The ups and downs. I think my sanity has been saved by no longer having to report to my second to last boss. I realized part of the struggle was not just proving myself to her, but increasingly more apparent, proving myself to me.
I realized, after several years, at a few different jobs, that attaining 100% on a performance review was designed to never be attainable. The deeper problem with such a scenario is how many people can either get buried while unsuccessfully trying to get there or ultimately just feel defeated. I am sure there is a healthier way to look at this as well as a healthier work environment where this is not a thing. Unfortunately, the luck of us landing in a healthy environment with good management may not be as attainable as matching our geography with our skills and who decides to hire us for the right amount of money? Also, will that end up matching our passions?
My second to last boss was daunting, and perhaps me having more credentials than her played a part in her reminding me/reminding us that she was on some imaginary upper level rather than our equal level. Then… she increasingly toyed with and finally crossed the lines of bigotry from the time I worked for her from 2015 through 2019, and even after I changed departments in my final year at the company in 2020, I felt the target on me. In the moments I instinctively countered her, I awaited the revenge *whether it be from the COO we both reported to or from her directly.
The fight I had in me to remember my credentials and all the praise I got from the members and customers we helped was really a fight to remember that I was good enough and not always just as good as the last thing I did. Some good coworkers also really encouraged me through those days. We found it mutually necessary.
There was a struggle to remember all the hard work I put in as well, because as usual, sometimes life gets in the way (we do not just have work to contend with but a whole array of items we need to survive and be a happy healthy person). Life plays out differently at different times. Look at any one of us and each person’s insecurities and vulnerabilities present uniquely and again vary depending on the moment.
So there I was with her and that structure and here I am without it. Being digital and being nomad has saved me from aging ungracefully (lol) and I have likewise been saved from feeling indescribably perpetually less than her or others. I also see myself as more capable than I knew. I forget. Life reminds me. I see how okay we should be at owning our accomplishments.
Thinking of the boss even back then, I found it better not to carry a grudge, because I noticed that anger blinded me more than acknowledging the concurring sadness and hurt I felt at being disregarded and dejected. It is easier and more stereotypical to be deemed an angry person (that made it somehow easier for her to double down) than it was to give me the raw despondent feelings of being human and heartbroken at poor treatment.
I remember a guy once ghosting me and reappearing to the tune of a text and email that simply stated: “How mad are you at me?” Within those moments, I realized it was easier for him to face an angry caricature of me than the true person he had disappointed. “…mad…?” How about “How sad and/or disappointed are you?”
There seems to be a lot more I know about myself. There also seems to be so much more I could uncover. Being nomadic, I am possibly learning more about all of life than I ever thought I would.
I was looking for live music. I was looking for DJs. I was looking for the occasional cocktail but mostly I was panning out for camaraderie and a chance to continue dancing. Another part of the life plan decided: Dancing will continue to be my natural high, my ready escape and relaxed synchronicity between my mind, attitude and body.
Navigating my way back through Peru tells me what I need for a healthy life, or I guess, rather for a considerably healthier life. As noted here, I have reintroduced one element which comes through dancing. I really got to feel into this during college. Sometimes, I forget because of circumstances. I was last in DC before starting to travel again and there were times when everything added up: Right places, right music, right price and willing friends.
The combination was not as easy as it had been during university which seemed readily conducive to more divey bars/clubs and or upscale-like venues and dancing events. Still, there was definitely a time, in the middle of my DC life when a group of us were frequenting one neighborhood or another like U Street or Dupont Circle. I was in my element. Later on unfortunately, this was not so much. I could understand why. A lot of schedules, logistics and motivation (in which others additionally feel self-conscious while dancing) were present.
Then, coinciding with my first trip to Pisco, Peru, I unexpectedly found myself in the company of many people locally and from various countries who I would accompany to discos and bars on nights and weekends. Music and dance also permeated our volunteer home/headquarters.
As I started my third time back in Peru, I was not so sure about getting to enjoy music and connect with people. This time, I had picked up travel again in San Juan and then spent some time in Mexico. Notably, Puerto Rico was very satiating since there is a big dance scene, but I did not get this immediate fulfillment when I moved on to Merida, Mexico (though I love this place). Coincidentally, I had not danced much in Mexico, my time more so playing out with friends in places without ideal dance floors or music. (I like a variety but hanging out plus dancing was not coming to me).
Then, these last two weeks happened, and it was a mirror of my co-volunteer time back in Pisco and Cusco, but this time as a digital nomad trying out a much different lifestyle. Splitting my time between hostels, hotels and Airbnb apartments in various Peruvian neighborhoods played a good part. Getting time to regroup and switch up neighborhoods and go back to community in hostels helped me connect with more travelers and residents.
