The Winding Road to Huanuco

I sit here writing in the warm Huanuco sun, cuddled up against little Oso and watching a sheep wander curiously through the yard, occasionally getting scolded for going in the kitchen. Yes, Huanuco, it’s good to be back.

Birthday girl Karen and her mom, Graciela.

Of course last week started in Callao, finishing up business and celebrating Karen’s 23^rd birthday on Tuesday night (yes, there was cake). But before we knew it, Wednesday was upon us and at 6 a.m. Wilfredo, Rocio (our host sister), Gladys (our host cousin), Katrina and I packed up El Comandante (the car) and began our journey to Huanuco.

Oh Wednesday. Black Wednesday. Wicked Wednesday. Wednesday of Doom. We weaved out of Lima traffic and into the mountains and within an hour I knew: today would not be my day. Vomit number one was orange, liquidy and finished its journey in a Peruvian Airlines bag I stole on our trip to Cusco. I ate some “chifles” or banana chips (don’t worry, they are fried and completely unhealthy) immediately afterwards because if there’s anything worse than losing your lunch in a hot car, it’s not having a lunch to lose and hacking up a mixture of bile, air, salvia and pride. Round two of barf was a lovely banana yellow, chunky and also ended in a Peruvian Airlines bag, this time from our trip to Arequipa.

Creepin´ in the jungle with Rocio. 

Oh? You didn’t want to hear about the vomit? Well then let’s fast forward through the rest of the details from the trip: I vomited again (green, in a bag from the market). Gladys vomited twice.We got pulled over and bribed the police officer with 20 soles. We got stuck in traffic for a half hour for construction. A bus tried to cut us off in said construction and swiped into Wilfredo, which caused lots of yelling in Spanish. Wilfredo tried to pass a truck, miscalculated and took the mirror off the passenger side of the car. 

And finally, after 11 hours in the car with no meal stops, we arrived in Huanuco. Do you understand why I didn’t like Wednesday? Wednesday can go crawl up and die.

The giant yellow mound? Tacacho. 

Naturally after that glamorous adventure, we decided the most logical thing to do was to spend three MORE hours in the car on Thursday, so we headed out to Tingo Maria. The trip was mainly for Gladys and Rocio’s sake, because they´d never been to Huanuco or Tingo before. 

We visited all the touristic spots Katrina and I had visited with Jimmy on our previous trip to Tingo, but the trip was still worthwhile in my opinion. How often do you get to go to the jungle? How often do you get to swim in a sulfur pool? And chiefly, because the fatty inside of me (who you can kind of see from the outside) adores the food in Tingo. They have something called “Tacacho” which is essentially mashed up fried bananas and it’s fantatic. They have all the delicious juice the jungle can offer, including camu camu and cocona. They do pork like no other, and it’s socially acceptable to eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was the perfect way to ensure I didn’t lose a single ounce from barfing my brains out the day before.

We spent a night in Tingo, then headed back to Huanuco late on Friday. Saturday it was time for us to get to business so we visited Melania, Fabrizio’s mom, who now lives in Huanuco. For a recap, Fabrizio is the 7 year old who lived with us last time we were in Huanuco. We chatted with his extended family and Rocio taught a quick bible study. Perhaps my favorite part of this is that the family works in the fireworks industry and during the class they were making elaborate structures that they would later attach explosives to.

Out on a walk with Fabrizio (front) and Eynor. 

Saturday night was Gladys’ turn to teach, so we headed down to Junin (our home away from home in Huanuco) to see some familiar faces, including Grandpa Antonio, Victor (and a few of his six children), Vanessa and Brian-Henry (no matter which name you use for Brian/Henry nobody ever knows who you are talking about, so I call him Brian-Henry.) Things seemed to go well and a few promised their attendance our church service the next day.

We spent Sunday morning enjoying the glory that is Huanuco. Delighting over the family’s new turtle and lamb. Strolling through the countryside with Eynor and Fabrizio. Stuffing ourselves full of Carolina’s cooking. Breathing in air that isn’t so thick with smog that your boogers turn black. Looking at the mountains around us.

Group photo after church on Sunday (art by Jimmy.)

Nightfall brought our church service, which was a lively affair. Eder, who was also visiting from Callao with his new fiancé, MaryCruz, played the guitar and sang, Gladys presided and Rocio preached. A few people from Junin showed up, which gives me some hope for our attendance later this month. We wrapped up the service and bid our farewells to the Callao gang who departed at a chipper 4 a.m. today.

