Cajamarca

Mountains. Cheese. Friendly people. An actual home for a few weeks. What more could a girl ask for?

I´m staying with a fabulous family, the father of which is an obstetriz, which is not a doctor, not a midwife, but basically a technician...for removing babies. They are trained as obstetricians/surgeons only (as oppossed to in the US where we have two types of baby catchers: physicians whose specialty is OB-GYN and midwives--either nurse practitioners or traditional, who are experts in womens health and the normal process of labor and birth). I´m sad to say that here the system combines the worse of our worlds--it´s highly technical--lots of C-sections and episiotomies and the woman has to stay in bed, yet the doctor is not trained in other aspects of medicine. Basically they are at least 15 years behind the US in this area....So, since baby extraction does not really interest me (for those of you who don´t know, I`m a nurse, and aspiring to be a midwife), I`ve just been hanging out at the clinic. I don´t feel I`m too helpful either, because much of the care and the instruments are very differnt, more or less due to lack of resouces. For example, needles are re-used for IV medicine administration (for the same patient, not between patients), gloves are rarely used, and as oppossed to the US where everything is in separate packages and we have very specific things for specific purposes, here there`s a couple bottles of alcohol a vat of cotton balls, and some tape, and you use those three things for basically everything. None of the fancy tape, gauze, separately packaged alcohol swabs, q-tips, etc. IV fluids are in bottles and if there´s no IV pole, well you just get creative...stack it on some books, say, and forget iv pumps, and hopefully you remembered how to break open glass ampules from nursing school, because that´s what all the medicine is in! It´s a very interesting experience, and like most experiences here, it shows me how much we think we need in our daily lives that we could really get by without.
It really is kind of boring having specialized things for everything in our daily lives, as well as having our own of everything. Though kind of a pain in the butt, I actually enjoy making the trek to the internet cafe to share my computer time in a big room with a bunch of strangers. And there are locutorios everywhere should you need to make a call, so no need for a phone...unless you want to be contacted ever (details, details). I feel like my capacity for creativity and improvisation is severly lacking compared to the people here. And too, I feel like we loose a little bit by being so disconnected from the most simple things in our day...laundry for example. When I learned that I´d be doing all my laundry in a bucket of cold water here, my first reaction was ugghh how tedious, and it was funny realizing that I don´t actually know how to properly wash my clothes in this manner. I´ve done laundry in the sink before, but only misc pieces of clothing, never on a grand scale. I´d feel a little snobby about this if I hadn´t been doing all my own laundry since I was in 7th grade..but of course in a machine. I was delighted however to find that doing laundry, having a connetion to its becoming clean, hanging it out to dry on the rooftop, and collecting it the next day (crunchy, but pleasantly smelling), is actually a pleasure. The first time I collected my laundry and realized, ¨Omg, it´s clean! And I did it!¨ I was actually grateful for the experience. And of course, I can enjoy it because I´m not rushed here. If I was at home, I´d be none too pleased if there was something I wanted to wear, and I had to wash something by hand and then wait for it to dry. We need things now! And indeed, I´ll definitely go back to washing my clothes by machine when I´m home, but I really do appreciate the experience of taking it slow, enjoying the process, and having more of a connection to the things in my daily life. I actually feel a sense of gratitude when I put my clothes on, which is nice :)
Along the same sort of domestic lines, the family here, like many families, has a maid. A whole nother journal entry could be dedicated to this (my discomfort with the concept of someone having a ¨lower status,¨ sleeping on the roof, making my food, cleaning my dishes, carrying things for me when I am perfectly capable... as well as the fact that she couldn´t go to school past 11 years old; but also that this is an opportunity for work for her that she wouldn´t maybe otherwise have had, etc, etc). The maid had the day off on Sunday, and I found myself doing the dishes, because it seemed that the family actually felt quite uncomfortable doing them. I lept at the opportunity to actually be useful, and did the pile of dishes, again feeling gratitude for the sense of connection to my food and my day.

Other notes: Apparently it´s hard for ¨vertically challenged¨people to get jobs here...which is another thing, to me everyone is short, and I´m barely 5´5´´! For the first time in my life, I am actually quite tall! But apparently there is no sort of law against descrimination, so it is hard for women, short people, and unnattrative people to find work, says one of my friends.

Also, a little more about the house: People here are very protective (which I alluded to earlier when talking about the history), so basically every door locks automatically, so I have to bring my keys with me at all times--hard for me, coming from a family who never locks the door, and who tends to leave the keys in the car. Even while riding in the car here, people always lock the doors.

My room is more or less outside. There are walls, but its on the rooftop and its freezing, so I have a mountain of blankets when I sleep. And the bed...I need to upload a picture, the bed frame is literally made out of boards (that frequently fall down and I sink down to the floor) and cardboard with a thin matress atop it. I feel like I´m camping. I have bruises on my hips from sleeping on my sides, so I´m trying to train myself to sleep on my back. Also the water is turned off after 9. And the hot water heater for the shower is electric...right at the shower head, so every now and then, I get a little (very mild, but always surprising) shock. Also, of course, the water isn´t drinkable, so I either boil water or buy bottles at one of the many little tiendas (shops) in the streets. But I have to say again, that I am so happy to have a room of my own to settle into for awhile. And it´s nice to be awoken each morning to chickens and dogs...well, when I´m in a good mood that is...

