Category: volunteering

Agitated Tours aka the Misadventures and Adventures Reaching My First Wonder of the World: Part 1 of 2


June 29, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON
part 2 continues tomorrow

Of all the places that I planned on touring and that I had the pleasure of seeing during my time in Peru, Machu Picchu could not be missed. I was determined to visit this Wonder of the World and was nearly 100% certain that it was going to happen. I believed this every time I heard Pisco volunteers talk about all the various treks to get there and their recent experiences. All the other tourist attractions I sought along the way were more so decided upon, once I had arrived.

The most popular trek I heard about was the Inca trail, a 4-5 day hiking trail in which you would mirror the path that the Incans did regularly. The Salkantay trek (Salcantay trail), that could include horseback riding, hiking and camping was another popular one. I didn’t feel as if I had a lot of time, so I embarked on what was known as the 1-day (mini) Inca trail. This involved touring and getting most of the way to the train line in which we would leave our bus and hike for about 4 to 5 hours to Ollantaytambo. We would have dinner (we had eaten lunch during a stopover on the bus) and we would spend the night in one of two no-frill hotels and continue up to the Machu Picchu the next morning. Even this mini Incan trail proved to be a bit strenuous for me. The 4-hour walk grew longer. Thank goodness to a Chilean, (now mostly Facebook) friend who would help me on one particularly steep juncture and thank goodness for coincidences which I will expand on later. (Additionally, having heard there is no such thing as mere coincidences, I can appreciate that what seemed just circumstances really did turn out to mean a lot more). At the time, however, I would be thanking all my lucky stars for what eventually unfolded.

I bonded with 3 Brazilian guys that were a part of my tour group. Well, mainly I spoke to their “spokesperson” – who I suppose was the most outgoing one (the others would just smile and nod).

Primarily, I recall there being one large group of us heading towards Machu Picchu until they separated some of us out. First, they did it between two buses. The 3 Brazilian guys and a few other people were with me. Unlike us, most everyone on this trek was on holiday from Argentina or Chile. Similarly, I met a lot of Argentinian and Chilean people in various parts of Cusco, throughout my entire stay there. There were a lot of other various visitors – but just recalling especially that these two countries were well represented. That’s understandable, proximity wise. It also makes sense that I’d have a lot of interesting memories around them. 

It was a wonder how they were dividing us up. I am not sure about the specifics behind it, but our group had fewer people and I almost felt like we were with the less popular tour leader. How that popularity was noted was beyond me. He seemed fine. My other thought, like another tour I had taken in Arequipa, was that they wanted to keep the Spanish speakers with one tour guide, and to put us, the mostly non-native/second language Spanish speakers with the other. I speak Spanish, as a second learned language. (which is interesting because they can’t just casually ask if I would prefer to go here and there, thinking that I will be welcoming about it. I end up coming off as indifferent). However, I’m guessing that may have been their best generalization of the easiest way to divide us up. Hotel choices were a bit similar, as far as just overnight lodging. Again, I remember there seemed to be fewer people assigned to my hotel versus the second choice that was a part of the trek package. That split was further random. The Brazilian gentlemen were not staying in my hotel and there were a couple of guys from Argentina staying in mine, as we three made plans to finish the hike up the rest of the way the following morning. (Everyone would do this from their respective hotels). Still, to me it would have made sense to just divide us more equally in half to make the groups manageable.

What if that was the intention, but people chose not to be with my group leader. I continued to find him likeable. I recall him being booed a little over dinner when he did his announcements. The mystery remained unsolved.

Read more: Conclusion continues tomorrow

Intro to Cusco Days and Hello, Cusco Nights!

June 25, 2019 by CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I quickly realized it was time to get back to just depending on me as I was preparing to travel from the Peruvian city of Arequipa to Cusco, Peru.

Although I was going to miss having a temporary travel partner, this was going to be a good change. Self-reliance had been my typical method to and from my South American destinations, though my clear intentions were to consistently meet up with people.

It was especially important that I get back to solo traveling – because that allowed me the freedom to diligently follow the paths that I found dear. This synced with my call to community and volunteering. It has also added to the solo travel tips I have to share with you (can’t forget those along with my random thoughts and experiences).

There was more that made me realize how important it was for me to get back to solo destination travel. I realized it was also rather easy to develop codependency (both lightweight and not so lightweight). I took note when my travel friend had asked another adventurer if she was traveling alone. His question held the awe of already sensing the answer, and I quickly needed to remind myself that, hey, I too, had begun like her. (Naturally, like us, she was making friends along the way). I reminded myself that this is also how I would continue to the next spot and much later to the Bolivian cities of La Paz, Sucre and Cochabamba. It’s sometimes too easy to dismiss your own journey. (literally and figuratively). Don’t let others help you do it either, even when it’s not their intention.

Naturally (biologically), we do depend on others to survive and participate properly in life, but a good amount of self-reliance is important as well. An international travel partner can provide a good buddy system. You can look out for one another’s safety, and literally share the load of convenient travel gear you need like insect repellent and sunscreen. You can provide each other with moral support and crafty suggestions.

It was simply that I needed to rediscover my own gumption. I needed a reminder of how self-assured, friendly, outgoing and diligent I could be in a foreign country and so, although I had enjoyed his company, I found that my preference was much more in line with the comradery that came with forming bonds in the local and volunteering community. This would be followed by challenging myself to do more. (Of course, this is not to say that socializing and appreciating my surroundings was ever overlooked. Additionally, this mostly just describes my persona during those South American traveling days. I like to think of the modern me as a better more well-rounded travel companion).

As far as volunteer goals went in Cusco, I was planning to connect to a specific organization that had captured my heart, one that I had already imagined assisting with in some way. Unfortunately, once I did get to this point, I didn’t have the benefit of connecting with its very long-time volunteers. This was the complete opposite of the group I consider to be pretty much kinfolk – my fellow Pisco Sin Fronteras volunteers. I found this to be a complete change to the grittiness and beauty that mutually linked me to them, but due to that very bond, however, I could easily understand how this group had underwent a similar experience in Cusco.

Their clique was really just about six people, but it was intriguingly tight. I respected that. I became a lot closer to the newly arrived volunteers and this is not to say that the several of us, newbies, did not connect on some level with the veterans. We just laughingly noticed that there was a barrier we would not be crossing. Only certain circumstances showcased their concern such as a physical attraction to one of us or noting that we were about to traverse into some physically dangerous situations. Never mind our group fundraising activities, nights out dancing, laughing or chatting. Bonding was fleeting and I’m actually glad nothing can compare to what I experienced in Pisco.

I purposely don’t mention the name of the organization in Cusco, though its mission is equally as outstanding as the ones held by PSF and Proyecto Horizonte. (I can include special details if you are especially interested and inbox me here. I’m certain a lot has changed since my time there. I can share what I know.)

Pausing for a moment, before I go deeper into my volunteer stint in Cusco, I will throw out an overview of my initial days in this breezy, coldish part of Peru (I was there during rainy season). My main plans included Machu Picchu, sites like Sacred Valley, cathedrals, museums, ruins and more. I would need to strategically structure my time before traveling into the more, not so safe area of Cusco where I would be volunteering as a teacher to underserved children. I think I did a pretty decent job of managing the time I had. Still I wished for more and I’ve thought about living there for a few months each year.

