Lunch

I haven't done much updating recently. Whoops.

Sunday, after church at Santa Isabel, I went to eat lunch with Manuel and Marina, a couple from the congregation. I would guess they're in their 70s. They live with their children and one grandchild about 4 blocks from the church. This was actually the third time they've had me over for lunch. Manuel and Marina's house is very simple. The floor is partly just the ground, part concrete. The "roof" is a makeshift patchwork of plastic tarps and strips of some sort of reed/bamboo woven together. The walls are primarily brick, but also include places where they seem to have been made from whatever was handy. The whole house is thus open to the air. While much of Santa Isabel's congregation are solidly middle class or even professionals, this couple is definitely not.

Sunday, I felt very blessed and honored to be eating with Manuel and Marina, as I always do whenever they invite me over. I enjoyed simply sitting at the table, talking with them, and watching birds fly down onto the floor outside the kitchen to eat and drink from the rice and water that Manuel and Marina leave for them. Meanwhile, they both worked to prepare lunch for the three of us. I would offer to help, but I know that they want me to just be there and relax. They enjoy "serving," so I should enjoy "being served."

Sunday I ate Pachamanca, which is a very traditional Peruvian dish. You could call it "Peruvian Bar-b-que." It consists of meat (on Sunday, it was chicken), two types of potatoes (one is "camote:" sweet potato) and some kind of large beans cooked all together with some sort of sauce in a whole in the ground. It's one traditional Peruvian dish that I actually really like.

My conversations with Manuel and Marina are always pretty basic. They ask me about my family and life back home in the US. They talk about different places in Peru I should visit, or different Peruvian foods I should try. On Sunday Manuel told me a story about how they used to have a dog, which even scared off two men trying to rob their house after the dog was already very old and partially paralyzed.

And then, after eating some of the best cantaloupe I've ever tasted for dessert, I left to take a siesta for the rest of the afternoon until the evening worship service, allowing them to do the same.

Running in Circles

I think one thing that has contributed to my recent happiness has been regular exercise. As I have mentioned before, Javier and I get up to work-out right before 6am Monday through Saturday. Every day we alternate going to lift weights at the nearby gym (there are actually at least THREE gyms within a block and a half of our house, but that's a different story) and running around the track at the neighborhood soccer field/stadium.

Lifting weights is not generally my preferred activity. I don't normally do it back home in the states. I like the feeling of accomplishment I have afterward, but while I'm in the midst of a workout, it's not really a rewarding experience for me. Running, on the other hand, keeps me sane (regardless of the fact that most people tell me that I'm certifiably INsane whenever I share that I've been getting up before 6am to run). Anyone who knows me well enough to follow this blog knows I'm a runner; I ran track and cross country every year from 7th grade through my junior year of college. I love it.

So when my cell phone alarm shocks me into consciousness at 5:50am on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, the initial feelings of agony and discomfort I have in response to being robbed of blissful sleep quickly subside when I remember: we get to RUN today! After groggily getting dressed, it's then my challenge to wake Javier up. He enjoys running way less than I do and is never happy when he hears me knock on the bedroom door and sweetly sing "Javier, Buenos Días!" But because Raquel really wants him to lose weight (and he wants to himself as well, he's just not a "morning person"), she forces him to get out of bed. So then we walk the three blocks to the soccer stadium, which at 6am (by then it's light outside), is already occupied by half a dozen or so people running, walking, doing "stadiums" on the steps and/or doing jumping jacks, sit-ups and push-ups. And sometimes there are just people sitting in the bleachers talking or watching -- at 6 in the morning. (One time when we came at 6am on a Saturday there was a group of four people wearing nice clothes and drinking right outside the entrance to the stadium; they had obviously been out all night. They were standing around their car with the trunk open and the music BLARING. They were playing really good English/US music - nirvana, guns 'n roses, coldplay, green day etc. - so it was really nice to have a soundtrack while we ran that day.)

We're actually really lucky to have a soccer stadium so close. They seem to be pretty rare in Lima. Most neighborhoods just have basketball/"fulbito" courts where people play soccer. Besides the Municipal Stadium downtown and Sinchi Roca, a giant public park a couple miles away in Comas, our little run-down stadium is one of the only places I've seen a full-size grass soccer field.

