At least I don't have to worry about being shocked by an electric water heater in the shower

So after church yesterday, I’m walking through the local open-air fresh food market with Daniela (my host mother). I’m looking at all of the nice vegetables, fruit and meat, taking in the sights and smells, when all the sudden, there’s a pig head. Yeah. It’s just the head of a full-grown pig, obviously bathed in preservatives, but it’s detached from the rest of it’s body. And it’s just hanging under one of the tents at a little above eye-level STARING straight at me. It was kind of creepy. And by “creepy,” I mean “awesome.”

Anyway, today’s entry features sub-headings! As well as descriptions of who people are in parentheses after their names (you may have noticed that above). I’ve described who these people are before, but if you’re like me, you probably won’t remember – or you just didn’t read the previous entry or two – shame, shame, shame!

Paging Dr. Atkins

Peru is the starch capital of the world. Seriously, I hope not too many of my friends and family are too attached to skinny, long-distance runner Alex, because in all likelihood the Alex that returns to the States next August will NOT be that guy. I knew that Peru was going to be a meat ‘n potatoes kind of place, but I didn’t know it was going to be a meat, white rice, white bread and potatoes kind of place. Yes, most regular meals here include BOTH potatoes (they’re frequently french fries) and white rice. And white bread is a breakfast staple. On top of that, I think Daniela (host mother) must use about a half a bottle of vegetable oil with every meal she cooks. Don’t get me wrong, the food here is really, really good – it’s just also really, really bad for you! The other day, Daniela told me that the family doesn’t really save any of their income. But they don’t use it to buy extravagant things either – they just spend it all on food! “Y por eso, somos muy gordos!” (and because of this, we’re very fat!). They aren’t that poor (by Peruvian standards…), they just like to eat.

So much for “Machismo”

Last Tuesday, Juan Carlos (host father), Juan (host brother) and I had a “guys night out.” What did we do? We went shopping at the mall of course. There was a family wedding on Saturday, so first we had to buy suites for Juan and me. The store we went to was basically a Macy’s-type department store in what was I think just a US-style shopping mall. We never did find one that fit perfectly. Every suit jacket there was really big. It almost felt like we must have been in a “big and tall” store – especially when you consider the fact that Peruvians normally aren’t that tall (and considering the average caloric intake, surprisingly they aren’t that big either). We eventually did find one that was reasonably priced and that fit well enough. I tried to pay for half of it, but Juan Carlos wouldn’t let me. I tried again when we bought dress shoes, and this time we made a deal that I would pay for dinner for the 3 of us that night. And conveniently located in the parking lot of the mall was a KFC. I had become wary of all of the greasy, unhealthy food I had been eating recently, so at first I wasn’t too thrilled to be getting fried chicken and french fries for dinner. But then I remembered that KFC recently stopped using trans fats!!!!!....... and then I thought about it for a second and realized that they probably weren’t too concerned about trans fat in South America. Oh well. The worst part is that while KFC still serves its gross mayonnaise-y cold slaw in South America, for some reason they DON’T serve their amazing biscuits! What’s the point of going to KFC if they don’t have the biscuits?!

Weddings and Receptions

As mentioned above, I got to wear my fabulous new suit Saturday night at the wedding. (WHICH, by the way, was in an ANGLICAN church. How many people can say that they’ve attended an event at an Anglican church in Latin America but not a Catholic one?) The bride was Juan Carlos’ (host father) sister, and she was marrying umm, some guy… who I soon learned was a professional singer. After they exchanged vows, Juan (host brother) informed be that the groom was going to sing a song. I thought this to be a strange Peruvian custom. He started singing the first couple phrases, and I thought “dang, this guy has a pretty decent voice.” Midway through the song I finally figured he must be a professional singer. I was kinda disappointed that the groom doesn’t have to sing at ALL Peruvian weddings.

Damaris (6 year old host sister) was pretty much the star of the wedding. As the flower girl, she was the first person in the spotlight, and never really left it. I think she found a way to work herself into nearly every picture taken of the newlyweds and families at the reception. Which brings us to the reception. The wedding and reception were in San Isidro, which is one of the upper-class, high-end financial districts of Lima (my host family and I were kind of out of our element – I had to tie Juan Carlos’s necktie for him before the ceremony because he didn’t know how). The reception was pretty tame – just a little music and dancing. But there was champagne and fingerfoods EVERYWHERE. Seriously, I think I nearly ate my weight in cookies and candy and pastries and meat kabobs. And then I learned that we were having DINNER at “part 2” of the reception, at a nearby hotel. So there was more wine and champagne, and some sort of fancy Peruvian pork and cheesy potato dish that I couldn’t eat much of because I was already stuffed. Although the wedding had started at 7, we didn’t get home until about 1am.

