These March blogs come as a substitute for what I was originally going to present because I’m now working on an older computer (thankful for it, mind you!) while the laptop with all my notes for blogs and writing-inspired moments in general were saved on the aforementioned laptop in dire need of a charger replacement.
The charger needing to be replaced is almost comical in a series of ups and downs I have experienced while attempting to be an organized digital nomad, but truly it’s also another source of frustration or rather a reminder of frustrations and workarounds.
Not wanting to reorder a replacement card from one bank while I was in San Juan and just happening to lose it did not seem like such a big deal (I had my reasons). I thought it would be such a hassle not to have access to it and just came to rely on a second one for all things: payment, withdrawals, etc. That was all fine and good until I attempted to do a mobile deposit but then suddenly, the powers that be of the other bank decides, nope, we are just going to close this account altogether due to “suspicious activities” (Luckily I am now skilled at sending myself money).
It is no joke that as a long-term traveler, one can definitely be hit with the workarounds, so amongst all the pretty pictures and all the ups, there is also the not-so stellar heavy-bag-toting, sweating, thirsty, muscle-aching days.
Therefore, bear with me people. Love you and love that you have been sticking with me through it all, even when it was just a dream of revisiting Peru for a third time.
I will be writing another March happenstance post very soon, again – not what I planned…. But so much of what I had is unplanning itself …. Sometimes even surprisingly well. Self-guided cash pickups. Who knew? Thankfully. You.
The attention on my way to the Cuban restaurant on a recent Friday night reminded me of the feeling of casually going out most evenings after volunteering in Cusco, Peru. At the time, the crew was now my three or four closest comrades (being that I had left the scores of volunteer friends in Pisco). We would regularly go the bars and clubs on Cusco’s plaza every night and stay out anywhere between about 3 to 6 am. There were some quieter evenings inside watching a movie, chatting or simply eating out but we most casually spent nights chilling and or dancing to deejays or live music at La Lek, Mama Africa or some other bar/club in the Plaza de Armas (quite different and reminiscent of the other Plaza de Armas – other main squares in L. America). This was easily our stomping ground between volunteering and touring the city.
Only in those cases, (different from this recent November chilly night), imagine replacing the guy on the bus (who had a nice Jamaican accent) with guys from Argentina and Chile who regularly pass through Peru on their “holiday”. Interesting how something unique can become interestingly common. It would be unusual for us not to get approached by a couple of guys from these regions at least a few times an evening or night and the nice thing about traveling to one place is getting even more exposure to other places from visitors outside the current country you’re in and your own. That was Cusco on any night. We had a lot of wandering aspirations in common with our sometimes dance partners or just fellow tourists – and some interesting ideas not so in common.
There was one guy I particularly liked. Now it seems like a lifetime ago. Some moments stick and some people leave quite the impression.
Getting out recently was a reminder of life to come. With my new work arrangement, I am also not on the subway or bus as much – so getting there was more a reminder of the nice convenience more than the necessary part of my life it was to get to my old job. After chatting with another guy (very young), who wanted my number and finally catching up with a friend over good drinks and food, I am ready for the randomness plus camaraderie. After safely getting use to a life a lockdown, it is nice to be back in the midst of people, enjoying good company and diverse cuisines. Dancing is the probably the last thing missing, (at least for now), the familiarity of taking music back from just workouts. Life is promising again, as it always can be with new seasons or just new days. I am reawakening to some potential I had to put on hold.
Similar to very recently quitting my job, I was more excited about my first lone trip abroad than I could ever be nervous. Yet, I still had my moments of understanding why some people could be concerned. Traveling to a remote area especially posed a case for the nerves.
I did it anyway. I knew I would soon be with a concentrated group of very like-minded people, but first I had to get there.
I was “in between jobs”, back then, as they say. This was tough but I got the sense of a silver lining right away. After the governing board decided to downsize the entire staff, there was a mixture of fluid emotions and throughout the transitioning period, I was excited and weary.
I had just joined the company in 2009 and it was very soon a sinking ship. They or rather we were in the red.
Our entire staff only added up to about 7 and being let go by the board members’ vote was a bit of a relief. The news was still shocking in a way because we each had nice and or/friendly relations with most of them, but I believe it was the head and a majority-shifted decision combined with a presentation by the management company taking over.
