Let the Celebration Begin!

This time, the party is for all the mothers! Que lindo. The students at our school spent the last week preparing for today, a giant celebration for Mother´s Day (Dia de la Madre).

Each grade prepared some sort of musical performance to honor their mothers, in addition to the posters hanging outside each classroom. Although some of their song choices were puzzling (Michael Jackson´s Thriller...whaaa??) , all of the groups were entertaining.

Here are some photos highlighting the day:

As nothing started at 10 as promised, Matthew and I had time to see the posters for the mothers outside each class. Here is the project I helped the 5-year-olds complete Wednesday. It was very involved, including coloring the mom´s skin SKIN COLOR (not pink or orange) using horizontal and vertical lines ONLY, gluing pieces of colored paper and gems to the skirts, then gluing the mom to another piece of colored paper.

The fifth graders wanted to dance to Thriller and their teachers appealed to Matthew for dance instructions. Here he is trying to enlighten them yesterday with moves he learned on youtube. (Reportedly, no one has seen the video.)

Here are the kids dancing today, in full costume...still lacking cohesive coreography. A for effort, though. They opened the scene with tombstones and fit three kids in one small box!

The tenth graders did a traditional dance. Very coordinated, very impressive. At one point the girls were like bulls, charging towards the red blanket.

Then, they were spun out and back in to the boys with whips. The dance ended with one pair dancing and a contender fighting for her. While they were busy, a third boy carried her away!

For the finale, a photo from another school program. Our "sobrina" is the one on her toes. The four-year-olds required extensive costuming for 3 minutes of jumping around!

So, that´s how we celebrated Mother´s Day at school. Not surprisingly, we heard that Sunday will be full of parties and beer. Mom, don´t worry, I´ll have one for you!

P.S. If you´re confused about the first photo, it comes from the first grade´s poster for the mothers. Many of the images honoring mothers that I have seen involve an infant nursing. I´m not completely sure why...but I think it´s better than using the song one class was learning...it included lyrics about mom sweeping the floor and taking out the garbage. hrm.

cuy and the question of a lifetime

We are currently experiencing a nice pleasant blue sky Sunday (great for laundry) and what better thing to do than make a blog post.

The other day, I am not sure which day, just the other day. Sara and I got an invite to visit Azul ("blue") Wasi("house" in Quechua). It´s a blue house that is home to 12 orphans or abandadoned boys on the outskirts of town. We had a bit of trouble finding it at first, but lucky for us, Sara is kinda a celebrity in town and some of her admirerers (students) started shouting her name to say hello and told us where to find it. We were greeted by a resident of the house who gave us a tour. It is a program that is completely funded by a private donor and frequently has extraneros volunteer there (when we visited there were two gringos, Matthew from Iowa and some other guy from the Holland). I am going to visit again tomorrow (Monday) to talk to the jefe ("boss") and probably help some kids with homework and play some soccer.

I do not have any photos of Azul Wasi so here is a photo of a cow we passed on the way there

One occurance that is always a bit odd while traveling is that when I meet a white person, it does not mean he or she speaks English, so when we met the volunteers at Azul Wasi we spoke the whole time in Spanish, even after we knew the other Matthew was from Iowa. It was fun and I actually knew what was being said.

Ok fast-forward to yesterday.

We ended up attending another accidental party. We went to visit the house of Elias to possibly purchase a charango (see the Music Stuffs post). We arrived and were told it is his wife´s birthday, and we all know that Peruvians love their birthday parties, and this one was no exception. We were given Chica (a fermented corn beer), wine, and coke mixed with beer, but best of all we got to try our very first cuy (guinea pig). The former vegetatian Sara dug right in and started with the innards (heart and other organs) and was picking meat off the rib bones in no time flat. It was actually pretty good but the skin was a little rough to eat. We ate the whole thing with our fingers (the only way to do it). The only part that bothered me was seeing the claws...and I was lucky enough to get a head as well. We liked it so much we are going to eat it again on May 12 for Elias´s birthday.

And now the question of all questions.

This is what I look at everyday, a real head scratcher

Since living in Oropesa I have been renting a room. In this room is my bed and next to my bed is the back side of a desk (the front side faces Sara´s bed and separates our "rooms") to make this desk a bit more pleasant to look at, it is covered with a blanket with a picture of Papa Noel. The question I ponder every night before I sleep is this: Why is Papa Noel telling us to be quiet, with a finger to his lips, while he is also holding onto a bell? That just seems silly, Papa Noel.