So—we’re here. For the next three weeks we get to enjoy all the pleasures of Huanuco, but also have some business ahead of us. Wilfredo wants us to make regular home visits and focus on growing the church while we’re here. And, as always, we’ll have our English classes and church services. We’ve got our work cut out for us; and, of course, during our downtime we’ll spent ample amounts of time with Oso, Lucky and the ever famous Mojada (these are the names of dogs, people.) With that said, I shall now end this blog and begin examining Oso´s ears to remove all of the garrapatas (ticks) within them  #glamorous. Until next time!

Exploring Lima: Barranco, Pachacamac & Santa Rosa

After Katrina and I’s adventures in southern Peru we’ve set a goal: to get to know Lima better.

Now, I know it sounds ridiculous that we haven’t explored Lima much, but allow me to explain: there are 43 districts that make up Lima. Six of them are in Callao, which is where we live. The other 37 are further away. So this week, we loaded up El Comandante (Wilfredo’s car) and visited three other districts: Barranco, Pachacamac and Santa Rosa.  

 In Barranco with Rocio & Karen

First stop: Barranco. Barranco is said to be the most romantic and bohemian area in Lima and indeed, it does have some little treasures. I especially liked an outdoor piano we found, bathed in bright yellow paint with a sign reading, “I’m yours, play me.” There are a few big churches, flowers and parks, and a beautiful walkway on the cliffs over the Pacific Ocean.

Our main appeal for going to Barranco was to see the Bridge of Sighs. Tradition says if you can cross the bridge without breathing, a wish will come true. The trick ONLY works for the very first time you cross the bridge. We didn’t know this trick, so naturally, we breathed a lot on the bridge, and thus sighed our wishes away. Rats.  

After checking out the bridge (which in all honesty, isn’t quite what it used to be—it’s just a normal short, wooden walking bridge now), we went to get some Peruvian BBQ or “Parrilladas.” Peruvian BBQ doesn’t lay on the BBQ sauce like in the States, but instead focuses on a nice smokey flavor, some “aji” or chili pepper sauce, and a variety of meat. Like seriously, a variety: we ate everything from hot dog to chicken to cow heart, stomach and intestine.

Cow intestine anyone? What about cow heart?  

Next stop: Pachacamac and the pre-Incan and Incan ruins there. I have to say, touring in Arequipa, Puno, Cusco and Iquitos have made Katrina and I wickedly spoiled, because we’ve become accustomed to having an informed guide and a small group. Seriously, when we toured the ruins of Sillustani in Puno, Katrina and I had our own private guide. So, wandering around Pachacamac guide-less, we felt a little naked; however, while the ruins are no Machu Picchu, they’re still interesting. The Incas love their sun temples, and El Templo del Sol in Pachacamac overlooks the Pacific ocean and is breathtaking.

Other than that, honestly, the ruins of Pachacamac are a work in progress. Only recently did the government make moves to restore and protect the ruins, and tourism there is pretty new. You can’t get too close to the ruins, there aren’t very many informative signs or guides available, and nearly everything is undergoing intense restoration. Seeing the workers rebuilding things takes some of the wonder and mystery out of the site. For now, Pachacamac was a worthwhile visit and interesting; in 20 years, I think it will be a must-see and dare I say, fascinating. “Poco a poco” the ruins will get there.

The Incan Sun Temple at Pachacamac. 

Our final adventure for the week was to the beaches in Santa Rosa. We’ve actually been to Santa Rosa before for Dia de la Playa, but it was nice to go there this time for fun rather than business. We played a little volleyball, snacked, gossiped and got to enjoy the Pacific Ocean, probably for the last time before we leave Peru (it’s fall here and winter is coming.) We frolicked about in the waves for more than an hour, and perhaps my favorite part of the experience was all the “pejerry” or kingfish. We showed up just when the fish we’re moving towards the shore and Katrina and I shrieked and jumped about as dozens of little fish slammed into us, leaped out of the water towards us and slapped their tails against our legs. I have seriously never been in water so full of fish. Watching each other shriek and jump about was probably my highlight of the day.

Friday it was back to business as we prepared our Holy Week and Easter celebrations. We kicked things off Friday in Monte Sion with a movie called El Perdon. I had assumed it would be a very Passion of the Christ like, since Friday is the day of the crucifixion, so I was mildly horrified when I saw that we had about 30 attendees, all under the age of 12. Luckily the movie was nothing of the sort; still nothing the children were overly interested in, but with far less gore.

Little Melissa on the beach in Santa Rosa. 