So, with our discouragement, we collectively bonded over not one of us being left on staff and how we were then thrown back into the interview pool. This included the CEO. We also bonded over the strangeness of informing the new management corporation on all our processes. The board decided it would be better to let the new company take over from here. It would most likely help them continue to operate. One major note: They would have no employee benefits to count as their expenses.
I could not help the irritation on some days. However, staying upset is hard when you are making lemonade. I could now take this opportunity to travel without the background thoughts of when it would be appropriate to take some time off. I set the wheel in motion by doing my basic research and outlining my objectives from A to Z. I primarily sought what would be the right organization for both me and the individuals with whom I was going to volunteer.
Had these circumstances not played out, I do not know if I would have finally realized my goal of volunteering abroad for an extended period of time. Otherwise, I would have been working to plan it around my vacations and other PTO. I also would have had the guilt and overriding thoughts of what I needed to get done once I returned to work. I think work and being away can be done, depending on the circumstances but my thinking then would have caused me to put myself second to any job I had. (I ended up with a temp assignment before I left but I was adamant about them not taking me on full time. I sensed I would get deterred.)
Coincidentally, there was an international volunteer organization fair sponsored by Google and Idealist.org. (my favorite back-in-the-day job search engine). I found an event like this in DC not to be too surprising, but I did find the timing to be quite serendipitous.
I took some steps forward. I took a few steps back.
The event was another rollercoaster. I primarily saw my dream as being too pricey. Most of the presenting organizations had astronomical fees for even the shortest stint of time. A lot of them additionally did not connect with what I sought to be doing abroad.
I fake gave up for a while – that feeling of “oh no, this is never going to happen”. Still, there is this vision of revisiting thoughts … sooner if not later. I proceeded to become proactive because of my disappointment. The result was a determination to prove my outlook false.
I wish I could remember exactly (so I could give due credit) how I finally rabbit-holed my way down to a site for inexpensive and/or free volunteer opportunities in Latin America.
Perhaps It may have just been Google itself circling back around to rescue me from my growing doubts. On a grand scale, I was left daunting but now here I was more plugged into my search. The site, volunteersouthamerica.net was broken down by Spanish-speaking regions and countries and I hovered over several until I knew I found my second home in Pisco, Peru.The organization’s website led me to more about their objectives and feedback and a video from very real volunteers. I laughed at the humor they shared together and was heartened seeing them work with the community. The organization still meant I would have my weekly costs, but in a way which made much more sense to me then: Roughing it and being very grass roots.
Currently seeing how my former co-volunteers move about the world and still being close to some of the city’s residents reiterates how right I was to select this place.
There was more to do elsewhere, but for the moment, Pisco was going to be my home away for as long as I was able to stay.
Participating in disaster relief recovery was a pivotal decision. I needed one change like my job situation to get me thinking about my real goals. I like to remind myself of missed opportunities and ones I have been fortunate to take advantage of like living in Pisco. I like to reminisce over what taking a leap feels like and imagine how nice it will be to continue again.
Unfortunately, in Puerto Rico, the coordinator of my specific
project was not feeling well, but I was pleased they found a spot for me the
next day. This allowed me to do some light organizing in the overall project’s office
and get a vacation I didn’t realize I needed. At the same time, I had the
chance to connect with folks, (volunteering, working, or traveling through) who
reaffirmed a lot of the things that make me smile the most.
Another new volunteer for the week and I received our orientation on Monday and since it was a holiday, our volunteer lead in Puerto Rico came to the hostel to take us to our project site and then on to Old San Juan for touring. Us IVHQnewbies (yet respectively seasoned volunteers) both agreed we didn’t need to get out at the building at which we’d be returning the next day, but rather the Uber driver could continue on to the next spot in Old San Juan. (Funny, because we would still get a little lost the next day😊)
In and around San Juan – home and back
Leaving the Uber, (we weren’t able to get the bus on Monday, other days proved more successful), we stopped to sight see – we were taken to one of the famous old Spanish forts. The nice fusion of being an IVHQ volunteer: getting to know the people and experience the culture of an area in different aspects and getting to help in a variety of ways.