And since I do not have many photos to share on this post, here is one of the Incan king and me dancing.

Green Space

Yesterday Matthew and I went on a little adventure. Although I would have been perfectly happy hanging out in the Plaza eating ice cream or going back to the house to write, I am glad that I am here with this curious boy. I get to see so much.

Our walk wasn´t extremely exciting or anything (at least not in comparison to what we´ve been doing...), but it was nice to see part of Oropesa that we had somehow missed. We just headed up a street that runs along the side of the cathedral and kept going up and up and up. First, we came upon yet another church. We peeked through the doors and saw some of the giant figures that are part of the pre-Easter procession. It was creepy. Then, we found a field which apparently seems designated for trash dumping, we´re not really sure what else. Yes, it´s garbage, but I love all the colors of these discarded school notebooks. Then up and up and up farther on a rocky road full of animal poo to a beautiful green space and a stream.

I was scared, like always. I don´t know why. I am always concerned about space, especially invading it. But everything was beautiful. Then we saw all these sheep and goats (coming down from grazing all day?)! A man followed them with a giant bundle of sticks on his back and a whip in his hand. He was so friendly! I ws afraid he only knew Quechua, but he greeted us and said it was nice that we were taking a walk. He continued on down (the sheep jumped over the stream like they were in a Serta mattress commercial!) and Matthew wanted to keep going up to see what else was there, but then a herd of noisy cattle started down from another path and that made me more nervous. Up farther in another part of the hills, we could see another group of animals heading down, too.

Continuing would have been fine, I´m sure, but we headed back down to the city safely positioned between the sheep/goat herd and the cattle, dodging poop the whole way.

The view in front of me (man with sticks, sheep, goats, and a few dogs)

The view behind me (Matthew and noisy cows)

P.S. Matthew found a real live jaw bone

making belts and washing clothes

I have an action-packed blog post for everyone, with wow factors and everything. I will start right off with something that few will believe. I just finished washing my clothes by hand. Amazing right? Why I washed my clothes by hand will remain a mystery until later.

So this past weekend Sara and I went on a different sort of adventure that was lacking dangerous hikes and climbs. We learned how to weave our own belts in a traditional Andean style! This adventure started bright and early Saturday at 6.40am. We arrived in Cusco at around 8 and started our belt crafing fun.

I have made a weaving before, but the style and technique used here is truly amazing. Everything is done by hand, from the spinning of the alpaca yarn to the building of the hand loom, to the weaving itself. The loom was made by pounding sticks into the ground like tent stakes, then lashing another stick across it to form a little box (refer to photo). Then two people sit facing each other on opposite ends of the box and throw yarn under and over the box to form a figure 8 with the yarn. They then readied the pattern for us by arranging 4 sections of pull cords (in our case bamboo) that must be pulled to seperate the top and bottom sections of yarn. I memorized my pattern almost instantly and my instructor kept joking that he was going to leave because he did not need to be there anymore. Sara on the other hand had a bit of trouble remembering her pattern (its 4-3-2-1-4-1-2-3-4, for those who might want to try and remember it for her). She kept thinking they were making fun of her in Quecha for not being able to get it, I think they were just talking about how amazing I was doing on mine, which might not be too far from the truth because they kepts stroking my belt and saying "Muy Bien" (very good).

To make the belts, we had to sit on the ground in the hot mid-day sun for four hours. We had a cactus to shade us until about 2 hours into the weaving when suddenly an umbrella magically appeared for Sara and a sign was placed next to me for some shade. We had rope tied around our waist with the belts pinned to them and the other end of the loom was a lashed stick. I got to sit on a nicely crafted slab of wood, while Sara sat on a tarp.

After four of so hours of weaving (and only finishing about 10 inches of belt) we backed up our weaving and headed to my new favorite place-Cafe Punchay, a German-owned cafe that sells massive waffles covered with sugery milk cream (I love sugery milk cream) and some really good coffee. We met our Colorado friend, Charlie, for some after-weaving breakfast/lunch. I say breakfast/lunch and not brunch because Charlie and I ate two full meals, not a mix of one. We both had a nice sandwich and a huge waffle. The newest addition to this lovely restruant is a new, very clean, kitten. This kitten was crazy and kept running around attacking anything that moved. Then it got a little too excited and released its bowels all over my shirt and crotch region of my pants. The kind barista took me to the bathroom and gave me a scrub down, both shirt and pants! I did´t even get a discount for getting shat on, but I love the sugery milk cream so much I will go back anyway.

