himself squeezes the Lime.

3. Host Family Arguments or Discussions in Quechua at 6 a.m.--It saves you from using an alarm clock, and occasionally can be pulled in to make your dreams weirder, as we don't have Malaria Medications to do that here.

4. “Jerga” (Slang) from My Host Brothers—My Quechua classes may not start until January, but I definitely have a leg up on most Volunteers in terms of dirty slang words.... Unfortunately most of them are not fit for publication (Sorry friends, send me an e-mail with a request, but Moms, and Harvard Professionals—although I was the one to introduce you to I'm on a Boat to you Aunt Dorreen--read this blog!).

5. Being approached by Drunks for on the spot English Lessons-- “My name is” I'm not sure at this point you could pronounce that correctly in Spanish buddy.

6. Hearing Gringo, Quechua, and then seeing Middle Aged Women giggle in my direction. Hola Chicas :).

7. My 83 Year Old Neighbor (and this one's serious) who told me she wants to see my World Map completed before she died! Technically, we are government workers, so what do you expect? I'll do the best I can Señora!

8. Writing “Solicitudes.” A Solicitud is a type of formal Peruvian Document which you need to write when you ask for a service or materials or an event space. For instance, we have to write a solicitud for help from the Police in our Thanksgiving 5 K. In the document you promise your event will not only benefit EVERY SINGLE person to the community, but there's an off-hand chance that it might cure cancer.

9. Sheep on a Roof. Where else is your sheep going to get its tan?

10. Wait China and Japan are two different countries?—This one is for you Ben Cotton—Here they call people that appear to have ancestry from China, Chinos—it's really not meant to be offensive, and by the end of my home-stay in Lima I started to do it with our amiga Carla (I know Ben, I'm sorry). Alberto Fujimori, the old thief of a President—w/ a clearly sounding Japanese name, here is to this day known as “El Chino.” I'm hoping the map helps to clear some of this issue up.

(Start Here) To all Loyal Followers: To celebrate my new charger, thank you fellow PCV Colleen Brunell, I am going to write a Top Ten List of Why I love Peru, and specifically why I love Jangas, Ancash (which is better). Some will be serious, others, will not.

2 Continents, 2 Weeks, 1 Marriage Proposal, 1 World Map, 1 Pair of Shoes and 1 Haircut

The author of this blog would like to congratulate a certain Katherine Meyer and soon to be Duffy Meyer (hehe). Personally I feel responsible for bringing the two together—10 years ago, when a guy called named Duffy looking for my sister, I relayed the message, and from that day forward, this writer was in love. The author of this blog learned about such wonderful news October 11th, and even though no one here besides me actually knows Katherine and Duffy, we celebrated the shit out of the news, and the way things go here (there seem to be a lot more holidays here) maybe it'll be Katherine and Duffy day each 10/10—I'll talk to the Mayor.

With such joyous news, we move onto the blog I started a week ago, the very day Duffy proposed to Katherine. While Duffy was preparing to ask the biggest question of his life, I was looking for a haircut. And although I am not a small business volunteer, today's entry will have to do with business. Besides, I was an Economics Major (just like my dad!--that worked out for you huh dad? jeje). But first a note on being an Economics major in Perú.

In a normal conversation here—the first question asked is: where are you from? Unfortunately my tan fools no one—although I have been confused 2-3 times for a 19 year old German that works here as well. The second or third question oftentimes following what religion are you? (I go with más o menos católico pero no practico mucho jaja) is what did you study?

I explain to people that I studied “economia” and “historia.” No one ever remembers that I studied history (this always irks me because I did after all have to write two theses for history—one on Pope Innocent III for christ's sake), but anyways—people always remark happily afterward that “entonces, ¿eres economista?” (So then, you're an economist!). Initially I tried to explain to people that 10 classes at a liberal arts school hardly makes me an economist, but eventually I've just started to accept the title, yeah, fuck yeah I'm an economista!

My fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Kyle, who lives 10 minutes away is a Psychology major. Unfortunately Kyle doesn't have a blog, but fortunately I do—so this story will get published. Anyway, Kyle had been experiencing the same issue as I—just instead of thinking he was an economist after studying a few classes at Grinnell College—people assumed Kyle is a straight up psychologist. As the son of not one but two psychologists, I know Kyle lacks a few years (or ten) of training. This is fine and all, let people think what they think--until the day where a woman arrived from Huaraz (a half hour trip) searching for Kyle's psychological expertise to help her through a rough emotional stretch. 22 year old Kyle, lacking a couch or any therapy skills whatsoever called our PCVL (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader) and asked what the hell he should do. Sophie and Kyle worked out a way to diffuse the situation, and with a few suggestions, the women and her sisters who had come to support her returned to Huaraz, un-counseled, and probably very confused about their referral. Mom maybe I can send her to the Creamery?

So, now I'm just waiting for any day soon for President Alan García to show up looking for advice on whether Perú should maintain a floating exchange rate or peg the nuevo sol to the dollar.

Anyway—back to where this blog began—a Business Entry (though after a re-write I realize that it actually began w/ a Congratulations to my sister and my new official brother Duffy). Matthew recently asked in a phone conversation (these are great gifts to me, I highly recommend them-43-944-426-755) if I actually read my blog entries before publishing them, as they seem disjointed. I in fact do read over the entries, but as I write them, I always like them, and for the first year out of 22 no one (outside of Matthew hehe) is grading these entries—so I say enjoy the Freudian trip through my mind.

Back to business—today, as part of my community assessment, I am going to do an analysis of a local business. Jeshu runs a local business, that I would like to bet you can't find in the EE.UU. Jeshu both cuts hair, and fixes shoes. And as I have hair that is bordering on me entering the side door at Duffy's apartment (hippy), and my New Balance shoes are off balance, I will be paying Jeshu a visit today. Sneakers are not easy to come by around these parts—my South American size of 46.5 is not sold in Huaraz my regional capital—so off to Jeshu I go—it's better for the environment anyway. Wish me luck, I'm writing this live—I promise to post a picture soon—if anything it can't be worse than the cut I got in Spain by Paco, whose last client was Francisco Franco. Jeshu, just like Pop Pop was an army man. Off I go, I think I'm going to buy a hat afterward, just in case.

Well, apparently Jeshu doesn't work Sundays—I think he's off to the corrida de toros where I'll be soon.

OK, now it's the following Saturday, my shoes are at Jeshu's waiting to be fixed, and I'm still a dirty hippy. We've started drawing the World Map—this is NO easy project, right now we've almost put the grid up (that'll get done today). After working for an hour and a half, my friends here decided we should take a 3 hour break—I'm an easy boss (and what am I really gonna say to three guys that are volunteering their time to help me out?), so we're going to meet at 2.

OK, finally this journey through time, space, relationships will end now. In the time I have taken to write this blog entry, an engagement has occurred, a wedding date and place have been set, our World Map is completely drawn, falta Europa, the lab results say no parasites (SCORE!), and the rainy season has started with vengeance (luckily it only lasts until April). Por fin, tonight was the big night. We had worked on the world map, and I was hanging with what is becoming my regular crew—Marco my host brother, Cabo my host cousin (through the host family I'm related to half the town, including the mayor who just lost the re-elect, whose family voted against him hehe), Lux (I have no idea how this is spelt), and his brother Yosh. A solid group of good guys who have helped me out through every stage of the World Map (plaster, ocean blue, grid, drawing, now onto painting, labeling, and finishing).

After deciding the Europeans could wait another day for a completed section of our world map, we were hanging outside of a store, when I asked Marco if Jeshu was perhaps open for business. He said yup and that we should all go check it out.

The big day had finally come, and as an army of five we went to Jeshu's for the big cut. I have to say, Jeshu did one hell of a job with my lego-man hair—it really does look like it could pop off now. I'm definitely satisfied, Jeshu was a fine barber—and after the cut, Jeshu returned my shoes, glued up and fixed. The price? Haircut: 4 Soles, Shoe-Repair: 2 Soles (exchange rate 2.85 S./$1), Time Spent working on this blog entry: Two weeks. I challenged anyone to find a better price, and suggest to all friends planning a visit to wait till you get here to get your cut, you won't regret it.