Saturday in Monte Sion we kicked things off by decorating Easter eggs. Let me pause here to explain that American-Easter isn’t a thing in Peru; they don’t decorate eggs or understand why Americans represent a man being brutally murdered by a giant rabbit that inexplicably brings chocolate eggs. Regardless, some of our host family thought it would be cute to incorporate a little of American culture into the church festivities, so we boiled eggs, then decorated them with colored pencils, since there is no food coloring to be found here.

After that, we jumped into a really nice service, with an assortment of short testimonies, crucifixion clips, and a short sermon by Jhonny. While attendance has been lack-luster in Monte Sion as of late, people came out in force for the holiday; Hermana Maruja’s entire family came, a few other regulars, and excitingly had attendance by a few 17 and 18 year old’s lately—a group I would love for us to reach out to.

After church, we began our 20 hour fast to celebrate Easter (an odd number of hours, I know. It was the first time we’ve tried fasting in Peru, so I guess we’re starting with baby steps.) The idea stemmed from Jhonny, who was probably the most vocal complainer about being hungry and repeatedly asked questions like, “You can eat fruit while you’re fasting, right? No? What about candy?”

Elias with his Easter egg. 

My favorite part of fasting was that it gave us all an excuse to have a big family lunch when it was over. The family flocked to Prudencio’s house where we cooked up chicken, beef, potatoes and corn to celebrate the end of fasting. I love the family dynamic here and how everyone genuinely enjoys being around each other. The afternoon rounded out with a few games of volleyball and the typical doting over Paolo, the only grandchild in the family.

We rounded out the week with another church service, this time in Filideflia, where Marlene preached and Betzabe presided. We ended the service by celebrating Betzabe’s big news: she’s pregnant! The baby wasn’t in the plans, but the family sees it as a blessing and seriously has been 100% supportive. Betzabe and her boyfriend Joseph shared some words, including testimonies that both of them had been told at some point that they had problems with fertility; thus, the coming baby is a miracle in itself.

As for this week, it’s flying. We head out to Huanuco TOMORROW. Katrina and I are frantically washing clothes, packing suitcases and settling all of our Lima-affairs before we leave. This time around we’ll be in Huanuco for just one month, so we have to make every moment count.

So—next time you hear from me, I’ll be a Huanuco internet café, likely with three children I don’t know crowded behind my computer, watching my every move. Until then!  

Arequipa, Cañon de Colca, Puno & Lago Titicaca

I know, I know, I’ve been MIA. Don’t worry here comes a SUPER POST to make up for it. (*Disclaimer: Super Post does not ensure that the quality of the post is higher, simply that it is obnoxiously long.)  

Arequipa: You can see why it's called "The White City."

So—our grand adventure started Tuesday, April 1 when we caught a combi to the airport. We flew out to Arequipa knowing only one thing: the address of a $6.50 a night hostel we wanted to stay in.

You see, this time around, we’d made a point not to plan anything before we went. I don’t know much about tours in other countries, but in Peru, everyone says it’s cheaper to plan things as you go. It’s a liberating approach to travel, but it can also be a little unsettling to buy a roundtrip ticket for ten days and have no idea how you’re going to spend them. Regardless, the “fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants” approach was our game plan, and I’m going to go ahead and call it a success.

El Misti, Arequipa's famous volcano. 

So—we flew into Arequipa and landed five minutes after the 8.2 earthquake in Northern Chili. Northern Chili and southern Peru (aka Arequipa) are both hot spots on the Ring of Fire where they Nazca plate collides with the South American plate. We’ve felt two earthquakes in Lima, and really, the whole country of Peru is quite accustomed to a few “temblores” here and there, but when you talk about major earthquakes, Arequipa is usually the region in question. Because of this, Arequipa is “bien preparada”—they all know when to evacuate, all of the buildings have thick walls and archways for support and a majority of the city is made out of a porrus, volcanic rock called white sillar; in fact, Arequipa is often called “The White City” because of all the white sillar used in its construction. So, we landed to a very peaceful airport and our cab driver subtly mentioned to us that there had been an earthquake just before arrived, as if he was talking about a spring shower.

Trying rocoto relleno (Arequipa style.)

The next morning we set about exploring Arequipa. On a whim, we hopped a tour bus that took us to lookout points of the city. The department of Arequipa is famous for its mountains and volcanoes, and we got a good look the three that surround the city: Misti, Pikchu Pikchu and Chachani. After our tour wrapped up, we had to eat the traditional Arequipena dish: rocoto relleno. Rocoto relleno is said to have originated from Arequipa and, naturally, they claim to make it better than everyone else in Peru. It’s a rocoto pepper, stuffed with beef and melted cheese, and served with potatoes and a creamy sauce. The verdict: delicious.