So I am sure some have now guessed why I did some hand scrubbing on my clothes. Sundays are usually laundry days, but very few people have washers, and none have driers. Let me tell you something, washing clothes by hand in the hot sun is no easy task, scrub scrub scrub, rinse, scrub, rinse and hang. I hate it, but it saves me money, and makes me more thankful for what I have and what I would expect of someone to wash my clothes for me for just 8 soles ($2.70ish) Also once I wash my clothes I can see how brown the water turns and know how dirty they really are (something you never see using a machine).

Apparently, I am some sort of sight to behold because not only can I wash my own clothes, I can also wield a needle and thread well enough to repair some holes (which I guess is not a common male task, though most of the men here can weave and knit like no one´s buiness).

So there you have it, the action-packed blog post of weaving belts, cleaning clothes, and a cat that shat.

A Poem, and English Lessons

A Poem

The chickens are dead, but there are still flies

on the ceiling, in the wind chimes, sitting

next to my toothbrush buzzing in the morning

begging to go out the closed window.

I stretch in my bed like the animal

I tell the children I´m not. At school, they tug

on my hair, smooth their hands over my white

arms, and pull me to their classroom.

It´s a room with a dusty wooden floor,

rolls of colored paper, and a broken

cash register. They fight over the play

money, jump on the desks laughing,

and swing from the door. After they find

the ball behind the teacher´s desk and run

outside, only three remain

coloring pictures of Jesus.

I haven´t written a poem in a long time, but there´s some practice and a little insight into our volunteering at a small public school in Oropesa. It´s always a surprise how the days will go and what I learn from the children. Classroom control is usually non-existant and I feel like many times I just have to trick the children into being interested in learning. I have found that children of all ages love songs, whether it´s "Head-Shoulders-Knees-and-Toes" (which doubles as a nice little English lesson) or "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." I´m with a different group of students each day, ranging from kindergarten to fourth grade, sometimes teaching art or English, sometimes just helping out as I am able. Always interesting. Always a challenge. Two hours a day is definitely plenty for me.

and English Lessons

As Matthew said, I also started teaching Engish lessons, which is a completely different experience than volunteering at school. (And as I´m writing this, about 8 sixth-graders are asking me questions about whether I can help them with their homework and about these private lessons...so we may have more customers...) I don´t want to speak too soon, but I really enjoy the private lessons because the students are eager to learn and don´t take much prompting to copy down words, etc. Yesterday the two girls were thrilled to learn about colors, and maybe they were more eager to finish the coloring sheet I made for them, but there was definitely some enthusiasm in the room. Loved it. Above is a photo of the finished project. I took the song from an Internet website (thanks Diane!) and drew some lovely little pictures (ha!). Unfortunately, there are no plums  or cherries here, but the song still works...if only it included pink!

and an afterthought
Today is Earth Day, and we celebrated properly at school. Each class (or, each teacher) made one or two posters and we paraded around Oropesa chanting pro-earth slogans. (This is after I dragged two kids out of the classroom because they were hiding under the desks while the entire school was gathering on the playground.) We made it down the main drag, stopping traffic because of so many people walking in the road. It was like an organized event, sort of. There were police officers wearing giant costume heads, which the kids loved. The teachers hung up many of the posters on the walls around the main square.

Sounds like a good idea, but it was tainted with kids buying all sorts of snacks at the shops along the way and throwing the garbage on the ground, not to mention the typical rough-housing/smacking/punching/throwing each other down to the ground just because behavior. Unlike Monday, though, I didn´t find anyone crying because she tore off most of her fingernail. phew. I did scold the same kid three times for throwing his popsicle wrapper on the ground today of all days, when we´re celebrating the earth. Finally, he found a garbage can. I´m trying to remember that I´m not here to fix anything. I´m here to support the teachers and the students, not start a revolution. Happy e.day...wherever you are.

Music Stuffs

Going to Cusco means getting to enjoy a beautiful city with an incredible history and amazing architecture. It also means being bombarded by people who want to sell something-a massage ("ma-sa-HAY") for weary trekers, jewelry, belts, hats, and artwork. I´ve become sort of used to walking around repeating "no gracias, no gracias" over and over (and over and over...).