More later about the family, the meals and food (holy giant stacks of meat), the town, the bathrooms, herbal medicine, and strength of the people when it comes to comsuming alcohol and staying out late, as well as the glorious festivals of Peru (someone told me there are 2,000 or was it 3,000 per year)

much love, Rachel

voyage to Cajamarca

I spend a lot of time on this trip repeating the following phrase in my head: (insert parental advisery): what the fuck??
WTF is going on?
WTF happened to the street I am searching for?
WTF am I eating?
WTF are they talking about? (I`m getting better if you are wondering, with my Spanish...but there`s still a great deal of time where my brain is stuck on the aforementioned phrase)
WTF am I doing here exactly??
And especially I was thinking WTF on my trip to Cajamarca, in an unairconditioned bus with no bathroom, through the mountains on incredibly bumpy (shall we even call them roads?) roads, for 9 hours... those who have traveled with me in the mountains know this is a triple-whammy. And since I had nothing to do in my state of nausea and delirium but stare out the window, I found myself repeating in my brain something more along the lines of ``Well I´ll be damned....who knew this was here?`` The mountain scenery was absolutely breathtaking. I again wondered to myself, why the heck do people even go to Europe??? Central and South America have incredible history and architecture, fabulous food, art, culture, crazy diverse and beautiful outdoors, and it´s cheap! I guess it`s just not as well-publicized...it´s not as `sexy,` which is crazy to me! But I can´t say that I mind. I find myself being the only whitey everywhere I go (however things will change of course when I head down south to Cuzco).

Back to the incredible scenery...coming from Iowa, I thought I knew a thing or two about the country and cornfields and cows...but let me tell you, you ain´t seen nothing until you´ve seen cows and corn terrace-farmed into super old crubly brown and red mountains with cacti growing all over, pristine green-blue lakes and rivers passing through, as well as intricate antique ground irrigations systems, not to mention donkeys hanging out in the ditches and pigs tied to trees (see, WTF?). And the people we passed wore the traditional mountain campesino clothes: tall straw hats, black shoes, and were wrapped up with their babies on their backs in hand-woven blankets and shalls. It was like something out of a movie, which is something I have to continually remind myself of--that in fact, this is not a movie, that I am actually doing this...I am in Peru, by myself, on some crazy pot-holey dirt road, going through the mountians... (WTF? how do I find myself doing these things???)
jajajajajajaajaja. Translation: hahahahahahaha
ahhh, I love my life!

Another town, another Peruvian boyfriend

It´s a blessing and a bother that wherever I go, I attract people. It´s part the friendly nature of the culture, and part the novelty of a light-skined, light-haired, green-eyed Americana. It´s hard to imagine people in the US flocking to foreigners who can barely put together a sentence—in fact, we tend to steer clear of anyone who may invoke an awkward situation or delay us in anyway in our day. But here, it`s quite the opposite. And I am grateful for that, because I always have someone to talk to and practice my Español with, but with my adventure to Huanchaco, I have to say I almost lost it... I have been incredibly understanding of cultural differences in how people act toward each other (specifically between men and women)...maybe I`ve even given a little too much slack to some certain inappropriate men (like when they want to go somewhere and then oops no $, so I have to pay for taxi or entrance, or I let slide when they call me their princess and drape their arm around me continually). But when the person is genuinely friendly or approaches me out of curiosity, of course, I never mind, but when it feels like I am being taken advantage of, it`s very hard for me to maintain the love and respect I try to hold for all persons.... I should start out by saying that I left Trujillo to go north to a little beach town, called Huanchaco, both to have a little alone time before I leapt into my home stay, and also with the hope of finding a clean bed and maybe a hot shower. After waking up itchy and discovering ants in my bed (I wasn`t surprised after having to basically sweep my bed before getting into it), I decided it may be worth the $10 to spring for a hostel.

So, along the way to Huanchaco, I met a nice, businessy looking guy named Manuel. We decided to share a taxi since we were headed in the same direction. I intended only this, but then he insisted on helping with my luggage, and then going out to lunch so he could practice his English. Sure, fine. But then he wanted to walk around and show me the sights…holding hands and telling me how much he adores me and how it was fate that brought us together...and then he wanted to kiss me (sorry sir, you´re only about the 10th guy who has tried--this is not a unique little excursion--you are not my latin lover, this is not fate)…and after I very clearly and bluntly explained to him that I did not want that, and in fact that I found his behavior innapropriate--that this is not how men and women act in my culture, and that American girls are not like they are portrayed in the movies and on MTV, and furthermore that American girls do not want to be lavished with compliments and physical affection (this is another thing: Apparently Peruvian girls love to be told how beautiful they are constantly, and with a slew of cheesy phrases....I can´t tell you the number of ridiculous (to an American girl) things I´ve been told. My favourite being from song lyrics, like ¨Rachel, when a man loves a woman, can´t keep his mind of nothing else¨ (direct quote from un-named boy) and ¨Everything I do, Rachel, I do it for you,¨ thank you Bryan Adams...). Anyway, it`s uncomfortable for me having to be so stern with people—it`s simply not in my nature, but I end up having to be quite the bitch to get the point across that NO I don`t want to be your girlfriend, I don`t want to kiss you, and absolutely NOT you can NOT take a nap in my hotel!!! It`s crazy too, I feel like the bitchier and more physically unapplealing I am, the more attractive I am to these men. Today´s a clean day…I showered for the first time in 3 days, but as you can imagine, I spend a good amount of time being smelly, greasy, acne-ified, and generally unpleasant looking, especially when I don`t sleep well because my bed has bugs in it, and I am dehydrated because nobody freaking drinks water here (I am not exaggerating). Good lord.

