This whole city is dedicated to going to the beach

I am in Florianópolis agora mesmo... as we speak or read or type or whatever.

I am living in a house that is straight out of a Pottery Barn catalogue.
There are:

A lake in the front yard.
An Atlantic ocean in the back yard.
Two very large grassy yards.
Two very large German Shepard watch dogs.

Alright. Thats all for now. More later. Tchauzinho....

First Impressions and a little context

I wanted to give you all my first impression comparisons of Sao Paulo with Lima.
Sao Paulo is clean and orderly. This city has a lot of money. You can drink water from the faucet. People obey the traffic lights. The sky is sunny. Im not getting suffocated by pollution. When we drive through the city, there are nice, new shiny cars. The buses are also shiny and new. People are not honking their horns all the time.
In Lima, the opposite of all of the above is generally true, depending on where you are.
Also, one really special thing about Lima is that you can pretty much get all of your products and documents as knock-offs or pirated goods or fake copies. Easily. without looking very far.
For example(s):
-You always need to check your bills and your coins because there is a very probable chance that it will be fake. Ive gotten fake money before. They do a pretty impressive job though.
-There is a street in the center of Lima called Azangarro where they replicate pretty much anythinng you want done- graduation certificates, identification cards, official letters, whatever. I already have plans of what documents I want fabricated.
- There is a place called La Cachina, like organized buildings, filled with stolen and second-hand goods: clothes, camping and hiking gear, cell-phones, laptops, iPods, shoes, everything. Ive been there. I bought a backpack.

As of right now, it seems like the easy access to a market like the one in Lima is just not as available or as necessary for a lot of the residents here. Because these people have money. But, when I make my final assessment of the black market situation, Ill let you all know.

Now for the context.
Im staying at my friend Mariah's dad's and stepmom's house in Sao Paulo. Mariah goes to school in Madison and was in Lima studying at La Catolica with me. Mariah's dad is a Brazilian who has lived in Sao Paulo for the last 20 some years. Next Monday we are going to Florianópolis to stay on the beach with the family of Mariah´s stepmom for a little more than a week. After that I will be venturing up to Bahia to spend the rest of my time here until I head back to Peru.

Also, when I come back, I hope to have a very very impressive collection of Brazilian music from Mariah's dad, who has one of my favorite music collections Ive ever seen.

"Llora llora cagon, llora llora cagon...

...llora concha tu madre que nunca vas a salir campeon."

Those are the rather inappropriate words to one of my favorite songs we got to sing in la trinchera norte (the section where all the sketch-ball uber intense fans of La U sit) last Sunday during the championship game.
Here's the website: www.trincheranorte.com
And guess what? La U won. we won! But you know what? Somebody said to me the other day (a Brazilian), said he didn't like Peruvian soccer that much because the play so crazy and disorganized. And after seeing this last game, I would really have to agree. I felt like they were just running around the field playing some sloppy sloppy soccer. But it was cool. And I had a lot of fun. And I learned in what contexts it's appropriate to use the insult "concha tu madre"
Speaking of which, I have another story.

This morning, I went to Miraflores to say goodbye to my friend Nina who is traveling and will be gone by the time I leave for Brazil. So, there she- tall and blonde and very fair skinned- and I-very gringa- were walking down the street to go and get some breakfast. And it was apparently a bad day in terms of unwanted Peruvian attention because, by the time we had walked to and almost back from breakfast, at least 4 guys and had made some type of stupid comment. Well, I was really tired (as in I hadny slept very much) and I says to Nina:
"The next guy that says something, I'm gonna walk up to him, and I'm gonna kill him, I swear to God."
Well Nina didn't believe me, but sure enough, 2 minutes later, one of the dudes in a combi a cobrador, says something like "wowwwww........." as we walked past. And, although I didn't kill him, I gave him the finger. And then when he was like, "Oh yeah, me gusta." And so I was like, "huevon!" which is another insult. and then when he kept on with his nonsense, I screamed at him "concha tu madre!" which is, as I said, a rather strong and offensive insult, and with that, everyone who was there on the street turned their heads and looked at me, and the combi drove away, and I continued walking in the other direction. And that was it.

Thankfully, I am in Sao Paulo right now. Brazil. And here, there are black people and white people and morenos and blonde people with dark brown eyes and dark haired people with light green eyes. Which means, I dont immediately look like a gringa. And therefore, I dont feel like a mutant while Im here. Which is one of the most wonderful feelings I have felt in a long time. And people dont pay attention to me at all... it is fabulous. And so is the sun here.

In a week, I will be going to the beach in the South for a week. to Florinapolis. I believe it will be magical. Even more magical than Sao Paulo.

Y dale U!

I'm back with some real stories.
1.
Yesterday I went to my first soccer game ever! And you know which one it was? It was el clasico. It's like the last game of the Peruvian playoffs in soccer. And you wanna know which teams made it? Lima's two biggest teams: La U (Universitario) and Alianza. I belong to La U. Well, me and Coco (a guy, that I am kind of seeing... Coco is the nickname for Jorge) went together. The game was in a barrio (neighborhood) called La Victoria, which happens to be a little (a lot) on the sketchy side. Usually, I'm definitely down for going to those places when I'm with Peruvians but this time, I thought to myself: "What am I doing here? I am going to be the onnnnnly gringa in the whole place." And in the section we sat in, I'm pretty sure I was. It was what you would imagine the student section would be where everyone is standing up and most of the people are young and rambunctious.... Except here, everybody tends to be a little more... a little less affluent than the nice white kids you find at Madison football games. And I'm pretty sure the vast majority aren't in college.
But you know what? Nobody, nobody, nobody said a thing to me. Nobody did anything. Because I was with a Peruvian obviously, but it's crazy because when I'm by myself, even in the fancy smancy places like miraflores, guys are always making stupid-ass comments and whistling at me.
Well anyways, the game was great! I got to sing really fun, vulgar songs hating on the other team. And cheer and eat peanuts and stuff. And I got to marvel at the 14,000 officers from the national police force that showed up to take part in the festivities. Yep. 14,500, to be more precise. They decided to come hang out with their riot gear, horses, ak-47s, cars, and tanks because the violence during games like this in the past has been a little out of hand. There were police EVERYWHERE. and they were serious. They did not take any shit from anyone. But everybody was safe and sound at the end of the day- even the gringas! And you know who won? La Uuuuuuuu!
Afterwards me and Coco and his two friends went to Barranco where we bought some rum and coke and had a celebratory drink or 3. And, since you cant really officially drink in public in Barranco, every time the serenazgo (local police of the district) walked past, one of the guys hid the bottle of rum under is jacket. But on 5th time he walked past, he asked to try a sip of our drinks, and when we were found out, one of our friends pulled out the bottle of rum and invited the officer to a celebratory drink for the victory of La U! And I was like "Ok, let's go." And so we left. And that was it. And then I went home. Safe and happy and a real soccer fan.

2.
The day before that, my friend Mathias (who goes to Madison and just finished studying in Chile) stopped by Lima for about 22 hours. It was great! Me and my friend Nina took him all around Lima to everything authentically Peruvian: drink beers while walking around in public, drink Pisco sours in this fancy smancy hotel, ride the combi a WHOLE bunch, eat chifa (Peru's standardized menu of chinese food available everywhere and anywhere), go to Trapiche and drink super strong fruity drinks from the jungle, and dance to cumbia and salsa and reggaeton, and that's it. The next morning, we ate Chicharron (which is some sort of pork product, the social equivalent of what Bacon is for Americans). And then we said goodbye.
One additional fun fact about that story goes like this:
While we were buying Peru's sweetest, most delicious dark beers in a corner store, I ran into a Peruvian that I had met a week back at a Capoeira workshop. The thing is, this Peruvian was only there at the workshop to accompany a blonde, very gringa looking girl (who was actually from Denmark). Well, at that workshop, when I saw him, the first thing I thought was: "Man!That is a brichero if I have ever seen one!" And at the end of the workshop when I struck up a little conversation with the dude, he was like, "So, why don't you give me your number?" And I was like.... "Uhhh.... no."
Anyways, so here we are at the corner store, a week later, and I see this dude and I think to myself, "Oh man! I can't believe I ran into this guy again." And we were talking and he was like, "I'll be down there selling my artesania... you an your friends should come and talk to me." And I agreed and then we parted ways. Well, we went down there (by the ocean, at like 10pm) and I didn't see him.
But we (me mathias and Nina) stopped on a bridge to drink our beers. Little did I know that at the very second the guy from the corner store would approach us, a big band of 20 teenagers were going to come walking by us gringos without any warning. And so, the moral of the story is, this Brichero that I had met a week earlier, that I ran into at a corner store, effectively saved our asses from getting into quite a messy situation in which we would have been f-ed. He was a Peruvian, brichero angel, probably sent from Maria, madre de Dios, que siempre me acompana.

