Azul Wasi: Breathtaking Beauty
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11.5.13
The chariot which brought me here. 30 hours of travel is a fair amount, especially with the added silliness of sleeping in an airport chapel next to a Mariachi band. But after arriving in Cusco yesterday, and staying up for about 36 hours just to try to stave off jetlag, I'm actually feeling pretty good! Cusco is at about 11,000 feet, and I was somewhat worried that the altitude would be a factor. So far, though, so good. Not even a headache.
It probably helps that the lobby at the hostel, at which I'm paying a cool $10/night (breakfast included), has unlimited Coca tea. Yes, coca. The plant that cocaine comes from. The plant itself is incredibly good for you, and has a ton of benefits, one of which is helping with altitude sickness. Contrary to a common misconception, chewing the leaf or drinking the tea doesn't effect the body at all like cocaine. The coca leaf has to go through a long process of changes to be turned into cocaine. So, with the leaf, it's nothing but good things. Too bad it's not allowed in America.
A day of relaxation and reading today, and getting my bearings around Cusco. I wandered past the town square. Looking forward to being here for the next month plus!
It probably helps that the lobby at the hostel, at which I'm paying a cool $10/night (breakfast included), has unlimited Coca tea. Yes, coca. The plant that cocaine comes from. The plant itself is incredibly good for you, and has a ton of benefits, one of which is helping with altitude sickness. Contrary to a common misconception, chewing the leaf or drinking the tea doesn't effect the body at all like cocaine. The coca leaf has to go through a long process of changes to be turned into cocaine. So, with the leaf, it's nothing but good things. Too bad it's not allowed in America.
A day of relaxation and reading today, and getting my bearings around Cusco. I wandered past the town square. Looking forward to being here for the next month plus!
11.6.13
Alpacas and awesome ladies. Though I enjoy heading into a restaurant at random and feasting on whatever good, or not so good, food they have, I'm also a fan of TripAdvisor-ing it. Today was one of those days, because I had absolutely no idea where anything was.
I ended up at a restaurant called "Aroma", which is right next to an exotic plants museum. The food was delicious, as was the coffee. A nice change of pace from the darn espressos of Europe and the instant varieties of Africa and Asia. I know it's really American of me, but I like drip coffee that has been percolating for about 9 hours in a gas station that tastes like the attendant emptied the tray of char from a toaster and mixed it with water, dagnabbit.
Anyway, the point is that the owner, Erick, was really personable and spoke a fair amount of English. He asked what I was doing in Cusco, I told him about the trip, and that I had no place to go for orphanage work here yet. He told me to stop by his other work tomorrow, a Spanish language school, named ECELA, and that he might have a lead for me. Awesome!
After lunch, I wandered around the city some more and got a picture of me next to an alpaca and a local lady. It's staged and fake, but it's their job, and I'll pay a buck for a picture next to one of the weirdest animals there is.
I ended up at a restaurant called "Aroma", which is right next to an exotic plants museum. The food was delicious, as was the coffee. A nice change of pace from the darn espressos of Europe and the instant varieties of Africa and Asia. I know it's really American of me, but I like drip coffee that has been percolating for about 9 hours in a gas station that tastes like the attendant emptied the tray of char from a toaster and mixed it with water, dagnabbit.
Anyway, the point is that the owner, Erick, was really personable and spoke a fair amount of English. He asked what I was doing in Cusco, I told him about the trip, and that I had no place to go for orphanage work here yet. He told me to stop by his other work tomorrow, a Spanish language school, named ECELA, and that he might have a lead for me. Awesome!
After lunch, I wandered around the city some more and got a picture of me next to an alpaca and a local lady. It's staged and fake, but it's their job, and I'll pay a buck for a picture next to one of the weirdest animals there is.
11.7.13
Cusco from up above. Good news! I found an orphanage to volunteer at in Peru. I went down to Erick's school this morning and met with him and his co-worker, Ygor. They both suggested I check out an orphanage named Azul Wasi, which is located about an hour out of town in a rural suburb named Oropesa. It's home to 15 kids and was started 8 years ago by an ex-cop named Alcides. They spoke very highly of him and the kids at Azul Wasi, and I look forward to seeing it tomorrow!
In Peru, if you eat out (which you should, because it's really good and super cheap) you'll come across something called "menu del dia", which I discovered for the first time today. For 5 soles, or $1.50, I got bread, soup, an entree, and a drink at a vegetarian restaurant. It's a fixed menu, and whatever they feel like serving that day is what it is. But, at other restaurants, you can pick from a fixed menu from a variety of different foods for 10 - 20 soles, which is also incredibly inexpensive. Look forward to trying more of these and filling my stomach for the price of a cuppa coffee.
In Peru, if you eat out (which you should, because it's really good and super cheap) you'll come across something called "menu del dia", which I discovered for the first time today. For 5 soles, or $1.50, I got bread, soup, an entree, and a drink at a vegetarian restaurant. It's a fixed menu, and whatever they feel like serving that day is what it is. But, at other restaurants, you can pick from a fixed menu from a variety of different foods for 10 - 20 soles, which is also incredibly inexpensive. Look forward to trying more of these and filling my stomach for the price of a cuppa coffee.
11.8.13
The gate leading into Azul Wasi. Today was my first day at Azul Wasi, and it was better than I hoped it would be.
Placement #9 - Azul Wasi
The day started out with me walking back to the English school, and meeting with Alcides. He's in his 50's, with an infectious smile and a quiet confidence. Also, he doesn't speak English. (Time to step up my Spanish game.). So, this made for an interesting and fun hour bus ride of broken communication. I (tried) explaining to him that it was neat he was a police officer, because I used to work in a jail. I probably communicated that I was a prisoner for the last 12 years and just got out.
Oropesa feels like a ghost town. When you get off the bus, you're in a town square with stray dogs and a couple people wandering through. An old church looms over your head, and cobblestone streets dot the way in and out. From here, it's a 20 minute walk to Azul Wasi, and holy lord the surroundings are beautiful. It's in a valley, rolling mountains lining both sides, terraced farms occupying much of the space.
We arrived at about 1, with the kids due back from school in about 30 minutes. Alcides showed me the place. An office, a library, a computer room, kitchen, dining room, several bathrooms with showers and toilets, and about 5 bedrooms, each with 3-4 beds. No hot water, but electricity, so that's a good thing. It's basic, but it's on a good plot of land. They also have a small garden with corn, apple trees, mint, etc. And 4 dogs, 3 cats, 12 chicken, 3 turkeys, and a parrot. Suddenly, I have the craving to watch Doctor Doolittle.
The first thing I noticed when the kids arrived is: they are undeniably happy, and it's not an act. They didn't know me from a hole in the wall, and each of them gave me a hug with an "hola amigo." All of them are vibrant, and so full of life. I really look forward to being here and learning from them and helping out as much as I can with whatever needs to be done. There are 14 boys, 3 girls, a worker named David, and another named Anastacia. All are hospitable and kind. This will be a great place to be.
Placement #9 - Azul Wasi
The day started out with me walking back to the English school, and meeting with Alcides. He's in his 50's, with an infectious smile and a quiet confidence. Also, he doesn't speak English. (Time to step up my Spanish game.). So, this made for an interesting and fun hour bus ride of broken communication. I (tried) explaining to him that it was neat he was a police officer, because I used to work in a jail. I probably communicated that I was a prisoner for the last 12 years and just got out.
Oropesa feels like a ghost town. When you get off the bus, you're in a town square with stray dogs and a couple people wandering through. An old church looms over your head, and cobblestone streets dot the way in and out. From here, it's a 20 minute walk to Azul Wasi, and holy lord the surroundings are beautiful. It's in a valley, rolling mountains lining both sides, terraced farms occupying much of the space.
We arrived at about 1, with the kids due back from school in about 30 minutes. Alcides showed me the place. An office, a library, a computer room, kitchen, dining room, several bathrooms with showers and toilets, and about 5 bedrooms, each with 3-4 beds. No hot water, but electricity, so that's a good thing. It's basic, but it's on a good plot of land. They also have a small garden with corn, apple trees, mint, etc. And 4 dogs, 3 cats, 12 chicken, 3 turkeys, and a parrot. Suddenly, I have the craving to watch Doctor Doolittle.
The first thing I noticed when the kids arrived is: they are undeniably happy, and it's not an act. They didn't know me from a hole in the wall, and each of them gave me a hug with an "hola amigo." All of them are vibrant, and so full of life. I really look forward to being here and learning from them and helping out as much as I can with whatever needs to be done. There are 14 boys, 3 girls, a worker named David, and another named Anastacia. All are hospitable and kind. This will be a great place to be.
11.9.13
The road to Azul Wasi. Today was low-key to get my bearings and adjust to the altitude a bit more thoroughly. Not much to report, but I went back to that vegetarian restaurant for dinner. It's owned and operated by a husband and wife who are always there with their year-old daughter. Tonight, it was the husband's turn to babysit. I was the only one in the restaurant. He and I watched a Dolph Lundgren movie on Cinemax, with Spanish subtitles. It was one of the best-worst movies I've seen in a long time, which just so happens to be my favorite genre.
11.10.13
The work ladder. Day two at Azul Wasi. Today, I got here earlier than the first day so I got to experience what kind of work usually happens while the kids are at home from school on the weekend. For the most part, this involved hauling bricks from one part of the property to the second floor of a new building under construction.
It was fun working with the kids. Like Romania, even though there's currently a steep language barrier, a lot can be communicated through the shared sweat of the brow. Plus, I think respect is earned when they see people who are here to pitch in actually working hard.
After working for a few hours on this, some folks from Cusco came out. I still have no idea who they were, but the kids were all super excited to see them. It may have been something to do with the fact that they came bearing fried chicken and potatoes, which Alcides later told me is the food of choice of 99% of the kids at Azul Wasi, and they rarely get it.
After the 20 minute walk back to Oropesa, hour bus ride, and another 20 minute walk back to the middle of town, I arrived at my new hostel: Dragonfly. Aside from the fact that the wifi is infinitely faster than the last place, there's an interior courtyard exposed to the night sky. It's a cozy nook to watch the stars as I scribble down these words for you that I hope make sense. Also, the workers are all really nice. Looking forward to being here for the next week or so!
It was fun working with the kids. Like Romania, even though there's currently a steep language barrier, a lot can be communicated through the shared sweat of the brow. Plus, I think respect is earned when they see people who are here to pitch in actually working hard.
After working for a few hours on this, some folks from Cusco came out. I still have no idea who they were, but the kids were all super excited to see them. It may have been something to do with the fact that they came bearing fried chicken and potatoes, which Alcides later told me is the food of choice of 99% of the kids at Azul Wasi, and they rarely get it.
After the 20 minute walk back to Oropesa, hour bus ride, and another 20 minute walk back to the middle of town, I arrived at my new hostel: Dragonfly. Aside from the fact that the wifi is infinitely faster than the last place, there's an interior courtyard exposed to the night sky. It's a cozy nook to watch the stars as I scribble down these words for you that I hope make sense. Also, the workers are all really nice. Looking forward to being here for the next week or so!
11.11.13
Alfredo & Carmen-Rosa. A good night's sleep in the bag, I was up and ready to go for a full day at Azul Wasi. More manual labor today, which went something like this: shovel 50 pounds of sand into a bucket, carry the bucket 100 meters, walk it up two flights of exterior stairs that are clinging to the side of the building by a weld as thick as hair on a flea, dump it, and repeat as much as possible. Easy enough. But with the elevation, and the sun bearing down (Cusco apparently has THE highest UV rating in the world, according to my old friend the Internet), marginally difficult work becomes...well, not hard. But less marginal.
When the kids got home from school, we worked on homework together. They helped me with some Spanish, and I helped them with some English. Mostly, it was just saying "hi, how are you, what's your name, how old are you, nice to meet you, bye, etc..." The highlight came when Alfredo, one of the youngest at Azul Wasi, read a book written in both Spanish and English. He read the Spanish to me, excitedly, and together we read the English one word at a time. It's rewarding to watch learning become something tangible.
When the kids got home from school, we worked on homework together. They helped me with some Spanish, and I helped them with some English. Mostly, it was just saying "hi, how are you, what's your name, how old are you, nice to meet you, bye, etc..." The highlight came when Alfredo, one of the youngest at Azul Wasi, read a book written in both Spanish and English. He read the Spanish to me, excitedly, and together we read the English one word at a time. It's rewarding to watch learning become something tangible.
11.12.13
Lunch w/ Alfredo, Carmen-Rosa, Nilo. Shoveled and hauled more sand again today, and the third floor is really starting to come together.
Aside from the work, another good day of getting to know the kids little by little and, while the language barrier is still great, smiles and hugs and handshakes are universal.
Aside from the work, another good day of getting to know the kids little by little and, while the language barrier is still great, smiles and hugs and handshakes are universal.
11.13.13
Azul Wasi from above. More sand schlepping today, and I learned what happens to my face if I neglect to wear a hat in the hot sun at this altitude, with no sunscreen. I'll be looking like I have dandruff of the nose for the next week or so, which is always a good look.
I should probably talk about lunch out here, lest I forget. It always starts with a hearty soup, followed by an even heartier main course (rice, potatoes, veggies, and fish, for example). Everyone gathers around one huge table on tiny plastic stools. The English alphabet lines the walls, with pictures of whatever word is the letter example painted. No one takes a bite until grace is said, and afterwards, everyone remains on the quiet side. But that doesn't mean they don't talk a lot and give one another the business. There's a good atmosphere here.
It poured today in the afternoon after lunch, and the two turkeys - who are both pretty large - decided that would be a good time to attack one of the roosters. Before they could be stopped, they'd gouged pieces of the chickens neck, face, and chest. Carmen Rosa, eight years old and one of the youngest members of Azul Wasi, sprinted out in the rain with no jacket, scooped up the chicken and cradled it, and ran it into shelter to help nurse its wounds the best way she could. David, the general handyman and caretaker here, helped her out. It was really endearing to see her dart out there, rain be damned, to pry the thing away from the two vultures.
I should probably talk about lunch out here, lest I forget. It always starts with a hearty soup, followed by an even heartier main course (rice, potatoes, veggies, and fish, for example). Everyone gathers around one huge table on tiny plastic stools. The English alphabet lines the walls, with pictures of whatever word is the letter example painted. No one takes a bite until grace is said, and afterwards, everyone remains on the quiet side. But that doesn't mean they don't talk a lot and give one another the business. There's a good atmosphere here.
It poured today in the afternoon after lunch, and the two turkeys - who are both pretty large - decided that would be a good time to attack one of the roosters. Before they could be stopped, they'd gouged pieces of the chickens neck, face, and chest. Carmen Rosa, eight years old and one of the youngest members of Azul Wasi, sprinted out in the rain with no jacket, scooped up the chicken and cradled it, and ran it into shelter to help nurse its wounds the best way she could. David, the general handyman and caretaker here, helped her out. It was really endearing to see her dart out there, rain be damned, to pry the thing away from the two vultures.
