Classes, Coast Lines and Chicharrón

Yes, yes, the blog post is a day late—but to make up for it, I’ll blog about our beach adventures yesterday. Deal? Deal.

Breakfast: Complete with blood sausage! 

So—last week can best be summarized in one word: MEADS. Again, MEADS stands for Ministerial Education and Discipleship Studies is a fancy was of saying we had temple school classes. And temple school classes is a fancy way to say we  studied church theology, scripture and general ministry techniques. MEADS is generally held in the Community of Christ Temple in Missouri, however for a lot of people in South America, that just isn’t an option: thus they bring the party to us.

And by “the party” I mean some interesting classes and Carlos Mejia and Steve Hatch. This was my first time meeting Carlos. He hails from Honduras, a country where the Community of Christ is thriving at the moment. He’s also a member of the Council of Twelve Apostles (and if you’re not a Community of Christ member, just know that means he’s kind of a big deal.) Steve visited us in January and he’s the apostolic assistant for Central and South America. The two of them, as well as Wilfredo, arrived in Peru on Wednesday, fresh from giving their MEADS presentations in Colombia.

Gathered around for a prayer during Steve's class. 

The week was a nice mix of business and pleasure. Wednesday we started things off with a casual meeting in Consuelo’s house to chat and preview the rest of the week. Thursday we had our first official class in Marlene’s house, talking about Christian Ethics. Thursday was also the day Jimmy and Cristian from Huanuco arrived. While the weekend didn’t leave a ton of time for banter, it was wonderful to have a little piece of Huanuco in town.

Friday was when things really took off. We started the morning with “breakfast” at a place famous for its chicarron (fried pork) called Don Luchos. Breakfast entailed sweet potatoes, ham, blood sausage (yes, it’s made with blood) and, of course, chicarron. It was fantastic, and a breakfast that made lunch completely obsolete. After that we headed to Monte Sion for a church service to kick things off. Katrina and I tag teamed presiding, Wilfredo preached and things rolled along fairly smoothly. 

Can you believe it? Steve gave us HOMEWORK! 

Saturday was our first full day of classes. An hour later than planned (in true Peruvian fashion) we climbed in a combi and trekked off to Monte Sion. Carlos taught a class on “Cuidado Pastoral” (Pastoral Care) and we had a surprising turnout from the Monte Sion congregation. People were impressively engaged in the lesson—because, let’s face it, a five hour class on anything can get a little dry after a while. We ended the night with another quick service, a beautiful sermon by Steve and a fantastic dinner served up by one of the Monte Sion members, Maria.

Sunday was our last day of MEADS. Once again, we climbed on the combi an hour later than planned, and this time five of us had to get out and walk so the combi could make it up the hill to Monte Sion (this hill is no joke, people.) After that toasty walk, we jumped into Steve’s class, which focused on the book of Mark. We compared different books of the bible and different interpretations and it was my favorite class of the weekend. Once again, we finished the affair with a church service, this one a little more extensive, and with a sermon by Carlos.

Our last day of MEADS with the freshly painted church!

Before we knew it, our time had run out and Wilfredo had to scamper off to the airport so Carlos and Steve could catch their flight to Chile. They have the pleasure of teaching their MEADS classes three weeks in a row.

To celebrate the successful weekend, the Filidelfia congregation headed out to the movie theater immediately afterwards to see “Non-Stop.” (I have to note here that the Spanish movie title literally translates to “Without Layovers” which is a much less dynamic title.) Something I love about Peru is that everyone here LOVES doing things with their family. Everyone begged and pleaded for Graciela and Consuelo (the two mothers in the group) to come to the movie with us, and eventually wrangled them into it (Consuelo promptly slept through the entire movie.)

By the end of the day, everyone had wet ocean pants. 

And that brings us to yesterday. For Jimmy and Cristian’s last day in Lima, Wilfredo took us all out to the beach to soak our feet. Graciela and I promptly trekked a little too close to the surf and got soaked from head to toe in seawater; however, it was a toasty day and we spent the rest of the afternoon drying out in the sun, unsuccessfully trying to skip rocks and watching surfers. Something about the quiet afternoon together was a simply beautiful experience and it stands as one of my favorite days I’ve had thus far in Peru.

As for this week, I’m presiding in Monte Sion and teaching a class in Filidelfia.  We leave in ONE WEEK for Arequipa and Lake Titicaca--and I can't wait for that new adventure. Big things are happening and our time is slowly slipping by—but we’re trying to hold on and love every moment of it. Until next time!

Tying up Loose Ends

Painting the back of the church! 

The church painting is finished, my stitches are out and our tickets to Arequipa/Lake Titicaca are BOOKED! Let’s recap.