My semester's over. I'm getting my act together. and I leave for Brazil in 10 days. Things are good. And I feel fine. And the next soccer game of the championship is this Sunday.... Dale U!!!

See where I come from, you gotta be about... First Semester Reflexions

Lil Wayne once said:
"(Man they just) talkin bout it [x2].
And I'm on the streets with it [x2]
See where I come from, you gotta be about it.
And if you want it (want it) we come and see about it."

And this frustration, my friends, I, too, have felt so very often. Let me explain.

It's nearly the end of my first semester here (I have three days left of finals next week) and I feel like I can finally draw some conclusions about what I have experienced thus far.

1. A lot of times, so many times, people here just talk and talk and talk. They even have great ideas that, were they to be carried out, could be awesome realities. But what happens is that people talk about so much stuff, for so long, that a) things just never happen b) The idea does materialize but in a way that is half is cool as what it could have been or c) Things happen but hours, days or weeks later than planned.

I feel like in Wisconsin, we had ideas, we talked about them, we made an adecuate analysis of the effort and requirements needed to make them happen, and then we did what we said we were going to do, and we did it well. Not always, but a lot of the time

Which is why when Lil Wayne says, "They just talkin bout it (peruvians)... See where I come from (Madison) you gotta be about it (actually do something)," I can really, really identify.
But hey, I know there's a lot of talk up there too. It's just that there's more here it seems like.

2. Our education system is a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Some of you may happen to know that I have a love affair with my college education, and when I'm here, I realize it more and more.
When I went to La Catolica, I thought, "yeah, this is a nice campus. Standard. small libraries. Books. tiny computer labs. yeah. This should be fine." It's on par with your average university in the United States.
But, when I talk with the exchange students from Cusco who describe their university that doesn't have updated materials or adecuate classrooms, and the students lock the professor out of the room so he can't give the exam and their professors are on strike right now and they're more than a semester behind and they describe La Catolica as "a paradise." All I can do is sit there and think, I don't know what to think.

3. There sure is a lot of noise and pollution and humidity in this city

4. It really is normal to live with your family until your early thirties if you're still not married

5. You better watch out, you better not cry, you better think twice, I'm telling you why... Quieren (They want) aprovechar (take advantage of) y (and) enganar (deceive) you. So don't really, actually, for sure trust anyone until you really actually for sure think you know what type of person they are.
I mean. This is a good thing to do no matter where you are, obviously, but especially here.

6. After my class about kinship and social relations and being in Peru where family is so central to everything, I think I'm done trying to live such an independent, isolated, detached existance. In fact, I'm getting really excited to come back and try out my new frame of mind!

Alright, well, that's it, really. Once finals are over, I won't be so boring and I'll have more ridiculous things to tell you about when I go on more adventures.

Mary

Just an update for all of you sly foxes that thought you could snag one of those Mary shirts...

I can't get you one!

Hahaha.
I'm sorry. So many of you have asked me, and the truth is that someone give it to me as a gift and he found it at least 10 years ago and has searched far and wide ever since, only to always come up empty handed.

But, rest assured, I'll have my eyes peeled for the next 8 months. 8 months! hahaha.

Maybe I'll stumble across something like that when I go visit Jesus in Rio.

(I Stand) Corrected and other Clarifications

Hey hey hey. These are things I've learned in reference to statements or observations I've made in previous posts that I was wrong about or that are in need of clarification

1. Peru's abortion laws aren't the absolute most restrictive in South America. According to one lady on the panel for a legalizing abortion debate at La Catolica, Chile allows abortion under no circumstances while Peru allows it in cases where the women's life is endangered.

Also, there really is a debate going on in this country about abortion. I've been seeing sides for meetings and discussions and such pertaining to both sides of the argument... mostly inside of La Catolica, but outside too.

Also, Mariah went to a place called Los Olivos and homemade signs (think microsoft office style) straight-up advertising the services of an abortion doctor. And she's also talked with people that have said that getting abortions here is super common.

2. I said I didn't know why there were only men at that one bar I went to (where we finished an entire bottle of Pisco)... It was because of the lighting. At that place the lighting is really bright and the whole point is to go there and talk and debate and be comfortable if you happen to be two men going out for a drink; that, as opposed to going to some place with dark lighting where the objective is going home with the other person at the end of the night.

3. People DO drink there hard alcohol with soda... like rum and coke. It may be that if someone invites you to have a drink with no mixer or chaser, their intentions are a little questionable...

4. At la Catolica at least, there's always lots of signs and conversastions about LGBT issues and women's rights and violence against women, so it's not always SO heterosexual all the time.

5. Not everybody is Catholic (obviously). There is a considerable population of Evagelicals here. And Mormons too. In fact, I met both just the other week. However, I'm deciding to align my identity with the Catholic side of things. Now that I have my own personal saint, have a really cool shirt that has a huge image of Mary on both sides, and have attended 3 catholic processions for patron saints, I'm really starting to get a feel for it.

Anything else you would care to clarify for me or ask? I am always willing to consider the fact that I am not being fair or clear or specific enough or just wrong.

Stuck in the middle with you.... yes, here I am.

The other day, I finally responded to one of Wallin's messages after a half-month unintentional hiatus, but, as I wrote, I finally admitted to myself in writing that, the more time I spend here, the more evident it is that there is no way ever I would want to be Peruvian, especially a Peruvian girl, and also that there is no way I will ever be the same American I used to be... At this point, I look at the pros and the cons of both sides and all I can think about was the idea that Bob Dylan so eloquently articulated, but applied to me in a more metaforical sense...
"Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, and here I am, stuck in the middle with you."
And there Wallin and I are, stuck in the middle of two countries, and in my case at least, two frames of mind.

And I'm serious I feel like there's clowns to the North of me whenever I read those godforsaken Yahoo headlines that show up when I'm checking my mail and jokers to my right when I listen to Peruvians telling me one thing and doing another.
So that's that.

Uhhhh, esssdeeeee, about the trip that I was supposed to talk about in this post... I'll just say that every time I go to the moutains, I love it more than the last. And I will also say that we took some pictures with a non-digital camera that I really hope to get on a computer so you can all see. And I'm actually serious about that. The greens and the blues up there are so vivid it seems like a dreeeeam.

Remember when I said a while ago that I felt like I was in high school when I was watching those bands play at my school? Well, I've been talking with the other exchange students and they feel the same way too. That these people are in high school. Seriously. It's weird. Think about being 20 and in your third year of college, going back to high school.... bummmmerrrrr. THANKFULLY, though, since I can't understand Spanish very well when Peruvians talk amongst themselves, I don't have to listen to whatever high school nonsense they are talking about. All of the above, unfair, far-too-broad generalizations, but that's just how the cookie crumbles.

In other news, there is a song by Sublime that goes "Every day I love her just a little bit more and she loves meeeeeee the same." And, as some of you may know, that exact situation has been my problem for the last 5 years, and even in this country, it hasn't seemed to change one bit. I'll let you all know when/if it does.

Moments ago, I just got done talking to my family, and I admitted to myself that gender roles are ok. Can you believe I just wrote that?! Gender roles are ok. I'm actually ok with them, even in this machista, heterosexual country, I feel like I'm ok with doing what girls are "supposed" to do and guys doing what they're supposed to do. That's just how it is... although I may not feel particularly inclined to follow the rules all the time.

Also, along those lines, I read one of my friends facebook statuses that said, "boxes are f-ed up" as a reference to the limitations that society puts on people and the negative effects that result... right? I think so.
Well, even though I tend to agree, I realize here, that I actually don't mind the boxes. In fact, I think those boxes sometimes exist to give people a sense of belonging, direction, understanding of who they maybe are (or would like to be) and what is required of them. And that, although society may be telling you who you should be and what you should do and how you should act or dress, that in certain places in the world (maybe not in America), if you follow those rules (and you appreciate those rules and values of that particular place), that sense of belonging and understanding and acceptance and guidance you get in return can be absolutely worth it...

Some bad things about Peru....

...just to be fair.
I know I spent the last post hating on America, like I always do. But don't worry. There are plenty of times that I hate on this country too. For example...