11.14.13
A full sun up to sun down day today, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. As much as I bemoan the effort the physical labor - now with the added bonus of taking place at two miles above sea level - has required of me, I like it. So, when about 20 buckets of sand needed to be shoveled and hauled today, that was A-OK. The reward was being able to spend more time with all the kids here, help them with their homework, and see them smile and laugh in a genuine way. Lactic acid, torn muscles, and joint pain of a 97 year-old geriatric patient pale in comparison to that payoff.
There's a really odd phenomenon I've noticed on the buses in Cusco: two-stop salesmen. Let me explain. Someone gets on the bus, asks for everyone's attention, gives a speech about some product, like mints or shampoo, tries to sell them, and then gets off the bus. Sometimes you get lucky and have someone who performs a song for you before they go into their speech. Other times you get incredibly lucky, like I did tonight on the way back from Azul Wasi.
A well-groomed man in his early 30's got on the bus. He stood at the front and started to give a speech, the contents of which I didn't understand in full because of my gross inefficiency in Spanish. As he was talking, he pulled a three, maybe four inch nail out of his pocket and hit it on the hand railing to prove it was real. He then swallowed it. He took out two more and put them gradually into one nasal cavity, all the way to the end of it, and he kept talking. Shortly after, he pulled three nails out of his nose. For the grande finale, he put the nails back in his pocket, picked up a bag of cookies, and tried to sell them. Not one sale. I almost bought the whole bag just because I was in such awe of his showmanship. How was no one else on the bus as captivated?! He stood awkwardly at the front of the bus for a few more minutes, then literally skipped off it and across the street. Fascinating.
There's a really odd phenomenon I've noticed on the buses in Cusco: two-stop salesmen. Let me explain. Someone gets on the bus, asks for everyone's attention, gives a speech about some product, like mints or shampoo, tries to sell them, and then gets off the bus. Sometimes you get lucky and have someone who performs a song for you before they go into their speech. Other times you get incredibly lucky, like I did tonight on the way back from Azul Wasi.
A well-groomed man in his early 30's got on the bus. He stood at the front and started to give a speech, the contents of which I didn't understand in full because of my gross inefficiency in Spanish. As he was talking, he pulled a three, maybe four inch nail out of his pocket and hit it on the hand railing to prove it was real. He then swallowed it. He took out two more and put them gradually into one nasal cavity, all the way to the end of it, and he kept talking. Shortly after, he pulled three nails out of his nose. For the grande finale, he put the nails back in his pocket, picked up a bag of cookies, and tried to sell them. Not one sale. I almost bought the whole bag just because I was in such awe of his showmanship. How was no one else on the bus as captivated?! He stood awkwardly at the front of the bus for a few more minutes, then literally skipped off it and across the street. Fascinating.
11.15.13
My folks! Today was an incommunicably special day. My dad and stepmom, who I haven't seen in 9 months, arrived in Cusco! So good to see them. Along with Megan, seeing them in person has managed to help stave off homesickness for a bit longer. Love is a pretty wonderful thing, and I'm a lucky guy to have such great people in my life.
They included me on their upcoming tours in and around Cusco with a private guide, and I got to see many things today I ordinarily wouldn't have because of a) a lack of funds, or b) a lack of time. So that was an added bonus.
On top of that, I get to stay in their hotel for the next week in Cusco, rather than share a dorm at a hostel. I was fully prepared to sleep on a cot, on the floor, or on the front lawn. So you can imagine my surprise (and my folks') when we were upgraded in our room for free. To the presidential suite, which is basically a mini apartment. I have two queen beds in my own room, which I anticipate the best use for them being to make a monumental fort.
This is going to be a very nice respite.
They included me on their upcoming tours in and around Cusco with a private guide, and I got to see many things today I ordinarily wouldn't have because of a) a lack of funds, or b) a lack of time. So that was an added bonus.
On top of that, I get to stay in their hotel for the next week in Cusco, rather than share a dorm at a hostel. I was fully prepared to sleep on a cot, on the floor, or on the front lawn. So you can imagine my surprise (and my folks') when we were upgraded in our room for free. To the presidential suite, which is basically a mini apartment. I have two queen beds in my own room, which I anticipate the best use for them being to make a monumental fort.
This is going to be a very nice respite.
11.16.13
Incan ruins. The good thing about having a private tour guide is that it's an incredibly personal experience, you learn a lot more about whatever you're looking at or visiting than you would in the groups that pull up in a bus and are led around like chattel hither and tither, rushing from one place to the next. The bad thing is that they are expensive, chances are it'll be tough to always get one, and it'd be impossible to be a part of a massive group tour ever again. Be that as it is, it's now, which is the only thing that exists, so I'll be enjoying the private tours while we have them and looking back fondly at the experience (if and when) the time comes where I'm in one of those other ones.
Sacsay Ouman was the first stop today, and it was impressive. Perched above Cusco, it's a wide open space of green grass and ancient Incan structures. The grass is maintained by a herd of Alpaca that graze on it daily. The structures, which were 90% destroyed by the Spanish, are still impressive largely due to the awe-inspiring architectural engineering.
The Incans were masters of stone work. There's no mortar holding things together, just several thousand pound stones perfectly polished and placed atop one another. It's so perfect that a person wouldn't even be able to fit a razor blade into the spacing between the rocks. Compound that with the fact that these stones are massive, some weighing in at hundreds of thousands of pounds, and that some have 12 angles. That means other rocks needed to fit around those twelve angles perfectly. Insane.
After Sacsay Ouman, we visited two more ruin sights, both also impressive, and had a really good (private) picnic lunch. Good food, good sights, and even better company in my folks makes for an outstanding day.
Sacsay Ouman was the first stop today, and it was impressive. Perched above Cusco, it's a wide open space of green grass and ancient Incan structures. The grass is maintained by a herd of Alpaca that graze on it daily. The structures, which were 90% destroyed by the Spanish, are still impressive largely due to the awe-inspiring architectural engineering.
The Incans were masters of stone work. There's no mortar holding things together, just several thousand pound stones perfectly polished and placed atop one another. It's so perfect that a person wouldn't even be able to fit a razor blade into the spacing between the rocks. Compound that with the fact that these stones are massive, some weighing in at hundreds of thousands of pounds, and that some have 12 angles. That means other rocks needed to fit around those twelve angles perfectly. Insane.
After Sacsay Ouman, we visited two more ruin sights, both also impressive, and had a really good (private) picnic lunch. Good food, good sights, and even better company in my folks makes for an outstanding day.
11.17.13
The traditional way of cooking in Peru, so we were told, is Pachamanca: digging a hole in the ground, putting super heated rocks into the hole, along with layers of whatever meat, veggies, etc. you desire, separating each layer with banana leaves, and covering it all back up with earth. We got to sample this. It took all of 20 minutes to fully cook a boatload of potatoes, fava beans, chicken, beef, and guinea pig. Yes, guinea pig. It's a delicacy called "qui" here. While I'm not a fan of eating some kids long lost childhood pet, I'm always in favor of trying new things.
To be honest, it wasn't bad, but I wasn't the biggest fan. Chicken was delicious, as was everything else. But qui I probably won't choose to have again. Inca Cola, on the other hand, that's good stuff. If you've ever wondered what Bazooka Gum would taste like if it were made into a beverage, fly down to Peru and have yourself a bottle.
To be honest, it wasn't bad, but I wasn't the biggest fan. Chicken was delicious, as was everything else. But qui I probably won't choose to have again. Inca Cola, on the other hand, that's good stuff. If you've ever wondered what Bazooka Gum would taste like if it were made into a beverage, fly down to Peru and have yourself a bottle.
11.18.13
Azul Wasi group photo! My dad and Joanne had never volunteered in an orphanage before, and today was their first day. I wasn't sure what to expect from an emotional level, but I knew they would ultimately enjoy it. Before they came to Peru, I told them that if they were to see me, the deal would be that they'd need to mix in a week of volunteering with the sightseeing. I didn't have to twist their arms at all.
Joanne, my stepmom, grew up effectively an orphan. Her mom died when she was young, and she was one of eight siblings. Her dad couldn't afford to keep them, so they all lived with separate relatives. Her dad passed a few years later. She's one of the most even-keeled souls I've ever met, and I knew that even if the experience at Azul Wasi was powerful for her, she'd keep her cards close to the chest.
I may be biased, but that doesn't change the fact my dad is one of the best parents and role models a kid could ask for. No doubt in my mind that he'd get along great at Azul Wasi with all the kids. I anticipated his emotional reaction might be a bit stronger than Joanne's because he shows his a bit more, and this is something much more foreign to him.
It was a privilege to watch them interact with the kids, and to see how much the kids loved them. To show them a microcosm of the experiences at Nkosi's, Ebenezer, Namastae, UPSV, and now Azul Wasi, was beyond compare. The hugs, communication beyond language, and the smiles on their faces as the kids read to them, was enough to even bring a smile to the cold, iceberg of a face that is the Grinch...or simply Dick Cheney.
I'd been looking forward to this day since my folks said they'd come to Peru. It met the hopes I had for it. They were both a bit emotional at the end of the day on the long bus ride back, and the truth is if they weren't, that would've thrown me off. It's hard to describe the experience of being at a place where incredible people, especially kids, have nearly nothing. (In all honesty, the kids at Azul Wasi have a fair amount by orphanage standards, though still very simple.) It's something that needs to be seen, to be heard, to be felt - in person - to be fully understood. It gives inward perspective and reflection in a way few, if any, other things can. And I'm grateful they got the chance to experience that.
Joanne, my stepmom, grew up effectively an orphan. Her mom died when she was young, and she was one of eight siblings. Her dad couldn't afford to keep them, so they all lived with separate relatives. Her dad passed a few years later. She's one of the most even-keeled souls I've ever met, and I knew that even if the experience at Azul Wasi was powerful for her, she'd keep her cards close to the chest.
I may be biased, but that doesn't change the fact my dad is one of the best parents and role models a kid could ask for. No doubt in my mind that he'd get along great at Azul Wasi with all the kids. I anticipated his emotional reaction might be a bit stronger than Joanne's because he shows his a bit more, and this is something much more foreign to him.
It was a privilege to watch them interact with the kids, and to see how much the kids loved them. To show them a microcosm of the experiences at Nkosi's, Ebenezer, Namastae, UPSV, and now Azul Wasi, was beyond compare. The hugs, communication beyond language, and the smiles on their faces as the kids read to them, was enough to even bring a smile to the cold, iceberg of a face that is the Grinch...or simply Dick Cheney.
I'd been looking forward to this day since my folks said they'd come to Peru. It met the hopes I had for it. They were both a bit emotional at the end of the day on the long bus ride back, and the truth is if they weren't, that would've thrown me off. It's hard to describe the experience of being at a place where incredible people, especially kids, have nearly nothing. (In all honesty, the kids at Azul Wasi have a fair amount by orphanage standards, though still very simple.) It's something that needs to be seen, to be heard, to be felt - in person - to be fully understood. It gives inward perspective and reflection in a way few, if any, other things can. And I'm grateful they got the chance to experience that.
11.19.13
Joanne studying with Yulino. Chron's Disease is another one of those things that can only be explained so much, and that needs to be experienced for it to be understood in full. My dad has it, and from the last 20 years of watching the toll it can take on the body, I'm glad I don't. He was sick today, so Joanne and I went out to Azul Wasi.
For the better part of the day, I returned to my old friend, shoveling sand, while Joanne helped Anastacia in the kitchen preparing food. Anastacia is the main worker at Azul Wasi. She lives here with her five children: Wilmer, Anna-Rita, Danny, Carmen-Rosa, and her one-year old daughter whose name I can't spell correctly and don't want to butcher. She's about the size my Grandma Zetta was - five feet in heels - but is incredibly strong. She carries her baby around on her back all day while she works tirelessly in the kitchen making food and cleaning. She's a bit shy at first, but once she starts opening up and becomes comfortable, she's hilarious. It was fun to watch her and Joanne work together peeling potatoes and trying desperately to bridge the communication gap in the process.
So, the other day I taught Anastacia's 10 year-old son, Danny, the basics of boxing (not that I'm, by any means, an expert). I thought this would be good exercise for him. Turns out my intention kiiiiind of backfired. A kid at school was picking on his younger sister, and Danny bopped him upside the head and got in trouble. Oops.
For the better part of the day, I returned to my old friend, shoveling sand, while Joanne helped Anastacia in the kitchen preparing food. Anastacia is the main worker at Azul Wasi. She lives here with her five children: Wilmer, Anna-Rita, Danny, Carmen-Rosa, and her one-year old daughter whose name I can't spell correctly and don't want to butcher. She's about the size my Grandma Zetta was - five feet in heels - but is incredibly strong. She carries her baby around on her back all day while she works tirelessly in the kitchen making food and cleaning. She's a bit shy at first, but once she starts opening up and becomes comfortable, she's hilarious. It was fun to watch her and Joanne work together peeling potatoes and trying desperately to bridge the communication gap in the process.
So, the other day I taught Anastacia's 10 year-old son, Danny, the basics of boxing (not that I'm, by any means, an expert). I thought this would be good exercise for him. Turns out my intention kiiiiind of backfired. A kid at school was picking on his younger sister, and Danny bopped him upside the head and got in trouble. Oops.
11.20.13
My dad, shoveling like a champ. Feeling better, my dad was able to join Joanne and me at Azul Wasi today. I'm glad he was feeling better, because there was lots of sand to be shoveled for the third floor today and it goes much faster with more than one person. It was fun to work with him, and I was impressed that he was handling the altitude, seemingly without breaking a sweat. A year ago, that wouldn't have been possible - he's now 50 pounds lighter, and I'm incredibly proud of him.
There's a duck at Azul Wasi named Pepa. This is seemingly unremarkable, I know. But the cool thing is that he knows his name. Kind of cool. And also, when Alcides throws corn out for him, the turkeys, and the chicken to eat, he sprints from all the way across the property flapping his wings so he doesn't fall down, screaming the whole way, and seems to have a luck on his face saying, "OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEAAAAAAASE SAVE ME SOME!!". The Aflac duck doesn't hold a candle.
There's a duck at Azul Wasi named Pepa. This is seemingly unremarkable, I know. But the cool thing is that he knows his name. Kind of cool. And also, when Alcides throws corn out for him, the turkeys, and the chicken to eat, he sprints from all the way across the property flapping his wings so he doesn't fall down, screaming the whole way, and seems to have a luck on his face saying, "OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEAAAAAAASE SAVE ME SOME!!". The Aflac duck doesn't hold a candle.
11.21.13
Not pictured: the gallons of leaked oil. There's a go-kart track that meanders around a soccer field in Oropesa, a few minute walk from the orphanage, and my dad and I wanted to drive on it. To be clear, the track is immaculate and actually pretty long - the makings of a great go-kart experience. Said great go-kart experience was hindered slightly by the fact the karts were apparently built during the Industrial Revolution.
We wanted to race, but that went out the window when my kart required a push to get going by the track owner. And then it died three times on the first lap, and I had to hold a bolt on the engine block in place, which singed my hand quite nicely, just to keep the thing running. Of course, my dad's drove great. I think it goes without saying, though, that it was still an incredible experience and I wouldn't have wanted it to have happened any other way.
