Merry Christmas...now can you please turn up the AC!?!?

"It's just like in the movies," noted Maria Marta's mom, "in the morning, they run to the Christmas tree to see what presents Santa has left for them!" She was explaining to the dinner party about all the knowledge that somehow telepathically reached her from my experience of Christmas over the past 22 years. We were sitting in the air conditioned home of Maria Marta's uncle, waiting for the clock to strike midnight on Christmas Eve. Over the past couple days, I did not really even have a chance to get a word in as Mrs. Pedrotti has ever so rightfully been nicknamed "the radio".

As we sat in the patio, avoiding the 100º weather outside (okay, by midnight it had dropped to about 95º) we held our strawberry champagne in anticipation for the clock to strike. Scratch that....in anticipation for the sky to fall. After 12:00 am on December 25th, everyone and his or her mother shoot off fireworks throughout the city. It was one of the most intense firework displays I have ever seen! I did not actually know where to look as it was a 360 degree experience. Also, huge paper lanterns are let off into the sky and rise until either the oil of the lamp burns out or the entire lantern self-engulfs in flames. The show was, well, loud and colorful, but did not last more than 25 minutes as a huge thunderstorm rolled into Carlos Paz, Córdoba.

By 2 am we were having our coffee and getting ready to head back to the house. In Argentina, though, the schedule is a tad different. Lunch is at around 12 or 1 followed by a nap until about 4 or 5 (because really, it's just too damn hot to do anything else). At about 6 comes the hour for tea or coffee and sitting by the pool. Once the sun begins to set around 8 or 9, it's a good time to go out around the town or begin preparing for dinner. Dinner itself does not normally start until after 10. What does this mean for all those young whipper-snappers like me and my Spanish camp friends?

That's right, at 2 am we were off to the house of one of our camp coworkers to have drinks and maybe go out to a bar. The rain dumped on our plans and we decided to stay in a chat. It was wonderful seeing everyone, but by 5 am I was absolutely exhausted. I think I actually fell asleep before my head hit the pillow, only to be woken up at 1 pm on Christmas day in time to head off to the family bbq. My estimates are that they cooked up half a cow and a few sheep for lunch, but it was fantastic!

I will have to admit, as we were toasting at midnight, for a moment I really wanted to be home. This is the first time I have ever been away from my family for Christmas. It is also the first year without my grandma. Luckily, I am surrounded by my secondly family (my coworkers from camp), but I truly miss my family and my friends.

To all my blog readers from Rochester, D.C., and family/friends elsewhere, a Merry Christmas to you all. I love you, I miss you, and I am REALLY JEALOUS that you get to bundle up by the fireplace at night.

WHAT'S NEW BUENOS AIRES?

"I'm new! I'm gunna say I'm just a little stuck on you...you'll be on me too."

I seriously can't help but sing the songs from Evita as I walk down the streets of Buenos Aires. It's the hardest to avoid doing so as I walk down "Florida, Corrientes, Nueve de Julio...all I want to know" Right, sorry...I will stop that now.

First, I must admit that I committed a sin. During my first 24 hours in the land of cows, I did not eat meat. I did, though, find an amazing sushi restaurant! So, my first meal in Argentina was a Mexican style sushi roll. hehe :)

Over the past two days I have accomplished some great site-seeing. I visited Puerto Madero, La Recoleta, Palermo, El Retiro, La Plaza Mayor, San Telmo and finally made it to Boca. The picture above is from the sector of Boca (also the location of the best soccer team in all of Latin America!) I was really excited to make it to Boca this time around. Three years ago (holy cow I can not believe it has been that long), I avoided making the trip to the colorful corner of the city because Boca Jr. has just won the international cup in Japan against A.C. Milan. It was a little less crazy this visit.

Tonight I am catching a bus and will be on my way to Córdoba, Argentina! I'll be spending my Christmas with my Spanish camp coworkers as well as visiting my professors from my semester abroad in 2003. From there, I will head up to Santiago del Estero for Pablo and Laura's wedding!!!!

Okay, off to enjoy my last hours in the beautiful capital of Argentina: where all men have mullets, all the women are anorexic, and all the children are above average.

If you were to tell me 6 months ago that my dad and I would be climbing the peak of Waynapicchu (the mountain peak in the picture to the left), I think I would have laughed pretty hard.

Last Tuesday, I waited patiently outside the baggage claim door at the Cuzco Airport. A young, 22 year old, security guard decided to take the time to investigate my entire life story. I continuously looked over his shoulder, while politely responded to his interogation, as tourists exited the sliding doors. Finally, after a full 15 minutes, Security Officer, Alan Garcia (I thought he was joking that his name was the same as the nation's President until he showed me his ID badge) asked for my phone number. *Sigh*...another day of the overly flirtatious men of Cuzco. This time, though, I decided to take advantage of the situation. After passing my number, I asked Mr. Garcia if it would be possible to slip through the gate and wait for my parents in the baggage claim. I am sorry to report that the security conditions in the airport of Cuzco are not very tight.

I did not actually see my parents, as my mother practically tackled me on first sight. They were starting day 2 of 11 in a tour of Peru. With their 11 companions and tour guide, my parents and little brother, David, were treated to an amazing tour of Peru. Unlike most tours which take gringo foreigners to all the markets and ancient ruins, my family opted for an adventure packet that introduced them to the very complex and different realities of Peru. They visited children in a rural community school in the sacred valley, toured through homes and businesses of the poorest squatter town in Lima, and participated in a ritual payment to the earth with coca leaves by a local yatiri (a sort of witch doctor) in Cuzco. Their meals, housing, and events planned by the tour program were spectacular! While I only mooched off of one bus trip from Ollantaytambo to Cuzco, I was truly impressed by the organization and information provided by Raul, their guide.

I am very proud of them for making the trip. They definitely went out of their zone of comfort to try new foods, avoiding getting hit by crazy taxi drivers, and witnessing some harsh realities of third world society. All in all, I think I am allowed to say that they had a blast. We visited Machupicchu together and had time for shopping and a few meals between their programmed activities. My friends, Enrique and Gerson, also came from Puno to meet my parents and brother.

Certainly, I can not speak on their behalf for what they perceived on this trip, but I hope that you get a chance to chat with them and hear about my mom drinking coca tea, my dad accidently ordering five appetizers of calamari, my little brother buying riding combis with my friends and me, and all of us eating in the only gay restaurant in Cuzco.

Mom, Dad and David...thank you for the best Christmas gift ever: sharing a week in Peru with me. I love yous guys.

The garden of the Altiplano or the forgotten side of Peru?

What a week.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend, Enrique, asked me if I felt it was hard to adapt to Puno. Rather confidently, I told him that I had learned how to adapt and accomodate to the realities that a new culture presented. This week was by far the biggest test of that assertion.

You know in movies when that new kid walks into the school lunchroom for the first time? It's as if time stops, the silence is deafening, and every single eye is penetrating the presence of the newbie. Okay, well that's how I felt almost every second of every day I was traveling in the province of Moho. Let's just say, it's not a touristy hot spot.

The region is located directly north of Lake Titicaca and borders the nation of Bolivia. In order to travel to Moho, one must take a combi from Puno to Juliaca (45minutes) followed by a bus to the provincial capital of Moho (2hours). I arrived with one of the members of the NGO, Jatha-Muhu, at about 8pm on Monday evening. The trip itself is not exhausting, but the roads are definitely not smooth. The regional government has not paved the highway and, because of the massive amounts of contraband trucks that pass each day, the roads are in wretched shape.

No cell phone signal enter the region and there was definitely no TV or internet. I went to bed around 7pm every day because after 3 or 4 hours of reading I was just tired from boredom. I slept in a relatively comfortable bed. Beyond that the housing conditions were...um...interesting. Let me just give you a hint of a sense of the bathroom: imagine a hole in the ground and two footprints in front to mark where to plant your feet. Okay, now crouch and go.

Day 1- The High Region.
In the morning we went to have breakfast in the center of the town. The house which the NGO rents does not have a kitchen and so food must be sought elsewhere. I was hoping for a piece of bread and a banana. They don't eat like that in Moho. Generally, in most parts of rural Puno, when the locals eat they don't skim on the servings. The population might be malnourished, but it's definitely not based on quantity. We walked into the restaurant and I totally lost my appetite. The sign on the door read "Caldo de Cabeza y Patas, Desayuno" direct translation: "Soup of Head and Feet, Breakfast". Crap. The imagine is really not lovely. Basically its a broth with the ENTIRE head of a sheep or baby calf. As I tried to work myself up to come face to face (literally) with my breakfast, the waitor walked up to our table with two plates of rice, french fries, and beef. PHEW. Turns out, you have to request the soup. Granted, I don't really see french fries, rice, and beef as the ideal breakfast, I gladly ate away.

