I like how rare this is. We only get one leap day every four years, and I am reminded I have reignited the plunge I sparked in 2010. I am reminded I have the capacity to do what is unique and strange again. Like many friends (bus, train and flight-bound), I have been nervous along the way but as I noted: My expectations and inspiration far outweigh any doubt I easily identify as a potential obstacle growing into regret.
Everyday, I am reminded I am different in a country not my own. In the country that was my own, the difference began to meet rejection early on. Fair moments, revelations and acceptance could do their work, yet fall short of those experiences which shape our formative years.
Now abroad in Mexico, somehow, the difference seems more welcome, reminding me of affectionate conversations and quality time I had during Pisco Sin Fronteras (Pisco Without Borders). Looking very different from the other Westerners that went to Peru to volunteer then, I wanted to be a part of improving infrastructure after a natural disaster and be someone who shared experiences with people who worked along with us and could face the same judgments I could.
As I wrote of a new life that is healing to me, I sometimes feel like a casual liaison between home and new international places who can be friendly and say a lot or not much at all. I get to be a person who is free, friendly, pensive, outgoing and reserved.
I am consistently aware of how different I am. Only this time, the difference isn’t as daunting as having to be in a space where I could be instantly judged poorly on any micro or macro level or feel expected to represent a variety of people despite my own independent ideas and presence.
This time, being as different as I naturally am feels welcomed abroad by local people, new residents and other visitors like me. Affection and innocent curiosity is exchanged for the microscope (though this can still appear). The boxes to be fitted in don’t remain so close as they used to be. Many of us have already chosen something so left of the norm. Abnormal becomes the usual.
I know there is no perfection. I know both being welcomed and unwelcomed exist in all our spaces, but there is such a stark contrast between first worrying I could easily not find homes away from my native home yet managing to stumble upon comfort again and again.
I am in the Politics and Prose bookstore, in my now DC neighborhood and I wander to the back wall of the travel section.
The last time I was there, I picked up the Lonely Planet edition of Cuba, a book showcasing the off-the beaten-path places to see in the country which still are noted accordingly, and the ones which are not because of the ironic knowledge. Still I like both the tried and true and the little known.
Going back to the office was challenging after 10 days in Cuba, however this was never so real as how I felt after living in Peru and Bolivia.
Not being ready to be back in the US and facing off with the reverse culture shock I had been forewarned about, I realized I could temporarily transition back by staying in a traveler’s hostel before securing another DC apartment. I would also continue my search for desired NGO and/or development work which I was for now more certain I had the field experience.
Years ago, my horizon had been so broadened that I was ironically too open-minded about my own chances and how people would see me back in the States. The ready circumstances or chances I had to orchestrate the next steps was not how I imagined them to be. Perhaps my heart was just too much abroad. Perhaps, I was unfortunate not to get the chances I needed in time.
I did work. I became ill and after finally getting better in the ER and hospital, I leaned towards what was supposedly stable though dulling to my senses. Unfortunately, the work was similar to what I only wanted to do for a little time when I moved to this area years ago, before doing more with international development. I was at another non-profit trade association and unfortunately, I became skillful at the department in which I worked and my knowledge of the operations as I was inclined to do. I imagine most of us are inclined to master our day-to-day responsibility and what is expected of us, so I became proficient at those operations and once again unfortunately, my tenure geared more towards the inner workings of a trade association. Perhaps in a fortunate way, I had to seek out my own international endeavors and my life still mirrored the experiences I sought out during and after my college years. My friends were international and locally from different backgrounds and I was friends with those who represented the mainstream and my own minority background as well.
Perhaps seeking out my own development work here and disaster relief abroad has molded me into being more appreciative of what I have been able to do and kept me from being burned out. Now I get the chance to select from a second passion and do that as I travel. Still, I recall the confusion of coming back and trying to make everything fit and employers keeping me to the box that I submitted to as well because though the work was something to which I was acclimated and had many perks, this was not my first choice. I dedicated about 15 years to organizations that did not truly speak to me. Thank goodness for travel, cool coworkers, other interests on the side and a willpower, though delayed at times, which will not let go.
I made my way slowly back to the capital of Lima in Peru. I knew I had to be there in time for my return flight to the US. I had extended my stay and booked a later flight. I fully believed the people who warned me I was going to experience a reverse culture shock. I was struck by it during my first layover. I did not know how to describe the feeling that came over me in the East Coast airport, but it enveloped me in its starkness. I knew I was conditioned to being a Westerner and missed certain experiences which were uniquely home, but some roots also took hold of me when I was my in my home away from home. For some time, my native US was a bit overwhelming. While I had missed it, I now missed South America too.
Oh digress. For the time being I was soaking in my last days in Peru, creating my own stresses and enjoying my life too. The battle of human nature. There were still a lot of things I wanted to enjoy and experiences with which I insisted on challenging myself.