- There is no potable drinking water anywhere. But there are plastic water bottles littering the streets and the mountains and the beaches everywhere.
- Politics here are corrupt as hell.
- Ketchup and Mustard here are gross
- Sometimes, it happens that everybody here takes sooooo long to make a decision or do something or go somewhere, and then all of a sudden, the people are like "Come on! Let's go! We have to hurry and get our act together... blah blah blah."
- Lima has the ugliest sky I have ever seen in my entire life.
- People are always trying to sell you stuff everywhere you go.
- I feel like, the more time I spend in this city, the more frigid my demeanor becomes and the less open my heart is... Which sucks! Because I was already pretty cold and mildly heartless to begin with.
- Everbody here is always trying to take advantage of everybody else.

Those were just some highlights.

The next post, I hope to share with all of you a happier tale of my weekend adventure to a tiny pueblo in the mountains that can only be reached on foot. It was beautiful and amazing and oftentimes surreal. Until then!

Lost in Translation... and other Rid.ic.u.lous. nonsense

Sometimes when I'm here, I feel like I understand things.
And then, someone explains something to me again, a little slower, a little more simply, and I realize, "ohhhh. I really didn't understand it at all the first time." Which clearly means that there is an unbelievable amount of things that I am missing all the time.
And then, the other day, we were watching a video in my class where the dialogue was in French and the subtitles in English, and the narrator was saying some really brilliant, profound things about the caste system and the social relationships in India in comparison to Western society. And I asked my friends, who understand some English, if they understood what the guy was saying. And they said, "ohhh, more or less." And I thought to myself, "If that was their response, there is no way they really understood the implications of everything that had been said."
And then, in that moment, I really felt what it meant to be lost in translation.
It's like, the words here, yes, I can understand them. But fitting them into a social, historical, political, pop culture, geographic context and pairing all of that with a certain intonation and facial expressions and taking into account the perspectives of the people involved in a conversation is a whole different story.
And, from there, one might begin to understand why I have so much trouble relating my experiences to all of you in spoken words when I talk to some of you on Skype. Pretty much all of you who are reading this have no conception of the foundations that my reality is based on right now, and concepts that we understand as they exist in the United States just do not exist in the same way here. And this reality and its foundations and nuances are, just like in the United States, unbelievably complex.
And I am overwhelmed by them. Never in my life has the confusion and complexities and lack of words and ocean of thoughts swirling around in my mind left my brain feeling so full. Sometimes it feels like, physically, there is no space left in my head to carry out the task of understanding things and all I can do is ruffle my hair over and over and massage my temples and squeeze my eyes shut so I don't have to take in any more of my surroundings. It is the weirdest feeling I have ever felt in my whole life. It is such a physical feeling that results from such an abstract process.
But anyways... by now, if you have gotten this far, you are thinking... "But what is she talking about?! What is the problem?"
And I would like to give you some concrete examples... but I'm afraid all I have are more abstractions and ambiguities and social constructions.

For. example.
In America. "We" or rather, it, is all about: technology and new things and latest vesions and fashionable antything and computers and fast and straighforward and and now or never and fast and on-the-go and multi-tasking and not waiting and squeeky clean and lemony fresh and genetically engineered, pretty, shiny produce and more than anything... progress.
Oh, how we love progress.
(In Peru. sometimes it is a joke to think what petty, trivial, meaningless concerns all of the above are! There is no room to think about such insignificant, superficial nonsense)
And even more than all of that, I suppose... individualism. Individualism! with a capital I and an exclamation mark and the whole-hearted support of everybody in the whole country (it seems). And to go right along with that, Independence. It's like salt and pepper, peanut butter and jelly, Ken and Barbie, those two ideas: Individualism and Independence. Think about it:
Beyonce sings about the independent women, and we have Independence day, and the clothing advertisements tell you to express yourself, and conformity is looked at with a disaproving scoul, and Oprah talks with people who made their own way in America, and everybody has their own, personalized everything.
These two concepts are so engrained, so valorized, so prized, and so expected (at least my brain) that I can't think of a time when I stopped to think.... "Oh. Maybe this whole 'individualism/be independent' thing isn't so great after all." In fact, I spent the last three years thinking about what the hell I was going to do to get out of my parents' house(s), stop depending on anyone, do whatever I want, consult with no one, and deal with the consequences of my excesively individual, independent actions all alone. And, thats just what I did.

And now, here I am.
And I realize:
"Here, you just can't be independent sometimes." Not even if you wanted to. In some places. You can't support yourself no matter how hard you try or how many hours you work. And you can't walk alone at night. And you can't trust anybody. And you have to have people who you can go to, because you don't have authorities you can trust (believe me) or a bank account to take money out of or free potable drinking water wherever you go.
And I realize:
It's ok to depend on people. to have a family you have to make difficult sacrifices for. to be able to support someone else and have someone support you.
And:
It's really not that important assert your individuality and distinguish yourself from everyone else. In fact, it is incredible to think how ridiculously selfish and absorbed and narrow-minded it can be to be so worried about something like that so much.
I guess, what I'm trying to say is that Americans overall willingness to sacrifice for the collective wellbeing of society as a whole is shockingly absent (at least from my south-of-the-equator perspective). I'm not talking about individual people- because yeah, there's people that go and volunteer and do great, selfless things with their lives. But, America's impact here is immense, and few Americans would know it. America doesn't ask, but demands that other countries makes space for its culture, and politics, and stores, and fashions, and ways of life. But how much space does it make for others when they ask the same in return? And when does America take into account the rupture and confusion and conflict that inevitably results from its abrupt, harsh imposition into another region's people, context and history? And where are the means to deal with that?
I'm just saying. In America, the impact of one's actions on other people just doesn't resonate as strongly as it doesn here and the true profundity of how interconnected we all, as humans, living on one, very tiny planet are just doesn't hit home a lot.

Yes. All of the above are generalizations. But what else am I supposed to do? Of course there are exceptions. But how much of an impact are those exceptions making on the collective conscious of the most powerful country in the world? It seems like very little. America worries about America while everybody else. everybody else. worries about America too.

Sometimes I feel like, if I could tell America something, if I could tell it to confront the reality that it is helping create inside and outside of its borders, within the hearts of its citizens and without consulting the rest of the world, I would say that
"It seems to me, that you don't want to talk about it. It seems to me, that you just turn your pretty head and walk away."

I can't dance, I can't talk, the only thing about me is the way that I walk.

Last night I went to see a play called La Chunga by Peruvian writer, Mario Vargas Llosa. Have you heard of him? You haven't?! And now you're probably going to tell me you don't know who Michael Jackson is either!... ok ok. Just kidding. Of course you haven't heard of him, Vargas Llosa, that is.
Anyways, there was a lesbian in the play. In fact, she was the main caracter! And her performance was, really, very rivetting. Among some of the highlights were drinking, nudity, seuxal content, trading money for sexual favors, violence, machismo, bad language, and lots of cigarettes.
And the/a moral of the story? I'm not quite sure, but for me, it had something to do with liberarting yourself from the oppresive, machista society that is holding you down and abusing you and making you a dependent, stupid, worthless barbie. Oooooof. Sounds like pretty heavy stuff. But it was really fun to go and see.
In fact! Before hand, this is what we did:
We went to a grocery store that could have been any grocery store in America with Haloween decorations and employees with little food samples that you eat with toothpicks and bought three beers. Then we left and walked to the Bibloteca Nacional (where the play was) and we walked and drank our cans of beer. In public, on the sidewalk, on the overpass, and then sitting outside of the entrance to the venue on the sidewalk.
And afterwards this is what we did:
We went to a grocery store, bought a large bottle of beer to share and then walked across the street to get on a bus to go to the center of Lima. And we drank our beer on the sidewalk and on the bus. And that was that. And it was good. Just like God says!

Then, we walked up this street to this bar. I like this street very very much because there is a LARGE grafitti painting of Jesus/Che. It is Jesus and Che Guevarra all at the same time! It is brilliant and it is fabulous and colorful. I hear that those two rascals were.... Socialists! No! Not Jesus. Jesus was a....let's see... capitalist, fair and square.
Anyways, I would really like to take a picture someday, but I'm a little scared. Oh well.

