A Test of Faith June 13, 2009

We´re born with pure uninhibited naiveté but most learn quickly that not everyone has our best interests in mind; not all smiles are genuine and not all flowers are sweet.  The matter becomes how we travel the fine line between skepticism and optimism.  How do we reconcile the two? Do we choose to be skeptics or optimists?

What Happens when our Optimism Wanes

Most of the unfortunate anecdotes of the backpacker are no different wherever you are and they are certainly not unique to travelers alone.  To date, I´ve had more mishaps in my own country than while on the road.  But nonetheless, the general theory is to proceed with caution.  Make no assumptions and be vigilant.  We all apply this theory, not only to strangers, but romances, colleagues, and corporations.

The majority of “traveling perils” are relatively inconsequential in the grander scheme.  They usually involve a snatched backpack, camera, or wallet.  The stolen backpack happened about a week ago, to a friend of mine, his thief known to him.  However, he loaded his remaining belongings into a rice sack, thankful for the lighter load, spirit intact.  In an age where many are victims of their possessions, it is refreshing to learn that we are not our “things” and I admired him for the grace in which he handled the situation.

Later that afternoon, I realized that it was my spirit that wasn´t intact.  The lingering feelings were not of fear, but of skepticism, distrust and lack of faith in the goodness of others.  The weariness of always having to look over your shoulder, and assume the worst.  Although these stories are not very common, it´s exhausting to realize that many see you as prey, a walking bank account, a victim; eventually the entire episode had made me furious.

Choosing Optimism

With those thoughts ever circling in your mind, how to you really find the genuine hearts?  Throughout the afternoon I thought a lot about this before I came to more solid conclusions.  There are far more genuine hearts, and it´s only the few which spread doubt within us.  And more importantly, only I choose to become an embittered traveler.  There are far more who give than take advantage.  And throughout my time here there have been countless outreaching hands, far exceeding those with poor intentions.

I was raised, not with blind faith in the world, but that you cannot find true goodness with suspecting eyes.  It is our optimism which saves us.  Without it we consume ourselves with doubt and judgement and we cannot open ourselves to the wonderful gifts that people offer.  In seeking ugliness, we rarely find beauty.

Have a heart that never hardens, A temper that never tires, A touch that never hurts.  -C. Dickens

“Intention with Integrity” — A Lesson in Diligence, Awareness, and Hope May 29, 2009

In.teg.ri.ty  I. the quality or state of being complete; unbroken condition; wholeness; entirety.  II. soundness  III. honesty, sincerity

There´s always space in our lives to explore new landscapes and broaden our view.  During a fantastic week with my sister and brother-in-law, among the breathtaking mountains of Ecuador, we had the beautiful chance meeting of a 72 year old woman, Estelle Myers.  At first glance, she seemed an oddity among the mass of young hostel dwellers but within minutes I realized she possessed a very special mind and spirit worth capturing.

Midwife to Gaia

Her resume in and of itself leaves me humbled, yet none of herself is pretentious.  She has spent a lifetime introducing concepts of positive energy fields, collective consciousness, empowerment of women and overall social and world awareness.  Her enthusiasm and heart are enough to fill a room with awe – the collective stories of a woman who fearlessly presented her ideas to skeptical ears, a teacher far ahead of her time.  Her journey brought her through trials and triumphs – two marriages, the struggles of reaching an unresponsive audience and introducing topics largely unaccepted; and now, after television and radio programs, travels around the world, a memoir that could have been released “no sooner or later,” she completed her PhD at age 72 (in her opinion – “it´s a lot of crap really” but hopefully enough to open blinded eyes).

As a gift to herself, she traveled to Ecuador and into our lives.  “There are no chance meetings, only positive energies which attract one another.”  She spoke of very simple yet grand ideas.  Living more simplistically, having patience and being open-minded.  That merely using the word “but” demeans everything previous and closes off means for real non-judgemental exchanges; that collective empowerment of groups, particularly women, must begin within the individual.