Mapping out a decent bus ride from Arequipa was the first step. I was set with a nice bus company (word-of-mouth reviews are gold), and having found a properly reviewed hostel on hostel.com, I was even more set. I must include, however, that while I was happy with the overall hostel amenities that included cleanliness and hot water, I was a bit put off by its risky location. There was a significant stretch from the Plaza de Armas (the main square) to my dwelling and this also just happened to mean it was in a less safe area. I was always reassured to see the tall guard standing stoic at the end of my street (and it didn’t hurt that he was also handsome) but it would have been even more comforting if there was another guard or two located along the way.

This brings to mind some suggestions that I feel were beneficial to me and as I plan to put together a more comprehensive list, I will share them here. My initial advice, to an especially solo person, would be to always move with a purpose – even when you are just a little bit acclimated to your surroundings. I think doing that to the best of my ability while remaining cordial and open was key. Even if my purpose was leisurely and given to the spontaneous track, I think it served me well to walk steadily, not too slow, and as if I had a clear place to be. A genuine friendliness with local people, exhibiting respect and having humility seemed to create good vibes as well.

You find there are a considerable number of people who freely offer information and advice. You can compare notes from your encounters and unpack the lot of it for yourself. Amicable relationships with people from the area sometimes even translate into them looking after you in a familial way, but like anywhere in the world, being alone and a novice can also open you up to individuals that would never have your best interest in mind. Overall, politeness and greetings go a long way in the right circumstances. After all, you are in a place in which you most likely want to be immersed. The rule remains however to always be alert and don’t ever talk yourself out of your instincts.

My unease with my hostel location did eventually settle my decision to find another place within a few days. The local owner of the hostel, that I was leaving, was very engaging. He had daily inquired about my travel and was taken with my previous and future plans. (He was surprised that I had been staying in Pisco and not the capital of Lima, prior to this). I just did not have the heart to tell him that I was going to stay in another location for a few days, before my next volunteer gig. He assumed I was going there straight away. As a host, he was great, and his place was great, and I couldn’t offend him with just that one amenity he could not offer. That would be feeling more secure.

I found a really nice place near La Plaza de las Armas and it was more like a hotel than a hostel. I was easily comfortable venturing out on nearby city tours, visiting historic sites and viewing everyday tourist attractions. The biggest trip I would take was my mini trek to Machu Picchu.

Upcoming: Adventures and Misadventures reaching my first Wonder of the World

Risky Safe Travels®

Outside the Box

MAY 30, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I kept my promise to myself about two things I said I would do this week, one being to attend the stock trader meetup and the other to attend the eCommerce event that focuses on financial freedom. You can visit my blog from last week that talks about the fear that comes with embarking on a path that’s more about your passions. More than a rant, the piece turned into more of a motivation to me (and hopefully to anyone that can identify with it). I called it a rant, but I think that was in response to momentarily being a little put off that I’m not fully immersed into my translating and community organizing lifestyle. The truth is; however, I have never not had my passions somehow incorporated into my life. I still believe in so many things that mean people being good to each other and my connections for volunteering both here and abroad continue to be revisited through my network of friends and second families. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget when you get distracted by the supposed everyday obligations.

So, as I continue down this road of truer meanings, I find that it’s a drive not just for me but also for anybody that can identify with me on my journey. It won’t just be about my growth. It will mean even more of me expanding my reach and assisting others (however long or short distance my actions may go). Accordingly, I am going to keep putting one foot outside the box, a bit at a time.

I just finished up another freelance translating assignment. It was quite interesting. It was easier than some of my previous ones. I find that I really do enjoy the tourism and travel related ones. There were four short pieces I did for a client that spoke to the beauty of Mexico’s beaches, family-friendly hotels and even a piece about the skin and hair health benefits of coconut extract. I can already tell how being my own boss and setting my own varied work and community outreach schedule is going to be exhilarating. (I have an opportunity to be a linguist with an organization – but it wouldn’t exactly be freelancing – perhaps I can also work with them).

My experience at the day/swing trader meetup was quite empowering as well. It turns out that I am sufficiently learning the market and that I have a swing trade strategy that is similar to a few guys in the group. Some of the them trade equities. Some trade options. One does Forex (foreign exchange) and there were others. I have more to study. I give myself about a 70% understanding of what was going on that night. For some reason, I was the only lady within the group that attended this particular meeting. I’m pretty certain I saw some in the group on meetup.com. I guess they just couldn’t make it that night. I wasn’t intimidated at all and the guys were very cool. Still, I would love to meet the other ladies as well. Maybe next time.

There was another meetup happening at the restaurant that same night, helping to create some momentary misdirection. (By the way, the other meetups I belong to are related to embassy events, history and culture, one for English-Spanish conversation language exchange, and one known as Networking after Work). As I chatted a bit more with the incorrect contacts, it was revealed that they were not the investor group. I heard poly and want to guess a polyamorous group.  I very sweetly dismissed myself. The guy that had previously been behind me in the checkout line was a part of this group and was motioning for me to keep my seat (not realizing that I wasn’t supposed to be there at all). They were all nice, but I had stock guidance to get to.

The guys in the area of the restaurant that was closed off and reserved made more sense. Seeing them with their laptops and the premiere slide of the organizer’s presentation up on the wall made it clear this is where I belonged😉 though it was the first time I’d joined such an event.

I opened my laptop to the stock spreadsheet that is my watch list and I will say I felt extremely comfortable outside of my comfort zone for the rest of that evening. Everyone was informed and informative on various levels and I participated sporadically. Paying close attention, taking a few notes, networking for some tips and finishing off my mini lemon tart, I made a mental note to continue trading equities that represent my values and that I understand. I’m good with learning a bit more about this day by day.

My intention leans towards financial freedom while I focus on my passions. I have my lifetime investments but am open to trying new things. I’m fascinated with how others have created ideal lifestyles as I’m married to the possibilities of spending more time on creating, volunteering and sharing more time with family and friends.

As I briefly mentioned earlier, regarding my second act of stepping outside the box, I was intrigued by this eCommerce event that my friend and I attended. This was just a day after the meetup and both events caused me to think that there is something to be said for steadily challenging your mind in the proper ways.

I did agree with my friend on how the presentation of this event had a very sales pitchy feel to it. However, since we both know the results behind it are possible, I decided to sign up for the company’s upcoming 3-day workshop. I’m interested in what they say could be a potential side business, allowing me to focus more fully on writing, translation, volunteering and travel.

Following my previously posted “rant”, this is my latest update. That was a “rant” that may have incidentally coincided with reminding myself to explore and then explore some more. My heart seemed to take over my writing for a while back there. I gratefully embrace that because I don’t ever want to forget what means the most to me and to everyone with whom I have had the pleasure of connecting. Thank you again for sharing your time with me. Always appreciated!

Share and like, if you like this. I hope to have you here again soon!

