Tub Thumping kind of life

"I get knocked down, but I get up again

you're never gonna keep me down."

Three attempts in, finally sitting in a taxi chatting in broken Spanish with the driver when a song I actually recognized come in through the radio.  Chumbawamba's Tub Thumping.  I found myself smiling and surprisingly, disproportionately happy at the sound of this old, cheesy, high school-era song.  It was that moment I realized my whingy cranky moods had lifted.  My last week in Peru has been chock full of mistakes and bits of bad luck/poor planning.  I apologize to those of you who've had to listen and console me so much. I don't enjoy being a debbie downer, but sometimes I just can't help it.  My last week in Peru had its fair share of mishaps and bouts of poor planning, that all started with Penis Man.  After that situation, I got to leave Cuzco for a bit and I was off to the jungle.

The jungle was great, but that's for another post.  After making it home from the jungle, surviving the 12 hour precarious drive, I think I was taking things a bit for granted.  A new housemate asked me to take some money with me to the office to change into soles for her.  I was already going there, so I was happy to help out.  She handed me a $100 bill and we were off.  When we arrived at the office, I went to grab the bill to change.  And it was gone.  (1) Somewhere in the 20 minute walk with hundreds of other people on the street, I managed to lose $100.  Don't know how, scoured the streets on the way home to see if by the grace of god the wind blew it in a direction that people didn't see.  No dice.  I had to go to my bank account and pull out my LAST $100 to give back to my housemate.  It was rather depressing and embarrassing. I could hear the response I would get "Kassi, you shoulda been more responsible."  It stings still, just because I had been so careful with my budget.  It was tight but I had it all planned out perfectly.  Losing that $100 hurt.  A lot.

(2) Later that night, as I was packing and getting ready to take my night bus to Arequipa, I double checked my ticket only to realize I had booked it for the 13th and not the 12th.  Oops.  My roommates were happy that I was able to stay another night and go to the volunteer party.  I was more than happy to hang out with them, but not so happy to pay for another night's accommodation.  Our house was $20/night....very steep by Cuzco standards.  Without much other choice, I dressed up and went to the party with my housemates. While gearing up for one last night out in Cuzco, for real this time, I started feeling really weak and my stomach was cramping a bit.  My stomach had been a bit upset for a few weeks, but the previous few days had become more difficult to manage.  I decided it was best to go home and get some rest.  In the morning, (3) I broke down and called the doctor.  I was trying to hold off, assuming it would fix itself when I got home.  But on the off chance it didn't clear up, going to the doctor in the states would be not only expensive but probably a pain.  Turns out, I had a parasite.  I think I had a parasite since we went to Macchu Picchu, but the antibiotics I took for a sinus infection killed the good bacteria in my intestine which allowed the parasite to run rampant in me.  The doctor gave me a prescription for ant-parasite medication.  Anti-parasite is apparently expensive, (4) costing me all the money I made by selling my Peruvian cell phone and my sleeping bag.  Cuzco started to seem like a black money hole.

Thankfully I was on my way out.  If I had stayed in Cuzco, who knows what would have happened.  I did manage to get on my overnight bus thankfully, and it should have been an omen.  It was so nice.  It felt like luxury after the bus ride back from the jungle.  I fell asleep before we even left the bus station.  Once in Arequipa, I took a taxi to my hostel (which I was overcharged for obviously). I tried to find a two or one day tour of Colca Canyon.  I quickly learned that I would not be able to afford the two day trip. Instead I signed up for a one day trip.  Unfortunately, a few hours later I realized I couldn't afford that either and cancelled the trip. I was a bit depressed and whiney last night, I had been looking forward to the Colca Canyon since I got to Peru.  However, I met two Canadian girls who did the one day tour and hated it.  They said it was the worst tour they'd done in South America.  Seems like the first turn in  my bad luck!

