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June 21, 2017

It is now less than 48 hours before I leave my home for nearly two months to venture into the unknown with 14 other Fulbright-Hays scholars. There's laundry waiting to be folded and organized, then it'll be either packed or placed back in it's home where I'll see it again in August. Currently, as I am listening to the Hamilton soundtrack, the idea of identity and how so much of the external factors we encounter affect our identity just shouts to me as where I want to focus my studies during this trip. 

For each participant, the product of this trip is to create stand-alone lessons, about ten or so, that can be taught in succession or separately that utilize Peruvian culture, language, literature, art, etc. Being a theatre teacher, I'm definitely interested in seeing what Cusco has to offer in the way of performance arts. I know I'll be encountering some rituals from indigenous peoples while I'm there, as well. I've been recommended a few authors whose novels address identity from a Peruvian standpoint; I think one struggle will be to find familiar texts that I can pair with the novels or excerpts of novels for my students this year. However, who knows what I'll encounter until I get there...speaking of, I'm going to get back to that. Off packing, I go!

June 25, 2017; AM

I've spent about 36 hours in Cusco so far. First, I LOVE IT. My host mamá is so sweet, I'm living with her, her son, Piyo, her daughter, Johana, and another ECELA student, Lacy. Plus, we're actually expecting two more students, two high school boys, today! 

Today, I walked with Lacy to the market to get huge water jugs from the supermarket. On the way, she showed me where I can take my dirty clothes to get cleaned. It's been super helpful having her here. We converse in Spanish around our host mom, usually; I think it's courtesy, you know? We hop into Spanglish a little--and my Spanish has already grown just in the 36 hours I've been here. 

Second, there are so many things that I read that weren't totally true or that weren't entirely truthful. Most namely, all the consequences of changing altitudes: Altitude sickness (and if you're not into TMI, stop reading soon). I didn't get physically ill, but yesterday was terrible. I had a headache off and on most of the day. Drinking Coca Tea (leaves from the cocaine plant) helps immensely. I had three cups yesterday, and tried to stay inactive after walking to the mall with Johana and Mama. [FYI] You may be gassy if you travel to Peru--this is also because of the altitude!! Your body is used to high-pressure and so when you travel to high altitudes and there's low pressure, you're body tries to expel the gas inside you--hence, you fart. :) Totally natural and it follow's Boyles Law, but I didn't read about it at all in my prepping for this trip! I read about the headaches and such from altitude, but not about that!

Okay, so today, I'm meeting the professors and my group at Plaza de Armas at one--another post will come from that!

June 25, 2017; PM

Getting around a foreign city, when your language is really not the best, can be slightly intimidating. I decided that Plaza de Armas was too far to walk (like a mile or so) by myself, so I called an Uber (Uber has only been here for about a month or so). It went off without a hitch. The Plaza is pedestrian only, so the taxista (taxi driver) let me off at a nearby corner. As soon as I walked into the area, I realized I had no idea where in the plaza we were supposed to meet--then, of course, my brain started to go into overdrive with worry. I decided the best plan of action was to walk around the perimeter of the Plaza and just look for familiar faces. Soon enough, I saw a blonde bob and a green backpack at the top of a set of stairs in front of a huge, imposing iglesia--actually, it was more like a catedral. In the sea of brunettes, I knew that blonde hair had to belong to another member of my group, and I remembered her green bookbag! I was so relieved to see that I was right and it was my group! 

After a cursory walk through Plaza de Armas and a some surrounding streets, we split off to get some lunch. Two of the girls in my group are staying with a host family who has a restaurant and we ate there for lunch! It was SO good!! Here a few pictures from today 

These next photos are all from Plaza de Armas

June 26, 2017

I'm happy to say all the effects of altitude change on my body are gone...except now, I've acquired a head cold. It could totally be from the plane, that I traveled pretty much nonstop before coming to Cusco, or the plain fact that I may have simply picked up a bug while walking around town. Either way, I'm doing my best to not let it get me down. My professors have been incredibly supportive and when I reached out that I was feeling bad, she wrote back that she wanted to keep in touch and to let my host mama know how I was feeling. Speaking of, my host mamá, Jaqui, I LOVE HER. She's so cute and is a great cook. She is incredibly kind, funny, fixes my grammar and such, and all in all, I feel so blessed to have been placed in her house. There are three others from America, as well. One is a girl from Louisiana and is studying medicine abroad here at ECELA (the same school I attend from Spanish classes--grammar and conversation). The other two are teenaged boys from the DC area; all three are pretty chill and seem to be very easy to get along with. 

In respect to all we've been doing, I'm not sure I could adequately go into detail. I will tell you that the top of my calf, on the back, is sore from the insane amount of walking and hills. Plus, the streets and sidewalks here are typical of a developing country. This ain't Fifth Avenue, ya'll. 

