Huayco: A Peruvian word rooted from Quechua meaning "flash flood"

After nearly twelve hours in a car, por fin, we’re back in Callao. Whew. Let’s recap.

A small cemetery we passed on our way to Huanuco. 

Last week started with our usual leadership meeting. For some reason, our leadership meetings have been a bit stale of late. The simplest things, like printing off a schedule to post in the church, becomes a hassle (“Well, we need to rediscuss the print budget before we can do that.”) Discord CAN be a good thing in meetings—it means you’re bringing multiple opinions to the table, a variety of people are invested in what you’re doing etc. But for right now, we haven’t quite found the right way to utilize our discord.

It’s an odd perspective to have, because before I became a World Service Corps volunteer, I never thought much about what the planning aspect of church looks like. I’d never considered how carefully selected each hymn is, how much debate goes into picking a theme for Beach Day or how difficult it can be to select what color you want to paint the church walls; but perhaps that’s a good perspective to have going into these leadership struggles—because nobody goes to church because it got painted “lemon chiffon” instead of “dandelion.” Sometimes it’s helpful just to step back and say Yes, what we’re doing is important—but you’re looking at paint swatches, not dismantling an atomic bomb.  

The one and only Mojada asking for some pets! 

50 shades of yellow aside, most of our week centered around our trip to Huanuco. Friday afternoon, Wilfredo, Katrina, Marlene and I all piled into Wilfredo’s car (“El Commandante”) and settled into the delightful nine hour drive through the mountains. We arrived just after 10 p.m. in Huanuco and as soon as I opened my car door there was little furry blob nipping at my hands and getting mud paws all over my pants: my dear sweet Mojada. In case you need a refresher, Mojada is my favorite dog in Huanuco. She caught distemper about a month before we left last time, and I took her to the vet three times to try to give her her best chance. I had honestly thought she would pass away before I got to see her again—but there she was, still kickin’ and with a renewed sense of energy.

After finally getting into the yard (dragging my left leg behind me, since Mojada was chewing on my pant leg) we had our wonderful reunion with Carolina, Orlando, Jimmy, Tonio and Eynor. The last time we’d seen all of them, we weren’t sure if we’d ever be back again, so it was amazing to just be in each other’s company. Katrina and I settled into our old room and were highly pleased to find out that mosquito season in Huanuco is over (although the bites covered my ankles beg to differ.) We went to bed early and despite the dogs barking, pigs squealing and roosters crowing, and I slept more soundly than I had in a week.

Wilfredo, trying to sweet talk the tickled pig. 

Saturday we woke up early ready for a full day of workshops—kid’s classes, leadership meetings, preaching and presiding classes, etc.; however, we quickly realized that just because we’re in town, doesn’t mean life stops. The family spent the morning working as usually: selling papa rellena, driving the moto taxi, going to classes and building a new chicken coop. We had to scrap our entire morning schedule, which was unfortunate, but gave as a chance to wonder around and take in some fresh air. AND, I finally got to witness the pig phenomenon: if you tickle a pig’s belly, it loses its balance and topples over! It seemed a little mean, so I didn’t try it myself—but it was certainly worth seeing one time.

Saturday afternoon, we managed to squeeze in some of our planned activities. Marlene taught the congregation five or six new songs, Wilfredo held a class about church expansion, and Katrina and I talked about what it’s like to preach and preside. We rounded the day out with a planning meeting, and Katrina and I are officially going back to Huanuco mid-April through mid-May (yayyyyyy!)

Jimmy's painting from our trip to Tingo Maria. 

Sunday, again, we had to scrap the morning plans, but rallied to have a bible study and solid church service. And, to round out the day—Carolina cooked a simply fantastic lunch/dinner of Aji de Gallina, a Peruvian favorite that nobody does better than Carolina.

Overall, despite having to change things, the weekend felt successful. We got to spend quality time with the family and were still able to fit in the most important church activities.  It was especially good to see Jimmy and Tonio. They both work in the medical field and will be travelling for a one year residency as early as April—so we might not get to see them again before the leave. They were as chipper as ever, and Jimmy proudly showed us the huge painting he did of our trip to Tingo Maria together.