I do want to make a special note though on how fabulous the food was at this particular lunch. I had a palta rellena, which consisted of one and half avocados (wait, wait, don´t count the fat grams yet), stuffed with mayonaisey seafood salad and topped with cream....mmmm. It went perfectly with my favourite juice: passion fruit.
I have to say though, that the unpleasantness of my encounter with Manuel (and I should note that I had three other male admirers in my 2 day stay in Trujillo/Huanchaco), was not overshadowed by the lovliness of waking up peacefully in a clean bed, taking a nice clean shower, and enjoying a cup of coffee sola. Also, there was a pet turtle at the hostel, and hammocks to lounge in.

More soon about my current location: Cajamarca!!

Love, love, love, Rachel

PS I would like thank American men for your subtlety when it comes to romance. As much as American women complain about American men not being attentive or romantic enough, and as much as I ablsolutely adore the warmness and open-ness of Latin culture, when it comes to romance, it´s quite frankly over the top for me (and I can be kind of mushy myself!)....Thank you my dear American boys for not saying ¨I love you¨ after knowing me for one day, for not constantly having your hand on the back of my neck or around my shoulder, and for not whining that I don´t really love you or that I won´t give you enough time....!!!!

Trujillo

I am in Trujillo now, which is a 9 hour bus ride north from Lima, which I hopped aboard at 11:30 last night after partaking in some couch surfing festivities. If you didn´t know, I´m having the fabulous experience of couch surfing here in Peru, which has involved staying with some great hosts and meeting some really fabulous people (not to mention the amazing parties!) Today I went to Chan Chan, which is Peru´s largest pre-Incan empire (The Chimús)´s capital, and was built somewhere around the year 1000. It´s a giant adobe city that is estimated to have housed 30,000-60,000 people. It is UNESCO World Heritage Site. And I am delighted to report that I got there by myself using my once-dreaded microbuses. I neglected to say earlier that one of the most intimidating parts is that someone hangs out of the bus door and yells at you and you have a second to decide if this is the right bus or not, and jump on as they yell or grunt ¨subri subri,¨ to get you to quickly accend the stairs and mash yourself uncomfortably into your many neighbors on the crowded bus. Then when you want to get off, you have to push your way to the front and say baja! But, now that I´ve done it a few times, I feel much more comfortable...and as for the pay rate, I just hand them a sol and hope it´s sufficient.

and here is a link about the clowning trip:
http://www.patchadams.org/campaign/clown_trips/peru_aug_2008

ding ding ding, ugliest city in the world!

19.08.08: I´ve been nearly on house arrest in Lima due to the facts that I don't really understand the language nor the city. Lima is enormous, dirty, LOUD, cold, and unfriendly, not to mention inexplicably hideous--its like Paris without all the beautiful archetecture, on crack--it´s grayer, much much much much much dirtier, unfriendlier, and with an incomprehensible public transportation system...there are no subways, only crazy mini-buses with mysterious pay rates and esoteric routes. Oh yeah, and to top it off, the city is surrounded by ugly, brown, outer-space looking mountains that trap in air pollution, and seem to seep the dark fog that clouds the city.

Today though, I took to the streets...I have discovered that I am actually in an area called La Molina, which is quite a distance from Central Lima, Miraflores, San Isidro, and Barranco, which is where most of the action is. I´m not sure how to get to any of the afore listed places, besides taking a taxi...if they feel like taking you the little jaunt, which in my experience in trying to hail a couple taxis, they don´t want to. So, I walked around for a couple hours in my immediate area and stopped for a cafè, papa rellena (a potato based pastry thing stuffed with olives, meat, and onions), and an alfajor (two thin butter cookies stuffed with manjar blanco, a sort of caramel). These kinds of days I really enjoy being a sola traveler. There´s no worry in getting lost, no obligation to find anything or do anything specific, because my whole purpose is simply to take in the life around me. My style as a traveler is not so much a sight-seer, but as a life-observer. When I went to Paris, I think the only ¨sight¨ I saw was the Lourve and the Eifel Tower as I strolled by, not bothering to stop into them. I feel like those things are seen and forgotten, but to experience the life of the people in a different place, is something you can carry with you always. There I spent extended periods of time sitting in parks and cafès, tasting the local food and observing the people, the animals, and the diurnal life as it unfolded.
So here too, I´ve enjoyed just walking--seeing the day slowly unfold--stopping for several minutes to observe a bird I´ve never seen before, watching women in green jumpsuits and masks sweep the streets with brooms, men in their workshops--welding and building things out of wood (how often do you see that on the streets in the US? Building for us is picking something up from IKEA and assembling it with wood colored tape and color-coded screws), seeing people drop off laundry, peddle candy and cigarettes on the streets, and seeing people going to and from there and here (maybe if I watch for long enough I´ll figure it out), etc.