On Monday, we had a placement exam--which was more like a conversation with a teacher at ECELA, the school we have partnered with. Then, we had an orientation to just go over all the stipulations, words of advice, recommendations, etc. while we are here. After our orientation, we all got into groups and rode in taxis to the US Embassy and met with the Outreach Program facilitator there, she gave us great information for emergency situations (which I hope I never have to use). We had lunch then, in this super cute, super authentic little cafe with stairs to a mezzanine section that TOTALLY would not have passed code in the US. Haha! Authentic seems to not even been accurate enough though...here, this may help paint the picture: A fellow Fulbrighter ordered "Little Foot soup" and literally got a little foot in her soup. Yeah. Not kidding. Pictures of the cafe are below. After lunch, and typically for the rest of our time here, we will have afternoon classes at the CBC (Centro Bartolomé de las Casas). It's kind of like a building with a bunch of classrooms. We had a short lecture on "The Self and Others"--basically, it was a look into how the West has typically looked at South America. Patronizing, devaluing, and incorrectly categorizing the worth of humans. I would be remiss if I didn't mention Silvia, another professor from Cusco, who came and reciting a story to us in Quechua. Of course, we didn't know she was going to do this. So Dr. E and Dr. P, I'm sure, got a grand kick out of us trying to figure out what she was saying. After the story, we had to fill out a worksheet and let me tell you...I've never been more embarrassed than this. Dr. E continued to speak to the class about how she really needed up to try our hardest to get this right and how it was important to our growth. Then, they handed out little pieces of paper with Republican party signs, Mexican flags, symbols for coal workers, and symbols for Rust belt workers. Then they tied it all together. Silvia's presentation was to help us understand how it feels to be an immigrant in the US, not understanding anything but being expected to grasp things immediately. Then, we had a large discussion upon being put into groups according to our pieces of paper. This was all tied nicely into her lecture on "The Self and Others". I don't care what side of the issue you stand on with immigration; kindness is always an option. Although, truth be told, this exercise made me feel even more strongly about my stances. 

A walking tour began after our lecture and I will add some pictures from that soon!

To end our first real day together, we had dinner with some of the staff at ECELA. Unfortunately, I started feeling really sick and after dinner, my friend helped me out at the pharmacy (they're stand-alone shops here, not like CVSs or Food Lions with a pharmacy inside). 

After the consulate, we had lunch at an authentic little cafe. We sat on the balcony, or mezzanine, and I know it would never fit the building codes in the US. But, it gave us a great view on our meals cooking!! The close up of the bowl is the soup a friend got...and it literally had a small hoof in it. Haha...she couldn't eat it all, and that was probably a good thing!

June 27-28, 2017

I am definitely feeling this whole "teacher-becoming-a-student-again" thing! The past two mornings have consisted of classes in Spanish. Yesterday, the 27th, I felt like the pace was perfect and the homework was appropriate. However, today, it was a struggle. My head cold has done nothing but get worse and move from my throat to my nose. So, on top of feeling frustrated with the language and how fast the teacher was moving, I was blowing my nose nonstop. However, challenge is good and struggle is good too--I'm leaning into "the suck". On Tuesday, the 27th, we basically had a day in the classroom and after lunch, we had a lecture from Dr. P and from John. Dr. P touched on the geographical and economic infrastructure and John gave us some outlines for our products/lesson we must have created by the end of the program. I don't have a ton of pictures because these days were somewhat "dry" but necessary, and I took a ton of notes but I doubt you'd be interested in seeing those!

On the 28th, Wednesday, we had a man from the local government come and talk to our group about the infrastructure, pros/cons, challenges, and successes of Cusco and Peru (in general). It was super interesting and supported the fact that Peru is developing but has consistently encountered systemic issues based on things that aren't exactly "fair". For example, the geography of Peru is difficult. You have dense jungle, desert, intense and rigorous mountainous regions, and a long coast. Plus, the main exports of Peru are not really that sustaining. He also went into the issues that their education system has and it's really interesting! A few years ago there was a shortage of teachers and they created a mandate that anyone with an equivalent of a HS degree could teach. However, this created an inverse of quality vs. quantity. There were a ton of teachers but not a lot of quality teachers and this created an education system that lacked equity, respect, etc. This got teachers to many remote areas but they usually did last, which in turns means that students went without materials, teachers, or ultimately an education. It was fascinating in understanding why Peru has never seemed to be able to catch up (even when accounting for their earlier issues with Spanish conquistadors and disparaging acts towards them).  

June 29, 2017

Today is a holiday for Peruvians and so there's no school for Spanish class. That means: EXCURSIONS! We went to Sacsayhuaman (it's Quechua...and for you phonetically inclined folks, it's pronounced, "Sexy Woman" with some inflection in "woman"). This is a place where the Incans were believed to have gathered, worshipped, sold goods, and been a fortress. The evidence of insane architecture and engineering is seen in this place. I've put a few pictures below. It's beautiful and so overwhelming to think about the time it must have taken to build. 

After our excursion, we met up with a guide and he toured us around the Museum of Pre-Columbian Art. Below are pictures. Today was overwhelming in the sense that the history we are learning literally dwarfs the history I've learned and known my whole life as an American growing up in Virginia (focusing pretty much only on the Revolutionary and Civil wars). It also influences me to reflect on how our patriotism is rooted so firmly in a tiny piece of history--not that it shouldn't be strong, proud, and palpable! Yet, I think it's important that as a tourist, a foreigner, we recognize that we have a lot to learn from others. 

June 30-July 2, 2017

This weekend was super busy!! Friday, we wrapped up our first week of classes at ECELA in Spanish grammar, culture, and conversation classes. All week, I worked on the present tense for my grammar class with John (a leader in my program) and then for my conversation class, we have class with two other guys--one is from the same group as mine but the other is another American studying abroad. I'm SUPER excited to move forward into the past tense. Friday was somewhat mundane in the way that we just had class pretty much all day. We discussed our first week at the end of the afternoon. Specifically, we discussed what jumped out at us or surprised us and what could possibly begin to form our "big idea" or "big question" for our lessons. I am really struggling trying to narrow down everything!