No Chance Meeting

After our brief meeting in Cotopaxi, Ecuador, I happened upon her again in Hostal Belmont, Quito – a nice respite with private rooms and baths (albeit cold showers).  Over vodka oranges and facials she recounted her last few days – a 700 meter climb up the waterfalls in Baños, which had given her “a bad case of the sniffles,” an upset stomach from “the fresh fish I couldn´t resist,” and the couple who helped her withdraw cash after all her money and cards had been stolen.  To Estelle, the maladies were inconsequential and the broad smile never left her face.  She only spoke of the deliciousness of the trout, the kindness of her fellow travelers, and the beauty of the cascade (“Those 20-somethings thought the old lady with the white halo wouldn´t make it!”).  And she couldn´t stop showing me her fabulous, one-of-a-kind rainbow jumper (“I´ll just roast in this in Australia.  Isn´t it so cool?).

She sent me on my way with kisses, a hearty laugh, and with far more wisdom than I came.  That our generation has the strength to bring her dreams to fruition, that some will always resist change but with every person who persists or defies the norm, there is progress.  And together our like energies will eliminate complacency and create a stimulus for change.

We can all benefit from her lessons and optimism.  We must realize that we can all be pioneers in our own way.  There is always time to do more, go back to school, to find a playmate (her next quest), to see something new, or to be a part of something bigger.   And to make a commitment to “Intention with Integrity”.

*Estelle Myer´s Memoir, Midwife to Gaia, Birthing Global Consciousness, to be released in August, 2009*

For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it.  For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it.  For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it. -Ivan Panin

The Transient Who Spoke Little Spanish: 2+2=5(The Aftermath) May 20, 2009

In an attempt to answer my initial questions, I found more.  And my work in Máncora became much more complicated, a community where the traditional algorithm seldom applies.

Assessment 2009: A look into the heart of Máncora

My time in Máncora and project with Para el Mundo was much different than I had originally expected, and far from my comfort zone in the clinical realm of health.  It wasn´t about diarrhea campaigns or tacking drugs and alcohol.  It was a cultural lesson into the ¨why´s¨ and ¨how´s¨ of the community.

Defining ¨Health¨

We started with community leaders – what does ¨health¨ mean to them?  The array of answers spanned every topic from good schools and public safety to less respiratory illness and better health care access.  And then we took our list to the community.  We went to every barrio and asked them the ¨why´s¨ and the ¨how´s¨ and the barriers.  The process of discovering what all this information means, its consequences and actually creating sustainable change will take lifetimes.  Some solutions are obvious and straight forward, yet highly implausible; some issues seem solvable, but the population unreachable.   And after analyzing and asking and researching and brainstorming (and many written pages), we´ve recorded what we know, what we still don´t know, and what we need to do next.  And with any luck, a path for every person who wants to see this community thrive.

Knowledge to Create Change

My five months in Máncora were absorbed in knowing who the people really are, with the hope that the next volunteer won´t need to look so far.  Some of my discoveries were sad -  that domestic violence may always be something that causes this community to suffer.  But alternatively, women do crave change for themselves and their children.  At the same time, our discoveries were invaluable cultural lessons.  That fulfillment and happiness isn´t always about the things you have but rather who you have and what you make of your situation.  It was a journey into the spirit of this town, and how fascinating.  The cynical observer to an optimist and lover.  A community with strong family values and tradition, with heart and pizzaz.  And ultimately, the lessons I wanted to give them, they gave to me.

Turning the Page

As I cross over into Ecuador, pursing my nomadic dream, I send love and kisses to all of the gracious souls who have helped create an unforgettable experience.  Those who have encouraged me to live more openly and try new things.  I carry your stories, your laughs, and your wisdom.

And the sojourn continues…next step?  I´ll let you know.

A Deeper Look into Peru´s Health Care System: The Appendectomy April 12, 2009

First and foremost, to all the gracious and loving people in my life, I send warmest kisses and embraces this Easter Sunday.  The surprise send-off of my appendix and confusion due to fever and pain killers has prevented my contacting many of you, so I send apologies if this is the first you´ve heard of the week´s anecdote.  Here´s how is goes…

A Mysterious Pain, An Unlikely Diagnosis

The general health of all persons in the volunteer house was as follows- of 8 current house mates, 7 had moderate to severe diarrhea, some on antibiotics, a new upper respiratory illness, occasional fevers.  Although I was the loan sheep, feeling moderately guilty for my clean bill of health, I had a lingering feeling that this state was only transient.