I spent quite a lot of my last days in Lima near Surco in an area that was known to be unsafe. For safety sake I take the moment to advise that Miraflores is one of the safest and nicest areas you will want to find yourself in for a quick or long stay. Surco can also be very nice, but some spots came with warnings from local friends and acquaintances.
I was near Surco visiting a friend who I became close to during my stay in the city of Cusco in Peru. She lived in the hostel which was mostly composed of us volunteers doing work at the school for neglected youth. She happened to not be volunteering in Cusco but with her living in the same spot, we became close and bonded even more as I told her the unique experience of where I had been – what it was like to be gritty and real in Pisco. I felt a bit responsible honestly for what turned into the accident she would experience there. She wanted to experience and take part in the organization there in Pisco because of my talk although she may say it was a combination of what others talked about as well and her own interests. She also noted (or maybe others did), her accident which landed her in a hospital in Lima where I coincidentally was able to visit her every day was a result of leisure time on a bar’s weak rooftop. There were a few bars we frequented there. Still, I was sad to see her in a hospital bed unable to walk and going through the process of healing before she would finally be able to do so again.
I was also just happy to see her, glad we were together again, filled with some degree of hopeful relief and remembering how she was with us for some of the time on those 3 am to 6 am outings in Cusco’s Plaza de Armas. That was life then and I never imagined the road she would have taken from there to Pisco and finally to this modern capital city.
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.
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.
Since it has been a while since I landed in Lima, I plan on being a
little confused, but not as nervously confused as I was when I got off the plane
initially. I won’t be as turned around as I was when I got to my one overnight
stay in the capital and affection alone will replace the pleasing confusion of everything
I saw in the volunteer organization yard
my first Friday night.
Prior to my arrival, I took care to take notes from my guide
book on what to expect when traveling around Peru. I smiled through
sections on the lovely cuisines, read about animal diversity, history and
culture. I pictured myself there while looking up additional online resources
and altogether I paired this with tips from my organization on how I should
prepare for living in Pisco and helping with earthquake recovery.
Volunteering and philanthropy have captured my attention for a while. As
a little girl, I was intrigued by the sound bite Literacy Volunteer
commercials. I lent some assistance to a similar organization in college. I
decided to also become one of my school’s conversation language partners. The
program helped international college students adjust to English and US culture.
I moved to DC and taught English one day a week after work, although I didn’t
know I would be comfortable leading a classroom. (Truly, some days were much
better than others.)
In the various forms of connection, I realized, as it is true with everyone,
it’s difficult for anyone to live their goals when faced with a lack of
necessities. We all need help. Moving forward, I have been excited to be in a
number of places but admittedly, I was uncertain about navigating a four-hour bus
ride from the major Peruvian city. With a friend’s crafty suggestion, I went to
my new organization’s Facebook page to ask if anyone would be traveling from
Lima to Pisco on my dates. It was right away that my friend-to-be from Spain
responded, but unfortunately ended up having to postpone his arrival a bit. A
second response followed soon after and another future friend and I soon synchronized
our schedules. She would be traveling from Rhode Island and it seemed now that my
preplanning at home (vaccinations, discussions, readings, etc.) were falling into
place with my plans abroad.
Hiccups would still come, and they are not to be unexpected, but I think
the planning efforts and mental preparation are helpful when it comes to powering
through and you actually already get a sense during those not-so-smooth moments
that you are going to look back on them and laugh. You find yourself even laughing
a little at the time, as in “Is this for real?” and “You gotta be kidding me
right now.” Powering through comes to serve you as you become more confident
about your ability to figure things out. The more you start down that road, the
more you get into the thick of things and the further you move away from the
start line, you kinda already know you most likely are going to cross it. No
matter that it’s not a photo finish.
I had begun with one travel inconvenience at DC’s National Airport. My
luggage had been over the weight restrictions. I was shifting things around and
this could have been pretty standard save for the fact that it was a little
intimidating trying to sift through what was regulation appropriate to carry on
in a limited amount of time. I was additionally internalizing the serious look
on the airline agent’s face. She had read my future return date in a tone and it
was as though I felt she held my security checkpoint fate in her hands. This
could have proved all too much for a newbie international volunteer.
Amazingly, however, a gentleman offered to buy me an extra airline bag as
he simultaneously made the purchase. Such unexpected generosity from a stranger!
Now that I had another spacious piece of luggage to play around in, I thanked
him profusely. He smiled and said, “Maybe she will pay it forward.” The airline
agent smiled at me for what I’m fairly certain was the first time. She echoed
how nice it was and said that I was already paying it forward. Since I had
previously shared my travel purposes, she shared them with him. I was still on my
wow, thank you and seeing that starting out all twisted at the ticket counter
wasn’t an omen after all.
My flight and layover were smooth. Customs through Lima’s airport took
what I expected to be a considerable but standard amount of time. When I
reached the customs official in Lima, I readily answered the length of stay question
for the maximum number of days. He looked up from what I guessed was usually a pretty
mundane question. He seemed intrigued but somehow still robotic. I had chosen
the 183 days that I was permitted to stay continuously. I knew I would actually
stay longer. I would just need to extend my stay by leaving Peru and returning within
the time limit and Bolivia would be my destination for this. Coincidentally, some
wonderful friends ended up being there during that time as well. I had looked
forward to traveling to Bolivia in general and additionally relaying my
experience to my ex back home who also happened to be from there. Having some
volunteer friends (my second family) there made it that much sweeter.