And around that field is a dusty dirt track. In my estimate, it's only about 250 meters long (regular tracks are 400m). And it follows the perimiter of the soccer field almost exactly - with sharp 90 degree turns instead of gentle rounded curves. There is frequently a lot of trash around the edges, including broken glass. And occasionally there are fairly large rocks or bricks in the middle of the running lane (why, I don't know). And there's obviously plenty of little holes, humps and divets all along the track. Finally, as with any public space in Lima, there are usually between two and six stray dogs milling around. Suffice it to say it's unlike any place I had ever regularly run before coming to Peru. But it's beautiful.

Even though he runs much, much slower than I do, I always jog the first two laps with Javier. And then I take off to do the rest at my own pace. Usually I do 12 or 13 laps (about 2 miles, I think) and he runs/walks about 7. By then it's time for us to go back so Javier can get ready for work. All in all, I run far less and less often in this routine than I did back in the States. But it's all I need, and more than I could have asked for.

Halfway Home

So as of Valentine's Day, I've completed 24 of the 48 weeks that I will spend in Peru. Pretty crazy. Sometimes I feel like the time has really flown by. Other times I think "wow, so that means I still have ANOTHER 24 weeks?!"

But right now, halfway done seems just about right. I am content here in Lima. I'm not sure if I can say that living and working here has "met my expectations" or not. I feel like I didn't come in with too many expectations. I definitely didn't expect to be living in such a comfortable or modern home, which although this has posed some unique challenges for me in terms of how I want to spend my time, has also been a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting to still be struggling as much as I am with Spanish at this point. I also expected my work placements to be a little more organized than they are. Especially with Compassion, there's just not hardly any order or structure as to what I'm "supposed" to do, or what exactly they would like me to do. But I'm starting to take some more initiative and figuring it out.

OK, I just now thought of a much better way to do this. One of the first blog entries I posted was right before orientation, when I wrote down some of my hopes, fears and expectations going into the year. So I'm going to copy and paste it below, and let you know which of those hopes, fears and expectations have panned out and which haven't.

I’m excited to leave a culture in which you’re defined by what you consume and what you do.

Ok, this is definitely false. This might be true among the rural, more indigenous communities of Peru, but in Lima, I would say that people are even MORE defined (if that's possible; or "just as defined) by what they consume than they are back home. Cell phones, computers, name brand clothes -- all of these are important "status symbols" among the people in the area of Lima where I live.

I hope to enter a culture in which you’re defined by who you are.

This, in some ways, is true. I think it's because the concept of the "family" is so much stronger here. And my neighborhood, Santa Isabel, is actually a tight-knit community in some ways. And no matter what I do personally, I will ALWAYS be defined first and foremost as a "gringo." For better or for worse.

I’m excited about becoming fluent in Spanish.

I'm still excited about this. "Fluent" is an interesting word, because there's no real fine line that separates "fluent" from "not fluent." I have accepted that there's no way for me to be able to speak Spanish as well as I speak English, especially after only a year of living in a Spanish-speaking country. Like, I said, I originally hoped I would be a better Spanish speaker by now. But when I think about the fact that I'm only halfway done with my time here, I'm pretty sure I could call myself "fluent" by the time I'm done.

I’m excited about learning how to live simply.

This is another interesting statement. I think I am living simply, especially if "simply" means reducing my environmental footprint. I take public transportation or walk everywhere. Even though I still use a washing machine to wash my clothes, I dry them on a clothesline. My food is all fresh and local. But on the other hand, I've actually become MORE technologically savvy since coming to Peru: with skype, blogs and digital cameras/camcorders.

I’m excited about not feeling pressure to work, produce and accomplish individual accolades.

This is 100% true. And it's awesome. This excitement was definitely something held over from feeling burnt-out at the end of college. And whenever I get stressed about doing anything there, for whatever reason, I remind myself that I'm not expected (nor is it my job) to "produce" anything wonderful, magnificent or life-changing.

I’m excited about teaching people and learning from them at the same time.

This is another valid thing for me to have been excited about. Even though I haven't had too much success with my English classes, ocassionally they are very rewarding. And overall, just from my conversations with people, I would say I've done a lot of both learning and teaching.

I’m excited about gaining fresh perspectives on God, life, values and economics.

I'm not sure what specific type of "economic perspectives" I was thinking of when I wrote this, but I'd say this has happend as well. I plan on writing more about this in a separate entry.

I’m excited about learning how to trust God to take care of things I usually try to control myself.

This is something I probably need to continue working on. But putting everything in God's hands is definitely what I remind myself to do whenever I have one of those moments when I realize that I'm basically living on my own, away from friends and family, within a different language, culture, and socio-economic context.