Cassandra Johnson

Translate My Life: Post #16 and My First Blog Rant

 
MAY 19, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

Embarking on a path that is more about your passions is scary. Too often, we’ve been led to believe that feelings, desire and the drive for a calling is not what pays the bills or ensures a stable life, by any means. We might have been led to believe that we’re strange or even indecisive when all that is really happening is the perpetual getting back around to what really drives us. When the thoughts are, “isn’t there more” and “is this the life I really want”, then we can actually be thankful to all that is mighty that our persistent curiosity refuses to be stifled. You don’t ever want to be confused into losing this.

Compromising a couple of dreams for present security is not dire and I pause, because I don’t know if any of this is true for you, but it is a scenario with which I am all too familiar. I am describing me, so I don’t necessarily want to put this on others, but if you can identify, I am happy to be in good company. I know that all too often, it is the supposed order of the larger world beckoning us to fall in line.

However, I have to take note that the larger world’s modern technology and on demand access to certain principles have also helped fuel my focus. The nearly universal access to social media platforms like YouTube has been a blessing. Though social networks can be formidable with negativity, it has also provided the opportunity to connect to enhanced ideas and greater intentions. Many of the entrepreneurs and free thinkers I follow, (in addition to the books I’ve read and currently read) have reopened my tired eyes. The positive thinkers and generous achievers know the formula for being true to yourself, good to others and constantly striving to be better day by day. The formula is not always perfect (for anyone) but the right knowledge and intentions do help in staying grounded and again taking us forward to where we really need to be.

I don’t have to readily dissolve every grain available but putting together a lot of the ideas have gotten me back to some universal truths. I realize I am not going to be satisfied until I try all the paths along which my dreams are winding.

I plan on spending the rest of my time here, checking in on my progress. I welcome it. I continue etching out time to write, translate, travel and add in more activities as I go. One of the steps to drowning out the so-called order of stability has been growing my life as a freelance translator. I’m now happy to be translating and regularly taking part in events hosted by the National Capital Area Translators Association.

I go to my premiere stock trading meeting next week. (I’ll see if my practice reading the market is paying off as much as I feel it is. So far, I’ve made an extremely modest profit.) Following that meeting, I will attend an eCommerce, eFreedom (see update) event with my colleague. We are aware that one of the big pieces helping us focus more on community and our passions is reaching financial freedom. (I have no problem being obsessed with that goal as it translates into more time to do more of what matters to me.) There is family. There is volunteering. There are friends. There is travel. There is the global community. There is bliss on the other side of our efforts and along the proper path as well.

There are many challenges but let them not be issues simply for the sake of being a part of an ill fate, but rather let them be challenges for the sake of growing past limitations. Propel us all towards our meaningful goals. Let us not retreat into respective acceptable corners of stability with our respective creature comforts. Let us yell out through our actions of being true to ourselves and especially don’t let us be tricked because we are quite competent at our everyday non-passions.

Now that I’ve committed to this in writing and posting, I likewise challenge myself not to ride it out in the comfort zone. I have to also note when that comfort zone is cleverly disguised as familiar obstacles. (“Why is a known hell preferable to an unknown heaven?”)

It is going to be okay. It will be for me and for everyone that feels this way. We need to work that balance of not being too critical as well (of ourselves or others). It is only natural that the voices showing the path to what is deemed clear and normal are all too easy to find. This is why they are considered “normal” and they easily lay us upon the route of the least resistance. It’s easy to get sidetracked.

The future is the question to be answered. My current (aka past) goals are highlighted by my continued intentions to step outside the box.

We can help others by being true to our callings and though it may take us off the beaten track (a little or a lot), we can be forever grateful that our nagging dreaming feelings just won’t let us go.

Presently, I am happy to be participating and exploring a lot of what I only previously wondered about and I’m equally happy that I’ve taken some interesting chances with my adventures. Though I’ve been holding back, I’m glad to be putting myself out there both physically and mentally. The daring times have taught me the most about myself and what matters.

Like my post below (if you’d like😊) and share me – @riskysafetravels.com

I hope you find some useful and/or interesting information in the archives as well.

Yours truly,

Cassandra Johnson, blogger (riskysafetravels.com), volunteer, freelance translator, writer and aspiring swing trader

Update: eFreedom is something I do not recommend at all. It was a very costly and time-consuming experience and I would not want anyone to experience this as well. While I will spend money learning from entrepreneurs and teachers in various industries who are experts, this is one I would not revisit. It is very important that we make sure our sources are reputable and I want to let you know to do your due diligence.

Recipes for Life: One Part Huacachina

MAY 6, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I highly recommend sandboarding and dune buggy riding. This is what some of my co-volunteer friends and I did in Huacachina and I would further recommend that if you are going to take part in some common but potentially harmful activities, do take all the recommended precautions, do them with friends and do not allow yourself time to talk your way out of it.

My friends and I especially chose this day for nearby bucket list activities since one of our closest friends would be leaving to volunteer elsewhere. Before being Huacachina-bound, however, I had to reconcile missing my normal Saturday volunteer task. It was a day that I wasn’t on a building project but rather teaching English. The reasons I leaned towards were the several other people teaching, and of course it being one of the last times I would see my friend. (Fortunately, we would get to meet up again later in Bolivia). I made my case to the project leader that day (and she, my sister from another mother) was more than lenient with me. However, our premiere disagreement was quite amusing. I think it made our bond even tighter. After all, who doesn’t eventually fight with family?

All set. The five of us got a collectivo (shared taxi) over to our mainly touristy destination (not on the Arequipa touristy scale, of course, but touristy still…) We took the fast, curvy dune buggy ride together and we each yelled out with joy during our respective sandboarding trips. It was prior to these steep slides, that we were also instructed not to have our hands, arms or legs out touching the sand. Long sleeves and long pants were recommended. Overall, you didn’t want any of your body hanging over the board.

This particular trip to the oasis was just for a day. {Visit Facebook Pics} We passed the rest of our time eating, laughing, and chatting while appreciating the simple and unique life. I love going places and getting involved in something unexpected. I know we had planned on doing everything that we did, but there was no preparation for the actual immersion and the very real satisfaction of completing it all.

Naturally, our trip initiated from Pisco, but I would say Paracas may more likely be the spot your passing through or headed towards, since it is well visited for its diverse bird and additional wildlife.

The lodging options in Huacachina can get you to feeling quite at home. I pause here to advise on hostels in general. There are some very inexpensive options. You can bring the price down even more by selecting to stay in a room for two or more people. People may go into this arrangement together, or simply share a place with other travelers who have been assigned there. The former is essentially what my friend and I did when we headed to Arequipa and the latter is what I usually did when I traveled through Bolivia. Many of your decisions can be made with the courtesy of a number of reviews and according to your personal objectives. When I knew I just needed a place to lay my head, (that I’d be out and about most of the time), I didn’t mind sharing and my main concerns centered around the availability of hot water and tidiness. When I needed more focus and regrouping, I would stay solo. This would also include reasonably priced, nice hotels.