In this bar. We bought a whole bottle of Pisco. think... like... the size of a bottle of Smirnoff and equally as potent. And we were like, "Oh yeah, we'll just drink some of it now and save the rest for some other time." Bahhhh hahahaha. That was wishful thinking.
Anyways, we sat down at the bar, and there was this REALLY wasted dude sitting on the barstool right next to me. And we were at the bar in the first place because all the tables were taken. Well, this dude kept trying to talk to be and interrupt our conversation. And I was with only one other person, a male, and this drunk as a skunk huevon, STILL, kept trying to interrupt, all mumbly and stumbly and ridiculous. Let me just say. If one girl is with one boy, it is absolutely NOT in the "Do's" section of etiquette rulebook that you are allowed to hit on the girl. Well, one of the guys working there was kind enough to move us to another table in the back of the place. And there, we began to drink this bottle of Pisco. And you know what? The concept of a chaser, Like, take a shot, chase it with soda, does not exist here. You just have to grin and bear it here, in the most literal sense of the expression. Imginense, drinking an entire bottle of rum with no chaser. Well, I know a few people who are good at that. But not me. Well, I am now.
Anways, I looked around and thought to myself, "Where are all the ladies?"
This bar was filled with men. Like, groups of guys, colleaques, friends, whatever, and, in like the whole place, there were about 10 women. The ratio was like 100 to 1. It was weird. I didn't understand. But it was a cool place. And at the very end, we were talking to these two business men, about something that I really could not understand at all, and all I could think about was, "I need to eat something right. now."
We finally stumbled out of the bar around 3 am, I think, and got in a taxi, and found a place to eat.
And, while my compatriot was in the bathroom for the better portion of the hour that we were there, I was sitting in this booth, by myself, happily eating my chicken and fried rice, watching this big screen TV that had VH1 on, listening to Phil Collins sing "I can't dance" and the Velvet Underground sing "Rock and Roll" and watching everybody around me with their expressions on their faces thinking "What is this drunk gringa doing here, sitting by herself, while that dude with the long hair is puking in the bathroom?" It was really weird and kind of enjoyable. And, anyways, if my Karma clock is working properly, it's my turn to take care of drunk people that outdo themselves, after an entire year in Madison of everybody else taking care of me. But, after all was said and done last night, one thing is for sure:
I like American music!

Family... and where, did you sleep, last night.

So, whenever I get emails from people, they always ask,
"SO... how's the family?!"
And I usually say something like...
"Oh, yeah, they're fine, you know. They are really helpful and such and have taught me a lot. blah blah blah..."
Obviously, that doesn't really mean anything to anybody, so now I'll clarify and also, give you the social context here, because "family" here is WAY different. Especially once you start understanding what is going on in this ridiculous country.

First, in comparison to America, the land of the free, nobody here gets divorced! Of course there are some people with divorced parents. But let's be honest. The number of divorces that I have experienced or am aware of just amongst my immediate family members is three times as many divorces as I have heard of in two months here. My host parents have been happily married for, I don't know, at least 15 years.

Everybody is Catholic! Of course there are some people that aren't catholics, but let's just say that in all of my time here, outside of La Catolica I have only met one Peruvian who said he was an "evangelist"... I think that equates to some type of Protestantism. My host family is Catholic. And in this case, that means they go to mass every Sunday, the parents and one daughter are part of this discussion group/faith/bible study community. In fact, they just got back from a retreat that lasted the weekend. Also, they have pictures of Jesus and various saints and Mary scattered around the house. Now, don't worry. It's not all about Jesus here all the time. If I dont bring up religion or church or anything, it's perfectly fine not to talk about. And it's perfectly fine that I don't go to mass, although I did once. And it was perfectly fine that I did. They are very nice.

Once upon a time, the dad of my family worked for an American mining company in a place called Ilo, to the South of Lima. There, the family lived and worked and went to school and did EVERYTHING (it seems) with other Americans. Their kids went to school with Americans and learned American history and they celebrated American holidays and lived in this isolated community on top of a hill where the mining company imported American everything- products, houses, teachers, values. The way Nancy (the mom) described it, it was like they were living in a fairy tale. And I believe it! This country, let me tell you, is NOT, America.
This part of their history is really important, because very very few Peruvians understand and have lived American culture, probably in it's most idealized form, like my family has. And that helps them understand "us" a lot better.
But also, it says A LOT, about their socioeconomic status... which is apparently, and quite obviously, FAR above the vast vast vast majority of the Peruvian population. If you work(ed) for a mining company and have professional American contacts, and both parents have a degree, and all the kids can speak English and can go to college, and you live in a quiet, residential, safe, neighborhood, you are doing SO good. As far as I'm concerned, I have it REALLY made, right now.

Now, if you know me, you probably know that I'm not really trying to climb to the upper ranks of any social or financial or racial hierarchy, so, while I'm here with this family, I'm enjoying it. But it is also a source of conflict for me, since, every day, I sit on the combi for an hour and watch "the rest" of Lima barely barely barely making it by and I talk with people about the realities of their existences and think about all that type of nonsense.
And also, if you know me, I am generally skeptical about "American values" and mining companies and corporations and Catholicism, so that is also interesting. But, while I'm here, I'm learning a lot from them and they treat us all very very well. In conclusion, the family is good, great, and it is probably what most students want, but I don't really think it's what I want.

Finally, did I mention this? Everybody lives with their parents. Even 30-year-olds. That's just how it is. Now, plug your ears, cover your eyes, or close your browser window if you don't want to read the next part (that deals with sex.... eeeek!), but this is SO interesting!
For us American college students, we live alone, or with our friends, or with our significant other... NOT with our parents (as a general rule). Asimismo, we don't have to worry about our parents if we decide to sleep with someone. That is NOT the case here. So... what do you do then? Obviously, people still have sex, right?.... right?! Right. Well after a few weeks of hypothesizing and inquiries, we Americans finally figured it out. You. a) Go to a hotel (specifically for having sex and decorated as such)... this is your most normal and frequented option, or b) You go back to their house with and meet their parents the next morning or c) You go back to their house and leave that night or d) You back to their house during lunch while everyone is working... or e) you just decide to be overly affectionate in public places (which is just how it is here, everywhere, all the time... in parks, on sidewalks, on the bus, at school... people reminding you of heternormativity EVERYWHERE).

And my final anecdote. I got back from Huaraz at 5:00am and I didn't want to take a taxi home. So I took a combi. On the bus, I sat myself directly behind a couple, who ended up making out, faces and tongues approximately 3 feet in front of mine, for a solid 10 minutes straight until one of them got off. It was a rivetting performance.

Everything, everything. in it´s right. place. in it's right. place.

So. Now I´ll explain everything (a little) better.

We went to this town in the moutains, right? Very close to where I went about a month earlier. In fact, that´s where we went first. And then on to Carhuaz...

Remember when I told you about the parade in downtown Lima celebrating the armed forces and the catholic church? Well, this festival was celebrating the very same saint.... except there were no armed forces involved this time... rather, and as a very fabulous replacement were the danzantes (dancers, or groups of dancers) that came from pueblos all around Carhuaz to celebrate the sensacional, miraculous, incredible Virgen who has bestowed limitless generocity and compassion on all the people of these communities over the last year. And when I say danzantes, I'm refering to groups of indigenous people, or people of indigenous descent, who wear traditional outfits, dancing traditional dances, that, at least to the foreigner, seem only very slightly related to anything dealing with the Catholic church. For example, there where the Atahualpas, Shacshas, Cuzqueñitas. and another type of dance that I can´t spell... and it reminded me very much of the Native American music and rituals that they teach you about in grade school and high school. Hopefully, but probably not, someday I´ll post some pictures.
Also, there was a lot of Chicha, a fermented drink, involved as well. Not as strong as Chuchuwasi (fermented drink from the Selva) but strong enough to put a goofy smile on my face and facilitate half-understood conversations with drunk old men.
Aside from that, we drank some rum, ate some cuy, did some other stuff, and got enough information about the Virgen, and then me and my compatriots, headed out for new lands and new adventures.

Me and one other boy, Pavel, went to Yungay, another small pueblo, so I could see Llanganuco, the Laguna that everybody knows about and plans on seeing. Well, we went, and I realized that I had already seen it the first time I had been in that part of the country, but didn't realize it. Regardless, it was still equally as amazing and breathtaking and tranquil and I loved it all the same. That night we satyed in a hostel. And the owner was an old lady, a grandma at least, with some very wise words, and some very good stories that she had aquired in her many years interacting with Peruvians and foreigners alike. And she told me...
"Ten cuidado.... los peruanos son muy amorosos pero muy celosos." Or something like...
"Be careful... Peruvian boys are very loving, but very jealous."
And those words, my friends, are some of the tried and truest words I can attest to in all of my time here. What an unfortunate combination of attributes! Maybe.