So on Tuesday morning, the cramp underneath my ribs wasn´t really alarming – I was joining the ranks of the ill.  It held pretty steady and by noon it was also in the ¨appendix area.¨  Then spread the general sense of ¨ugh¨.  Meanwhile, I was in clinic doing my twentieth medical history and my poor partner had already had more bowel movements than patients, and was close to fainting from dehydration.  It didn´t feel appropriate to say, ¨Oh, I´m sorry you´re near death, but did I tell you I have a right-sided cramp and feel like ugh?¨

It progressed into my afternoon siesta and instead of diarrhea, I developed a whine.  My roomate Mary suggested appendicitis in a whispered, nervous tone but surely appendicitis was more dramatic than this?  There was no screaming, or searing pain, or vomiting?  Eventually, I went to the clinic on the insistence of Gaby, my coordinator, feeling like kind of a weeny.

After the consult I had some blood work…it didn´t look too bad but we did the ultrasound anyhow.  And there she was wobbling around on the black and white screen, all aggravated.  Diagnosis:  Appendicitis.

Surgery in a Developing Country

Mancora doesn´t have any surgical facilities, so I went 3 hours south to Piura, where I met my super cute surgeon, Dr. Espinoza.  Mary had the honors of notifying Mom and Dad.  She laid things out slowly and assuredly, to which my Mom´s response was ¨OK…OK…,¨ similar to her response when I told her I was planning on upending my life and moving to South America.  I would have preferred a post-operative phone call to assuage the parental nerves, but Gaby insisted that we call before, por si acaso (just in case).  That was probably my only moment of legitimate fear.

So I was a little tentative when I rolled into the OR, and took a look around to make sure everything was kosher – then a combination of fever and anesthesia turned everything on the shelves into bottles of orange Fanta and I woke up in recovery.

My Post-Operative Stay at Clinica San Miguel

The first day passed in a delirium of fever and angry thirst.  Although this sounds dramatic, I really have never been that thirsty in my entire life.  As my dear mother knows, I can be a challenging patient, and I heckled the nurse until she let me ¨wet my mouth.¨ I took 3 gulps, which I think ticked her off and then she took it away from me.  Later I had to pee and they wouldn´t let me up.  They all stood around waiting for me to use the bedpan…and I really tried but I got so nervous I had to make everyone leave the room.

Bless my sweetest Gaby, she helped me through that day.  Nurses kept asking me questions, and usually about half way through my eyes glazed over and then she´d translate for me…¨Abbey, they want to know if you pooped,¨ and so on.  The remainder of the day I stared out the window at the palm trees and imagined I was Yossarian, the wounded soldier from Catch-22, in a military ward on the island of Pianosa.  Needless to say, my mind was a mad whirl.

Day 2 post-op I came back to life, and Mary came to hang out with me.  I was grateful to be lucid again, walking to the toilet, and eating!

Side Bar:  Peru´s Most Fantastic Treat, the BOLO.  The bolo is wonderful frozen magic in a popsicle shaped baggy that people sell out of their homes for only 20 centimos (6 cents) and come in a variety of flavors like maracuya (passion fruit), mango, coconut, or mani (peanut buttery love).  I try to eat at least one per day to keep my spirits high.

Although it was outside ¨the recommended diet¨ I was thrilled when Mary said she´d located this special treat and that the nurse would allow me to take a jaunt in the courtyard.  Unfortunately, I squirted mani bolo juice all over my white johnny, giving myself away.  I think it was worth it though.