Saturday, today, we went to Tipón, Piquillacta, and Raqchi. Tipón is in ruins now, of course, but it's been reconstructed to show the Incan fortress it once was. It was used for irrigation and planting crops, which can easily be seen. Many of the irrigation canals still pump water through. When we went, this morning, it was foggy and quiet--a perfect morning to explore the ruins. I was in awe and to make things even more amazing and cool, we found a rainbow that arced across the sky, across Cusco below, and a beautiful black horse just happily munching away, on a plain above the terraces. Piquillacta and Raqchi were also both astounding but in different ways. Piquillacta is the site of an ancient Wari civilization. It's settled in a valley between large hills and mountains, giving it a great vantage point for predators or enemies. Physically, it reminded me of the Great Wall of China. See the pics to see exactly why; I think you'll get it when you see them. Also, Piquillacta was used as a burial ground and we came upon a site where it was clear that an archaeological dig was taking place. The hole was deep in the ground and our guide told us that much of what we saw from the Wari's in our trip to the museum earlier in the week was taken from burial sites here. Raqchi was beautiful and reminded me of Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii. When I was a little girl, I remember reading a book about Pompeii and being fascinated at how life just completely stopped for this group of people who happened to be unfortunate enough to live below a volcano. The walls and storage huts of Raqchi are still standing, albeit some are totally "helped" by archaeologists who want to keep the structures alive for all to see and ponder upon. Raqchi's walls, as seen in the pictures below, were believed to be part of a temple, and nearby was storage for grain, potatoes, food, etc. It's incredible to think about how we were there, seventeen Americans in 2017, but a few thousand years ago, it was a bustling community. I think that's the piece that tugs at my heart and imagination when we are visiting these places. At one point in time, these cities, temples, waystations, and farms were part of a completely different society, living totally differently than we do today. I have such respect for the community that has gathered around the ruins to keep traditions and the way of life alive. 

Tipón

Piquillacta

Raqchi

July 3-5, 2017

Phew...our first weekend came and went pretty fast, ya'll! On Monday, the third, we had a REALLY interesting lecture on how the Spanish colonized Peru and the indigenous peoples. Then, in the afternoon, we toured two churches in the Plaza de Armas and looked at the paintings, the altars, and all the historical backing that is present of the Spanish influence on the indigenous peoples of South America and Peru. It really was fascinating to look at a building like a book--and totally ties into how I teach my students to look at visual texts as a letter or message. Every building tells a message, conveys a history or expectation. 

Tuesday, we toured three more churches, with a different guide, and it was even more interesting and told even more history and details regarding the relationship between the Spanish and the indigenous peoples. Wednesday, we had a full day of classes and then that night saw a showcase of performances at the Qosqo Center for Native Art. It was of Danza Folclórica--which translates into Folklore Dancing and Singing. 

Now, I really want to focus on some of the cultural stuff that is totally different than what we experience in America:

• You can't throw away your toilet paper into the toilet. Literally, it will clog the toilet. So, there are little tiny trashcans or bins in each stall at public restrooms or in your home. 

  • In the same vein, toilet paper and toilet seats are a privilege not a right here. Seriously. I've never squatted as much in my life--even when prepping for my bodybuilding competition. In pubic restrooms, it's rather normal to have to get your toilet paper before entering the stalls, thus...you better get as much as you'll possibly need, if you get my drift. 

  • After using the restroom, one may think it customary to have soap and paper towels or a blow drier for your hands...wrong. Always carry hand sanitizer and/or be prepared to wipe your hands on your pants or scarf or whatever after washing your hands with the soap they may have (and if they did...you're a lucky duck). 

• Pharmacies are totally stand alone AND you can get many drugs here with no prescription from a doctor. Great...and peligroso (dangerous).

• The taxistas are super aggressive drivers. Actually, all drivers here are super aggressive. On average, I think I may be in a car accident about twice a day. But it's fun! Ha!

• It's freaking cold everywhere. And no where except touristy or really crowded places have central air. And did I mention it's winter here and gets down below freezing at night? Then, during the day, it's usually feeling like 75 degrees during the day. So, layers, layers, layers, and more layers. 

• PPT. You know what that is? No, not code for Powerpoint...the other teachers and I have abbreviated it for Peruvian People Time. They run on their own clock here (as I've heard about Europeans as well, schedules are suggestions). We have an hour for lunch and transportation--and it usually takes about 20 minutes in a cab to get from our Spanish classes (at the ECELA Institute) to the CBC (Centro Bartolomé de las Casas) for our afternoon lectures. Many people have been late more than once. Prime example is from today. My friend, Paula, and I decided to grab crepes from a little cafe that's just near the CBC. We both agreed it should be super quick--because really, how long should a crepe take? Well...nearly forty minutes apparently. 

• Who let the dogs out? No. I'm not actually referencing the wildly popular song from the early 2000s, it's a real question. There are hundreds of dogs wandering Cusco and they love it. And I want to love it but fear for them--however, upon closer examination, many seem to actually belong to people!! It's just that the attitude here is totally different regarding animals. They're allowed the freedom to move, search for food, and work for living a good life just as people are. 

• PPP. 'paca Pee Poop. Yep, alpaca, llama, or vecuña poop and or pee is EVERYWHERE downtown. It could be from the dogs, but it's usually pretty large and scatter the tiny alleyways in the historical district, which are usually frequented by the ladies who call out for pictures with them in their indigenous garb and animals. 