From there, I went back to Huaraz, where Pavel and I parted ways. I decided to go to some hot springs to waste time and bathe myself in some clean, hot, brown, natural water for two hours until the entirety of both of my hands were pruny like raisins. Thankfully, I had talked with one Peruvian enough for him to solicit my email address (and phone number of course) to which I gave the former and to which I will hopefully not respond. Also thankfully when I left, there was another Peruvian boy there who had come to the hot springs alone and was leaving alone, who had no plans (like me), and who hadn't eaten dinner. So, I went back with him and we meandered around and ate dinner at his friends house and had a very frank conversation about some very indepth things, and all the while, I felt very much at ease (which is usually not the case) and we had a good time. We went to this one bar for a short while where we watched these two ladies get into an intense fight. It was really weird. and funny. Like Jerry Springer. but real lilfe, and seriously right next to our table. Then my bus was about to leave for Lima, so I had to go. And before we parted ways, he solicited my email (and phone number of course) to which I give him the former and latter, and maybe someday, maybe in December, I'll go back and visit him, and see how life in the mountains is... and maybe, I will never see him again.

I´m not in Lima... I'm in Carhuaz

Hey. I haven't talked to anyone in at least three days, but rest assured, I'm doing splendidly. I am in this town in the mountains and we are celebrating la Virgen de las Mercedes... and this party is sick as hell. Seriously. I'll tell you more about it later, but it feels like everybody showed up. In fact, I'm pretty sure everybody did show up.

Ok. Well, Keep it real.

Sexual Politics and Gender Roles... make my head hurt.

Guys. I´m sorry, but I have to tell you about this aspect of life because it is so. fing. pervasive.

In the study abroad handbook, that Madison gave us, they forgot to put this section in. Which would have helped a great deal. All it said was something like, "The country you´re moving to may have different social rules for what men and women are expected to act like and what is viewed as proper and improper. So you should be careful when interacting with your host family and new friends." Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?! I´m about to tell you.

As always, these are all generalizations. So. yeah.

Boys. Boys here, are UNBELIEVEABLY persistent, straightforward, overly confident, and generally annoying. DO NOT. do not. give out your phone number. Unless you want them calling you ALL the time. Even when they agree that they will not call you, they still do.
Here´s an anecdote about what happened to me this weekend: My and two other girls went out with three guys. I started talking to one, who promptly, 3 minutes into the conversation, suggested that I go along with him to Chiclayo (north, on the coast I believe) to be his date for his cousin´s wedding. He would fly us there and I would meet his family and we´d have a grand old time. Later that night, we started talking about marriage. Yes. marriage, and the underlying implication... I was a great candidate for a wife! Oh. my. god.
Boys think that American girls are generally a. White b. Wealthy. c. Permiscuous and d. Attend La Católica. And why do you think boys here think that? It couldn´t have to do with Hollywood and MTV... could it? I don´t think so. hahaha.
Boys are also free to sleep with as many girls as the please. Much like the United States. Except here, it is manifested more as an obligation than an underlying social expectation.

Girls. Girls had better be monogamous and in a commited relationship if they are going to do so much as kiss a boy. And you know what we call girls who get around here? Perras. Which would translate to slut, not bitch. Girls do not kiss boys that they are not seeing. And also, you know how in the United States, there is this sort of trial period, between getting to know someone and officially dating, when you are more or less free to do as you please with no strings attached (or so we say)? That trial period is a genuinely foreign concept here, non-existent. It´s all or nothing. Obviously there are girls that don´t adhere to these standards, but not once in my time here have I found a Peruvian who is alright and accepting of a lifestyle like that. It´s always like, "Oh.... yeah... no, that´s not ok here..."

In other news, abortion laws here are ridiculous. Now, I know this is a touchy subject, but I think we all realize that there will be women killing their unborn children whether it is legal or not which is why I am so grateful, that women can go about it in a safe, healthy, clean, not sketchy way. Last week I found out that:

"Abortion in Peru is currently illegal except in case of the threat to the life or health of the woman. ^[1] A woman that consents to an abortion can be sentenced to up to 2 years in prison. A person that performs an illegal abortion can be sentenced to 1 to 6 years in prison.^[2]

Abortion has been generally illegal in Peru since 1924" (wikipedia... hahaha)

Mariah told me that, in her human sexuality class, her professor was telling stories: this woman was raped and she had to have the baby. There was also another woman who was going to have a baby with no brain and they made her have it. They are strict as hell here. I was a little distressed when I found all this out. And later that day I went to my history class and started talking to a girl about all this stuff. When I asked if she knew anyone who had gotten an abortion, she said, yeah.... her friend was seeing someone and got pregnant and found someone to do the procedure, and it all ended up fine. But it was hard to find someone to do it safely, since everything is under the table and informal and unregulated. Which means, even underage catholic girls have abortions too.

Thankfully, today as I was walking around campus, there where people dressed up as clowns (no joke) handing out pro-life propaganda. Like they need anymore support! They are on a catholic campus with the support of their conservative government that valorizes the non-separation of church and state, in a country with some of the most restrictive abortion laws in South America. Pro-Life, Peruvian Payasos. sweet.

Now, I´m just going to say... if guys are trying to have sex with as many girls as possible. And girls are supposed to do just the opposite. And if guys do not know how to take no for an answer, and girls have almost no public or social network for taking care of their sexual health (when it pertains to non-committed relationships at least), what happens when girls feel pressured, or just want, to sleep with these so god-damned persistent, machisto Peruvians? and what happens when they get pregnant? Well, they get to a) Have an under the table abortion b) Have the baby and be ostracized by the society that perpetuates such a ridiculous set of social rules or c) Marry the dad and, inevitably, live happily ever after. From my own personal experience and observations, choice c usually seems to work out the best.... ha.ha.

Nuestra Señora, Protectora de las Fuerzas Armadas

Ok.

1. If you want to post a comment, you have to sign in with your gmail account and then you can post all you want... can you believe those google douchebags... making you get a gmail account?! In fact, I think there is a good chance that they have the rights to everything I've typed here.

2. I´m just fine. Don't worry about the hazing inncident. It sucked for sure, but obviously I'm still here, and have probably been in more compromising situations.

3. Today there was a battle of the bands here. I was in high school again. There were the dready kids, the alternative kids, the kids smokin ciggz, the normal ones, the ones with little self confidence, and the rest. I didn´t stay to watch, because, surprise, I´ve had enough American music to last me 20 whole years of my life. Thankfully, there was a little Michael Jackson before the live performances commenced.

3. Then, after a great deal of indecision and flakiness on the part of all my group members for my ethnography project, I headed over to the center of Lima to watch the festivities for La Virgen de las Mercedes (which is what we´re studying for the project). We were all going to go, but then it just so happened, that I, the lone non-spanish speaker, was the only one to go. One person showed up later. But it was irrelevant. And also, the festivities weren't really a big deal. It was a type of parade that started in this church about 4 blocks away from the Plaza de Armas. And the parade was this giant statue/figure (like 15 feet tall maybe) surrounded by a whole bunch of members of the armed forces, some of the officials from the Catholic church, and then the normal Catholic celebrants, walking down the street, showing homage to the virgen, mercy-giver and redemptress of captives. But really, she is just the patron saint of the armed forces. So essentially I went to a parade celebrating the ties between the catholic church and Peru´s armed forces. Cool. I´m always down for celebrating two oppresive institutions both at the same time. score.

Collective Humiliation.

So last night I thought it would be a good idea to go and take part in the initiation of the students who are just beginning their anthropology majors (here, you have to take two years of courses in letras generales to get you ready, before you start taking classes in your major).

It was ridiculous, in a very very very unpleasant way. It was like the kind of stuff that was in the media several years ago about hazing in fraternities and sororities. I swear to god. To make a long story relatively short, they blindfolded us, tied our hands behind our backs, and for like, two hours, dumped all of this shit on us- eggs and food and paint and fish and sand and dirt- and it was night time and it was cold and then they dumped buckets of water on us and then made us do all this other ridiculous stuff. ughsgcjshcj;wva/o;j;vf. We smelled absolutely disgusting and were freezing the entire time. (Thankfully, there was a little Michael Jackson being played) Oliamos a mierda, de verdad. And then, they took us, all of us, in a bus, like the ones I take to school, to this other house, like 15 or 20 minutes away and then did some more stuff and then it was all over and we drank beers and listened to music and everyone, all of the anthro students, were nice to us and gave us hugs and conversation and cigarettes. But seriously, this was like the worst thing that has happened to me in quite a while. Oh. man. I would say it's worse than riding my bike around in a snow storm for 10 hours. Not even kidding.
The thing is, I guess it was worth it. But you know... I don't really know about the people from La Catolica. Whatever.