A condor in Colca Canyon. 

From there, we decided to slightly dismantle the spontaneity of our trip by booking a few trips: a three day trek in Colca Canyon, two days in Puno and one night on Amantani, an island in Lake Titicaca. I know, I know—it wasn’t very Peruvian of us to book tours. But our host family told us time and time again to read the story of Ciro Castillo, a guy that got lost and died in Colca Canyon… and that kind of made us value the benefit of having a guide.

So—we headed out to Colca Canyon at a chipper 3:30 a.m. with our guide, Roy, two girls from Holland, Yvonne and Nicole, and a man from Greece, Lazaros. Riding in the darkness through the altitudes and mountain roads, it took me about 20 minutes to get motion sickness, but I’m proud to say I held out for about three hours before barfing into a plastic sack. From that point on, our guide called me “Princess” and made me sit next to him in the front seat of the car. I am the soon-to-be Queen of Vomit!

Anyway—we stopped at a number of interesting places along the way to the canyon, including a lookout point called in Cabanaconde called Cruz del Condor. Condors are a big deal in Peru and were a major symbol of the Incas (along with the puma and snake.) Condors are huge and their wingspan is supposed to be over 3m—so it was wonderful to finally to see them in action.

Colca Conquered: Lazaros, Nicole, Ynonne, Roy, Katrina & I.  

After condor watching, we began our first day of trekking, 8K, all downhill into Colca Canyon. Colca Canyon is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. Unlike the Grand Canyon, people still live there and it’s not uncommon to see children running down the hiking trails, or mules carrying supplies to a village.

Our trek was slow and steady and I’m slightly ashamed to say my wish was granted; before we left for the canyon I told Katrina that I was really hoping we’d have someone slower than me in our group. Turns out Lazaros from Greece is 60 and has a pacemaker. So kudos to Lazaros for still doing the trek, and yay for me for being SECOND to last!

We stayed at a cute little cabin our first night in the canyon, then headed out the next morning for a 6K trek to an area called, “The Oasis.” The Oasis is incredibly fertile ground that is a bit of a mystery to the canyon. Our guide Roy said it’s speculated that a long time ago, people spent nearly two years bringing the fertile earth into the canyon. The area was full of flowers and fruit trees, but perhaps the best part was that there was a POOL down there—so I got to swim in a pool in the bottom of the canyon.  

We spent the night in The Oasis, then day three of trekking was completely uphill—6K up and out of the canyon. We’d been told the trek was hard, so were slightly horrified starting out, but within two and a half hours nearly our entire group had made it out of the canyon. After we had a nice breakfast in Chivay, we headed back to Arequipa (and I’m proud to report that the Princess of Barf did not vomit on the ride home.)

The Oasis: Complete with swimming pool! 

After braving the canyon, we had a night in Arequipa to recover our strength, then hopped a bus to Puno the next morning. The bus ride was six hours, a length we’ve become somewhat accustomed to, and I’m happy to report it didn’t have many twists or turns. Once we got into Puno we found the hotel our tourist agency had booked—which ended up being a four star hotel that completely blew our minds. We’ve become accustomed to having unreliable hot water, no toilet paper in the bathrooms and one lumpy pillow everywhere we go. Here we had a pillows on pillows on pillows, a heater AND a bathtub. It was ridiculously fantastic.

The next day we were off to Lake Titicaca. Lake Titicaca is shared between Peru and Boliva (60% is Peruvian) and is the highest navigable lake in the world.  Five major rivers feed into the lake and it’s right on the edge of the Andes, so some of the islands in the lake end up being over 4,000m above sea level. The lake has been home to a number of groups over the years, so it’s full of three different languages: Aimara (more common on the Bolivian side), Quechua (the language of the Incas) and Spanish.

Elsa lives on Los Uros and gave us a tour of her house.

On Lake Titicaca we visited three islands: Los Uros, Amantaní and Tequile. Los Uros is a group of about 40 artificial islands made of floating reeds. When the Spanish came to Puno, the indigenous fled to the lake to get away… and never left. They originally fled in boats, but after some time were able to make islands out of the roots and reeds found in the lake. While Los Uros is a bit of a tourist trap today, it was still fascinating. You can jump on the reeds of the island and feel their natural spring and visit all the little houses that use solar energy to power their light and televisions (yes, televisions.)