HOWEVER, it´s a different story with Elias Vargas. We met Elias, the host dad to our friend Charlie, when Matthew and I spent  the night before leaving for our Machu Picchu trek. (and again at  the amazing birthday party I wrote about a bit ago). He was incredibly hospitable, offering us coca tea and showing us around his workshop.

He and his brothers make beautiful instruments, including Quenas (flutes), pan pipes, and small guitars. He makes them from wood, by hand. The guitars are amazing, as they are carved from a single piece of wood. Elias eventually would like to sell his instruments in a shop, or have a website, but as of now sells them at the plaza in downtown Cusco. I hate imagining the rejection he faces each day, as not every traveler is a musican and many just want to walk down the street in peace.

 Elias´ brother-in-law is also a talented artist, making drawings and paintings in charcoal, pen, oil, and watercolors of musicans, the streets of Cusco, people in traditional dress, and alpacas. Matthew and I have already made a few purchases from Elias, a talented musican and just a very kind man in general. If you´re interested in supporting his work, Matthew and I are happy to bring or send the instruments home to the states. Let us know if you´d like any more information or photos.

 

An old photo of Elias with a piece of wood before starting to carve it into a guitar,

and early stages of the guitar process

A photo of a block of wood that he hasn´t begun, with a guitar-in-progress sitting on top of it.

(Finished product in first photo.Each guitar is a little different, some painted, some burned, all beautiful.)

This is what the Quenas look like. Some have actual condor bones for the mouthpiece.

**I tried 3 times to upload a video of the talented Elias playing both the pan pipes and guitar. Unfortunately, my camera ran out of space for the video before he finished the song. Trust me, the finale was amazing. Will try on another computer another day...**

The Country Life

We are now all recovered from days of celebration and long hikes to ancient ruins. It has been a couple of weeks since our adventure to Machupicchu, our hiking friends have moved on to other adventures while we have stayed behind in the small, semi-isolated town of Oropesa. We are now one and a half weeks into straight volunteering at the school, with only a few lapsed trips to Cusco. Adapting to rural (I know thats a hard word to pronounce but you can do it) life can be a challenge at times and never fails to surprise.

 

Now looking back on my JV year, I realize my ideas of simplicity were a joke. I tried to shorten my shower time to less than 10 minutes everyday, with hot water. I only rode my bike for non-work related activites, and spent very little money, only visiting the local watering hole (coffee shop) once or twice a week. And only sent about 300 text messages a week, give or take.We also tried to buy local food.

 

Here in Oropesa if I want to set up a meeting with friends, it must be prearranged, as cell phones generally do not exist. Looking back on life, it´s really hard for me to remember the days of pre-arranged meetings. Maybe those were the days of elementary school when I walked to my friends house and see if he was around to play, or used a can on a sting. Our showers are with only cold water and are always less than 10 minutes. There is no coffee here, and all meals must be prepared with food grown nearby the town, within walking distance (mind you this is walking distance for we fit folk of South America). Peru also has a huge advantage, with soils and climates that can grow about anything. We do not have bikes and our cell phone is mostly used as a kinda-fancy clock. What is really the amazing thing of this rural lifestyle is that its not a simple life, its just life, and I enjoy the peacefulness of it. I challenge everyone to take just one evening, shower with cold water, make a simple meal, light the house with a candle, and turn the power off on American life.

 

Similar story of a different kind. Sara has started teaching some English classes, leaving me along to dwindle my time. Yesterday, I braved the plaza of Oropesa and started to draw the buildings surrounding me. I was off to a good start, semi-alone to make some progress with my drawing. Then, two Peruvians from a ways southwest of here were visiting Oropesa to buy bread and sat their items next to me to take some photos. I was listening to my ipod, in the drawing zone, until I realized I was being asked to have my photo taken with each of the travelers (I should have said for one sol). They left town, leaving me with a little breathing room again. Then I was swarmed by kids looking over my shoulder asking me questions about my drawing, where I am from, how much my ipod cost. I respond, I am from Illinois, do you know Illinois, they say no, Do you know Chicago? they say no, Do you know Obama, they say no, Do you know of the United States, they say no. I am surprised and end up saying I am from north of here. I never thought I would be living in a town with residents who have never heard of the United States. By the time I completed my drawing, kids were asking me for my signature.

 

 

On a completely seperate note, Check out this mustache. Its pretty wicked I think.