Casa 1235

People have so many questions and I want to answer them all. It is so very difficult to explain the emotions and sensations I have this week; I never thought for a moment that I would struggle to re-assimilate to my life. I know people think it's crazy that I feel overwhelmed; believe me, I think the same thing.

So, in order to help me process this experience, to give you a taste of life in Peru, and to start telling my story, I've decided to choose a specific photo and then just let a story flow from there.



This is 1235, San Borja. This rooftop hallway was my penthouse. All the time I was in Lima, my mother could not understand how I lived on the roof.

The house where we lived was situated in a middle-class area, close to highways. Like all houses in this area, it was gated with electric security around the roof lines.
The house had 3 floors. The first floor included the kitchen, living and dining area, courtyard, and small bedroom. The second floor had 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The top floor was also the roof. It had 3 bedrooms and 2 very small bathrooms. This past week, there were 34 people living in the house.

Lima has a moderate climate year round. Most houses do have some living quarters on the roof, whether a house has a terrace and chairs, or it has bedrooms, or it is just a concrete slab and clothes are hung to dry. To get to my room, I had to walk out onto the roof under the stars (well, maybe not stars so much, since the city is in a continuous smog-induced cloud cover). My actual room had walls, a roof, and door, so it looked like any other bedroom. The windows are left open at all times, so it did feel a bit like camping. Each morning, my toes were awakened by the puddle of water collecting at the threshold of the door. It normally mists all night (and throughout the day), so the water would run off the roof and puddle in the morning. The housekeeper would push a wool blanket around with a broom to sop up the water every day.


We had two very small bathrooms. There was a space above the door that was open to the outside. We quickly learned the trick to hot water was to barely turn the knob on. Any water pressure was sacrificed for a warm shower.

I remember laying in my top bunk, wide-eyed, the first night I arrived in Lima, thinking, "Oh my God. What was I thinking? What am I doing here? I'm sleeping on a roof for 3 weeks!" Now, I actually miss that roof. It seems odd to sit in a house with air conditioning and a fan. The air in Lima is definitely dirty and I did develop a slight cough, which went away each time I left Lima. But I feel like I had fresher air there than cooped up in an air-conditioned house.

So, yes, even though everyone here is dying in the heat, I'm actually loving being outside in the sun and warmth.

Culture Shock

I'm experiencing reverse culture shock.

I awoke this morning, and was overwhelmed by the sense that I was out-of-place. I was in a big bed with air conditioning and a fan blowing on me, and it was too quiet. My mind immediately jumped to: I should be getting dressed and loading up the vans to ride into Villa. I thought about the time and what I would be doing in Lima at that time. Throughout the day I have looked at the clock and thought about what I would be doing, or what everyone else was doing, in Lima.

My day has been in slow motion, and I find myself savoring each thing I do, finding pleasure in the simple tasks. I am having a hard time visiting with or talking to people today. I hope that it is just because I am tired, and because I was in such social situations for 3 weeks. It is not that I do not want to see people, rather it is just the thought of talking and being social zaps my energy. Today I enjoyed quiet time.

I ventured out to Trader Joes. I went during the day while it was low on people. But even standing in the aisle looking for certain products was overwhelming, too much choice. I finally understand what my friend Laetitia (from Paris) was talking about when she talked about our super stores and how confused she felt by just the drink choices.

My first sense of culture shock occurred yesterday while transferring terminals in Newark. The bus was full, and I had to hang on to a rail while standing in the middle of the bus (you all know of my un-gracefulness...I try to avoid potential accidents at all costs). As I stood there, balancing, I faced 3 seated men. They all looked at me, but no one offered me his seat. I wore a back pack, and sat a bag between my feet. None of them had a bag. In Lima, all three of them would have stood up and offered me a seat (they stuff their buses there). Granted, I would never ride a bus in Lima; they are worse than the death cabs. But, if I did ride the bus, they would offer the seat to a mother and child, or another woman. On the bus in Newark, all I could think was, "This is America."

Driving around today, I was struck by the beauty of the abundance of green, grass and trees. We have really big yards. I was also struck by all of the big cars and trucks.

Today was laundry day. As I put clothes away, I decided I had too many clothes. It was a sudden decision, and maybe a bit irrational. I felt like I packed light, but I did not wear half the clothes I took to Peru. I lived in layers, and many of us just wore the same things over and over. So as I stared at my drawers and closet, I began pulling things out and tossing them in a pile. I do not have any cute little abuelos and abuelas (grandpas and grandmas) who would love the extra layers, but maybe I can take the clothes to Crisis Assistance.

I know you are all waiting for photos and stories. I promise they are coming and appreciate your patience as I write in the current stream of thought.

Villa El Salvador

I tried using this photo as my background, but it was taken with my friend's iPhone and emailed to me. It is too small to stretch.

This is Villa El Salvador (pronounced Via El Sabador). This area stretches as far as the eye can see and up the mountains. During the winter, which is the current season, Lima is enveloped in a continuous fog from clouds and pollution.

This is where I worked every day.

Home

I returned home today safely. I left Lima last night and arrived in Charlotte just before noon. I have so much I want to write about in this blog, so many pictures and stories to share. It has to wait. I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. These past three weeks have been an unforgettable experience, and I'm just starting to process "que passe." For now, sleep.