Next Week: The story of how Kyle and I spent 2 soles to go to thermal springs, which ended up being an awkward 25 minutes together in a más o menos dirty bath up.

I Love You all Very Much! Congratulations to Katherine and Duffy—and if you're a non-family/close friend reading this blog, you have no idea what the hell this is all about. Enjoy!

Dance Till You Fall

I am going to tell you the story about the Town Fiesta in Jangas. Like any good story, it begins with me helping haul two 10 meter wooden poles. I had volunteered to help my host-brothers prepare for the fiesta. Naturally any good fiesta needs two gigantic poles. My job was to first carry the poles and then to hold the ropes attached to the pole while we positioned the two poles in the Plaza after digging two massive holes to place the poles. After a while my tiredness of a Saturday morning wore off and I asked what the hell the poles were for. I was told they were for fire-works. While I tried to apply my foreigner mind to why the hell we needed gigantic poles to launch fire-works, I came up with some explanation about fire-works being shot off straight that suited me well enough so I stopped wondering and went to play soccer after the morning's “chamba” (work).

The following day (Sunday) we had a meeting with the regular group and a few people I hadn't met. Mostly my host brothers, cousins, and their friends who are all a lot of fun. The conversation focused on food, when we were going to buy the food, when we were going to peal/kill the food and when we were going to serve and eat the food. I was in. The plan was to make bread at 6 a.m Wednesday—this didn't happen-I'm getting used to this (fortunately for I would be needing my sleep for later in the week). Throughout the week the group worked and planned—it was also the anniversario of the colegio this past week and I got to see a lot of my students play sports, make “atorches” (big objects that are lit up at night with transparent paper—my favorite was the bear and the dragon—sometimes you get the Bear).

Thursday was the big day of work for the fiesta. After a day at the colegio of an un-durably long ceremony (I at least got to give a few of the sports prizes) I went to help peal potatoes, peal more potatoes, and then helped the Priest haul more pieces of firewood than potatoes I had pealed. We then went to our respective houses to prepare for the Fiesta...

Here I've learned that regardless of the expectations you set for an event, the event itself will be nowhere near what you are expecting. This can happen in a Math Class, a soccer game, a dinner (for example I recently ate Guinea-pig—surprised me in that it mostly tastes like chicken—only slightly odd when you grab it's paw like a chicken wing...hehe). I don't know what I was expecting for this party, but my expectations were smashed.

I am going to start by saying that if you have never been to the Jangas town Fiesta, you have not been to a Fiesta. I always loved Middlebury parties—but I never attended anything at LoFo (Lower Forest for non-Middlebury readers) that had 2 competing 20+ member brass bands, an “orquesta” with various singers on a stage, several Catholic Masses, a procession with the Virgin of Las Mercedes (yes she actually did inspire Mercedes-Benz—I learned this at one of the masses), a two course lunch prepared, fireworks and bulls.

At 11 p.m on Thursday the band with singers started to play, and people started to dance. After shaking off my shyness I started to dance. Forgive me for my cultural insensitivity, but I still can't tell the difference between huayno and cumbia, but I'm working on it. Mostly I just smile and bend my knees and try to duck low enough when I get twisted—I think I'm actually getting the hang of it.

The main event came at 1 a.m. Finally I learned what the damn poles were for. Throughout the night, what appeared to be a scaffolding like structure kept getting built higher and higher. At one, they lit it from the bottom up. The thing was like a Rule-Goldberg (did I get this name right?) machine. One level would light another and would spin, and then shoot off sparks, and light another. It was probably the coolest display of fireworks I've ever seen (until the next night's—all in all there were 4 Castillos! Over three nights, not to mention more Roman Candles lit by cigarettes than I've seen in my life).