Something really weird is that all I could think about like the whole time was el Sendero Luminoso (The marxist guerrillas that terrorized the people in the mountains and jungle during the 80s and 90s) y los Senderistas (the people that belong to the group). I mean, it's not like these people really hurt us physically, but when you are cold and wet and absolutely a mess and smell horrible and are being screamed at and demeaned, you feel pretty bad, right? I mean, the people doing this were having fun (which I thought was crazy since I don't really like humiliating other people at all) and were laughing and just being relentlessly cruel.
And there I was, sitting hands tied behind my back, blindfold on, lying on the cold, dirty, disgusting cement thinking... "I can't believe this happened(-s)/is happening to people in real life. Like, real torture and humiliation. That is f-ed up as hell. That is crazy. This is crazy. This is horrible. They are horrible." And all of that brought out some of the most hateful, bitter, unforgiving feelings and desires that I have ever felt in my life. I don't think I've ever really wanted to physically inflict pain on someone until last night. I wanted to insult them and hurt them, the people doing all of this nonsense, so badly.

I mean, I'm sure all of you can think of a time when you have been humiliated and how horrible you felt and it sucks really really bad. Being humiliated is my all time least favorite feeling. I hate it. I just can't believe the profound sense of pain and hurt and sadness and anger and hopelessness and every bad feeling in the world that results when people turn into heartless perpetrators of some of the most violent, pointless, disgusting crimes ever against innocent people. I just... uhhhhh..... I don't know. I don't get it. But I do but I don't. Everything is so crazy and hopeless, it seems.

Anyways, that's enough of that.

Everybody here wants to be American. all I can think about sometimes is that Violent Femmes song "American Music" whenever I'm with all these Peruvians who sing American songs and wear shirts with American bands on them and do drugs like Americans do and go to shitty fast food restaurants and smoke Marb Reds and blah blah blah. Jeeeeeeeeeez.

One more thing. I went to the initiation thing with these girls from Cuzco. They are on an exchange program here too. They are great. On the bus ride to this place, before everything started, they told me at the exact same time, "It's different in Cuzco." And by that, they are implying un monton de cosas. a bunch of things. I think people in Cuzco are more chill, welcoming, don't feel so self-important, and other things. I can't wait to go to Cuzco. I really can't. I feel like maybe, it's Peru's equivalent of California... the promised land... ahahah.... for us radical, leftist, amoral liberals.

And finally, if being a "crazy liberal radical" means being concerned about the pain that people who aren't Americans are subjected to- oftentimes, as a result of America's politics- then, por favor, sign me up.

So... this is why we have it made.

Ok. There are some really really interesting things about this society that I think are very important to take into consideration when thinking about why wealth is more than just the dollar amount that shows up on your electronic bank statement.

1. People live here with their families until they get married, generally, or establish a legitimate, career after graduating from college. You live with your parents until your late 20s most of the time. Late 20s...! Because, it is SO incredibly difficult to survive on your own.

2. Today, one of my classmates told me that the lowest hourly wage you can get paid is 4 soles an hour. That is less than $1.50. However, he for example, makes 10 soles per hour which is about $3.50.

3. People tend to ask me how I got the money to get myself here, to Peru. And I told them, I saved up a lot of my money from the scholarships I got and then I continued to work so that I could save up more money and go to school. And they told me, "Here, that would never happen. The scholarships don't exist and wages are so inadequate and maintaining a job (that will pay for your necesities) and school at the same time is pretty much impossible." And what's more, if they wanted to come to the U.S. the exchange for them sucks! 3 to 1. And our immigration system... well, as Sam once told me, immigration is a complicated issue. Actually getting the visa and paying for all that nonsense... Oh man. It seems impossible, even from my perspective.

4. Getting into college. Is a whole different story.

Anyways, I've realized that living all by myself (in the United States), essentially, is rather difficult, as most all of you know. And also, it can be kind of sad and overwhelming in it's own way, but at least I have that choice of independence if I want it.
Here, that choice doesn't exist most of the time. Even if you wanted to work your ass off to live independently, the odds against you are stacked so high, that it is really an insurmountable task.
There's a good chance you have: a job, a bank account, a currency with an exchange rate in your favor, some way to get the health care you need if worse comes to worse, a high school education, access to at least a technical college, a good comand of the English language, internet access, citizenship in a country whose foreign policy decisions dictate what happens in the rest of the world, and the possibility of living alone.

Todo demora (everything takes a long time), Prudencia (Prudence) y Michael Jackson

The day Michael Jackson died, I knew something big was happening, and I knew it was going to be a lot of fun. After his death and in the United States, I myself at concerts with bands playing his songs live and everybody absolutely LOVING it. I found myself watching a Michael Jackson documentary with my very Lutheran mom and my Jewish friend Sam. I found myself conversing, live on the radio, with sixth-graders about who he was, what kind of music he made, and what, eactly, was the real cause of his death.
However, what I didn't realize was that Michael Jackson's death was going to be an international phenomenon that had the potential of uniting people from different continents all over the world. The last two weekends that I've gone out, I always manage to hear at least two Michael Jackson songs, and it's fabulous, because 1. All the Americans love Michael Jackson and don't need to know how to dance to dance to his music 2. All the Peruvians love it becuase it's American and in English and it's awesome and 3. Michael Jackson is great.
La moraleja de la historia es that frome here on out, Michael Jackson' birthday is going to be an internationally celebrated holiday (according to the calendar in my planner) until the day I die. In fact, if I'm lucky, the date of my death will coincide with his, so that all of my friends and family can have the biggest, most awesome funeral celebration ever. Also, everyone here is familiar with Thriller.

On a different note, we went to Polvos Azules yesterday, which is the big market-esque place where they sell things like: name brand shoes (LOTS of name brand shoes... as in aisles and aisles and aisles of Nike, Reebok, Converse, and Adidas shoes... all for prices that really, are either equivalent to or more expensive than what we find in the U.S), clothing, pirated music and DVDs, video games, clothes, accessories, posters of weird things, and other stuff. Although I was planning on buying some cheap shoes for basketball (which I didn't find), I (of course) ended up buying 5 cds instead (which cost me the equivalent of $5, more or less. I got some reggaeton, Aventura (a group whose singer makes me, and almost all other Peruvian girls melt into a puddle), and Peruvian Rock. And the Peruvia rock is what I want to comment on most.
Many of you know that I love music, and new music, and "good" music very very very much. And I realized that here, I haven't been listening to anything because almost my entire iTunes collection is English. So, I was determined to do something, and start listening to all of the Peruvian Rock I possibly could. I even checked out a book from the library all about it with history, band profiles, lyrics, and everything! I was well on my way.... thennnnnn, I started listening to some songs on youtube (here, pronounced something like, "yooo toooof") and I realized, "wait a second, these songs kind of suck." And I kept listening and I said to myself, "What am I listening to? This is like stuff from the 80s and the unfortunate alternative rock from the 90s that makes me really stupid when I listen to it." BUT, I still really appreciate it because the peruvian rock from the 80s really expresses a profound sense of disillusion that people here felt, in light of the corrupt politics, the violence, the depression, and other very hopeless circumstances facing Peruvians at the time. The only thing is that, here, like in the United States, the Peruvian rock seems to represent a rather white, bourgeois perspective attempting to affect change in an essentially futile way. Ok ok ok. That's just what I think.
There is this band called "We all together" (and it's not a translation) that is from the 60s and they are like the Beatles, but in Spanish. I swear. They even have a song called "Hey Revolution" (which is also not a translation). And I also believe they took part in a similar array of drugs. And finally, I was talking to this hip hop artist yesterday who told me, when I asked him if he liked Reggaeton, that "No, it doesn't have any content"... as in there's no substance to the lyrics. And I responded, "But what about the rhythm, that's why I love reggaeton." And he agreed and was like, "yes, of course" but proceeded to say how hip hop is a movement that expresses something, ideas that are meaningful and substantive and impotant for society to hear and share and consider. And with that, I absolutely agree.

