Sorry For the Delay
Originally Written March 10, 2010
Dear Readers,
I apologize for the delay in writing. If anyone was wondering, I am fine and in good health. I’ve back and forth between site and Piura a lot this past month or so and that hasn’t made it easy for me to write, since I don’t like writing while I’m in Piura. But no excuses.
However, I have been busy. I’ve been learning quite a bit about myself and in the ways I am productive in life. A lot of it has been and continues to be a surprise. However, I’ll have to save that for another post perhaps, because this is a long story about getting back to site.
A few weeks ago I ended spending a personal record of eight days straight in Piura. This wasn’t my intention. I was planning on going back on day four after having rested and running various errands I needed to run. I was also there for the purpose of getting sunlight. Being in the rain, mud, and grey clouds was bothering me and I decided I’d had enough of it. However, I had to stay one more day because I decided to check to see if I could find computer monitors for my library project. A man who sells computer monitors had some available and I agreed to meet him the following day. Computer monitors purchased and left with another local volunteer for safe keeping until my library is ready, I set off for site the following day.
I left that morning at eight and I found a seat on the one truck heading back and settled in for the trip back. However, it was not to be. The truck left Morropón and continued onwards a piece until it suddenly broke down. Fortunately we were not yet out of cell phone range (close, though) and the driver called for a mechanic. We ended up sitting around for a couple of hours until it was decided that no one was coming. Since I was closer to Morropón, and thus closer to Piura, I set off back to the city on foot, planning to catch a ride with which ever vehicle going that direction I found first. After around twenty minutes of walking, I found a Telmex truck in a tiny caserio (rural village) with two cable men. I asked them if they were headed to Morropón and if so, could I catch a ride. They said yes to both question, but told me they were finishing their rounds. I asked them how long they thought it would be and the said maybe twenty minutes’ work in another village. Sounded fine to me. Besides, it’s not as if I had my choice of vehicles.
The two men drove over to a caserio named Casa Blanca (white house) to either install or repair a satellite dish. While one of the looked for the house, I waited with the older of the two cable men and listened as he told me stories about places in Peru, particularly of Cuzco, where he was from. He said if I haven’t seen Machu Picchu (which I haven’t yet) I’m not allowed to die. Eventually he got tired of waiting and we drove over to see what was taking so long. All this time people thought I was also a Telmex cable man and a couple asked me questions about service and bills or something like that. It was a strange feeling for me.
While the two men worked in this house that had a store with it, some of the men sitting outside of it treated me to a few beers and a Pepsi and wanted to ask me questions about the United States, about why Peruvian food was all natural and healthier (it probably is all natural, but a balanced diet is an unfamiliar concept) and wanted me to translate crude words out of English for them. By the time the cable men finished it was getting dark and I couldn’t read my books I had brought with me. The older man put in some Michael Jackson songs and asked me if I was sad Michael had passed away. Although I don’t like hearing about anyone’s death, I wasn’t too crushed by Michael’s because I never listened to any of his music. But I said yes anyways because I didn’t want to disagree with the guy. They agreed to take me all the way to Piura itself, since they were headed that way, and refused payment when I brought the topic up. It was seven in the evening by the time I got back, but I still thought it was a fairly decent day. I got to see some beautiful landscapes, was both in good health and good spirits, and everyone I met was very friendly. It’s true I would have enjoyed spending time in Piura, had I known, but I would have spent most of it on the computer anyways. Not that I think that’s bad.
I decided to sleep in the next day because I was tired from spending all day driving to caserios. Also I wanted to give the driver a day to get his truck fixed. That night I dreamt a stray dog was attacking me while I was sitting. I swung my elbow at it with all my might but missed. I did not, however, miss the cement wall I was sleeping next to. The jolt of pain woke me up. After realizing what had happened and feeling kind of stupid, I decided I wished someone had been watching because it would have been great to get an outsiders version of what they had seen so they could describe it back to me. My elbow was sore for several days afterwards. Other than that, nothing happened worth writing about. I went and saw the remake of the movie “The Wolfman” but it sucked.
The morning I was to leave again I woke up sick and nauseous. By the time I felt better I was leaving much later than I had planned, and the people in Morropón told me conflicting stories about the truck. Some said it had left and wouldn’t come back, others said it hadn’t come yet. It turns out the latter was true, and had I waited I could have gone back to site. But I didn’t feel like taking that chance and spending another day in Bajo Piura Limbo, so I headed back to Piura and waited another day.
By this time even I was tired of the city. Despite how much I’ve come to appreciate good food, hot water, internet, and a toilet that flushes, I was also missing my routine at site and my own bed where I could rest. I was also tired of spending the money that restaurants and the hostel was costing me. I wasn’t complaining about it, but I simply needed decompression time.
I made sure to leave early enough to catch the truck and made it back up to site with no further incident. A few days after I got there I was able to continue on with some art classes and building the latrine for my host family with Teofilo’s help.
And there you have it. A few days in the life of a PCV.