For the next two nights the fiesta continued, and went onto include a corrida de toros (one of the toros may or may not have escaped—I didn't attend perhaps fortunately) and lots more. I guess the lesson of this story is, the next time a group of guys ask you to haul two pieces of wood to your town plaza, go for it—you never know, it just might far exceed your expectations. Dance till you fall.

A Meeting as I Understood It

When you wake up in Jangas—you really have no idea what you're going to do that day. Wednesdays are health post days—days I accompany a member of the health post to a “caserio” or smaller outlying town outside of Jangas.

I was ready to wake up for my 8:30 appointment w/ the health post. My host mom confirmed through the window that don Zeñon my socio-comunitario had come to say that we had a meeting at 8:30—in my unconscious state of sleeping I somewhere found the Spanish (thank god she doesn't just speak Quechua) to say that I knew and would be there. After my breakfast of REAL oatmeal and bananas (here they like to drink things instead of eat them—drinkable Quaker oatmeal? Drinkable yogurt? What the fuck?)--I headed down for the health post (2 minutes from my house--as is mostly everything).

In one of the communications wires got crossed, and we started at 9:30 instead—specific timing here is not a big deal. The way I figure it is in the States we work events around time, and here they work time around events—just a different way of looking at things—which as culturally sensitive as I try to be, still can get annoying at times, but often ends in me laughing at myself and the situation (in training I was told once by my host family that we were going to visit their family a couple towns over at 8:00 for breakfast—I rose early on Sunday for the occasion, was ready to go, and if I recall we left at about noon and ended up having lunch instead. On a second occasion we decided to have a party based around the final world cup game—by the time we got back from buying supplies for the party, the game was in its 70th minute)--once again, time based around events.

Back to today—I arrived at the healthpost at 9:30, when quickly my friend Raúl who's a nurse there invited me to a “reunión” at 4:40 later that day in Jahua (we ended up leaving at 5:10, haha), and don Zeñon my “sociocomunitario” counterpart and I headed out to Lluncu a closeby smaller town. In Peace Corps you don't have to know what you're doing before you sign up for it—a meeting w/ Raúl on an unknown subject? Hell yeah I'll be there. Head out into Lluncu w/ don Zeñon? What time?

The health post has a program where they are working to better people's houses with cleaner methods of cooking and better organization. Today we were going to help people put together what I understood as storage containers for plates and utensils—sometimes things don't have to make sense—it's something to do. We went to three different houses—at one the woman was working on another project—next week she said, at the other, the woman didn't have the adobe (good insulating bricks made of mud and straw) sufficient for the project, and at the third house the woman wasn't there. As we walked and talked on the way down, don Zeñon put it simply: “no hemos hecho nada” we haven't done anything—but that's how it goes sometimes. On the way down don Zeñon talked to me about some of the problems here in Jangas—a lot have to do with “ancianos” (old people) health problems. There is also problems of illiteracy w/ the older generation and children denutrition (though this has improved) and kids getting parasites from bad water (and bad water practices). Finally he mentioned pregnancies—how many women in the campo still don't want to come to hospitals or follow modern medicine practices throughout their pregnancies. This comes up later.

After coming down I ate lunch w/ my host mom (potatoes, cabbage, flour soup, and avacado sandwiches), and washed clothes for 2 hours—I still suck at this, my friend Beth that lives nearby says she does it when her host mom is away so that her host mom doesn't end up taking over after she's done it incorrectly. I mostly get poked fun at, but as we speak (I type) my socks and shirts are drying—probably not as white as they could have been, and my sweatshirt probably is a little soapier than it should be due to my laziness, but what're ya gonna do. Me washing clothes by hands alone is enough to prove Adam Smith's theory about specialization of labor—too dorky?

I then ate my “lonché” snack w/ my host brother—white bread from Panaderia Omar, tea, and drinkable yogurt (fuck).

Finally I headed down to the health post for the meeting w/ Raúl. The meeting was going to take place in the “centro poblado” of Jahua. I really had no idea what the meeting was about. We headed up in a taxi w/ the health post's doctor Cynthia. First we broke a 100 soles bill at the gas station to pay—change can be a real bitch here—the guy broke it w/ a 50 and 10 5 sol coins—change purses are a necessity here.