If you´re wondering why I´m not in Cajamarca (at the clinic) yet, I´m with you. As I´ve noted before, everything takes longer here. Best to let go of any sort of schedule (believe me, it´s not easy, but I see it as an exercise), and instead hold on to the absolutes...I do hope to do a trek to Machu Picchu, and I do hope to volunteer at the clinic in Cajamarca for some amount of time, oh and learn Spanish...all the other things, which I would like to do too, might fall to spontaneity and necessity--allowing for 3 hour lunches, getting unfathomably lost, doing tasks like getting my laundry done and treating illness and bugbites, and extended conversations with strangers. C`est la vie.

20.08.08: Traveling, especially alone, is weird because it strips away your suppossed reality and day to day ¨obligations,¨ and makes you face yourself without the facade of a routine. Your skeleton appears and you are given a glimpse of your tendencies and points of weakness--your cravings, your thought patterns, etc--and if you look hard enough and allow there to be enough space between thoughts, you start to see the little things in your life that create happiness and unhappiness. You really see how in actuality, the things that are making your life what it is: unhappy or difficult or whatever it may be, are entirely created within you. And the good, but sometimes hard news is: they are under your control. When you have the entire day, or days at a time, to do exactly as you wish (which is surprisingly harder than it may seem), you see that you can do whatever you want to do, always...and your choices and reactions are what shape your life.
Hopefully that makes some sense outside my own head...

I haven´t found a word in Spanish for ¨hang out.¨ (Spanish speakers if you know one...please enlighten me! You don´t realize how much you use a word until you try to use it in another language and there doesn´t seem to be an equivalent). I think the reason there is no word for it, is because ¨hanging out¨ seems to be synonymous with existing here. Literally in the past 2 days, all I have done is hang out...Yesterday Mayte (my cs host)´s friend came over around noon. We went to lunch (for a few hours), and then went back to her house and literally hung out on the couch until almost 10pm. I gather (at least with this group of friends--obviously I can´t make judgements on a whole culture based on them) that many hours are spent chatting on the phone, chatting on MSN messenger, watching telenovellas, and lounging on the couch chatting about relationships...oh the drama that thrives here around a thing called love....

21.08.08: Today I did it...I rode the bus....I´ve ridden the little buses like this in South Africa and perhaps elsewhere, I can´t remember...but it´s a whole different world when there´s a language barrier. And the problem with the buses is that you have to know where you´re going and where the bus is going. Today was moderately successful. I went in the direction I wanted, but at one point (thank god I was paying attention), the bus turned down a different road and I had to get off. But that´s the good thing--you can get on and off wherever you want, as opposed to traditional bus systems with actual stops. I have to say, it´s exhausting always having to be on guard--trying not to get robbed, trying not to get lost, trying not to get swindled into something, making sure your $ isn´t fake, and trying to communicate...so much we take for granted in our neat little daily lives.
And of course a trip to South America is not complete until you have a little car trouble. Yesterday when I was returning from Miraflores, my cab had to pull over because the hood started smoking....a lot. The driver jumped out and told me not to worry, the car simply needed some water. He pulled a big jug of water out of the back and dumped it in and/or on the engine, then pronounced it better and jumped back in. We chugged off at about 25 mph on the highway, and I searched for my seatbelt, lest we stall and get hit. My search turned up nothing however. The car was basically a skeleton with no sort of logical anatomy. I have to say though, I had a good time--I love the spirit of the old taxi drivers. I exclusively choose them (for saftey reasons too). We spent the ride rocking out and dancing to what he called ¨American rock,¨ but what I call ¨disco,¨ haha. I can´t tell you how much crappy music from the 70s-early 90s they just looove to play at loud volumes here.

22.08.08: Today I did manage to get out and see a museum. It was a fantastic exhibit on the last 3 decades in Peru, which if you don´t know much about Peru´s history during the late 70s through the 90s, was incredibly turbulent (to day the least). Governement corruption, kidnapping, mass terrorism, at least 70,000 civilians slaughtered (mostly in the countrysides), and general absolute chaos. My friend who took me, who is only 2 years older than me, talked to me about growing up with power outages, riots, and bombings very near to his home. It´s crazy to me that this happend in my lifetime when I was having the normal childhood--being a girlscout, playing kickball out in the streets until after dark, and walking to and from school safely. Of course, the same madness is still happening elsewhere in the world right now--in Gaza, in the West Bank, in Sudan, Iraq, Jordan, etc, etc, etc--as we sleep safetly under egyptian cotton sheets and our little ones enjoy waking up for a guaranteed 3 meals a day. We talked too about how the worst part of war isn´t necessarily over when the truces are called... the terror continues for generations, as children grow up parentless and traumatized by what they experienced. He talked to me about how in Ayacucho, where most of the slauterings occured, the children who were affected (seeing their families being killed before them and their houses burned) are now having children of their own and they don´t take care of them, because they don´t know how, as they were abandoned themselves. And another generation is broken.