Before we knew it, this morning was upon us and it was time to say our goodbyes to the family (and of course, to Mojada) and began our painfully slow trek back to Lima. Here’s the thing about the drive from Lima to Huanuco—it’s through the mountains. There’s only a small stretch of the trip where we’re high up enough to call it being in “the Andes” but I think that sounds really cool, so I like to call the whole thing a drive through the Andes. Anyway, it’s rainy season in Huanuco, which means lots of torrential rain, lots of mud and lots of rock slides.

During our two hour wait for the Huayco to calm down.

Our day was littered with “Huayco” (flash flood) problems. At one point, we were stopped for two hours while huge boulders that crumbled down from surrounding cliffs were removed the road. At another point, truck drivers coached us through a part that still seemed to be crumbling, yelling at us “Fast! Fast!” Wilfredo was constantly on edge, having to swerve around some form of boulders or debris at least once every five minutes. The nine hour drive quickly evolved into nearly twelve hours, and by the time we got home we just wanted to collapse into our beds.

Looking ahead, this should be a pretty basic church week for Katrina and I. We’re hoping to use a little of our free time to plan our final two trips around Peru: 1. Paracas (home of “the poor man’s Galapagos Islands.”) and 2. Lake Titicaca. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Seaweed and a Megaphone: Dia de la Playa en Peru

I sit here still exhausted, a little burnt and my legs rather stiff, but I’m going to go ahead and call the operation a success. Let’s recap.

The beginning of last week felt a little… sludgy. We came back from one of the most amazing weeks of our lives and jumped immediately back into work. The combined effect of leaving the wonder of the jungle and picking up our worries and responsibilities again left us feeling slightly deflated.  

La Playa de Santa Rosa--Great day to be at the beach!

One of those worries was the annual “Dia de la Playa” celebration. Dia de la Playa (Beach Day) is an annual event the congregations in Peru hold to celebrate the anniversary of the church in Peru. Marlene proposed that Katrina and I coordinate it this year, and we happily took up the challenge; however, as the event inched closer and closer, Katrina and I quickly found that not everyone had complete faith in us. Throughout the week we had people repeatedly checking in with us: “Where are the balloons for the games? What about the net? What songs have you picked out? Have you heard from Eder yet?” We repeatedly responded with “tranquila, tranquila” (calm down, calm down) but we couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure to really deliver a solid event.

As occupied as we were with Beach Day, we a few other things on our plates: Katrina was presiding and I was preaching the day before Beach Day in Monte Sion. Preaching is still a lot of work for me (especially because it’s in Spanish) but I have gotten used to speaking in Spanish for over 20 minutes without reading from a paper. My struggle this week was the subject matter: adultery.

Jhonny giving the welcome at our beach service. 

Now—cheating and divorce, unfortunately, are common around the world; however that doesn’t make them any more comfortable to talk about. It was especially difficult in this community, because the heart of the church centers around the nine siblings of the Carlos family. Among the nine siblings, nearly all of them have had problems with infidelity.  The common denominator? The men having mistresses.

I chatted with one of our host cousins, Eder, about it and he told me that the older generation in Peru is dominated by men. We still see pieces of it today: women are always the ones serving, and it’s always the men who are served first. Graciela does all of the cooking and laundry for her only son Jhonnny (who’s 38.) The good news? Things are changing. We see PSAs about domestic abuse on TV all the time here, and I can’t imagine any of the boyfriends our host sisters and cousins have cheating.

All the same, the topic was still uncomfortable to talk about. Eventually, I found my way to address it and I feel like I was able to do both the scripture, and m my own feelings and sentiments justice, without causing a ruckus.

Our theme was "Let's Go Fishing!" so everyone got string to make a net!

After the sermon was over, I could finally focus full heartedly on beach day. In true Carlos family style, we left nearly an hour and half late, piling into a combi that the family had rented. After about an hour of driving we arrived on the beach at Santa Rosa, with the dry, dirt covered mountains behind us, the Pacific stretching out before us and an array of umbrellas all over the beach. I would not be remotely surprised if the skin cancer number in Peru are significantly lower than the numbers in the United States; everyone here was obsessed with staying in the shade and applying sunblock. A cultural thing about Peru is that nobody wants to get darker—the thought of laying out in the sun is unheard of here.