The ¨Mani Bolo¨

The Aftermath:  New Woman, Sin Appendix

You´ll be happy to know that a Peruvian appendectomy is very reasonably priced, the fentanyl (my anesthetic) only 7 dollars, and the hospital bed was similar to a reasonably priced hostel.  My incisions are quite aesthetically pleasing and Gaby thinks I still have a shot at America´s Next Top Model (I told you she was sweet).  And Peru, for any bad rap it may get, does a knock-out job with appendectomies and I am back in sunny Mancora, following my post-op diet ¨mas or menos¨ (more or less) and enjoying a pretty nice Sunday.  The adventure continues.

I reckon being ill as one of the great pleasures of life, provided one is not too ill and is not obliged to work till one is better.  -Samuel Butler

Anti-American Sentiment – Facts and Fiction March 20, 2009

Being American around the world has its disadvantages.  Many of the brazen moves and hasty decisions that a few of our nation´s leaders have made in the last decade, reflect quite badly on the everyday citizen.  And in reality because the U.S. is a nation that holds much of the world´s power, we are, in turn, scrutinized by much of the world.  And in the quest for domination we´ve become arrogant and intrusive, attempting to mold other nations to our liking, ignorant to their needs and culture.  Unfortunately, the we, is such a minute percentage of our nation as a whole, and this is clearly punctuated by the staggering disapproval and demand for change.

Having traveled during the heat of Bush´s presidency four years ago, I discovered that anti-American sentiment was alive around the world.  Some reveal it subtly and others with fervor – punctuating our ignorance, our arrogance.  Inevitably, this left me meek in declaring my U.S. citizenship abroad.

While the large majority receive American travelers genuinely and without bias, there are some who still challenge.  But in truth, the arguments and accusations are equally as ignorant.  I am here to give to your community, to experience your world, and know the challenges you face day in and day out. Excuse me? I am an American, but like any other human being, I seek the same things:  family, opportunity, security, adventure, love.

Through a frank conversation with another traveler, I acknowledged the urgency of resolving these feelings.  He challenged me – ¨Why would you use a hushed tone in introducing yourself as American?  You don´t ever have to defend your nationality.  You are not Bush and how dare anyone assume that.¨

Proud to be an American

It was interesting food for thought.  I didn´t want to absorb myself in the negative remarks, but I had validated them by altering how I approached the subject of my nationality.  The U.S. is a country with boundless gifts: a democracy that, though dysfunctional at times, allows freedom of opinion, equal opportunity for women, and many luxuries that are beyond many´s imagination.  And growing up with modest means, I had a great education, great health care, and independence to choose my path in life.

I owe this fantastic opportunity, not only as a tribute to my amazing friends and nurturing family, but to my country.  I´m proud to be an American.

Our task must be to widen our circle of compassion, to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.   -Albert Einstein

Ecuador: Beautiful Country, Great People, Sweet Trip February 28, 2009

Shying away from the sentimental, I´ll chart my scrappy hostel to hostel travels into the Ecuadorian highlands.

Quito, Ecuador: February 13, 2009 – February 16, 2009

After an exhausting 20 hour bus ride we (me and my Mancorian comrad, Shana) arrived in Old Town, a rustic neighborhood in Quito, and to a cozy hostel overlooking the city.  While in the city, we toured a bit, saw the markets in Otovallo, a beautiful church with a gorgeous gold interior and frightening mural of hell, entitled ¨the inferno…¨

A Note on Hostel Living

The abundance of hammocks, dormitories, and communal drinking and dining, makes the hostel an ideal environment to meet amazing people from all around the world, to have adventures with complete strangers that become instant friends.  It´s brilliant!

Cotopaxi, Ecuador: February 16, 2009 – February 18, 2009

2 hours south of Quito, Cotopaxi has beautiful countryside with rolling hills, a massive snow-capped volcano (one of the highest in Ecuador), and complete seclusion.

No Immunity to Altitude

A group of us took a trek to the refuge at the base of Cotopaxi at 4,800 meters (almost 16,000 feet).  Yes, altitude sickness is not a myth.  The air has a murkiness to it…headache, queasiness, your lungs feel like the size of your fists…and then you have to hike.  However, you´ll be excited to know, I survived! 

