And Time Goes On

It`s been awhile, I know. The truth is, I haven`t had much to say. Life in Jocos goes on as always.

But lets see. What can I update you on? Oh yes! I was asked by the school in Santa Rosa (a nearby community I support) to be madrina ("godmother") at the school`s anniversary. That involves giving some money (in my case for the "champagne" to make toasts with, though its about as far from real champagn as Boons Farm), eating guinea pig (I actually had to eat mine as I sat next to the mayor of Lluchubamba and couldn`t give my piece to Michael on the sly like I usually do), drinking some beer, and doing some dancing. It was a good time, but the ride home was by far the best part. Picture this: a dump truck filled to the brim with about 80 elementary kids and 5 adults. I imagine the ride back to Jocos was reminicent of first-generation amusement park rides - everyone giggling and screaming in unison, clinging to each other trying not to fall down, people in the back getting squashed as people shift and stumble, the collective sigh of relief when its finally over. In short, fun but dangerous as hell.
The last weekend in April I and a young man from Jocos, Pavel, participated in a boy`s camp put on by the volunteers in Cajamarca. Community leaders from Cajamarca and surrounding areas come in and gave talks on everything from "The role of Peruvian youth in the world" to "Machismo" to a career fair. All the talks were interspersed with activities - get-to-know-you, team building, etc. We even had a campfire on night and made S`mores! And unqualified hit with the Peruvian sweet-tooth.
There was, naturally, an adventure to be had on the way back to Jocos. Pavel and I were traveling with Meredith and the participants from Lluchubamba and everything went relatively smoothly until we hit the road to Jocos that Sunday night. We were in the Lluchubamba municipality truck when the steering went out. Now keep in mind this happens on a little-used road, on the side of a mountain, at 8:30pm. Thankfully, the driver got the truck stopped without issue and then managed to jimmy-rig the steering so we could head back to Cajabamba (it was closer than Jocos and much safer). Meredith and I were now not only worried about our safety, but what we would do with 3 teenagers in Cajabamba until 9:00am when we could catch a bus to Lluchubamba. As luck would have it, we never had to figure that out. On our way back, we passed another truck headed to Lluchubamba whose driver agreed to take us with him.

My latrine project is still in the works. Since I`m asking for about $2,000 from an outside agency, the paperwork is time consuming to say the least. I`m hoping to have the money sometime in July and the materials bought soon there after.
In other work news, I`m starting 2 World Map projects in Jocos (i.e. painting a world map with the help of the students in the schools).

My time here in Jocos is dwindling. It seems impossible that nearly a year and a half has gone by! Having said thta, my days are often filled with daydreams of Home (much like when I first got here - "My whole life is a circle"). I daydream about getting on the plane in Lima, about getting off the plane in Denver, of riding the escalator up from the train at DIA and looking through the windows for a glimpse of whoever has come to pick me up (hopefully someone will agree to do that for me!). I imagine seeing The Rockies again and what my dinner will be that night. I try to recall the smells of my friends houses and the feelings I have there. But mostly I daydream about being surrounded by my family and friends, those people I haven`t seen in so very long.
All this daydreaming and imaging is rather futile, I know. Nothing will be, feel, smell as I imagine it. But at those times when I`m on the verge of hiking out of here and catching whatever the next form of transport is to Cajamarca and then on to Lima, thinking of Home and that I will soon be there, calms me down and I can look past all the things that bother me and enjoy being in Jocos again.

The big fiesta in Lluchubamba was in May. I went up for 3 nights - the first night being the only one we spent any significant time out of Meredith`s room. That was the night we went to a concert. The band, Pintura Roja ("Red Paint", played cumbi music - which I can`t tell apart from the dreaded Hauyno. However, both Meredith and I agree that it was one of the best times we`ve had at a baile ("dance"). We mingled with lots of different people and only a couple of times got stuck dancing with people who were beyond drunk.
When I left Friday morning, I was ready to go. The thought of another day dealing with the drunks was too much. I just couldn`t take one more swaying, eyes-at-half-mast profession of love. "Kellie. You`re so beautiful. I love you. Give me a piece of your hair to remember you by." And this coming from a man I met the day before! This is the very ugly side of Latin Passion (not that I have any experience with the pretty side of that passion - unfortunately!). Professions of love, statemensts of jealousy, "My life is nothing without you." Its all too much for my American sensibilities.

For those of you who might,just might, be wondering, half a can of Raid doesn`t even phase tarantulas. I know this because I recently tried to discourage (at the very least) one from settling in my rom. The tarantula stayed put while I had to evacuate because of the fumes. To my knowledge, I`ve never had a tarnatula in my room before. In fact, I`m pretty sure of that. They are pretty obvious. In any case, this one decided that the space where the upstairs floorboards meet the adobe was the perfect place to dig a little den. It chose well. There was no way I could get at it as all but a small part of my ceiling is covered in plastic to keep the dust from above off my things. At least it chose a spot close to the opening of the plastic so I could at least see what was making the noise (I could hear the dirt hitting the plastic as it excavated its hole). Now, I hate spiders! In fact, I hate all things with 8 legs, but tarnatulas?!? Not to mention the fact that these spray a toxin that causes painful, pus-filled, full-body blisters. Needless to say, I did not want this particular roommate. In the end, I had to wait until it decided to make an appearance at 10:00pm. It was so big I could actually hear it and see the plastic denting as it moved around. Once it was in a good spot, I was able to chase it to the end of the plastic with my broom and squash it when it hit the floor. After caring it, very carefully, outside in the dust pan, I proceeded to beat it to a pulp. Anyone who saw me had to have thought I had gone crazy - standing outside in the middle of the night beating the ground with all my might. Blech! I HATE TARANTULAS!!!