After nearly an hour of finagling with our tent, we finally got things organized and were able to get our service off and running. Marlene whipped out the megaphone so we could hear over the crashing waves and the screams of children playing on the beach, and Katrina had the glorious job of being megaphone holder while people talked. With a few songs from Betzabe and Eder, a short sermon by Mirtha and a few words from the leaders in the congregation, the service ran smoothly and it proved, by the end of it, that there was no reason to worry.

We're a bit toasty, but we're very happy campers. 

After the service the games commenced and one of my students promptly popped a giant orange water balloon all over me. I promised him my revenge, but eventually the ocean beckoned and I forgot about it. Katrina and I spent hours diving through the waves and fighting with the current, just enjoying the simplicity of the ocean. A decent number of Peruvians don’t know how to swim but they’re rather fearless in the water, wading out, getting toppled by a wave, then standing up and asking for more. I started the day on edge, afraid someone would drown, but the Peruvians knew exactly how far to push themselves.

By the time we crawled on the bus home, sandy, salty and burnt, we were exhausted, but completely pleased with how the day went.

As for this week, Friday begins the glorious eight hour drive through the mountains and we’ll be in Huanuco until Monday. While I always dread the drive, I’m dreading it a little less this time around since I’m excited to see Orlando’s family, and, of course, the dogs, for the first time since December. Until next time! 

Welcome to the Jungle

I am truly at a loss for where to begin with this—let’s start here: Iquitos was by far the most amazing place I have ever been to in my life.

With my buddy, Elope, the sloth! (Yes, we named her.)

Yeah, that’s a good start.

Okay, so bright and early Monday morning, Dave, Erica, Katrina and I hopped a plane and headed to Iquitos. I’d been told that as soon as you land in Iquitos, you can just feel the heat coming off the ground; it was hot when we landed, but it wasn't an inferno, so I was hopeful. 

Erica, drinking from a tree.

When you plan your trip to Iquitos, you have two choices: summer (dry season) or winter (rainy season.) If you pick summer, all of the mosquitoes are DEAD. Nothing is flooded, so you can walk everywhere. On the downside, it’s miserably hot—over 100 degrees and you have to do a lot more walking, since parts of the river are dried up. We chose to come at the beginning of winter. A few things were flooded, but not many, and the temperatures were in the lower 90’s. The air was thick with humidity and I have truly never seen more mosquitoes in my life. All the same—if you’re going to plan a trip to Iquitos, I still say winter is the way to go. I couldn't imagine it being any hotter.

Anyway—getting back to business, as soon as we landed, we hopped a van and traveled south for two hours to a small port, and from there we hopped a boat for two hours to head to our lodge. Just before we got to the lodge, we saw the place where the two major rivers, Nanay and Itaya combine to form the Amazon. We continued on down the Nanya and arrived at our cozy little lodge in a pueblo called Libertad. Our lodge was simple and only had power from 6:15 p.m. to 9:15 p.m.--but it was perfect for us. 

The angry anaconda, and Victor nursing his wound.

We settled, ate a quick lunch and then it was immediately off to task number one: sloth hunting. We trekked through a village on the outskirts of the jungle, looking up in trees for the little fellas. Our guide, Victor, had this amazing ability to see animals in trees from far away, that we couldn't even find close up. He quickly spotted one, then our boat driver shimmied up the tree with a machete in his hands (how he did this, I still have no idea.) Our guide explained to us that eagles eat sloths (which is simply insane to me) and that when a sloth sees one coming, it simply rolls out of the tree. He’d seen them fall from ridiculously high distances and be okay. All the same, when our driver started chopping off the branch with the sloth on it, we were all a little scared that the sloth would get hurt. However, the branch fell, sloth included, and everything was okay—and I got to be the first person in our group to hold a sloth. If I thought I liked sloths before, now I’m completely convinced. It’s neck range is huge, when you held it, it spun it’s neck all the way around to look at you—then it slow motion swatted at you with its claws. After a few minutes with it, we put it back in a tree, and once again it began to slow motion shimmy upwards.