I’m excited about becoming part of a new family.

I would never have guessed that I'd become a part of TWO new families. Which has made me "doubly blessed" in a lot of ways.

I’m excited about experiencing love and grace.

I probably won't ever know or understand how much love and grace the people who I live and work with here in Lima, not to mention God, have afforded me.

I’m excited about having plenty of time to read, write, pray and think.

Definitely true as well. And over the past week or so, I've actually done a good job with my commitment to do more of these things, and spend less time on the internet.

I’m excited about meeting people who are open to fresh ideas and listening to my thoughts and dreams.

Again, this expectation has most certainly been met.

I’m excited about defying people’s stereotypes about white people from the US.

I really hope I defy stereotypes about white, male North Americans. But I don't think I can ever really know for sure.

I’m excited about not “needing” a car.

Amen.

I’m excited about leaving a political climate that hurts and divides people.

I wrote this, obviously, during the election season. I was truly amazed and touched by the election of Barack Obama. It was awesome. From my perspective, it really did seem to unite people, at least for awhile (from what I understand, much of that unity has already eroded over the stimulus bill arguments). And Lima was an interesting place to witness all of the election happenings, which I'll never forget. Also - there's definitely plenty of divisive politics here in Peru.

I’m excited about leaving a culture obsessed with achievement, money, work and appearance.

Wrong. Again, US cultural imperialism has made this obsession even stronger among people in Lima, sad to say.

I’m excited about discovering who I am and becoming who God created me to be.

Probably the most important item in this list. And I'm still excited, because I'm still discovering and growing - even though the year is halfway over, I feel like THIS process has really just begun.

I’m scared that my year of service won’t live up to my high hopes and expectations about personal transformation.

Haha, well this is an awkward one to evaluate now, isn't it? So far, I think my hopes and expectations have been or are being fulfilled.

I’m scared about being asked to pray out loud in Spanish.

This still scares me, ocassionally. But I'm over it. I've definitely prayed some short, weird, grammatically incorrect and/or unintelligble prayers though. Oh well.

I’m scared about leading bible studies and teaching children’s Sunday school in Spanish.

Actually, I haven't done too much sunday school teaching yet. I'm still scared about that. But not nearly as much as I was. I do alright.

I’m scared that I have no clue how to teach English.

This is definitely true. I'm learning as I go.

I’m scared of culture shock.

Another legitimate fear. But I eventually dealt with it.

I’m scared of feeling utterly alone in a house filled with seven people and in a city of 8 million.

This is also true. The internet helps.

I’m sad about leaving my friends and family.

And I still miss them.

I’m scared about being bored.

I'm bored a lot, but it's nothing to be scared of. I'm working on creating more productive, mind-stimulating ways to not be bored, though.

I’m scared about being/thinking differently than my conservative evangelical brothers and sisters in the Presbyterian Church in South America.

Yep. This frustration/fear isn't going away any time soon. But I"ve learned a lot from being immersed among different perspectives.

I’m scared I’ll be tempted to come home.

Not yet.

I’m scared about being robbed.

Haha, 100% legitimate. It could have been worse.

I’m scared about getting hurt or sick.

This still scares me some times. But I've been very, very lucky so far. Then again, getting hurt or sick probably isn't any less likely to happen to me in the US. It would just be more complicated here.

I’m scared about becoming transformed.

Nothing to be scared about. I think I wrote this because I was pretty satisfied and happy with who I was and what I believed in before I left. Now that I've been 'transformed' a little bit, and am still being transformed, I'm still pretty satisfied and happy with the person I was before I left, and with the person I am now, too.

I’m scared I won’t live up to the expectations of the churches in Lima.

This was a silly thing to say.

I’m sad and frustrated about having to pay for drinking water.

That's still frustrating. Leslie has a purifying system that she brought with her that allows her to drink water out of the tap. I'm jealous.

I’m scared that I might confirm people’s stereotypes about people from the U.S.

I've definitely confirmed plenty of stereotypes. But what can I do about it now?

I’m scared I won’t make a difference.

Another silly thing to say. It would be impossible for me to come here and NOT make a difference. As David Lamotte says, there's a difference between wanting to change the world and wanting to FIX the world. It's not like we're going to wake up one morning and the newspaper will say "World Fixed; Let's all go to the beach!" You can't live in the world WITHOUT changing the world, the question is whether you will change the world for better or for worse.

