Our year in Peru...
This blog is my attempt at documenting one year of my life. It officially began on the 4th of July when my son and I boarded a plane to Lima, Peru and met my husband at the airport. Heifer International has relocated me to pilot a development program for one year in the Peru office in Lima. The name of the game? Change. Lots of it: New job, new marriage, new family, new home, new language, new life, new beginnings.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
The sound of silence
In the last 60
seconds....
- Concrete is
being extracted within 20 yards-- below my office window by a jackhammer
- 35 buses per
minute are flying by at 65 miles per hour within jumping distance from my
office
- No fewer than
10 taxis are honking
- Construction
workers are welding, sanding and grating and doing stuff I don't know what, but
it is loud
- TWO car alarms
are going off
- A backhoe is
backing up beeping its"reverse"
beeping thing
- Construction
workers are yelling and whistling
out at each other constantly
- An ambulance
is going by, sirens blaring
- One of those
motorcycles, I don't know what they're called, but they're loud - is flying by
at full speed
Just another day
in the city of Lima.
The first week I
was here I thought, Oh - so we work next to a construction site, no big
deal. What I didn't know is that the whole city of Lima is a construction
site. 24/7.... 365.
Noise Noise
Noise. It is probably the only thing that I just can't get used to.
It isn't just the office, it is every restaurant, taxicab, street, public
building, bank, pharmacy....everywhere. All restaurants have a television
BLARING for the patrons. Taxi drivers turn the music or talk radio up
LOUD every time I get in their cab, for my entertainment pleasure I'm
sure. Banks and waiting areas always have TVs with "You're on Candid
Camera" videos on repeat. In the bus stations, the auto-repeat for
"please do not leave baggage unattended" or "Bus 6 for Ica is
departing now" is DEAFENING.
When I hear
something like the serenade of a car alarm at 5:00 am right under my bedroom
window, I jump out of my skin. When I'm walking along the street and a
jackhammer starts its pounding one meter from my head, I feel like my insides
are vibrating. Remember that episode of the Simpsons? "Mr.
Spritz goes to Washington" where the airplanes kept flying over the
Simpson's home and they had to get legislation passed to change it? There
is a scene where Marge and Homer are sitting on their couch and just can't
handle the noise anymore. That is how I feel.
I think this is what I look like. |
I swear that I
now have noise sensitivity, otherwise known as Hyperacusis. What a
stupid thing, no? I just want quiet. Davis, poor thing, all he
wants to do is practice his skateboarding tricks outside our front door, but I
just can't handle it. The sound of his wheels on the concrete send me
spinning. He wants to practice the drums. No way. I'm
depriving him of his little boy rights!
When I travel
into the field, it is so much better. I've written before about Soto
Island and the complete absence of man-made noises. That was the first
time I have rested, like for real. Like my brain didn't have to process
any other sounds and I could just chill.
I don't know why
this is so important to me. But it really is. City living is tough
on me. It isn't just noise, but smog and lots of people. People are
everywhere, like 9 million of them. I was crammed so tightly into a
public bus once that the only respite I could get was to finally wiggle my arm
out the window, face smashed against the glass, one arm dangling out going 70
miles an hour and me just praying that I didn't lose the arm to either another
bus, random road sign, or pole.
And the
traffic. Lordhavemercythetraffic. Getting into a Lima taxi
takes a leap of faith all on its own. They all drive with two feet.
Whiplash all day. The road signs and lines on the road and red lights are
all merely suggestions. Pedestrians and bicyclists are on their own; my
husband has a metal plate in his collarbone to prove it. There have been
multiple times that I was certain I was going to die. My tactic for
surviving this is simply to pray. And accept that if it is my time to go,
it is my time to go.
Sometimes it’s fun. In a sick and twisted sort of
way. Like "I might die today!" kind of fun. I don't
understand why there aren't dead bodies piled on the sides of the roads.
Part of me
really embraced the chaos at first. And still do to a certain
extent. I know that this place has its own sense of order and structure
and while I can fit in to survive - my body and brain just haven't found
contentment in the madness of this beautiful city. And it is. It is
beautiful. Don't hear me wrong. Lima is full of history and has
people making-out everywhere and everyone is usually so nice and the food is
delicious and I could go on and on.....
But
they've either been born and raised in the noise, or become accustomed to it
and I simply have not. I respect you, people of Lima. You have all
my respect.
I guess
I'm just ready to get back to my corner of the world where the loudest thing I
hear on most days is the cheer of Davis' baseball team when he hits a home
run.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Slipping Away, What Can I Say?
Won't you stay
inside me month of May? And hold on to me golden days....slippin'
away....
JT has been my
solid go-to man this whole year. At the end of this post I'll link to the song
that inspired today’s post and that I've listened to in every corner of this
country when I needed a pick-me-up. There were many developments in May
and I've got some photos and thoughts that have been building that I want to
share. And today, something happened that made me just take a picture and
write a blog post.
We'll start with
the most important part: Hair. Last year I told you that we three
were committing to leaving our hairs uncut for the entire year. Well, we
did, mostly. BC couldn't see through his camera lens half the time for
photo jobs and needed an occasional trim up front, which required an occasional
trim in the back to ensure we didn't have a mullet.