Ollantaytambo and Urubamba

July 6-8, 2017

So, Saturday we went Moras and Moray. Moras is a place where they mine salt...or rather, they wait for the water to evaporate and then they scoop, or harvest, the salt from the pools. It is incredibly gorgeous and huge. There are a ton of them, and their all mined and maintained by a family. When a couple gets married, it then becomes a responsibility for them to uphold. This is pre-Incan...so this is a tradition that's been happening for ages. They can harvest a few times a season (the dry season, so the pools can evaporate). The water for the pools comes down off the mountain and little streams have been carved out to allow the water, which is naturally warm and salty. Then, the first harvest is usually brown, the second is pink, and finally the third is white. The white yields the highest profit, followed by the pink, and the lowest is brown. 

After we got back, we decided that a long overdue girls night was bound to happen. Let's say: I had a ton of fun, but I also found out one drink here equals about three drinks in Virginia. This is mostly due to altitude and our bodies still adjusting. Regardless, we had a ton of fun, ended up meeting up with one of the host "mama's" and sang karaoke and danced all night. Singing along to Shania Twain in South America has now been checked off my bucket list.

One observation: We saw a group of tall, caucasian males at one of the first clubs we went to. Immediately, I'm curious about where they're from, why they're in Cusco, etc. I go up to try and start conversing with them and they were not having it. Apparently, they were Swedish and really did not have any desire to talk at all to us. I'm actually more curious now; is it because we were Americans? Is it because we were excited and overly zealous to speak English? Who knows, but definitely raised questions in my mind. 

July 9-11

Sunday, I recovered from Saturday. :D

Monday was a pretty low-key day full of classes. However, that evening, I decided to bite the bullet and go to the Crossfit gym to sign up for the classes. I didn't go because I was still feeling a little funky from Saturday night but I made the commitment! Tuesday was A TON O' FUN though! I went to the gym bright and early on Tuesday, 6am was so tough but really worth it. The gym does things a little differently here than at home when I go to Crossfit Callisto. Their warm up is a repetition of three or more exercises that you do about 20 reps of. The WODs at home are usually not comprised of lifting movements, or at least not more than one--mostly because doing them for time can cause accidents as people try to do more than they should correctly and possibly hurt themselves. 

Salsa class was incredibly fun. We learned about a total of six steps and practiced putting them all together. The teacher was very in tune with us and could tell when we needed some extra time on certain steps to understand. After the lesson, I wasn't feeling very well so I went home, ate dinner, and went to bed. 

July 12-13

Wednesday was fun--the lecture from Dr. E was fabulous. We watched video clips from immigrants (most of whom have been deported) and discussed the reading that she assigned to read before the trip: The Short, Sweet Dream of Eduardo Gutierrez. It's fascinating to look at immigration, at the identity of the United States, from a perspective that's not mine. I grew up loving and embracing everything American, sans actually thinking about it. Now, I feel like I'm really understanding what being an American is, and blind patriotism is not it (in my opinion). Being a true patriot is looking our country's faults square in the eye, working to change them for the better, and still loving the hell out of what we have (but working for the betterment of all). Anything worth believing in should be questioned, and often. 

I think so often that people look at immigrants negatively and assume they're in America to "steal jobs", to take from the goodness of others, to leach off the systems we have in place to help people. After reading Eduardo Gutierrez and some assigned articles (from both sides of the issue), I am a firm believer that immigrants do more good than harm. They actually create jobs, create a global marketplace, can soften the blow of a catastrophic event (think landslide, earthquake, etc.). If they're undocumented, they're still working and albeit, many think they're taking jobs. This is simply not a hard and fast true statement. They are pursuing jobs, but most of which are jobs that don't get filled by Americans because they're "low-skill jobs" or are considered the sludge at the bottom of the job barrel. Not to mention, they're often usually paying into systems they'll most likely never get to take advantage of. If they're paying taxes, which documented immigrants do (and undocumented, if you consider taxes when eating out, etc.), then they're paying into medicaid, medicare, etc. This is just a tiny fragment of the arguments I've been reading about, but it's lit a fire in me to help those coming to America. 

July 14-15

Yesterday, the 14th, we had our presentations to our class and directors (minus one; poor Dr. E was sick). Unfortunately, my friend got realllllly sick and I got her into a taxi--but she had been feeling faint and even fell off a chair at one point. I decided to ride home with her. Poor thing. I cannot stress how much this trip is physically taxing. It's difficult in an emotional, mental, and physical sense. Sometimes, you just break down; your immune system says, "ENOUGH!" She presented her lesson, her "big idea", and whether she was going to contribute to a cohesive unit plan or a collection of lessons then peaced out fairly soon after that. I missed some people's presentations, but I love the format. We had to write down one encouragement, one suggestion, and one compliment for the idea(s). I think I'm going to take this piece back to my own classroom because it will force students to pay attention and think critically (go beyond the, "it's good"). It could be a complimentary grade--adds to their own presentation grade. 

I presented my idea is illustrated below:

On the fifteenth, today, I tried to get some work done--and I did, but it wasn't nearly as fruitful as I wanted. I think in the future, I have to work alone. The temptation to talk when I'm working with someone is either too strong or they talk and I feel obligated to try and focus on them and the task at hand, which usually doesn't bode well for one or the other. 

There's a little Parisian-inspired cafe that is really close to my house/ECELA and a "sister" cafe near Plaza de Armas. It's called La Bondiet and is super cute. WiFi, coffee, cakes, sandwiches...it's a great place for people watching or working. 