Meet the Gringo

Have I mentioned that I have yet to actually start my “work” yet? Our Lima orientation lasted all the way until Friday, and we had the weekend to rest. On Sunday, I was introduced to the congregation of the creatively named “Kilometer 13” church (one of 2 churches that I’ll be working with). It’s in a little bit poorer area of Comas (the name of the district of Lima that I live in). I arrived with Daniela during Sunday school (the rest of the family doesn’t go to church0. They had all of the Sunday school age groups together taking turns with bible trivia. I knew most of the answers for the younger kids’ questions – and I might have done alright with the older kids if the questions hadn’t been in Spanish! Once the worship service started, I was called up to the front to be presented by Hernando (the pastor) to the congregation pretty much immediately. Debbie (the YAV Peru site coordinator) must have given him a copy or summary of my YAV application, because he almost literally read my entire resume to the congregation – right down to my high school class rank! It was kind of uncomfortable. Afterwards, I got a chance to introduce myself. I basically told them I was happy to be there and excited about learning from them and also teaching the congregation about my personal faith and culture. And I asked them to be patient with my Spanish. Luckily, they didn’t ask me to pray (it would have been in Spanish of course) – I really thought they were going to!

The format of the service was pretty much standard for Protestant (“Evangelical”) churches in Latin America. We sang a few contemporary songs and a more traditional-style hymn, all led by a praise band. Then the pastor read scripture, delivered the sermon (~ 40 minutes long, maybe a little less), then we sang one more song to collect the offering, and finally the “President” of the what Presbyterians would call the session read some announcements and then called on a lucky soul to pray (again, not me!) before we departed. After the service was over, I met with the pastors and a few members of the session for a few minutes before I was bombarded by members of the “youth group” (which is high school, college and “young adult” ages). They all introduced themselves and invited me to help out with their worship service the next Saturday. I quickly learned from Hernando (the pastor) that I was not obligated to do anything that anybody but him asked me to do – my schedule was already set. He told me some other things too – suffice it to say that if I’ve learned one thing already, it’s that there is NO escaping the headache of petty church politics, no matter what hemisphere you’re in.

Para Concluir (if you hear this during an evangelical sermon in Peru, that means there's still a good 15 minutes left)

That’s about it. I think I’m definitely still in the “honeymoon” phase of living in a new culture. I’ve gotten over the initial discomforts of adjusting to a new routine, and now I’m just enjoying being here. It’s pretty exhausting to be speaking Spanish all the time, but I’m able to understand the Limeños more and more. Juan Carlos still has to repeat everything he says about 2 or 3 times before I can begin to figure out what he’s saying, but I’ll get there eventually.

I’ll leave you with my personal guide on “How to Take a Cold Shower.”

Wait. Take the cold shower at night, not first thing in the morning when everything will just be even colder. As soon as you’re done with the shower, you can get straight into your nice, warm bed.
Exercise. Go for a run. Or a bike ride. Or, if you’re living in a South American mega-city, do a bunch of push-ups and sit-ups in your room. The point is to get hot and sweaty so a cold shower doesn’t seem like such torture after all.
Pray. Or, if you’re not into that type of thing, meditate. Do something to get yourself ready for the challenge ahead. A cold shower is never something that should be sudden or spontaneous. If you aren’t prepared, you’ll be in for a rude awakening (if you think about it, that’s basically what a cold shower is….)
Once you’re ready and disrobed, step into the shower before you turn on the water. Once you’re in, turn the water on all the way to get it over with – think about it, if you know the pool is cold, you don’t stick your toe in and slowly submerge yourself. Instead you dive right into the deep end. (This is the worst part, but you probably already guessed that).
Once you’re good and soaked, turn the water off. It’s not going to help anything if it’s just running while you’re standing there soaping yourself up. Getting nice and soapy isn’t too bad – the soap is actually kind of an insulator.
Rinse off. The same way as before, turn the water on all the way and stand directly under it. Don’t sell yourself short, subject yourself totally to the cruelty of the water in all of its frigid glory for longer than you think is necessary. There’s nothing worse than finishing a cold shower, starting to dry yourself off, and then seeing a mound of suds in your armpit and realizing you have to do it over again.
Dry. If you’re able to dry yourself with a soft, warm freshly washed, towel, do so. But if you have access to nice, toasty, recently washed and machine-dried towels, chances are you’re probably not in a place that you’d have to take a cold shower in the first place…
Jump into your cozy, warm bed. Congratulate yourself on being super hardcore. Give yourself a pat on the back for decreasing your ecological footprint, saving energy and water. If you’re me, take comfort in the fact that you won’t have to do this again for (at least) another 3 or 4 days!!!