Today I booked a hostel in Ica and my bus from Ica to Lima.  Both for really good prices (and I was able to put it on my credit card).  I was taking a risk with my bus to Ica that leaves tonight.  Online it says they have seats for $59 soles, but all the agencies here were saying that they were $81 soles.  Apparently the 59 soles is a promotion.  I tried to order it online but you have to order tickets online at least two days in advance.  I tried finding a place that could access the promotion, but no luck.  My original plan was to go to the terminal a bit early and just buy the ticket tonight  for 59 soles.  However, with my recent bout of bad luck and poor planning, I was a bit nervous.  I decided the best thing to do was go to the terminal today, but I didn't want to pay nearly 20 soles for the round trip.  I had to bite the bullet.  I was able to get a taxi  to the terminal for 4 soles!  I bought  my ticket (on my credit card!) and then used my superior Spanish negotiating skills to get a taxi to take me back for 4.50 soles!!  Sweet.  It was in the taxi, as I was chatting away in Spanish about how I don't have any money left on my trip that Tub Thumping came on the radio.  Seemed only appropriate.  I managed to get all my bus and nights paid for and organized after feeling like quite the failure this week.

You're never gonna keep me down.

Penis Man

Just before leaving for the jungle, Alejandra and I went out with some friends and housemates (our "family group" was mostly out of town at this point).  It was a very enjoyable night.  We had wine and cheese on the roof while listening to Rodrigo y Gabriella and chatting with the new housemates.  Later we went to the Reggae bar, and even that was more enjoyable than I expected.  I expected a bar full of hippies smoking weed.  That's exactly what I got...but it also came with a drink, good music and even better conversation.  There was even a pretty awesome live Reggae band with a very impressive bongo drummer (I've always had a thing for drummers).  Around 3am, Aleja, Ted and I decided to call it a night.  Following the quit while you're ahead principle.  While walking home, a man on the street, who we hadn't hardly noticed suddenly grabbed Aleja's hand and tried to yank her toward him.  She ripped her hand away, and he came back and grabbed her ass.  That's when we turned around and noticed his penis was hanging out of his pants.  Yup.  Penis.  We stared a bit dumbfounded for what seemed like longer than we should have (though I'm sure it was only a second or two), decided this guy was crazy, turned, linked arms and walked a bit faster toward our house.  About 2 blocks later, I suddenly feel something touching my ass.  I screamed.  I screamed bloody murder.  I screamed as hard and loud as I screamed when I was in 4th grade and Kim Metzger's mom wore a halloween mask in the window.  When I screamed and jumped away from the whatever it was that was touching me, Aleja screamed and went weak in the knees.  I was trying to keep her from falling, run away, and look back to see whatever was touching me at the same time.  Turns out, it was Penis Man followed us. Once Aleja was on her feet again, I turned to the guy, the closest I've come to ever fighting someone.  Fortunately, he wasn't trying to attack us with the intention of following through.  More like a crazy exhibitionist.  When I turned on him he backed off quickly.  I was't prepared to chase him down. I threatened him in Spanish instead, though I felt about as threatening as a kitten. He just winked at me and played with himself.  Angry and frightened I grabbed Aleja and Ted and we practically ran home.  We ran into some police a few blocks down and told them about Penis Man, hopefully they were able to find him before he attacked anyone else.  


A lovely (supposed) last night out.

You can't talk bad about Macchu Picchu

I climbed up Macchu Picchu a few weekends ago.  And I hated every minute of it.  Macchu Picchu itself was obviously beautiful and wonderful and astonishing and all that, but getting there was even harder than I expected, and I expected it to be freaking hard!

We left our hostel at 4:30am, a half hour early because they promised us sunrise on top.  About 5am we made it to the gate at the base of the mountain.  From that point on it was stairs.  2 foot stairs up for 400 meters.  It didn't take long for me to feel like I was dying.  I quickly fell behind my group, which was better than the humiliation of them waiting for me over and over again.  One housemate, Alejandra, stayed behind with me and told me to shut up every time I said sorry for being slow.  About half way up, our tour guide was waiting for us with the girls in the group.  The guys had continued on.  He said we were only 20 minutes from the top.  I assumed that meant 20  minutes at his Peruvian pace.  I convinced Alejandra not to wait for me at that point.  Instead, Monica, who had kept pace with the others most of the way was starting to feel the effects of the flu she had had the few days prior to the trip walked with me.  We worked together to get up the mountain....cussing it out the whole way.  Incas, while an intelligent and advanced civilization, are not my favorite people.  Around 6:30am, Monica and I finally made it up to the top.