My first trip took me to the provinces most remote (I didn't think I could get any more remote than I already was). I had to hire a car for the astronomical price of 90 soles for an hour drive up into the hills. Sincerely, the experience left me a bit down. The high region is very depressed and considered in extreme poverty. I met with the leadership for about an hour and they were very welcoming. While they want to participate in the project, they were also curious as to how much money I had and how my funding was used. Because I am doing academic research, I am ethically not allowed to give presents or donations to the community. It's really hard to maintain that attitude when you see the destitution in which the community lives. They told me of their frustrations with the district and regional government. "We are forgotten, " commented one of the leaders.


Day 2- The Middle Region
The second day travel took me to a community about a 45 minute walk from the capital of Moho. The leadership of the community are absolutely AWESOME! We had a good conversation and afterwards I asked them if they had any questions for me. They wanted to know how to develop a market for cuy, or hamster consumption in the US. I explained that it would be a bit difficult as, in my country, hamsters are seen as pets and it would not be likely that people would eat them. Once I gave them the comparison that it would be like eating cat or dog for them they started cracking up. They invited me to stay for lunch, and dinner, and....well...basically they did not want me to leave. I graciously accepted lunch, and promised to return in March. "Okay," one of the female leaders told me, "when you come back in March we will eat pet!"

I truly look forward to returning to this community. After spending five hours conversing with the community members (notably this is the first time I have been positively accpeted by the women), I really did not want to leave.

Day 3- The Lake Region
Okay, day 3 was the kicker. I had to travel alone because the NGO member had to return to Puno for a training program. The bus did not have any more seats, and so, stuffed like sardines for 30 minutes, I road to my final community visit. The president of the community was waiting for me when I arrived, and we walked 45 minutes from the highway to the main plaza.

There were 10 plastic chairs sitting in the middle of the plaza, and I was told to sit and wait as "we would be starting soon". After waiting for an hour under the direct sun (yes, my face is currently a nice shade of tomato) I sat next to the mayor and other leadership while the 20 representatives of the sector marched, played wood instruments, and raised the Peruvian flag. The community, bless their hearts, have to be the most patriotic bunch of peasants in the entire nation. Every Thursday (just my luck, the day I arrived) one of the 10 sectors of the community arrives to the population center's plaza to raise the flag and march in a parade. It was really a very pathetic event. Basically, the marchers marched for themselves...just crossing the plaza once with the flag. Don't worry, I videorecorded the whole bit.

Two hours later, we finally went inside the muncipality. I was watching my clock (12pm) as I needed to get to the highway to catch the 2pm bus back to Puno. I was promised that we would start the interview...just after having some fiambres or cold cuts. Okay, so first of all, the food is going to be a MAJOR issue for me. Each woman walked up to the center table and placed her portion of fiambres. In Puno, fiambres do not consist of cold meats and cheese. Dried beans, potatoes, and corn were pilled on the table. The meeting would not start until all the food was gone. Sigh. This was the second day I had to consume this food.

The frustrating part for me is that the community shows affection and hospitality by offering visitors more and more food. Rejecting the offer is like spitting in their faces. So, I tried to peel the beans as slowly as possible, but I could not avoid the lady that kept handing me more potatos and corn. Yes, I was very sick the following day and today I am still recovering a bit. Next time I return to the community, I will have stocks of cereal bars and fruit in my bag and will fib that I am sick in order to avoid a repeat of the past 24 hours.

After another excellent meeting, I was prepared to take off (though it was already 1:30). The president told me not to worry as a car from the community was driving to Juliaca and could give me a ride. Excellent! The president asked me to walk into a room with him, and I though it was just to chat. I was wrong. In walks a woman with a plate of trout and potatoes. Again, crap. The trout was complete with head, eyeballs, and scales. As I picked away at the skin, the other male leadership lunching with me ate everything but the skeleton. I admit, I had to avert my eyes as they chewed away at the trout's head.

Okay, it's 2:15pm and FINALLY I think I am ready to leave. The president informs me that the owner of the jeep and his companions have been drinking beer for the last 3 hours. Better to find an alternative means of travel. I hire a combi to drive me to the highway that connects with the next provincial capital of Huacané. Accompanied by the community mayor, president, and the driver's three boys, we make it to through the bumpy trek to the highway. There, the mayor assures me that there will be a combi passing by. Twenty minutes later, and five rejections of combis and even two contraband trucks, the leaders flag down a motorcycle. The biker agrees to take me as far as the bus stop to Puno in Huancané. That's right, folks, I am the new Che Guevara! I road on the back of the motorcycle for a half hour simply laughing to myself about how ridiculous my day had been. An hour combi ride to Juliaca followed by another hour combi ride to Puno, I finally arrived home sweet home.

I showered for the first time in five days and got to actually sit on a toilet. March is going to be REALLY interesting.

And so begins the process....

Below is a map of the department of Puno. Most tourists are only presented with the province of Puno. It is in this region where the city of Puno is located as well as the island communities of Amantani, Taquile and the floating islands of the Uros. Outside of this area, in the provinces of Moho, Huancane, Collao, Chucuito, and Yunguyo, the majority of the population is Aymara. In the rest of the provinces, the majority of are Quechua. So things are set! I officially have communities picked out for my research over the months of January and March. Today I met with the first group of leadership from the peasant communities within the province of Chucuito. The Institute on Rural Education has graciously given me the opportunity today to participate in a workshop for the authorities of the district of Kelluyo. I was able to present my project and get initial feedback from them regarding the conditions of health, education, and development. There have been a lot of frustration in the district because of the failure of the mayor to meet the needs of the community because of a major lack of transparency and accountability. Over the past 4 years the district has gone through 4 mayors! Luckily, the situation never became violent, but came close. There was a major sense of desperation in the leaders for access to information and knowledge about their rights in relationship to the elected power. Hopefully I will be able to help them understand what their rights and responsibilities are in relation to those of the local elected leadership.

So, during the month of January, I will live on the farm of the institute, also known as Fondo Palermo. It is located about a mile and a half away from the provincial capital of Juli in the province of Chucuito. They've got their own cows that produce all the cheese and milk needed for those who live on site. Lunch is served every day...and I will be assured a hearty helping of potatoes and soup every day.

The district of Kelluyo is farther away (about 2 hours) and I will travel there during the month with the help of the institute. As part of my research, I have promised anonymity to the participants and their communities. Therefore, I am unable to share with my blog readers the name of the communities where I will be working.

Next week, I am headed up to Moho, north of Lake Titicaca to meet leadership in 3 other communities. This region is a bit more isolated, but has a greater level of contraband shipment coming in from the Bolivian border.

Of the 6 communities I will visit, 3 are considered in conditions of extreme poverty whereas the others are considered impoverished. I still have to see what factors are presented for this level of poverty.

Comunidades Campesinas...here I come!

And so begins the whirlwind of my travels through the rural peasant communities of Puno. I have just arrived in Juli, the capital of the province of Chucuito. Located an hour from the border of Bolivia, Chucuito is one of the larger Aymara provinces in the department of Puno. The town of Juli is known as the little Rome of Latin America because of its picturesque cathedrals.

I left Puno this morning at 6:45 am and arrived in Juli at 8am, a bit earlier than expected thanks to a very fast combi ride. This morning I will have meetings with the leader of a missionary group of the Catholic Church as well as the director of the Institute on Rural Education. The goal for the next two to three days is to visit some communities and meet with local authorities. After the New Year, I will live in the region for a longer period of time to complete my work with interviewing local and municipal leadership as well as holding community focus groups.

Surely, there will be fun stories to share over this week...

a breath of fresh, contaminated air

"So is this what a bar in Puno is like?" The other Fulbright researchers from the provinces just laughed. Where or how to start to describe the differences? Alex, who probably dropped the fact that he went to Yale in every conversation he had during the week, was curious about what life was like outside the city of Lima. Most of the Fulbrighters agreed that he had not adapted very well to Peru living. The funny thing is that the idea of cultural adaptation is so relative. His complaints and frustrations of Lima seemed so trivial when I thought about the living conditions, politics, and conflicts I witnessed in Puno. Moreover, for all his negative commentary, he hardly had anything positive or good to say about his experience. I pittied him for not enjoying the past three months. Of course, we have all seen the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful in our respective regions in Peru. I get the sense, though, that the students who stayed in Lima were not as fulfilled or happy as those who lived in smaller communities throughout the country.