Remember
his "before" photo and then what I expected him to look like
in one year?
Here was BC just before we moved. |
Here is what I expected him to look like after one year. |
Aaaand reality: BC, doin what he loves most. Handsome as ever. Not Jackson Browne, but that's okay. |
Remember me? This was me on July 4, 2012 the day I left the USA for Peru:
Shoulder length, no bangs, full of hope..... |
Well here is me now! And with my dear friend Carmen. Still got some hope... |
We
were visiting a project in the community of Chilcapata near Lake
Titicaca. They welcomed us with the flowers and confetti. Re Hair -
I got some bangs, and a keratin treatment to combat the Lima humidity. But
it still grew....quite a bit. I'm digging it.
And
last but not least, the D-Train. See his before picture above. Something
kind of funny happened with Davis' hair journey: The school prohibited
it. We got multiple notes and formal notices that "Davis must cut
his hair." So much for that! So he had to get regular
cuts. But we pushed the limit every time as much as we could and made
them make us. So there. Here is a real 'before and after' of one of
his required school cuts.
How cute is this guy? |
That is our hair
journey, consider yourself up to date.
Anyway, May was
busy and lots of changes happened. First, Bryan's grandfather passed away
which was very sad for him and his family. Aaaaand, our renters in our
home in Little Rock just UP and decided that they didn't want to pay rent
anymore and wanted to leave. There were and are lots of technical
components to this, but it turned out, the best thing for Bryan to do to manage
it all was to head back to the USA. So he did. BC left the second
week in May for Little Rock to be with his family and close down all the
legalities of our rental situation. He also headed back to finally see
the cutest dog in the world.
Blurry, but happy. |
You may be
wondering "But Jessica, how are you doing it all now?
Alone?" (You may not be wondering, but whatever.) And the
short answer is, I'm doing it just fine. I hired a maid which is very
common in Peru. She picks D up from school and is at our house with him
until I get home from work. Four hours a day. Long story
short: When I come home from work every day, my son is safe and sound,
his homework is done and his chores are done. When I come home from work
every day, my house smells like freshly cooked Peruvian food and dinner is laid
out on the table. When I come home from work every day, my entire house
is spotless and all my laundry is clean and put away.
Need I say
more?
Yep, lots of
changes. But these changes have forced me to make adjustments that have
paid off. I have a renewed sense of independence and a totally different
feeling now with him gone. Eleven months ago if I didn't have Bryan's
hand to hold, I probably would've collapsed at every turn. But now, I
know the language better, have connections and friends to help me, am traveling
less with work.... it is just easier. I'm much more comfortable
with life in this giant city. Life has taken on a groove and I am thriving.
It has given me
a renewed sense of ability. I am doing this. I am living in a
different country, speaking a different language and living a completely
different life than I ever thought I was capable of. And it ain't so
bad.
Still, we miss
Bryan. And the days are quickly winding down towards our return. D
flies back to the USA the first week in July. I head back the second week
in July. Re-entry will have its own set of challenges....but I'm looking
forward to tackling them too. Just like I did the ones here. In the
meantime, here is the last family shot of us. Taken along the Malecon at
sunset on the Costa Verde in Lima.
So now to why I was inspired to write today. Well, my necklace broke. And so did my heart just a little. About two years ago I purchased one of those "mom" necklaces for myself for Mother's Day that has your child's birthday, name and birthstone and I wore it all the time. Then I lost it. Then BRYAN found it for me and I covered him in kisses. It has special meaning to me.
The night before I left for Peru (July 3 to be exact) my sister gave me a silver ring for my year here. It was something she'd worn every day for years and even had a tan line without it. She told me I could wear it or tuck it away or do whatever, and I opted to put it on my necklace. Then while traveling in Cusco this year, I found a "Spiral of Life" charm that represents the never ending cycle of life and the path to our creator - the spiral is found all over Peru in nature, Nazca, Aztec drawings, art, tapestries... I loved the mother-of-pearl design and felt like it belonged on my neck alongside my son and sister's love. I have worn this every day in Peru. It has been my security blanket. In meetings, while waiting in lines, in taxis, in bed, all the time, I play with it. I reach for it constantly and mindlessly toy with each little piece. I know exactly how it feels, and how it makes me feel. It has been a constant reminder of my priorities and all of the love and goodness that surrounds me on this planet and from above.
It broke
today. Just the chain, and I don't have another one here to replace
it. Thank God the pieces didn't get lost because I might've just melted
down like the green witch.
The last month
of my journey will be without my last remaining security blanket. First
Bryan is gone, then my necklace. Weird what we hold onto, no? For
some reason, it seems appropriate. That the smallest, last piece of home
that I've been holding onto for security and comfort won't be accessible
anymore. It means that I only have myself. And my strength and
comfort must come from within. And that, my friends is what this year in
Peru has all been about.
Slipping away, what can I say?
Won't you stay inside me month of May,
And hold on to me golden days, slipping away.....
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