We were working so hard to get to Macchu Picchu, we were so excited (in our exhausted state) to finally reach the top!  Only to break through the tree line to find the bus stop.  In hindsight I suppose its kind of funny to expect to break through and be atop MP.  But that's what we were expecting.

Finally with our group again, we all sat down at the bus stop and ate our well-thought-out-packed-lunch (at 6:30am).  Guess we didn't think it out that well.  MP has a concession stand, but just like concession stands all over the world, its exorbitantly priced and we wanted to avoid having to buy food there.  After morning lunch we went into MP.  And it was magnificent.  We didn't have a guide at that time (he showed up in the afternoon) so we didn't really know much about what we were looking at.  Our escort for the weekend (not really a guide) rushed us over to Hyanapicchu to start on that climb.  I kept telling my roommates that I didn't think I could do it, that I didn't want to do it.  And they all wanted me to go for it.  Total peer pressure.

I started Hyanapicchu with a bad feeling, and was unable to shake that feeling the entire way up. It was so freaking hard.  It was stairs like Macchu Picchu, but narrower, steeper, and all on precarious cliffs.  Monica stayed with me again, encouraging me.  At some points I would walk up three steps and have to stop.  It was like hiking while hyper-ventilating.  A few times I had to stop and have a little break down.  It felt very very similar to my first cross country race, if you know that story.  I had a whole team of friends waiting for me, who were proud of me and cheering me on.  Which is both heart warming and humiliating.  It is so hard to deal with that kind of emotion.  You are grateful for their support and know they just want you to succeed and are proud of you.  And yet, at the same time, it feels degrading and humiliating to need it.  What this trip did for me was knock any kind of pride I had straight out of me.  A very humbling experience.

It took nearly two hours to make it the 300 meters up Hyanapicchu.  The top of the mountain was like a cruel joke.  Every time you think you're there, you find another set of giant scary stairs.  One of the last false finishes led me angrily take a seat and yell out "oh, F no.  F that."  Much to the other climbers delight or dismay.  Finally after many false finishes, we heard our housemates calling us from far above.  We finally found them.  To get to them we had to crawl through a tunnel where we had to take our packs off our back to slide through the muddy crevice, then climb a ladder up what were just giant boulders, balanced atop the mountain.

I had finally made it.  My housemates were proud.  Unfortunately, even though I logically knew I would regret it, I could not bring myself to enjoy being up there, I kept thinking about how hard it was going to be to get down.  Down is always harder than people expect.  Monica snapped one pic of me sitting on the boulder, but I could barely manage a smile.  It's annoying when your emotions over rule your logic. I have to say, I don't think this happens that often to me, but in this instance it did. I was so pissy and negative.  I'm sure I was a joy to be around.  After about 15 minutes on top, I convinced my housemates that it was time to go.  We started making our decent which took about 45 minutes.  The cruel kicker is that when you get to the bottom, you have to go back up a bit to get to Macchu Picchu.  Not all that much, just enough to  make me curse out the Incas a bit more.

Feeling like we'd been climbing all day, we realized it was only about 11:30am.  We went out to the overly priced concession stand to buy lunch.  Suddenly we didn't mind paying 20 soles (about $8) for a water.  After lunch our guide showed up and we had a two hour tour of Macchu Picchu where they shared the history and all that, which I previously posted. We left MP around 3:30 and had to walk back down the mountain to Aguas Calientes.  I was a bit demanding and told my roommates there was no way I was going to take the stairs back down.  We weren't in a hurry (our train didn't leave until 9pm) so I was going to walk down the road the buses take.  It was an 8km (about 5 miles) walk zig zagging back and forth, but completely worth it for the sake of my knees and quads.