It was quite amazing, actually, how very little the Limeñan Fulbrights knew about the lifestyle outside of the capital. Don't get me wrong, the city of Lima is a totally different world, in comparison to the United States. But, it's really a buffer in terms of cultural differences for a foreigner. As we sat in the bar named Sergeant Peppers (or Sargento Pimienta) in the upper class district of Barranco, I looked at the clientel that surrounded me. To be honest, I felt like I was one among a multitude of tourists. Unlike in Puno, I wasn't the only light-skinned, blue-eyed youth in the room. We were definitely in a pituco bar. The term refers to the rich population of the capital city. Often, people from the provinces refer to the Limeñans, in general, as pitucos, though it primarily defines the population that live in the city's districts of Miraflores, La Molina, Sucro, Barranco, and a few others. For the first time in three months I felt underdressed....no, under-fashionable in a bar scene.

The week has been a refreshing break from Puno. On Monday and Tuesday, I had meetings with the top advisor of the National Council on Decentralization and worked at the library in the Catholic University of Peru. Wednesday was spent in a researcher's workshop to present our projects and get feedback from Peruvian scholars. Friday, I traveled to the US Embassy to have pages added to my passport (yup, I have travelled that much) and had a turkey feast with Embassy staff and Fulbrights. In between, I did some shopping, walked around the city, and got a much needed hair cut. All in all, a worthwhile trip.

It has definitely helped to gain a bit of perspective from the other Fulbrighters as well as share knowledge about Puno to people who are unfamiliar with its culture (I even taught people from Lima things about Puno they didn't know!) Additionally, I was able to enjoy some comforts that made me feel a bit closer to the States: hot showers, comfortable sofa-chairs in coffee shops, movie theaters, big-red gum, walking around shopping malls, political conversations over dinner with other researchers, big red gum, libraries, cable tv in my room, NFL sportsbar to watch Thanskgiving games, soy milk, mexican and sushi restaurants...

Still, Lima is neither where I belong nor what I love about Peru. I know from that list I make Puno sound like it is in the middle of nowhere. These are just little things that are not in my life in the highlands. On the flipside, there are things about Puno that I miss and really look forward to having once I return on Sunday: clean air, a sense of security on the streets and taxis, greeting people I know as I walk around town, great meals for 5 soles (average price for a meal in Lima's tourist district is 20-30 soles), my friends, not feeling under-dressed all the time, daily parades...

I just stopped a moment and took in what I wrote in the two paragraphs above. Almost all the little bonuses of Lima were materialistic in nature, whereas my pluses of Puno were more subjective and in reference to a sense of community. Maybe that's what I forgot to share with Alex from Yale :

The difference between a bar in Lima and a bar in Puno isn't based on the kind of drinks you have, the music they play, or the clothes people wear. The real difference is that, unlike in sprawling city of Lima (population 9 million) you have had the opportunity to insert yourself in the a community of a bar's clientel...where everybody knows your name (is the theme song ringing in anybody's head?)

I think the other province Fulbrights would agree.

Lima...take two and tasting much better

I am back in Lima! This time, I am here for a week event hosted by the Fulbright Commission. I will have to admit, I was not looking forward to coming to the coast. Last time I was here, I definitely had a foul taste in my mouth for the city. The past 24 hours, though, have been marvelous! The Fulbright has put me up in an extremely comfortable hostal in the calm district of Barranco. Having a nice room with an exceptionally chill atmosphere definitely makes a big difference.

Since I have arrived to sea-level (after 3 months up at 13,000ft) I feel like I could run a marathon. Its seriously an amazing feeling to take huge, deep breathes...and enjoy the smell of the ocean at the same time. Oh, that's the other thing! My current spot is right next to the coast and I have already enjoyed two long walks to Miraflores, looking off into the Pacific. Seeing the sun, and enjoying 70 degree weather makes quite a difference. My only complaint was that once I got to Miraflores, the Starbucks was having problems with their water filtration and I couldn't buy a drink. I know, I know...but come on! You think I can go for an entire year without a tall americano!??!!?

This morning I met with the top advisor of the National Council on Decentralization. Because the local elections just finished yesterday, he was a tad preoccupied and apologized for having to cancel our meeting. Granted, he still met with me for an hour and invited me to return later this week for a more formal interview. He's so great...definitely an old, liberal sociology professor stuck in the body of a political advisor.

I think the main activity this week will be hanging out in the Catholic University library. Of course, I will take a quick break on Friday to have turkey and gravy with the other Fulbrights and (I think) the US Ambassador.

OH, and I have to share the exciting news!!!!! I just found out from another Fulbrighter that we are being flown to Cartagena, Colombia in April for a conference with the Andean nation Fulbrights! How cool is that?!!?!?

In the land of swimming cows

I must apologize for having taken a bit of a break from sharing my stories on my blog. Things have been a bit crazy as my semester comes to an end. I have finished my internship with IDEA and sent in my thesis proposal for my professor at American University. I am headed off to La Paz on Thursday for a day trip and then I will be in Lima for the entire following week...having the Turkey Dinner with my fellow Fulbrights and the Ambassador of the US.

After next week, I will begin my interviews and field research at full force! I will be doing a LOT of traveling through the month of January, so please be patient with my entries. They will be spontaneous, but very interesting!

Of course, I need to share with you my weekend visit to the island of Anapia. This took place a few weeks ago, and I have taken forever to finish the entry....but here goes:

Last Thursday I traveled to the border of Peru and Bolivia to spend the weekend on the island of Anapia. Having worked on the child literacy program in conjunction with the director of a local island NGO, I took up his invitation to visit his home.

After a trip that included 2 hours, in a bumpy combi , 3 hours waiting in the market of the town of Yunguyo (and getting pretty unfriendly stares from the women of the city), another half hour bumpy ride and a sloooooow 2 hour boat trip on the village communal boat (with a bag of something that smelled REALLY nasty right in front of me), I arrived to Anapia. To my surprise, my contact, Jose was not waiting for me on the dock. A young girl from the community took me to his house, but it was empty. Turns out, he was still in his chacra (farming field) planting potatoes. The town was empty as everyone was working on the fields. As the sun was setting, I wasn't sure what to do or where to go.

Luckily, the children in the community were very friendly, and one invited me to wait in his home until Jose returned. As it turned out, I was suppose to be greeted by my weekend hostess, Maritza...she had just turned up a bit too late to the dock. Her home was GORGEOUS! The guest room was even more comfortable than my home in Puno. To my suprise, unlike the island of Amantani, there was electricity, running water, toilets, and even a hot shower!

I was truly blown away by the organization, cleanliness, and calm of the community. They have not been overwhelmed by the tourism experience, but instead have prepared and adapted to the presence of small groups of visitors. I was invited to create my own schedule for the weekend...basically I could do whatever I wanted!

So....on Friday, I went with my host, Hidilago, to attend his third grade class at the local school. We had discussed over dinner the previous night the work I had done in Amantani as well as at Concordia. To my surprise, I was invited to teach the class! It was really fun! We did math, reading, and spelling activities. The kids taught me some songs and I shared games and songs from camp with them. They were full of very intruiging questions like, "Why do you write with your left hand?" and "Why does the snow fall in Minnesota?" If anyone has those answers...please let me know because I did my darnest trying to figure out how to explain them!!!!!!!!!!!!

On Saturday, Maritza and I walked to the other side of the island, jumped in one of her friend's row boats, and went to the neighboring island, Yuspiqui. While the community lives in Anapia, they maintain their farming fields in Yuspiqui. I had arrived just in time for the potato planting season. We arrived at Jose's chacra where his wife, son, and daughter were working the land. Maritza and I joined them, breaking the soil and prepping the seeds.

Anapians don't use any chemicals to prep their seeds. They go the natural route....using NATURAL fertilzer. In a bucket, Jose's wife had a lovely mix of vicuña (a wild cousin of the llama) poo and pee. They cover the potatoes with the vicuña salsa (hahaha) and let it sit out in the sun.

After prepping the potatos we had lunch (I swear I doused my hands in that sanitizer lotion). Lunch was a blanket full of boiled potatoes, chuño, and fried eggs. Maritza, worried about my Westerness, had brought everything except the kitchen sink....silverware, plates, the salt shaker, and even the tea cups and saucers. In the end, though, we ate just like Jose's family...picking at the potatoes with our hands. Lunch was finished off with a cup of tea and chewing some coca leaves. Jose taught me how to bless the potatoes "so that they will grow bigger than my head" and thank the Pachamama (Mother Earth) for her help in their fields.