Last Monday, our little team of church painters took a much needed day of rest. I know it’s only been two weeks since I’ve stopped running, but can I tell you something? Painting the church makes me feel crazy out of shape. My THIGHS were by far the sorest part of my body. My thighs?! I hate to think of what kind of awkward squatty position I paint in.

Anyway, Tuesday it was back to the grind and Wilfredo, Prudencio, Billy, Katrina and I made the trek to Monte Sion to finish up painting. Katrina and I tackled painting the outside of the church, while Wilfredo and Prudencio touched up the inside. Perhaps my favorite part of the day was watching Wilfredo paint over all of the accidentally paint splotches we made, just to watch Prudencio leave another three seconds later. We started the day with every intention of finishing the job, but alas, we ran out of paint and sunlight before we could wrap things up.

Prudencio: Paint brush in one hand, Inca Cola in the other. 

Wednesday was the GLORIOUS day they took my stitches out. When the doctor glanced at my foot he hesitated and asked me to clarify how long my stitches had been in, but eventually said they were ready to come out and I did a happy dance in my head. The bad news? He says I still can’t run for THREE weeks! While I appreciate a good excuse to be a lazy turd, that’s going to make five weeks total without running which makes Melissa an unhappy, slightly pudgier camper.

After getting my stitches out, Katrina and I celebrated by booking our plane tickets for our next trip: Arequipa and Lake Titicaca! Lake Titicaca is where the Incans believe the sun was born and is the highest elevated lake in the world. Arequipa is known as “The White City” and has Colca Canyon on its outskirts, which is supposed to surpass the Grand Canyon in beauty. We leave in two weeks and I’m super excited—despite our host family’s repeated warnings that one person got lost and died in the Canyon last year.

We're clearly working hard. 

Friday we bid our adieu to Billy and Anna, as they prepared to make the trip back home to Pomobamba. Billy’s constant commentary on our lives has been entertaining over the last few months (and at times slightly offensive…”That man is SO, SO fat! He is even fatter than MELISSA!”) I know I’ll miss his passion for selling popsicles, singing performances and “jokes” (which always just end up being a long story about one of his friends farting.) The surprise of the day was his mother, Anna, giving us a very tearful goodbye. This Chavez family is infamous for being criers, but the farewell was a reminder to Katrina and I how hard our goodbyes are going to be with the rest of the family in July.  

Paint crew (minus Billy): Wilfredo, Prudencio, Katrina & I. 

Friday night we trekked off to Monte Sion for a little more painting and our weekly bible study. Now—don’t fool yourself and think we had a boring night of slapping a paint brush against a wall because anytime you travel to Monte Sion with Prudencio, it’s an adventure. Prudencio has two cars, and I’m not sure which of them scares me more.

To clarify, Monte Sion is at the top of a giant hill, which can challenge the most capable of cars. Prudencio’s cars…they…well, they just aren’t the greatest. If the car is full, two people have to get out and walk up the hills, otherwise the car won’t make it. At one point, the car made it halfway up the hill, then couldn’t go anymore and we had to slowly reverse back down the hill. But if you think going UP is a thrill—the going down—THAT, my friends is where the action is. Prudencio’s car has a tendency to die—and when it does, there aren’t any breaks. As we went down, Pudencio happily recounted the tale of the time his car died going down the hill and he nearly drove onto someone’s roof. Prudencio is notorious for being absolutely fearless and one trip in his car to Monte Sion will convince you of it.

Our reward for those long days of painting: sunsets. 

Anyway—nobody ended up coming to the bible study on Friday, which has been a reoccurring problem in Monte Sion. Saturday, we headed back (once again, a delightful adventure in the Prudencio-mobile) and FINALLY finished the painting job. Prudencio and I touched up the paint on the outside while the rest of our group took up the tedious job of chipping paint off the floor inside. Once we got things ready to go, we started our service. It was the first time I’d ever seen Prudencio preside, but it was an experience I’m glad to have had. The family loves to joke that Prudencio is long-winded, but he kept things moving along at the perfect pace.

Farewell Anna (left) and Billy (the wee one)!! 

Sunday it was my turn to preach in Filidelfia. Lately, writing sermons has become more and more challenging. I continually realize that I don’t process and dwell on a scripture like other people do; my brain is a weird place and it does what it wants. I think this week I finally came to terms with that. I ended my service with a short meditation where everyone could stew a little on the scripture and come up with what it means to THEM—because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? It’s charming to entertain the idea that I have some great wisdom to impart on everyone, but sometimes, people are better off filling in some of the blanks themselves.