I found all my best deals on Hostelworld.com. I know Airbnb is quite the force today but don’t sleep on Hostelworld, as you can feel its continued relevance from even just the landing page link which I’ve included above. I recall before I learned of Hostelworld, I knew of couchsurfing.com and this could range from camping out on someone’s couch to having a nice private room along with the run of the house. I didn’t do couch surfing. I cannot speak to it too personally, but I knew people who did (and I am seeing this company is still doing its thing as well). I did once stay with a friend who was in the midst of it. We were celebrating my birthday. We had been spending the majority of the day and evening together and it was a safer and gentler experience to crash with her and her host, rather than going back to my own hostel during the early morning hours.

Fortunately, I feel like reviews in general are the great self-correcting force to getting you the best deal and situation for your money. I would say don’t go cheap for cheap’s sake. Think about being in safe areas and again, also think of the other conveniences of life that you find valuable. I got to the point where I could even read in between the lines of travelers’ reviews. For example, if someone rated a hostel “boring”, it simply meant there wasn’t a party worthy environment on the premises. There were some hostels exactly popular for their party atmosphere. I would look deeper for the hot water confirmation. I do love dancing and there was always somewhere nearby to go. No need for this to be linked directly into my dwelling. Additionally, there were common areas for meeting and socializing. No need for this to be too intense, when there is most likely a night when you need to rest up before the following day’s adventures.

Of course, hostels don’t need to be your choice at all and as I briefly mentioned, you can rest assured hotel reviews plus travel sites can also be your guide. I checked into a nice hotel on another group visit to Huacachina. I hung out with friends at one point and at another point I was shooting the breeze at the hotel bar (complimentary Pisco Sour in hand). There was this chance to meet locals and other tourists while enjoying friends as well.

By the way, a nice element about Huacachina are the options to stay a while or take in the area just for the day. You may want to do so while en route to your next destination.

The restaurants are varied, offering US, Peruvian and other cuisines. It makes it so you can wander within a few feet to find the perfect food you are craving, including ice cream. There are areas to swim. There is the nightlife, and the city shows itself to be one of those serene places where you can relax and get taken in by the ideal landscape. Incidentally, you may momentarily forget your everyday concerns.

These are just my collective fond memories from a time quite past and I’m glad to see that the tradition of the desert oasis lives on. Maybe you will visit and let me know what you think. Maybe, you will share one of your favorite places with me. I welcome it. Always feel free to email me at cassandrajohnson@riskysafetravels.com and to include questions or comments below. I want to note I did just recently learn of a dune buggy accident. I want to advise you to remain mindful and to continue taking care of yourselves and each other.

If you found this interesting, please feel free to like and share: @riskysafetravels.com

Your visit here is always appreciated!

Where is Next?

APRIL 29, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I continue to travel. I continue to volunteer. This is both home and abroad. My heart is telling me where I’m drawn to next but I’m opening up the floor to your thoughts as well. From sharing my previous stories with me, you probably realize that I’m pretty laser-focused when I decide to head out, but this doesn’t mean I won’t keep adding suggestions to my list.

Feeling absolutely helpless is what came over me when I viewed Puerto Rico those many days and even months after Hurricane Maria hit. The same was true for the US Virgin Islands and I think I have a special propensity for hurt people who also seem to be getting second rate regards. That is an added devastation.

I became acquainted with the Friends of Puerto Rico through a 2017 fundraiser, held at a local DC architectural firm. It was so well put together, offered so much and I was pleased that there was a place to connect with others and participate a little for the time being. I won my silent auction bid and was just recently feeling that I wanted to direct some more energy that way.

I went back to some email updates. I found this store, which is Café Ama and read the story of the seeds that survived the hurricane and how one 10-year old little entrepreneur decided she would be sharing these and other gifts of Puerto Rico. I don’t consider myself a coffee drinker. I wouldn’t want to compare myself to the real ones since sweet versions like café mocha are my chosen selection and complimentary tea usually fills my cup at work. I was preparing to check with friends to whom I might gift these, yet suddenly I fell for the most adorable little espresso cup that proved to be even more delightful in person.

My mind is telling me that I want to fly to the island. I have experience with continued recovery after an initial disaster. I may be going. I may be helping in another way. I like to be some part of various efforts that will aid people with limited resources. I believe in giving in all its forms. I believe in monetary help. I believe in physical help. I believe in kind words. I believe in smiles. I believe in encouragement and I believe everybody needs somebody.

Landscape Image by Joylne D from Pixabay 

My Apologies, Arequipa

APRIL 27, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

My apologies, Arequipa. The memory of you is etched in my mind but not as much as it should be. I’m sorry. Although I do remember exploring and going to sacred sites, I don’t recall the details as much as I would like.

I believe you threw me off initially with how you were oh so touristy. I hadn’t yet been to such a touristy Peruvian city. I was fresh from a city that was much more affected by us volunteers than tourists and while I could see the definite effects that we outsiders had on the inside; I wasn’t ready for how you; Arequipa could be so tourist centric. So, there I had it, going from being a voluntaria (volunteer), navigating the city as one of many driven helpers to suddenly bus-voyaging it to a place that primarily welcomed me as an extranjera-foreigner, albeit not the everyday American one. The label came out morena and it made for some intriguing twists.

Here we were. One of the co-volunteers from Pisco had taken the bus trip with me. We had decided to leave from there together. This was actually my first long experience pairing up with someone for my international travel venture. So far, I had been going it alone on my major preparations and although my destinations would be to networks of people, I had depended mainly on me for prep and logistics. That is how I would later continue. My current fellow traveler coincidentally happened to be one of the few American PSF volunteers. (Most of our new PSF friends were from Europe, but that varied a little as well).

I rather liked having a travel partner. He had prompted me to pull myself out of my second to last bout of Pisco belly. This would have been my last experience with it, except that I was gifted with it again, a few months ago as I was revisiting the city. However, a little illness was more than worth all the goodness that came with revisiting my old volunteer stomping ground and Pisqueño friends. The recent trip would have been absolutely perfect save for me lackadaisically eating or drinking the something that had made me ill.

When my travel-buddy-to-be suggested that we leave for Arequipa together, he double checked to see if I might want to wait until I was feeling better, but I told him Nah. I suspected that it didn’t make much difference and like him I was ready to see some more Peruvian sites since I had now let myself get pretty curious from the descriptions I continued to hear. The guide books had nothing on what was relayed in person. I previously had planned to spend the majority of my time volunteering and only visit Machu Picchu and nearby areas. However, I was now drawn towards the ruins, magnificent nature, and additional sites now within a country’s reach. Though Huacachina was touristy and just a few visits away, while in Pisco, it didn’t have the feel of Arequipa. Now, imagine how it suddenly startled my system and you can easily imagine how the feel of tourism in Cusco’s main square blew me away. Fortunately, I had many opportunities to get off that beaten track.

As far as me only partially remembering the Arequipa region – I do especially recall touring Colca Canyon with my new travel friend. We had also been taken on a deeper tour that acquainted us with the little Incan girl, now deemed the Frozen Ice Maiden. She had been one of the young child sacrifices. She was raised for this. She needed to be a virgin, treated nobly, and following her uphill journey to pacify the Gods, she would be given her last portions of coca leaves and other intoxicants, with the intent of dulling her final moments. Her body had been discovered by an anthropologist. With the melting of her ice tomb (via a nearby erupting volcano), she became another microscope to the history of a premiere civilization.