With the help of two oxen, we finished planting the potatoes in the fields. I was in charge of dropping the potato seeds into the open earth. They instructed me to place each potato a foot-length apart. In reality, I had to place them about a half a foot-length apart...my feet are a bit longer than that of the women in the island.

Once we had finished dropping the poo covered potatoes into the ground, Maritza and I took off in search of a ride home to Anapia. We finally found one boat that was about to depart. They asked us to meet them about a half mile down the island where their cows were waiting for them. Cows waiting? Alright....I hope you are ready for this:

One of the boat's passangers helped us onto the boat and then began pushing the cows towards the water. That's right, cow's swim. The two hephers were great swimmers, nor did they seem too happy. Their bellies floated about the rest of their bulk and their eyes scanned wildly. I felt really bad for them, and to be honest was a bit worried they would tip the boat! Still, they made the 20 minute swim to Anapia. So now I think I know the true way to make ice cream (yuck, yuck!)

The Rural Traveler

I just got back from another weekend on the island of Amantani. The community of Suncayani Alto welcomed me with open arms... 80 little arms to be exact. We are trying to develop this project with an emphasis on having Puno's local university students take the iniative in volunteering. Unfortunately, folks were a tad too busy this weekend partying. I must admit, I was a tad upset that no one would take the time to travel for a day to the island. One of my to-be companions showed up at the house around 1pm...a bit late seeing as the boat leaves at 8am on the dot. So I was alone to receive the hugs from the island's children.

After settling in Silverio's house and having lunch with two very shy Swiss tourists, I was off to the community's school. I hoped to meet roughly 20 kids, as that had been a relatively manageable number last weekend. Not surprisingly, word had spread about the activities and books that I had brought last Saturday. I was confronted with 40 VERY animated kiddies. We played a couple of games that drew lots of giggles. Afterwards (and I am still amazed about this), I read an entire book to the kids and actually kept their attention! Even better...the kids understood the story after I asked them some comprehension questions.

After finishing the story of Pinochio, I asked them what special tool the fairy used to turn Pinochio into a real boy. "A magic wand!" the kids exclaimed. "Very good!" I told them "Now, I don't have any magic wands, but today I have a very special magic box for you all." In my special box were 50 pieces of colored chalk. Each child got to pick the color of the chalk and draw the different characters from the story. They wrote the names of the characters and drew Geppeto, the fairy, the fox, the cat. One boy even copied the image of Geppeto and Pinochio in the boat fleeing the angry whale. This wasn't enough for the kids, and they wanted to draw more characters....Little Red Riding Hood and the wolf, Alice in Wonderland and the rabbit. Within an hour the entire patio was filled with blue, yellow, red, and brown images and words. Let me tell you...there were a LOT of mean-looking whales on the school patio yesterday!!! Project chalk....accomplished and quite fun.

The rumor had spread on the island that I was going to shower the children with books, notebooks, pens, etc. The goal of our work is not to dump gifts on the population. Instead, we are trying to work with them to promote a reading culture. When I met with the parents, the proyect was clarified in this sense. They had just finished building a kindergarden for the younger students. We discussed the option of using a small portion of the center for a library. I promised to make a deal with the community. As our intent was not to simply donate things in the community and run, our group would work with the community to create the library. If the community agreed to develop a communal fund for purchasing books, materials, as well as maintaining the local, the volunteers would help with the construction and purchasing of materials to begin the library.

To anyone reading this in the U.S., if you are interested in donating to our project please let me or my mom know! The easiest way would be to send money to buy products (chalk, notebooks, books). My hope is to also gather funds to purchase a stereo and buy basic English/French/German comprehension tapes so that the families can develop basic vocabulary in order to communicate with the tourists they house.

The parents were very upbeat, and decided that they would vote on the issue in the upcoming weekly meeting. They asked me how much money the project would demand of them. I told them that a) it was not my place to make that decision, but it would be an important issue to debate in the community, and b) I recommended that they designate a small monthly fund in order to consider this project as a long-term, sustainable resource for all to enjoy. Again, the important knowledge that we as volunteers will offer is how to create a space that is respected and enjoyed by everyone in the community.

The kids and parents were a bit upset that I won't be back on the island for three weeks. While I do enjoy spending a day in Amantani, I really think it is necessary that others in our group step up and get involved. Additionally, I have made some other committments for the next two weekends to share with you all later....but here is a quick preview:

next Saturday- writing party with the kids on the floating island of Kuntiki...the kids are going to make up myths about their island. Either I will go to their island or they will come to Puno and we will go do some shopping at a book store!

following Saturday- I will be donating my fertile youth to the fields of the island of Anapia. I will be working with one of our island coordinators, Jose Flores, on his land and getting to know his community.

I left the Amantani this morning at 5am on the communal boat and arrived in Puno to shower and repack my bags. This afternoon I am heading out to the rural province of Chucuito to begin my contacts, interviews, and setting dates for my focus groups following the new year. This week, I will be staying in the city of Juli with two German theologians and working with the contacts I have made through my host institute as well as the Institute on Rural Education. I will return to the city of Puno on Friday with lots of stories and hopefully lots of interviews/meeting dates. Keep your fingers crossed!

Well at least they know how to get their point across...

So, today I was suppose to give a presentation on ethnographic research methods to members of the Institute on Aymara Studies. The presentation has been postponed...hopefully until tomorrow. From time to time, classes or events are cancelled because of the unpredictability of weather. Normally because with too much rain Lake Titicaca floods over onto the highway. This was not the case today.

Wwhen I went downstairs for breakfast this morning, Jeny mentioned that four French tourists had left early this morning in order to compensate for the additional time they would need to travel to Bolivia. I thought it was a peculiar comment, and I asked why the trip would take extra time.

"Oh, because they were reporting on the radio that they are blockading between Puno and Ilave" she commented. I immediately dropped my bread and ran for my phone. I called Juan, my internship coordinator, and asked him if he had heard about the news. He had not, but would confirm it with me after he made a few calls. Sure enough, four of our participants had already emailed to inform him that they were unable to arrive because of the strikes. Juan called back, offering that we could attempt to pass through the blockade. As tempting as that sounded (pure sarcasm, Mom, I promise) I thought it best to wait until tomorrow.

Having been in Puno for two months, I am extremely use to parades and manifestations. There is some kind of march literally every day. It's really funny when the tourists that are spending their token day in the city of Puno witness one of the parades. "Wow, how lucky are we to be here on a parade day!" I have heard over and over again. Oh, if only they knew....

The primary purpose of these gatherings is to dance, or as they say here desfilar. Oh, I would like to take this opportunity to complain about the damn university next to my house STILL is practicing for a parade coming up on Friday. Every night for the past 2 weeks from 5-10 there is music blaring on the street. The worst part is that they play the same damn song over and over again...I am really, really looking forward the end of this week, and I also don't mind if I never here this particular song ever again.

Sorry, let me refocus....Occasionally, there is a march in protest of something. Typically here in Puno the protests focus on issues of education. I think teachers spend more time striking than actually teaching in the classroom. Take, for example, the professors who have effectively cut off the only viable route from Peru to Bolivia.


As you can see on the map-------------------> There is really only one road on the southern side of the lake from Puno to the border with Bolivia. It cuts through all the main cities of the southern provinces (Chucuito, Juli, Ilave, Yunguyo, Desaguaderos).

In reality, I am not quite sure how intense these strikers are today. From my knowledge of the culture of blockades in Bolivia, as well the information provided in the U.S. Embassy Security Briefing I attended in August (that effectively scared the crap out of me ), I don't think I am going to try to make my way through the blockade.

I want to share with you all my first outing to Amantani. Another little activity I am taking part in :) The proyect, unofficially titles "Por y Para los Wawas" (For the Children) is a volunteer program focused on developing literacy in rural island communities. Our team is made up of Peruvians living in Puno with mixed talents (teachers, doctors, nutritionists, sociologists). The travel agency, All Ways Travel, is coordinating our travels and contacts in the community.

Being considered the expert on motivating children (thank you Concordia Language Villages), I am making the first trips with Señor Victor from the agency to meet the kids and present the project to the parents. There are 9 communities on the island of Amantani. Yesterday we visited Sancayuni Alto. This comes out of my journal writing while I was on the island:

I feel like I am living in a scene from Little House on the Prarie. In the small, adobe house, I sit by candlelight writing my journal. Today I have witnessed the marvelous challenge presented by the difficult realities the Amantani community faces.