Pescado and amigos

A student at Porter Ridge, Maria, is from Lima. Her family lives in North Carolina during the school year and returns to Lima during breaks. I finally caught up with her family tonight.

Maria and her mother picked me up this afternoon and toured me around Miraflores, a very nice area near the sea. We met her father at a restaurant there: Breuhuja de Cuchina (translation: Bewitching...). I have never eaten so much pescado (fish) and mariscos (seafood) in one sitting. The food kept arriving at the table: shrimp, cervieche (cold marinated fresh fish), octopus, crab, fish, and oysters. We drank Pisco Sours, the national beverage of choice. For my main meal, they ordered more fish, calamari, shrimp, and potatoes. For dessert, Maria ordered lucama sauce for me. It is a very sweet fruit mixed to the consistency of pudding, served over a very small chocolate brownie, with fresh and warm chocolate sauce. What amazing and warm friends. I feel so blessed that they have cared so well for me and treated me to a true Peruvian experience.

I really enjoyed speaking (half Spanish, half English) with Maria's parents. They had some very interesting ideas and observations about education, and were very curious about my experience in Villa. Maria's mother, Alicia, has been so hospitable and has offered to take me to the national museums tomorrow since I do not have school.

A night of great pescado and amigos. Muy bien!

Dia de las maestras

I really felt discouraged last night, as you can see from my last post. This morning, I had to set a positive intention for the day. Tomorrow is the Dia de las Maestras (Teacher's Day). My school celebrated it today. I quickly ran around during lonchera (snack) yesterday and traced each child's hand. I made a large card with all of the hands wishing Miss Luz a Happy Teacher's Day. I gave it to her today and she was very happy. In honor of the day, the school is taking tomorrow off of work. (They use any excuse for a day off.) Hmmm...a free day for Teacher Appreciation...there's an idea.

The school held a celebration. All of the parents were invited and the students learned dances to perform. So, of course, there was no instruction AT ALL today. Miss Luz spent the morning mopping the floor of the courtyard in preparation while I stayed with her class (she looked at me like I had horns growing out of my head when I asked if I could mop so she could teach). Imagine. The volunteer volunteering to mop so the teacher can do her job!

The actual celebration was fantastic and I cannot wait to share pictures! The teachers invited me to sit on stage and introduced me as a teacher from the United States. We all wore special nametags, and a parent gave us flowers. Each class had students who dressed up and performed for the teachers. Parents came early and were cleaning chicken in the bathroom sink to cook a special lunch for everyone. All of the children dressed up. The children in my room dressed in traditional Quechua/Peruvian dress: colorful dresses, vests, wraps, and hats. It was very beautiful.

Although I struggle with the state of education, I must say they know how to celebrate!

Volunteering

My head has been filled about my placement....

Friday was actually a really good day. I was in the 3 year old room, the room I really like. I taught the children how to play ring-around-the-rosie. Of course, they loved to "all fall down"! Then Fiorella, the assistant, and I taught some of them how to do somersaults. We started with one or two, and then all of them wanted to do it. It was so cute with their little bums in the air waiting to be pushed over. The smiles and giggles were so big!!

In this school, the director (principal) acts as the substitute. The director, Veronica, filled in for Luz on Friday, and she kept those children busy and working the entire day. They listened to her. She made them work. It was such a calm and fun day. There is one little boy who I am noticing is the instigator/bully. He often chases children, hits them, steals their toys, and tears their papers. Normally the teachers pull him away and then ignore the behavior. Veronica quieted him immediately, set him in a chair in the corner, and sat beside him and talked with him one-on-one. He cleaned up his behavior right away. Today, on the other hand he showed no respect towards any adults in the room and just wailed on the children. It is hard to watch, and I want to gently correct the behavior, but at the same time, I am an assistant to the teacher, not a teacher and I do not feel it is my place to discipline.

I feel like this experience is a sociological learning test. I am studying a lot of the educational and cultural differences without stepping in and teaching a "better" way. Who is to say my "way" is "better"? It has been a humbling adventure, and some days I feel like all power is lost with the language barrier. I sympathize with our students at home; I sense that they want to please and do their best, but because of the language barrier they just feel completely lost and as though they are not going to do anything right.

Lately I have been struggling with who I am here and my role. I chose this experience for the volunteer aspect. But I am in my placement for 4 hours each morning, and then I go off with my English speaking friends to tour the city, sit in a cafe, shop at a mall, or jet off to mystical places that these children will never see. Some days in placement, I just feel lost and useless--standing and watching. What is my purpose here? Am I making a difference for someone, or am I a burden standing in a classroom? It is not about me, it is about these children, but sometimes I feel like I am making it about me by saying I feel useless. With the term "volunteer", I feel as though I should be working longer or doing more. I cannot believe I have been here just over two weeks, and am preparing to return home at the end of the week. When I planned this excursion the thought of three weeks scared me, it seemed like forever. Now I feel like I'm just establishing myself and I have to leave. There are people here who are staying for six weeks to three months. I wonder how my placement at the school would change if I stayed longer? How much more Spanish would I learn? How many more opportunities would I have to teach and feel comfortable? Would I become a part of the class and not just feel like an outsider? Hmmmmmmmm.....