We watched a short film, before viewing the maiden. (Her body is usually displayed in the Museo Santuarios Andinos but sometimes others sit in her place). There are the additional mummies to be seen there as well. My mind wondered and wandered about her because with all these adornments around her resting place and the accompanying rituals, I knew that her community had not anticipated that she would appear anywhere else other than where they had placed her. Yet, I knew this was a huge piece of what connects us all. I wondered about the ritual itself – what her community wanted versus what she would have wanted. There is a lot to think about, relating to how we all move about the world, now as well, and I would know little, if anything, had she not been discovered. Coming to occupy a space that shares infinite energy and stories serves to rock me from time to time. It could be in the hometowns of my sweet departed parents or somewhere like this, only just hearing a story.

I took an additional city tour by myself one day. I was taking this abbreviated one since my friend would be taking a longer one that involved hiking the canyon. (Suddenly I’m recalling he and I also wandering through the intricate structure of a former monastery – but then again there’s that vagueness creeping in). I chose the additional half-day city tour to facilitate my stopover in Arequipa since I didn’t have much time. I would be staying in my next destination of Cusco for a couple of months, where I would be volunteering and taking in an even more picturesque environment that meant unique animals, ruins, city tours, live music, and gracious and mutually curious encounters.

My expedited half-day venture began with the bus just seemingly materializing outside my hostel in the early morning hours. (It is quite nice, however, that these tour groups typically include a pick up at every purchaser’s various hostel or hotel and I’m intrigued by how patient the drivers seem as they get out and knock at the doors of delayed trip goers). I was ready already. This was probably because I had some unhealthy paranoia of being left.

I had quietly left my temporary travel partner who would be venturing out later. He was still asleep and talking in it. It was quite fascinating that he did have full unconscious conversations (He had forewarned me.) Every time I tried to get involved in one, it was quite clear that him suddenly thinking I was within his dream wasn’t how that worked at all. Darn.

Here, I end my somewhat vague Arequipa-stay with some final apologies. Sorry for just an acquaintanceship. Though I want to think a part of you is etched in my mind, I fear that sometimes when I picture your Plaza de las Armas (your main square), I am actually inserting pictures of my life in Cusco, (understandably so, since it came to be more of a temporary home to me). Yet, I pause here to thank you for indulging me for one of my New Year’s Eve’s and giving me the chance to pass some extended time with a PSF friend. I appreciate you being the place that dissipated some lasting ill feelings and showing me my first rental hostels where I could chillax. I’m glad I came to pass the time with even more people who shifted from being strangers in a matter of minutes to being adventurous partners and kindred spirits. Indeed, I am grateful you gave me one more life chapter to write.

Returning to Pisco, Peru: The Conclusion

 APRIL 19, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

My preferred route to recovering from my latest bout of Pisco belly continued to be fasting rather than laying around. My next priority was spending time with my friend, Cris and succumbing to sickness would never do. He was finally free from the work that had held him up the first two days. We share a special bond that was cemented by our now dearly departed friend who first connected us. The same is true for our friend, Chela, making us a forever trio.

Cris had sent me an update while I was still in Tupac Amaru. This was after Felipe and I had finished lunch with Iris and her family and said our goodbyes. We thought we might be back to the district again, possibly the next day, but thank goodness we had done our loving hugs and see-you-laters to them then. A third day wasn’t in the cards so our lovingly extended visit had grown my gratitude even more. Leaving their house and walking towards the district square, I could pick up a publicly accessible Wi-Fi signal. It seemed to cover a small area but had a strong signal and this is where I had picked up Cris’ incoming update.

Thank goodness for Felipe. I don’t know that I would have additionally made it to the park after leaving Iris’s place, before we worked to get a collectivo back. I definitely had to sit down for a bit, before I could take that ride. I was dizzy from the sun and my new sickness. Still I was determined. I would make it back and meet up with Cris for the rest of the day. The original plan was to connect in Pisco’s Plaza de las Armas (the main square) but he was so kind. He would end up waiting downstairs in my hostel lobby, just a little later that day. This meant he was actually sitting sort of diagonal from Felipe who was sitting, resting downstairs after we returned. I was back upstairs, refreshing and working not to keep either of my friends waiting too long. Felipe was dozing when I returned. That made total sense. Our morning and afternoon had been fruitful with bustling activity that was also delicately peaceful.

My intention had been not to keep my latest visitor and old-time friend waiting at all but I really did need to take some extra time because of the looming stomach issues. Like Felipe, Cris looked the same to me. I had to think and mention how we were all just aging like fine wine. I introduced the two of them and we walked out together. We invited Felipe along on our journey (our program) but he mentioned needing to meet up with a friend. He parted ways with us outside and us two, Cris and I, were just primarily in awe of the passage of time and the surrealness that we friends were back here together again.

We are close in age and have a lot in common. We would spend the next several hours walking, chatting and reviewing the city of Pisco. We started at our dear friend’s resting place. It was so hard to believe that he wouldn’t be walking about with us this time. He would have been laughing, teasing and endlessly making sure we were fed at his home with his wife and 2 boys. Cris and I reflected in the cemetery. We stood there, reminiscing, loving, thinking. I felt a peace and a pain. He had been such an integral help to all the volunteers and treated my roommate (at the time) and me to some additional special times. This is family. Cris and I know this, and we decided that he is still here. Energy never disappears, only transforms.

We walked to the new mall area, where I was treated to his favorite ice cream, flavored lucuma, and I wondered if my dessert taste buds existed before this. We sat chatting, savoring and then walked back towards the main square.  We would then visit the newly refinished Malecón (waterfront) but first I needed to make a pit stop at the hostel, because as I noted, I am sick. I am very happy but my body knows it is still not ok. I was teasing Cris along the way because it seemed like someone knew him at every turn and knowing now that he is a huge Beyoncé fan, I teased him that he is the one that is actually a pop star. Then I thought, wait, and posed the question whether he would actually be her or Jay Z. He confirmed that it would be the both of them, combined.

Clever that my illness which had momentarily brought me back to my hostel, would put us back outside just in time to unexpectedly see our friend Chela walking up the street towards us. It’s a small world, but life is also more magical than coincidental. She was able to join us as we headed towards the water. We stopped at a store along the way, but I filled her in that I shouldn’t and couldn’t be ingesting anything more that day. It was the safest bet. We reached the beach. The boardwalk was the only mainstay of my time there. Cris confirmed this when I wondered out loud and he cautioned me to watch my step. There were gaps in the wood that you could step into, some quite large. The other walkers were enjoying but minding their steps just the same. We looked for a convenient spot to step off. The boardwalk extended over the ground and then further over the water. There were no step like structures off the sides but we watched as a young guy stepped down into a fallen broken side that dipped back to the land. It was both hard wood and reed like. It was perfect. Cris went first and we all had to jump a little to get back to the flat surface. He held his arms up in case we needed a hand down, but we made it smoothly.

They had built so much commercial activity out here now. My! I can only imagine what more interesting moments that us volunteers could have cooked up here had all of this been in place 9 or so years ago. We had entertainment, both existing and self-produced, at the time, but having this and the mall area would have opened up all kinds of new possibilities.

