Chiquián (Peru in general) knows how to throw down. August 28th began an
eight-day celebration of Santa Rosa de Lima. This is not only an eight-day celebration, it is 192
straight hours of partying. The
bands and dancing continue throughout the nights, as do the random fire works
and the grand castillos of flaming
beauty. Later, in selected
persons’ homes, dancing and drinking follow the processions and presentations;
the celebration NEVER dies.
However, I would like to share that, I believe, the main reason that the
fiesta lasts eight days is because Peruvians sit and wait for things to begin
like no other. I went to the Plaza
de Armas with the host family at around 10am; we went to watch the procession
of Santa Rosa—this is the time posted on the flyers mind you. On our walk over, I asked when it
began. Response: ahorita (Right Now!). Great, can’t wait. But, oh I don’t
know…two hours and four ahorita
responses later we go to lunch still not having seen the procession. We eat lunch, I go back to the house to
bring my host sisters some food, change my clothes (it’s getting cold and
late), and make a phone call. I
return to the plaza at 2pm (four hours later) to witness the commencement of
the procession...right on time.
Just one example.
I will have to talk about these bullfighting spectacle later. It is probably a more worthy topic than the rest of this blog.
New story: I went to a five and a
half hour birthday party…for a two year old. You can bet I spotted the man of
honor napping on more than one occasion.
Granted I did show up earlier than everyone else even though I arrived
45 minutes late. It really is no
joke that Peruvians show up to events, especially a two year olds’ birthday
party, at least two to three hours late.
It is hard to believe; I would be so nervous that I’d miss the main
event. On that note, you better believe
I did not miss a moment of the three and a half hour clown act.
Towards the end, he (the clown)
took a seat next to me; the poor guy needed a break. As soon as his sat down, ten kids who wanted their balloons
tied swarmed him. You want to know
what the clown did? He tied one,
grabbed another, tossed it back at the kid, flicked his hand at the rest, threw
back his head, and said I don’t want to.
I haven’t seen a lot of clowns in my time, but imma go ahead and say
that isn’t typically clown behavior.
So, I think when the clown is done, the party should be over. But, alas
I knew it wasn’t. The three cakes
were still whole, so I pushed myself to hold out for the delicious slice of
cake that I deserved for withstanding this birthday party. After the final clown act, which
included a Mardi Gras like scene for
children, I sat patiently waiting for a piece of that cake. I thought it would be hand delivered to
me like the gumballs and marshmallows had previously been. This was NOT the case. In fact my lips never touched a piece
of any of those cakes, not one crumb.
I hadn’t eaten anything since 11am, and if you know me, a hungry Leland
is not a friendly Leland. HOWEVER, around the corner came the hosts with a
plate of rice, chicken, and papas.
Hallelujah, it was actually delicious and void of any feet or
claws—‘nuff in itself. To go along
with how I’ve changed in my first few weeks as a real PC volunteer, I shared
this heavenly, half-sized plate with my host sisters because the kids did not
get any. This would never happen
at home. I guess in the end a
nearly 6 hour birthday party can bring out the best in a tired and hungry
person.
Packing for two years in Peru was
quite the feat. First of all, I am
moving my entire life to a far-away land.
Secondly, Peru is a very geographically diverse country. Here we have the coast, the sierra, and
the jungle. All very different
climates as you can imagine. I did
not know if I would be spending my two years in the dry, deserty coast, high in
the Andes or deep in the Amazon.
So, what to pack for—hot, rainy, cold, damp, dry, professional, casual,
or nothing but dirty loungewear?
Logically, I went with a mix, so far I am pleased with what I packed
into my two bags, under my 100 lbs limit. While I do wish I had my coloring
books and my pillow, what I find I am lacking the most here in the Andes, and I
think this goes for the folks on the coast as well, is a collection of
tracksuits and canvas vests. I do
still, however, feel alright about my packing abilities, as I did not actually
leave behind any tracksuits; I would really be kicking myself if that were the
case. So, just a tip for those of
you planning to travel to Peru in the future—if you want respect, wear a
tracksuit or a vest. It is seemingly
true that a tracksuit is interchangeable with business-casual wear. I typically feel out of place and
underdressed in my cropped black trousers from the LOFT, ballet flats, and a
snazzy button down top, but I know that I would never feel this way if I had a
tracksuit with a Peace Corps patch on hand.
Fun
facts: I unfortunately constantly smell feces whether it be from the many cows
or an actual human being.
Undoubtedly, it is not the best of situations. I realize some of you might be thinking that it is coming from
me as I do not shower or bathe myself too frequently these days, but I assure
you that it is not. I am going to
address this bathing issue though—it is quite scary that I am only two weeks in
and feel comfortable with a weekly shower. Perhaps one day I can take the
Ancash title of longest gone without showering…I think now it is set somewhere in the mid 20s. I am almost a third of
the way there and only weeks in.
The bathroom situation is also regrettable here, while I am truly
grateful for a toilet bowl in lieu of a hole in the ground, I would kill for a
toilet seat and a toilet that is cemented into the ground…Meanwhile, my 4-year
old host-sister pees on the front steps for no apparent reason only to sweep it
up with the broom that I have been using in my bedroom. This might contribute to the urine
scent that isn’t unfamiliar in my life, but I would just kill to know about the
source of the poop. I hope it
isn’t a similar situation, I really do.
So,
two weeks in. I have been wanting
to start working out again.
Especially as candy bars (sublimes),
cookies (tentación coco), and
other snacks were the norm every 2 to 3 hours during training. Sometimes we would throw in some
empanadas, helado, or tres
leches cake—for no apparent reason. Snacking commenced around 10am every
day. This is apparently not only
pertinent to Peru 19, past groups have seemingly indulged themselves in
unnecessary snacking for the fun of it as well. But, anyway, I am in site now, a new page has been turned,
my two year adventure and experience in Chiquián has begun. I am accostumbraring well—to the
people, culture, norms, food, and slowly the altitude. Or at least I put a lot
on the altitude.
There is a small hill up from one
of my high schools. It really is a
small hill comparable to that from the hockey rink to TDX at Union or from the driving
range in Williamstown to the Field House.
Totally doable. No
doubt. However, as I begin up the
hill, I start breathing rather heavily.
I try to hold my breath past the old women with their canes speeding up
the hill so they don’t hear me wheezing.
Takes me a couple minutes to recover, then I can continue along the
thankfully flat remaining roads in Chiquián. I am sure by the end of next week that hill will be a
breeze. Feeling motivated and
slightly bored as this whole past week has been dedicated to Santa Rosa and
there was little for me to do. I
decided to take on the two miradores
(lookouts). Full, amazing views of
the Huayhuash and my town. In this
twinge of motivation, I decided also to begin my runs. Since I don’t need any more attention
from the town, I opted out of a jog through the pueblo.
Instead I chose to take the road down to Usgor the famed waterfall
(which is void of all water during the dry season). What seemed like a steady decline and at times flat, was an
overbearing incline. Eight minutes
down 12 minutes up. A good start
if you ask me. Although for a good
hour afterwards I had a strange smoker-like cough whenever I took deep breaths
in. Just acclimating I
suppose.
Also, my new address:
Leland Garivaltis
Casilla Postal 277
Serpost Huaraz
Ancash, Peru
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