We finally arrived and met up w/ a few people near the puesto de salud they have in Jahua. Raúl talked to them for a couple of minutes in a mix of Spanish and Quechua—I picked up a bit of it, but the gist was that the mayor wasn't around and we should post-pone the meeting. We decided to move it to Saturday at 5. Then we headed out of Jahua, and that was almost that.

I asked what the meeting was about on the way down and Raúl told me it was about an issue they've been having w/ “gestantes” pregnant woman—that don't follow up w/ their medications—recently there was one woman that took only 2 days of a 5 day prescription for an infection she had—which can lead to serious issues. They had had other problems with gestantes recently too, and they had decided it was time to have a meeting w/ authorities to put some weight behind their medical orders.

On the way down we ran into the mayor walking up, which changed our plans. We reversed and headed back to hold the meeting—better to get it over with when we actually had the politician during election season than to try to post-pone it.

Before continuing I must add an important phrase about the upcoming bit: “As I understood it” part of this title, is an important phrase when you're living in a totally different culture, where not only do they not speak your native language, but they only speak the foreign language you know half the time—the other half is Quechua.

We headed to the municipality and jammed a bunch of chairs into the mayor's office. At the meeting there was a gestante with her (I believe) husband a few of her kids. Raúl opened the meeting up (standing when he spoke) with the issue at hand. Dr. Cynthia then talked about how the medical post physicians and nurses are held responsible if something preventable were to happen to the pregnant woman—that in other cases, for similar issues, doctors and nurses can be fired from health posts for the patient's negligence. To protect the women's well being, and to avoid this scenario, it was necessary to come to an agreement about the pregnant woman's health issue—that she must take responsibility for taking the necessary medicines and for coming to the necessary checkups (which many women have not been completing). In cases where someone is acting in negligence to another's health the health post as a state-run organization can make a “denuncia” and bring in serious authorities.

With all this being said, and the mayor and health promoters of the town making the case for the necessity of modern medicine practices (mostly done in Quechua to the pregnant woman)--we came to an agreement about the situation—that the mayor and other authorities would talk to the other pregnant women, and that it was necessary for the pregnant women to take responsibility, and that they had been properly warned by the members of the health post. Raúl said he would return to finish this woman's medicine to fend off the infection over the next few days.

As is custom, this agreement was written up, everyone (except the husband) that was at the meeting including myself signed the document, and we photocopied it.

Mid-way through the meeting, someone asked what the hell I was doing (they asked in Quechua so I assume this is what they asked) and Raúl explained that I was with Cuerpo de Paz and spoke Spanish, was learning Quechua and was in Jangas to support education and health programs. What followed were lots of words and phrases in Quechua and lots of laughs (I really have to start learning Quechua—I notice it's usually the language the jokes are made in—maybe this is cause the jokes are usually made about me, but hey—comic relief certainly didn't hurt at a meeting like this one).

We headed back in taxi, stopped for sheep in the middle of the road on the way down, and that was that. I came home, ate spaghetti, popcorn and potatoes (my diet has drastically changed since Middlebury's cafeteria), and now it's about time for the “The Pacific” w/ my host-cousin Chara—thank god for subtitles.

Matthew, my REAL brother (I get a little sick of host this and host that every once and a while)--told me before I came that I'd come back wanting to be a doctor—this is still not the case (2 years of Post-bac and 4 years of med-school? yuck), but I'm definitely becoming more and more interested in health promotion.

Much Love from Ancash.

Johncito (what most people call me here—little John, despite me being the tallest person I've seen in the past month :).

PS: Aunt Doreen—all the foodie references are for you! Come visit and I'll take you to really good Ceviche and then when we get to Ancash LOTS of potatoes.

PhotoCredit—This is a Brown Swooooosh cow here in Jangas, Ancash—he says hello to his friends in Shelburne, Vermont.

Just one of those Moments

Sometimes an experience comes and goes that you just have to share in a blog entry. Today, such an experience happened.