Having a bar upstairs in a hostel is particularly helpful. I met a few people from Peru along with a Colombian doctor. Though I have connected with various people while walking around and hanging out, considerable time would pass without me finding people who in addition to the fun treks and sight-seeing, also wanted to relax with music and dancing. This second to last hostel was one answer. Some people naturally have a way of making me feel at home: In addition to these four local people, I clicked with an Italian traveler and her friends, leading us to another ideal club, where we could dance with each other and others from Peru. The scene reminded me that I had also connected with an American guy and Venezuelan expats similarly, about a month prior to this.
Once I started college and imitated the dance moves I saw in pop culture and improvised with my own, I recalled how I had likewise done so in my childhood. During those previously shy phases, I would simply dance alone in my room, in our basement or when I was home alone.
There seems to be some added meditative element. There also seems to be a release like a sigh of relief and joy complementing the expression. My dancing inhibitions also come and go. I can very much understand motivation being based on mood and other elements. My wavering confidence has the potential to reappear.
What strikes me now is appreciation for my recent dance partners. There is also cause to appreciate all the partners that came before whether we were in a club, home, dorm room, restaurant, open space outside, etc. I am more pleased now to think back over a lifetime of so many meeting of the minds under good beats, soothing rhythms, shared smiles and connections in a multitude of glances.
I am entering decision time. I guess I should not renew my lease for another year. Foremost on my list would be living in Cusco. I would get to live in one of my favorite cities in one of my favorite countries, enjoy all the good food and lively atmosphere, celebrate and enjoy more relaxation.
The cost of living in Washington D.C. has proven itself to be among one of the highest. More so lately, I cannot help imagining how much easier I could live as a freelancer elsewhere, perhaps even in my own ideal paradise.
Still, I have thoroughly enjoyed the setting of D.C. and had longed to come here for the fusion of people and cultures, plus DC has the DMV aspect of very easily being able to cross between DC itself and parts of Maryland and Virginia. One can naturally work and live in or among one of the three.
Times have shifted here, however. I do not feel all the same ease I previously felt, even as a mostly laid back soul who works on holding space for a lot of people. Maybe that can be attributed to all the tension across multi-governmental levels. I cannot be sure about that. Very much depending on the venue and crowd, from place to place, I feel some ease or a lot of ease and fun and in other bars, restaurants, museums, etc, there is more of a tension, feigning to be relaxed. Maybe, there is something to me being “the other” that I just do not get everywhere. For some reason, it seems to be more apparent now and the exact opposite feeling I loved getting everywhere by moving to a cosmopolitan area. Perhaps, it is definitely a sign to get away again for now or for much longer. Recall the expression “good vibes”. There really does seem to be something to feeling the energy in the room and the energy you get and give to other people. There is an overall energy you sense in the air and the ambience compounds your feelings.
I am thankful I have been reminded of an earlier goal and drive to not just work and hang out abroad but to consider living there as well. I immediately felt renewed when I started mapping it out (even just at seeing the vision) again. I saw myself in Cusco’s main square again. I saw the historical landmarks and architecture. I felt the music of the bars and clubs. I again tasted the good food at the Peruvian, European and American styled restaurants where I had appeased my appetite during my past stay and trek. Yes. The comforting and tantalizing tastes also filled my memories. So for longer-term peace of mind and enjoyable goals, I’m going to continue to work through the rest of the holiday season and determining savings for travels vs. bills vs cost of living. Where am I living and where am I going? A reset was clearly needed.
My Cusqueño (Cusco) organization volunteer days also stood out in the difference that our volunteering constantly centered on being a good role model. While people in Pisco held us in high regard for our hard work, it was no profound secret that we down-timed thoroughly as well. At this school in Cusco, however, it seemed that every moment was a teachable one. We would not just reprimand the misbehavior of the many children in our classes for picking on others, talking over others or some other improper behavior, but we would also follow up with a proper explanation of why the right behavior was necessary. We then could follow up with how the proper behavior met with the ethical standards promoted by the school. At least, this is how my perspective developed as I was working to properly carry out my assignments. Again, I compare this to PSF. Though rules were present there, we were not always apt to follow them. On the contrary, adherence at this volunteer gig seemed mandatory. A look, a scolding and a certain type of energy from the organizers carried a lot of weight. My closest three friends (also newbies) could speak to this as well. We all happened to stay in the designated volunteer hostel. Two of us shared a room.
I took my regulated cue directly
from the volunteer leadership. You can
read a little more about them in my previous post, Initiation to a Discreet Organization. Now, I agree that promoting
good behavior and ethics and laying them out clearly does make complete sense.
