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.
Lima used to be the layover. Just one night plus a half of an afternoon before living more remotely.
However, this same remote year, the major city eventually turned into the destination for my upcoming birthday and the same departure point for heading back to the US before I was quite ready to head back.
I was relaxed, still partially anxious. The days prior were good, some brilliant, some just not particularly eventful but the day meant for celebration was one of those epic fails I will need to revisit on a future posting date.
For the moment, I was curious to see what I could do in Lima before leaving in a couple of weeks. Apparently, a lot. I had seen a lot elsewhere in Bolivia and other parts of Peru while volunteering, so I was looking forward to what I could do right before leaving South America the first time.
Although I had spent the last couple of weeks hanging out in Lima, I thought a structured tour-guided outing might prove useful. I sometimes like to mix those in with unplanned exploring, site visits, dancing and hanging out so I can get a layered perspective. I saw the designated tour buses leaving from the main square, seemingly daily. I booked a tour for an upcoming day.
Yet, Lima this time was seemingly just meant to be an offshoot of my own design, some of which included hanging out with my unexpected friend Daniel on my last few days, getting to see our friend in the midst of her hospital recovery, Carnival and a bad adventure in Surco (#revisit birthday).
Since I ran into Daniel (who I had met volunteering in Pisco), he distracted me considerably during that official planned tour. I tried to focus but realized I was fortunate to already have had all the tours and trips I had throughout my travels and I was rather more fortunate to have met so many people like him.
I realized we were just too excited about catching up and accidentally leaning in whispering too long between tour explanations. I heard some details before eventually realizing I was just fine with being distracted. From time to time, Iife reminds us to give up control. There is enough time to follow agendas and many many second opportunities.
Since I had coincidentally ran into him at the picturesque word-of-mouth hostel just days ago, his company reminded me of my foundational goals living abroad: lending a hand to community organizations, immersing myself with lovely language and culture and being open to whatever each day may bring.
The setting meant so much more with both local residents and other travelers like him.
Restaurants, grocery stores, the main square, Carnival events (surprisingly the hospital), and everyday apparent history: Lima the first time around was uniquely just what we made it and what it made for us.
I am more than okay with ideal consistent weather and good reasons for being distracted😊
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
This continues Part 2 of my first two days in Peru.
Parting from the quite intriguing
response of the Peruvian customs agent, I headed towards the taxi area that
said legitimate (as my 2010 travel search results had suggested). The recommendation meant to look out for the
registered ones and not to venture out in any unofficial looking cars. The
directness of the sign threw me a little. Still it proved true and the other
drivers could be avoided by their unmarked cars. This recommendation became invaluable
to me in Cusco as well and when I later returned to Lima.
Despite internet connectivity issues and a dying computer,
my first hours were a success. I was squared away in my hotel and the obstacles
were not changing my plans.
The next day brought back normal possibilities. The sun
echoed that. I was easily able to get to the now open store and arm myself with
backup devices like a phone from a local company. I now had the added option of
texting internationally. (I had assumed I would be on my charged computer with
a working hotspot, so I didn’t feel the need for an international package on my
phone plan at the time.) Ultimately, I wouldn’t need much. Between the
volunteer house and the multipurpose gas station across the street, I was set to
connect with everyone.
My friend and I had both stayed overnight in the highly
recommended Miraflores district. She was in a nearby hostel. We connected on
Skype once I was up and running and planned to meet and taxi over to the bus terminal.
There was nothing daunting about the bus from Lima to Pisco, as local travelers
came to have our back. They called attention to our stop to make certain we
didn’t lose our way. We were okay but welcomed the confirmation. It was equal
to the way some DC metro riders will look out for visitors whose unfamiliarity
with the train system and their surroundings is apparent on their uneasy faces.
Four hours done. We got off the bus onto a dirt road with
some street vendors and colectivos (shared taxis). It was dusk now. Colectivos
were extremely apparent in and around Pisco due to their standard car size. The
other rides that we came to pay for locally would be in the beetle sized tuk
tuks. Our driver packed our bags into the back. It was noted on the
organization’s website that drivers would instantly know if we said the house
with the blue doors, the volunteer house, or some similar description. I told
my new friend I was glad she was there with me (I would have been uncertain
alone) and she stated that she was similarly glad for my company and that I
could explain our objectives to the driver and others in Spanish. We relaxed
into the vehicle. He smiled knowingly. We smiled and off we were, just a bit
away from our new home.
At last, we were in front of the blue doors. Our car
pulled up about the same time that several other US volunteers arrived. That was
actually a rarity. Many volunteers were from Europe and the organization
welcomed volunteers on any day. There was a good deal of people from the States
during my stay, but never were we a majority. Australia, New Zealand, Mexico,
Costa Rica, Brazil, Canada and Peru were present in addition to the influences
from France, England, Scotland and Ireland. The diversity preceded and followed
me until the organization was disbanded. Volunteering abroad had become even
more interesting. I hadn’t realized we would bring together so much diversity.
I was still taking in the scene after just arriving. I
stood just a few feet in the door. My heavy suitcase was nothing to the volunteer
coordinator that lifted it onto one shoulder and ran upstairs. He returned
immediately as there was no vacancy. Someone even playfully tickled his stomach
as he walked upstairs. His response was just a chuckle, a mild protest and no
danger whatsoever in dropping it. My friend and I would temporarily stay at a
neighboring hostel that was closely affiliated with our group.
Before I retired for the night, one of my future best
friends walked over to me. We talked briefly. I was still visually reconciling the
volunteer video, that I’d seen a few months earlier, with what was now a
leisure Friday. This was a time for volunteer socializing and regrouping, and I
loved the duality of it! There was still one more half day of volunteering on
Saturdays, but Friday has its place. iPods playing, laughing, talking, various
games and a fire burning the chilly desert night air away.
I was intrigued to be joining the others soon but knew I
needed some rest mentally and physically. My travel companion and I left for
the neighboring hostel. We were able to move into the main house the next day
and I realized that perspectives can change quickly. Ours related to space. We
compared notes. She was now in one of the multiple occupant rooms and I was in
a four-bunk bed one with just 3 other people. Just 3?! I very much appreciated
this space following the limited room we were in the night before. She seemed settled
as well.
My 4-person room included the close friend I had chatted
with the night before. Various roommates stayed there and traveled on. My good
friend left. (We would meet up later). Then, it was my turn to leave for a new
journey. I sometimes forget about being wonderfully thrown off. Routines are necessary
to a point but sharing this here is a reminder that I should likewise take on
the disruptions. My renewal passport arrived just this past Tuesday and I’ve
got some work to do.