Today was also the last day for my folks at Azul Wasi. It was a joy to volunteer with them for the week, and to see how much they loved the kids and the kids loved them. Goodbyes were said, hugs were had, and we got a ride halfway back into town with Alcides. Then, we switched to the "rapid bus" to get into Cusco, which happened to be slower than the regular bus. That said, we had a return of the "spontaneous, impromptu bus performer salesman", and this one sang an epic song of lost love in Spanish before selling breath mints.
After work today, the three of us wanted to go to a nice dinner in town and happened upon a Peruvian steakhouse (which is unfortunately right next door to the town veterinarian :(. Holy moly it was delicious. For reference, we each got appetizers, entrees, drinks, and desert, the portions were large, and the total bill was $30/person. And that's expensive for Cusco.
We wanted to race, but that went out the window when my kart required a push to get going by the track owner. And then it died three times on the first lap, and I had to hold a bolt on the engine block in place, which singed my hand quite nicely, just to keep the thing running. Of course, my dad's drove great. I think it goes without saying, though, that it was still an incredible experience and I wouldn't have wanted it to have happened any other way.
Today was also the last day for my folks at Azul Wasi. It was a joy to volunteer with them for the week, and to see how much they loved the kids and the kids loved them. Goodbyes were said, hugs were had, and we got a ride halfway back into town with Alcides. Then, we switched to the "rapid bus" to get into Cusco, which happened to be slower than the regular bus. That said, we had a return of the "spontaneous, impromptu bus performer salesman", and this one sang an epic song of lost love in Spanish before selling breath mints.
After work today, the three of us wanted to go to a nice dinner in town and happened upon a Peruvian steakhouse (which is unfortunately right next door to the town veterinarian :(. Holy moly it was delicious. For reference, we each got appetizers, entrees, drinks, and desert, the portions were large, and the total bill was $30/person. And that's expensive for Cusco.
11.22.13
Cutest girl, and best chips, ever. A day to relax was in the cards today, and we wandered around downtown Cusco to souvenir shop and pick up some extra luggage for my folks. Being as I can speak somewhat passable Spanish at this point, I became the go-to barterer for all the shopping. While in Kenya there's pressure from 50 shop owners on you to buy their handcrafted goods which are somehow identical to the shop next door (and the one next to that), here they are relaxed and you can shop at your leisure. So, bartering here is encouraged and fun. Also, in one of the shops, a two year-old girl fell in love with me and we shared her potato chips.
Fully exhausted (jokes) after a day of souvenir shopping, we went to the Pisco Museum. It's not really a museum, that's just the name of the place that has basically every kind of Pisco known to man. Pisco is the national drink, more or less, and it's a liquor made from grapes. Like wine, but clear, and 80-100 proof. It's also delicious. It's also worth mentioning that our hotel came with free Piscos every night, and we adoringly referred to 6:45PM as "Pisco time."
If/when you come to Cusco, which should be a when, you need to have one. Or one hundred.
Fully exhausted (jokes) after a day of souvenir shopping, we went to the Pisco Museum. It's not really a museum, that's just the name of the place that has basically every kind of Pisco known to man. Pisco is the national drink, more or less, and it's a liquor made from grapes. Like wine, but clear, and 80-100 proof. It's also delicious. It's also worth mentioning that our hotel came with free Piscos every night, and we adoringly referred to 6:45PM as "Pisco time."
If/when you come to Cusco, which should be a when, you need to have one. Or one hundred.
11.23.13
Love the excitement on their faces! Situated near Cusco, but towering several thousand feet higher is a tiny, remote town called Patabamba, about 16,000 feet high. We went there with our guide and had an incredible time with a local family who took us to do some gardening, to pick leaves for dying alpaca fabric, and to see one of the best views of my life. Two of their kids, a boy (10) and a girl (8) loved having their pictures taken, but even more so loved taking pictures. I lent them my camera, and to be honest if it was destroyed accidentally by them, I wouldn't really have cared because of how fun a time they were having.
After, we went to the Pisac Ruins, which were phenomenal. I'll just put pictures here instead of blabbering on.
The day ended with us arriving at our hotel. Which actually ended up being a resort. Which also happened to be the nicest place I've ever stayed. Just as an example as to why: there's a towering fireplace in the center when you walk through the doors, and the rocks at the base are peppered with eucalyptus seeds to give the entire place a soothing aroma that's hard to describe. Hard, but not impossible, so I'll try: you know the family friend who was sort of like your grandparents, but wasn't really, and you'd go there for holiday parties and random summer days with your parents when you were little and there was always something baking in the oven and the house had the softest carpet and best natural lighting ever? Like that.
After, we went to the Pisac Ruins, which were phenomenal. I'll just put pictures here instead of blabbering on.
The day ended with us arriving at our hotel. Which actually ended up being a resort. Which also happened to be the nicest place I've ever stayed. Just as an example as to why: there's a towering fireplace in the center when you walk through the doors, and the rocks at the base are peppered with eucalyptus seeds to give the entire place a soothing aroma that's hard to describe. Hard, but not impossible, so I'll try: you know the family friend who was sort of like your grandparents, but wasn't really, and you'd go there for holiday parties and random summer days with your parents when you were little and there was always something baking in the oven and the house had the softest carpet and best natural lighting ever? Like that.
11.24.13
Local village girl. Anyone who has ever been to Vegas knows that the only thing as ubiquitous as the slot machines and escort fliers are the buffets. They're everywhere. Some are horrendous, others shockingly average, and others incredibly delicious. The breakfast buffet at the place we're staying definitely falls into the latter. I'll admit, I'm easy to please when it comes to food buffets: if it's plentiful, and delicious, and manages to be tasty, I'll be floored. And so began my quest to start adding back the 15 pounds I lost between Vietnam and Cambodia...
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that it was hard to rationalize the concept of a food buffet, let alone being at one and participating in it, when the last 9 months have been spent with kids who have extremely limited nutritional resources or options. Even now, as I volunteer at Azul Wasi - which, compared to the food scarcity at many of the other orphanages, is pretty well off - I can't help but wonder what it would be like to introduce the kids to the concept of unlimited delicious food.
This is something that would ordinarily see me overcome with so much guilt that I'd leave the buffet entirely, unable to reconcile the visions of the kids at Ebenezer going to school on one meal a day while I sit with a never-ending supply of kiwi tarts and smoked salmon scrambled eggs. But the thing I've come to realize is: not a solitary child out of the hundreds of incredible ones I've been blessed to spend time with would begrudge me, or you, the opportunity to enjoy something luxurious like a buffet of food. It's the volition that one carries into it, the mindfulness, that determines whether it's right or wrong.
For what it's worth, one of the billion things I've learned from the kids on the journey is that everyone likes to indulge when possible, to be a little extravagant, and there's nothing wrong with that on it's own. But if it becomes a habit and the images of their faces fade, and action isn't taken to give back so they can have the freedom to enjoy an equal luxury, then there's a problem. So, indulge mindfully, with reverence and respect, and appreciate it while it lasts because it's temporary like everything else. As it should be.
After breakfast, another day of incredible sightseeing. The Ollayantatambo Ruins, Maras salt mines, Moray terraces...and for lunch? A buffet. Go figure.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that it was hard to rationalize the concept of a food buffet, let alone being at one and participating in it, when the last 9 months have been spent with kids who have extremely limited nutritional resources or options. Even now, as I volunteer at Azul Wasi - which, compared to the food scarcity at many of the other orphanages, is pretty well off - I can't help but wonder what it would be like to introduce the kids to the concept of unlimited delicious food.
This is something that would ordinarily see me overcome with so much guilt that I'd leave the buffet entirely, unable to reconcile the visions of the kids at Ebenezer going to school on one meal a day while I sit with a never-ending supply of kiwi tarts and smoked salmon scrambled eggs. But the thing I've come to realize is: not a solitary child out of the hundreds of incredible ones I've been blessed to spend time with would begrudge me, or you, the opportunity to enjoy something luxurious like a buffet of food. It's the volition that one carries into it, the mindfulness, that determines whether it's right or wrong.
For what it's worth, one of the billion things I've learned from the kids on the journey is that everyone likes to indulge when possible, to be a little extravagant, and there's nothing wrong with that on it's own. But if it becomes a habit and the images of their faces fade, and action isn't taken to give back so they can have the freedom to enjoy an equal luxury, then there's a problem. So, indulge mindfully, with reverence and respect, and appreciate it while it lasts because it's temporary like everything else. As it should be.
After breakfast, another day of incredible sightseeing. The Ollayantatambo Ruins, Maras salt mines, Moray terraces...and for lunch? A buffet. Go figure.
11.25.13
Two local women, collecting herbs. There are two main ways a person can get to Machu Picchu: one is via the Inca Trail hike, and the other is by taking the train, or walking from a nearby hydroelectric damn, to a tiny town named Agua Caliente. There are no cars in Agua Caliente, save for the buses that run 12 hours a day up and down the zig-zag switchback of the road that leads to Machu Picchu. The town exists only to serve as the basecamp for those heading to MP. Not having the energy or funds to do the Inca Trail this time down, I opted for the cheap train.
It's an interesting process, boarding. There's not really any direction, and I'm sure anyone could just hop on without proof of a ticket. So there I was, waiting for my train when a really fancy one pulled up. I wanted to walk along the tracks to the front to take a picture of it, as it's nestled in a valley, buttressed by mountains - quite scenic.
As I walked parallel to the line of older white folks clamoring to get on, I was elbowed in the chest by a guy of about 70. "Hey, this isn't for you" he said as he held his elbow firmly in my sternum. (What gave him the hint that I wasn't first class eligible? The unkempt beard? The paint and mud splattered workpants?). I politely removed his hand and said "First of all, I'm just going to take a picture. Second, you don't need to talk to people like that." I just...don't understand why some people go out of their way to be turds to others.
When my train did finally arrive, a few people were furiously trying to get off, so I stepped aside. As I, and the few people behind me were loading on, the train blew its whistle and the people who disembarked sprinted back on, using me as a point of balance to push off. Strike two, rich folks. Strike. Two.
I was happy to hear that I had a window seat, though. But I was less happy to see it.
This was the equivalent of being the person who saved up for years to take a trip to Fenway, only to have his seat be the only one located right behind the proprietary beam in right field.
Machu Picchu ahoy!
It's an interesting process, boarding. There's not really any direction, and I'm sure anyone could just hop on without proof of a ticket. So there I was, waiting for my train when a really fancy one pulled up. I wanted to walk along the tracks to the front to take a picture of it, as it's nestled in a valley, buttressed by mountains - quite scenic.
As I walked parallel to the line of older white folks clamoring to get on, I was elbowed in the chest by a guy of about 70. "Hey, this isn't for you" he said as he held his elbow firmly in my sternum. (What gave him the hint that I wasn't first class eligible? The unkempt beard? The paint and mud splattered workpants?). I politely removed his hand and said "First of all, I'm just going to take a picture. Second, you don't need to talk to people like that." I just...don't understand why some people go out of their way to be turds to others.
When my train did finally arrive, a few people were furiously trying to get off, so I stepped aside. As I, and the few people behind me were loading on, the train blew its whistle and the people who disembarked sprinted back on, using me as a point of balance to push off. Strike two, rich folks. Strike. Two.
I was happy to hear that I had a window seat, though. But I was less happy to see it.
This was the equivalent of being the person who saved up for years to take a trip to Fenway, only to have his seat be the only one located right behind the proprietary beam in right field.
Machu Picchu ahoy!
11.26.13
Sorry for getting in the way of this... If and when (and it should just be a when) you visit Machu Picchu, you'll have the option of two ticket choices: one grants you access to the grounds of MP, the other lets you be a part of the couple hundred people each day that get to hike up to Huayna Picchu. Do the second one.
I had to get up at 4:45 in order to make the bus to get in line at the top in time, but when you're on the way up on the hike, and the sun is just creeping over the edges of the monuments as clouds surround you in solitude, words and thoughts cease to exist. You just...are. I could go on and on about how beautiful it was, and how it looks like Michelangelo is still alive and doing incredible 3D renderings and placing them in the middle of a rainforest near the Andes, but instead I'll just post some pictures (which still won't do it justice).
I had to get up at 4:45 in order to make the bus to get in line at the top in time, but when you're on the way up on the hike, and the sun is just creeping over the edges of the monuments as clouds surround you in solitude, words and thoughts cease to exist. You just...are. I could go on and on about how beautiful it was, and how it looks like Michelangelo is still alive and doing incredible 3D renderings and placing them in the middle of a rainforest near the Andes, but instead I'll just post some pictures (which still won't do it justice).
Marv Meyer, hero of mine and many others. Joanne and my dad arrived at MP at about 1130, and we got to spend the hold day romping around one of the most impressive architectural marvels in human history, a man with his PhD in archaeology and anthropology as our guide. He was incredibly illuminating, and also sounded like a speak and spell.
It was a dream come true to be here. For the scenery, for the history, for the sheer gravitas of the experience...but also because I've carried around a picture of one of the greatest life teachers I've ever had in this very same spot. He died a little over a year ago of a sudden brain tumor. He was one of the most noble and wise human beings I've ever known. To have been able to be where he was, with visible reverence and adoration on his face, was the stuff of myth.
P.S. On the train ride back, I got to ride first class with my folks. There was a runway fashion show, conducted by the train stewards. Yes!
It was a dream come true to be here. For the scenery, for the history, for the sheer gravitas of the experience...but also because I've carried around a picture of one of the greatest life teachers I've ever had in this very same spot. He died a little over a year ago of a sudden brain tumor. He was one of the most noble and wise human beings I've ever known. To have been able to be where he was, with visible reverence and adoration on his face, was the stuff of myth.
P.S. On the train ride back, I got to ride first class with my folks. There was a runway fashion show, conducted by the train stewards. Yes!
11.27.13
Dad and Alfredo. English/Spanish lessons. To say that it seems "weird" to be writing about the adventure from within the confines of a four star resort, while nibbling on smoked salmon and sipping on a home-brewed concoction of muna and coca tea is about right. To say that this part of the adventure with my folks has been "awesome" would be a severe understatement. To say that I'm filled with awe, joy, and inexpressible gratitude at the opportunity of being able to see the sights I have, the amazing people I've met - many of whom I'll never see again - and the experiences that've turned into memories as time does what it will, is as good as I can come do with my sloppy writing to capture the sense of wonder and marvel at the beauty of life that was, will be, and is now.
11.28.13
I tried to capture "time flying" in a picture. Time seems to have a way of always working against us. Have you noticed that? Especially when it comes to times where there is boundless smiles and fun had, it passes in the blink of a hummingbird's wing. As quickly as my folks joined the adventure, it was time for them to depart.
For these last couple weeks, I couldn't have imagined better travel companions and I'm so happy to have had the chance to share this journey with them.
Back to Cusco for the night to catch up on some journaling and work before heading back to Azul Wasi in the morning.
For these last couple weeks, I couldn't have imagined better travel companions and I'm so happy to have had the chance to share this journey with them.