This morning the tour boat departed at 8am with 20 tourists in tow--4 Americans, 2 Spaniards, 2 Chinese, and a dozen Dutch, Señor Victor and me. I felt completely apart from the tourist pack. The first stop was on the floating island of the Uros. While the tourists listened to a presentation by their guide and an Aymara leader from the community, I sat with a group of kids on the other side of the island. They took turns reading from the only book they could find on in their houses. For about 45 minutes we had a lot of fun reading and playing games. It was obvioulsy very productive interacting with these kids while we work our way to our island destination.

The tourists were curious about my relatively abnormal behavior and a few of us began to chat. I am quickly realizing how knowledgable I have become about Puno culture and realities that are difficult to pick up without having been around the region for a while (p.s.- today marks month #2!!!!)

Three hours later, our boat arrived to the dock of Sancayuni Alto. Señor Victor was immediately flustered because no one was present to meet us. The leaders were very busy delegating the tourists to their homestays and had an additional burden with and NGO whose representatives wanted to do house surveys of homes serving to tourists. Jonatan, a little 7 year old boy took us to the school where supposedly 100 kids were waiting for us. We found no one in the school house. This, of course, set Señor Victor off a bit. I convinced him that we should find housing and eat lunch before we continued.

We found housing with Silvanio, one of the community leaders. As our visit was unexpected, his daughter, Alicia, quickly made a lunch of soup and a plate of rice, fried egg, and potatoes. While we ate, Martinez, another community leader gathered 20 children (ages 5-13) to meet us at the school. This was a perfect group as we had purchased 20 books (stories like Pinnochio, the 3 Little Pigs). Each book cost 2 soles, and the purchases came out of Señor Victor and my pockets.

I led a couple of warm up games like we do at camp. The purpose was to let the kids get to know me a bit more. Luckily, they were EXTREMELY responsive and participated...giggling the whole time. Sometimes I had to wait while the older children translated what I was saying in Spanish to their younger siblings in Quechua. Spanish is only a second language they speak in school. Next, we shared the books with the children and performed two skits (The Cat in Boots and Snow White). The kids were very excited to act...especially the 7 dwarfs.

The bigger challenge came, though, once we tried to read in the classroom. One boy participated in the reading, and actually did relatively well. Unfortunately, the others had little interest in listening. To regain their attention and make sure they were comprehending the story, I stopped every paragraph or so to act out the scene or draw on the chalkboard. Fortunately they understood my drawing of the whale that swallows Pinnochio. The approach proved extremely effective.

After the kids ran home with their new gifts, we again struggled to hunt down the parents and community leaders. I don't believe it was a lack of interest on their part as much as being uninformed. On our part, we also lacked an understanding of the schedule of the community for properly sequencing our activities with them. Once we got the parents (manly the men) together, Victor began to give a speech about our work. The women had to return home to cook for the tourist who were returning from their hike to the island's peak.

Being a foreigner and young woman, I never spoke directly or forcefully. I left this to Señor Victor. It is definitely not my place to challenge the community leaders. I presented myself and then took pictures at the permission of the meeting participants. Afterwards, I went to sit down, and realized I had sat in the row of the men. I quickly got up and walked over to where the women and children sat. This gesture was evidently appreciated, especially by the women.

Señor Victor was very firm in his presentation of our project. I worry, though, that he went a bit over the top. I will NEVER discount him for his passion and determination in the work, but I am concerned that he is speaking down to the community a bit too harshly. I was then asked to add a few comments. Trying to counter Señor Victor's intense comments, I spoke more meekly and thanked the parents for allowing me to spend time with their kids.

The meeting was productive. The parents were animated about me returning this coming Saturday to work with both the kids as well as a group of parents. The primary idea is to create a puppet show with the characters from the books. Additionally, with the parents, we will discuss how to incorporate reading in the home. I hope that I will have 1 or 2 other volunteers with me next week. Señor Victor is helpful with the transportation issues, but is a bit rough with both the kids and the adults. Another positive from the meeting was our new community coordinator. Flavio, the elementary school teacher wants to help us coordinate and plan activities.

So, I will return to the island next Saturday with my toilet paper, flashlight, handwash, 4 layers of clothes, sunscreen, toothpaste, and deoderant. For the family I will bring fruit as a present to thank them for their hospitality and a book for their daughter.

P.s...There is NOTHING more amazing than walking on the island with nothing more than the moonlight from the sky and the lake's reflection guiding you as clearly as in the daytime.

Thank you Teacher

I do kind of cringe when they call me "Teacher". I am not sure whether it bothers me more because I would prefer my students to call me Laura, or because as a student in the US we never addressed "Ms. Gabriel" or "Mr. Hrabe" as "Teacher". Yes, I have another activity in progress here in Puno, Peru. I am teach English! Kind of funny, no? I have never taught English...always Spanish!

The director of the Peruvian-North American Cultural Center and I met during our chit-chat with the U.S. Ambassador a couple of weeks ago. He commented that the institute would really like to have a native speaker to teach the advanced students. Seeing as I don't have any formal TEOSL skills, I explained a bit about the types of activities we do at Concordia Language Villages. He was thrilled, and asked if I was interested in using the CLV methodology in a type of conversation class with students.

So, now I teach an interactive class every Monday and Wednesday for 1.5 hours. We play games, create skits, watch movies, etc. The idea is to present American culture in the context of interactive language participation. In general, the institute faces a challenge with a culture of very shy students. This is VERY difficult when the purpose is to learn to communicate with the English language! Most of the students grasp the grammar, reading comprehension, and I think they have a good listening comprehension. The downfall is in oral comprehension.

So far, my class has been receptive. John, the director, claims they love the style of the class (which we have titled "Free Chatroom"). A couple of the professors in the institute are my students, but I have a healthy mix of highschooler and adults. I am REALLY pushing them to be active in the room. They are not receiving any formal grading beyond class participation. But the way I have designed activities...well, they have no choice BUT to be involved (hehe).

"Random" Urban Development

Okay, I must comment on the peculiar approach to urban development that occurs here in Puno. I don't really know how construction planning is implemented and/or controlled, so to be culturally sensitive, I will not jump to conclusions and call it "poor" ...we'll just say it is, well, "random" urban development.

The city of Puno is relatively small and quite easy to manuever by foot. Still, that doesn't mean that you can let down your guard ONE BIT. Very, very important note...pedestrians do not have the right of way. No way, no how. I think I've mentioned this three or four times to my parents, and I will repeat again and again: cars do not stop for you. Even if you are crossing the street and a taxi is going to take a left hand turn behind you as you are crossing the street...he has the right of way. Luckily there aren't too many cars in Puno (and it isn't the insanity that Lima's traffick presents). Still, with high quantity of taxis, tricycles, and motobikes it is important to look both ways about seven times before crossing the street.

Another unique feature of Puneñan streets are the sidewalks. Walking down the road reminds me of old school atari games. Remember the little dude with the cowboy hat who climbed latters, jumped over rolling barrels, and fell through the holes? Yeah...it's kind of like that minus the barrels. It is very important to be completely aware of where you are taking your next step. Sometimes a house has been built all the way out to the curb of the road and you have to walk in the street. Other times, there is a hole in the sidewalk or a pole or two or dog poo (lots and lots of dog poo). If a group of people are walking towards you, it is the best bet for the person walking against the traffick to challenge the oncoming tricycle.

Today, I could not help but laugh as I walked home. It was a bit colder than I expected and I planned on going home to snuggle in bed and practice my Aymara. As I rounded the corner to my street, I found that the entire road was blocked. In front of my house were roughly 50 students practicing a traditional dance...in the middle of the street! I am talking these guys were LITERALLY blocking the entire road. The leader had a whistle in his mouth (reminded me of the Music Man) and the troop behind him followed diligently left-two-three, spin, right-two-three. A boom box BLARED the music on the street and the sidewalks were lined with about 100 interested spectators. I guess I am going to have to find a quite restaurant to study in for the night. There really is no where else to practice...no space besides a street I guess! Interesting urban planning, huh?

IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD

Have you ever been in a thunderstorm at 13,000ft? Let me just say that I am glad that my first experience occurred while I was still in the city of Puno.

Last night I stayed late in the office to work. Around 6pm it started getting dark and windy, but I wanted to keep working through the hour. Suddenly the sky began to fall. It was raining very intensely, but within five minutes the rain turned into hail. The hail was no bigger than pinballs, but it was as if it was snowing! In the end there was about an inch of hail on the ground.

AND THE LIGHTINGING! Oh my God. Being closer to the sky equals being closer to each and every bolt. HOLY CRAP. If you have ever seen the electrical storm in the movie "War of the Worlds" with Tom Cruise, I think that you will have a good idea of what a normal storm is like here. The entire sky lit up at every ray. I couldn't even count through "one mississippi" before POW! BAM! BOOM! It felt like it was immediately on top of the building.