It gives you another perspective on the people and their behaviors and habits. It´s easy to use your gut reaction based on your own experiences and background to slap a label on a culture--saying it´s dramatic or flamboyant, untrusting, macho, close-minded, or even something as simple as family-centered, but it totally underscores their experience, and lacks the understanding of how it came to be this way. Understanding some more of the backround, it´s easier to dismantle initial reactions and see the life through a different (less American) lense. People aren´t ¨dependent¨ because they live at home until they get married...they have a close and very strong connection with their (entire) families, perhaps because after having so many families ripped apart by external violence, they don´t feel the need to claim the independence we value so much. And maybe the men aren´t overbearing and dominant (as I´ll admit, it feels to me because of our high importance in individualism and gender equality), perhaps they are legitimally concerned about women´s safety--and rightfully so here! Oh, I could go on. And we´re only talking recent history, let´s not even get started with colonialism and external wars and slavery and ETC..

On a lighter note, right now I am having the thoroughly hilarious experience of sitting in an internet cafe with a bunch of school boys playing some sort of computer game. I am the only computer in fact not playing it. They are screaming at each other, clapping, jumping up, and generally being a kind of rowdy that would not be permitted in an American business. haha, oh geeeze.

Other thoughts on Lima:

My diet here is terrible. The meal schedule is much different and involves much more refined foods than I am used to eating. For the last four days, my diet has been about like this: cebada (a tea made from barley) and crackers for breakfast. Lunch around 2pm, which is likely to be potatoes of some kind and/or noodles and chicken, or a meat stuffed buttery empenada (I have given in, and am now consuming whatever sort of protein I can get), and some kind of pop, usually Inka Cola (a bubble gum tasting electric yellow soda). Dinner is around 8pm and is eggs or chicken and cookies, and some other kind of sweet drink. People do not generally drink water here, it`s pop or coffee or a juice likely to be made from a powder. If you are lucky, you get a refresco, made of super watered down fruit juice. And there are all sorts of starchy sweet things to be snacking on in between meals. Ick, sugar headache.

Another thing I have had to get over (still working on it), is being cold (a big change from Iquitos). As Americans we are generally used to having our body temperatures regulated for us, with heat and airconditioning, enclosed homes, and hot water...but here homes are open to the elements, hot water is more like `not absolutely freezing` water, and it`s all about layering. This morning I woke up at 7 and was so cold I found myself tensed into a little ball for over an hour before I coaxed myself out of bed in a foul mood. I braved a shower since yesterday I went without, too afraid of the cold water and the hour or more following of freezing with wet hair. But like many things here, it`s something you just have to let go of. In Iquitos and the jungle it was all about letting go of feeling dirty. Here it`s about letting go of being cold...trying not to hold on to the discomfort, and letting it just pass through you. It`s hard to get your mind outside of your body and ignore its demands to maintain its accostumed level of equilibrium, but again, it just takes some focus, and understanding that other people seem to be doing it just fine...And so the theme of this trip continues: just breathe, and go...

on with it

As those of you who have lived and traveled in Latin America know, it´s not exactly known for its efficiency...as such, I have had an interesting time trying to get this blog out...after returning from the jungle several days ago, I was updating, and the power for the entire block went out. This appreared to not fluster anyone else in the internet cafe, who presumably lost all their work too...this is just the way of things here. It´s nice in a way to not have too much of an attachment to an outcome, and to free yourself from the perpetual need to be making progress...in your work, in your day, whatever, but it´s not easy for a purpose-driven, fairly anal-retentive Gringa. But that´s precisely why traveling is great...it removes you from your comfort zone and makes you see value in other sorts of lifestyles and ¨purposes¨ and concepts of time and space...I´ll be damned if it doesn´t take an entire day to buy a bus ticket or complete one seemingly simple task like go to the bank or prepare a meal though....oh the steps that are simplified in our stream-lined culture. And if you just want the quick update of where I am now (you Gringo, you), I am in Lima...I thought I´d be in Cajamarca by now, but you know how it is...I had to spend 2 plus days literally just hanging out...leaving the house only to take a 3 hour lunch. And unfortunatley, I´m not yet accustomed to the long post-lunch siesta, so I spend even more time just hanging around, waiting for my host to awaken (I am couch-surfing...see couchsurfing.com if you´re in the dark about this fabulous form of cultural exchange-free place to stay).

It´s all about finding a sort of order in what may seem like reckless disarray. As such, I present you with several journal entries with some degree of meanderig...