Cotopaxi

Baños

Cuenca

Riobamba

Quito

Vilcabamba

Baños, Ecuador: February 19, 2009 – February 21, 2009

Super cute town, tucked in the Andean mountains, a bit touristed, but then again, I´m a tourist, no?  Sent Shana on her plane back to the States and found an awesome group of Brits and Australians to take a horseback ride with – once again, incredible landscape – waterfalls, saw my first smoking volcano!…not experienced in the saddle, though, which meant full body pain for the next 3 days.  However, absolutely worth it!

Note:  Baños = baths, or hotspring I guess, and also toilets.  Baños is known for their baths, not toilets.  I was disappointed to realize that the baths were a complex of really hot swimming pools, but other than aggravating my chafed inner thighs, it was a nice remedy for the sore muscles.

February 21, 2009: Notable Day! 

This particular Saturday marked two momentous birthdays for two of my favorite people!  My Dad, 60 and Sarah, 30!  I was really sad to be so far away – that evening, though, a friend pointed to the first star in the sky and told me to make a  wish.  It reminded me of Momma Lizzy´s words: Whenever we feel far apart, we´ll both wish on the brightest star, and we´ll always be together.  So I suppose time and distance can never really separate you from those special people.  Happy Birthday, my loves!!!

Riobamba, to Cuenca, Ecuador: February 21, 2009 – February 23, 2009

In Riobamba, took a scenic train to ´Nariz del Diablo.´It´s known for the roof seats but due to rain (and possibly a previous decapitation??) we stayed dry and safe inside.

Cuenca – Closed For Carnaval?

Cuenca is a pretty colonial city in the central/southern highlands.  It has an authentic feel…and, 96% of the city was closed…boarded restaurants, closed breweries and cafes.  The only remaining activity was to walk the streets looking for a something that was open.  Carnaval drew most people outside the city and to coastal Montanita for the festivities.  With that said, there was no shortage of water balloons chucked from pick-ups, buckets of water dumped from roofs…and I walked around for 2 days with a nervous tick.

Picky Eater – Seek Elsewhere

Dodging silly-string and confetti, we found an open restaurant – first course, soup.  Tastes like chicken, green onions, has mini chips on top…and then the chicken´s feet.  A pair of them sliding around in the remaining broth.  And that´s when I moved to the second course.  Gross.

Vilcabamba, Ecuador: February 24, 2009 – February 25, 2009 (Last Stop)

Vilcabamba is a perfect place to disappear.  It sits in the Andes, no Internet, no expectations.  A perfect end to my mini-break.

Buses, Borders, and Men in Uniform

In two weeks I put in over 49 hours of bus time – a lot of body parts gone numb, sweaty children in my lap, vendors swarming the bus at each stop ¨chifles! chifles! chifles!,¨ and men with bazookas who looked at my passport for a really long time.  The details of border crossing are complicated and involved several taxis, obscure customs offices about 8 km apart, and a walk through the the border, which couples as a market.  Only the end result is important – I eventually made it through to Peru.

And it feels good to be back in Mancora, with clean laundry, and a more permanent home.  The only tragedies:  lost sweatshirt, 1 sunburn, and was ripped off a couple of times.  Friends: 5 Australians, 1 Austrian, 4 Americans, 3 Germans, 1 Ecuadorian, 2 Argentinians, 3 Brits.  And a priceless experience.

The world connects not by molecules.  It connects through ideas, hopes, faces, dreams, actions, stories, and memories. – Barrie Sandord Greiff

The Traveler: Lucidity or Confusion? February 20, 2009

I don´t necessarily know where the traveling itch originated or ¨why?¨ for any reason deeper than…what now?  How about a change?  On my mini-break to Ecuador I landed in Quito (after a 20 hour bus ride re-routed due to a landslide) and then in a beautiful countryside at the base of Cotopaxi, a volcano, and one of the largest in Ecuador at 5,897 meters.  While I was attracted by the sheer numbers, and the recommendation of other travelers seeking the same grandeur, I started to gather part of my own motivations for seeking the adventure.