I’m scared about getting angry at the world and at my country.

Yet another silly thing to say.

I’m scared (sort of) that my host family won’t be that different after all (wealth, comforts, technology).

A silly thing to be scared of, but it's true - I've got a lot of the same comforts and technology here that I had back at home. Which is ok.

I’m scared I packed too much.

Hahaha. Actually, I think I packed just about right.

Yesterday, I think I finally realized (realistically) what leaving Peru is going to be like. Up until now, I hadn't really thought about leaving in any other way besides predicting how excited I will be to go back to friends and family (as well as all of the foods I'm missing). But yesterday, I realized how attached I've gotten to this place. My host family is amazing (both of them: Javier, Raquel et al and my original host family, who I still visit at least once a week). I'm speaking Spanish much better. I know how to get around. I can tolerate all of the food, and I actually enjoy a couple of them. For the most part, I've really started to find a niche and get into a rhythm at my work placements. And between playing soccer with kids in the neighborhood and attending the worship service for high schoolers and young adults at Km 13, I'm starting to get to know and make friends with people my age. So right now, at least, I'm content.

Oh, and for those of you wondering how my singing went: it went fine. Nobody pointed and laughed. Javier told me (sincerely I think) afterwards that I did a good job. So we'll see if they ask me to do it again next week.

I'm a gringo spanish vocal artist

Just kidding. But it appears that last night I somehow became a member of the Santa Isabel Church praise band.

Okay, now that the laughter has died down, I'll explain how that happened. Basically, I had been hanging out at home yesterday evening alone. Raquel and Javier had left earlier -- I assumed they were going out to do some sort of Valentine's Day activity. The doorbell rang, and it was two people asking for Raquel. I told them she was gone and that I didn't know when she'd be back. So after they left, I decided to give Raquel a call to see when they'd be back. They told me they were at the church singing praise songs and invited me to come join them. I didn't have too much to do (it being Valentine's Day and me being in Peru), so I decided to go join them. What they were ACTUALLY doing, which I didn't understand from the phone conversation, was rehearsing the music for the worship services the next day. (Raquel and Javier are two of five people on the church committee for music and praise.) So as soon as I walked in, they were putting a microphone in my face and telling me to sing with them. I tried at least 3 times saying no, but they kept persisting, so I took the microphone (those of you who know me well know that I can only resist having a microphone shoved in my face for so long).

The praise band group varies between about 4 and 7 people every sunday (plus one more now, if you include me I guess). When all 8 are there, we have a keyboard player, drummer, guitar player and four singers. It's basically your typical contemporary christian praise band -- the singers have microphones, but they're not technically "performing," because the whole congregation sings along. And after being here for 6 months, I pretty much know all of the songs we normally sing -- plus the singers usually read the lyrics of sheets while they sing anyway so they won't forget the words (Santa Isabel doesn't use power point yet, but that's definitely in the future) . And having me there allows Javier to play the drums (he normally sings and plays guitar, but the drummer is sick or out of town or something), because without me there would be no other male singers.

I sang and practiced with them for the entire 1 1/2 hour rehearsal. And they kept assuring me that I was a decent singer. So in about two hours I will be singing with the rest of the praise band group for the 11 o clock worship service (we're all wearing jeans and black t-shirts). I'm not sure how the congregation will react, but I personally think the concept of a gringo male who has never really sang in front of people before suddenly singing contemporary christian music in Spanish through a microphone in front of a group of Peruvians is nothing short of hilarious.

Whistle Solo

All I need is just a little patience. I feel like I'm a pretty patient guy, by US standards. That is definitely not the case in Peru. Today, after the bible study at Santa Isabel church, there was an impromptu meeting among some of the male church leaders/members of the session to talk about things in the church they want to change/make better, or plans for upcoming services etc. Usually there are about four or five people participating, including Javier (my host dad, who's the church treasurer), which is the reason I also end up staying. These discussions after evening worship services/bible studies are not uncommon. And it's also not uncommon for me to get really antsy during them. Usually the discussions last for about 20 minutes. Frequently, I get a feeling they would last longer if I don't start heading for the door, or saying "I kind of need to go," at which point they all say "yikes, it's getting late, let's go."

