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Published: August 10th 2006
Tino at Torre Torre
Thought I would include at least one photo!Well, after a seven hour flight to Miami, a 24 hour layover there, a 5.5 hour flight to Lima, a 6 hour wait at the bus station, and a 7 hour bus ride, I finally arrived at a city up in the Andes called Huancayo. For those of you who are a bit on the green side when you hear of my travels, please also remember how much the travelling portion sucks. I'm so sick of airports. I can't wait to come home and not see an airport for a long, long time.
Anyway, on to Huancayo. Like I mentioned, it's in the Andes, so it's high up. How high? I have no idea, but I do know that I was in shock by how much the altitude has affected me. Luckily, I haven't had altitude sickness, but I am worn out after a 20 minute walk across town and feel the need to nap a few times a day while still getting 9+ hours of sleep. Crazy. I believe there are about 400,000 people living here; however, the city seems quite small when you go to the city centre and think you've maybe hit a tiny little shopping district with a park and a church. However, on Sundays, there is an amazing market that stretches on for miles and miles and miles. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but you get the idea. There are many cool arts and crafts, but there are also stalls selling anything you can think of. Actually, one of the volunteers mentioned that she saw a stall selling keys...yes, keys that appeared to not have accompanying locks. Just keys. Makes sense, right? Well, as I quickly discovered, you sometimes just have to accept that things are different when they make no sense whatsoever (Doha helped me learn this lesson quickly). I just keep saying to myself over and over again, "It's not wrong; it's just different." Okay, some of the stuff is just wrong, but I'm trying to be culturally sensitive (However, if you're the slightly insensitive type like me and get a kick out of how whacky other cultures can be, read the list at the bottom of the blog).
So, back to my arrival. Actually, I'll back up to the bus ride. It was a seven hour bus ride on a blistering hot bus, but I can't really complain as the ticket was less than $15! The views were unbelievable, but I tried my best not to look out the window, as I saw my life flash before my eyes when I watched the bus careen around corners at warp speed without any guard rails and very, very steep cliffs that started inches from the wheels! Eek. Very scary. I was the only "gringo" (the name all westerners are lovingly referred to by South Americans) on the bus and the tallest, as I discovered when they kept yelling "Senorita, Senorita" because they wanted me to open the ceiling window hatch as I was the only one who could reach it. Oh, yes, that's right. I was the tallest...even when compared to the men! This was not just an anomaly on the bus--it's everywhere. I'm taller than everyone! I love it.
When I arrived in Huancayo, a girl by the name of Lesley picked me up. She's Tino's niece (Tino is the director of the organization). It really doesn't make sense to describe the relations of everyone I live with, though, as niece, daughter, sister, etc. all seems to blend together and they're one big happy family. When I first got here, there were seven volunteers and about a dozen or so family members living in the house. I thought that was a lot of people, but I heard that there were 16 volunteers a few weeks ago. Now that's a full house! And poor Marie, Tino's wife, has to cook three meals a day for all of these people. You really can't comprehend how much a large family needs to buy until you live in this type of environment. I'm pretty sure that we go through a roll of toilet paper every few hours! I'm also not surprised that we have at least two carbs each meal (rice and potatoes, plus sometimes bread) as it's much easier to make in a mass quantity. Aside from the carb overload, I've actually been okay (and, who am I kidding? I love the carbs!). I know, you're probably all shocked that I've been okay eating someone else's meals (made at a slight mass quantity, to boot) without many problems. I've actually been trying new things, but I've been pretty spoiled as the staples are chicken, carbs, and maybe cooked carrots and celery. One of the foods that I'm addicted to is this inside out popcorn nut thing called "canja" (not sure about the spelling). They're delicious. I've also heard the mini donuts and hot wine (I know, odd combo) are fantastic, but I've restrained myself on the latter and have yet to indulge.
