Life in the Selva

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Hey everyone,
As my writing may reflect, my life here hasn´t been incredibly organized. As I have been meeting friends here and practicing Spanish, I realize that what I am doing is quite different than I had anticipated coming to Pucallpa.
Project report: Similarly to the Sierra, there is not a huge amount of tourism in Pucallpa over textiles, and most of what I am doing is speaking to artists as I meet them. There is a ton of jewelery-making here as income for native women, and I like asking them what kinds of plants their materials come from and such. I have met several Shipibo folks simply by walking around who have offered to introduce me to textile artists from their community. I also have met not one but two folks who have offered to teach me Shipibo. I think that this is one illustrative example of the extrovented nature of Peruvians from this region. I was reflecting yesterday, and I realized that I have never felt endagered or threatened here, and that whenever I have neeced anything there has never been a lack of help.
I also realized that I have no only adapted a little physically to the climate but also quite a bit to the social climate. For example, I have stopped wanting to punch men in the face for what I had before perceived as harrassment but now understand to be the typical way of greeting. I realized that not every person who whistles at me is going to try to be my boyfriend, but that realtionships between men and women are just so different here.
I still sometimes feel frustrated by the focus of physical attractiveness here (on the part of men and women), and wish that I didn´t have to think about being sexualized or objecitified simply because I am female.
Anyway, Pucallpa has been unfolding itself, and opening its arms through the mania of too much noise and heat.
For example, one day I went swimming in the lake, and started wading and was swallowed up to my waist in mud. It felt great, but I was laughing and struggling to free myself when two guys from a nearby group of swimmers started to wade over with a canoe. I thought maybe they were going somewhere or simply wanted to see the spectacle, but they heled me into the canoe and invited me to swim with them, where it was deeper and less muddy.
I was later gifted the most perfectly swollen and ripe mango by a fisherman. It was more juicy and sweet than almost anything in my whole life. Although the mangoes I groundscore walking around are really good, this was like a mango of divinity.
I left the center of Pucallpa (motorcycles raging 24 hours a day gets old). I was sad to leave my friends from the neighborhood, like the nice lady who sold me cocona juice or the guy from Lima who gave me the most expansive lesson in Peruvian slang ever. However, it is nice here in Yarina and I managed to work out a deal with the dueña of my hospedaje for one of the cheepest and nicest rooms I have had in Perú.
When I was living in the center, I was faced everyday with the reality of prostitution. It is common here, and there are always women more scantily-clad than normal strolling around in the night, or frequenting my former hospedaje. I talked to some guys about it, and they said that it is basically legal here. I am not sure if it is in the eyes of the law, but the police tolerate it (much as they seem to tolerate drug use here, more than in the Sierra). It is strange being in a place where such things are normalized, but I am encouraged to know that, according to friends, the women always use condoms and can make a better living here than working similarly almost anywhere else. Passing by at night, I look the ladies in the eyes and they smile right back.
Somedays I just hang around Yarinacocha, exploring the lake or streets, but most days I take collectivos into the city. It´s interesting driving in collectivos because they are virtually the only cars around. Other than them, the streets are filled completely with motokars (motorcyle-rickshaws), and motorcycles driven by almost every possible demographic, usually with up the three people per motorcycle, and always without a helmit. It´s icredible being in a place where it is so abnormal to have a personal car, and even though motocarros are obnoxious, it´s a nice change from the clogged-streets of American cities.
I also had my first experience with the rain here. The night before was filled with southern-lightning, the all day Sunday was drenched and probably 15 degrees colder. Strange, to go from alarmly warm to chilly. And the wide open sky (obscured only by clouds, as everything here is perfectly flat) became dark grey, and the light completely changed everything. It was on regional election-day, which there has been much enthusiam leading up to, and Yarinacocha was filled with folks travelling from more remote towns to participate in compulsory voting. As the results are presented and the elections pass, the mania of the political rallies and crowds surrounding canditates´ "club-houses" will subside a little, and maybe traffic will get better.
I am heading to deeper in the jungle for a couple of weeks, and am excited to tell you about it.
Chau!

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Comments

[Dad]

Dr. livingston I presume?
We (all your faithful blog followers) are anxiously awaiting your return to "civilization". Remember, if you bring back exotic pets from the jungle, both your Mom and your kitty will be upset.