But today I didn't do that. So approximately fifty-five minutes after the bible study ended, we walked home (the discussion ended with them deciding that they needed to have a meeting to talk this coming Saturday...) I feel really guilty for always only thinking about how much I want to leave during these discussions. I am amazed how much energy and passion these men put into their work with the church. They all have families and full time jobs. During any given day, they all probably get up earlier than I do, spend more time working than I do, and go to bed later than I do. But while I'm nearly falling asleep and anxiously watching the clock, hoping to go home during these discussions, they're excitedly chatting away about the church politics, policies and programming. I'm glad that they're all so passionate about church life. And I wish I had the energy and patience to be like them.

Life Update

Hey, so this is a post that won't have much to do with Peru. Sorry.

I just thought I'd update anyone who might be interested (and I would maybe hope you would be, if you're reading my blog) about what my "Post-Peru" plans are. I will return to the United States some time between July 30 and August 1. I will then have approximately one month to reunite/reconnect with friends and family and hopefully visit some churches of the churches that have supported me this year to share my experiences. Then, starting in September, I will be a PC(USA) Young Adult Volunteer all over again.

That's right, I've decided to apply to be a YAV again, this time at a national YAV site. I have applied to the sites in Hollywood (CA), Miami and Tucson. This week I had my interviews with all three of the site coordinators from those YAV sites. I've decided to spend a week praying, thinking discerning etc. before I turn in the interview evaluations to the PC(USA) office. After I turn the evaluations in, the YAV staff and site coordinators have the final decision as to where they will place me (I'll find out where I'll be going in April, I think).

When I went through the YAV application and discernment process this past year, before coming to Peru, I always had a feeling that I might end up doing more than one YAV placement. I was really torn between the different living situations that are offered at the national vs. international YAV sites. At the international sites, YAVs live with a host family, totally immersed in the language and culture of the country where they're serving. At the national sites, YAVs live together all in one house in intentional community. I'm in the midst of living within the first of those situations, and I am excited about the prospect of doing the second. I think living in intentional community with other YAVs will be a great experience in personal/spiritual growth, adaptability and patience as I prepare to enroll in Seminary for the fall of 2010. (Seminary has always been part of the "big picture" for me. For THAT story, if you don't know it already, send me an email)

So please keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I spend the next few days discerning where I feel God is calling me to serve next year. And let me know if you have any questions/comments/suggestions etc!

sermons

I preached four times this week and led one bible study. It was busy. Overall, I think it went really well, all things considered (definitely could have been better.... but still) On Saturday, I preached/led worship for the middle school youth group again. We started by playing "honey, if you love me smile," which they really seemed to enjoy. And then we had a discussion about love and sex. And they actually participated, for the most part. We talked about the different ways "the world" (ie movies, music, the media, culture etc) portrays sex vs. the way the bible portrays sex. I read the first chapter of Song of Songs out loud for them (which they REALLY got a kick out of) and we also read a section from 1 Corinthians where Paul condemns sexual immorality but encourages (and even mandates) sex within marriage. We also talked about the four greek words for love (storge, phileos, eros and agape) and discussed how hormones during adolescence can make us confuse love vs. lust/sexual desire. After the meeting was over, one of the older (college-age) youth, who was at the service because she arrived early for the high school and young adult service, explained to me how I actually didn't explain all of the different Greek words for love correctly, but overall I think I did a good job and it was a success.

But I think I was most proud of the sermon I preached on Sunday (today), the very next morning. I was asked to preach on John 5. I was most excited about this sermon, because I think in the end the congregation got a lot out of it. I simultaneously saw heads nodding and other people scratching their heads (in a good way -- like I gave them something they had never thought about before). And most importantly I didn't "water it down" or consciously add more conservative/fundamentalist language or theological elements like I've done before out of fear that people would get angry or upset if I didn't, because obviously the churches here are much more conservative. The basic message of the sermon was free grace with no strings attached. I'm hoping to write a blog entry later that won't really be a summary of the sermon, but will include some thoughts and ideas that I had while writing it that I'd like to share.

That's all for now; goodnight.

That awkward in-between period

Today I visited my old host family, as I've been doing every Thursday for the past month or so. To get to their house and back, I have to take a bus for about 15 minutes outside of my neighborhood. On my way back, I did as I always do and paid the cobrador (that is, the person who collects the bus fares and announces/advertises the different bus stops on the route) and told her "Avenida Lima," the name of the closest main street to my house, where I get off the bus. You have to tell the cobrador where you're getting off so he/she knows how much to charge you. She charged me 50 centimos, which was good, because they occasionally charge 80. Today, the bus was full -- I had to stand up holding a handrail for the entire ride back. I'd say there were maybe 50 people on the bus.