Tomorrow, the insanity of MEADS (Ministerial Education and Discipleship) unofficially kicks off because a few church leaders are flying in. The actual classes and services of MEADS won’t start until Friday, but whenever we have visitors in town, we’re always on the move. So here’s to another week on the go and hoping that everyone enjoys the church’s new makeover! 

Painting the Town Red...Church Brown...Whatever.

The before picture of Monte Sion. 

Last week started in Monte Sion with a popcorn covered floor and a dusty white church. A few days later, we sat in the same building, eating a soft and sweet cake and celebrating our freshly painted light brown walls. Let’s recap.

Tuesday marked our first ever movie night in Monte Sion. For a while now, the most dynamic thing about the congregation in Monte Sion has been the youth participation. Any given Sunday, we have about 25 local kids come to our classes, ranging from 2 – 13 years old. Since it’s summer in the southern hemisphere, the students are finishing up their summer vacation and heading back to school for a new year. To celebrate, the church hosted a movie bash and we watched “Lilo & Stitch” and “The Emperor’s New Groove.” We had planned only one movie for the night, but in true Peruvian fashion, nobody showed up until the last 15 minutes of the movie, so we played another.

Wilfredo, mixing up our new color! 

With a lot of children’s events in Monte Sion, we’ve had the awkward experience of the kids coming, getting their presents or snacks, then instantly leaving (to me, this sounds a lot like college kids in the United States.) Movie night was no exception—as soon as the soda, suckers and popcorn ran dry, most of the kids scrambled out of the church—but the night was about hosting kids and familiarizing them with who we are and what we do. So—even though only two or three stayed until the end of the movie, while about 40 came to eat popcorn—I’m going to call the night a success.

Wednesday morning I woke up elated, because it was my big day—my stitches were FINALLY coming out. I hopped a combi, and went to the doctor solo, a little nervous about talking through the appointment in Spanish; however, everything got off without a hitch... well, that is, until the doctor looked at my foot and dropped the bomb on me that it would need ANOTHER week with stitches to heal. So it goes.

The kids at Monte Sion, sanding before we paint! 

Thursday brought plenty to distract me from my stitches disappointment, because we FINALLY started painting the church in Monte Sion. Ever since we’ve come to Peru, the congregation has said they want to paint the church and Katrina and I have been pushing HARD to make it happen—so Thursday, after seven months, we finally headed to Sodimac to buy paint.

The day started out looking bleak. While the congregation had voted on colors to paint the church, we quickly realized we hadn’t decided on a specific shade or brand. We also found out that there WASN’T money in the budget for paint (Katrina and I had been pushing the project along because we’d been told the church already had the money.) Next, we also encountered the issue of how many colors we were painting the church. I was under the impression we’d selected two colors, Katrina thought we’d decided on three colors and now the running total stands at five colors: two outside, three inside. Needless to say, the day started with a lot of head shaking, sighing and thoughts of maybe we should just put this off another week. But low and behold, we persevered and eventually made it to Monte Sion with a cart full of paint. And so it began.

Gettin' my paint on! 

All day Thursday, Friday and Saturday we painted and painted. I have to pause here to say that some of the people here are simply fearless. There is only one large latter in the church and it looks like it was hewn together in about five minutes out of some random sticks someone found in their backyard. At Christmas, Wilfredo climbed the latter to hang up lights and promptly went tumbling down its uneven rungs. Additionally, the floor in Monte Sion is concrete, so everything naturally slides across the floor. All the same, at multiple points during the day I’d turn around from painting something and there was Prudencio,15 feet off the ground with nothing keeping that latter from sliding and clattering to the ground. The man is fearless.

I call this move, "the neck breaker." 

After three full days of painting, taping, begging kids to stop touching the walls, and pollo a la brasa for lunch, we were scrambling before church to clear enough space and sweep so that we could have a service. The church isn’t completely done—we still have some spots to touch up—but I have to say, as we sat in that service on Saturday night, we truly felt like we were in God’s home, not just an empty church. Katrina presided and Gladys preached, and after the service we pulled out a cake to celebrate International Women’s Day. As we began eating, a giant rat ran out from under the water tank and I have never seen such chaos inside of a church. The event can only be described from a gloriously awful song from my childhood called “The Mississippi Squirrel Revival.” If you didn’t grow up with a father from Hannibal, MO that calls the thing you clean clothes with the “warshin machine” you can watch a YouTube video of the Ray Steven’s song by clicking here.  Anyway, the chaos of part of the room running away, part of the room standing and shrieking and part of the room running about, smacking the ground with brooms, ended when Wilfredo stomped on the rat with a sickening crunch. Happy Women’s Day!

The after picture--much more homey! 

Anyway—after that excitement, Sunday was “tranquila.” We ate a cevicheria on the coast, then had our typical service in Filidelfia.