However, I think the expected execution contributed to a different level of
exhaustion – different from the rewarding physical labor I had completed in Pisco.
This proved especially true since some of our noble repetition didn’t always
land in the children’s ears. We were engaging in quite the energy burn.
The inevitable strain extended past
teaching to the way we followed guidelines such as classroom setup and outside
activities – guidelines that were actually preferential etiquette rather than a
set standard of ethics. I again was more accustomed to the grass roots stylings of PSFin
which a variety of plans would still get us to the same successful outcomes.
We tried not to break with
arbitrary protocols in Cusco – arbitrary protocols such as the way our smocks
should be put away or the way we were expected to address every moment of children’s
side chatter during assembly time. But dear goodness! “To err is human;” *
Consequently, as in most circumstances, you finally learn the best way is to simply
do your bestand absolutely don’t worry as
you’re learning and growing.Easier said than done, I know, but the simplest
solution can often be truth. When we are done overanalyzing, there are some basic
thoughts left standing there.
I still wholeheartedly support the
organization’s higher mission. I just also happen to support doing your noble
best. Do right by others all you can while taking care of yourself and notice how
much more life falls into place.
Unfortunately for us, the rigid
overarching expectations continued to spill over into our home. The place was also
open for rent to non-volunteers but a significant number of us newer ones thought
staying there made sense. A couple of long timers did as well but we
had our distinctiveness and a bit of separation from them (a circumstance more
by their design than ours. The
overall mix of the space’s residents made for some interesting
interactions.
Our place was one of those open-air kind of dwellings behind a larger enclosed walled structure, keeping us safe from crime. Walking on to the terrace from our rooms meant overlooking the main downstairs open area and the ability to see across the way to other people’s closed-door rooms. The bathrooms and showers were shared. I wasn’t there a terrifically long time (not as long as I had stayed in Pisco) but I was there long enough to have several roommates, beginning with one from Canada and ending with one from the States like me. By now, I knew travelers mostly from Europe, but my close-knit group (at this time) turned into 3 people from the States, (including myself) and a dear English friend. Being with other US residents had become rare, something I found neither good nor bad, but a unique (and pretty cool) circumstance I hadn’t even imagined.
Thank goodness for Cusco nights and having our own additional outside activities. Good times and bonding in our resting place, of course, had its limitations. The computer/media room closed at about 10:00 pm, so good luck starting a 2-hour movie or winding down with friends. Don’t begin relaxing at the wrong time. We had to schedule just right if we planned on spending some quality time indoors and we decided we wanted to avoid admonishment altogether.
It was far easier to unwind by
exploring the city, dancing, mingling, walking, touring, trying restaurants and
more. Cusco is, after all, a magical city. The only downside was exposing ourselves
to potential crimes that centered on theft, including muggings (depending on which
areas we traveled and how late it was). Consequently, I could make a real case
for the hostel working on encouraging more indoor activities. Yet, the sense
remained that the school structure should mirror where we laid our heads. Whenever
we would happen to return, around 6 a.m., 5 a.m., 3 a.m., 11:00 p.m., etc., we might
spend a little time chatting in each other’s room but the quiet falling over us
more so led to us retiring to our respective beds. (Of course, we also
went out and returned periodically throughout the day as well).
Good on the founder’s objective – everything was designed to help one act right and stay safe. I also take an aside to give him much credit for the incredible design of the place both aesthetically and ecologically. I note this as much as I note my appreciation for his dedication to changing the lives of street and other neglected children.
We simply had to find our place in
this atmosphere, as we too were dedicated to the children. We did. It wasn’t all
that challenging to do. We learned our volunteer roles rather quickly, finding
our inner rhythm to a majorly conservative vibe. Our friends reflected the
world. We met up with locals and foreigners like ourselves. Outside of
teaching, we became accustomed to getting to know many others who were visiting
(typically from Argentina or Chile). We became well acquainted with 3
indigenous gentlemen. They gave us our Quechua names and taught us some wondrous
practices.
There was much to do and learn in
our home-away-from-home environment. I look back and I’m grateful again that Cusco
days and nights made up another part of my physical and mental journey. I
appreciate how my sickness there was only a near chronic cough compared to the
upsetting feeling of Pisco belly. I cannot say it was appreciated in the moment
(not at all romantic to have a coughing fit in the middle of a club or bar,
though our Argentinian and Chilean dance partners didn’t seem to mind). I additionally
can’t claim I appreciated a coughing fit or three when that notorious quiet
fell over the hostel. Oh dear. Oh well. The experience is laughable now and
little inconveniences have a way of making a person more gracious when they are
no longer present.