As we approached the turn onto Avenida Lima, the cobrador, who was in the front of the bus, yelled out
"Avenida Lima." Meanwhile I was in the back of the bus. The bus stopped and the back door opened, which happened to be close to where I was standing. No one got off.
"Do you get off at Avenida Lima?" she repeated. I suddenly realized she was staring right at me. I'm sure I looked really confused. I've taken this same bus route many, many times and not once had this ever happened. It always not only turned onto Avenida Lima but traversed the entire length of the street. However, since the cobrador was asking if I was getting off at Avenida Lima before the bus actually turned onto the street, I started to think that this particular bus was altering the route today (something that HAS happened to me before with other busses). So for some reason, I figured maybe it wasn't going to turn onto the street, so I needed to get off right there, at the corner.
"Yes," I answered her question, "Is the bus not going to turn?" I was really, really embarrassed to be having a conversation across the length of the bus in my gringo Spanish accent while the bus was stopped in the middle of the street and all of the passengers basically were a captive audience.
"Oh, do you get off further down the street?" she asked me.
"Yes, of course," I replied. And with that the driver closed the door and turned onto Avenida Lima. Relieved that the situation had been resolved and the bus had started moving again, I said softly "I might be a gringo, but I do know my own bus route." The people around me chuckled (people always laugh when I call myself a gringo). Luckily, the point where I get off was only 5 or 6 blocks down the road, so it wasn't long before I got off the bus and walked the remaining half-block to my house.

There's really no way I can fully express the awkwardness/discomfort of that situation to a North American who's never before lived in Peru. Basically, the reason all of it happened was that because of my accent and probably a bunch of other cultural cues, the cobrador realized that I wasn't "from around here." So she wanted to make sure I didn't get lost. And it's okay that she assumed I didn't live in Lima and might not know where I was going. It took awhile, but I've finally accepted the fact that I'm never going to be Peruvian. Especially not this year. I'm never going to fully fit in. I'm always going to look, sound and act like a North American. Which I've realized is fine, and very much expected since that's exactly what I am. Whereas it used to really, really bother me when strangers would see me on the street and immediately start speaking English to me ("Hello. What is your name? Where are you from?"), for the most part, it doesn't any more. The vast majority of the people that do this are just trying to be friendly. Lots of people know English - it's taught in all of the schools, plus it's the default language of world media and entertainment - so they're excited to practice it with a native speaker. And especially in places like Comas, native English speakers don't come around too often. Even though she didn't speak any English to me, the Cobrador was a type of example of this friendliness/excitement. She was just trying to help me. She recognized me as a foreigner, but she didn't overcharge me for the bus fare. Instead, she decided to let me know when I should get off, since she figured I didn't know where I was going. But little did she know, her trying to be friendly and helpful actually caused me a lot of embarrassment.

I know this seems like a silly situation to over-analyze, but just that's what I do. The last important thought I had is that I have a feeling most people who get off the bus on my street, avenida Lima, probably tell the cobrador something different than "avenida lima." I've actually only ridden that bus one time when I wasn't buy myself (don't worry, I'm never riding it at night), and I don't remember what the person who rode with me told the cobrador was our stop. Most Comas natives might just say "santa isabel" or something like that, something that also might distinguish me from the other bus-riders.

So even though I feel comfortable and well-adjusted to living in Lima, this proves that there are still a few things that I have to learn. I'm still in an awkward, in-between period. On the one hand, I'm speaking Spanish very well. I know my way around. I can do things relatively independently. I've gotten used to (or even started to like) a lot of cultural things that at the beginning of my year here annoyed or confused me. But the transition isn't over, and may never be. I still don't tell the cobradores the right things sometimes. I still make cultural faux pas. Even though I feel more and more like a regular Lima resident, I still act and look enough like a foreigner for people to continue mistaking me for a tourist. And finally, even though I keep claiming that it doesn't bother me any more, the fact that this happens still, well, bothers me a little bit.