Sunset on the Amazon--nothing like it. 

Day two was our first day deep into the jungle—and let me tell you, the mosquitoes were incredible. You’d look down and there would be twenty on your thighs. You’d swat them, then realize there were now twenty on your arms. It was a constant battle that no amount of repellent could help you with. So—swatting and slapping ourselves we got our first jungle experience. Our guide cut up a tree that we all drank fresh water from and we all had the weird experience of letting termites crawl on our hands. When you smash the termites, it gives off a sent that wards off mosquitoes (supposedly...) Day two was also our first encounter with a snake—we stumbled upon a fisherman on the river who had caught an anaconda in his fishing net. The snake promptly bit our guide and with bleeding fingers he showed up our first wild anaconda. Then he asked if we wanted to hold it. I looked at his bloody fingers and said, “No, thanks.”

Me and the red piranha I caught! 

Day three started and ended on great notes. We started by going piranha fishing, which was surprisingly easy.  Our fishing poles were simple strings attached to sticks, and we baited our lines with little pieces of chicken. As soon as you felt a piranha tug, you had to fling it out of the water and into the boat before it flipped off the line. This resulted in Erica getting “fish slapped” multiple times. After fishing, we spent a little more time in the jungle, looking at different plants and huge trees, and by night we went alligator hunting. It began storming right before we left, and it was something like a horror movie. Thunder clapping, lightening illuminating the water and reeds, the sound of rainfall, and our guide Victor’s poncho billowing with the wind of the boat. But he plucked a baby alligator out of the water to show all of us, then returned it later because they’re an endangered species.

Erica, with the catch of the day! 

Day four was MONKEY day. We drove our boat up to this little cove where all sorts of moneys were playing in the trees: spider, capuchin, howler, etc. We threw them all banana and they LOVED them; turns out monkeys don’t just eat bananas in cartoons. The best part was when one of them launched itself into our boat and proceeded to eat all the bananas it could find. Our night event was a little less cute—looking for snakes in the jungle. Victor told us time and time again: NEVER walk in the jungle at night. It’s when all the nasty things come out—alligators, jaguars, poisonous snakes, etc. Yet, all the same, he led us into the jungle at night. We found a multitude of tarantulas and the banana spider, which is the world’s most poisonous spider. We also encountered a poisonous viper swimming in the river, which Victor simply plucked out of the water with his t-shirt. Our night ended with us chatting and swinging in the hammocks in our lodge, and later star gazing... in the freaking Amazon.

Monkeys are messy eaters--go figure. 

Our last day was mainly spent travelling and saying our goodbyes. We got our last fill of jungle stories from Victor—which were one of my favorite parts of the trip. Seriously—Google the demon of the jungle—he has some amazing tales about it. Perhaps one of the greatest parts of the Amazon is that there is still so much we can never understand or tame, it is simply fantastic. 

And now, here we are, back in Lima. Church flew by last weekend, with us getting in late Friday night, then whisking off to church for the rest of the weekend. I taught a kid’s class that went well and we hammered out some details for next weekend, when we’ll have church on the beach. After that, we’re spending the following weekend back in Huanuco, and words cannot describe my excitement. I’m starting to think that maybe February is my new favorite month. Until next time! 

Walking the Line: Preparing for the Future and Living in the Moment

I’ve interrupted our Sunday night movie tradition to blog before we head to Iquitos tomorrow . You should appreciate this, as Sunday night movie is one of our most treasured traditions. 

Celebrating yet another birthday in Peru. 

For starters: what on Earth is Iquitos? Iquitos is a city in what we like to call the “selva” in Peru, aka the jungle. In fact, the city’s nickname is the “Capital of the Peruvian Amazon.” That’s right—we’re headed to the Amazon Basin. Iquitos is the heart of the jungle, and it’s actually nestled alongside three rivers: The Nanay, the Itaya and, of course, the Amazon. Since it’s the jungle we should naturally expect three things: 1. Blazing heat, 2. Rain and 3. An assortment of animals: mosquitos included. But with malaria pills on hand and a giddy sense of adventure, we’re ready.