Tristan
Dear Readers,
I apologize for the delay in writing. If anyone was wondering, I am fine and in good health. I’ve back and forth between site and Piura a lot this past month or so and that hasn’t made it easy for me to write, since I don’t like writing while I’m in Piura. But no excuses.
However, I have been busy. I’ve been learning quite a bit about myself and in the ways I am productive in life. A lot of it has been and continues to be a surprise. However, I’ll have to save that for another post perhaps, because this is a long story about getting back to site.
A few weeks ago I ended spending a personal record of eight days straight in Piura. This wasn’t my intention. I was planning on going back on day four after having rested and running various errands I needed to run. I was also there for the purpose of getting sunlight. Being in the rain, mud, and grey clouds was bothering me and I decided I’d had enough of it. However, I had to stay one more day because I decided to check to see if I could find computer monitors for my library project. A man who sells computer monitors had some available and I agreed to meet him the following day. Computer monitors purchased and left with another local volunteer for safe keeping until my library is ready, I set off for site the following day.
I left that morning at eight and I found a seat on the one truck heading back and settled in for the trip back. However, it was not to be. The truck left Morropón and continued onwards a piece until it suddenly broke down. Fortunately we were not yet out of cell phone range (close, though) and the driver called for a mechanic. We ended up sitting around for a couple of hours until it was decided that no one was coming. Since I was closer to Morropón, and thus closer to Piura, I set off back to the city on foot, planning to catch a ride with which ever vehicle going that direction I found first. After around twenty minutes of walking, I found a Telmex truck in a tiny caserio (rural village) with two cable men. I asked them if they were headed to Morropón and if so, could I catch a ride. They said yes to both question, but told me they were finishing their rounds. I asked them how long they thought it would be and the said maybe twenty minutes’ work in another village. Sounded fine to me. Besides, it’s not as if I had my choice of vehicles.
The two men drove over to a caserio named Casa Blanca (white house) to either install or repair a satellite dish. While one of the looked for the house, I waited with the older of the two cable men and listened as he told me stories about places in Peru, particularly of Cuzco, where he was from. He said if I haven’t seen Machu Picchu (which I haven’t yet) I’m not allowed to die. Eventually he got tired of waiting and we drove over to see what was taking so long. All this time people thought I was also a Telmex cable man and a couple asked me questions about service and bills or something like that. It was a strange feeling for me.
While the two men worked in this house that had a store with it, some of the men sitting outside of it treated me to a few beers and a Pepsi and wanted to ask me questions about the United States, about why Peruvian food was all natural and healthier (it probably is all natural, but a balanced diet is an unfamiliar concept) and wanted me to translate crude words out of English for them. By the time the cable men finished it was getting dark and I couldn’t read my books I had brought with me. The older man put in some Michael Jackson songs and asked me if I was sad Michael had passed away. Although I don’t like hearing about anyone’s death, I wasn’t too crushed by Michael’s because I never listened to any of his music. But I said yes anyways because I didn’t want to disagree with the guy. They agreed to take me all the way to Piura itself, since they were headed that way, and refused payment when I brought the topic up. It was seven in the evening by the time I got back, but I still thought it was a fairly decent day. I got to see some beautiful landscapes, was both in good health and good spirits, and everyone I met was very friendly. It’s true I would have enjoyed spending time in Piura, had I known, but I would have spent most of it on the computer anyways. Not that I think that’s bad.
I decided to sleep in the next day because I was tired from spending all day driving to caserios. Also I wanted to give the driver a day to get his truck fixed. That night I dreamt a stray dog was attacking me while I was sitting. I swung my elbow at it with all my might but missed. I did not, however, miss the cement wall I was sleeping next to. The jolt of pain woke me up. After realizing what had happened and feeling kind of stupid, I decided I wished someone had been watching because it would have been great to get an outsiders version of what they had seen so they could describe it back to me. My elbow was sore for several days afterwards. Other than that, nothing happened worth writing about. I went and saw the remake of the movie “The Wolfman” but it sucked.
The morning I was to leave again I woke up sick and nauseous. By the time I felt better I was leaving much later than I had planned, and the people in Morropón told me conflicting stories about the truck. Some said it had left and wouldn’t come back, others said it hadn’t come yet. It turns out the latter was true, and had I waited I could have gone back to site. But I didn’t feel like taking that chance and spending another day in Bajo Piura Limbo, so I headed back to Piura and waited another day.
By this time even I was tired of the city. Despite how much I’ve come to appreciate good food, hot water, internet, and a toilet that flushes, I was also missing my routine at site and my own bed where I could rest. I was also tired of spending the money that restaurants and the hostel was costing me. I wasn’t complaining about it, but I simply needed decompression time.
I made sure to leave early enough to catch the truck and made it back up to site with no further incident. A few days after I got there I was able to continue on with some art classes and building the latrine for my host family with Teofilo’s help.
And there you have it. A few days in the life of a PCV.
Tristan
posted by Tristan | 8:19 AM
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