Needless to say, I quickly shut off the computer. People outside were running frantically in the hail storm. Most took shelter in the Cathedral across the street from my office. The temperature had dropped at least 15 degrees. For the first time I could see my breath in the air. I called a cab and was dropped off at the restaurant to meet Gerson and a friend. They were relaxing with a glass of wine, enjoying the weather. They did not even flinch while with EVERY bolt I jumped a few feet from my seat. "This is nothing", they commented. "The rainy season is only starting...and there will be storms like this once or twice a month."

WOW...I must say that experiencing Puno's storms is something else. I am not looking forward to the storms that start at 3am...and much less when I am living in the peasant communities in the rural sectors of Moho and Chucuito!

Another little trip...this time to the "caca" side of the lake

HOLA FROM LA PAZ, BOLIVIA!

I decided to take a small trip across the border for three days. It has been a wonderful escape! Last time I was in the city was spring break, 2005 with 20 other AU students. This time around has been QUITE different...much more informal and relaxed seeing no presidents are resigning from office (though the culture of Bolivian blockades continues).

My favorite Peruvian restaurant owner, Kike, joined me on the first leg of the trip. We traveled the real way: woke up at 5am to ride a combi from Puno to Desaguaderos. It was a bumpy three hour ride for 6 soles (around $2). The experience at the border is something else. I apologize that a written description just would not do it justice, but wow...organized chaos at its finest. After getting our passports stamped, we got in a cab with four other passengers (2 rode in the trunk) and paid 20 bolivianos a person (less than $3) for an hour ride to La Paz. Correction-the taxi driver would only take us to El Alto and dropped us off on the side of the highway. From there, for 1 boliviano, we rode another combi into the city. Let's just say this was a bit more adventurous than the luxury my AU trip afforded...but at least this time I didn't pass out from lack of oxygen!

Yesterday, Kike and I spent the day walking EVERYWHERE. The CRAZY thing is that I remember how to get everywhere in the city! I remember where the restaurants and markets are that I visited two years ago! Thank you, Dad, for my photographic memory. We had a crummy lunch, but found the sushi bar we were craving for dinner and felt much better. Our other major goal was to watch a movie (no theaters in Puno), but the only movies playing were Click and some movie about a monster house (???). OH! There was another movie that we decided to pass on- ¿Quién mató a la llamita blanca? (tranlation- Who Killed the Little White Llama?) Don't worry folks...I have a picture of the movie poster.

This morning, I met with Gary Shaye- Director of Save the Children, Bolivia. On our AU trip in 2005, he gave us a presentation of the work his NGO does and ever since we have stayed in touch. I can confirm that he is the coolest American in Bolivia! We had a great chat and he introduced me to a contact from Peru. But Mr-Bend-over-backwards-to-help also went out of his way to recommend a restaurant for lunch (even printed off the entire menu) AND book my trip back to Puno! My return will be a bit more touristy, as I pass through Copacabana on a tour-bus. With roughly 50 other foreigners I will be traveling for a whopping $13 (41 soles or 100 bolivianos). I take off tomorrow morning at 8am and return to Puno around 5pm. Not too shabby!

This afternoon I enjoyed a lovely cup of Yungas coffee in Cafe Alexander...the Starbucks of La Paz (sad to say but still no soy milk). Afterwards, I went to a really cool photo museum with historical pictures of the region. Tonight, I am treating myself to a dinner on the 20th floor of the Plaza Hotel. The panoramic view of the city from the restaurant is something else. Again, I will have pictures to share afterwards.

I did not have time to do everything I wanted in La Paz, but I plan on returning to pick up anybody who would like to come visit me!

CRAZY weekend escape...

Okay, I have to offer you the play-by-play of this weekend. Seriously, it was ridiculous.

The plan: Go to Arequipa to see Gonzalo Cerati, a famous Argentine rock musican, perform. The original idea was to get on the bus at 4am on Saturday morning, go to the concert, and return to Puno on the Sunday bus at 4am. Here's how it went down:

Friday
8:30pm- begin celebrating the weekend at Mojsa by sharing a bottle of Argentine wine (in honor of our beloved Cerati, of coures)
8:45- three separate tour groups, totaling 35 people show up for dinner ALL AT ONCE! The head chef had already left and the restaurant was short one waitress. We quickly put aside our half full glasses of wine and start working. Yup, I played waitress for two tables of Dutch tourists that night.
10:15- plates are empty and the tired tourists head off to their hotels. The restaurant door is locked and, after running around like maniacs for the past hour, we return to our wine and conversation
11:00pm- cuban salsa lesson with our Swiss professor. We had to warm up a bit for our first exam...at the discoteca.

Saturday
12:00am- off to Domino, the discoteca to dance for a few hours. Always a blast.
3:00- we leave the club to gather our stuff, jump in a cab, and arrive at the bus terminal
4:00am- of course the bus is late! As we are waiting, Yerson suddenly decides he doesn't want to go!!! An intense conversation ensues as we try to convince him...but the decision is made just as the bus starts to depart. We go RUNNING after the bus and make it just in time as it leaves the terminal. Oops....we all make it except Gabo!!! He jumps in a cab and chases the bus down about 2 miles later. All on the bus, minus Yerson, we sleep after a long evening of dancing.
9:00- arrive in Arequipa practically sweating...it was soooooooo hot on the bus. We jump in a cab and head over to Giorgio's house to freshen up.
12:00pm-everyone is starving and we decide to hunt down lunch. Chifa (Chinese food) is the choice of the crowd...mmmmmmmm fried wontons and white rice. A few other friends show up (the group I was traveling with all are friends from high school. Half of the group still live in Puno while the other half have migrated to Arequipa). We are now joined by Gonzalo and Martin. Only one word is need to describe these guys: HILARIOUS.
1:00- content with our full stomachs, the boys decide to go to a picateria to have a beer. Basically, this is a typical little patio restaurant. Here's the interesting part. There are 8 of us and they order 3L of beer. The beers arrive with two cups- one glass and another plastic. The beer is served in the round and after each person drinks their glass cup they "clean" it by pouring the remaining fizz into the plastic cup. Girls never serve themselves in the round. The male preceeding the female offers her a cup and then serves himself.
4:00pm- After a total of 9L of beer (I passed after I had probably consumed a total of one 12oz. beer), we decide to head out to prepare for the night. Giorgio asks everyone to be at his house AT SIX ON THE DOT. Ursula and I head to the main square of Arequipa to walk around and have a cup of coffee.
6:00..on the dot- Ursula and I return to Giorgio's house. We are the first ones there.
7:30- everyone finally arrives at the house and we pass out our tickets and jump in cabs to head off to the concert.
9:00pm-the line moved through quickly, and we are inside the Beer Garden of Arequipa (beautiful stadium). I have my first bag of popcorn in MONTHS! mmmmmmmmm. lights suddenly dim and the concert begins! The tickets cost 15 soles (less than $5) and we are within 20 yards of the singer. The light effects are awesome, the music is spectacular, and the crowd is completely tranquile. All in all, probably one of the most enjoyable concerts I have ever attended.

Sunday
12:00am- Cerati finally takes his last bow. He played for two hours straight and the crowd kept begging him for more. We are a little cold and tired and decide to look for cabs to head off to Gonzalo's house.
2:00am- After walking roughly 2 miles trying to hail cabs we FINALLY make it to the house. The guys get pisco and sprite but Ursula and I are exhausted. We go to sleep upstairs in the guestroom.
(NOTE-we have missed our original time to return to Puno...but sleeping seemed like a MUCH better option)
5:00am- We are rudely awakened by the boys. They want us to help them finish the bottle, but I put up a good fight of refusing to open my eyes and sit up. I win and go back to sleep. Everyone finally calls it quits and sleeps on couches throughout the house.
7:00am- Ana wakes me up for breakfast. Not a problem! I jump out of bed and the three girls head to the center of Arequipa for a nice breakfast of bread, coffee, and fruit. We are completely "despeinada" (messy hair, overly tired), so luckily the plaza was empty!
9:00am- Back to Giorgio's house and freshen up. We're waiting for the boys to wake up and meet us at the house. I promptly sit on the couch and fall asleep.
11:00am- The boys show up and we start flipping channels on the t.v. Giorgio has cable!!! ESPN!!!!!!!!!! I got to watch a bit of football!!!!!!!!!!!!! My weekend was complete.
12:00pm- We say goodbye and the original Puno crew finally heads out to the bus terminal. The most comfortable bus leaves at 2pm. We grab lunch and blow sighs of relief as we watch the much less appealing 1pm bus leave the station.
2:00pm- On the road again
7:00pm- Back in Puno. I run home for my meeting with the Proyect Community Amantani team. I will share more about that in the future.
9:00pm- In Mojsa to grab a bite to eat and chat with my travel companions. The University of Puno is still celebrating it's annivesary in the streets and we decide to run around and take pictures.