18.08.08: I´m back from the jungle....and I feel like I didn´t make it clear exactly...at least not to myself, I sometimes forget exactly what´s really going on....I was in the AMAZON RAINFOREST. As in the place that crappy theme restaurants are based on, and fabulous movies like Fern Gully and The Jungle book reminise of.... Ok, I just have to ground myself in reality sometimes.
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14.08.08:
Ahh the jungle. Neat 12 hour days. No electricity. You have no choice really but to retire at 8:30pm, and wake up with the sun. It´s a nice feeling to allow your body to syncronize with nature. And hot water? Who needs it when it´s approximately a million degrees outside with 100% humidity. I´d rather swim in the river anyway. Just when you think your body can´t take the heat anymore, that you´re going to dissovle into a puddle and evaporate (if only that were possible with the humidity...nothing dries here), a dip in the Tahuayo river, a tributary to the Amazon, refreshes your entire being. And around the dock, oh my gosh, there are about 45 butterflies, sometimes it looks like a thousand, and they are flourescently colored--pink, green, and yellow--flying madly and creating a visual something like a tornado...then stopping in the river bank to suck up the salt. I didn´t believe my eyes the first time I saw it. It only became real perhaps when one landed right on my chest and searched around with its snout, appearing to look for my heart beat. I stood there and watched it for several moments before it flew off.

Coming here, we saw several pink river dolphins. The males are bright pink on the top, and the females are more grey. Like birds and many other animals, the males are more colorful to attract their mates, and the women blend in more to protect the species (since women are more important of course). It´s said that the males take human shape and take human lovers...so if a woman unexpectantly becomes pregant, it´s said that she must be impregnated by a pink dolphin. I might have to use that one... however pink dolphins also tend to be the cause of birth defects.
We also saw a sloth, being pretty sloth, up in a tree. And oh my the birds...Apparently in Peru there are more birds per square (insert small amount of) area than in all of Europe together, or something like that... All I know is there´s a lot, and they are beautiful.

15.08.08: 740am-ish:
Lounging in a hammock, receiving a full body embrace that actually suspends you mid-air. Swaying back and forth ever so slightly, you get the feeling that maybe the earth is cradling you in her vast arms and allowing you to feel her axial revolution... slow down and notice the buzz of life all around...

16.08.08
It´s challenging for an American to live in the jungle, aside from the obvious lack of luxuries, you know, like potable water. The days are so hot that a siesta is basically required, and once the sun goes down at 6, that´s it! You´re ¨work¨ is done. And it´s quite clear, that you are not in charge. Not only does mother nature hold the ultimate trump card with all the animals, and plants, hungry insects, and rain, and whatever else the jungle wants to throw at you, but you also realize that the knowledge you´ve acquired over the last 20-60 years is completely worthless here. You don´t know anything about surviving. You are totally dependent. Whew, that´s uncomfortable for us, isn´t it?? It´s a good exercise in letting go of control and letting yourself just be a part of it. It´s a facade anyway that you can really be in control...much less exhausting to just give in to nature.

17.08.08
Everything is wet here. I hung clothes out to dry two days ago, and they might actually be more damp then before...I suspect mold is growing in everything here.
I haven´t changed my clothes or showered...There´s really no point. And in fact, it´s nice not to worry about what to wear, I go to sleep and wake up and go. Maintaining such a high level of sterility sure is exhausting... (that being said, I can´t wait to give myself a good scrub, pluck my eyebrows and clip my toenails--both of which are growing like crazy here! If I stayed any longer I´d be like that lady with the 9 foot long curly fingernails...but even scarier, with a unibrow).

Today we went to Tierra firma, which is the land that doesnt flood during the wet season. One word is all you need: THICK. It´s just fat with life. Layers upon layers upon layers. It´s impossible to be a bystander--walking through, you become part of the jungle--you find yourself mid-shin in mud, and your body becomes tangled into the intricate world of spiders´webs, leaves, flies, mosquitoes, giant ants, and an other host of unidentifiable critters that stick to your sunscreened (and bug sprayed) skin and become nestled into your clothes and hair.
We saw a red poisonous frog about the size of a quarter, as well as a fantastic flourescent pink and orange fuzzy catterpillar. I can only image what sort of magnificient creature he will become. I just love how obvious life is here...present in all forms, along all stages of the cycle.

Here I am continually reminded of 2 Buddhist films (whose names I´m not certain of):
1. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring
2. Woman of the Dunes
As well as the story of the American lawyer and the Mexican fisherman
Sorry, for failing to elaborate...if someone knows the story, share it in the comments section, would you... :)

Ok, I have much more, and I´d like to write about Lima and Iquitos...but for now, I think we´ll call it good. I missed the siesta today, and it´s way past bedtime.

mmmm, fond thoughts of all of you, and piles of kisses,
love, Rachel


Also, here is the link for that video about Belen and our work, en Espanol: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOMuVBFsAOk

As always feel free to take small bites...

Wow. My fabulous adventure as a humanitarian clown has formally come to an end (for now). I am really going to miss my fellow clowns, who are by nature, a bunch of open minded, intelligent, passionate, revolution-fighting, and instantly intimate friends. I will be in hug/kiss/backrug withdrawl come the weekend. I feel like I am not quite ready to express my experience except for to say that I am thankful for the reminder that: In our daily lives, we have this sort of silly logic that says in order to progress and make our lives better, we have to do things for ourselves and be selfish, but in fact, by doing things for others and sharing love and connecting with others on a more horizontal plane, or lives actually better and further exponentially... Es la verdad.

Tomorrow I am off to the jungle for 4 days (too short in my opinion). Originally I thought where I was headed was 2 hours into the jungle (or ¨selva¨) by boat, but I am happy to report that it is actually 4 hours into the jungle from Iquitos, and I´ve also learned that the trekking group I am going with has been written up in Outdoor magazine as the best Amazon adventure group. I had been a little afraid of ending up with a Disneyland experience (unauthentic) like some of my peers experienced in Brazil during Semester at Sea, however I was lucky to avoid. So, YES! I am so excited! I am going to be taking some jungle survival courses and meeting with a midwife, shaman, and herbalist! ! !

Things I love about Iquitos:
• Purple corn
• Different cumbia, salsa, and regatone music with every store front I pass
• Piles of heart of palm ribbons in salads
• Popsicles and ice cream at least once a day
• Potatoes at every meal (the national food of Peru)
• No high fructose corn syrup, so soda seems less evil
• Kaliente and Explosion—the two cumbia/salsa bands from here that feature back up dancers who wear g-strings and sparkly mid-drifts
• I receive at least 2.5 dozen hugs and kisses a day (Though clowning-related more than Iquitos-related)
• Abundant friends who want to practice English, and as a result- abundant bracelets and other random gifts, for example, one guy wanted to braid my hair with colorful string and beads for almost 2 hours so he could talk to me in English…and oh how he liked to tell me: ¨I love you so much…¨ yikes
• Women openly breastfeeding in the streets and restaurants (get with it America!)
• Beautiful pregnant women…though actually I´m a little unnerved by how many there are…where will all these babies go??
• Food surprises! In more than one way…but literally they love to wrap things up in things in things, for instance chicken on the bone wrapped up with olives (pits in tact) in a ball of rice wrapped up in a banana (or some other green) leaf
• Endless street food…and I´m notoriously fearless (thank God for probiotics)
• You can buy literally anything on the streets…from undies that say ¨stripper,¨ to DVDs and CDs unreleased in the US, knock-off soccer shoes, bath and body products, porn, traditional medicine, moon shine, fresh (still squirming) fish and meat, fresh (like literally on the branch fresh) fruit and veggies, cell phones, household products, backpacks, spices, handicrafts, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc
• They love the carbs…rice, potatoes, and some kind of banana or plaintain with all meals…if you´re lucky yucca and/or pasta too
• Being able to buy a single pill from the pharmacy
• Ceviche
• Chips made from sweet bananas, plaintains, yucca, and yams
• Crazy and abundant jungle fruits and juices…mmmmm maracuya, camu camu, guanabana, cocona, coca, and many many others whose names escape me
• Avocados and lime juice

Other notes:
• I ate a cocoon, which was still squirming as the lady at the market skewered it and stuck it on the grill.
• I am unable to get youtube to work on these crazy stupid slow computers, but I am told that PAHO (the Pan American health organization, a branch of the WHO) will be putting up a video of our project on youtube, which you can search by typing in PAHOPIN. It should have been put up this week. And by the way, how cool is it that our work is being endorsed by the WHO and huge Latin American organizations?
• I´m really starting to embrace sweating.
• The following photo links may or may not work…but there are pictures that people have posted on facebook, if you care to attempt to view: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47249&id=603426244 (Wendy Ramos´s facebook photos)
• http://www.facebook.com/photos.php?id=691060222 (Rachel Sandler´s facebook photos)

Things I don´t like about Iquitos:
• Air pollution
• Kids selling stuff on the streets at 11pm…and let´s not even talk about the fact that there are 200 + child prostitutes in Iquitos
• Street kids asking for your food at restaurants
• Lack of trashcans and the resultant nasty streets
• Seeing women get manhandled on the streets
• I´d like to say that in a way it´s interesting to see dogs humping on the streets…it´s actually an uncommon sight, at least where I live…the first time I saw it here, I was like, Oh yeah! That´s how it happens! We never see that in the US since most of the animals get neutered, oh yeah! Nature!….however the resultant number of strays and abundant dog shit on the sidewalks, places this comment in the ¨things I don´t enjoy¨ section


thank you, thank you, thank you,
for your love and interest in my adventures...I have so much more I´d love to write, but as you might guess, I don´t want to spend too much of my day in a hot internet cafe with a circa 1994 PC at crazy slow internet speeds....especially when I can be fighting off cat-calls from moto-taxistas and jumping over potholes in the streets whilst juggling ice cream cones :)