July 16

Oy vey. Have you ever gotten up at 3:15am in order to load up on a bus and drive about three hours to participate in a huge festival that's combined religion and tradition? Welp, we woke up hella early and loaded onto the bus at ECELA and I promptly fell back asleep. We arrived in Paucartambo around 7:30 and had breakfast in the bus. Around 7:45, we left the bus and started walking towards town. 

So, basically, other than during the few days of this festival, this sleepy little pueblo is small and is home to a few hundred or thousand people. However, during the weekend of the Festival del Virgen de Carmen, thousands of Peruvians and tourists descend into the small town. As soon as we exited the bus, I could tell that we were going to be surrounded by thousands. The history of the festival is basically combining religion and folklore which has produced parades, many types of characters with masks and costumes that illustrate their character, and traditions throughout the day. 

We tried to attend mass at 8am, but it was so packed they had to put pews in the square outside the church but there were still so many people that there was just a mob at the door. I tried to get close for about 15 minutes then decided that since I wasn't catholic, it probably wasn't worth it. I should let those who are catholic get close instead. After that, we walked to the main square where most of the processions should have been (many seemed to just bypass the square instead of walking around it, but we didn't know this in the morning). We split up into groups and I walked around with Mau. We people watched, shopped, and I lived dangerously. At any fair in the US, one may anticipate the food with saliva and desire. But here, you approach street food like one might a feral animal. You want them to like you, you don't want them to hurt you--we've been warned time and time again about giardia and other health issues that arose during previous trips. I decided that I wanted some fresh churros more than I was afraid of what they could do to me (have I mentioned that GI issues seem to be a way of life here?). So, I ate my delicious, hot churros with an amorous gleam in my eye and threw caution to the wind...

As we walked though, it became apparent that this was "prime culture time". In the span of about six minutes, Mau and I saw a little boy just totally drop trow in the middle of the street (keep in mind there are hundreds of people there), and push his little "equipment" just barely over the grate in the road and relieve himself. I, shocked, turn the other way, and see a girl no older than 16 begin breastfeeding a very tiny baby. Shortly after that, we made our way back to the main square to wait for the parade and I saw a mother pull down her daughter's (maybe three years old?) pants, so I was looking at this brown little booty and then pull her own skirt up so no one could see but it became clear that she was instructing the little girl to squat and pee. In the square. A mere four feet from where we were sitting. Then, I noticed the mother wipe the little girl after alleviating herself, and in the same few seconds, wipe the girl's mouth. With the same rag. Now, it may be real easy to immediately be grossed out, think about how they should know better, or otherwise judge. However, I couldn't stop thinking about how these people, whose lives I was peering into, just simply did not grow up in the US with all the information about germs, bacteria, or the same social norms. Growing up in Appomattox, we always looked forward to October for the Railroad Festival when, similar to Paucartambo, hundreds or thousands encroached upon Appomattox. While I cannot imagine the same happenings occurring in Appomattox without severe social stigma and reaction, it's simply because this is a different place with a different set of values, goals, and expectations. That doesn't make them wrong. That doesn't make us right. It simply shows the difference between the two cultures of my homeland and my beloved Peru. I really hope I can write plans and execute them so that my kids can see differences in lifestyle, culture, etc. and appreciate them instead of persecute them. 

July 17-18

On Monday, we discussed our assigned reading from Dr. Ebacher. She had us split up and answer some questions with a partner. The readings were from both sides of the immigration issue. And quite frankly, firmly established my stance on the issue. 

The people who come to America as immigrants, illegal or legal, usually don't want to stay. Sometimes they end up staying, but most actually intend upon returning home once they've earned enough money. However, the border and the intense reactions/consequences of crossing illegally have made the returns home so risky that many simply stay. Most recently, it hasn't been just men who are trying their hand at the cruel facade of the American Dream; for a few years, there's been a rise in bringing their families over and try to make the best of it. They do this because it's so risky to travel back and forth. They often DO NOT come to leech off our systems and programs. Want to know why? Usually, they cannot read English or have enough resources to take advantage of them. A second reason they don't "leech" is because they're afraid of ICE, of being discovered and then their family dismantled. Which leads me to another point: What happens to these families who are broken up by ICE? If you say you don't care, then what you're saying is that you don't care about America's future. I write those words because most of the time, many of the children whose parents are illegal and they are not, are either placed into foster care or shipped to their parent's home country. Either way, the child is uprooted, their foreseeable future is unclear, and otherwise, they're removed from have a "normal" childhood (I mean, whatever that is). It's so sad, and I believe that the demands on immigration are nothing but detrimental. We need change and action towards sustainable policies and boundaries.

On the 18th, we had two women from a nearby pueblo, Chacan, come and speak to us about their life and their involvement with the NGO (a non-profit focusing on pulling people out of poverty and giving them means and education to do it). Dr. E handled it like an interview. These women are intensely proud of their homes, their farms, and most importantly the sacrifices they've given to give their children more opportunity and a different future than theirs entailed. It brought tears to my eyes to hear these women freely express their vehement pride and pleasure at what they've accomplished. Both women have several children and sacrificed a lot to send their children (all of appropriate age) to college or a trade school. They recognized that farming was hard, that it was not a way to sustain a life in this century and so they made sure that their progeny would have more ways to create their own, unique lives. 

I couldn't get over how back in the states, so many people complain about little things and use the hashtag "#firstworldproblems". I'm guilty of this. But seeing, hearing, and getting to know these women put a face on the developing world. A world where dirt floors are normal; where having your farm animals in the garden, next to your bathroom or kitchen, is normal; where waking up and seeing your breath in the winter is normal; where drinking water is available only from bottles is normal. I vow to never use that hashtag again. We get to visit them in Chacan later in the week and I'm so humbled to go!

July 19-21

Wednesday was a fairly typical day of classes and such but Thursday was a gem. We got to visit the women from our class on Tuesday!!! We loaded up on the bus and made our way to a man's house who raises cuy...aka: Guinea pig. And it's because they're a livestock here. It was incredible to tour this man's "barn" of guinea pigs. He has won awards and ribbons and received a lot of press for his cuy! He's fairly high-tech too; he uses pretty large, open cages for somewhere between one and six cuy (depending on size, sex, etc.). He had four different types; one of which called out to me particularly, it looked just like the dog from "The Neverending Story". It's so odd to think about how here, guinea pigs are not an animal from a pet store but a type of carne, a meat to be eaten. While were there, his livestock grew from 200 to 204: we got to see a guinea pig give birth. He also explained how as soon as a female gives birth, within two hours of that happening, she can begin to get pregnant again. He is definitely a businessman, veterinarian, farmer, and competitor at the same time.

After visiting the man with the cuy, we made our way to the women who spoke with us earlier this week. They greeted us with necklaces made with local flowers, sang us a traditional Quechua song, and introduced themselves as various participants in the NGO. They showed us around the house; we saw their collection of cuy, their bathrooms, and guests' quarters. As part of the NGO, they're hopping onto the tourist bandwagon. Tourists can come and stay with them and see what real Peruvian life is like in a small community. It's on my "Return to Peru and Do" list. We visited two more homes, and each one was home to a very proud family boasting about the education the NGO gave them that taught them how to care of tourists, take better care of their family and animals, and gave them more opportunity than many had received previously. 

However, of course, none of this would have been complete without food. And let me remind you that Dr. E has warned all of us against street food and hell, all food in Peru. And with good reason. The food here is amazing but they have different health standards and expectations with food; for example, yogurt is fairly shelf-stable here. Also, the water from the faucets here contains Giardia, a parasite. And I know I've mentioned that a funky stomach is just a way of life. So, yeah, when these sweet women offered some choclo (corn on the cob, or kernels from the cob after they've processed it) as a parting gift, we all felt obligated to take it. Of course, I don't know what to do with it once it's in my hand. I think about how it could have fecal matter on it, I mean, the cows were a stone's throw away; how it could have been rinsed in faucet water and still be wet, which mean I could be ingesting Giardia. I was so flustered I shoved the suspect nugget of corn goodness into my mouth and profusely gracias-ed the lady. I chewed, determined not to swallow, while I walked to the bus and thought about how I had napkins in my mochila and I could just spit it out and rinse my mouth with water. Except, I had underestimated the hospitality and graciousness of our hosts. I had to speak to, shake hands with, and kiss on the cheek a few of our hosts and hostesses before boarding the bus. In the midst of all the goodbye rituals, I accidentally swallowed the choclo. I. Was. Crestfallen. And immediately immersed in anxiety around the possibility of getting "stomach sick" in a devleoping country. As I sat in my seat on the bus, trying to talk down my gastrointestinal fears, the lady boards our bus with a huge bowl of choclo and urges people to take some more. I can see the unease and fear in their eyes, the wariness of diarrhea and upset stomach was palpable but I found I was not the only one who obligingly took another piece. I decided that I would take another piece so as to avoid dismaying our sweet hostess but would not swallow until she got off. Except, she didn't. She, and three others, rode with us for ten minutes. I swallowed the choclo. Again. As soon as all our guests were off the bus and the door was tightly closed to avoid offending them, many of us gushed about how now we were terrified of GI distress due to the edible gifts offered by our friends. I guess only time with tell...but either way, I'm so glad to have experienced this excursion, even with the risk of GI distress.

All in all though, I couldn't have had a better time. I love Peruvians. Did I mention that we go to Machu Picchu this weekend?! SO EXCITED!

July 22

Ya'll, we went to Machu Picchu and my housemate, Lacey, left to return to the US. It was a hard day. We woke up at 3:45am, loaded onto the bus at ECELA, got to and boarded the train, and arrived in Aguas Calientes (they don't like that name now, they changed their name to Machu Picchu Pueblo a few years ago). We got into town around 8:30 or so and had time to sit in the main plaza and drink coffee. It was a gorgeous day and despite getting up at the butt-crack o' dawn, I found myself so content and at peace. I anticipated Machu Picchu being breathtaking, spiritual, and otherwise magnificent. What I didn't expect was the feeling that being there was the most right thing in the world. There is a peacefulness that exists on that plateau next to Machu Picchu that I am struggling to articulate. But maybe that's because it's 1:30 and I ought to be going to sleep. I'll have to write tomorrow. I'm exhausted. Stay tuned for a full briefing of Machu Picchu. ZzZzZz...