It was a crazy, fun weekend. I will not forget this one and all the friends I made.

how about a little commission, eh??

Fine, I will admit that from time to time it can get kind of lonely living abroad. Living in Córdoba, Argentina, it was hard to find a quiet moment in a house with 12 housemates. This time around, I spend the majority of my day alone. When I am reading, I stick to either my room or a restaurant (no Starbucks here to get my caffeine fix, though I have found some quiet locations that have good expresso...oh soy lattes, how I miss you). Otherwise, I am bouncing off to the town of Chuquito for Aymara language classes and between different offices or internet cafes in Puno. During these first months, my effort is to build up networks and knowledge base that will prepare me for my field research in the rural provinces of Moho and Chucuito come late November and after the new year.

The evenings are the hardest time for me. I have never been a very good student after dinner time, and prefer to wake up early to get work done. My mind often drifts off into the evening, but I have found ways of keeping myself occupied when my intellectual capacity to focus is lost.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays my house bro, Yerson, and I join a few friends who own the restaurant Mojsa (translated from Aymara--sweet or pleasant tasting) to take cuban salsa dance lessons. The kicker is that our professor is from Switzerland. Don't judge to quickly...this Swiss can move! Granted he kind of looks like Gumbi with rhythm because he's so thin and flexible, he's a very patient teacher and we all have a lot of fun. I may not have the natural latino hip movement, but I have been able to keep up with the steps we are learning.

Other days, I have enjoyed the opportunity that my housing situation presents. The tourist turnover in Puno is impressive. People often stop through the city for a day or two. Normally, they will arrive early in the morning by bus or in the late afternoon by train from Cuzco. The first full day is typically devoted to visiting the floating islands and sometimes staying overnight on the island of Amantani or Taquile. By the next day, the tourists head off for Arequipa or Cuzco. Sometimes they will continue on to La Paz, Bolivia. Right now, that is not a popular choice as there have been continual protests and strikes that are blockading the major tourist route of Copacabana...gotta love Bolivian political realities these days.

I really enjoy meeting the tourists. Sometimes couples arrive, but often the traveler comes alone. Having traveled a lot, I know how overwhelming it feels to arrive in a city and hardly know anything. Where's good to eat? What can I learn within one evening while I am here? And, most typical when arriving to the altitudes of Puno, damn, I feel cruddy...I just want a pleasant meal and a nice conversation. Enter moi. When I have nothing else to do, I offer to accompany the new arrivals out for a relaxing dinner. Where to? Coca Kintu, of course! By far, it is the most enjoyable meal in Puno. The adminstrator, Mark, is originally from England and has settled in Puno after marrying a local (they just gave birth to their second daughter a week ago!). The food is spectacular...think French cuisine-training meets traditional recipes of Peru.

With my temporary new friends, I have enjoyed wonderful evenings that often start around 7 or 8 and end nearly by 11pm. Normally the travelers have raging apetites and enjoy the large meals of alpaca with fig sauce or trout in andean herbs. I stick to the smaller appetizers like the wonderful kingfish rolls (think cooked sushi). A nice cup of coca tea or vino caliente (a much better version of mulled vine) and a pleasant evening of travel tales ensues. Mark will often join the table with a glass of wine and chit-chat.

I have shown up about 4 or 5 times now with fellow house guests and he's joked about giving me comission...I am waiting for him to pay up! Regardless, it's a nice balance to the days full of sorting out the research that overwhelms me. Plus, I hardly speak English anymore, and I need to make sure I don't get too rusty!! :)

Contrabando...everybody's doing it!

Every Tuesday and Thursday I ride on a "combi", public transportation, from Puno to the town of Chucuito for my Aymara language and culture lessons. The ride takes between 15 to 35 minutes and costs one sol. The ride time fluxuates because people can get on and off at any time.

We don't leave the station until the combi is full (squished seating capacity of about 18 people...in a car the size of a mini-van). If more people want a ride, well...they get to stand. I have been on the ride when roughly 25 people smash inside the car. Generally, it is a painful ride for me as I am very tall in comparison to the other people on the ride. Not a lot of leg room, and let me tell you, the smell is not so pleasant.

On the way back from Chucuito to Puno there is always a stop through a make-shift customs post. About 10 police officers check every car and bus that passes. The road is the only route from the border with Bolivia and is NOTORIOUS for contraband. Typically the stop if very brief. A police officer asks the driver for his documents and sometimes they peek around the seats looking for anything obvious. In all of my experiences to-date, the police hardly make an effort to look around, and no one has ever been questioned or detained. The police never even come close to me or any other foreigners on the ride.

The amazing part, though, is that on EVERY trip I have taken, someone has gotten past with contraband. A normal case is a woman with a large bag full of clothes, shoes, and sometimes electronics. Once she gets on the combi she will unwrap her bag and pass the items to the other passengers. People will put the leather jackets on, sit on top of the pants, or tuck pairs of shoes into their own bags or under their shirts. The woman will almost start begging you if you refuse to help.

This happened the other day when Juan road back from a conference that was held with the NGO. The woman kept asking him to help, and he kept refusing. Finally, she tucked the bag underneath both his and my seat. On this occassion, the woman was smuggling TONS of stuff. She had at least four or five bags full of contraband and additionally looked enormously overweight as she had things tucked all around her body. Almost everyone on the ride had a possession of her on or under their person. She did not even ask me to help...I have never been asked to hide anything. I think it best that way. "Fulbright fellow detained for smuggling contraband" doesn't really sound like the publicity I want to have while I am in Peru.

Once we arrived at the check station it was obvious that people were a bit more concerned than normal because of the quantity of goods that were on the combi. The police officer who came into the inspect the ride took five seconds and hardly even made an effort. We were flagged to move on and continued to Puno without a problem.

As we pushed our way out of the packed combi in Puno, Juan asked me what I thought about the ride. I told him I was fascinated by how much contraband had passed through with such ease. I asked him if he ever helped hide contraband and he said no. But then he commented, "you know we both helped the contraband sneak through?" He was absolutely right. Indirectly, having not said anything, we were accomplices. The other choice would have been to said "hey, Mr. Policia! Everyone on the bus is wearing a piece of contraband!!!!" The probable reaction would have been rather ugly, so I think it much better to shut my mouth and participate in silence. It seems the best of the two evils.

Now, I feel it is important to note that contraband is a reality of life in southern Peru. The region is economically depressed. These products simply are not obtainable by the majority of the populace that live in the city and rural areas. Walking through "el contrabando" (the market where all the contraband is sold) is an eye-opening experience. You can get ANYTHING there--microwaves, Ralph Lauren polos, Bailey's liquor, underwear, Pringles potatoe chips...you name it. The prices range from outrageously cheap to rather pricey. I asked the price for a nice pair of sketcher's sneakers and it was roughly 120 soles (roughly $40).

Judge the situation as you like, but contraband is just the way things work here...everybody's doing it!

"El Receloso, El Extranjero" The Distrustful, the Outsider

Today in my Aymara class, I learned a very interesting word: kharisiri which roughly translates from Spanish to "the one who cuts the throat of an animal or person."

My question which instigated the presentation of this term and the subsequent myth was "how are foreign investigators seen by rural Aymara communities?"

Well...

There is a myth that explains how outsiders (or more appropriately, white people) are considered kharisiri...those who that cut out the cebo o grasa (fat) of the local people. According to the legend, if a local sees an white outsider who has no connection, no reason for being in the community it is likely that they have come to take the cebo, or some kind of the person's essence. If this is to happen, the individual can become very sick and die. When this happens and the local witnesses a strange presence they do not completely understand or even remember happening. Sometimes the outsider appears and suddenly transforms into an animal (dog, donkey, bird). Often the experience occurs, as if in a dream, and the local awakes abruptly in another location feeling disoriented and troubled.

Once the local starts becoming sick, the symptoms are presented with intensive sweating, fever, headache, indigestion, etc. Normally, the local has forgotten what caused the event to occur and they turn to the community's curado (relative to what we in the U.S. would understand as a witch doctor). The curado uses guinea pig or coca leaves to understand why the person is suffering.