The customs official final response that day? A 183-day passport stamp
and the prediction, “You’ll fall in love.” I was wondering if he meant with a
person or the country. It could have been both.
I’ve revived my knowledge of the Soyuz bus terminal
from which I can select a bus company to take me across 4 cities to reach Pisco.
Lima is the closest major city with an airport and Pisco will be the fourth stop
on the four-hour trip from the Peruvian capital. Another note I recalled
recently is that certain countries require that your passport be 6 months out
following the time of your visit. Seeing that would be exactly a few days after
my plans, I submitted everything I would need for a renewal this past Saturday.
Several entrepreneurs I have been following on YouTube have
been saying – Be afraid and do it anyway. They have been saying it’s okay to fail
as long as you fail forward. You are always learning something about yourself
and others and the varying degrees of adrenaline and exhilaration that you receive
reminds you what matters or perhaps what doesn’t.
Therefore, when faced with everything that continues to show
up as a burning option, I find it best to try on some level even if those tries
are seemingly delayed (weeks or even years later). Success is inevitable in the
very attempt itself, in schooling us on how to prepare, what to do, what not to
do, and what gives us life. This has been true for me in all aspects, even if the
reality doesn’t exactly match the perceived goal.
I believe now that because I took some chances (that may have seemed unnecessary at the time and perhaps some were), I was inadvertently encouraged to keep taking them. This encouragement showed its way through during my first stay in Pisco. I thought volunteering abroad during high school and college was a little too daunting, so I surprised myself that I later picked an organization that would primarily require me to get 3/4ths of the way there on my own.
As I was now settled in, (as much as one can be when she is
far from her traditional creature comforts) and as I was comfortably immersed
with my large volunteer family, I see I still needed some encouraging reminders
here and there. I think everybody can give to anyone and I think everyone that
has helped me or shot me an encouraging word or smile has been just as helpful to
me as hours spent rebuilding, donating or having a heartfelt conversation. This
visit we paid to a wonderful family provided me with some welcome encouragement.
It was a typical hot day in the desert, characterized by a soon
to be typically chilly evening. It was on this night that this family had
especially singled me out and I was in the awe to the extent that it went on. I
heard them ask about me, ask the Director to have me sit with them and while
they were affectionate with the entire team, they were intent on all I had to
share about my simple likes and dislikes. It became so endearing to the point
that it seemed we shared a previous kinship though I was very aware that their particular
building project was one on which I had not worked.
In true, admirable, resilient, and enterprising form, the
family had prepared and was selling a fundraising dinner to which we showed up
to support and enjoy. Throughout my stay in Pisco, I had been working steadily on
other rebuilding projects, (and yes, getting a nice feeling that comes from trying
to help anywhere in any capacity), but as we ventured over, I was imagining engaging
just a bit here and there especially since I had not been a part of this one
and my group was kind of a crowd.
The volunteers that knew them well (since they had built a nice
recreational area there) laughed, joked and showed their love right away. The
other volunteers immediately showed their love as well. We were gathered
around, dishes were being served up, soles (the currency, plural) were being
exchanged. People were play wrestling, playing soccer with the children and the
moments spoke to the roots now implanted in both our own hearts and those of
our now extended Pisqueño families.
I was used to being involved, working, playing, defending
others leading when necessary but, at that age especially, I was oh so ready to
continue my role off the radar. Our hosts disagreed. As I was singled out from
the multitude of other traveled volunteers from a variety of countries. . . as
the family celeb-styled interviewed me and when I thought one was just
hypothetically inquiring about what I like to eat – yet returned with that
specific dish, . . . I was in awe.
Every day meant that I was enjoying myself, feeling rejuvenated,
feeling tired, homesick, intermittingly ill, loved and loving and perhaps they sensed
it. (It had taken me a while to get to this point.) My heart fluttered at the
endearing purposely incorrect experience of them introducing me to additional
family members as “sobrina de Obama”, Obama’s niece (as they knew that I was no
relation.) I answered in Spanish: “I wish! Then I’d be rich.” We laughed and although
I was super proud of the affiliation for a number of reasons, I thought it
would be light hearted and very true to mention this would also mean that I would
have no financial concerns.
I could make it about being underrepresented, when there
just happened to not to be a lot of people like me there at the time. Yet, when
we returned a few months later, others similar to me did not share my specific
experience. I could make it about this or that and the only reason I would even
momentarily search to make it about anything was because of the propensity to
explain things away. Altogether, it was a sweet loving appreciation given to the
team as a whole as well as individualized exchanges. When we had barely returned
a second time, and the smiles widened, and my name was called out, I simply appreciated
it being something I could not easily dismiss.
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.