heaps of hugs and kisses,
Rachel

http://www.livinginperu.com/blogs/features/543

squeek

I don´t know how to make this more brief, without just bullet-pointing…I could talk for hours, and well, I´ve got living and sweating to do here in Iquitos! Oh my god, it´s hot… One of Rachel S and my favorite things to say is from Guns and Roses´ Welcome to the Jungle….¨You´re gonna die!¨ Yeah…read on.
I´ve felt pretty dirty in my life, but this could perhaps be the dirtiest I´ve felt. It´s interesting how at first it stresses you out having paint, and dirt, and kid germs, (different from US kid germs I might add…these kids have parasites and have been itching their buttholes), and bug spray, and sunblock, and so much sweat, monkey saliva (yeah I got bitten by a monkey, but it was in a preserve and apparently they have been vaccinated), and stray dog, and dirt, and most likely sewage…all over…but then you sort of settle into it, get used to it, and it´s ok. You see kids in torn and dirty clothes, walking around barefoot, playing soccer with a ball that just bounced into the puddle of god knows what, and you have to think, it´ll probably be just fine. And truely I haven´t gotten sick until today. And today, I don´t think it´s sick so much as an allergic reaction. I ate fish yesterday, which I suspect to be the culprit, and now have a bright red rash covering my arms and legs. Benadryl has helped though…so yes, I´m dirty and smelly and red.
Today I had the opportunity to walk around by myself and enjoy the little intricacies of the town. I was left on accident when the group went clowning and I had run upstairs to grab the Benadryl, so I instead decided to venture out and take in Iquitos with a different perspective—you certainly see more when you´re sola. The town is mad with people. There´s humanity seeping out of every corner and block and within every interaction. Babies holding babies, people sharing cigarettes and snacks, people selling everything you can imagine, people everywhere….it´s like the farmer´s market on crack, but with a million motorcycles and moto-taxis (kind of like rickshaws but less enclosed), much more noise, and it goes on for miles.

Belen: A district of Iquitos: this is where we are doing the community work. It´s one of the most impoverished towns I have ever seen (mind you I´ve also been to India, but I have to say it´s worse off than towns I´ve seen in Kenya, South Africa, and Venezuela). The houses literally have nothing in them. They are just stilted platforms with a few hammocks for sleeping. That´s about it. The streets are more like muddy/raw sewage-y paths, which become canals during the rainy seasons, and are positively littered with junk. You are constantly looking down to avoid stepping in fish bones, poop, broken plastic objects, fruit rinds, etc. There are 70,000 inhabitants, 40% of whom are children (wow wow wow!). They have problems with domestic violence, street violence, prostitution—adult and children, and HIV (the rate is 45%!). And as a result of AIDS there are many orphaned street kids, who in turn take up prostitution, get HIV and become pregnant and the cycle continues exponentially…

Clowning: Each day we visit different hospitals, shelters, prisons, or other sorts of places lacking in cheer. Adorned with red noses, fake hair, crazy hats, sparkles, stickers, tutus, tights, silly shoes, rubber chickens, stuffed animals, and a slew of other nutty paraphanelia, we take over these places. Unfortunately I have only gotten to go once, to a hospital. It made me appreciate the often freezing hospitals in the US—hot hospitals seem even more disgusting than they are (Even though our super sterile and cold hospitals probably harbor superbugs that could eat the germs in these hospitals alive.)
Clowning is not only a means of making people smile and bringing them momentary cheer, but a social change force. We are building friendships and working to nurture the community by painting houses, teaching workshops to empower the people and improve their lives in sustainable ways, eg teaching girls about how to stick up for themselves when their dad or uncle wants to touch them, and teaching non-violence to boys. Clowns are different from other volunteer workers—they inspire change within individuals to help themselves and their community, while having fun. The clowns also have developed a group of young boys and girls who are community leaders, who act as positive role models and points of strength in the community the other 50 weeks of the year when we are not here (often I feel groups come to impoverished areas and pat themselves on the back for doing some, albeit good, work for a week or two and then leave, and the community more or less remians the same…I do not feel this is true in this case). The clowns are under strict rules to not give anything but friendship, hugs, and love to the people. It´s hard because people are always asking us for our left-overs from dinner or begging for money on the streets, but it is our commitment (at least for this trip), to forgo handouts (which only help in the short-run), and instead offer hugs or play a game with them. Our role as clowns is as a friend. It´s really interesting, and we´ve had a lot of feedback from the community leaders about our positive impact.
The house painting brings cheer to the neighborhoods, and involves people in their community. Kids are estatic about it, which is great because not only are they having fun, but they are getting an early sense of working and helping their families and neighbors. The workshops too are fabulous. I know one of the classes was teaching women to turn all the thousands of discarded plactic bags and bottles into useful household objects or things. I am teaching a dance class for 8-14 year olds, which I suppose is more for fun than anything, but we are putting on a show at the end of the week, which I think will be really great for them to have the opportunity to show off to their families.

Other notes…before my brain melts and I collapse in a sweaty red and dirty puddle:
Pat: I hugged a few little ones, with you in mind
Salsero/as: I went salsa dancing here, and it´s much different….mostly they dance apart from each other, so not all the turns and dips and patterns, etc. I definitely missed dancing with you all. That´s all I´ve got for now…I´m waiting to go dancing in the big city of Lima!
Buddy: Happy Birthday!!!

I´m thinking of you all!

Love, Rachel

And PS…if this made you think I don´t feel safe, or that I am really ill, or sad, or anything, that´s not true. I am doing quite well. Thanks for your lovin!