Okay, enough about the food. What else? Hmm, the weather. That's always a hot topic. Actually, in this case, it's a FREEZING COLD topic. I knew that it was going to be chilly, but I guess I thought that I would at least be warm indoors. What a bad assumption to make in a developing country. Although the family I live with is middle class, the house lacks basic heating and insulation, so I have the fun task of putting on gloves, a toque, a sweater, and socks in addition to my pajamas and five layers of blankets every night! Not fun. It actually gets to be quite hot during the day (15 - 20 degrees), but not inside. And the best part of living in a cold house is when you go to have a shower and half way through it turns to freezing, straight-from-the-glacier water. That's fun too. I was almost in tears when that happened during my first shower here. Yet again, I just kept repeating, "It's just different here. It's just different here". Somehow, that didn't make me feel that much better. It was also nice to get a little electric shock when I turned off the water. The shower heads are electric (that's how you get hot water...sometimes) and it gives you a nice little jolt when you touch it or the knob!
Well, aside from the ups and downs of settling into a new environment, the volunteer work has been pretty great. The girls at the orphanage are super cute and love kissing and hugging you the minute you get inside. It actually feels like a mob is after you. This ritual is also repeated when we leave each day. We're teaching the girls how to type and use the computer, which we hope will help them prepare for outside life, as each girl must fend for herself the day she turns 18. As these girls are ill prepared for the real world, we're trying to help them develop some skills that may be handy when looking for a job. Some of these girls have never even seen a computer before, so we feel pretty good about the work we're doing. In the afternoon, I help teach two English classes. The kids are between 10 - 14 and are pretty tired by the time they come to the school (it's an after school program), which is always fun. Overall, though, it's pretty good, aside from the fact that I've been abandoned in the second class since day 1. I am forced to come up with impromptu lesson plans for the kids, as I have no idea what they've already learned. Fun, fun. The type A in me has had to breathe slowly many times to deal with the slight lack of organization here. "It's just different. It's just different".
Other things that are "just different":
They love to make noise here. Everything involves loud, loud sounds. For example:
- Someone decided it was a great idea to attach a megaphone to fruit stands and walk through the streets screaming your different offerings into the megaphone. Someone also decided it was a good idea to do this early in the morning.
- These same megaphones are used on their "buses". Rather than a public transit system, they have these caravans that drive around with a guy yelling from the vehicle (with the door open) announcing the final destination. I've luckily escaped using this form of public transportation, as a typical taxi fare is less than a $1.00, so I usually suck it up and pay the fare. 😉
- Just in case the fruit vendors don't wake me up in the morning, the garbage truck also likes to blast music to announce it's arrival and warn people to get their garbage out in time.
- Just in case I thought that I would be saved from these early morning disturbances by a silent and peaceful night, I was relieved to find out that this, of course, is not the case. There's always the security guard that walks around at night blowing on a whistle to announce to potential thieves where he is (and, if you're a cynic, where he's not and, therefore, where it's safe to break into!).
- Oh, and of course, there are also the dogs: I can't get over the number of stray dogs here. I'm convinced one is going to attack me and threaten me with rabbis, but, until then, they just challenge each other with who has the loudest bark. They especially like to do this just as you're just about to fall asleep.
- I really did think that I saw honking at its best in Doha. But, no, not even close. Because there are no traffic signs on many streets, everyone just honks to announce their presence when they're flying through the intersection. Come to think of it, they just honk to announce their presence while driving down a straight road. Despite hearing honks every few seconds, I still turn to see why the person is honking. Oh, poor little Canadian who is used to honks to either let someone know they missed the turning light or to say hi to someone they know.
- The Santiagos: as shown in the photos, there are groups of musicians and dancers who play throughout the streets at random times. No one seems to know when they're going to play and where they're going to be. These sounds, unlike the other sounds, I like.
- And one just added to the list: At first, I thought I was hearing gunshots, but, apparently, it's fireworks at one of the many fiestas around town. Even though it's Wednesday, Lesley just confirmed that this is very common.
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Paul
non-member comment
Sounds like fun!
"...they just honk to announce their presence while driving down a straight road." hahaha....and I thought New York was bad for honking. Good stories!