The three of us chatted back towards the square. We came upon the large elevated Pisco sign as the night enveloped us. Chela would depart from here, right after we said our goodbyes and took our last group pictures for now. Cris walked me back to my door. How sweet it is to be taken from point A all around back to point A again. My healthcare-app pedometer put me at well over 15,000 lovely steps that day.

I spent the next day and a half not eating (still being considerably sick) and wrapping up tasks. I had one outstanding translation assignment that was to be due shortly. I would submit it from Pisco, making me officially a digital nomad in my mind (though I still have a full-time day job).

Felipe and I had actually been invited back to Villa Tupac Amaru for a third day for the community celebration, but I realized that I really needed the day to let myself continue healing while I simultaneously took care of business. One special errand was for another local friend who I only got to see a little and who wasn’t doing so well. I also needed to organize my possessions, both old and new, and finally, I wanted to pick up some quality Pisco liquor to bring back to my dear friend in the DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia). Cris had given me the name of two high-level brands. I recall that I had my first Pisco Sour when I lived in Pisco (per it being the city of its origin despite Chile’s protest) and I had my best Pisco Sours there. I wondered if they were made with Portón or Biondi.

  • My go to stop didn’t have the proper brands, but the cashier here directed me to an alternative stop

My last day was successful with task completion although sickness was still threatening to overtake me. There was the heat, the dizziness, and the lack of food (because I didn’t want to risk eating). Still I needed to persevere, and I had faith that I’d be normal again soon. At first, I felt like I wasn’t going to make it through the local bank line (I stepped out twice.) The standing for so long was getting the better of me but I kept thinking of this other local friend who was unlike the ones who had been treating me over the last few days. I made it through. Mission complete.

Though I hadn’t been able to see everyone, I thought how I had reconnected under the very eyes of some very dear friends. I had visited the former area of the Pisco Sin Fronteras house and walked by the doors of our former home. I had seen our spot when I wasn’t sure I would. I walked along much of the city, much of our old stomping grounds. I was here and there and feeling complete. A life full circle was reminding me more of my goals. I was finally there again when I knew there was no way I couldn’t be.

Pisco, Peru. I love you dearly. I hold you closely and I’ll see you later. You made me more of who I am and who I plan to be. Thank you, reader, for sharing it with me.

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 1                 Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 2

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 3                 Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 4

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 4

MARCH 31, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I continued on with my mission the next day. I didn’t know if it would be completed but knew it was possible. The objective was to follow up on a fellow volunteer’s request to revisit a dear project of his and a dear family. The goal was easily placed upon my heart. At the same time, I came to remember that this was also coincidentally the family that had introduced me among their relatives as “sobrina de Obama”. The only problem was that I did not realize that I had the last name switched up on the first day, so Felipe and I initially embarked to the correct location with incorrect data. However, this allowed us the interesting experiences we had at the Vlla Tupac Amaru police station in addition to friending one of this district’s administrator. This was also the day I walked the second highest number of steps since I started noting them on my healthcare app.

My dear retired Felipe was true to his word when he said the program was mine to make. We found ourselves in the central area across from the police station once the collectivo driver dropped us off. We were also near one of many parks. We would eventually visit the one especially constructed for the community by a group of volunteers. I had been there twice during my time there, to see the park and the family. The family was indeed delightful and resilient.

Finding ourselves now across from the Tupac Amaru police station, I noticed that the gentleman standing outside of it was holding a rifle. I was tempted to have this be an addition to my photo gallery but was also thinking me aiming my camera phone at him and perhaps him aiming something else at me wasn’t ideal. He wasn’t standing outside for an extended period of time when we were there. We headed inside the station and Felipe broke the ice, set it up, giving my background about our volunteer group and the project. My Spanish was measured, charismatic and flawless with each officer as they shuffled us into their back office. They told me to make myself comfortable, pointing to a seat in the office to which they guided us. I sat. Felipe stood beside me. There was something to the militaristic feel of the moment that made me feel I needed to behave formally. Yet, what came across the most was their willingness to find an answer to the location of both the family and the park question. One by one, various officers would enter the office trying to recall the park or the name I had given them, which at this point was still incorrect. Some generally recalled the park that had been built by the Pisco Sin Fronteras volunteers. They nodded knowingly towards a distant memory.

(I would not discover the right name until I was back at my hostel later that night.) Here, we were encircled by 4 to 5 officers at a time. The gentleman that occupied the office sat diagonal, searching the database for us. The gentleman that ushered us in sat across from me now. The message of our purpose would get relayed to all the guys entering and exiting and I appreciate how considerately they would try to recall and find information. The Afro Peruvian ones would seem to do it with a familial nod. I’m glad everyone was nice, and I decided to continue going along with their substantial assistance for as long as it lasted, rather than call attention to the idea that I may be wasting their time. I’m getting wiser and learning that dismissing myself can be dismissive to others. We have to give help and we have to accept it. We are here for each other, in whatever form that may prove to take.

We thanked them and walked towards an area that was a good lead. So many steps taken that day. (My Rally healthcare pedometer app concurred.) We asked more details of a few people along the way and we had some increasing success. One such instance was when a family directed us to the district director, Maritza. (She and I are Facebook friends now and her tagline reads FULL OF LOVE – which is true.) As busy as she was, she threw herself into helping us find the family and the park. I tell you it will be wonderful what she can accomplish the next day when I actually have the correct name for her.

Maritza’s continued busyness: The next day she would be preparing for a huge community gathering, all about providing resources and improving the local conditions. She would personally be going to Pisco’s main square early in the morning to pick up groceries. She and her team would later be cutting up vegetables and preparing a large dinner to go along with the event. She said we could return to her office here in Tupac Amaru around 10:00 a.m. the next day. It had been late when we began this first day’s visit. Felipe had added something to the story of me doing something like a follow up interview, but I think the generosity was forthcoming enough with the recognition of me being a former PSF volunteer. Still it was endearing, when I’d hear him chime in and add something on my behalf.

We returned not promptly the next day. I knew it was unusual for Felipe to be running late so I walked along the plaza not far from my hostel, sending Maritza a message that we were still on our way. I knew very strongly that she would be the key to me finding the family that wasn’t really missing. Plus, I now had more information for her. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, but the Iris we sought had to be a Facebook connection to my friend who had made the request. She was. He had just made a minor typo in the last name he had sent me. My choices were reduced to two people now and I was confident that Maritza would be a big help. When she failed to recognize the mistaken Facebook contacts I had shown her the day before, it was actually a reassurance that she was truly familiar with who did and didn’t live there. More specifically, the prior confusion came with me only having the right first name correct the day before and it had been 9 years too long for me to be certain if Iris in pictures was the same woman I had met just twice.

Martiza’s eyes immediately lit up with recognition when I showed her the new photos. She directed Felipe and I to Iris’s sister’s office and appealed to her to reach out to Iris’s children. She had given her the background information about me and my hope to reconnect. Her sister relayed this from her desk phone and Iris’ son and daughter excitedly came to retrieve us. They would ride back over with us in a tuk tuk to where they now lived with their mom, this sister and the extended family. We had located them! I was banking on this working out eventually if we asked enough questions. The children’s excitement mirrored ours. They were full of life, full of smiles.