July 23-24

Yes, Machu Picchu is everything that you think it ought to be or could be. Historically, they really don't know what exactly Machu Picchu was to the Incans. Some say it was a retreat for the "royalty" or big wigs of the empire; other think it was a hidden city once the conquistadors came riding into town. We'll never know, but I do know this: there are free ranging llamas and alpacas, there's a ton of steps, and it might be one of the most beautiful and peaceful spots on God's green Earth. I know a bunch of my Virginia-folk might be reading this thinking, "C'mon, Virginia. It's right here in the Blue Ridge." I'm not discounting that beauty at all. But here's the deal: it's three mountains all together with snow-capped mountains not far behind, there's so much green for a landscape that's usually brown and golden, there's an air of mystery that only Indiana Jones movies seems to capture. Seriously! I mean, yes, that was a small plug for one of my favorite movies but also, I watched them so often with my cousin, Eli, that I often feel like I can recite scenes. And the sense of awe, gratitude, and mystery that surrounded the Raiders of the Lost Ark or the Temple of Doom is so palpable when you're sitting on the plateau under Machu Picchu's great summit, it moved me to tears. I couldn't help but sit there and reflect on how some people never see what I've seen these last few weeks in Peru. 

I got really contemplative while sitting cross-legged with my friends, Pau and Mau (nicknames for Paula and Maura). We talked while we ate and wished we'd have some alpaca or llama friends visit but then agreed that we needed some quiet time with Patchamama (earlier post...if you're lost: use wikipedia). I'm so glad we did that. I took off my shoes and socks, stretched out in the long grass and just listened and felt thankful. Luckily, the tourist crowd slowed and it was quiet. I sacrificed my legs to about fifteen bug bites, but it was worth it. Lying in the grass, I could only think of what I've lost and gained in the past few years. I couldn't help but think of my step-momma, my papa, my grandmother who have passed away but I trust are looking down on me. I thought of my kids at school, how I want them to pursue and pursue and to push and push until they've uncovered every rock, moved every stone, and figured out who they are and found happiness. It might be easy to say that everyone should visit Machu Picchu, but I honestly think that's a base thing to say. You don't have to visit Machu Picchu. But you should find a place outside your mother country, your mother tongue that lights a fire of gratitude and contemplation like that place did for me. 

In other news, we took a bunch of walks in nature today. The guides were super nice, but it wasn't really my thing. It was beautiful and very relaxing, but it didn't "light my fire" as aforementioned. :)

July 25-27

The past three days have been spent in Chinchero, a small pueblo outside of Cusco. There is a co-op in Chinchero run by a woman named Nilda, whom my friends and I have deemed "boss lady" only because she the boss. I love her! Years ago, she saw that the trade and art of textiles in Peru were dying out, becoming a product of machinery instead of hands and talent. Textiles have been a huge way of life, communication, history-recording, etc. in Incan and Peruvian society. Nilda decided to do something about this and started an organization that takes women from smaller villages to Chinchero and they live and work with Nilda. They sell their goods through Nilda's organization, they host workshops, and they've traveled the world showing their talents and skills as textile artists. 

The first day, we focused on dying the wool. They only use techniques that are natural and derived from their historical heritage. Therefore, everything they use to make color can be found in Peru--pretty neat! One unique thing: I teach this short story about a woman who moves to Mexico and is suicidal because she's unhappy. Her maid, a native Mexican, helps her realize that life is worth living and being happy may be a choice at times. Anyway, one of the vocab words I have for that story is "carmine". Carmine is actually derived from a beetle that lives on a cactus leaf, and when it's smooshed, it creates this incredibly rich, deep red color. That's LITERALLY what I saw Nilda do for the red yarn! SO COOL. She split my group up and I was in charge of red and a peach color. After boiling water, putting in the sticks, beetles, or whatever to make the color, we put in the wool. It had already been spun and wound into circles about as tall as my forearm. After each color had spent it's allotted time in the "bath", we pulled the huge metal pots (literally, cauldrons) off the fire, used sticks (about seven) to hold up the yarn/wool and let it drain as much as it could, then set it into an empty plastic bin to cool. Once cooled, we had to untangle and remove any dying debris from the circles of thread. That. Was. Tedious. Probably my least favorite task but also gratifying once you saw the work done the day after. 

As anyone who has spent any time with me can attest, I don't mind volunteering for...anything. I volunteered to be a "momma" for a day. Basically, when these women come to Nilda, they may be pregnant, have a nursing baby, etc. It's a real-life fact for these Peruvian women--childcare exists in the cities not the small pueblos. So, I learned how to use the traditional manta to swaddle and load my baby up onto my back. I was determined to wear it all day to see how it really was for some of these young moms working all day with a baby behind them. It was definitely hot, but not as bad as I thought. I was applauded as being "such a good mommy". Ha. Only to my fur-covered boy at home! :)

The next two days were spent learning how to weave different patterns and projects, plus braiding. It was SO FUN. I was a kid who loved crafts, I wanted to make stuff all the time. Eight year old Virginia got to come out and play. It's SO much harder to weave than anyone understands unless you've tried. I wished, for about ten minutes only, that I taught art so I could teach my kids how to do it. However, I think maybe the sun had gotten really strong and I wasn't thinking straight because pretty soon my design looked more like a thong than a fancy "S". Yeah. I took it apart and restarted but maybe it's something I can show the art teacher at my school. She's pretty talented so I'd be she'd pick it right up. I didn't finish any of my products because I want to take them home and finish them at home. I'm currently working on a lanyard strap first.

A few takeaways from Chinchero: 

• I know what it's like as a student when your teacher gets frustrated with you. It had been a while since I knew that feeling but the first girl who shadowed me and was my teacher on day two was not pleased with my clumsy fingers and rudimentary Spanish. The girl on our last day was much more patient and I was much more successful. Maybe because it was day two or maybe because she was so kind...