Anyways, last night, I went to Miraflores and Barranco. In Miraflores, we went to the opening of this exhibit in an art galery of two very famous grafitti artists. I thought their art was really good and interesting and awesome. But what was equally as interesting was that all of the artsy, counter culture, hipster-esque, white Peruvians emerged from the cracks in the walls to congregate in one place and partake in this sophisticated yet definitively "underclass" expression of art. In all of my time here, I haven't experienced something so familiar... that's really not true... but I felt like I was in Madison, standing outside of Espresso Royale, talking with fashionable people, smoking cigarrettes, flaunting their cultural capital, and access to social/economic resources. It was great.
(Also, on the bus ride to Miraflores, I decided that I'm really going to get a tatoo. Of course, of what I don't know, but I'm going to. And when I find something meaning(ful/less) enough to get imprinted on me for eternity, I will let you all know how it turns out.
And this brings me to the point about how everything here takes so long. It is like a fact of nature here. I met up with Mariah, and one of our other friends, and one of Mariah's good friends from Milwaukee, who was with some of her Peruvian friends. My plans included, 1. Go to the opening of this exhibit 2. Leave for Barranco 3. Find a place to drink and dance.
First of all, I left from my house (in San Borja) an hour later than I planned. Then, from Mariah's it took us another hour to meet up with here friend from Milwaukee. Then after we were done with all of that counter-culture nonsense at the galery, it took us another hour (after walking up and down sidewalks in a two block radius and asking strangers to take pictures of us) to finally decide to get in a taxi and go to any place in Barranco. But thankfully, three hours after my journey began, I found myself at Trapiche, this bar that serves drinks from la Selva (rainforest/jungle), sharing some very strong pitchers of 1. Supersexy (pronounced sooopairsaykseee) and 2. Cae Solita.
(On a side note, I really like drinking here as a opposed to in Madison for a few very important reasons. First of all, in Madison, you essentially have 3 to 5 hours to get drunk, socialize, approach someone at a bar, make conversation, and go home with them, sober enough to maintain at least part of your self image and dignity- because you start between 10 and 11 and finish at 2 (bar time). Whereas here, you can start early at 10-11 and typically stay out till 4 (bar time). It is a solid 6 hours- a two hour bonus! Second, given the short amount of time to go out and white people's lack of dancing skills, the main objective is to get really drunk and maybe have some type of interesting coversation. Here, I find myself, very very very easily exercising a lot more self restraint in my drinking with very little difficulty. And finally, all of this paced intoxication and dancing allows be to worry a lot less about needing someon to take care of me when I drink)

Well, I actually need to eat breakfast right now, since I've been sitting here typing for far too long, so I'll have to finish all of my cultural comparisons later...

Pobreza y politica

I just got done listening to the last 1/4 of this conference about something having to do with, I don't know, (potential) capabilities of impoverished people and the effects that religion has on (dis)empowering them. Since I only caught a very small part of it, the substance itself wasn't that meaningful. However, what was really weird feeling was that I was sitting in this small auditorium filled with intelectuals from all over the world, who (as a general rule) had a pretty good grasp of the English language- to the extent that everyone articulated complex and educated arguments, comments, and opinions and all were able to share and disagree and comment in a very respectful, captivating way. There were all these people, adults, academics, professionals, taking notes, some on paper, and others on macs, half the people dressed business casual, the other half in everyday clothes... It made me think about the vast and profound gap that exists between the reality of the some, let´s say educated people with access to money, international and instantaneous communication, savings accounts, and a global perspective and the reality of others, for example, people living in a poor neighborhood in a big city with very limited access to the undertsanding of complicated ideas that will shape the world that they are subject to...

Anyways, I also went to this human rights organizations fair where there were a bunch of different groups and NGOs and things along those lines distributing information and pamphlets and such. I got this one Pamphlet, that is roughly translated, entitled as "Lessons so that history doesn´t repeat itself"

Inside it says:

"What happened between 1980 and 2000?
During these years, we peruvians lived during a period of the strongest, most intense, and most extensive violence of all of our history: almost 70,000 deaths, the majority being indigenous poor from the countryside. This figure reflects the horror experienced during the armed internal conflict"

This is, more or less, old news to me, but nonetheless, it is still rather unbelievable how recently such devasting violence impacted the country, and how, for about a decade, people acted like nothing happened.

Ok, well, I´ll have something more interesting and happy to talk about sooon...

Lost at C and no-expectations expectations

So. Here are some updates.

- I went to basketball practice tonight....! And, you may be wondering what kind of A-team La Catolica is repping. Rest assured, I think they are on par (maybe a little better) than my freshman high school team, so I'll fit right in. I'm pretty excited, since I spent a good part of last summer pestering people to play with me. I even bought a basketball that I didn't manage to use once. Mostly though, I'm excited to make friends with girls! That seems to be difficult here.
-I found a Capoeira group here. I am very very very excited about that. The mestre (the head of the group) and one of his long-time students are both Brazilian, from Bahia, and speak Portuguese. Which is fabulous. Since I want to speak Portuguese too. (Today, on the way to school, I was sitting in the very back of the combi and this old man, who is an electrician, started to talk to me. Eventually I found out that 1. He wasn't ill-intentioned and 2. His mom was from Portugal.... whence, we proceeded to talk half Portuguese half Spanish the rest of the ride to his destination).
-I got my first quiz back today! It was horrible. I got a C. I don't think I've gotten a C on anything since grade school.... I came in planning on taking it easy peasy and here I am, adrift, lost at sea, confused about a solid 50% of what's going on in my classes. But, thankfully, I have all weekend to get my act together as best as I can and start using the planner I recently bought.
-This last weekend I went to the center of Lima where you can buy anything. absolutely anything you want...
I bought: A Michael Jackson poster (for $0.35), some shoes, push pins, and other things.
That place is crazy. It's packed! It's like... street after street after street of stores inside and outside, upstairs and downstairs, and everywhere!

In general, things are going fine, but despite my initial efforts to have no expectations about anything, which succeeded tremendously, this is getting harder and harder to adhere to. I find myself getting my hopes up about certain, mostly inconsequential things only to realize that assumptions an anticipation and plans are all so precarious here. Despite that, however, even my smallest successes make me feel like maybe I'm starting to understand the rhythm, or rather, the jerky stop-and-go, grinding pace of life in Lima.

Coasties!

Hey everyone. Guess what. I go to school with coasties. Peruvian coasties.
I've only been here a little more than two weeks but it seems that limeños tend to be a bit/rather elitest regarding their self-perception and relation to Peruvians of different ethnic/racial categories... education, money, class, background... and they are also from the coast. With every generalization, there are clearly thousands of exceptions, but I think this generalization has some pretty strong, supporting evidence.

For those of you aren't familiar, coasties are the girls that come from the east coast to go to school in Madison. Stereotypically speaking, they have money (from their fathers), go to the gym, wear North Face apparel, talk with a distinct coastie accent, and live in the expensive appartments on Gorham/University Ave.

In other news, I don't have class on Fridays and the sun is starting to occasionally show itself over two hour time spans.

One last thing I forgot to mention was Chuchuwasi. It's this fermented drink served hot like tea, made out of the roots of plants from the rainforest that is really strong. When you drink it, it's like getting drunk, but not in a depressant sort of way... it's like the opposite direction (in terms of a mental state).

Peruvian boys and other Observations

Like, I mentioned last time, Mariah and I went to Huaraz, which is about 6 or 7 hours away from Lima. From Madison to Minneapolis, you can take the Greyhound for $75. From Lima to Huaraz, you can take it for about $10.
Huaraz was weird and fun. The mountains were absolutely beautiful. Amazing. real, legitimate mountains, with crystal clear lakes and meandering farm animals. Mariah and I had a tour guide all to ourselves- Katiuska- who was incredibly nice, kind of goofy, and really patient. Hopefully, I'll put some pictures up soon. I also went to see some ruins. Unfortunately, I was a little unappreciative of the implications of this ancient civilization's ingenuity, and spent the hour and 40 minute tour (after the 3 hour bus ride up the mountain, which I actually enjoyed more) wondering how long it was going to last. Honestly, I'm sure most people found it fascinating, but part of my lack of enthusiasm had to do with the altitude, which made me want to sit down and take a nap every 5 minutes. It was like my face and my brain felt really tired and heavy and they were weighing me down. One thing that was absolutely crazy were the real, live Andean pueblos that were scattered along our path up the mountain... communities that don't have electricity and speak Quechua and wash their dishes and clothes in the rivers that begin in the Cordilleras.
Also, it was sunny every day and my face got sunburnt. It felt great.
Today, we enrolled for classes. It was a stupid, frustrating process (like figuring out how to type the @ on keyboards here or finding where the readings for my classes are). Instead of taking Peruvian Social Reality, I'll be taking History of the Modern World, which is fine with me.
Now, about the title. One thing I've noticed about Peru, is that the invisible "inappropriate" line is drawn somewhere else here. Peruivian boys (ages 12 to 35) seem to find a lot of things acceptable that are absolutely not ok in the United States when you first meet someone in any context, intoxicated or sober... obviously this is an unfair generalization to make, but I guess I'm making it anyway.
Now, after two weeks, here are some of the things that I miss about America (although, I am by no means in a hurry to get back):

- Madison's enrollment process
- Good coffee
- Clearly marcated bus routes and maps
- Letting my guard down

Pretty unimpressive!