In the first three months of service at site, we are responsible for writing a “Community Diagnostic.” The idea, as I may have described earlier, is that we get to know our communities before we start setting up programs, so our programs are more targeted to specific community needs—a worthy ideal. , As part of the way to get to know the community, I have decided to volunteer at the colegio in a few English and Math classes—to better get to know the students, the teachers, and through them, the community at large.

The day was going normal, right up to a certain point. I had worked on conjugations of “to be” and how to form questions, and translating verbs for the majority of the morning. Then came the “tutoria” session—more or less a mandated time for alternative subjects that a teacher gets to choose—as you can imagine, topics here can and do vary. Señora Elba, the English teacher who I work with had something special planned for today. A Ministry of the Peruvian government has an “Agua Para Todos” (Water for Everyone) Initiative, which partially involves educating school-aged children on hygiene. This policy trickled down (haha) to the level of tutoria--and this is where I get involved.

Before I knew it I was helping evaluate the class of fourteen year olds. This was no ordinary high school test. Instead of bubble sheets, my job was to inspect my high school's classes´ nails, yes you read that right—nails. After I self-consciously checked my own nails to make sure I wasn't being hypocrytical in this examination, I started to check my students nails to see if they were “limpio” and “corto” (clean and short). I had three options—no, “en proceso,” and task completed! Needless to say, I couldn't help but laugh at myself as I inspected thirty or so pairs of high-school aged nails. There are three follow up examinations—so if we all pull together, hopefully we can get a few more “logrados” by then.

After this, I asked (via honor system) if they were all washing their hands before eating, and after going to the bathroom. Mostly everyone affirmed they were, but in the end, I reminded everyone that it doesn't matter what the response was—it matters what they're really doing.

As someone whose stomach has gotten to know a significant number of Peruvian parasites on a personal level (not due to inadequate handwashing--remember the tippy tappy) and spent his fair share on Peruvian toilets in three different provinces—anyway you can protect yourself is seriously important. In the future, I hope to work on projects that involve such basic health issues that can significantly improve people's lives inside and in the adjacent and more rural communities surrounding Jangas.

After I finished evaluating finger nails and hygiene practices, I walked home (2 minutes) and ate w/ my older host brother Aurelio who's 29. After a small nap and reading (Peace Corps goals 4 and 5), I talked to my REAL family which was great and then played Volley Ball for 2 hours which was a lot of fun. My height significantly helps me here—I am yet to see a taller person in the town, and until I can figure out the style of soccer here, I'm gonna stick to volí.

Tonight I prepared a bit of bi-nomial long-division for a Math class I'm helping with tomorrow. I'm pretty sure most of the kids will have no idea about the subject—there are significant differences in skill levels which makes classes very difficult as most lack basic math skills. I hope to focus some on math skills during my time here, so it's good to see what people can do in school.

As I sit here writing this, I have just kicked out the third of three cats in my room—I thought there was only one, apparently there were three (or four for all I know). Besides 6 cats we have 2 dogs, a couple rabbits, and a herd of guinea pig—the rabbits and guinea pigs aren't permanent pets, let's just put it that way.

From Ancash, with Love.

John William

Swearing in and Ancash

Hey Everyone,

My rate of blogging is pitiful, I know.

That is mostly because I am incredibly protecting AND Defending the Constitution of the United States of America--or so we sweared to do at our swearing in ceremony at the embassy in Lima. This was pretty cool--nice to be back in America even for a short while. The ambassador wasn't there, we had some business

We have left Lima (Chacalacayo) and I am now back in Huaraz, Ancash, before heading to Jangas, my official site. It was very sad to say goodbye to my wonderful host family with whom I've shared the past two and a half months. I definitely plan to stay connected.

Will start teaching English and writing my community diagnostic for the first three months of service. The idea behind the community diagnostic is that we get to know the community and its needs in before we start setting up too many projects.

I am very excited to work with my health post, it is fairly active in the community, and I'm also excited to get inside the schools. The town where I'll be is a mix of the modern and the incredibly rural--as seems to be the case in Perú thus far. My house has a nice set-up w/ a fairly modern room and a toilet w/ a Cold shower. My family fairly nice w/ a couple older brothers, though the family is much more reserved than in Lima, which I'll miss a lot.