We got back to Agus Calientes around 4:30pm, exactly 12 hours after leaving.  We collected our things, had a nice dinner, when waited for our train.  We had to take a train to Ollytambo where we were taking a bus back to Cusco.  Our train arrived at 11:30pm, and we found our bus easy. However (as a side story), there were 4 English girls who were not with our group, but apparently had signed up for the exact same tour.  They were on our bus and our train, they were at MP, they were on the train back, and they got on our bus back to Cusco.  Until the lady in charge of the bus KICKED THEM OFF.  Apparently, she had sold their tickets to 4 random Peruvians.  Their Spanish was pretty good, and they tried to reason and argue with her.  But she wouldn't listen and literally slammed the door in their faces.  All of us stuck on the bus, unable to do anything (later we realized that we could have had the two guys and two of the girls get off and give them our seats, at least that would be safer.  But even then, there's no way to know if we'd have been able to make it back to Cusco that night).  It was nearly midnight and this lady stranded 4 innocent girls in this tiny town that maybe would have had one hostel...if it was open.  Probably not even a police station.  I was sickened by this women.  I really really hope that karma comes and bites her in her ass.  The happy ending to the story is that we ran into those English girls on the street in Cusco a few days later.  They said they managed to convince the last bus leaving to let them sit on the floor.  They went back to their travel agent who booked the trip and his response was "well those kinds of things happen here."  At least they made it home.

We finally made it home around 2am, after the stupid lady wouldn't drop us off at our house and made us walk 15 minutes home.  Even more intense shit happened when we got home.  After being out of contact for the weekend, Monica, the same girl that had stayed with me for most of the hike, received a text message that one of her best friends back home had passed away.  The 7 of us sat in the hallway and tried to comfort her as best we could.  It hit me kind of hard.  I have a tendency to imagine what if someone I loved died while I was away (morbid I know) and it didn't take much for me to realize that that could have been any one of us who got that message.  To Monica's credit, she's a trooper.  This isn't the first of her friends to pass, and she has handled it better than I ever could have.  We found out in the morning that her friend died of Sudden Cardiac Arrest.  The same thing that killed Sara.

I went to bed grateful for everyone in my life, and grateful that I had the chance to experience something as amazing as Macchu Picchu, even if I hated most of the day.

A Cusco Beating

I will finish writing about Macchu Picchu.  There is a lot more story to tell about that.  At a later date.

This weekend we lose 6 roommates.  Thats about half our house!  I've become very close with them and am sad to see them go.  As it's been there last week, its been a big week.  We had our normal Wednesday night burgers, and Thursday we had a "weird food night."  We went to a local restaurant and ate what the locals eat...guinea pig, alpaca, and cow heart.  I didn't really care for the guinea pig, alpaca was good, and I surprisingly had a hard time getting over the fact that I was eating heart.  I'm not usually one to be squimish about those things.  Thursday night, after dinner we went to the discotecas.  It was a good night, but by the end I was a bit cranky and ended up walking home.  Alone.  (sorry mom).  Nothing happened.  I still had my wits about me enough to sense danger.  A Peruvian man escorted me for my safety part of the way.  But once he started kissing my fingers I thought I best finish the trek on my own.   It was fine.  I walked quickly and there was no one else on the street.  That being said, I'm not about to take that risk again.  When I was about at the corner of my street I heard a group of boys.  I don't think they even saw or heard me, but seeing them was enough to scare the shit outta me and I sprinted the last block to my house. 

Last night was our official send off for the roommates.  We hung out at the house, then we were off to the discotecas again.  On the way there I didn't see one of the missing cobblestones in the sidewalk and rolled my ankle.  Pretty badly.  We continued on to the club, I was hoping I could just dance it off with the help of some alcohol to numb the pain.  It worked for a little while, but by the time we hit the third club I was in some pretty serious pain.  Walking was a challenge and dancing a near impossibility.  I eventually and reluctantly gave up.  Monica, one of the girls in the house offered to go home with me.  I was really disappointed to leave early, it was definitely my favorite night out so far.

Today my ankle look like there's a tumor growing off the side of it.  I've been icing it on and off all day.  But I did manage to get my shoe back on to go to a Cusco vs. Lima soccer game!  I can honestly say that I never thought I would end up at a soccer game in South America.  Ever.  I'm glad I went, I got to see a new side of Cusco.  A much more lively side.  Usually what I see are very sad people on the streets, or very shady people trying to take advantage of tourists.  I feel like a better glimpse of what its like to live in Cusco.  At least for those people who watch soccer.