I was imagining that Sam, who was a lead volunteer on this project, would be pleased. I was honored to say hi on his behalf and likewise I was personally thrilled to see the family I knew to tag me as sobrina de Obama.

There was actually an update from Sam’s visit about two years prior. It was dear. The children had been outspoken in their questions and ideas for him. From what I could see, they were equally energetic. They were mindful and well behaved as well. Before riding back over to their home, they had hugged us. We chatted a little. I asked about their new little hermanita and then, Vamos. We were soon in the main room with them and their mom, Iris.

We pulled up and she was in a chair feeding and bonding with the newest little sibling, who happened to be just 9 days old. Mother and child seemed one instead of two. Our conversation was like being home, comfortable laced with humor (everything in Spanish). Relaxing. We caught up on lives ongoing, where were particular volunteers now, which ones were still a couple, who was married, etc. We laughed fondly of my back in the day intro to the family. I was touched she remembered. I had been there just twice, visiting and for the fundraising dinners. I was on several projects and a project manager for some time, but this was not one of mine. I was fortunate I got to meet them.

Felipe and I flew past several hours there. He now had a new connection in Villa Tupac Amaru, thanks to this visit. He quickly bonded with Iris’ older relatives. We had moved our conversation from the main room with just him, Iris and her children to outside where the older relatives and two teenage nephews were preparing lunch. The nephews were cutting up potatoes to be added in and later playing on their phones. We were now in a fortress while what made up the cooking area could be seen on the other side through the sheer covering that surrounded us. We sat near the dining table and it felt like we were a part of the garden. We were encircled by nature, chatting about all things under the sun. A pet cat played with the oldest but young daughter. She grabbed two mangoes for Felipe and I to take with us later on. Lunch was ready and in true Peruvian style, we were automatically included. The places at the table were counted out with us as additions. This was not even a second thought.

I now, unfortunately, had to come to terms with the fact that I was getting sick. I felt I could pretty much pinpoint the cause. I had made a very rookie mistake and let myself enjoy a little side salad during my lunch out on my second day in Pisco. It was a quality one, sitting there all small and unassuming, next to my pollo milanesa. I was even venturing off my now mostly vegetarian diet with the pollo, but this was rare. I had not done red meat for decades but still would have some chicken, fish, turkey and some other seafood. Yet, for the last year I wasn’t even doing chicken and turkey, and this was truly a preferential development to the taste, feel and love of delectable non-meat products. (I could honestly eat vegetables, veggie burgers, veggie chicken, biscuits plus all types of bread and dessert and I would be happy for the rest of my days).

Back with this salad as the culprit: It had avocado, tomato, lettuce, cucumber and a tasty sauce. It was little next to my chicken and rice and potatoes. It occurs to me the water the rice was cooked in could have also been the offender. It could have either been that the salad was washed in regular water or the rice water wasn’t boiled enough. It is just that you simply do not partake of it directly from the plumbing. You take a chance because the food is wonderful, and food is necessary, and it could have been okay. Fortunately, there are massive amounts of bottle water sold everywhere as well but you are not always in control of the source, prep or end product. I know that living there, we could also get careless in our own precautions. That was my story at least one of the three times I had Pisco belly 9 years ago. I joked with friends that I guess I was trying to relive most everything this time around and so I stayed sick for my last couple of days in Pisco.

Being sick was not at all something that I was going to let interfere with my fun and happiness. It may have been slowing me down and periodically sitting me down from bench to bench, but I was planning on powering through. I felt, from experience, that food would exacerbate the problem, so I was left with fasting and eventually introducing some light food back into my diet a day later, a day after the stomach issues first began. I had every intention of completing my final objectives.

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Conclusion

Continuing Soon

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 3

MARCH 28, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I opted for the driver who was the most proactive and right away I was shocked by the shopping center, which was sprawling for the area that welcomes you to Pisco. If this was just entering the city, I could only imagine how the Plaza de Armas (the main square) must have developed. It was the area that seemed the most commercial when we were there. While I was in Lima my first day, my Pisqueño friend had prepared me for this, but of course seeing it still struck me. I had met up with him during my one day in Lima and amazingly met another PSF volunteer, who also happened to be traveling to Pisco the next day. It was a reminder that life is more mystical than coincidental. He was from Scotland. His stint in Pisco had happened to be after mine so how nice that I got the chance to add another volunteer to our big but familial network. Cool that we would also end up hanging out the next night with the organization’s cofounder/local amazing friend.

Felipe, another local friend from Pisco and now retiree, had agreed to meet up with me early on, following my bus arrival to Pisco. The 7:30 a.m. bus ride from Lima had got me there around 11:30 a.m. Felipe remembered me even more fondly than I realized, and interestingly, not from one of our construction projects, but from the additional English classes that some of us taught. He would end up sticking by me for a majority of this trip, making navigating back through Pisco even more comfortable. Indeed, the bus had delivered me so promptly to Pisco that my room wasn’t ready yet. It turns out that as I took this time to re-associate myself with the square, I missed Felipe’s initial visit to my hostel. He was early.

The hostel employee, Melissa (Meli) filled me in when I got back around 1:00 p.m. She let me know he would be returning soon. I had taken a general inventory of the Plaza, including lunch. I sent Felipe an update on messenger (we had been corresponding about logistics for several days now leading up to my arrival). We would meet at 1:45 p.m. How sweet that he had arrived earlier! I ran upstairs to prepare quickly.

He returned. He was sitting in the hostel’s cozy lobby area. I could see his profile as I passed from upstairs through the kitchen area towards him. (Meli had just called up to let me know he was back). I gave him the most interminable momentary hug possible. We were delighted. He handed me a bag with 3 mangos, that he had gotten in Ica, a city with an abundance of quality agricultural spaces. We chatted. He looked the same to me, as if it were 9 years ago. I checked the time. We had tentative plans to meet another friend of mine around 2:00 p.m. but this friend had been delayed. Felipe and I strolled outside. While we caught up and waited, I asked what he’d like to do to which he essentially answered – whatever I wanted, the world was my oyster.* The program was mine to make, he reminded me throughout my trip, and this is very symbolic of the journey I’ve decided to continue following.

I was still picking up the hostel’s Wi-Fi in the part of the plaza we were in and got an update that my other friend, Cris would be about an hour or so more. My thinking was that for the time being it would be nice to continue hanging out over some natural not overpriced organic juice while continuing to check out the city’s more modern digs. I noticed that there was quite a bit of construction going on and I’m going to say this is a sign of constant progress for both the community and the workers. I can see the improvements, but I can also see the portions with limited resources and I know someone currently who I wish I could be helping out even more. Yet all the other people that I had the opportunity to chill with do not have such issues to contend with, fortunately.

Felipe and I stepped into an open store front that housed some restaurants and I believe a pharmacy. The building wasn’t as large as much as it was tall. There were about 4 levels. We rode the elevator up and were immediately greeted by a sweet girl who I believe to be of Venezuelan descent. (Many people have moved from Venezuela to various parts of Peru because of the difficulties in their home country). She is offering a menu but I fill her in on my simple juice hankering. She was on board with this and I was excited because I saw maracuya on the menu. She returned to me, however, to say they were out. I feel like maracuya is out everywhere in DC too. Orange juice was a good substitute for me and Felipe as well as we sat, talking. We left and nearing the plaza and picking up Wi-Fi again I saw that Cris had updated me. Work was keeping him extra long and it would do the same the following day. I knew that could happen since I had arrived during mainly weekdays, but I had hope. I was correct with my aspirations. We would more than make up for it two days later. We would catch up, visit various sites and even coincidentally run into another mutual friend we had been hoping to see.

Felipe and I continued our hangout for most of the first half of the day when I received an update from the co-founder of our group to see if I was available to meet her later that night. I invited him along. She is local, born and raised, and the one who managed it all along with the Director that she and her brother had selected. This was along with additional administrative staff. Her message included that she was going to be meeting with another volunteer, Gordon who happened to be in town. Funny that I had just met him the evening before in Lima. It was unexpected that I would add another PSF volunteer to my mental rolodex and equally unexpected was that the 3 of us would come to share a nice evening (the following day), sipping beer and catching up by the new and improved Malecón (the waterfront). We had chosen there after humorously and unsuccessfully getting something to drink at a pizza place. The pizza place would have been frequented and full with us volunteers had it existed during our life there. It is now situated in the midst of our former, very familiar old stomping grounds.

The tuk tuk driver, that delivered Felipe and I there that night, started a mini argument with him before letting us go and shortly before we would see Gordon. The driver wanted a sol or so more because he had initially drove us to the wrong gas station, where we all planned to meet. This proved to be just about 30 seconds in the wrong direction so I could see why Felipe disagreed with the mistaken destination costing us so much more. I offered to pay the difference after letting them “discuss” but Felipe was treating me for my birthday. He handed the driver some more money and we were peacefully on to the next thing, standing outside, waiting. As Gordon approached, not knowing we would be there (in the spot the cofounder arranged), I softly greeted him with a “There he is.” I introduced him to Felipe. As we chatted, it was again strange but magical being back here. Standing here, across the street from the old volunteer house. It was comforting to lay my eyes on this structure once again. Yet it was odd to imagine how many of us lived in that space. It was likewise interesting to imagine all the activity that went on inside, how it was now quiet but still contained our stories.

All the dozens of exchanges and activities so far in my current visit, (like preparing myself very early for the bus ride, sweet random entertaining conversations, and some exchanges with strangers – not so sweet) had caused me to continually forget that this second day in Peru was actually my birthday. That is something I could previously not imagine ever forgetting, whether the day proved to be horrible, enjoyable or uneventful. This one was enjoyable and eventful, but I would mostly only be inadvertently reminded by my friends’ well wishes. I was taken in by a flurry of happenings and thoughts, although I had purposely planned to arrive here on this day.

The day was darkening as Felipe, Gordon and I stood. It was about 7:30, as we took it all in, filling up on the past and the now.  It was again surreal to see our local mutual friend, and PSF cofounder as she at last headed our way. I started cheering before she reached our sides. We were all smiles. I believe Gordon mentioned that he had actually been there a couple years prior and he goes back regularly when work finds him in the capital city.

Felipe excused himself early on in our walk. Before we reached our first stop, he explained that he would be heading back home. This was not before leaving me with 10 soles, for what he thought I might spend for the rest of the night. I didn’t need anything but it was my birthday, I remembered again, so I think it was an additional treat for the night and to make sure I was taken care of.

Our first stop was to the aforementioned pizza place. Had it been there before, it would have been overrun by us but also had it been there, it would have definitely been out of place and out of time. It didn’t match the circumstances of our life then. As much as our surroundings had to offer us then, it was the necessities available, the vacancy of some things you realize you don’t need or miss, and the surprising availability of other items that made that time special for what it was. Yet, let me divulge as amazing as Peruvian cuisine is and always will be, it was in Pisco in 2010-2011, that pizza had not yet been perfected.

Very briefly, as a little sidestep side note here: I still suffer from a pizza deficiency from my stay in Pisco. It’s not that pizza in Peru isn’t good. I had tasty pizza there. It is just that in Pisco, at the time, where we were, as amazing as the food is, there were some ma and pa shops that got the recipe turned around. I am so impressed by the pizza shops that are there now and my friend informed me that the one in which we were chatting was good. I believe her but when we sat down and when we were handed a menu, an involuntarily voice inside me asked aloud, “Is it good?!” She smiled knowingly and again I believe her but it so happens that we weren’t hungry or wanting for anything currently but something to drink and the time and stories we had to share.

Beer was not served there (the waiter, a friend, was perhaps going to bring some back) but the lack of anything there was no matter. We were enthralled, catching up, and then we had the good excuse for a walk to our final venue, the Malecón. We would pass numerous wild dogs along the way. That was normal. I felt very at home and oddly always felt instantly at home with these dogs. I can’t explain it except that some natural part of me is wired that way. These dogs felt as natural as the birds that glide around me in DC, though they can be very dangerous.

This night proved such a peaceful one in the present moment, with our collective distinctive memories as we teased each other. As it was time for us to part, our dear local friend took special care to ensure that our respective rides to our next destinations would be safe. I had purposely gone backpackless for this night journey for I knew that it would be dark, and I may possibly find myself riding back by myself as a mere consequence of us each retreating to our respective home bases. I was correct about that, you see because, you recall, Felipe had left earlier. He and I would continue our “program” tomorrow.

Gordon was departing to the city of Paracas, Peru. Our friend pinpointed a car for him for his longer trip and a safe compact tuk tuk to deliver me back to the main plaza. She double checked that the price was okay with me. It was no problem. I blew my kisses and we made tentative plans to meet later on in my stay. Returning to the main square felt super secure. She knew the driver and his girlfriend (yes, his girlfriend was there, perfectly nestled into the space beside him with her arm resting around his waist). As we toddled along, I knew I had gotten an ideal arrangement. I leaned back, had my exact payment in my pocket ready and there was nothing I had to worry about leaving behind or hanging precariously from me. There were certain signs to look out for when traveling around, certain circumstances to avoid and I will put together the comprehensive collection but for now what stands out most is that two tuk tuk drivers (not a couple) riding up front is one ride that we were always told to avoid. Typically, you can expect there to just be one driver. Rarely did I see the former.

It was not a long ride and I bounced out in front of my hostel, pretty much like I had been back in Pisco for months instead of days. Meli asked if had my key to my room. When any guests returned, they had to unlock the main door and I think especially because she didn’t see me holding on to the big circular key chain, she wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost it or left it inside. In addition to temporarily not carrying my backpack, I had especially slipped my key off the large but cute chain. Otherwise I would have been holding a very big thing in my hand that named my hostel and room number.

Continuing on, I still had a mission I was looking forward to completing over the next few days in Pisco. I was looking forward to it although I wasn’t completely sure it was possible:

Returning to Pisco, Peru Part 4

Continuing Soon

*Spanish conversations translated to English