A Trip to Chalaco

Dear Constant Readers,

The rain has started. Which means I don't know how often I'll be able to write until April or so. The roads have been washed out because they are all dirt and landslides are frequent. Because of fear of losing my computer in a river crossing, I didn't bring it to Piura and am in a computer cafe where the machines are slow and unreliable.

I don't really remember what all I was going to say, so I'll keep this fairly short (and also to keep my sanity from working with this unreliable machine.

I had to take my nurse up Chalaco on a Sunday afternoon. Not really a problem under normal circumstances, but it was raining the whole way, it was through the mountains, it was late in the day to go, and as the nurse can't walk as fast as I the 3.5-4 hour trip turned into a 6 or so hour one. It was dark when we arrived, and neither of us had a scrap of dry clothing on. But at least we got the vaccines delievered. After two hours of rest (not sleep, though) in some dry clothes that the nurse's tec had for me at his house in Chalaco her and I left on a bus down to Morropon at 3.00 AM. On the bus I got maybe an hour of sleep or so, but it wasn't easy as the bus constantly rocked and seemed to want to tip over on the 5 hour drive.

From Piura we drove to a river that was so high cars couldn't pass it like normal, but you cold on foot. So on foot it was with porters to carry our luggage (we had anticipated an overnight trip, and I thought my backback was waterproof. But it really wasn't.) After waiting for a couple of hours we managed to catch a car that was headed in the direction of home. However, while we had been away the rain had washed out much of the road and meant we had to walk another 2 hours or so to make it back to Rinconada.

Afterwards, I had to walk the hour up to Patrick's site to figure out how we could make it down to Piura the next day for our regional meeting. He ended up staying at my place for the night and we left at 2.30 AM for a 3.5 hour walk down to Nueva Esperanza where we found a car that could take us the rest of the way to Morropon, even though we had to wait a few hours for the driver to wake up and go. The river was low enough to cross in a car, although I wouldn't have tried it.

We caught the bus to Piura and arrived at 10.00 AM I think.

The adventure was draining, and as far as work is concerned it was the hardest day of my life. It was one of those times that makes a Volunteer want to go home and curse Peru or wherever they are. I view this trip as a sort of marriage, where you agree to stick with it through hell or highwater, which is fairly literal in my case. One of these days would have been an argument. A big one with flying remote controls.

But I felt like I had a badge of honor when I made it too the meeting. Very very unwashed hair, dirty and sweaty, muddy legs and blisters all over my feet...One of my friends told me I had the Peace Corps look down. She said I had a very distant look in my eyes.

But I'm glad I did it. I didn't enjoy the rain or getting lost in the dark, but it is all part of the job.

I wish I had time to write more, but that will have to do for now. Hopefully when the electricity comes back on in my site (something somewhere exploded and knocked out power in a couple of towns last week) I'll be able to prepare a more complete entry.

Hope all is well!

Tristan

It Is a Part of You Now

Dear Constant Readers,

First off, a wish of Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Years, belated well-wishing though they are. I don't get much chance to write, you see? I spent three weeks at my site, and while I was glad to spend that amount of time, I needed to come down to Piura for a change of cuisine, check my email, and take a hot shower for a change. It will hopefully be a bi-weekly deal.

Life will never be unraveled by me, that's sure as hell. I was never very good at riddles, anyway. It's a living art. That's been a main theme of this blog for those of you who haven't read some of the other entries. I started just as a way to keep people updated while I stomped around in my leather shoes in Germany a couple of years ago and found out I liked writing it. Sometimes when I'm frustrated with my fiction writing I think that talking about my thoughts is the only kind of writing I'm decent at. But I read an interesting quote from Faulkner today and while I didn't memorize it, he said that all writing should come from the heart, otherwise the published words are representing false ideals.

In my blog I write from the heart. I don't spill out everything, of course. Somethings the wide world doesn't need to see, but I try to be honest and open, even when I am disturbed at what I have sometimes disclosed.

I don't have much to say about the last three weeks, as a matter of fact. Christmas and New Years were fairly minor deals in my site, Christmas in fact passed as quietly as a whisper in the wind. The only difference was that people didn't work. New Years was celebrated by burning a doll made of old clothing and socializing. It was a nice party, even though I vehemently refused to dance (it's almost a life rule for me). Dancing makes me feel like I'm walking around with my ding-dong hanging out for all to see, and I'd rather not put myself through that roller-coaster. But I still wanted to be social, all the same. We'll see how that goes, but in the past....oh...six years of life my comfort with dancing has improved little, and I see no major changes on the Andean horizon.

I did spend time analyzing feelings. As I've said before, the most I've gotten out of this trip was to learn about myself. At some level I think that is why I joined. I didn't think I'd change the world and I think that will be useful to keep in mind down the road. But I never intended to anyway. I'm curious about the world to see how it works, to kind of play things out, to observe and go with the flow. Last week I made an observation by holding a baby chicken to my ear to see if I could hear its heart beat or lungs draw breath.

I wasn't always like that. I used to plan things out more. I wanted more control, but that has consistently never really worked out. I don't mind so much anymore. Takes a hell of a lot out of my hands to worry about. Adjusting to the simple life has been and perhaps will continue to be a challenge. Amy, a friend of mine and another volunteer said that it takes unlearning to adapt here, she is correct. Their life isn't better here, but the lack of complications from much of what I was used to in college is enjoyable, if that enjoyment can be reached. It takes work to know that life doesn't need to be filled, but that it feels itself because nature abhors a vacuum. You just have to know how to work with what you are given. I fill much of my life with reading now, and soon it will be filled, partially, with doing surveys to discover the strengths and weaknesses of my adoptive/adopted community, but whatever this work leads to I cannot say. They are just little plot points on a vast empty stretch of paper upon which life is written.

A friend of mine told me not to fight. Not to fight with myself and not to struggle. The harder you struggle, the deeper entangled you become, they say. Somethings must be fought: bad habits or addictions for example, but even so I think when it comes to anxiety, to pain, to uncertainty, and feelings related to these maybe it's better just to let it takes its natural course in life, after all. I don't know why you get more entangled, why so often people don't break free but get bogged down in uncertainty. Maybe there is another law to nature there too.

Hope all is well.

Tristan