Interestingly, we would even find
ourselves invited to the homes of the leadership from time to time since we occasionally
dined and danced with them as well. Just the same, my core group and I had found
our own place within a reserved space. Tour guide welcomed but not always
needed. I know I discovered a lot about myself and I suspect my posse did as
well, though I can’t ultimately speak or write for them.
One more chapter – etched in my
heart and memories for all my life long. Thank you for taking the time to share
another part of the journey with me.
I don’t specifically include the name of the second Peruvian organization, where I volunteered. I do this by design. As I was writing a bit about this earlier, I don’t include it, because of some idiosyncrasies of the leadership. I want to be mindful. However, as I wholeheartedly support their mission and good intentions, I am happy to share details to get you there volunteering via email. cassandrajohnson@riskysafetravels.com.
The logo I had found, in literature and online, hovering over their wonderful mission statement to educate street children and other under-served children was exactly how the volunteer hostel appeared in real life. I had been making my way there since my challenging but magical time in Pisco, Peru, followed by my trip to Arequipa andmy harrowing journey to Machu Picchu and other intriguing sites. This would be my last hostel experience in Cusco, and it was ironic because this put me back in a not-so-safe area. As I wrote earlier, I began my time in a different risky part of the city. I later moved to a centrally safe location and now was finding myself back in dangerous territory. This time was different. I felt safe, 90% of the time. I was in my element and there is safety in numbers. I was also distracted by my new volunteer mission and spending time with more like-minded travelers.
The only oddity was the invisible
barrier between the long-time volunteers and us new ones. It is not to say they
didn’t take their time with us, explaining their methods and preferences and
even dining and dancing the night away with us. It was simply that there was an
energy almost as if they were more evolved. Understandably, they were more
indoctrinated into the organization and its… well…organization. Connections
came in fleeting moments. Some momentary concern for our safety or a physical
attraction (undeniable chemistry) between old and new. Game night and lunch fundraisers.
This was all. Admittedly, this includes a lot, but the boundary remained. If
they knew we were staying longer, certainly there would have been some more
softening.
My first day, I was to meet with one of the Directors who would explain some methods, some ground rules. He was nice. British and Indian. We sat down in the office/media room in front of one of a few community computers. He talked about how I would work alongside other co-teachers, how each grade level was charmingly represented by a different fruit. Each week would have a theme (I found this so cute because I digress mentally to how each episode of Sesame Street had a revolving theme). Every element of instruction would connect back to the main ideas, whether this was during the classroom instruction, game time, physical recreation, or art. At the end of the week, each class would put on a show according to the theme, one which they had practiced with the teachers and the school would be especially opened to families and other visitors for a celebratory performance.
Typically, each day, the children would come together, leaving their respective classrooms, as one of the Directors gave a values-based lesson. Good ethics were endlessly reiterated, and the children were reminded to behave as nice, respectful members of the community in and outside the classroom.
So, it went. I would have my initiation into a place with energy that was welcoming but with a protected heart (I don’t think the Directors wanted to be too open to temporary bodies passing through). We were appreciated for our time, but the Founder especially made a point of reminding us how we were not central to the structure. So very different from the open arms in Pisco.
In Cusco, we were only a link in a chain, a link that extended a bit of a distance. We taught and played. Mostly, we shared a lot of work and a single objective to grow the gifts the many children already possessed.
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.
I am still trying to work out the logistics for my trip back to Peru. I was particularly intense about this while at the gym on Christmas Eve and I recall tossing reality around with nostalgia while working out a little harder than usual. The gym would be closed for Christmas and I was hard at work because I wanted to be particularly chill and comfortable with feasting delightfully the next day.
I have known for a while that I need to reignite my personally designed humanitarian tour that began in 2010. During that time span, I volunteered with an earthquake disaster relief organization in Pisco, Peru. I later volunteered at a school in Cusco, Peru and finally ended up in the adorable daycare section at Proyecto Horizonte in Cochabamba, Bolivia.
I am returning late for the Pisco Sin Fronteras (PSF) 10ish year reunion (planned for December) but I’m still planning on visiting my friends of Pisco and reconnecting in person. We’ve been communicating over the years with the promise of seeing each other again but I was more than a little afraid that our salutations were turning into simple expressions.
Returning is one of those things in my life that I know is happening but I don’t have the organization completely laid out yet. It’s one of my travel plans that starts out as an interestingly muddled outline that eventually becomes an almost complete straight path, from my apartment to the airport to the country to the cities to the cathedrals to the museums to the dance clubs. It is a path that becomes delightfully jumbled (just ask Cuba).
I see it happening. I know I will . . . and soon too, because February is on the the horizon! I plan on being under the Peruvian sun on my birthday.
June 29, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON
