Hola desde el EEUU

We’re back in the states! Sorry it’s been so long since we’ve posted anything. I hope you’re still enjoying some of our stories and photos from our past adventures. We’ve retired our backpacks for a while and are trying to establish ourselves in our new home. With new work and school, we’ve found it challenging to keep up with our blog but we definitely don’t want to close it down. So we won’t! We’ll post new photos and stories occasionally from now on, but it won’t stand up to our involvement while abroad in S. America.

We had such an amazing trip down south and are so grateful for all the love and support given to us by friends and family. Many people said it was fun to follow along our journey while we lived it and we’re so happy we had the opportunity to share it (how cool is blogging!?) Anyway, hope all is well with you, wherever you are in the world.

Muchisimo gracias a todo! xxoo

Easter in Iguazu

36 hours ridding in a bus for six hours of sightseeing doesn’t really seem to add up, does it? How about it’s also Easter Weekend and the place your visiting happens to be one of the most sought after spots for the holidays. Now it really doesn’t add up. Well it might make a little more sense knowing that the ever so hard-earned destination is Iguazu Falls.

With over 250 individual waterfalls, Iguazu Falls National Park divides the Iguazu river between it’s upper and lower regions. Channeling out massive amounts of Amazonian Rainforest water, this huge river splits Argentina from its Brazilian neighbor to the north. What makes these falls so impressive is the sheer width and surface area they cover, in comparison to say the taller yet more slender Niagara Falls. The Falls themselves only make up half the charm of the national park. Unlike Niagara Falls’ location (between Buffalo and Toronto), Iguazu Park is situated in an incredibly beautiful and isolated natural setting. With lush jungle surrounding the walkways and more butterflies flying through the air than one has ever seen, the Park itself is just as fantastic as the waterfalls.

High Afternoon at the Zoo

It’s been over a month now, and our shift from Peru to Buenos Aires is starting to feel complete. In our short amount of time since arriving in the Porteño capital, we’ve undergone some major lifestyle changes. We no longer spit on the floor, kill our meals or use a hole in backyard as a restroom (Carly is yet to truly grasp this last one). We’ve catapulted our lives across the continent into entirely new and different existences.

However, the more I try and force myself to recap the ups and downs of the last 2 ½ months, the more I feel myself avoiding the urge to produce some list of observations. Instead of going on and on, I’ve chosen to do what comes easiest. I’m going to, as an alternative, talk about what we did last weekend.

Carly and I rose at an average time for a Sunday here in Buenos Aires…1pm. This is somewhat better understood when one learns that, as with all events on Saturday evenings, the night prior we hadn’t gone out until 2am. In fact when we arrived to see the popular Zizek DJ Group at Club Niceto somewhere just before 2, we were so early that we had to wait out on the sidewalk with the rest of the pre-partiers for the club’s doors to open.

So we woke up at the fresh morning hour of 1pm. Not wanting to waste any piece of such a gorgeous day we quickly threw on our shorts and headed off to the zoo. Lucky for us, as young-residents of Buenos Aires’ hippest barrio, Palermo SOHO, fun attractions such as the zoos and parks are only steps from our front door.

Upon arrival, we paid the zoo’s admission fee and joined the heavy throngs of weekend families. Not long after entering the chaos, somewhere just around where zoo photographers try and sell you photos of yourself, we came across a both selling alimentación de animales, or animal feed. ‘Cute’ we thought, ‘must mean they’ve got one of those petting zoos with goats somewhere nearby.’

Moments later, we had quite the surprise when coming around a corner our eyes landed on an enormous brown bear. In addition to being massive, the bear was pacing furiously back and forth in his semi-enclosed grotto. Soon after our arrival, the bear, which was only separated by 10ft. of poorly engineered ravine, demonstrated his agitation by standing on his rear haunches and letting out a monstrous roar. My own girlish-screams were only drowned out by the hysterical balling of the five year old who was now curled up in a ball next to me. As the crowd gathered to gawk at the ferocious animal, my thoughts drifted to a well publicized mauling which took place in San Francisco.

Several years ago, Tatiana the Tiger escaped her own specially constructed grotto to exact revenge on several boys about my own age. That mauling had been the result of Tatina’s provocation, as the young boys had actually thrown objects at the caged tiger. But what could be causing this colossal bear’s similar reactions?

“Oh look a group of young men, not far from my age hurling projectiles into the cage.”

“No, stop, you idiots the bear is pissed and soon to call upon some adrenaline-filled super-strength and jump out of that pit and kill us all!”

Truthfully, Carly was the one on the verge of telling them what “hijos de perras” they were being (she’s surprisingly far more comfortable with confrontation than I), when we made a keen discovery. Turns out this group of tontos was plucking their artillery from a bucket of alimentación de animales.

We’d been wrong about the feed. It was not, as it turns out, cute grain pellets intended for curious goats and sheep, but in fact industrial buckets of hockey puck sized wafers. After some inquiry, we learned that the source of this bears rage was simply a park-sanctified morsel. Not only were this group of assailants not in the wrong, but for 10 Pesos we discovered we too could chuck pellet-pucks at bears or any other animal in the zoo’s facilities. As we left the odd scene at the bear grotto behind, we walked further into the grounds only to witness buffalos, giraffes and crocodiles all targeted by pellet-pucks.

What’s worse is that the carts which sold alimentación de animals were all positioned confusingly close the rest of the park’s venders. This meant for those zoo goers too young to grasp the puck-feed concept (of which I am one), the products sold in other carts seemed an only likely substitute for the costly bucket-o-pucks. Everywhere we went 12 year olds hurled half-eaten hot dogs at zebras, and 10 year olds poured buckets of popcorn on the backs of tortoises. I suppose I can’t really blame them, as the concept of a one size feeds all hockey puck, for every animal in the zoo is just as confusing to me.

Either way, Carly and I eventually left the zoo, choosing to bypass the frantic booth where they proudly displayed printed copies of the portraits they’d taken of us two hours earlier when we’d entered. Though we only saw two people buying their portraits, I suppose it’s worth it to print five copies of every guest who enters the park assuming that they will purchase them on the way out.

So that’s my Buenos Aires update. I think that one experience best summarizes the City and what we’ve been up to since arriving here. Everywhere we go things continue to amuse us and turns out Buenos Aires is no different.

Abrazos y besitos to all of our friends and family, and thanks for reading!

Wild Park Nutria

Good Morning Buenos Aires

I just finished eating my breakfast on the balcony of our apartment. Curtis says today is going to be 87 degrees F. I feel the heat, but am protected by the shade from Los Palos Barrachos (The Drunken Wood- the local Argentine trees that sway back and forth in front of our new home).

I’m staring out into their skinny and curly tree branches and thin leaves and find a pair of doves cleaning each other, a few butterflies  and many zooming dragonflies.  From our balcony it almost seems that we’re not in a city of 13 million. Then I’m reminded of the life below–a baby crying, a man yelling, bus doors opening, a dog barking and lots of cars. But if you can concentrate hard enough, you might not ever realize they’re down there.

From our balcony, all is calm. Good morning Buenos Aires.

You Never Know Until You Ask

Sometimes you never know until you ask. I´ve come to learn that this holds particularly true in San Francisco, Peru. We often joke that in SF one must learn to battle not only boundaries that exist for newbie gringos in an unfamiliar country, but also challenges for those unfamiliar with living in ¨the country¨. The vast majority of SF residents have been living side by side with the same friends and family their entire lives. That is to say they are familiar, or as they are so fond of phrasing ¨accustomed¨, to certain faces and ways. One of the things they certainly are not accustomed to (even after six months) is coming right out and telling the young goofy-gringos just what is on their minds.

 

For this reason, it is important to remember that extending a little extra effort in order to encourage folks to share themselves is necessary. We learned this lesson in a major way during our last week in San Francisco.

 

We decided to wrap up our final week conducting a series of interviews and questionnaires with both our students and their families. This time was used to not only get feedback, but to also fill in both parties about the exciting next steps to come from MEJOR. This was our first chance to share that our trash collection program had been approved and would begin sometime in the next few months–the students and community were thrilled! We also informed people about the new group of volunteers who would be arriving to resume both classes and projects once the rains ceased. This news was met with such enthusiasm that several families went as far as to offer up housing for the new group once they arrived. Learning that MEJOR was willing to stay committed and follow through on their promise of investing in a project, really put a smile on everyone´s faces. 

Rudy is a shining example of why teachers DO have favorites

 

The most rewarding part of our final student/parent visits came from the feedback we received. I´ll be honest, up until our final week, I had some mixed feelings as to the overall impact of our six months of work. These feelings were partially the result of my own insecurities, but mostly because we´d never really taken the time to ask anyone what they thought of the work we´d done. Amongst tests, gardens, trash collections, community meetings, workshops and everything else, I´d forgotten one of the most important things… to ask for feedback. And trust me, in this type of situation, a little arm-twisting is necessary if one wants feedback.