This week is already flying-- tomorrow we’re putting the finishing touches on the paint in Monte Sion, Wednesday my stitches come out, Thursday is Sandra’s birthday, Friday is Billy and Anna’s last day in Callao and Sunday I’ll be preaching in Filidelfia. In our free time, we’ll be planning MEADS (Ministerial Education and Discipleship Studies) which is now just under two weeks away (more info to come.)

Until then—I hope you enjoy the pictures of the new church colors as much as I do!  

Bloody Wednesday: The Battle of a Toe and a Hand Weight.

Last week was…well…bloody. Let’s recap.

As I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago, I’m currently tangoing with the odd situation of trying to live in the moment while I’m in Peru, yet looking for work in the US. So, after the church-filled weekend in Huánuco, I got back to the hunt on Wednesday and spent my entire morning in a final interview with Teach for America.

Oh--you didn't want to see it? Too bad. 

The morning was full of all of the natural nerves and worries that come with any job interview, plus the added concern of our less than stellar internet connection; however, by 2 p.m. I was done with the interview and had strapped on my tennis shoes to go run out the morning’s tension. After a half hour run, I felt refreshed, came home, stripped off my shoes, stretched and started to lift weights. After a particularly hard set, I put my hand weights on the dresser—and this is when my beloved six pound hand weight betrayed me—and rolled off the dresser and landed with a horrifying “thunk” on my left foot.  

Can I tell you something? I didn’t know a toe so small could bleed so much. I crumpled to the floor instantly after the weight hit me, looked at my foot and saw my toe had split open. In a matter of seconds my hands were completely covered in blood and it was uncontrollably spilling over my sopping hands and onto the floor. I called out to Graciela  and shyly said, “Uhh…can you help me with something?” She came upstairs, looked at me and asked, “What did you DO?!” Now—let me tell you something else—this woman is fearless of blood. All I wanted was for her to bring me a wet towel, but she grabbed the towel and helped me clean every drop off blood of my cut, hands, legs and the floor. This woman is a saint. She even put a band aid on for me, which made me feel six years old, but better all the same.

I wish you could sit on the roof of every church and site see.

From there, it was the frustrating process of figuring out where my insurance said I should go for medical help, then deciding to go somewhere completely different. Eventually, we showed up at a local clinic where they very embarrassingly insisted that I roll around in a wheelchair, like my foot was a mangled bloody stump or something.  After some x-rays, everything checked out okay and the doctor put three stitches in my toe and kindly told me that he doesn’t want me to walk until we take them out—a WEEK later.

Needless to say, I’ve respected the doctor’s wishes as much as possible—but I have walked. I have three stitches in my toe—I’m not going to ask someone to carry me to the toilet for that. However, the cabin fever of knowing I CANT leave the house set in almost instantly.

Now—running is a constantly challenging sport that I don’t always love, but I have to tell you—I cannot WAIT to get these stitches out so I can run again. Yes—sometimes when I run I get chased by dogs, whistled at by creepy men and one time I even saw a man’s entire penis as he took a leak about two feet away from me—but as a World Service Corps rep, running is sometimes the only YOU time you get the entire day.

Clearly a wheelchair is not necessary for this. 

By the time the weekend arrived, it was  breath of fresh air because it meant I got to LEAVE the house. Saturday, I was in charge of the young adult class, but unfortunately there was birthday party at the same time as my class and, well, the birthday party won.  

Sunday in Filidelfia, we guinea pigged the more “traditional” way of presiding. Presiding in Peru has always meant the presider is the center of the service. They walk the audience step-by-step through the service. The presider usually gives the invocation, welcome, introduces every song and event (offertory, communion, etc.) and gives a pre and post-sermon talk. In all honestly, I prefer preaching to presiding because being this MC-type person can be a TON of work.

Katrina's class on Saturday in Monte Sion.

So, Marlene presided on Sunday with a more behind-the-scenes approach. For the first time since I’ve come to Peru, everything was actually planned out ahead of time. I even had a full 24 hours notice that I’d be giving a testimony, which is simply unheard of here. I would also like to point out that this more American-style of presiding was NOT Katrina nor I’s idea—it was a local leader’s idea. The service glided along smoothly and it was a good experience; although I must admit, I’m going to miss a little bit of the charm in the way that Peru is so different and transparent about who puts together their service. But, times are a changing, and I’m glad the leadership team here is willing to try different things.

As for this week, we’ll be in Monte Sion every day to FINALLY paint the church (I’ll post before and after pics!) And my stitches, if they look okay, come out TOMORROW! Wish me luck—if they don’t take these puppies out, I might have to go and eat three plates picarones to numb my disappointment. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Until next time!

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!