We had to take two taxis there, so our group got split up.  The stadium was a mad house, there was no way we were going to find our other friends (none of us have Peruvian cell phones).  So we bought our tickets, got in line and went in.  Unfortunately we were on the wrong side.  We walked in the Lima side.  the stadium is fenced off, so you can't just walk to the other side.  The away team is fenced in with barb wire and numerous police in full riot gear! There are also police in riot gear on the field.  Whenever the players go on or off the field the police create a line and hold their massive shields above there heads to protect the players and the refs. 

We quickly learned why there was so much police action.  The super fan section for the Lima team was insane.  INSANE.  They were jumping, shouting, singing, waving their shirts over their head, and setting off cherry bombs for the entire game.  Yea, that's right...cherry bombs!  They would clear a little circle, set off the bomb in the center, then jump around in the smoke. It was strange and also scared the piss outta me every time!  At one point there was a fight.  (why there was a fight when they were all Lima fans, I don't know).  But the police jumped into action, they grabbed some guy by the neck and dragged him down the stairs, then they slammed him into the concrete and hit him a few times with their billy clubs.  Gotta love cops.  It was really disconcerting to watch.  I was not comfortable with it.  The other people in the mob started dispersing after that and things calmed down thankfully.    Later when Lima scored a goal, I looked straight over to that section and saw all the women and kids running away from them.   

We decided it was in our best interest to leave a few minutes before the game ended.  Lima was about to lose and we were on the wrong side, we needed a taxi and I was a gimp.  So we left about 5 minutes before it ended, which worked out pretty well.  As we walked through the gravelly grassy area outside the stadium, my roommate Madi, who was wearing flip flops, accidently stepped on a stick with one foot, and then proceeded to get that stick stuck in her other foot.  Badly.  We thought it was stuck in maybe a half an inch, so we were just going to help her limp home and painfully dig it out.  A few steps later she had to take her flip flop off because it was bothering her and then she noticed that the stick was nearly sticking out the other side of her foot!  It was about 2 inches long.  We went staight to the hospital.  (and thank god we left early cuz it was difficult getting a taxi, I can't imagine how it would have been with the other thousands of people from the stadium out there).  When Madi got back from the hospital she said they numbed her foot, cut it open, got the stick out, and stitched her back up.  All for 20soles (about $8).  Cusco has a way of beating you up. 

That was my weekend, and its only Saturday!  Right now I'm sitting in Alejandra's room while she writes in her journal and Jesse uses my computer to edit his photos.  Still loving our little family.  Tomorrow we've decided to take a day trip to Pisac, a small town in the Sacred Valley.  One last family outing!

Goodnight!

The lost city of the Incas

I'm going to break up the tale of Macchu Picchu into a few different posts to make it more palatable.  It was quite the trip.  I'm going to skip over the chronological run down and start with the history of Macchu Picchu that we learned from our tour guide.  

As we were walking up to Macchu Picchu and dying and wondering why the hell they would build on top of the mountain....our guide explains that Incas built it on top as protection.  Anyone wanting to invade would have to climb the mountains from the Rio Urubamba.  Because of that, the Spaniards never invaded Macchu Picchu, they didn't even know it was there.

The Inca empire was pretty much the whole west coast of South America, with Cusco in the center as the capital.  All roads lead to Cusco.  When the Spaniards invaded and the last Inca king staged a revolution, the people of Macchu Picchu slowly abandoned it to make way toward Cusco to fight in the revolution.  Unfortunately, the last Inca king was captured and publicly murdered, effecting killing off the Incas.  Inca was a monarchy, so when the last Inca king was killed, there were no more kings, therefore no more Incas.

In 1911, a guy named Bingham from Hawaii decided to try to find the lost city of the Incas.  He knew that all civilizations are built near water, so he followed the Rio Urubamba, eventually meeting a local man who didn't know about the lost city, but knew about Macchu Picchu.  He took Bingham to the top, where there were 4 families living there!  But it was extremely overgrown by 150 years of being mostly uninhabited.  He got money from Yale University of excavate and research.  They spent a few years cleaning and sending artifacts back to Yale to be researched and cataloged.  Around the 1950's Macchu Picchu became a tourist attraction.