As someone who has finished his undergrad but has not yet begun graduate school, I really shouldn't be surprised that perhaps the best way to describe this year is "an awkward, in-between period."

a little rascal

As I think I've mentioned before, I spend a lot of time in my work with Km 13 Church's Compassion program simply feeding children who either can't or won't feed themselves. There's a 4-year old who fits into that category named Alexis. Alexis has been my special friend lately. He gets dropped off for the afternoon session of Compassion (that begins at lunchtime) by his cousin. Every day, his cousin leaves him kicking, screaming and crying. She basically has to throw him down and then run out the door before he can re-attach himself to her. He then spends the next 5 minutes or so just throwing a tantrum (this literally happens every single day I work there). So usually, as soon as his cousin drags him in the classroom, I cheerfully shout "Alexis! We're going to have so much fun eating together today." At which point he usually looks at me with sheer terror in his eyes and begins to wail even louder. After his cousin has left, some time has past and his tantrum has begun to subside, I can usually convince him to sit in his seat in front of his plate of food. Of course, he always says over and over again that he doesn't want to eat any of it. And then I always say "why not, it's really good today?" Then I fix him a bite and shove it towards his mouth, which is always clamped shut, occasionally with both of his hands covering it. Then he'll turn to one side, and I'll follow him with the food. Then he turns to the other side, but I don't give up. I start playfully pleading with him just to try one bite. Finally, after I keep insisting and shoving the food in his face, he eventually pulls back and opens his mouth really wide. From there, the feeding starts. Even though he still complains, he eventually does eat most of his food. Sometimes I have to cut the meat up in really, really tiny pieces and then hide it amongst clumps of rice for him to eat it. Not even this works sometimes, and he just spits it out. I'm not exactly sure why we go through this routine every single time, but we've been doing it ever since I got back to work after our New Year's vacations. At first it was a pain, but now I kind of enjoy it. I think Alexis does too. I keep wondering if eventually he'll "really" like me and not look at me with sheer terror in his eyes when he first comes in the room. But even if he doesn't, that's okay too.

Mission

so today I went up "in the hills" to a poorer area of santa isabel's neighborhood with some of the members of the church. First we shared a brief bible reflection, and then we gave out clothes, toys and juice to a group of kids and families who live there. Since it's a relatively "middle class" church, I'm glad that some members of Santa Isabel are starting to get a sense of mission. I am also excited, because I see this as a place where my presence and experience could definitely help them, since the whole community service idea is relatively new to them.

The whole thing was a kind of controlled chaos. I read the bible passage in Spanish using a megaphone, which was made more difficult by the fact that I was reading it from someone else's bible, and that bible happened to be basically the equivalent of the King James Version in Spanish. Meaning that it had a lot of antiquated, elevated language, specifically with the vosotros verb form everywhere, which I've NEVER had to read/use out loud, outside of verb drills in Spanish classes in the US. Then another church member used the megaphone to preach a short sermon about the passge that I read. And finally, we lined them up to get their clothes/toys. For awhile, they actually stayed in line, which really impressed me. The main problem was most of the toys were actually bundled in little bags, and at first we started handing out one bag of toys per person. We ended up with enough toys for about 1/3 of the kids who were there... which wasn't good. Then we started giving out the second hand clothes. This was made complicated by the fact that all of the clothes, regardless of size or gender, was all mixed together. One of the church members was handing out specific clothes to specific people based on size/gender while the other just handed out the clothes to whoever was there, and told them if it didn't fit to give it to a parent or sibling. Finally, we gave out juice. This was probably the most successful part, because we did end up with enough juice and cups for everyone. Again, the line worked for about a minute or two before it just became a free-for-all, but in the end everyone got served.

I didn't know much about what wer were doing until we actually went. I just knew we were going to give out clothes, toys and juice to kids up the hill. As we walked back down, we all talked about ways it could go better next time. I told them that my experience in the US shows that these type of things require a lot of previous effort/organization. Next time, I said, we should go through and sort the clothes by male/female and child/adult/baby. We should also count to see how many articles of clothing and toys we have beforehand. One of the church members also suggested that we create a list of all of the names of the kids who come next time, so we can have an idea of who/how many kids we're dealing with.

All in all, I'm very excited to continue doing this in the future.

Shower epiphanies

During college, I always used to have epiphanies in the shower. Well, "epiphanies" is probably an exaggeration. "Moments of inspiration" is a better term. Frequently, when I had a big paper to write (often due the next morning....), I would figure out exactly what I wanted to write about, what my thesis would be or an important point to make while I was taking a shower. It wasn't intentional; I didn't usually say to myself "crap, I'm stuck -- I'll take a shower and figure out what to write next." Usually, I'd just find myself showering and all of the sudden it would come to me. It's weird, I know, but for some reason that's where I do my best thinking or seem to be divinely inspired etc.