Now, moving on, this week something new emerged. I was browsing a website called MOREAP, which is a hub for teaching openings in the state of Missouri. As I looked at what was available in the Kansas City area, it suddenly became evident to me that the time was now: it’s time to start applying for jobs. Now, this creates a contradiction. How do you balancing living in the moment and planning for the future? We’ve heard all the phrases: Carpe Diem, YOLO, live while you’re young, etc. We know we’re supposed to embrace the moment. However, what One Direction does NOT sing songs about is that it stinks to have no job, no money and no health insurance. It’s just not as catchy. So this week brought the question: how do I live in the moment and experience Peru, while also making sure I’m preparing for July 14 when I step foot on American soil again?

Playing squishy face with little Melissa.

Well—my first major decision with this came today. Before our Iquitos trip, I wanted to complete a job application for the district where I did my student teaching and make some progress on my Teach for America application. The Teach for America application required a Skype interview and a two-hour line online activity. My other application—well, I was just meticulous about it and wanted everything to be perfect. The problem? Today was a major carnival in Lima celebrating the city of Puno. The carnival promised a variety of traditional dances from Puno and Peruvians celebrating in full force. Thus, the decision: finish everything before I head to Iquitos or go to the carnival? The Teach for America activities were on a strict deadline and the other job opening said the district would close the position as soon as they selected a candidate. They could select one at any time. So--the decision? I stayed home and worked. 

I know, I know what you’re all thinking: Melissa, why didn’t you go to the festival?! I know. And I wanted to go the festival. However, I don’t want to spend my entire week in Iquitos kicking myself and fretting over job applications. I wanted to be at peace. So, if this makes any sense: I didn’t live in the moment, so that I can live in the moment next week. There is always going to be that one thing that you COULD have done, but you didn't. But after the moment passes, you have to trust your judgement and just move on. 

I know this is going to be an issue that continues to emerge, but luckily, now that I know what lies ahead of me I can make a solid work schedule and avoid having to make choices like this in the future. And I supposed this just gives me a reason to come back to Peru—I’ve got to catch that dance festival next year J

Anyway—let’s get to this weekend. Friday night was our second English class in Monte Sion and our attendance more than doubled. This was welcome news, but when your age range is 2-13 years old and nobody seems to come two weeks in a row, it was a bit of a hurdle. Throw in the fact that nobody came on time, and we barely got through five new vocab words. Thus, we’ve got our work cut out for us when it comes to this class—but we’re ready. 

Katrina at the Carnival in Lima today.

Saturday was another little hiccup—I found out Friday that I’d be presiding. So, once more I had the rush of getting a service together on time. Now, nobody likes being rushed—but I especially hate being rushed when I’m presiding. I like to make a nice, flowing service that ties everything together. I like to put people at ease when they’re at church, to make an environment where you’re open and ready for the preacher. This tranquil art in near impossible when you’re frantically throwing together a power point. Eventually, the service came together; but the tranquility and flow just wasn’t there. The last second notice thing may be something I never master, yet I hope I'm at least getting better at thinking on my feet. 

And that brings us to today. My friends Dave and Erica were able to come to church with us in Filidelfia, and that was a wonderful experience. It’s weird to watch two of your communities come together: your United States life and your Peru life; but perhaps what is weirder is to watch when they don’t mesh perfectly. To see that, perhaps you’ve changed a little over time. Now, that’s not to say that my friends and my church family fought; it was friendly and there was nothing of the sort. But it was obvious that my friend felt out of their element, and church is Filidelfia is about as in my element as I get in Peru. Sometimes you think that people never really change that much--but you never know. Perhaps we're changing more than we realize. 

And now--we're up to date. You already know what’s on my plate for next week (Iquitos) and it’s late and I still have to pack. So I’m up to the roof to fetch my clean laundry, then off to bed for a glorious five hours of sleep. Until next time!