 

Once we asked, we were shocked. Every single parent reported that they had been speaking to their kids regularly about classes. As a result, each household was now washing their hands regularly, many reported drinking more water (much of which was now boiled), mothers were now striving to provide their children more balanced meals, and each parent reported proudly that their child had become more confident in the community. Anecdotaly, the youth’s surveys proved even more insightful. Classes we thought held little interest turned out to be favorites. Kids who originally interpreted our classes unenthusiastically were now requesting new project responsibilities for the future.

 

The general sentiment from the student/parent feedback (again, once we asked for it) was pure excitement for what had been acheived and for what is still to come. Valerie, Carly and I were touched by the outpouring of warm thanks. Throughout our entire experience we have felt appreciated by both our class and community, but it wasn´t until our final week that we felt truly accomplished as well.

 

Our last day and night were spent hosting a graduation ceremony and farewell party. As each student received his or her diploma, I felt a sense of pride wash over me. I am proud of this charismatic group of students, who chose to participate in something so radically different than what they have always known. I am proud of the community of San Francisco for being so open-minded as to welcome three strangers with open homes and hearts. And I am proud of MEJOR, Carly, Valerie and myself for having achieved so much.

 

Thank you San Francisco, MEJOR, family, friends, my fellow volunteers and everyone who has contributed to this marvelous experience. 

“If you’re going to San Francisco…”

The exchange rate in San Francisco, Peru is very good. In fact, it’s great! People are constantly sharing food, things, family members, you name it. And when it comes to currency, it’s even better!

All in all, our lives in rural Peru have been more than good to us. Now lets not sugar coat things–it’s been the most challenging four months to date, but I learned a lot about myself (everyone says this kinda stuff but it’s true), Peruvian culture and rural culture since living in this little pueblo. I learned how to weave on a backstrap loom, kill a pig, speak some Spanish, improvise like a champ, make gourmet meals out of randomness…

Saying good-bye to Carmen, Leo, Johnnie and Brayan was the hardest part of my last week. We’re actually, thankfully, meeting up with them again in Piura for Christmas with Curtis’ parents. Saying my farewells to my mud hut, all the animals and the beautiful community was suprisingly hard. I only really know how to say good-bye with one word (adios), but along with lots of hugs it sufficed.

The crazy thing, as I try to actualize this whole experience, is when I’m in other cities in the world, doing other random things with myself, Carmen and her family will be in the same place, rural Peru, taking a moment out of their day to kill palomitas (pigeons) with rocks ‘for their rich meat’ or to take Tico the donkey to the platano (plantain) fields.

This trip has emphasized, more than ever, that time is nothing but a concept we play into as organized societies looking to place people and events. But if you remove yourself from ”real time” for a minute or for months and join a place that has different rules, you’ll slow down and think a lot more than usual (maybe too much even) and start paying more attention to the people and environment around you (it’s a good thing but kinda scary sometimes).

Maybe in that slow time you’ll even reflect and remember all the people that have touched you (both literally and figuratively). Like that very soft and round woman you chatted it up with on the bus and then slept on like a baby for a few hours, or the cute girl that showed you how to get back home by referencing pigs, or the good family man who can grow a great garden, or the woman who treated you like her family for no other reason than she believed in you and ‘had a good feeling about you’.

Daisy Petunia Piglet

I will miss parts of San Francisco very much (others–no way!). But all in all, I’m ready to move forward and on to the next thing. Buenos Aires, Argentina here we come!!! Curtis and I aren’t exactly sure what we’re going to do there, but that’s the fun of it. Gaurunteed we’ll laugh a lot. We head out of Peru mid-January, so you should come visit! We’d love to have you (who ever you are).

And in the mean time, during those little quiet moments you get to yourself, slow down and reflect and remember all those that have touched you in life (this time not literally) and send them some love (I know it’s kinda corny but seriously, there’s some great people out there!). xoxox

Malu

Diana

San Francisco´s 10 Most Schocking Moments!

In keeping with the quick and friendly nature of the blog world, I’ve decided that there is no better way to relay a few of our experiences to date than with a top 10 list of our most memorable shocking moments. Of course, as you all know, we have been spending a lot of time working hard with our youth class and exchanging culturally within our community. But what fun would it be to always ramble on about our ¨genuine¨ times, when Carly and I really know that folks are more interested in the details of how we have tortured ourselves over the last few months. Instead of going on about accomplishments and perspectives, I thought we could all recap the last few months with a few good laughs…Enjoy.

