Goodbye Huanuco, Hello New A Cappella Quintet

I know, I know, I’m a horrible person! I’m two, bordering on three blog posts behind. I’m fixing it now, okay?

Saying "Adios" to Carolina, our host mom.

Recap time—and I won’t skimp!

SO—when I last left you we were still in Huánuco and we’d just finished up our last church service there. So—let’s pick up where that left off, shall we?

Our last few days in Huánuco trickled away. We made some last visits around town and stopped by Fabrizio’s house, which is always fun because at any given time are at least two people constructing fireworks in the room. This time around, they were making a few dozen Papier-mâché bulls, which they would later attach explosives to, then people light them in carry them on their heads during a festival. Only in Peru.

Our hurrah in Huánuco was a campfire with the family. After about 40 minutes of trying to light chicken crates on fire, we finally got a decent flame going and sang a variety of popular Peruvian and American camp songs. Perhaps my favorite part of the campfire was when Jimmy said he wanted us all to play a popular Peruvian game, which consisted of one person pretending to be a parent, someone stealing one of their children, then the parent punishing the rest of the children. I think something had to have gotten lost in translation with this game because it sounds like more of a nightmare than childhood game—but we played it was fun nonetheless.

Leaving Huanuco in style. 

Eventually, the day we’d been dreading was upon us and it was time to start saying our goodbyes. The last time we left Huánuco, we left on a Sunday and the whole family was around to see us off; this time was a bit different. We left around one on a weekday, so we ended up saying goodbye to the family one by one as they headed out to work or school. On principal, the toughest goodbye is the host mom, and saying goodbye to Carolina certainly complied to the rule. Eventually all the goodbyes were said, our room cleared out and it was time to bid our farewell to three months of our Peruvian adventure.  

This time around we flew home, courtesy of Katrina’s dad (I elected to call him “Mr. P” but Katrina says that’s a horrible nickname.) We hitched a ride to the airport with Rollen, our neighbor and host uncle. Rollen is a pig farmer and generally uses his truck to transport the pig’s food back and forth, but this time he transported two very heavy suitcases, Katrina and I. Since the cab of his truck only held two people, Katrina and Rollen sat up front and I parked myself on a spare tire in the truck bed.

Riding down the hill of Huancachupa and out of the city of Huánuco was an amazing experience. It’s not often in life that you get to slow things down and watch as a page turns—but that’s exactly what I got to do. I go to see the house pass by, Loki the dog give up on chasing the car, the Hill of Death fade from sight, bid farewell to Bridge San Sebastian and Huánuco’s Lion statue, and smile at the cross on the hill that we hiked down during our trekking disaster Chichui. The wind blew my already crazy hair, dust flew through the air and everything slowly slipped away.

Karlee and I during children's class  in Monte Sion. 

Eventually, we made it to the smallest airport I have ever seen (with perhaps the exception of the Lamoni, IA airport), went through the most painless security process ever and we’re on our way back to Lima. As we expected, our arrival in Callao was announced by the “neblina”; the intense fog sets in over Lima every winter and refuses to leave until January.

There wasn’t much time for sweet reunions because we went straight back to work. Katrina taught bible study on Friday, I taught one of the kid’s classes on Saturday and on Sunday I preached while Katrina presided. Did I mention that in the midst of preparing for all of these things, we were also preparing for a major trip? Because the following Monday we were headed out to Paracas, Ica and Nazca with three of my friends from college, Karlee, Rebecca and Zach. And in preparation for that, they were all showing up in Callao. It was a tad busy.

Zach, Rebecca, myself and Karlee on the coast in Lima. 

All three of my friends made it to the Sunday night service in Filidelfia, which was wonderful for me to see—my two worlds, blended together. My favorite part of Sunday was when Katrina and I sneak attacked Karlee, Rebecca and Zach with the news that the five of us would be singing “Come, Holy Spirit, Come” in front of the congregation. Most of us didn’t know the words, didn’t have a particular gift for singing and it was everyone’s first experience in an acapella quintet. I told my friends afterwards that you can’t understand my experience in Peru if you haven’t embarrassed yourself in front of one of the congregations.

And THAT, is where one week ends and another adventure begins: our trip along the Peruvian coast. I’ve got another post coming at you this week—I promised!