The rural communities are certain that sick individual will not be saved in hospitals because the doctors do not understand how to cure this illness. Generally, the cure to the illness imposed by the kharisiri foreigner is to help the sick person gain weight. They are fed black lamb and different types of herbal teas.

My Aymara tutor explained that the myth came primarily from the suspicion of priests and other missionaries who would come into the communities to convert the populace to Christianity. He mentioned that if I am to work within the community, I must to so through trusted contacts. For sure, he noted, I will not be able to tape record my focus group discussions. It is also highly unlikely I will be able to take pictures of the local participants.

As I listened, I sat rather awestruck by the implications of the myth. Now, I am extremely glad that I chose to take the slower, more prudent route of putting my foot in the door here in the city of Puno. Through the next months the challenge will be to develop these trusted contacts that extend into the rural communities.

baila...let me see you dance baby.

Last night Jerson, my house bro, invited me to join him in a going-away party for a Spanish friend who had been interning in tourism projects here in Puno. The party was fun and I met a lot of people! When you enter a party you greet everyone...once it started getting a bit busier it became a sort of receiving line. Guys greet each other with a handshake, girls greet each other with a "besito" kiss on the cheek, and guys greet girls with a "besito" as well. Initially, everyone was very subdued. Jerson joked that parties often start this way...he called it the "velatorio" period of the party becaues it's like being at a wake. Finally, people started eating the "piqueos" or snacks that were cooked by the Spanish hostess (I guess they can officially be called tapas), and drinking either rum with coke or pisco with sprite. Salsa and reggaeton music were played and people danced a bit off and on.

After a couple of hours, Jerson and his friends were getting a bit restless and wanted to go to the club to dance. Now, those of you who know me understand that I am not a big fan of clubs. I don't like tight spaces, being approached by strangers to dance, etc. So I asked to be dropped off at home as the group went to the club. They agreed, but were upset that I didn't want to dance. As we hailed a cab, they kept trying to convince me to go.

Turning up the block to our house, the following conversation insued (I have done you the pleasure of translating it to English):

Jerson: Come on Laura...we'll only stay for an hour! It'll be fun...just an hour I promise
Kike, Ursula: Yeah, yeah...come on Laura! We'll only stay for a bit
Me: er.........
Jerson: Here comes the house! 5...4....3...2....1! Too late! You're coming! Driver, to the club!
Kike, Ursula: Woohoo!!
Me: Alright, alright...but just an hour, right?
Everyone: Yes, yes...just for a little bit...

Three and half hours later, we were still having a blast! The club was so nice for a couple of reasons. First of all, it wasn't overwhelmingly packed. There was a lot of space to dance, sit, or just stand around and chat. We didn't spend much time doing the latter two options. It was a great mix of everything...salsa, tecno, reggaeton, cumbia, traditional andean music, and even Jon Bon Jovi! Another nice aspect was that we danced among ourselves and after a while some other people from the house party came and joined us. There was no need for me to fake being Argentine.

At one point, though, some friends of Jerson asked if I was his friend from Lima. "Yeah," he responded and he gave an address of a rich friend who lives in Lima. Hahaha...so now here people think I'm a wealth Limeñan! I was told my salsa dancing skills weren't too shabby. This helped me pull off being Latina. I even taught my friends to dance cuarteto! I guess at this point I must thank my coworkers at El Lago del Bosque for our dance activites...and wonderful moments shared in Jammers :)

Finally, at 4:30, Jerson and I got home and CRASHED! Supposedly we're going out tonight again...I think I should head home for a siesta!!

Aymara yatiña?

Do you speak Aymara? I don't...yet. Today I had my first class on Aymara instruction focused on the alphabet and pronunciation of the letters. Aymara has 32 sounds and an alphabet developed from the Spanish pronunciation.

Most of the letters are equal to the Spanish pronunciation: a, ch, i, j, k, l, m, n, ñ, p, q, r, s, t, u,w, x, and y. Notice that there are only three vowels that are pronounced with roughly 4 sound variations.

The tricky part of Aymara is creating the breathing and skipping sounds represented by an additional "h" or " ' " respectively. It's really all about the placement of the letter on your tongue or throat. I am pleased to announce that my professor, Santiago, stated that I have perfect pronunciation! The "h" sound, as in "thantha" (old object or thing) is easy for me because it's similar to how we pronounce "the" in English. The use of the apostrophe is a bit more difficult. You kind of have to bounce between the letters as you say words, such as "p'akiña" (to break an object).

So that's what I'm working on right now. Later I get to learn words like "sarxarxapxañäni" (we are ready to leave for a trip). Oh, but you can also spell it like "sarjjarjjapjjañäni"...but the use of "x" is more linguistically economical.

On my way back from my class, I met a young British student who is teaching English in the small town of Chucuito (the picture below depicts the town's main plaza). On Thursday we are going to meet up and he is going to give me a tour of the area. He knows a lot as he has been translating tour brochures for the municipality.

Tomorrow's a holiday in Peru, but not for me! The lovely collection of decentralization legislation awaits me ever so patiently on my desk. I have to learn how to say "not so fun" in Aymara...

Mmmmmm...cow heart

My first week is coming to a close here in Puno. I had a very relaxing Saturday with a trip to the local street market and shopping downtown. In the evening, I went out for dinner with three house-guests from Mexico, the US, and Japan. It was a very fun evening...though we struggled with the poor Japanese girl. She hardly speaks English and even less Spanish. She's been in Peru for two months studying the behavior of alpaca in accordance to what type of vegetation they eat. Yea...she gets a lot of interesting looks from the locals.

I enjoy the balance of my housing situation. On one hand, I am treated like a member of the family. The kids invite me out for meals and weekend parties. Jeny and I often sit and chat over breakfast. She has introduced me to typical cuisine. For example, this morning I had a very soupy rendition of oatmeal mixed with orange juice. It was very good...and I normally HATE oatmeal! On the other hand, I get to meet a lot of interesting tourists that stay for a day or two. After they go out on a daily excursion to the ruins or lake Titicaca, I can accompany them downtown for a meal or a drink. I am definitely not lonely, and that has been a nice change from the first week in Lima.

Today was also quite fun. Juan invited me to a bbq at his house. It was a bit different than the asados I am used to with my argentine friends. There was SO much food! Meat and veggies and salads and drinks and bread! My two favorite dishes were the salad made of apple, celery, and mayo and the best meat....cow heart. I know you're all thinking "GOO!" (or maybe just Wiggins hehehe) Seriously, seriously, it was fabulous! I arrived at around 12, the food was served between 2-3, and afterwards we played a typical family game called "sapo" or frog. I left around 5pm completely stuffed. The funny thing is, though, that I didn't eat that much. Since I have arrived in Puno a week ago, I haven't been able to eat a lot of food at once. At the high altitude, digestion takes a bit longer. But I'm not worried...I think the cow heart will hold me over for the night! :)

Puno...baby it's cold outside

I HAVE ARRIVED!!!!! I have now settled in the place that I will call home for the next 9 months. Puno is just as beautiful, tranquile, colorful, and cold as I remember. My host family has welcomed me with open arms. Jeny and her children (ages 16, 22, 25...I'm horrible with names right now) welcome tourists into their home, but they have truly treated me as a member of their household and have ensured that I feel comfortable with them.

This morning I saw the GORGEOUS Casa del Corrigedor (see the photo below). Juan, my boss, and I sat down today to chat about the details of my work. I know he's going to see this blog and be very angry that I call him my boss. hehehe, lo siento Juan :) From the looks of things, I will be interning with the NGO Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in the city of Puno. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I will travel to the city of Chuquito (15 minute ride in combi) to take Aymara language and cultural classes. The rest of the week I will have time to work on my thesis. Additionally, I will be offering English "charlas" at the Universidad del Altiplano as well as to Jeny.

I've only encounter two unenjoyable realities of traveling to the sierras of Peru. First, it is REALLY COLD here. I'm talking brrrrrrrrrrrr. Showers are short, scarfs and gloves are the typical fashion, and I sleep under seven blankets. The sun is intense but it is still necessary to wear jackets and a layer or two extra at all times. Second, and this serves as a warning to all travelers: watch what you eat. I have been VERY lucky over the past few years of my travels, but today I was not that fortunate. Trying to enjoy a bit of food outside of the tourist zone, I ended up in the bathroom for a good hour. I will spare the details. After an herbal tea, the wonderful medication offered by the Mayo Clinic, lots of water, and rest I feel better. I learned my lesson. It's important to stay in the touristy areas because the food inspection is much better. A bit more expensive, but as they say in Spanish, vale la pena.