Similarities, Differences

I met an Australian, born and raised in Sydney, a Buddhist, from a Chilean mother.  Demographically we shared nearly nothing in common.  But over the course of my stay, there developed not only appreciation, but commonalities between her and I.  She a florist, me a PA?  Yet our desires aren´t so different, beliefs aren´t so different, and our call isn´t so different either.

The experience of a traveler isn´t always comfortable - physically, emotionally or otherwise; but it is almost always defining.  Defining, not always through answers, but usually through questions.  At one point in time, there is comfort in knowing what you´re made of – a hundred piece puzzle.  But what about the things you never considered?  That you´re made of 1000 pieces…and you have no idea where they fit.  It lots of ways it´s confusing, and lonely.  And maybe you´re asking questions that you never wished you had. 

There´s a charming, challenging, and amazing feeling in all of this too.  It´s fascinating!  That I have a lifetime to answer these questions, that the questions change, the answers change, pieces are lost and there are always some to resolve.  And in knowing that there are so many parallels between myself and an Australian Buddhist, that we live the same things, and have the same fears…it makes the world seem a bit smaller…and also a world bigger.

2 plus 2 equals 5 January 28, 2009

In two weeks time, I´ve slowly nestled into this sleepy town, and discovered things both transforming and spectacular.

The Trap of the Preconceived Notion

When I landed in Peru, I knew that I had to set aside all of my misconceptions.  In order to aid or advance a community in any capacity, you have to know it without judgement.  What motivates them?  What scares them?  What do they believe?  What do they love?

Unfortunately, within one day of my arrival, I had an artillery of stories and stats…all pointing toward the decline of this town.  1 in 5 adolescents is pregnant before age 18, domestic violence is a social norm, HIV and AIDS is widely stigmatized and most are fearful of testing.  People don´t use soap, waste disposal is insufficient or inadequate, unventilated kitchens result in respiratory infections, drug and alcohol abuse affects a large percentage of the population.

And I used that as a way to situate myself in a seat of superiority.  Poor Mancora, they don´t have a clue.  I have it so easy.  How can I give them what I have?

Seeing the World with New Eyes

I assisted in a delivery last week.  The mother was 19 and she was laboring quietly in an empty room, without monitors, without anesthesia, and without the bustle of six nurses and technicians.  She delivered a little girl with two encouraged pushes, in the most graceful and serene manner, and despite all the wonders of modern medicine.  She lay there exhausted, and she glowed.  And in that moment, I realized that I had neglected much in getting to know this town.

After that experience, I embraced a community with fibers tightly woven.  I heard the laughing and playing in the streets, I saw the comraderie, the pride, and the strong family ties – not in the context of a community that needed to be fixed, or of campaigns that needed to be started:  a community that deserved a great amount of respect.  A people that stood grounded in their culture, their religion, and their families.

And as I open a new chapter, with new eyes and a new heart, I am humbled, gracious and thankful.

What´s the Recipe for Good Health?

It´s natural to find disparities and compare them to a more priveleged country.  But does priveledge and first world commodities translate to better health or living a better life?  And amid the expectations, the neuroses, the mad dash to do more and to do it better – did we forget ¨being¨ among all the ¨doing?¨ 

I was introduced to Mancora through the scope of its problems.  And though many of them are great, there is a feeling of contentment and a warmth that emanates from so many faces.  They thrive despite their barriers and find song in a situation that most would scorn.  Maybe health isn´t a compilation of epidemics, rapid assessments, and treatments.  Maybe it´s an attitude.

 

the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.  

-Marcel Proust

Mancora – little pueblo, big problems January 18, 2009

My Arrival

The bus arrived two hours late, and our program coordinators, Gaby and Julio, were nowhere in sight…they expected the bus four hours late.   Meera and I poked out our gringa heads hoping to be noticed by the appropriate party, but no one claimed us.  Meanwhile, approximately 39 mototaxis tried to pick us up, and despite the sunglasses I was wearing, 8 Mancorian men tried to sell me a second  pair.  So we decided to go with the 40th mototaxi and luckily our driver knew the exact location of  ‘Casa de Calsado.’  Casa de Calsado, my new home for the upcoming months, is relatively well serviced with big volunteer bed rooms, wireless internet, an impressive book exchange, and running water (just don’t swallow it).  The atmosphere is quite tranquil and friendly, and it seems like a nice place to call home for the moment.