Looking forward to playing a lot of soccer and volleyball as well. Hope everyone is doing well back home, send me your stories as well, I might buy a USB which'll give me internet access all the time--yeah the Peace Corps' changed quite a bit, but I'm not gonna complain if I get to talk to y'all more.

Much Love de Huaraz. Talk to you soon(er).

¡Site Placement!

Jangas, Ancash. Looks B-E-A utiful.

¡Site Placement!

Jangas, Ancash. Looks B-E-A utiful.

¡Site Placement!

Jangas, Ancash. Looks B-E-A utiful.

A Lazy Saturday

Hello from Yanacoto Again.

[Pictures coming later--Internet is slllllow as we're all on right now-->look above for reason.

While we anxiously await for our site assignments—essentially where we'll be living for the next two years, I found myself with a free Saturday.

The initial plan was to go to a host aunt's house in Chaclacayo at 10 and therefore wake up at 8 and do laundry for an hour or so. These plans quickly changed.

In a household with a two, five, and eight year old, you DO NOT wake up past 8:30 regardless of what you do or how good of a sleeper you thought you were before coming. Therefore a hangover is never muy recomendable. As a short side story—The Hangover movie here is not called “La Resaca”--(the direct translation of hangover as one would assume it would be called) instead it is called ¿Q pasó ayer? (What happened yesterday?)--Anyway that was pretty funny to try to find in a pirated DVD market—it basically involved me describing the plot line in a memorable Spanish conversation –4 huys that get drunk in Las Vegas, y lose an amigo... Just like all conversations here—eventually you get the point across and get what you need—sometimes your neighbors think you just asked them if they are burying a dead body instead of planting a garden (in my defense, I have a Vermont accent mixed w/ español and huerto-garden y muerto-dead person sound pretty similar) but it all works out in the end.

Anyway—back to Today. After stretching my sleep as long as I could until 8:27, I pulled myself out of bed to face the world. I quickly learned from my host mom that we were not going to the aunt's house—plans seem to change pretty quickly around here, and that aunt failed to tell us that she actually wasn't in town until 11 p.m. the night before we were headed over there. Therefore that left more time for laundry—which ended up coming in handy. Washing by hand is no easy task, and when you're lazy and don't do it for several weeks it makes for an even more difficult task. Fortunately, my host mother likes Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers as much as I do, so music helped pass the time as I washed my entire wardrobe that was covered with two weeks of Yanacotan dust (see picture of underwear washing and drying). At least two to three hours later I was done and we had a nice lunch together. After lunch I showered by bucket—I'm surprised how clean you can get after one bucket of water— that's shampoo and shaving--yes ladies, still single :), no still not growing an impressive Peace Corps beard. Recently I constructed a tippy-tap (I call them drippy-drop cause that's more fun)--it's basically a sink and helps wash hands, and is more effective than washing them with a bucket.

After the shower, I walked down the hill w/ Matias the 8 year old to go help w/ one of the other trainee's mini-community projects—painting the soccer concrete field with a map of Perú. Unfortunately we didn't get a jump with this today—things tend to move slow, but we are all set to paint tomorrow and it should be a lot of fun.

After going down, I went to the ferreteria (hardware store—one of the few non-food stores here in Yanacoto—which I think demonstrates one of the key stages of development--Construction..). I asked Elmer, the owner's son if he could fix my computer charger which recently broke. He said he could so Matias and I climbed the hill and returned. Matias and I sat and shot the shit (they need an expression for this down here, cause we seem to do it a lot) w/ Elmer while he fixed the broken cord for easily over an hour. We talked about US culture, and I received plenty of questions about the US—wars, politics, racism etc, and I brought up almost as I always do that “depende de la persona o la región”.

Afterwards I returned w/ Matias, got my computer and went back down to see if the fix would work.