All who wander are probably lost

Every day here seems to show certain trends that I've become well acquainted with. These include:

- Frequent miscommunication and misunderstandings
- Me asking someone here a question and after their response, a confused shake of the head and a forlorn "gracias."
- After a long day of little physical exertion, feeling completely exhausted, and an unfortunately persistant, slightly annoying headache
- Scribbling nonsensical notes from the chapter books of various professors' lectures that I attempt to understand.

- Most noteably however, is something along the lines of what happened to me today: After Mariah and I went to buy our tickets to Huaraz (a town in the mountains) at a bus station, we decided we would try to take a combi (bus) to la Catolica (our school). We tried all four directions that cars were going. North, south, east, and west, and asked at least 5 people which bus to take, but could not figure it out to save our lives. Half an hour later, we took a taxi. Better luck next time, I guess.

The moral of the story is, when you want to be inconspicuous in Lima, you need to act like you know what you're doing and where you are; however, this is surprisingly difficult, when you have no idea.

Shiny

Today I went to Miraflores, which is the nice district of Peru, where all the foreigners stay and people shop at expensive stores and stay in expensive hotels. Mostly I walked around by the ocean, under an overcast sky on a rocky beach, where this guy approched me asking if I wanted to learn to surf. Of course I do. But am I about to follow this dude, pay him $20, tell him where I live, on what street, give him my phone number, and tell him my name so he can find me on facebook? Of couse not. So, I got his name, phone number, email address, and will consult with Nancy and Tito about my options.
Anyways, I've noticed that Lima has two sides to it- the side that is shiny with pristine buildings, clean sidewalks, and cafes playing American music and the side that is dull, polluted and dirty. Miraflores and San Isidro are the shiny parts, next to the sea, and the rest appears to be some variation of the latter.
Before I left, I was worried about getting my inhibitions back, since they seemed to have disappeared while living in Madison. Rest assured, they are back, safe and sound, right where I left them last time I had to do something completely new. I think they are serving me well, but also a bit of a bummer...

So.... If I could get the classes that I finally decided on almost, assuming they aren't full, this is what they would be:

-Peruvian Social Reality
-Kinship and Social Relationships
-Andean Ethnography (In this class we get to go to an Andean community, talk with the people, and write up an ethnographic report of some social aspect of our choice)

Sounds pretty baller to me. I love school. And I love that I love school. I can't even believe that I get access to such a kick-ass education that blows my mind all the time, in a different language. Ha!

Cold Feet and Dark Brown Hair

Well, like I said before, it's always cold feet in Lima. apparently. The cold is always seeping through my clothes into my bones, just like Steve Stern told me last year. It's alright though. I still think I prefer this winter to the snowy, sad, dark, slushy, gray winters that await all of you Holiday Cheer sorry fools in Wisconsin. Anyways.

Now that I don't need to use a fake ID to buy alcohol and get into bars, I'm dying my hair again. To be dark brown. Even though I could pass for a boy (or a lesbian... god willing) with my short hair, I consistently get whistled at, stared at, honked at, and stopped for by a variety of males. With very few expectations and only one major plan of being as inconspicuous as possible, I'm not doing very well. So, maybe this box of Garnier Nutrisse tintura permanente de color chocolate moka will do the trick. Purchased from none other than Wong- Lima's version of Wal-mart.

School starts tomorrow. Despite a half a year of me telling myself that I would take easy classes, not spend every hour in the library and sit down for more than 2 minutes, I don't know know if that will actually happen. I finally started looking at my potential schedule this afternoon. After the welcome speach from someone official at the University talking about how academically serious everyone is, how well-known the school and faculty is, and how demanding classes could be... I started to reevaluate. And then I was looking at all of my options. I am going to take 3 or four courses. I wrote down 10 that I wanted to take.

On Saturday, we went to el Centro para ver la Plaza de Armas and some other things. It was great. We went on a tour of la iglesia (church) San Francisco. It was magical. Plenty of amazing architecture, crucifixes, saints, paintings, books, and staircases to last a whole vacation. Thankfully, underneath this particular church, the reason I wanted to go in the first place, there were catacumbas, catacombs. It was weird, dark, moist, dingy, basement-smelling, with low ceilings. There were rectangular boxes filled with bones, organized by type, all neartly in order. Then there was this 10 meter-deep semi-circular space with a really pretty design created by altnerating rows of skulls and other bones. The lady explained everything, in spanish, but I didn't understand.

That very same night, some of us went to a reggae concert. It was small. Like big house party size. If I had to venture a guess, the kind of size that a sigma chi party would be on any given weekend. It was at a bar called el Oso (bear) which was a bar in a house, essentially, with a stage in the living room. The clientelle. Peru's version of hippies. I think there were a lot of people younger than 18. There was also a lot of weed being smoked. Of which I failed to partake. Rather, I made no concerted effort to try to partake in doing illegal drugs in a foreign country. Thanks to the four cuzquena beers and one pisco sour I managed to drink that night, I was well on my way to falling asleep standing up, while bobbing my head to lyric-less reggae music. And so were the others, I believe. So we left early, some time after 12. After a very safe taxi ride back to San Borja, the neighbor I live in, and a bit of a struggle with unlocking the door, I managed to fall asleep instantly.

Now I'm going to wash out my haird dye.

Putting out and other fun things.

It seems that everyone here is putting out pretty hard. In a trying-to-get-by sort of way. When we take the combi (little busses) to and from school, there are always people weaving through the traffic trying to sell stuff. Anything. Newspapers, drinks, food, trinkets, books. And this is crazy traffic. If you're not paying attention, you'll probably get run over. If I get the courage, maybe I'll get my camera out one day and take a picture.
The second night, we went to a Jazz club in miraflores, which felt really sophisticated. We listened to this guy play guitar and this really beautiful lady sing some really beautiful songs- including some Frank Sinatra, the duet between Aladin and Jasmine, and what I'm pretty sure is Mary Magdalin's song from Jesus Chirst Superstar. yep. Jesus Christ Superstar.
Last night, I went to a Shaman with a friend from Madison and a Colombian girl who was living in the same house as her (who told us about it). It is a very complicated picture to create using only words because it was so... not like you would imagine. It was a simple, dingy room with American music playing on the radio in the backround. The guy, Carlos, was dressed in Jeans and a dirty button-up shirt and an old vest. The whole time he was very informal and easy-going, taking calls during the whole time, but this wasn't a problem. There was this alter-like thing, which was a table and the wall behind it, filled with cross, crucifixes, Buddhas, jewels, figurines of other dieties, and a bunch of other stuff. We did a lot of stuff that I don't really feel like explaining because I'm not quite sure how without taking way too long. The long and the short is, he knew exactly what the two biggest things on my mind were, and he knew for the others that had gone (The other girls had been there the day before). Then he shared stories and proverbs and other very wise things he had to say with us to help us focus and think and resolve our conflicts. We chewed coca leaves the whole time, took little drinks of some type of alcohol, and smoked a lot of pure tobacco. I had a lot to think about after. It was all very surreal, since most of you probably know that I have a lot of trouble believing in a higher power right now.
The school is beautiful, my classes will be hard, and life will be exciting, I'm sure of it. I can't wait for it to be sunny again....

Day 1

Well, I flew in and spoke with the customs lady, who stamped by passport, and then proceeded to walk through the magical doors that lead to the pick-up area outside international baggage claim. It's like a crowd of fans is waiting for you, holding up posters and signs, cheering wildly while awaiting your grand entrance. After wandering around, confused and lost for ten minutes or so, I finally found my family... Tito and Nancy. I soon found out that there was another girl named Allison, a student, living with them, who came back to get her luggage that the airline lost. We were also waiting for Julia, who showed up maybe an hour later. I actually have met this girl before since we both go to Madison, but don't know her that well. Eventually I found out that there are 7 students all together (from the U.S. and one from Japan and one from Switzerland) in addition to their 3 children. It seems like they will be running a tight ship around here. Which should be good for me. Their house is beautiful and the floors make my feet cold. I have my own room which is where I'm typing from. I have a feeling that I'm going to be a very happy camper here.