• These women take great pride in their work. And rightfully so. I ended up buy over $400 worth of their goods because after three days of trying to make one tiny bracelet, I couldn't imagine a rug, a blanket, or a bag. I have no regrets. It went on my credit card and I'll pay it off. I ain't stressin'. It was a pleasure to give them my money for work that is damn hard!

• Teamwork makes the dreamwork. I've said it a lot but these when personified it. If someone needed help with the dying, they just called and someone came running. If they couldn't get a gringa's weaving project fixed, they asked for help and in split second, someone arrived. I want that philosophy in my school. We. Need. It. But that's the thing. It wasn't the same people coming to help. Everyone took ownership of the problems or challenges presented. Valuable life lesson there. 

July 28-31

This weekend (Peru's Independence Weekend), we took a trip to the beach! Kidding. They had beaches, but it was cold as a witch's you-know-what. Friday and Sunday night, we stayed at a hotel. I tried to stay calm but THEY HAD HOT WATER WITH AMAZING WATER PRESSURE. THEY HAD HEATED ROOMS...well, space heaters. But, I'll take what I can get. We spent the majority of the day on Friday and Monday traveling to or from Puno. Saturday and Sunday were spent on the islands of Uros, Amantani, and Taquile. Saturday, we visited the floating islands of Uros. Basically, they cut these floating squares of dirt, stake them together, then pile dried reeds in opposite directions (first vertical, then horizontal) in multiple layers to create a floor or "earth" to walk on. Obviously nothing really grows out of it but they have houses and boats they've made from the reeds. My friend, Laura, is convinced it's nothing but a tourist trap. There are no bathrooms. They cook on a rock...but what we saw was more like a river stone. Plus, when we rode by some on Sunday, it was deserted. She thinks they live in Puno and boat out for tourists. Either way, I got a cool stamp in my passport. 

Saturday, after Uros, we rode another 2.5 hours to Amantani and walked, literally, up the entire mountain...oops. I mean, island. BUT IT FELT LIKE A MOUNTAIN. It was pretty much straight up. Our house had some solar panels but the solar energy in our room was like Satan's heart: straight up not working. We used our phone flashlights and a single candle. We were split into groups of four and five and each group had a different family with whom they stayed and ate with for Saturday from 2:30pm to Sunday morning. Two of my ladies and I decided to climb to the highest point of the island, about an hour hike. Ya'll. Amantani is 2,000 feet higher than Cusco. And it's already hard to breathe there when I'm walking fast. It was the hardest hike I've ever done but also, so worth it. Just like everything has been here. After the hike, our host mama let us wear some of her clothing, very traditional, and go to a community dance. Again, I think it's geared towards tourists but I don't care. From the lack of running water, the lack of heating, the lack of light, I could tell my host family needed the income. Pau and I bought overpriced hats the next morning, I suppose it was worth it. We had also brought gifts of sugar, rice, and fruit when we arrived but they were so gracious and kind. Their little house was incredibly quaint and beautiful. I woke up early enough to see the sun rise over Bolivia. Oh, yeah. I didn't mention that: from our house, we could see EVERY SINGLE STAR. The milky way was as clear as day. The lights from La Paz, Bolivia seemed within a stone's throw. It was glorious. What wasn't glorious was sharing a toilet that you ran the water for. Haha, literally. You do your business and pour water down the hole to flush your stuff away. Did I already say there was no light. In the bathroom. No shower. No sink. It was roughin' it. But I loved it. For one night. 

Taquile was the next morning after we ate breakfast with our families and said goodbye. Taquile is a little smaller than Amantani, but has a culture just as rich. We sat in the square and could see the dignitaries of the island presiding over a song and dance celebrating the holiday weekend. We ate brunch overlooking the lake; I had trout and an omlette. So. Good. I've been pleasantly surprised that none of the food from the trip has affected me poorly (knock on wood), or maybe it's my slight addiction to probiotics while here. Did I already mention that Giardia is alive and well in the water here. I'm quite judicious about what I put in my mouth here.

Monday was just spent on the bus, but I did manage to get my summer reading done, watch a movie, sleep, and watch three episodes of Ozark in the total of 14 hours on the bus this weekend. 

August 1

Whoa. Time has flown. The last week has come and now I'm looking at the end of the tunnel. I'm excited to go home, I want my own things...my own culture will be nice and familiar. But I'm really not looking forward to leaving. 

Today, we visited an animal sanctuary and a home for kids to keep them off the street. It's called Qosqo Waki and I had an amazing time getting to know them and their mission. They operate similar to a Salvation Army or Homeless Shelter in the states. They take any kid. Literally, ANY kid. No matter the issues, the problems, etc. They focus on giving the kid support to earn a living. The focus on education being that foundation. They offer two programs: baking and woodworking/carpentry. They have meetings every Tuesday for kids to express their likes, dislikes, suggestions, problems, solutions, etc. The kids can come and go as they please, but all that is asked if they stay is that they pay one sol a day into the community pot and they help with chores. After teaching for six years and personally knowing and loving kids that were homeless, I had to put on my "compartmentalizing face" when they brought in a man who was back to volunteer but had lived there as a child. He told his story and I was deeply affected. The mission of Qosqo Waki is the same as what I want my children in my classroom  to be affected by: Find your identity and mission, then go and pursue it. They have a theatre program too...that got my wheels a'turning and now I'm definitely going to reach out and see if my new International Thespian Society could make that their mission and visit them next summer. We shall see...