After leaving Uros, we headed to the island Amantaní, where we stayed the night with our host mom Luisa and her family. Two other Americans, Jo and Amanda, who were backing packing solo through Peru, ended up staying the night there with us. We spent a little time hiking to the temple of Pachatata (Father Earth) but the highlight of the night was a celebration we had in a community center where all the tourists sported the traditional garb and danced to a rowdy (and probably slightly intoxicated) band of locals.

Jo, Amanda, myself and Katrina dancing on Amantani. 

The next morning we headed out to our last island of the trip, Taquile. Like Uros, Taquile was full of solar panels, but other than that it was stepped in tradition. Many of the people on the island seemed to live off the land and the men had a tradition of sewing beautiful hats. For lunch, we had the best trout I've ever eaten in my life there, then made our journey back to Puno.

Returning from Lake Titicaca marked the last of Katrina and I’s planned events, so from there we had a little more spontaneity. We opted to tour a place called Sillustani near Puno, which is both an Incan and pre-Incan burial ground. After coming back from that, we made a point to try chuño (freeze dried, old potatoes) which are surprisingly better than they sound.

Katrina trying Chuno Negro in Puno.

After that we bussed back to Arequipa, and spent the day milling around the city, eating a couple more typical foods including, Ocopa Arequipeña (potatoes in a spicy, peanut sauce), Queso Helado (ice cream in the shape of cheese) and some locally grown chocolate.
Arequipa is also known for its churches, so we were sure to tour the main cathedral, Basílica Catedral de Arequipa, which has stood the test of time against earthquakes, and Santa Catalina Monastery. I know a monastery doesn’t sound like the sexiest thing to take a tour of, but it was fascinating. Santa Catalina isn’t your traditional monastery; the nuns all lived in separate houses along little streets with red painted walls and heavy Spanish influence. After one last stroll around the city, we reluctantly trekked back to the airport to catch our flight back to Callao.

Ringing church bells in Arequipa. 

Overall our trip was fantastic—it wasn’t your typical touristy vacation of Peru; obviously the hot spots here are Machu Picchu and the Amazon. But, I feel like we got to know a whole new side of Peru and we learned a lot more about Peruvian culture. For example, our guide in Colca Canyon, Roy, went on and on about how he isn’t Peruvian, he’s “Arequipeño.” The people of Arequipa are incredibly proud and, frankly, consider themselves above Peruvians. Arequipa is an affluent department in Peru and they value tradition, character and loyalty. The have their own flag, anthem, coat of arms—they even have their own beer. They also adamantly state that their Spanish is more pure and beautiful than the Spanish spoken in Lima (and both of those dialects of Spanish are a lot prettier than the mess of Spanish that I speak.)

As for Puno—I loved that part of our trip as well, and again, Puno seems to have its own interesting culture. The belief in Pachatata and Pachamama (Mother and Father Earth) are super popular in Southern Peru and I find it fascinating. Puno has its own array of traditional food and my personal favorite is the tea, Mate de Muña. While on Amantaní, Luisa would seriously walk outside, pull some muña leaves out of her backyard and throw them in a cup of hot water for us; it's the best tea I’ve ever had (take THAT Teavana.)

So—in retrospect, I love southern Peru, and I’m sad to say we don’t have any more trips planned to visit there. As for now, we’re back in Callao and Katrina and I have made a mission to get to know Lima a little better. Now that we’ve learned so much about Southern Peru, it’s high time we learn a little more about our stomping grounds in Lima.

 So—for those adventures, and for another post about how CHURCH was last weekend—stay posted to the blog. I’ve got another entry coming your way this week! 

Riding the Waves

Last Tuesday, I had a realization: come July, we REALLY are leaving Peru. Come July, our lives are going to change.

What brought on this realization? A job offer. Tuesday in a whirlwind of events, my job search was finally over. After nearly 30 applications, several interviews and, admittedly, a little bit of insecurity, I was offered a high school Communication Arts position in the Kansas City metro. And I accepted. I don’t want to elaborate on this too much since, after all, the blog is about my adventures in PERU—but I will say I’m incredibly thankful for this opportunity and I’m excited to start the next chapter of my life.

We came, we saw, we ate seawater... we conquered? 

That being said—for the time being we ARE still in Peru. So, last week we checked something off my bucket list: surfing. Katrina and I trekked to Miraflores, put on the ever attractive wet suits, got a crash course in about 10 minutes of Surfing 101 and hit the waves.