I turned up in San Juan on a Sunday afternoon when there was no running water. Pure coincidence and it made me oddly nostalgic for the days we ran out of water in Pisco, Peru. There I would have helped get a few buckets from the ocean for temporary-around-the-house-use… maybe… well okay I did that once – but after a long day of toiling away on other projects, I may have simply been thankful to the ones who did gather our water together😊 on those various other days (while I was quite focused on dinner. 😊 (By the way, the water in San Juan was back the next day.)
The driver, from my organization, IVHQ (International Volunteer Headquarters),
met me at San Juan International airport on November 10th and he was
quite interesting to chat with, giving me a rundown on the neighborhood in
which I’d be staying. You may have read my post, Organize Me, in which
I was very grateful to IVHQ for getting my details squared away. I helped
– but mostly when it came to volunteer placement, lodging, sight-seeing options
and intel, they took care of it – at a time when I was inundated with my daytime
job, my side hustle and non-side hustle activities. For this reason, however, I
did not exactly research where I would be living.
I was in for a pleasant surprise, opening me up to more spontaneity, hence my reference in a Time to Think about being more aware of when you’re in alignment, when you’re not necessarily forcing but rather flowing forward. As Oprah and others tell me in The Path Made Clear, things become serendipitous and synchronistic when you move towards what is calling or (or let’s be real, when you do what the hell you want in the most positive way, doing right by others and yourself and following the mutually inclusive golden rule) That was what was so nice about being in Puerto Rico in November, returning to Pisco this past February, and being in Pisco for the first time almost 10 years ago. It’s impossible to get everything right, but so worth the effort and God love the imperfections.
Unlike the communal lodging inPSF that housed about 40 to 110 volunteers at a time (which was perfectly holistic for then), my driver was escorting me into a hostel with a mix of travelers, volunteers and visitors that would enhance my week-long volunteer getaway. I didn’t realize how much I would be getting back as well. The hostel was high level (I’ve stayed in many hostels before and Nomada (pictured above) was precious, cozy and at the same time spacious. They thought of everything. I was on my top bunk one night, realizing I didn’t have to want for anything. There was the personal lighting, charging stations, there was the rooftop, with a view of the ocean we visited several times, there was the so cute eclectic communal areas, respectively equipped with bars and ultimately there was the staff who ensured we were in the know when it came to which places we should venture to on any particular day or night. Well organized and beyond nice.
I’m happy IVHQ partnered with them in this way for PR and I was there at just the right time to add the right people to my list of kindred spirits. Like Peru, I had the pleasure of meeting travelers who I suspect rep their respective homelands the best and though we differ in cultures, we always find we have so many cool things in common – that’s especially for Canada, Holland, France and Germany. Good times. I was gifted once again on my last day when my very good friend from DC joined me there. Having home when you’re away is always nice, especially when he is helping you paint the town as red as it can get before your 2:01 a.m. flight. Thanks to him so much, for spending some of my accidental vacation time with me. (The week away was a coincidentally welcome needed adventure, rest and chance to help out).
Thus far, I wouldn’t trade any of my experiences for the world. I’m dazzled by the thought there may be more to come. I’m kinda extremely fortunate, whether I’m around the world with good folks with good vibes, here in DC with local friends, in Ohio with hilarious loving brothers más my nephew or in all the cities I hope to see next.
You may
always go home again. Yes. Despite the near contrary expression, I believe this
to be true. Whether it be your home away from home, where you were born and
raised, or just where you feel most yourself.
9 years
after volunteering in Pisco, Peru, I was there again and welcomed with
open arms by people I knew and to whom I’ve remained connected. I was welcomed
by new “curious friendly” * stares as well. Truthfully, the latter was just as reminiscent
of the comfort I found my first time in South America overall. I won’t say all is
rosy, but the overwhelming majority of experiences are very receptive ones.
As I also
travel back to Ohio to visit, I know going home to family is solely being wherever
they have landed. You can always go home to family, to the loved ones that love
you, no matter where they may be. The affection is multiplied by my brothers’ welcomes
and from the extended family through them.
Changes, in my perspective, only reside in how we should grow. We should not want to be the same. We should want every day to be wiser and more comfortable in our own skin, but we can also know the significance of homes as foundations that can help us grow. Also, true for our passions. We can tell where we feel the most at home by what makes us come alive. Where we find our heart with people and energy is where we find our home and we should always be traveling there.
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.
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.