Back to Cusco for the night to catch up on some journaling and work before heading back to Azul Wasi in the morning.
11.29.13
Anastasia and her daughter. The tuk-tuk, my old friend, is back. Since I've been staying at the hostel and commuting to Azul Wasi, all of my stuff was with me. So after balancing 3 backpacks on my lap for the hour long bus ride out to Oropesa, I splurged and got a 3 sol tuk-tuk for the walk to Azul Wasi.
When I arrived, the kids had just finished up with school and lunch. I was only gone for a little over a week, so I didn't expect any fanfare upon my return. So I was surprised when Alfredo, Nilo, Carmen-Rosa, and Danny all stormed me with hugs and yells of "Amigo Alex!". Surprised and heart-warmed. They even helped me with my luggage, which I quickly realized was a simple coup to get me out of the tuk-tuk so they could climb into it and romp around like it was their own personal bounce-house.
Spending the first night out here was such a wonderful experience, and I'm looking forward to the next month of it. The only thing that'll be a challenge is eating enough to keep my weight. Dinner is really simple: bread and tea. It's delicious, and I'm grateful for it, but I'm an ectomorph and gotta get my calories in somehow. A worthy tradeoff to sit and stargaze with 14 incredible kids after watching the sun melt away over the rolling hills of a Peruvian valley.
When I arrived, the kids had just finished up with school and lunch. I was only gone for a little over a week, so I didn't expect any fanfare upon my return. So I was surprised when Alfredo, Nilo, Carmen-Rosa, and Danny all stormed me with hugs and yells of "Amigo Alex!". Surprised and heart-warmed. They even helped me with my luggage, which I quickly realized was a simple coup to get me out of the tuk-tuk so they could climb into it and romp around like it was their own personal bounce-house.
Spending the first night out here was such a wonderful experience, and I'm looking forward to the next month of it. The only thing that'll be a challenge is eating enough to keep my weight. Dinner is really simple: bread and tea. It's delicious, and I'm grateful for it, but I'm an ectomorph and gotta get my calories in somehow. A worthy tradeoff to sit and stargaze with 14 incredible kids after watching the sun melt away over the rolling hills of a Peruvian valley.
11.30.13
Alcides at the market. Were I to make a list of all of the faces, places, and experiences I miss on this journey, it'd be long enough for Rapunzel to fashion into rope and escape (if she were still up in her castle, that is, which would make her…really old. And probably dead. Well, that's depressing. But you know what I mean). However, one of the tiny handful of things that I haven't missed is cold showers. And I mean COLD showers. The kind where when you put your head under the water your brain feels like you just took a 30 second long slug of 7-11 blue raspberry slushy. But hey, it beats smelling like I probably do right now.
One things my folks wanted to be sure I did when they left was to get a couple week's worth of food for Azul Wasi with the money they donated. I told Alcides, and he wanted me to go with him to the market to see just how much food the money would buy (a good sign of a good orphanage director: keeping finances transparent).
So we, together with Wilmer and Alcides' daughter, went into town to the biggest outdoor market I've ever seen. Imagine Pike's Place in Seattle. Now double that, put it outside, and double it again. That's about halfway as big as this place. Row after row, stall after stall, of fresh vegetables, aromatic flowers, severed pig's heads…and thousands of patrons navigating the vendors to buy all they needed.
So how much food did $100 get Azul Wasi? Roughly 30 pounds of grains, 30 pounds of vegetables, 20 pounds of fruit, 10 pounds of fish, 10 pounds of chicken, 10 pounds of beef, 5 pounds of cheese, and more that I'm forgetting right now. Pretty wild, I'd say. Pretty. Wild.
One things my folks wanted to be sure I did when they left was to get a couple week's worth of food for Azul Wasi with the money they donated. I told Alcides, and he wanted me to go with him to the market to see just how much food the money would buy (a good sign of a good orphanage director: keeping finances transparent).
So we, together with Wilmer and Alcides' daughter, went into town to the biggest outdoor market I've ever seen. Imagine Pike's Place in Seattle. Now double that, put it outside, and double it again. That's about halfway as big as this place. Row after row, stall after stall, of fresh vegetables, aromatic flowers, severed pig's heads…and thousands of patrons navigating the vendors to buy all they needed.
So how much food did $100 get Azul Wasi? Roughly 30 pounds of grains, 30 pounds of vegetables, 20 pounds of fruit, 10 pounds of fish, 10 pounds of chicken, 10 pounds of beef, 5 pounds of cheese, and more that I'm forgetting right now. Pretty wild, I'd say. Pretty. Wild.
12.1.13
Jubal breaking rocks. Haven't had the chance to wield a hammer since South Africa, and for as self-deprecating as I am about my lack of general muscle and such, I sure can drive a nail straight. That came in handy while building a huge new pen for the guinea pigs of Azul Wasi, and also for impressing Alcides and the kids with my seemingly deft hammer skills.
The good news is that after the brief period of showing off, I was brought back down to size when my next task was breaking rocks with a sledgehammer. So there's that.
In high school, a group of friends and I would spend long summer days making five minute movie masterpieces, which usually revolved around some form of butchered kung fu or cap guns. Filmmaking then just felt…magic. To be honest, much of the drudgery of film school kind of lifted away a lot of that, or maybe I'd just become more interested in other pursuits. Working on a video documentary for the adventure certainly has helped to make the process of filmmaking fun again, and returned some of the magic. Another thing that did, in a big way today, was helping Dante make a movie for a school project.
A couple neighbor kids, along with Danny, Alfredo, and Nilo, transformed into pocket-camera thespians for his school project (which I have no clue what it was about, and I don't think language was the culprit), with Dante behind the lens directing all the actions. It helped re-ignite the film spark that had been dormant in me for quite some time, and reminded me of the alchemy that can turn a regular old school day with friends into gold.
The good news is that after the brief period of showing off, I was brought back down to size when my next task was breaking rocks with a sledgehammer. So there's that.
In high school, a group of friends and I would spend long summer days making five minute movie masterpieces, which usually revolved around some form of butchered kung fu or cap guns. Filmmaking then just felt…magic. To be honest, much of the drudgery of film school kind of lifted away a lot of that, or maybe I'd just become more interested in other pursuits. Working on a video documentary for the adventure certainly has helped to make the process of filmmaking fun again, and returned some of the magic. Another thing that did, in a big way today, was helping Dante make a movie for a school project.
A couple neighbor kids, along with Danny, Alfredo, and Nilo, transformed into pocket-camera thespians for his school project (which I have no clue what it was about, and I don't think language was the culprit), with Dante behind the lens directing all the actions. It helped re-ignite the film spark that had been dormant in me for quite some time, and reminded me of the alchemy that can turn a regular old school day with friends into gold.
12.2.13
Laura, resident Azul Wasi parrot. This morning I walked to the "corner" store (which is a mud shack on a tiny dirt road) to pick up some essential supplies, like Coca-Cola, tuna, and saltine crackers. I know that my Spanish is getting better, because the 70 year-old lady behind the counter called me "papi," which is just plain great.
Fortifications in hand, I started on the bulk of my work today, which was plowing the rows of corn in the Azul Wasi gardens. I was surprised at the relative ease with which my lungs were handling the work at altitude, and that the whole process of plowing, weeding, watering, and reorganizing by hand went pretty smoothly. That is, until I realized that my t-shirt had stuck to my back for the many hours I was bent over using the ho, which resulted in a sunburn 4 inches high and the width of my entire back.
You win this round, sun. Again.
Fortifications in hand, I started on the bulk of my work today, which was plowing the rows of corn in the Azul Wasi gardens. I was surprised at the relative ease with which my lungs were handling the work at altitude, and that the whole process of plowing, weeding, watering, and reorganizing by hand went pretty smoothly. That is, until I realized that my t-shirt had stuck to my back for the many hours I was bent over using the ho, which resulted in a sunburn 4 inches high and the width of my entire back.
You win this round, sun. Again.
12.3.13
The moon tonight, before the rains. It's absolutely pouring rain tonight. Not quite on the monsoon scale of Nepal, but it sounds about twice as fierce when it splatters down on a metal roof. I love this sound. To me, it's one of the greatest harbingers of solitude and inward silence. I'm sitting and watching the rain dance over the shadows of the mountains, illuminated every little while by the lightning rolling through. This is one of those moments where it hit me: I'm in Peru. I'm really present, really here, now. Romania, South Africa, Kenya, Nepal, Cambodia, Vietnam…they all seem like they happened yesterday and also ten years in the past. Cycling through memories is something I haven't really had the chance to do until now. Maybe that's not true. Maybe I've had the chance, but I'm just not that nostalgic. Whatever it is, I'm happy to have the chance right now in this moment.
After plowing the corn fields some more, some of the kids and I worked on their English homework, and they taught me Spanish. I'd ask them to teach me Kechua, too, but something tells me they'd laugh at me even more. That said, helping them laugh more is one of the main goals, so it looks like tomorrow I'll be learning some Kechua.
Alfredo and I usually sit near each other, and we have a game we play at dinner (tea and bread) time, and it goes like this: you reach behind the other's back and poke them on the shoulder, and then act casual and blame it on someone or something else, like the kid across the table or one of the dogs or a fly. Complex, I know, but I didn't make the rules. It certainly brings a smile to his face, so the game shall continue.
After plowing the corn fields some more, some of the kids and I worked on their English homework, and they taught me Spanish. I'd ask them to teach me Kechua, too, but something tells me they'd laugh at me even more. That said, helping them laugh more is one of the main goals, so it looks like tomorrow I'll be learning some Kechua.
Alfredo and I usually sit near each other, and we have a game we play at dinner (tea and bread) time, and it goes like this: you reach behind the other's back and poke them on the shoulder, and then act casual and blame it on someone or something else, like the kid across the table or one of the dogs or a fly. Complex, I know, but I didn't make the rules. It certainly brings a smile to his face, so the game shall continue.
12.4.13
Rivers after rain. Though the torrential rains don't flood the crops or the valleys here, they do have the tendency to overload the water supply (sorry, friends in California) at times, resulting in excessive runoff and mud and dirt getting into the system. To be clear, all of the water here is far from pure out of the tap, and it needs to be boiled before drinking. But when it's the color of chocolate milk, well…there are some things boiling won't even fix.
I went into Cusco today for an overnight at the trusty old hostel, Dragonfly, and got some good writing and picture editing in. I also stumbled upon a new menu del dia place, which yielded pizza, salad, soup, and wine for about $4. The waiter happened to be an ex Navy Seal from Florida, who now lives in Peru with his wife after having lived in Colombia for about 10 years. After I finished he wanted to know if I could help him promote the restaurant a little bit, so we walked around the city. That's when he showed me the fresh scar on his neck.
Apparently, he stumbled into a part of Cusco where he wasn't supposed to be, got held up by a group of guys and stabbed near the jugular, and required 16 stitches. Sure, he could've been making it all up, but it's a good reminder to not get too lax when walking around in a city where not a local. He asked what I was doing in Cusco, so I told him about the trip. He told me he used to operate an orphanage of sorts about 2 hours away, but the bureaucracy of it all motivated him to close it. I was going to start recording him talking about what happened, but when I started to ask further he changed the subject and proceeded to try to sell me a suit he had stashed behind the counter at the restaurant. Interesting night.
I went into Cusco today for an overnight at the trusty old hostel, Dragonfly, and got some good writing and picture editing in. I also stumbled upon a new menu del dia place, which yielded pizza, salad, soup, and wine for about $4. The waiter happened to be an ex Navy Seal from Florida, who now lives in Peru with his wife after having lived in Colombia for about 10 years. After I finished he wanted to know if I could help him promote the restaurant a little bit, so we walked around the city. That's when he showed me the fresh scar on his neck.
Apparently, he stumbled into a part of Cusco where he wasn't supposed to be, got held up by a group of guys and stabbed near the jugular, and required 16 stitches. Sure, he could've been making it all up, but it's a good reminder to not get too lax when walking around in a city where not a local. He asked what I was doing in Cusco, so I told him about the trip. He told me he used to operate an orphanage of sorts about 2 hours away, but the bureaucracy of it all motivated him to close it. I was going to start recording him talking about what happened, but when I started to ask further he changed the subject and proceeded to try to sell me a suit he had stashed behind the counter at the restaurant. Interesting night.
12.5.13
Machu Picchu, just after sunrise. Lots more work done today! Bought the domains for the trip documentary and trip photography, among more writing and website maintenance. The tedious work is sometimes a nice change of pace from the manual labor and, even though I didn't have a chance to watch a movie or read a book as planned, I was happy to get some work done.
I got back to Azul Wasi in the evening, just as dinner was being served. While it certainly isn't filling in the least, it's impossible to beat the company of the kids, not to mention the free Spanish lessons that ensue. When I get back home, tea time with everyone at Azul Wasi is definitely something I will miss.
The night ended with us gathering around a tiny computer monitor watching a poorly bootlegged copy of Lord of the Rings, dubbed in Spanish. Whoever they got to play Gandalf had to have been the guy from the "Most Interesting Man in the World" commercials. Stellar.
I got back to Azul Wasi in the evening, just as dinner was being served. While it certainly isn't filling in the least, it's impossible to beat the company of the kids, not to mention the free Spanish lessons that ensue. When I get back home, tea time with everyone at Azul Wasi is definitely something I will miss.
The night ended with us gathering around a tiny computer monitor watching a poorly bootlegged copy of Lord of the Rings, dubbed in Spanish. Whoever they got to play Gandalf had to have been the guy from the "Most Interesting Man in the World" commercials. Stellar.
12.6.13
On the way to Azul Wasi. Happy to say that it'll only be a few short days before hot water is connected to the showers at Azul Wasi! I have limited plumbing knowledge, but I do know how to attach PVC pipes to one another, so pitching in was something I was happily able to do. Afterwards, I hopped on over to the kitchen to ask Anastasia if there was any chores with which she needed help, and she laughed and pointed me in the direction of the pile of dishes. I don't mind washing dishes. It's a form of meditation, and I find it strangely relaxing.
In the evening, I was invited to attend an open house get-together for Bautista, Hernan, and Ana Rita at the culinary school in Cusco, where they attend night classes every day after high school. I remember how wiped out I'd be after a full day of classes alone, so the fact that they go to more class afterwards is dedication and a half. It's inspiring to see them chasing dreams and putting in work that would, much like so many of the kids and caretakers met along the way, make Sisyphus look like a chump.
After hopping off the bus, Anastasia (with the little one bundled to her back, of course), Carmen Rosa, Jubal and I entered the open house. Turns out, the place is a mega tech school, not just a culinary one. They also offer cosmetology, computer, and daycare training, in addition to the culinary arts. While I didn't understand all that was said by the guide who was showing us and some other parents around, I did understand enough to know that the curriculum is very hands on and intensive, which is a really good thing to see. I also was polished enough in my Spanish to know when to eat food that was served to me.
Nighttime had fallen, and finding a bus at the bus stop proved to be a little tricky. While we were waiting, Jubal saw an elderly woman crossing the highway with a couple big bags of groceries. Before I could move a muscle, he sprinted into action without hesitation, and hoisted all of the bags onto his back to help the lady across the street. Random acts of kindness like this really speak volumes to the character of these kids. Despite the demons in their background, despite the struggles they overcame, despite the battles they are still waging daily, they still take time to help those in the same fight, so that it may be a little easier for another.
When we finally found a bus going our way, it was a tour bus, like a greyhound. I don't know if we crashed it, or if it was just decommissioned and now only used for shuttling around the city, but in any case, it was packed so we stood in the aisle. In the same vein of Vietnam, the ceiling was about 5'8", so ducking was necessary. Also, basically everyone on the bus was asleep, which definitely led me to believe we were crashing said tour bus.
I heard "Nelson Mandela" and "muerte" in the same sentence over the radio on the bus, and that's how I learned of his passing. I can't help but think of all the kids and women at Nkosi's, and how hard this must be on all of them. I hope there is a sense of peace throughout South Africa that comes with his passing, as folks remember what he stood for and still will as he lives on in the hearts and minds of everyone who heard his message.
As we walked back through Oropesa, Jubal and I separated from the rest of our companions a bit. It was a clear night, and the sky looked like the ocean at sunset: a million shining diamonds, shimmering on as they always do and always will. Our conversation meandered through talking about the cosmos, the beauty of life, and his childhood.
It's nights like this that will make it impossible for me to explain how hard it will be to leave here, how hard it has been to leave everywhere.
In the evening, I was invited to attend an open house get-together for Bautista, Hernan, and Ana Rita at the culinary school in Cusco, where they attend night classes every day after high school. I remember how wiped out I'd be after a full day of classes alone, so the fact that they go to more class afterwards is dedication and a half. It's inspiring to see them chasing dreams and putting in work that would, much like so many of the kids and caretakers met along the way, make Sisyphus look like a chump.
After hopping off the bus, Anastasia (with the little one bundled to her back, of course), Carmen Rosa, Jubal and I entered the open house. Turns out, the place is a mega tech school, not just a culinary one. They also offer cosmetology, computer, and daycare training, in addition to the culinary arts. While I didn't understand all that was said by the guide who was showing us and some other parents around, I did understand enough to know that the curriculum is very hands on and intensive, which is a really good thing to see. I also was polished enough in my Spanish to know when to eat food that was served to me.
Nighttime had fallen, and finding a bus at the bus stop proved to be a little tricky. While we were waiting, Jubal saw an elderly woman crossing the highway with a couple big bags of groceries. Before I could move a muscle, he sprinted into action without hesitation, and hoisted all of the bags onto his back to help the lady across the street. Random acts of kindness like this really speak volumes to the character of these kids. Despite the demons in their background, despite the struggles they overcame, despite the battles they are still waging daily, they still take time to help those in the same fight, so that it may be a little easier for another.
When we finally found a bus going our way, it was a tour bus, like a greyhound. I don't know if we crashed it, or if it was just decommissioned and now only used for shuttling around the city, but in any case, it was packed so we stood in the aisle. In the same vein of Vietnam, the ceiling was about 5'8", so ducking was necessary. Also, basically everyone on the bus was asleep, which definitely led me to believe we were crashing said tour bus.
I heard "Nelson Mandela" and "muerte" in the same sentence over the radio on the bus, and that's how I learned of his passing. I can't help but think of all the kids and women at Nkosi's, and how hard this must be on all of them. I hope there is a sense of peace throughout South Africa that comes with his passing, as folks remember what he stood for and still will as he lives on in the hearts and minds of everyone who heard his message.
As we walked back through Oropesa, Jubal and I separated from the rest of our companions a bit. It was a clear night, and the sky looked like the ocean at sunset: a million shining diamonds, shimmering on as they always do and always will. Our conversation meandered through talking about the cosmos, the beauty of life, and his childhood.
It's nights like this that will make it impossible for me to explain how hard it will be to leave here, how hard it has been to leave everywhere.
12.7.13
Dishwashing meditation. Harkening back to my days in Kenya spent mixing cement, I spent a couple hours today mixing a pile of the stuff, loading it into buckets, and hoisting them on my shoulder and up the rickety winding staircase to the third floor. At last, the bathroom is almost done, as is the whole third story! Pictures soon.
Also, remember how the other day I washed a pile of dishes? Well…today I had a really long session of dishwashing meditation.
Also, remember how the other day I washed a pile of dishes? Well…today I had a really long session of dishwashing meditation.
12.8.13
Alfredo, shower time. Though the piping wasn't finished being connected to the bathroom, it was in place on the roof, zigzagging across it so the sun can warm the water rapidly as it passes through. Alcides thought it would be a good idea to open the tap and tilt the hose toward the ground so some of the kids could shower. It was, definitely, a great idea.
There are few smiles I've seen in my life bigger than the ones Nilo, Alfredo, and Ivan had while they took a hot shower for the first time ever. Remember your first time on a slip-n-slide? That's what this was like. They danced around in their tightie-whities under the tap, singing at the top of their lungs. Alcides asked me to film and take pictures of it, so I went and got my camera. When I got back, they were all naked. I asked Alcides if he still wanted me to film. "Of course!" he exclaimed. I explained to him that in the US this would probably be frowned upon, and the police would probably show up in 17 seconds if they heard a guy with a big beard was filming naked kids showering outside. He laughed, completely understood, but wanted me to capture the sheer joy on all of their faces. So that's what I did.
Here's hoping I make it through customs without having my footage scanned through…
Also, Jubal wanted to hear my music so I rapped a couple songs for him. He really liked them! Looks like I've finally got my rap student for Azul Wasi!
There are few smiles I've seen in my life bigger than the ones Nilo, Alfredo, and Ivan had while they took a hot shower for the first time ever. Remember your first time on a slip-n-slide? That's what this was like. They danced around in their tightie-whities under the tap, singing at the top of their lungs. Alcides asked me to film and take pictures of it, so I went and got my camera. When I got back, they were all naked. I asked Alcides if he still wanted me to film. "Of course!" he exclaimed. I explained to him that in the US this would probably be frowned upon, and the police would probably show up in 17 seconds if they heard a guy with a big beard was filming naked kids showering outside. He laughed, completely understood, but wanted me to capture the sheer joy on all of their faces. So that's what I did.
Here's hoping I make it through customs without having my footage scanned through…
Also, Jubal wanted to hear my music so I rapped a couple songs for him. He really liked them! Looks like I've finally got my rap student for Azul Wasi!
12.9 - 12.10.13
Peruvian traffic jams. Went to Cusco for a little R&R this weekend, but ended up working most of the time editing pictures and writing the Romania journal. Definitely no complaints though. It was nice to have a warm shower, a soft bed, and to be able to finally watch Gravity (which was awesome by the way!). On the night of the 10th, I got food poisoning which wasn't the most fun. By now, you're probably accustomed to reading those words at least once or twice per journal, but I can assure you: I'm not accustomed to the accompanying diarrhea and night sweats and what have you. I'm actually surprised it took this long to hit me again. Also, it's always unfortunate when you finish going to the bathroom, in a crowded public restroom, and recognize there's no TP left in your stall, and when you wait in there for the crowd to thin out, the last person who leaves turns out the lights.
12.11.13
It's good to be back! Jubal was really excited to start on his rap lesson today - an enthusiastic student is an inspiring thing. We went over the standards: confidence, rhythm, rhyme, cadence, syllables, breath control...but this time it was with the added element of explaining it all in Spanish. Not the easiest of tasks, but by lessons end, if his added exuberance was any indication, all was communicated correctly, or at least understandably! I'm really looking forward to hearing what he creates.
Also, beyond happy to report that the hot water is now fully operational in the showers! It's conditional on the sun, and there's a leak in the hose on the roof that heats the water, but hey. It's something.
Also, beyond happy to report that the hot water is now fully operational in the showers! It's conditional on the sun, and there's a leak in the hose on the roof that heats the water, but hey. It's something.
12.12.13
Post fight nap and hugs. Had a restless night of sleep with a killer headache last night. Nothing that spending the day with these amazing kids won't heal.
Alfredo, Nilo, Danny, and Carmen-Rosa were playing in the grass in the late afternoon and dusk. It's always amazing to me how any of us make it out of childhood alive. Watching some of the spills they take, and remembering times when I would be on the receiving end of my older brother's fist, or fall time and again when learning how to ride a bike, or just out of the blue slide down a hill, I can't help but think our bones and joints must've been made of rubber. I mean, as I'm typing this, my shoulder is hurting just from typing. Typing! I'm not even moving!
So there I was filming them romping around, when Alfredo takes one of those spills where you think, "holy lord, is he breathing??? No really, check his pulse! Give him some space!! I'll call an ambula-" and then he pops up and pushes the other kid. And then he falls back on the ground and does his best impersonation of Cristiano Ranaldo getting tripped and pleading to the ref to see his agony at stubbing a toe. And then, when he realizes everyone knows he's faking it, hops right back up and starts wrestling again. I guess these are my reflections on childhood for the day.
Also, I got a hot pot today, so no more bottled water will be needed. It tastes a little on the funky side, but it's safe and will keep piles of plastic out of the landfill. Minor victories.
Alfredo, Nilo, Danny, and Carmen-Rosa were playing in the grass in the late afternoon and dusk. It's always amazing to me how any of us make it out of childhood alive. Watching some of the spills they take, and remembering times when I would be on the receiving end of my older brother's fist, or fall time and again when learning how to ride a bike, or just out of the blue slide down a hill, I can't help but think our bones and joints must've been made of rubber. I mean, as I'm typing this, my shoulder is hurting just from typing. Typing! I'm not even moving!
So there I was filming them romping around, when Alfredo takes one of those spills where you think, "holy lord, is he breathing??? No really, check his pulse! Give him some space!! I'll call an ambula-" and then he pops up and pushes the other kid. And then he falls back on the ground and does his best impersonation of Cristiano Ranaldo getting tripped and pleading to the ref to see his agony at stubbing a toe. And then, when he realizes everyone knows he's faking it, hops right back up and starts wrestling again. I guess these are my reflections on childhood for the day.
Also, I got a hot pot today, so no more bottled water will be needed. It tastes a little on the funky side, but it's safe and will keep piles of plastic out of the landfill. Minor victories.
12.13.13
School in Oropesa. Today I had the opportunity to go to school with the kids. It was awesome.
It's a mile down the road from Azul Wasi, and is K-12. They are nearing the end of their school term and coming up on Summer vacation, so they had an open house today. I took along my camera, as always, just in case there were some shots that came up that'd be useful for the documentary or just my own memories.
99.9% of kids in the travels absolutely love being in front of the camera, but the kids at the school here…they love being in front of the camera. I spent about an hour outside in the courtyard, intending on filming B-Roll and environment shots, and ended up having an hours worth of kids posing for the camera, playing tag, and generally just being ridiculously photogenic. The whole time I was outside, there was a combination of recess, P.E., and lunch all happening simultaneously which helped make for interesting footage.
School lunch here is a little different than back home. Rather than having pre-packaged frozen meals with 73 ingredients just for the crust on the pizza, served by under appreciated and underpaid workers, revered women in the community get together and have local, fresh, wholesome homemade food in little booths right in the middle of the school. I went over and got a huge plate of ceviche and rice for 60 cents. Now, I was lucky to have parents who brown-bagged lunch for me almost every day of my school career, and I always felt beyond fortunate for that; it was also always delicious. But if I had the chance to have this food everyday, for 60 cents, well, it'd be hard to pass.
After walking back to Azul Wasi, Anastasia asked me if I could again accompany her to school for what I understood to be a reunion of sorts for the fathers of the kids at school. Something got lost in translation.
We arrived to a packed auditorium, of predominantly women, with a younger woman on stage giving a Powerpoint presentation on the prevention of sexual abuse of children. Then a guy got on stage promptly after and gave a 20 minute speech about the importance of encyclopedias and tried to sell them for $100, which may as well be $1 million for many of the families here. Adding to the confusion, he got more applause than the woman who gave an impassioned presentation on the prevention of sexual abuse.
When I got back to Azul Wasi, Jubal was pumped to show me what he'd written for his verse. I asked him to write 4 bars, and he wrote 8. Overachiever. They're good, too! Excited to hear the rest and help him along the way!
It's a mile down the road from Azul Wasi, and is K-12. They are nearing the end of their school term and coming up on Summer vacation, so they had an open house today. I took along my camera, as always, just in case there were some shots that came up that'd be useful for the documentary or just my own memories.
99.9% of kids in the travels absolutely love being in front of the camera, but the kids at the school here…they love being in front of the camera. I spent about an hour outside in the courtyard, intending on filming B-Roll and environment shots, and ended up having an hours worth of kids posing for the camera, playing tag, and generally just being ridiculously photogenic. The whole time I was outside, there was a combination of recess, P.E., and lunch all happening simultaneously which helped make for interesting footage.
School lunch here is a little different than back home. Rather than having pre-packaged frozen meals with 73 ingredients just for the crust on the pizza, served by under appreciated and underpaid workers, revered women in the community get together and have local, fresh, wholesome homemade food in little booths right in the middle of the school. I went over and got a huge plate of ceviche and rice for 60 cents. Now, I was lucky to have parents who brown-bagged lunch for me almost every day of my school career, and I always felt beyond fortunate for that; it was also always delicious. But if I had the chance to have this food everyday, for 60 cents, well, it'd be hard to pass.
After walking back to Azul Wasi, Anastasia asked me if I could again accompany her to school for what I understood to be a reunion of sorts for the fathers of the kids at school. Something got lost in translation.
We arrived to a packed auditorium, of predominantly women, with a younger woman on stage giving a Powerpoint presentation on the prevention of sexual abuse of children. Then a guy got on stage promptly after and gave a 20 minute speech about the importance of encyclopedias and tried to sell them for $100, which may as well be $1 million for many of the families here. Adding to the confusion, he got more applause than the woman who gave an impassioned presentation on the prevention of sexual abuse.
When I got back to Azul Wasi, Jubal was pumped to show me what he'd written for his verse. I asked him to write 4 bars, and he wrote 8. Overachiever. They're good, too! Excited to hear the rest and help him along the way!
12.14.13
Third floor, in progress. Here are some pictures of the third floor that's coming along. The windows are installed and spent about 6 hours today putting up plaster on the concrete walls with a trowel. Close!
At night, Dante asked me if I wanted to go into town to a fiesta. How could I not? The entire population of Oropesa must've been in attendance because it was packed. There were fireworks, there was dancing, there was guys in terrifying gorilla costumes, there was street food, there was lots of laughter.
At night, Dante asked me if I wanted to go into town to a fiesta. How could I not? The entire population of Oropesa must've been in attendance because it was packed. There were fireworks, there was dancing, there was guys in terrifying gorilla costumes, there was street food, there was lots of laughter.
12.15.13
15 minutes after arrival, cameras out... More plaster on walls - allllllmost finished, but ran out of material. Bullocks.
A couple people came to Azul Wasi today, one dressed up as Santa (who is a friend of Alcides). The others were: two women in their 60's, one woman in her early 20's, and a late 20's Peruvian woman. The friend of Alcides had been here before a couple times, but for all of the other's it was their first time. Within 30 minutes of being here, they had their cameras out and were firing pictures away at the kids. This is a big pet peeve. One or two pictures right away is fine. But anything more than that and I can't help but feel…How are you being present for the kids? In what way are you being human and helping out? It seems objectifying, like the kids are exhibits at a zoo. I've seen it a lot, and it really, really bothers me.
I know it might sound hypocritical of me, given that I was only at the school for a few hours when I was filming. But to me, the difference is that I went there to film the kids from Azul Wasi along with some B-Roll, not to film kids I didn't know. And the environment of a school is quite a bit different than that of an orphanage.
When I went to introduce myself to the people who came out, I was met with a look of utter disdain, contempt, and disgust by one of the women. Near as I could tell, I didn't have a Confederate flag t-shirt on and my fly was zipped, so I didn't immediately understand the reason for that response to my smile and wave. Looking back at it now, I'm chalking it up to another recurring experience on this adventure, particularly at the orphanages: territorial volunteerism. Here's what I mean by this.
In the orphanages in each country, there have been volunteers who would glom on to certain kids at the neglect of others in the orphanage. Then, when a new volunteer would arrive and pay a little attention to "their" child, they would immediately rush over and shoo them out of the way or give them a dirty look. Why? What help is being given, what presence being offered, if the interactions between some volunteers boil down to competition for affection and attention from the kids? It's an ego and thing, no question. It's territorial. It's, "I want these kids to love me most. I want to be the first volunteer to do x,y,z. Who do you think you are?" It's now no longer about volunteering for the sake of volunteering. It's volunteering to fill a void, to reap external validation, and it's about the volunteer not the people.
This is hardly the norm. I've also encountered and worked alongside numerous great volunteers. But it has happened enough that I took notice of it and felt compelled to write about it in this here journal. I don't think people do it maliciously. It's just an awareness thing. Being aware of how and why one is volunteering is just as important as the volunteering itself in many respects.
Here's a good example of volunteers making it about them rather than the children: Alcides asked me to film a brief 30 second video for the Azul Wasi website, thanking donors for their support over the last year and wishing everyone happy holidays and new year. I asked the guy dressed as Santa to help coordinate, because he was fluent in Spanish. So, he explained to the kids what needed to be said in the video. All of us gathered outside, and he was in the video with them as they jovially thanked folks in the video. I took a couple takes. On the last, he turned to the kids and said, "Hey, how about you also say 'Gracias, Papa Noel'?" (translation: thanks, Santa. Santa being him, of course.) Why, in a million years, would you tell the children at an orphanage, who have next to nothing, to thank you for a present?
To be fair, they did bring a nice meal and gifts for the kids - that's worth noting. That was nice of them. But why did it have to be done in the context of "hey, kids, look at the great things I am doing for you"?
One of the 1239839857349850 things done by the kids that melted my heart was when Alfredo and Jubal gave me some of their candy from their presents. And it wasn't even the discards, like the wax lips or the popcorn balls. It was the good stuff. They shared just because they wanted to, and because they wanted to make me feel included.
At night, Dante and I went to the fiesta again. It was just as majestic as the night before.
A couple people came to Azul Wasi today, one dressed up as Santa (who is a friend of Alcides). The others were: two women in their 60's, one woman in her early 20's, and a late 20's Peruvian woman. The friend of Alcides had been here before a couple times, but for all of the other's it was their first time. Within 30 minutes of being here, they had their cameras out and were firing pictures away at the kids. This is a big pet peeve. One or two pictures right away is fine. But anything more than that and I can't help but feel…How are you being present for the kids? In what way are you being human and helping out? It seems objectifying, like the kids are exhibits at a zoo. I've seen it a lot, and it really, really bothers me.
I know it might sound hypocritical of me, given that I was only at the school for a few hours when I was filming. But to me, the difference is that I went there to film the kids from Azul Wasi along with some B-Roll, not to film kids I didn't know. And the environment of a school is quite a bit different than that of an orphanage.
When I went to introduce myself to the people who came out, I was met with a look of utter disdain, contempt, and disgust by one of the women. Near as I could tell, I didn't have a Confederate flag t-shirt on and my fly was zipped, so I didn't immediately understand the reason for that response to my smile and wave. Looking back at it now, I'm chalking it up to another recurring experience on this adventure, particularly at the orphanages: territorial volunteerism. Here's what I mean by this.
In the orphanages in each country, there have been volunteers who would glom on to certain kids at the neglect of others in the orphanage. Then, when a new volunteer would arrive and pay a little attention to "their" child, they would immediately rush over and shoo them out of the way or give them a dirty look. Why? What help is being given, what presence being offered, if the interactions between some volunteers boil down to competition for affection and attention from the kids? It's an ego and thing, no question. It's territorial. It's, "I want these kids to love me most. I want to be the first volunteer to do x,y,z. Who do you think you are?" It's now no longer about volunteering for the sake of volunteering. It's volunteering to fill a void, to reap external validation, and it's about the volunteer not the people.
This is hardly the norm. I've also encountered and worked alongside numerous great volunteers. But it has happened enough that I took notice of it and felt compelled to write about it in this here journal. I don't think people do it maliciously. It's just an awareness thing. Being aware of how and why one is volunteering is just as important as the volunteering itself in many respects.
Here's a good example of volunteers making it about them rather than the children: Alcides asked me to film a brief 30 second video for the Azul Wasi website, thanking donors for their support over the last year and wishing everyone happy holidays and new year. I asked the guy dressed as Santa to help coordinate, because he was fluent in Spanish. So, he explained to the kids what needed to be said in the video. All of us gathered outside, and he was in the video with them as they jovially thanked folks in the video. I took a couple takes. On the last, he turned to the kids and said, "Hey, how about you also say 'Gracias, Papa Noel'?" (translation: thanks, Santa. Santa being him, of course.) Why, in a million years, would you tell the children at an orphanage, who have next to nothing, to thank you for a present?
To be fair, they did bring a nice meal and gifts for the kids - that's worth noting. That was nice of them. But why did it have to be done in the context of "hey, kids, look at the great things I am doing for you"?
One of the 1239839857349850 things done by the kids that melted my heart was when Alfredo and Jubal gave me some of their candy from their presents. And it wasn't even the discards, like the wax lips or the popcorn balls. It was the good stuff. They shared just because they wanted to, and because they wanted to make me feel included.
At night, Dante and I went to the fiesta again. It was just as majestic as the night before.
12.16 - 12.17.13
Homeless musician at the market. Went to Cusco for my weekly weekend off, and this time I really did just relax, which was great. I got in in the early afternoon and stumbled across a restaurant named "Yanapay". The menu looked promising, but the real driving force behind my decision to give it a go was the fact that 100% of the net profits go to a nearby day shelter and orphanage. Great cause + great food (sandwich/local chips/apple pie with Pisco cream!) = a full stomach and Alex being a happy boy.
The rest of the day was spent dropping off laundry and backing up pictures from Romania to my cloud server while watching a movie. Also, got a chance to Skype with my folks, which is always wonderful.
The next morning I went to pick up my laundry; simple enough. I was curious, though, as to why a couple pair of boxer briefs, couple pair of socks, a pair of shorts, and two shirts supposedly weighed 7 pounds. I didn't question it when I dropped it off, as I'd gone to this place each time I've been in town and it's run by a little old lady that couldn't possibly try to hustle me. Or so I thought.
I got back to the hostel and weighed my laundry with their digital scale: 2.5 pounds. Roughly 3x lighter than what I paid for. I went back to the lady, laundry and scale en toe. She accused me of removing clothes (even though the bag was still taped shut), of somehow the clothes weighing vastly different on a digital scale vs. an old-fashioned one, and refused to admit she was being a little hustler.
I suggested we go into the grocery store and find a bag of something with a fixed weight listed, like a kilogram of flour, and weigh it on each of our scales. Precise, easy enough. She refused. Mind you, she spoke no English, so I was explaining to her how ridiculous the whole thing was in Spanish, how I didn't care about the money (only a couple more bucks), but rather the principle, and asked why she was being a bad person. Proud to say I explained everything in Spanish with no pauses. Getting better! Finally, she called her boss and told her there was an "angry Gringo who wanted his money back." Her boss acquiesced. Mission accomplished, silly though it was.
Here's the thing: if someone hustles me and they get away with it, I respect it. It's like they earn whatever they take from me if they do it so smoothly that I don't notice it. But if the hustle is found out, I think the code of hustling ethics clearly necessitates admitting guilt and fixing it. That's just the game. But I digress.
The rest of the day was spent dropping off laundry and backing up pictures from Romania to my cloud server while watching a movie. Also, got a chance to Skype with my folks, which is always wonderful.
The next morning I went to pick up my laundry; simple enough. I was curious, though, as to why a couple pair of boxer briefs, couple pair of socks, a pair of shorts, and two shirts supposedly weighed 7 pounds. I didn't question it when I dropped it off, as I'd gone to this place each time I've been in town and it's run by a little old lady that couldn't possibly try to hustle me. Or so I thought.
I got back to the hostel and weighed my laundry with their digital scale: 2.5 pounds. Roughly 3x lighter than what I paid for. I went back to the lady, laundry and scale en toe. She accused me of removing clothes (even though the bag was still taped shut), of somehow the clothes weighing vastly different on a digital scale vs. an old-fashioned one, and refused to admit she was being a little hustler.
I suggested we go into the grocery store and find a bag of something with a fixed weight listed, like a kilogram of flour, and weigh it on each of our scales. Precise, easy enough. She refused. Mind you, she spoke no English, so I was explaining to her how ridiculous the whole thing was in Spanish, how I didn't care about the money (only a couple more bucks), but rather the principle, and asked why she was being a bad person. Proud to say I explained everything in Spanish with no pauses. Getting better! Finally, she called her boss and told her there was an "angry Gringo who wanted his money back." Her boss acquiesced. Mission accomplished, silly though it was.
Here's the thing: if someone hustles me and they get away with it, I respect it. It's like they earn whatever they take from me if they do it so smoothly that I don't notice it. But if the hustle is found out, I think the code of hustling ethics clearly necessitates admitting guilt and fixing it. That's just the game. But I digress.
12.18.13
Yulino, with his sixth grade diploma! On the walk back to Azul Wasi after the bus ride, I passed Yulino on the road. He told me there was a fiesta at school for his sixth grade class, and he wanted me to come. After dropping off my bag, saying hi to the kids, and grabbing some lunch, I trekked back into town to the school and joined in on the fiesta. And I'm glad I did, because when I walked through the door, Yulino's face lit up and he ran over to give me a hug. The fiesta also involved dancing, speeches, and free beer, which, in my experience, is a winning combination.
All of the kids had their parents there, and when the time came for each of them to get their 6th grade diploma, the parents went up with them and made a short little speech. Yulino's an orphan, so his parents weren't there. The only representative he had there was me, and I was asked to give a speech. With far from perfect Spanish to draw on, what I said was that Yulino is a great student and worker and, more importantly, a great person and that I'm lucky to know him. At least, that's what I did my best to say.
I was struck by how much he enjoyed my presence there, and how little he seemed to care that other kids had their parents there and he simply had me. I believe in empathy being one of the biggest keys leading to true understanding and compassion of one another. The truth is, that having been fortunate enough to have been raised by two sets of incredibly caring and engaged parents, I simply can't empathize with Yulino - or any of the other kids at Azul Wasi for that matter - on that level.
I hope I've been able to supplement that inability to fully empathize out of historical difference with a surplus of compassion and support. It's the best I can do, and I hope its helped in some small way, not for me or to feed my ego, but because they are incredible kids who deserve all the good that's in the world.
All of the kids had their parents there, and when the time came for each of them to get their 6th grade diploma, the parents went up with them and made a short little speech. Yulino's an orphan, so his parents weren't there. The only representative he had there was me, and I was asked to give a speech. With far from perfect Spanish to draw on, what I said was that Yulino is a great student and worker and, more importantly, a great person and that I'm lucky to know him. At least, that's what I did my best to say.
I was struck by how much he enjoyed my presence there, and how little he seemed to care that other kids had their parents there and he simply had me. I believe in empathy being one of the biggest keys leading to true understanding and compassion of one another. The truth is, that having been fortunate enough to have been raised by two sets of incredibly caring and engaged parents, I simply can't empathize with Yulino - or any of the other kids at Azul Wasi for that matter - on that level.
I hope I've been able to supplement that inability to fully empathize out of historical difference with a surplus of compassion and support. It's the best I can do, and I hope its helped in some small way, not for me or to feed my ego, but because they are incredible kids who deserve all the good that's in the world.
12.19.13
Alfredo, Yulino, Nilo. Before I came to Azul Wasi, it'd been a long, long while before I went bug collecting. I'd forgotten what it was like to fearlessly lift up a spider the size of your 8 year-old palm, dangle it around, and then put it back on the ground and then build a fort of rocks around it. That's exactly what Nilo and Alfredo did with a spider that looked hairier than Burt Reynolds, and certainly poisonous.
Happy to report that the hot water is now, again, fully operational. The leak in the PVC pipe got fixed because all of the piping got replaced. Rather than super thin plastic, it's now the really strong stuff. I think it'll work well.
With the rain coming in to stay for the next couple months, building new stories and structures will have to slow, and so the building materials need to be moved under cover. Remember the bricks that were carried up the rickety ladder to the second floor of the new building? Well, they all have to come back down to be hauled across Azul Wasi to the now empty garage/shed/guinea pig mansion. Danny and Alfredo were on the second floor loading bricks, one at a time, into a bucket and then lowering them down with a rope to Nilo and Carmen-Rosa below. Jubal and I then loaded the bricks into the wheelbarrow to cart them across the rugged terrain. We had a contest to see who could haul the most bricks at once. I got up to 32. Jubal? 34. Well then.
Happy to report that the hot water is now, again, fully operational. The leak in the PVC pipe got fixed because all of the piping got replaced. Rather than super thin plastic, it's now the really strong stuff. I think it'll work well.
With the rain coming in to stay for the next couple months, building new stories and structures will have to slow, and so the building materials need to be moved under cover. Remember the bricks that were carried up the rickety ladder to the second floor of the new building? Well, they all have to come back down to be hauled across Azul Wasi to the now empty garage/shed/guinea pig mansion. Danny and Alfredo were on the second floor loading bricks, one at a time, into a bucket and then lowering them down with a rope to Nilo and Carmen-Rosa below. Jubal and I then loaded the bricks into the wheelbarrow to cart them across the rugged terrain. We had a contest to see who could haul the most bricks at once. I got up to 32. Jubal? 34. Well then.
Jubal. Interviews got underway today! First up were the three brothers: Alfredo, Nilo, and Yulino. It didn't really go to plan, but that's OK. I had David there to help read the questions I'd prepared to be sure they understood them. I told them to look at me and not the camera or David. "Oh! OK." they exclaimed. They looked at me for about 4.3 seconds before looking back to David. Again I asked them to look at me when answering. "Ah, OK, OK!". 5.7 seconds later, back to David. And on and on. But, they remained quiet and focused throughout the whole interview, which is saying something.
As with so many of the amazing kids on this journey, they have an incredibly sad backstory. Their father hanged himself. He was a drinker, and one day he just ended it. Their mom couldn't afford to raise them alone, and when Alcides heard about them, he went to visit and brought them back to Azul Wasi. Alfredo was the one who told the story. When something so heartbreaking comes out so matter-of-fact from an 8 year-old, it's doubly heart wrenching. Alfredo also knew no Spanish before coming to Azul Wasi. Only Kechua. That was 3 years ago, and he's now fluent in both. Incredible.
As with so many of the amazing kids on this journey, they have an incredibly sad backstory. Their father hanged himself. He was a drinker, and one day he just ended it. Their mom couldn't afford to raise them alone, and when Alcides heard about them, he went to visit and brought them back to Azul Wasi. Alfredo was the one who told the story. When something so heartbreaking comes out so matter-of-fact from an 8 year-old, it's doubly heart wrenching. Alfredo also knew no Spanish before coming to Azul Wasi. Only Kechua. That was 3 years ago, and he's now fluent in both. Incredible.
Ivan. Afterwards, I interviewed Jubal and Ivan. Jubal's dad was a drinker as well, and Jubal started on a downward path from a very early age. He would rob people in downtown Cusco, holding them up with an unloaded gun. When he got caught, he got time to reflect, turned to religion, and turned his life around. He's one of the most genuine kids I've met on the whole journey.
Ivan is a bit of a wildcard, and he'd definitely be labeled as having ADHD in our Aderol riddled, over-medicated society. He's a great kid, and his background is very similar to Alfredo, Nilo, and Yulino's. The fact that he is the good person he is, that he's fighting for good in a world that has given him the opposite so many times, is a testament to his innate strength and character.
Ivan is a bit of a wildcard, and he'd definitely be labeled as having ADHD in our Aderol riddled, over-medicated society. He's a great kid, and his background is very similar to Alfredo, Nilo, and Yulino's. The fact that he is the good person he is, that he's fighting for good in a world that has given him the opposite so many times, is a testament to his innate strength and character.
12.20.13
Bautista and Hernan. Had interviews with two sets of brothers today: Bautista and Hernan, Danny and Wilmer.
Throughout the course of the whole journey, it has been rare that I've been afforded the chance to interview siblings at the same time, and doing so changes the interview dynamic completely. It invites them to open up, probably more so than they would on their own. They also get a chance to finish one another's sentences, or talk about their background story more cohesively.
Throughout the course of the whole journey, it has been rare that I've been afforded the chance to interview siblings at the same time, and doing so changes the interview dynamic completely. It invites them to open up, probably more so than they would on their own. They also get a chance to finish one another's sentences, or talk about their background story more cohesively.
Danny and Wilmer. Not to mince words, there is tragedy in each of their backgrounds. Bautista and Hernan's mom died when they were younger, and their dad was abusive. They were the support system for one another, which is probably largely why they are so driven today. Danny and Wilmer, on the other hand, lost their father while their mother (Anastasia) is still alive, and very much directly involved in their lives. Wilmer is the oldest of all of the siblings, the others being Danny, Anna Rita, Carmen Rosa, and their baby sister. Being the oldest, he has assumed a lot of the responsibility of helping Anastasia raise them, and I see the effort he puts in on a daily basis. He bends over backward for them, without complaint.
After the interviews, Bautista and Hernan wanted to experience rap class. We held one in the evening after their schoolwork was finished. Though I think it will be tough to get a verse finished for the song before I leave, if their incredible enthusiasm is any indication, they will continue to work on it solo. It's such an inspiring thing to see, enthusiasm. It reminded me of how I felt when I first started to write lyrics.
After the interviews, Bautista and Hernan wanted to experience rap class. We held one in the evening after their schoolwork was finished. Though I think it will be tough to get a verse finished for the song before I leave, if their incredible enthusiasm is any indication, they will continue to work on it solo. It's such an inspiring thing to see, enthusiasm. It reminded me of how I felt when I first started to write lyrics.
12.21.13
Nilo, being an old man. Oropesa is in a valley (albeit a valley at 12,000 feet), and as such is flanked by mountains. From the first day I arrived and looked up at them, I knew I wanted to climb one just to see what the view would be like at the top. Today was the day.
We were going to start in the morning in order to avoid the relentless sun, but the pouring rain put a nice kibosh on that. You may recall that Nilo is 9 going on 90. When it started raining, and we were discussing doing the climb, he came out of the dining room holding a cup of tea, wearing a denim hat, turtle neck, and scarf to ensure his body would be warm and dry. He looked up at the clouds and, in his surprisingly grizzled-sounding voice said, "well, looks like it'll be a cold one today…" and then took a sip of his tea while pacing back and forth. Yes.
A couple hours later, we had a break in the weather and started the climb. In order to get the base of it, we had to first make our way through the fields of livestock and farmers, leap across a river, and navigate crossing the highway. This brought us to basically someone's backyard to begin the ascent. I imagine it was quite a scene for the townsfolk to look at: 8 kids between 8 and 20 (Alfredo, Nilo, Yulino, Danny, Dante, Bautista, Ivan, Hernan), a white dog about the size of a great dane (Cassan), and a lanky, pale white guy in a green bucket hat that says "VIETNAM."
We were going to start in the morning in order to avoid the relentless sun, but the pouring rain put a nice kibosh on that. You may recall that Nilo is 9 going on 90. When it started raining, and we were discussing doing the climb, he came out of the dining room holding a cup of tea, wearing a denim hat, turtle neck, and scarf to ensure his body would be warm and dry. He looked up at the clouds and, in his surprisingly grizzled-sounding voice said, "well, looks like it'll be a cold one today…" and then took a sip of his tea while pacing back and forth. Yes.
A couple hours later, we had a break in the weather and started the climb. In order to get the base of it, we had to first make our way through the fields of livestock and farmers, leap across a river, and navigate crossing the highway. This brought us to basically someone's backyard to begin the ascent. I imagine it was quite a scene for the townsfolk to look at: 8 kids between 8 and 20 (Alfredo, Nilo, Yulino, Danny, Dante, Bautista, Ivan, Hernan), a white dog about the size of a great dane (Cassan), and a lanky, pale white guy in a green bucket hat that says "VIETNAM."
Hernan, Dante, Ivan, Alfredo. It didn't take long to realize that there's a distinct difference between 12,000 feet and 12,100 feet, and 12,100 feet and 12,200 feet, not to mention 12,200 feet and 13,000. By the time we reached the halfway point (which I only thought was the halfway marker - which I soon discovered to be about a quarter of the way), I was gassed. We were zigzagging through terraced gardens, scrambling up loose rock, and bushwhacking through prickly plants and chest high grasses. It became apparent right away that my spot in the pecking order would be somewhere between the very back and bringing up the rear, Cassan by my side every step of the way.
When I reached halfway, Bautista and Hernan were nice enough to stop and wait for me. In the far distance, I would see Alfredo dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a windbreaker, leading the pack and scrambling up the face like a Billy Goat. I had to zoom in about 30x on my camera to snag a visible shot.
When I reached halfway, Bautista and Hernan were nice enough to stop and wait for me. In the far distance, I would see Alfredo dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a windbreaker, leading the pack and scrambling up the face like a Billy Goat. I had to zoom in about 30x on my camera to snag a visible shot.
The gang at the top! About two hours later, the "summit" (in quotes because there were other, higher summits around) was reached. With dusk steadily approaching, we took in the view for a solid 10 minutes before starting the descent.
I don't know what it is about hikes, especially ones in the dark, that build such camaraderie. Maybe it's the whole "us vs. nature" thing. Maybe it's the seeing (all of them) needing to lead the blind (me) to safety. Maybe it's the unmatched solitude that comes from walking stride for side in silence, each step fully calculated so as to not fall off the side of the mountain, the only sound the deep breaths, the only sight the moisture on the plants reflecting the moonlight. Whatever it is, there was no place in the world I would've rather been at the very moment than with these incredible human beings.
We made it back in the pitch black without having had one person fall. That is, of course, until I took the last step up through the trench to the property of Azul Wasi, and proceeded to promptly fall back on my keester.
I don't know what it is about hikes, especially ones in the dark, that build such camaraderie. Maybe it's the whole "us vs. nature" thing. Maybe it's the seeing (all of them) needing to lead the blind (me) to safety. Maybe it's the unmatched solitude that comes from walking stride for side in silence, each step fully calculated so as to not fall off the side of the mountain, the only sound the deep breaths, the only sight the moisture on the plants reflecting the moonlight. Whatever it is, there was no place in the world I would've rather been at the very moment than with these incredible human beings.
We made it back in the pitch black without having had one person fall. That is, of course, until I took the last step up through the trench to the property of Azul Wasi, and proceeded to promptly fall back on my keester.
Casan, my sherpa. After taking a bucket shower with water heated up by my handy hot-pot, I returned to my room and noticed the door was open fully. I turned on the lights to see Cassan, the giant dog and my silent companion every step of the way up and down the mountain (probably because he knew I was the weakest of the lot) fully draped across my bed, his soggy, matted hair and mud-soaked paws covering every inch of the blankets. He looked up at me and slowwwwwly sunk back down into the bed while looking up at me, attempting a Jedi mind trick of "Youuuuu don't see me. There's nothing here." This, despite the fact he's about the size of a small grizzly bear.
I offered him the other bed in the room, but he opted to head outside, my loyal sherpa catching z's under the stars in the shadow of the mountain we'd just conquered.
I offered him the other bed in the room, but he opted to head outside, my loyal sherpa catching z's under the stars in the shadow of the mountain we'd just conquered.
12.22.13
Work! Today was another physical fitness day. Besides manual labor, the only way I've been able to stay in (marginally) passable shape on the adventure has been doing body-weight exercises. I brought along my trusty old resistance band and was getting a little circuit workout in when Alfredo wandered by my room in a way that he often does, where he slows his walk and peers in but simultaneously tries to make it look like he's not. He saw me working out, backed up, and said, "Alex! I want to be strong! Teach me!" My Spanish isn't strong enough to say "Well, if you want to be strong, I'll go find a better example. But I'll try to teach you!"
So he started doing pushups and planks and using the resistance band, which is taller than he is. Once Nilo walked by and saw him working out, he wanted in, too. And then Jubal dropped in. Pretty soon, I transitioned from struggling at knocking out a couple sets of pushups to being a poor man's Tony Horton. I'm not sure how that happened, but they seemed to have fun, so hey.
After, I was lucky enough to be a part of their soccer game outside. It was 6 on 6. I'm real not good at soccer, but I had Anna Rita on my team, and she picked up the slack for me.
So he started doing pushups and planks and using the resistance band, which is taller than he is. Once Nilo walked by and saw him working out, he wanted in, too. And then Jubal dropped in. Pretty soon, I transitioned from struggling at knocking out a couple sets of pushups to being a poor man's Tony Horton. I'm not sure how that happened, but they seemed to have fun, so hey.
After, I was lucky enough to be a part of their soccer game outside. It was 6 on 6. I'm real not good at soccer, but I had Anna Rita on my team, and she picked up the slack for me.
Jubal, breaking brick hauling records. As we were finishing the game, a VW van rolled into Azul Wasi, which generally means one thing: white people. It happened to be a group of ten missionaries: two married couples and six kids. It took them over 20 minutes to start taking pictures of and with all the kids, so they had some respect and restraint in that regard which was nice to see. They also came fully loaded with a turkey dinner, which the kids devoured with eyes as big as the moon.
It's interesting to see the dichotomy of lifestyles play out between rather affluent kids who arrive with their parents, and kids who have next to nothing and one or no parents. While the affluent sometimes view the children at the orphanage with a cautious skepticism, the kids at the orphanage never seem to greet their counterparts with anything other than open arms. I shouldn't be surprised by this, given the character of the children at each orphanage on the journey. But I can't help but feel if I were in their position, I'd look at these people who show up in designer clothes that were bought new, not handed down through three siblings, with more than a tinge of spite.
It's interesting to see the dichotomy of lifestyles play out between rather affluent kids who arrive with their parents, and kids who have next to nothing and one or no parents. While the affluent sometimes view the children at the orphanage with a cautious skepticism, the kids at the orphanage never seem to greet their counterparts with anything other than open arms. I shouldn't be surprised by this, given the character of the children at each orphanage on the journey. But I can't help but feel if I were in their position, I'd look at these people who show up in designer clothes that were bought new, not handed down through three siblings, with more than a tinge of spite.
12.23.13
The market. Another one of the gifts my folks wanted to be sure I passed on to the kids at Azul Wasi was to buy them some practical presents for the holidays, as well as take them out to a chicken dinner. So Alcides and I went into town to check out some of the markets for gifts.
Black Friday is crowded. But I assure you it doesn't compare to holiday shopping at the local markets in Cusco. There are vendors selling everything, from My Little Pony to Soccer Balls, TV's to designer watches, tents, coats, food, everything. So we honed in on practical presents for all of the kids over 10 - really heavy duty rain ponchos - and toys for Nilo, Alfredo, and Carmen Rosa. We also got a brand new soccer ball and pump.
After navigating the stalls and bargaining on all the prices (which were of course already beyond bargains to begin with), we grabbed some ceviche from one of the stalls. Of course, Alcides knew the owners and so they gave us the royal treatment. Delicious. Sushi has a rival, which is something I thought I'd never say.
Black Friday is crowded. But I assure you it doesn't compare to holiday shopping at the local markets in Cusco. There are vendors selling everything, from My Little Pony to Soccer Balls, TV's to designer watches, tents, coats, food, everything. So we honed in on practical presents for all of the kids over 10 - really heavy duty rain ponchos - and toys for Nilo, Alfredo, and Carmen Rosa. We also got a brand new soccer ball and pump.
After navigating the stalls and bargaining on all the prices (which were of course already beyond bargains to begin with), we grabbed some ceviche from one of the stalls. Of course, Alcides knew the owners and so they gave us the royal treatment. Delicious. Sushi has a rival, which is something I thought I'd never say.
Hernan and the injured pup. At night, all of the kids, Anastasia, David, and I went out to a polleria to get a really tasty dinner, made all the better by watching The Simpsons dubbed in Spanish while the rain pattered down on the metal roof of the restaurant. Watching 14 kids chow down and smile endlessly is one of those feelings that is quite difficult to describe, so I'll just go with inner sunshine and rainbows.
On the way back it was pouring rain. There was a dog lying in the middle of the road. Hernan ran over and picked her up and took her under an eve. She was in shock and immediately turned quiet once he gently laid her over there. We looked her over. No blood, which is good, but definitely a broken leg. If this were home, naturally we'd just hop in a car and take her to a veterinarian. But it's 8PM in Oropesa, and there aren't any options other than to try to make her warm and comfortable. Hernan cared for her tenderly and dried her off as much as possible before we went back home.
A million times over, words cannot do justice to the selflessness and compassion of these kids.
On the way back it was pouring rain. There was a dog lying in the middle of the road. Hernan ran over and picked her up and took her under an eve. She was in shock and immediately turned quiet once he gently laid her over there. We looked her over. No blood, which is good, but definitely a broken leg. If this were home, naturally we'd just hop in a car and take her to a veterinarian. But it's 8PM in Oropesa, and there aren't any options other than to try to make her warm and comfortable. Hernan cared for her tenderly and dried her off as much as possible before we went back home.
A million times over, words cannot do justice to the selflessness and compassion of these kids.
12.24.13
Dante. Today started out just feeling off, not for any particular reason. Maybe I slept at with my legs at a 12 degree angle to my body and my left shoulder slightly off-center. Maybe I forgot to drink water at 11:43PM since it was a waning gibbous moon last night.Who knows.
I went to do laundry by hand today, as it was nice out and I figured I'd capitalize on the quick dry of the sunshine. Just as I put my clothes in the water, which is full of algae and collected from the trench, the last of the soap got used. So, I set out to walk into town, and it was really hot. At 12,000 feet, the sun is real close, and I forgot to wear sunscreen. So I had that going for me.
Got the soap on the other side of town, since every shop but one was closed. I got back and started doing my laundry, now in a grumpy mood. That quickly dissipated when Afredo, Nilo, and Yulino dropped their toys and immediately came over and helped with my laundry. Just…wow.
I went to do laundry by hand today, as it was nice out and I figured I'd capitalize on the quick dry of the sunshine. Just as I put my clothes in the water, which is full of algae and collected from the trench, the last of the soap got used. So, I set out to walk into town, and it was really hot. At 12,000 feet, the sun is real close, and I forgot to wear sunscreen. So I had that going for me.
Got the soap on the other side of town, since every shop but one was closed. I got back and started doing my laundry, now in a grumpy mood. That quickly dissipated when Afredo, Nilo, and Yulino dropped their toys and immediately came over and helped with my laundry. Just…wow.
Carmen-Rosa and Ana Rita. As soon as the clothes were finished, I hung them up. As soon as I hung them up, the wind picked up. As soon as the wind picked up, clouds covered the sun. And as soon as the clouds rolled in…well, you can see where I'm going with this. I don't foresee my clothes being dry for a few days.
In Peru, Christmas Eve is a much bigger celebration than Christmas day. It's also a lot different since it's Summer down here. Rather than snow falling down, fireworks fly up, and instead of waking up at dawn tomorrow morning everyone stays up until early morning to exchange presents, have a feast, and party.
In Peru, Christmas Eve is a much bigger celebration than Christmas day. It's also a lot different since it's Summer down here. Rather than snow falling down, fireworks fly up, and instead of waking up at dawn tomorrow morning everyone stays up until early morning to exchange presents, have a feast, and party.
Bautista, rocking the poncho. Alcides arrived at 10PM with his wife, two daughters, and son, to start the festivities. Upbeat Spanish covers of Jingle Bell Rock, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, and others busted through the speakers. Game hen was served alongside veggies, potatoes, hot chocolate, and Panatone. All the kids were surprisingly wide awake, except for the little ones, as they usually wake around 5AM. But the prospect of presents was enough to keep their heads from residing in a dining room table slumber for the night, and with droopy eyes Nilo and Alfredo came and got their massive toy truck car carrier (complete with 8 cars on board), Carmen Rosa her pink horse that plays songs. I gave the older kids their ponchos, and even though that's about the equivalent of getting socks when you're little, they really appreciated it. Anastasia I gave an umbrella and flashlight.
After presents, we ducked outside for fireworks. Keep in mind that outdoor lights are few and far between out here, so you can't really see anyone nearby until the firework explodes, lighting up the sky. Standing next to one another in silence, awe, and reverence, I couldn't help but again feeling complete gratitude for the opportunity to be here, now, with these amazing souls.
We all started to trickle off to bed around 2, except for Nilo and Alfredo, busy playing with their toy trucks in the pitch black outside, the sugar from the hot chocolate giving them a gargantuan second wind.
After presents, we ducked outside for fireworks. Keep in mind that outdoor lights are few and far between out here, so you can't really see anyone nearby until the firework explodes, lighting up the sky. Standing next to one another in silence, awe, and reverence, I couldn't help but again feeling complete gratitude for the opportunity to be here, now, with these amazing souls.
We all started to trickle off to bed around 2, except for Nilo and Alfredo, busy playing with their toy trucks in the pitch black outside, the sugar from the hot chocolate giving them a gargantuan second wind.
12.25.13
Edwin. Everyone sort of rolled out of bed this morning. It was a really low-key day, which was a really nice way to have my last full day out here be.
I didn't think we'd be able to get around to it, but Jubal and I recorded his verse for the song - yay! I think it came out really nicely. It's tough to have complete silence during the process while in an orphanage, because kids are going to be running around and shouting no matter what. But I think that if there are sounds of kids in the background and it's imperfect and rough around the edges, that will only add to the authenticity of the finished product.
Afterwards, I joined all of the kids in a game of soccer that lasted well past sunset. Couldn't have asked for a better coda to my time at Azul Wasi.
I didn't think we'd be able to get around to it, but Jubal and I recorded his verse for the song - yay! I think it came out really nicely. It's tough to have complete silence during the process while in an orphanage, because kids are going to be running around and shouting no matter what. But I think that if there are sounds of kids in the background and it's imperfect and rough around the edges, that will only add to the authenticity of the finished product.
Afterwards, I joined all of the kids in a game of soccer that lasted well past sunset. Couldn't have asked for a better coda to my time at Azul Wasi.
12.26.13
David. When I woke up today it dawned on me that this would be my last-last day of The Volunteer Adventure. And I don't yet know how to comprehend that, because it felt like I started last night.
There's never enough time.
I took pictures of all of the kids. I had an interview with Alcides. Alcides treated me to qui in Tippon, one of the best places in the world to have it. There are always a million things I wished I'd said to the kids. I wish I would have spent more time with them somehow. I wish I would have been more present with the goodbyes rather than letting my mind think about packing, the upcoming 20 hour bus ride, the flight back. I wish I would've written each of them letters. Most of all, I wish I could somehow communicate the immeasurable impact they had on me and always will.
I've said previously that I believe goodbyes are an imperfect art form. I stand by it. But I also feel grossly inept at them when the time comes. So here I am, and my time here is already just a memory. I can't wait to look back at these memories on film, in pictures, in the words haphazardly jotted down, and give you the full story of these kids in the present.
There's never enough time.
I took pictures of all of the kids. I had an interview with Alcides. Alcides treated me to qui in Tippon, one of the best places in the world to have it. There are always a million things I wished I'd said to the kids. I wish I would have spent more time with them somehow. I wish I would have been more present with the goodbyes rather than letting my mind think about packing, the upcoming 20 hour bus ride, the flight back. I wish I would've written each of them letters. Most of all, I wish I could somehow communicate the immeasurable impact they had on me and always will.
I've said previously that I believe goodbyes are an imperfect art form. I stand by it. But I also feel grossly inept at them when the time comes. So here I am, and my time here is already just a memory. I can't wait to look back at these memories on film, in pictures, in the words haphazardly jotted down, and give you the full story of these kids in the present.
12.27.13
Cusco rainstorm. It's fitting that the final night in Cusco would end with being caught in a huge rainstorm; a little taste of things to undoubtedly come when returning to Washington. I camped out under an overhang from La Catedral del Cuzco, right next to Plaza de Armas. It made for great people watching at night, and good, tranquil way to soak in my last night in this magical city.
On my way back, I stopped by the wonderful vegetarian restaurant, El Encuentro, I'd frequented at least once a week since I arrived in Peru. By now, the owner, Henry, recognized me as a regular. He'd asked me to stop by before leaving town for Lima tomorrow morning.
On my way back, I stopped by the wonderful vegetarian restaurant, El Encuentro, I'd frequented at least once a week since I arrived in Peru. By now, the owner, Henry, recognized me as a regular. He'd asked me to stop by before leaving town for Lima tomorrow morning.
Henry and his daughter. I ducked in out of the rain and cold. He stopped what he was doing, walked over to me and gave me a handshake and a smile, reached behind the counter and pulled out an Alpaca hat he wanted to give me as a present. It was truly heartwarming. His wife (whose name I'm sad to say I can't recall), who always has a radiant smile, gave me a hug and asked if she could take a picture with us and their daughter. Of course! I gave her my camera to take one, too.
When you visit Cusco, you need to go here.
It's also important to mention how wonderful Dragonfly Hostel has been during my time in Cusco. I'd come in once or twice a week from Azul Wasi to relax and catch up on the journal and work for back home. Every single person there is and always has been welcoming, helpful, and inviting. Please, please, please stay here.
When you visit Cusco, you need to go here.
It's also important to mention how wonderful Dragonfly Hostel has been during my time in Cusco. I'd come in once or twice a week from Azul Wasi to relax and catch up on the journal and work for back home. Every single person there is and always has been welcoming, helpful, and inviting. Please, please, please stay here.
12.28.13
Hasta luego, Cusco. Another restaurant I frequented was an Israeli one near Plaza de Armas. The food was always reliably delicious, but one of the main reasons I'd go would be to watch the gruff waitresses deal with the foreigners, like me, who'd wander into the premises. By now, I think my usual waitress (around 50) recognized me as regular, too. Before I left, she asked me for my Facebook and email. You owe it to yourself to check out this place, too!
Gear packed, goodbyes said, I was off to start my trek back to the states. The first stretch is a 22 hour bus ride from Cusco to Lima…
OK, I have a confession to make. I splurged on my bus ticket and paid $60 for first class, rather than $55 for coach. The difference between the two was that my seat was a reclining lazy boy in a closed room with only 12 other seats, while coach would've been the same as a Greyhound. Worth it.
I've always been thankful that I haven't really been one to get carsick my whole life. But this is also the first time in my life I've rode the back of the bus from Cusco (at 12,000 feet) to Lima (at sea level), through winding roads that'd make a corkscrew look straight. It made me realize that, when it comes to being nauseous, the one thing worse than throwing up is feeling like you have to throw up for 22 hours. So I chewed Coca leaves like a pro, dodged in and out of sleep, and watched the terrain flash by in a blur.
Also, there was a toilet on board. But for some reason, we were told that you couldn't poop in the darn thing. Which of course just made me worry for the next 22 hours that I'd poop my pants.
Gear packed, goodbyes said, I was off to start my trek back to the states. The first stretch is a 22 hour bus ride from Cusco to Lima…
OK, I have a confession to make. I splurged on my bus ticket and paid $60 for first class, rather than $55 for coach. The difference between the two was that my seat was a reclining lazy boy in a closed room with only 12 other seats, while coach would've been the same as a Greyhound. Worth it.
I've always been thankful that I haven't really been one to get carsick my whole life. But this is also the first time in my life I've rode the back of the bus from Cusco (at 12,000 feet) to Lima (at sea level), through winding roads that'd make a corkscrew look straight. It made me realize that, when it comes to being nauseous, the one thing worse than throwing up is feeling like you have to throw up for 22 hours. So I chewed Coca leaves like a pro, dodged in and out of sleep, and watched the terrain flash by in a blur.
Also, there was a toilet on board. But for some reason, we were told that you couldn't poop in the darn thing. Which of course just made me worry for the next 22 hours that I'd poop my pants.
12.29.13
The view from Dragonfly's front door. I woke up from a spotty two hours of sleep, the bus having stopped at a gas station for a break. It's dawn. Apparently we descended all 12,000 feet in those two hours, because my ears feel like they have 30 yards of bubble wrap shoved into them. But we arrived in Lima safely and that's what matters.
After sweatily and weary-eyed grabbing my luggage, I hopped in a cab for Miraflores, tossed my bags on the floor of the Dragonfly Hostel here (the sister to the one in Cusco), and caught a few winks.
Lima really reminds me of San Diego. Being back at sea level feels really nice on the old lungs.
After sweatily and weary-eyed grabbing my luggage, I hopped in a cab for Miraflores, tossed my bags on the floor of the Dragonfly Hostel here (the sister to the one in Cusco), and caught a few winks.
Lima really reminds me of San Diego. Being back at sea level feels really nice on the old lungs.
12.30.13
Lima sunsets. This is it: the last day of The Volunteer Adventure. My words will always be inadequate to express a gratitude that is inexpressible, but to the many who made this journey possible, please know that my simple "thank you" means so much more. So much.
I grabbed my last menu del dia at a hole in the wall place near the hostel and ended up having a great conversation with a family consisting of a husband and wife, their 10 year old daughter, and the husband's mother. He used to live and work in Florida before moving to Lima with his family, and his mom is visiting before she heads back to Miami. The conversation was relaxing and engaging - great folks.
I spent the majority of the rest of the day down at the beach watching the tide roll in, people run around, and the sun go from high, to lower, to bidding adieu as it careened over the edge of the horizon and away. What an unbelievably beautiful country and culture, Peru. I can't wait to come back.
I grabbed my last menu del dia at a hole in the wall place near the hostel and ended up having a great conversation with a family consisting of a husband and wife, their 10 year old daughter, and the husband's mother. He used to live and work in Florida before moving to Lima with his family, and his mom is visiting before she heads back to Miami. The conversation was relaxing and engaging - great folks.
I spent the majority of the rest of the day down at the beach watching the tide roll in, people run around, and the sun go from high, to lower, to bidding adieu as it careened over the edge of the horizon and away. What an unbelievably beautiful country and culture, Peru. I can't wait to come back.
12.31.13
My flight was at 2am, so I got to the airport at midnight. As I was checking my bags, I heard somebody shout my name, which I figured couldn't be for me. So I didn't pay it any mind. I heard it again and turned around. Seated just 50 feet away was THE SAME FAMILY FROM THE LUNCH SPOT IN MIRAFLORES! IT WAS MIDNIGHT! WHAT?! Lima has 6 million people. Miraflores is 45 minutes from the airport. The lunch spot was a speck on the map of the entire city. And yet we happened to be in the exact same wing of a large international airport at the exact same time on the exact same day? There are coincidences, and then there are coincidences. We talked for another hour. They were there dropping off their mother for her flight back to Miami. Life is silly.
Life is also beautiful.
As I sit on the plane home, memories of the last 10 months flooding my synapses, I feel at peace. I feel complete and utter gratitude to the many incredible people who made this adventure possible, to the countless children who welcomed me into their lives, the wonderful caretakers who devote their lives to them, to the strangers who offered a helping hand and showed me how much beauty and sun is still in the world. I feel blessed. I feel lucky. I feel overcome with joy.
And I feel the adventure is just beginning.
Life is also beautiful.
As I sit on the plane home, memories of the last 10 months flooding my synapses, I feel at peace. I feel complete and utter gratitude to the many incredible people who made this adventure possible, to the countless children who welcomed me into their lives, the wonderful caretakers who devote their lives to them, to the strangers who offered a helping hand and showed me how much beauty and sun is still in the world. I feel blessed. I feel lucky. I feel overcome with joy.
And I feel the adventure is just beginning.
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