The only catch is, I hadn't had one of my shower moments since I came to Peru. I've certainly needed them sometimes, as I've already preached a few sermons and led a few bible studies that I should have been more prepared for.... But this morning I finally had one. Ironically enough, I was showering this morning while trying to think about what I would write about in my daily blog for yesterday [this entry], since I didn't do it last night.

So what I decided to write about in the shower was food. I'm not a huge fan of Peruvian food in general. I mean, it's not terrible, but eating it every day is TOUGH. However, I've actually gotten to the point where, when I force myself, I can eat the potatoes and white rice that is served with Every. Single. Meal. And when I'm REALLY hungry, I look forward to it. However Mike and Sean, two of the other YAVs, are even less of fans. Sometimes, Sean and Mike just can't force themselves to eat whatever's on their plate (and when the rice includes beets, I usually can't either). I don't blame them. Huge quantities of rice and potatoes just seem like needless, bland carbohydrates with little nutritious value. And everything is complicated by the fact that most meals include, in addition to the rice & potatoes, a huge piece of meat and maybe a couple thin slices of tomatoes, cucumber and lettuce as "vegetables" (or even worse: the beets). But last night, Mike and I went to Chili's (if Sean is reading this, he will be quite upset that he wasn't there because he was in Huancayo) with Bethany and Matthew, two other North Americans who were in Peru for a Congress of Young Environmentalists, which the YAVs also attended. At Chili's, I ate a Texas Cheeseburger with a lemonade (actually served with ICE -- this never happens with Peruvian food). It was amazing. Not good for you, but amazing. I savored it. Mike, Sean and I have spent literally HOURS in the past month or so discussing the food we miss from the States. Eating at Chili's was like being transported back to casual family dining in the US.

Food is an important thing. As The Market continues to be THE thing that shapes every facet of our daily life, perhaps eventually the day will come where in the name of efficiency/time management/productivity people will start replacing meals with some sort of injection or pill that instantly provides a person with the required nutrients, carbohydrates and proteins for hours or a day at a time. But I don't think that food, as we know it today, will ever be phased out entirely (at least, I hope not). It's too good.

The interesting part is that later in the night, the four of us joined my friend Leah, who I met here through a Trinity U. friend studying abroad in Lima, and the subject turned to food. It turns out that Leah, who's actually been in Peru for a month longer than the YAVs, LOVES Peruvian food (she's from Brooklyn, while Mike, Sean and I are from the south and the midwest, which might explain it....). Furthermore, someone told me recently that Peruvian food was rated by someone (I don't now who... some "Food Expert?") or some organization as being the fourth best type of food in the world. So maybe Mike, Sean and I are just weird.

.....

More than anything though, I think the importance of the shower epiphany was simply the fact that it occurred, here in Peru. In the past few weeks, I've started running or working out at 6am every morning (except sunday) with Javier. Which means I'm showering every morning (except sunday). Which is way more than I was showering at the beginning of my year here (partly because I started with only cold showers). So I guess the point is that this morning I understood the shower epiphany as a sign that I'm finally becoming comfortable living here. Showering in Peru has become routine enough that I my mind and feelings are open to experience moments of inspiration while doing it. Life is good.

congregational meetings

So today at Santa isabel church instead of having a normal sunday morning worship service, there was a called congregational meeting. It started at 11:30 and didn't end until 2:30. Really, the only order of business was debating and voting on whether or not to call a half-time pastor (the church is currently without a pastor). After 3 hours of arguing, they ultimately decided against it. I think there were several reasons why the motion was voted down. Some people thought the session didn't spend enough time praying, fasting etc in making their decision on who to call. They also thought there should have been more than one potential pastor to choose from. Others didn't think we would benefit from a part-time pastor, and that we wouldn't be paying him enough to keep him invested in the church. And others were simply satisfied with the way things are now, without a pastor; the IEP (the name of the denomination) believes strongly in the "priesthood of all believers" so at Santa Isabel and other churches who don't have pastors, the people who preach and lead worship services are just regular members of the church or occasional guest pastors. They think the church's money would be better spent on something besides a pastor's salary. There was a lot more arguing/intense discussion today than usually happens at congregational meetings at PCUSA churches back at home, which usually don't last more than 30 minutes or so, in my experience. There are a lot more issues of church politics that I could probably discuss later, but right now I need to go to bed.