Rainy Ride Home and New Years

December 30, 2011 to January 1, 2012

The ride home from Abancay was great. I stayed at the Imperial Hotel, which is cheap and great for motorcyclists because of the indoor parking spaces.

The ride home was another killer ride, with bouts of heavy rain thrown in. I decided to take this cool dirt road through the mountains as a shortcut back to Ollanta. I made it within 10 minutes when I was forced to stop. A massive landslide completely covered the road, and it was an hour back to the man road. So I looked on the GPS and found a tiny little dotted line. Yes, that is always good! I took a tiny road through pastures that came out by the lake. It was beautiful. Detours are just more adventures.

The view from above Abancay

Headed into some serious rain

Massive landslide. Where you going? Nowhere!

View from above taken days later

Awesome little back road around the landslide

I found a lake...

Headed into Urubamba and more rain

New Year’s Eve I headed out to Cusco to meet up with the other volunteers left in town. I immediately noticed many people walking around with long, thin, brightly colored and decorated sticks. Hmmm, what were those for?

We found a place with pizza and shawarma then headed to the plaza. There was live music and we settled in on the step of the cathedral and bought a few beers from all the people walking around selling them to the crowd. There was a live band playing and the plaza slowly started to fill in.

By the time 11 pm rolled around the plaza was rocking. And all those long sticks? They are for launching fireworks. By midnight it was insane. There was a constant stream of fireworks shooting into the sky and we estimated around 75-100 thousand people there.

After the big countdown the tradition is to run around the plaza for good luck in travel over the new year. We weren’t sure if we would get trampled but it turned out to be awesome moving with the huge mass of people around the center of Cusco.

We got there early on the Cathedral steps

Ana and I in our New Year's gear

MIDNIGHT!!!

Walking around the plaza

The following day I had one goal, watch the last Lions game of the year. I still hadn’t seen one and didn’t want to miss it. I started at Norton’s Pub and it turns out they had purchased NFL Sunday Ticket since the last time I was there!! Game On!

I had a beer, burger, and flatscreen, life was good. Then, during the second quarter I heard someone in the background of the Spanish noise in the bar yell out happily during a Packers reception. What? I turned around and saw a guy wearing a Packers shirt. You’ve got to be kidding me. I just couldn’t get away.

But I ended up talking with all the people at his table and they turned out to be an amazing group of people who were there volunteering over break. One couple was a former teaching team who are now travel writers. Another woman and been to Peru earlier that summer and volunteered with Awamaki, she might volunteer with Sacred Valley Project next summer. The Packers guy is named Mark and was there with his son taking him on a service trip. Wow, it was great to meet them. We traded stories and information, it is always inspiring to meet other volunteers down here.

That's right, Calvin Johnson reception!

Mark gloating after the win

It’s Not all Rainbows and Butterflies

January 2, 2012

Life here is tough.

I have been writing a lot about how beautiful life is here, but some things happened Monday that I should probably share.

Let me begin with general, simple things. Every meal is rice and potatoes with a choice of an egg, piece of chicken, or a piece of beef. Hot showers are tough to come by, and if you do get one, often the wind blows out the pilot light right in the middle, greeting you with icy water. The streets are covered in all types of feces, from dogs, horses, and cows to human (yes, we have all seen people doing it right in the street). Refrigerators, ovens, beds, couches, and televisions are luxuries that only some of us have (out of those, we have an oven at my house). I sleep on a thin mattress on the floor with nothing else in my room except two fruit crates for my clothes. I’ve had 7 months straight of “stomach problems” and can’t shake the giardia. Internet is slower than dial-up. Electricity goes out randomly. The sewer system isn’t exactly modern. You can’t put toilet paper in the toilet because of it. Corruption dominates. Alcoholism is rampant. Education is inadequate. Misogyny is part of the culture. Many of the locals here turn on each other the moment someone experiences success. There is jealously and frustration magnified by a lack of resources.

Not to be gross, but this applies to this paragraph. I took this picture outside of our upstairs bathroom 3 seconds after I flushed the toilet. That is the main river through town. I'll let you figure out what you are looking at.

We volunteers are away from our friends and family. Many of us have left very high paying jobs to be here. We are missing opportunities for growth back home. Many don’t have health insurance, retirement, or money to visit home. A common phrase is “My parents or grandparents paid for my ticket home”, which applies to me as well. Any type of relationship, romantic or otherwise is practically impossible. The moment you become close with another volunteer they leave. It is basically one big goodbye party, and makes you not want to get to know anyone who isn’t a local.

But there is more. Monday was a good example. Within the space of 10 minutes I received two phone calls from other volunteers who were very, very distraught.

One volunteer began the morning with a visit from a woman who had recently had surgery. Her arm was severely infected and she needed immediate medical attention in Cusco. She had no money, so my friend gave her everything she had to get her there and to pay for medical services. Immediately after that, a man came into her office escorted by someone she trusted. The man was demanding $30 for a simple medical procedure he did 7 months ago! A reasonable price would have been $3. The only reason he was demanding it was because she is a foreigner and apparently a free source of money. Now, I know $30 doesn’t seem like much, but we are living on our savings, that goes a long way down here. But it was more the principle of being taken advantage of by a trusted friend. Then, walking through the plaza she was stopped by a man in town saying that she is stealing money from the people there because she wants to open a new business with a local man. The previous day she was accosted by a local woman who said she was sleeping with all the Peruvian men and she should leave (she has a boyfriend back home, the accusation was based on the fact she has conversations with men here, that’s it).

The second call was from a volunteer working directly with a business down here. Essentially things broke down there and she was blamed for everything in a hurtful way. The previous day she was yelled at for being a part of a NGO (non-government organization). A man told her that we are all just here laundering American drug money and we are doing no good. He said we just give people stuff and teach them to depend on foreign help. She was accused of being a drunk and drug user (she does neither). I often escort her home so she doesn’t have to deal with all the catcalls, whistles, and comments from the men in town. It wears you down.

We long term volunteers are constantly questioning our motives, purpose, and desire to be here. We know international service can be a tricky thing. Understanding the culture, providing needed services, working with the local government, not giving handouts but helping to educate and develop the community are all things we must deal with on a daily basis. We are judged as a group. Everyday thousands of tourists come through here, many treat the locals horribly. There is also a group of foreigners who just live here because it is a cheap, easy life with access to drugs.

But on some level we volunteers are that rich, foreign tourist. We may not have much money, but will still pull out our laptops and iPods. We have safety nets of support back home, people who would save us if things went really wrong. We will never, ever be fully accepted here.

What do we do? Go home? Give up? Are we even wanted here? Are we really making a difference or simply fooling ourselves?

I took this picture on New Year’s Day on a busy street in downtown Cusco. It is a very young girl selling beans for $0.17 a bag who has fallen asleep. She is alone. While I was taking the picture a group of foreign tourists walked right by (as did I).

I don’t know her story. But what circumstances must exist for such a young child to end up there? Something deep within me just doesn’t think this is okay.

Do I have answers? No. Do I question my purpose as well? Hell yes I do.

But for my small part down here, I look at her picture and I have a bit of hope. It is hope that someday she might have the opportunity for an education. It is hope that her children won’t find themselves on the same street. I think about our girls in the project and can't imagine a scenario where any of them will ever wind up there.

We will not give up.