The Town

Mancora is a fascinating place with a myriad of problems.  This town of 12.000 people was plopped on top of a beach with little city planning or regard for things like drainage, waste management, or sewage systems.  Running water is relatively novel, but no one understands that it’s completely unsafe for drinking.  So most Mancorians have diarrhea 99% of the time.  Flushing toilets, while also fantastic, are dysfunctional, and the sewage has an unknown destination…so I’m not going to open my mouth when I go swimming.  Drainage – there’s been rain most nights…the streets immediately flood, becoming mud baths.  There’s nowhere for the rain to go…so people just slosh through the mud, and kids freely pee AND play in it. 

The Mancorian Mentality

As an American, most of us are accustomed to schedules.  People have expectations for us and us for them.  Change - the will for change, the demand for change.  It’s America’s platform.

A 9 to 5 work day? A 40 hour work week?  It simply doesn’t exist here.  Appointments are more like “guidelines” and forget about expectations.  There aren’t doctors at the clinic today? ok.  Every street is flooded? ok.  There’s some variety of mayhem and there are no police who care? ok.  It is what it is. 

So as a volunteer in this community – where the hell do you start??

Mancora – Juxtaposed

And this peruvian town, one step up from chaos, is a tourist attraction.  You can stay in a really nice hostel or hotel.  You can eat great food – italian, mexican, authentic peruvian cuisine, seafood.  You can lie on the beach all day drinking beer, or pisco sours, or margaritas.  You can surf, horseback ride, hang out at any one of 50 bars.  And this tourist town sits on the same infrastructure as the rest of the town.  And it thrives.  The whole thing is beyond my scope of reason.

So now, how does a gringa fit into a community like Mancora?  I’ve spend the last 7 days trying to rap myself around these realities.  And accepting that the mere concept of change is very elusive.  That progress can only come through patience, slow methodical movements, and in relishing small victories.

Next:  The organization, PaM (Para el Mundo)

far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.  -Theodore Roosevelt

Lost in Translation January 13, 2009

My five days in Lima passed rather swiftly, with a lot of exploration on foot, and with no direction or destination.  My first day in Lima led me to Cecilia’s doorstep:

Cecilia Bonita – my program (Para el Mundo) director is currently living in the city, and is stretched far beyond her means.  She works full-time in communication, while raising her two young grandchildren, and tries to maintain a relationship with the organization between her other passion, writing.  Despite the challenges, her spirit is bright.  The one certainty in her life that she is destined to serve others.  She radiates promise, she’s quirky, scattered, passionate, and hopeful.  How beautiful!

My second day in Lima, I went on another scattered tour of the city with Cecilia’s nephew, Juan Carlos, a native Peruvian who speaks no english.  He speaks in a unique mumble/slur that was completely incomprehendable to me.  I have found that the most frustrating things with the language barrier is my complete inability to convey emotion.  So much meaning is lost in translation.  I actually have a sense of humor, occasionally.  However, Juan Carlos now knows me as the girl whose favorite word is, pardoname?  Needless to say, the day was a challenge and I used so much brain power that I had to take an immediate siesta upon returning home.

Oltursa to Mancora

Meera, another volunteer came to Lima to take the 17 hour bus ride with me to Mancora.  Amazingly, it was the most comfortable bus I’ve ever ridden.  I looked up from my book at one point, about 2 hours into the voyage, up at an sandy looming landslide, and down to the pacific ocean about a thousand feet below, as the bus was swerving past another car and into an oncoming bus in the opposite lane.   I sometimes get this feeling of pending doom on flights, when the airplane hits turbulence…that I will certainly die, and I immediately think of all of the things that I’d forgotten to do before my untimely demise.  This moment on the bus was relatively similar, and three-fold.  So I promptly took twice the recommended ambien dose and fell into a serene dream.

Upcoming….pictures (if I can figure out how to download them)…and my arrival in Mancora.

may your luggage be as light as your problems.  -Cecilia Barreto