1. Opening our bedroom door the first day to find a still-twitching-cow being bled-out and butchered on our front steps
2. Our surprise when we discovered that our in-country liaison had, while we were present (yet then unable to understand the Spanish), gone ahead and promised every member of our community that in no time we would be purchasing them all brand new fully functional toilets
3. The joy of discovering that our bedroom came fully furnished with two beds, a table and scorpions
4. The realization that when a group of Peruvians invite you for a drink, they assume you will be sharing their same cup and are insistent that you stay for longer than just one
5. Our surprise when we learned that the little chicks running around our yard enjoy eating fresh garden seedlings almost as much as we enjoy sweating for the weeks necessary to plant them
6. Experiencing ¨hands-on,¨ that when you offer to help the family prepare for the weekend fiesta, this means pinning down a 500lb. squealing pig at 5:30am while your toothless friend drives a butcher’s knife into its throat
7. The great debate as to whether the welts which persisted for weeks all over Carly’s body were the result of bed bugs or chicken pox
8. Learning that the young boy with Tourette´s Syndrome in our town had, after hearing my name, without control begun to make ¨Currrr-tis¨ his new most overly used word
9. Finding out that our one refuge for privacy, our mud-hut bedroom, ceased to be so exclusive after a family of bats took it upon themselves to begin sharing the space
10. Getting introduced to the roaming (several thousand strong and slightly plague-like) army of ants whose daily voyage often puts them on a course to “pass through” whomever’s home is in their way
    

    Roasting the Family Pig

Making Something Out of Nothing

What are my options? I sit and stare…

-some shallots

-1 egg

-a couple carrots

-flour (with worms in it)

-garlic

-potatoes

-oil

-and herbs (we don´t actually know which herbs they are but we think the South American tree seed achiote, cumin and possibly orégano. We could always use the packages of monosodium glutamate or MSG that we can easily find in every Bodega here to savor the flavor, if we need a little something extra in our lives…)

Everything edible here is white or beige, or a color in between the two. A typical plate here consists of white rice, fried plantains or yuca and if you live in a family that owns cows, cheese. Now don´t get me wrong, these are all very tasty things, but they are colorless options that offer zero nutrition (minus maybe the animal protein and calcium from the cheese, although the cheese here does also include what Peruvians call Aceite de Chanco, which means Oil of Pig a.k.a. lard straight from the bucket used when slaughtering the pig). It´s all delicious, but solely comprised of fat and carbohydrates. If you´re lucky, you find a colorful vegetable available now and then. So the fact that I have a couple carrots, is a real luxury. Who knew the color orange or any other color for that fact would effect me so much? Yes, I went to art school, but this is a whole different kind of composition.  

Our bellies are always full, but they lack proper nutrition. There is no fiber in SF. Barely any calcium. No vitamins. And rarely is there animal protein. Again, my carrot is the healthiest thing you can get your hands on. It gets me thinking…do I want to be a Nutritionist? I´m becoming obsessed with food and diet and the intricacies that make up each daily digestible composition. Once I stop complaining, I find exciting challenges out of preparing meals here–a fun exercise in critical thinking and problem solving. For the first few weeks in SF I said, “I’m not inspired to be creative. I’m not making any art.” But then I flipped that coin I spoke of earlier and found the other, more shiny side, to be full of answers.  

Cooking is my creative outlet. Creating something out of nothing is my art. So I´ve been recording what I´ve been making for my records and/or maybe even to share. Possibly in the future I´ll make a little book/helpful pamphlet for those who can´t cook, even when they have something to work with (like Valerie, the other volunteer in SF says about herself). It can be a little reference guide for the volunteer living in the mountains like me, working with rice and yuca, nada mas. Or for those life-long campers/yer not sure if they´re homeless people or just incessant couch surfing-bohemian types and/or the new college student looking to survive for the first time without mommy´s meals.  

Thanks to my mama and her mama for teaching me great tips and tricks for the cocina. Without their guidance or herb and spice tests on the kitchen counter as a kid, I wouldn´t be so lucky.  

So, I learned how to make home-made flour tortillas from my host mother Carmen one day and revived the recipe to exclude Aceite de Chanco add olive oil instead. I steamed and then sautéed my beloved carrots and some potatoes with shallots, garlic and cumin, which I served on top of the tortillas at room temperature so it made a kind of ensalada thing. Paired with the crispy crunchy dough disks (more like tostadas), it became an India-inspired meal, served in rural Peru and devoured in minutes. It´s not my mom´s cooking, but it was good and I had fun.  

All the food offered and prepared in SF is delicious, it just lacks variety and health. I don´t want to sound ungrateful. The meals we´ve shared here with people have been incredible, mostly because they offered us a place in their home and an opportunity to exchange with them. I´m thrilled to be living and sharing with such a kind community that would never let anyone starve or find themselves without a place to sleep or a family to care for them.  