Thanks to Elmer's hardwork and saudering skills, my plug now works again and I can write this blog entry. How much did 1 hour and a half of repair work cost? The friendly conversation and a picture. Elmer only wanted to help, and he told me he likes challenges—all he wanted was to give me his business card and take a picture to remember the day. He also threw in an extension cord—most people are very generous here.

In a good mood I climbed the hill and bought a few ingredients for a cake for tomorrow's get-together and called my real sister Katherine to ask for her famous recipe for chocolate chip cookies. It still amazes me that with 13 numbers and a phone I can call anywhere in the world.

After this success, I went home and ate dinner—fried bananas and rice and we watched some Discovery Kids—Channel 37 is pretty popular in this house. We also decided to watch some of our pirated version of Toy Story 3—lucky for me the version we bought is in English, and it's not dubbed in Spanish, so we put on Spanish subtitles, but for some reason all the signs in it are in what I think is Russian—what do you expect for 1 dollar?

After shaking out my bed for bed bugs, my bed should be free of bichos, my clothes are drying, I'm listening to SK6ers, and the dogs are barking. Good night from Yanacoto. ¿Q pasará manaña?

To Piura and Back

Hey Everyone back home.

After a 16 hour bus ride I am back from Piura, Peru. This past week was Field Based Training. What does Field Base Training mean?

For our FBT we went to Piura on a camabus (bedbus) which was pretty comfortable. You leave at 6:30 p.m. and hope you don't need the real bathroom until 9:00 a.m. the next morning, cause that's when you arrive at your destination. For us that was Piura, in the north, one province away from Ecuador. In Piura it's pretty hot, but being a bad packer, I forgot flip flops, which sucked during the day, and my sweatshirt, which sucked at night, luckily I coped--though it really hurt when I stepped in Shiiiit on one of the last days.

We visited four Volunteers´ sites, some closer to the coast, with drier climates, and one in the mountains. We went to a place called Pambarumbe in the mountains--this was by far the highlight (minus the bicicleta I rode--bicicleta is slang for needing to use the bathroom, the idea being that when it comes you´re gonna want a bike...)

The town is about 300 people--and imagine what that´s like when 12 Americans come. I felt like a member of a delegation--at an inauguration ceremony for a computer lab, we sat up front as the honored guests, and even had to dance while about 80 or so Pambarumbian's looked on. Mostly I followed my Peruvian language instructors´steps and hoped I didn't pee myself infront of the crowd (2 cups of tea before hand may not have been my best idea).

The next day we ran a session at the school. Our activity was trash art and Origami--and it had some great results, with the kids having to represent the idea of keeping Pambarumbe clean with trash art. I'll post a picture, they were really amazing.

On the trip to other sites, we visited a Special Education school, and a couple other schools.

In a picture I will post soon, you can see us performing a play in front of about 100 school children. The play was about healthy lifestyles and was named Al Fondo Hay Baño, a play off the popular Al Fondo Hay Sitio telenovela here (I am told that I look like one of the characters on the show, although I think that's mostly cause we're both white).

Finally we hit up the beach for a short trip which was a beautiful fishing beach, ate a lot of good food--ceviche is as good as the books say and trecked back 16 hours.

Tonight is my host sisters' 2nd birthday, so that should be exciting.

I hope everyone is doing well, and I look forward to hearing from all of you as well.

Take Care, lots of love from South America.

¡Hola Todos!

Hello everyone from Yanacoto, Peru. This is a picture that I took in my new town, about a block from where I live. Life has changed quickly from college, and instead of Suite H with four dudes, I now live with a family of five-Ronald, Viviana (los padres) and Matias (8), Valentina (5) and Antonella (soon to be 2). I also have a 19 year old host uncle Josué who keeps me up to date with the latest "jerga" (slangwords). Things are good south of the Equator, with relatively hot days and cold nights, lots of rice and chicken and cold showers. Lots of new friends, Peruvian and American alike. Next week I´ll be in Piura in the north to go on site visits. Hasta Luego--I plan to write about once a week, and hope future entries will be a lot funnier. Take Care, or as they say here Cuídate!