What I immediately discovered is that attacking waves with a surfboard makes your stomach churn. Katrina doesn’t get motion sickness, but by the time we paddled out to the place where you can actually start surfing we both looked at each other with slightly green faces. From there, came the surfing attempts.

Surfing is said to be no joke—a workout—and it lives up to its reputation. Luckily, the Lima coastline has forgiving baby waves, which were perfect for us beginners. We came, we stood up, we wobbled, we fell. And it was completely fantastic.

After about twenty minutes was the first time we got “Prudencioed.” Allow me to explain. Prudencio is a member of our congregation who is the most fearless man I have ever met. Prudencio doesn’t know how to swim, but naturally, this doesn’t stop him from entering the water. So, during Dia de la Playa, Prudencio would swim out, wait for a gigantic wave, then get completely annihilated by it. The water would grab him, throw him to the ground and drag him along the ocean floor until it receded just enough for him to pop his head out again. He’d shake his head, get up, and walk out for more. It was an ocean smack down, and the water won every battle. Prudencio absolutely loved it.  

We'd usually catch the waves at the end of this boardwalk. 

Thus we have the verb of getting “Prudencioed.” The first time it happened our instructor said, “Hang on to your boards!” We had just enough time to turn around and see the imminent beating coming our way. Your body is thrown from your board like a rag doll, then you’re slapped around under the water, uncontrollably thrashing about, your head going left, your butt going right and somehow your feet are pointed upwards—or downward? You’re unsure of which way is up. By the time it’s over, you flail about to reach the surface and emerge disoriented and thankful that your board is tied to your foot. Each time you get Prudencioed, you swallow about a cup and a half of saltwater—and not all of it is taken in through your mouth.

After a few rounds of this, I had about 5 cups of saltwater in my belly, and that was when I had the horrifying realization that I was about to feed the fishes. My stomach lurched and I choked back the delightful taste of stomach acid. I flopped on my board lifelessly, waiting for the vomit to come. And at that point, my instructor and I determined that perhaps it was best to return to the shore—and so we did. So…my hour long lesson was about 40 minutes long—but it was still fantastic, and I still want to try it again. I’m no professional, in fact, I have the grace of a newborn deer—but it was still delightful, and I’m just glad I was able to fully stand up for a few seconds. And if we go surfing again, I’m taking two Dramamine instead of just one.

A visit with Lela and Virgilio for coffee and conversation. 

After surfing, Katrina and I dizzily walked around Miraflores, burping up seawater and waiting for our stomach to settle enough to hop a combi back to Callao. Once we got back (and napped off our dizziness) we popped some popcorn and had a movie night with our host sisters and host cousins. It’s the simple moments like this, just watching a movie, that we know we need to do more and more as our days tick away, to soak in as much time with our Peruvian family as possible.

The rest of the week slipped by as usual. Friday night Katrina taught a class on presiding in Monte Sion and helped people build their first service. Saturday was my turn to preside and I put some of those plans into motion. Somehow, in my eight months here, presiding is still not an art I’ve fully mastered. I don’t know if it’s all in my head, if it’s the language barrier, or it’s simply a series of unfortunate events, but I’ve yet to walk away from a service I’ve built and thought: yes, I nailed that.  

Sunday, my class on Lecto Divina was a bit lackluster as well. People seemed confused as to why I was teaching something “Catholic” and why we had to read the scripture and meditate so many times. The class flopping was a bit of a bummer, considering I’d just been hired as a TEACHER, but you win some and you lose some—and when you lose you learn how to get better.

Gladys sharing a few words. 

After church, we had a surprise party celebrating Gladys graduation from college. I’d been expecting that we’d just hand her some balloons and clap—Gladys has been playing the whole ordeal fairly low key. However, as soon as they pulled out her balloons the waterworks started from all around. People stood up and gave passionate testimonies. Turns out that Gladys mother died right when she was about to start college. The family came together after her death to help Gladys pay for college. Her graduation now is a tribute to her mother. Gladys made a point to say that her graduating isn’t just the fulfillment of her dream, but the dreams of everyone in that room. The night became a passionate celebration, complete with sandwiches, pop, and, of course, cake.  

And it’s on that note that we rounded up our week. Katrina and I are in a frantic rush today—withdrawing money, converting it to Soles, packing our bags, etc. because we are headed out to Arequipa TONIGHT! After a week where I wasn’t impressed with my presiding and teaching, it’s good to get a little bit of time away to relax and regroup. We’ll be in Arequipa for 10 days, so I don’t know when my next full blog post will be—put I’ll try to post some pictures on the road. Until then!