We hope that our work to bring SF a community vegetable garden becomes a sustainable project that can help the people in our pueblo more easily access nutritional and varietal foods.

So keep your eyes peeled, you might find a little kitchen reference book available someday or you might be having a conversation with a new Nutritionist. Or maybe you´ll just be reminiscing with me about some of the cool things I learned while living in a rural community village in Peru.

Coming Down the Mountain

Back in the big city. What a treat to come back and find so many comments by friends and family. We love that everyone has been able to stay in touch with us while we are here.

What an incredible past month. I remember years ago when Ana (our Argentinian foreign exchange student) lived with us, she had a hard time adjusting to her new life in Vermont. At the time I recall my dad telling me how he´d heard it takes around two months for the average human body and mind to adjust to an environment and begin to accept it as their new home. Indeed after a couple months Ana settled in, learned a little English and seemed to enjoy herself far more. I´d say though the mind might only need a two month timeline, the body which sleeps on a straw mattress in a bed 10¨ too short might sometimes need a couple more weeks to figure things out.

Really I shouldn´t complain. But for few aches and pains the past month has been great. Every day we feel closer to our host family and community. This settling in period has allowed us to not only build relationships but also better understand the surprisingly complicated Peruvian lifestyle. As we´ve readily learned, we are not only facing cultural and language barriers but those presented as a result of living in a rural community as well. Spending a little extra time up there forcing ourselves to get adjusted turned out to be the right decision. My Spanish has improved, Carly has found her new passion in weaving, we´ve made a ton of progress on our garden and the youth classes have really had time to progress.

We were able to finish the formal segment of our classes this past week. Because Valerie had arrived so much earlier than us, she was able to get more of a jump start on the classes than we´d predicted. All 14 of our Youth Health Promoters took their final exams this past Friday. This means that the first stage of the MEJOR project has come to an end. When we return we will start new series of classes with the kids, teaching skills related to leadership and project planning. The hope is to then prepare a MEJOR community project which we will implement with the help of the students. Ideas for projects have spanned from building toilets to formalizing a trash and sanitation program. Our idea is to get the kids thinking about making improvements and implementing projects within their own community. Besides the project classes we will also begin a series of adult classes. This will give us a chance to pass on to the parents some of the same health and well being information we´ve taught to their kids.

Thanks for all the love. Carly and I will be in the city for the next week, so check out our new photos and shoot us an email.

A lesson learned…everyday

I thought you learned the bulk of really tough life lessons when you are a pimple-faced and defiant 13 or 14 year old.  Maybe at 18 years or so you have some more big lessons waiting for you like the ones where you learn your parents really do know what’s going on. Your early twenties definitely offer up some valuable lessons about drinking, school, work (or the lack there of). And your early twenties are usually about when you learn the big hard lesson of how to deal with a broken heart or for the really unlucky, how to deal with death. And then here you are, all of twenty-four, living in rural Peru thinking you’re special and you’re back to learning a lesson every day—minus the pimples (add some bed bug bites instead).

 I don’t know what I thought it would be like. That’s a lie—I glamorized the whole thing. Bungalows, hammocks, fluency in Spanish, romantic sunsets…we live in a mud house with no electricity and more cockroaches than you’ve ever seen in one place at a time. We cook by fire, shower outside in see through bamboo and plastic tarp and are stared at 24/7 for being the minority.

 The first two weeks were exhausting. I’m writing this entry from the big city of Piura, Peru about six hours away from little San Francisco, where we’re living. I’m procrastinating at the moment in an attempt to squeeze in just a few more minutes with modern technology. We head out of town and back to SF tomorrow morning around 6 am concluding our time with modernity for about a month or so.

 I am actually excited to return to our little Peruvian village tucked away in the mountains. But before we head back, I’m ready to face some certain truths about myself and the space around me…I don’t really like the custom of being polite and always having to eat what’s served to you—cow brain is too chewy and slippery to fake it! I do like taking showers outside in the sun with huge green mountains watching you. Mosquito nets are amazing. Rural living can be exciting. Access to doctors and dentists, whether you pay a butt-load or not, is absolutely wonderful and something to cherish. Everyone deserves a toilet. And little things like puppies are the best, but their fleas are the worst.

 I’m ready to suck it up and embrace all. We live with the kindest family who shares so much with us. Carmen giggles all the time and is always offering us food, Leo is always interested even if he can’t understand you, Bryan helps us out with our muddled Spanish, the chicks are always chiming little chicky songs and the sun is always shinning. There are two sides to every coin. I guess this coin is just a little rougher than the ones I’ve flipped before.