Unfortunately, the tarnish on the story is that Yale never gave back the artifacts that Bingham sent up.  Last year, the Peruvian government took Yale to court  over the stolen artifacts.  Yale gave back about 25% of the artifacts.  Peruvians are still hoping they'll get the other 75% back.

View of Macchu Picchu from Hyanapicchu the mountain overlooking the city. Macchu Picchu means big mountain in Quechua.  Photo care of my roommate Ben, the photographer.

View of Hyanapicchu, meaning little mountain from Macchu Picchu.  That was the second mountain we climbed to the top of.  But more about that in the next post where I whinge about how hard it was.  Photo also care of Ben.

Lake Titicaca

I've been slacking in the updates.  My internet is good, but a bit slow when it comes to uploading photos, so I've been procrastinating posting.  Sorry.  (Also, all my photos are in RAW because of the photo project, but more on that later)

Anyways, my first weekend in Peru I went with 6 of my roommates to Puno and Lake Titicaca.  I wanted to go to Lake Titicaca since I learned it was in Peru, but I didn't know why it was so famous, other than its 2nd grade funny name.  Well, it is the highest lake in the world.  At 3,800 meters (12,500ft) above sea level.  We took an overnight bus from Cusco to Puno, got picked up at the bus station at 4:30am and taken to a hostel to sleep and have breakfast.  

From there we got on an old rickety boat on the lake and taken to the Uros Islands.  Uros islands are floating reed islands.  I believe they were made by the Incas to get away from the Spanish.  The President of the Island we were on showed us how they were made.  There's about 3 meters of reed roots tied together, and on top of that dried reeds are laid criss-cross on top about a meter deep.  Then they just build their huts on top. Walking on the islands, you can tell its floating, every step sinks a bit.  

The Uros islands, while cool...are a bit of  a tourist trap.  They give you a little presentation, let you see inside their huts, then try to sell you things.  And boy did I fall for it!  I spent like 30soles on the island, which is a lot of my tight tight budget.  The President took a few of us into his hut.  Inside he had two cute little boys laying in bed....watching TV!  Yup.  And island with no electricity that is supposed to be living old school ways...the President has solar panels!!  I thought this was kinda sad.  Yea, its cool that they can bring technology to them, but TV, really?  Gentrification at its finest my friends!  Regardless, they were very nice.  They let us take pictures without charging us, which is always nice.  In Cusco, to take a picture of someone is 1sol. 

From Uros we got back on the boat for a 3 hour ride to the island Amantani.  We were told they didn't have electricity either, but that was a lie.  There were power lines on the island (not much, but they were there.)  We were also told they only speak Quechua (the native language) but our host family spoke Spanish.  One thing they did tell us that was true was that it was going to be crazy cold at night!  And it was.  But our host gave us hats to wear, especially for when we were sleeping.  (which she later sold to us).  But after lunch we walked with our tour up to the top of the mountain on the island.  It was 4,100m above sea level.  The walk was easy, not a hike, just walking up a path...but oh my god was it hard!  I honestly think it may have been the most physically demanding thing I've ever done....solely because of the altitude.  My body wanted to keep going but I just could not breath.  That must be how life long smokers feel!  The top was cool and pretty though, and I have a gazillion pictures!  Hooray!

When we got back down the mountain my roommates and I decided to stop and share a bottle of wine at the only shop in the community.  Its a really great group.  Then we had dinner with our respective families and they dressed us up in traditional dresses of the island and had a fiesta!  The dresses were great, a white tunic with embroidered flowers, two giant colorful skirts, and a belt.  The host wife made fun of my size the whole time she was helping me put this costume over my clothes.  Then they cinch you up with the belt...like old corsets.  Of course cinching the belt made the skirts bulge...to which the wife patted my belly saying "tu baby."  Gee thanks.  Peruvian women are quite small....does a number on the ole self confidence.  But the party was really fun!  me and the other two girls, Alejandra and Jill walked back up the hill and met the boys (who were dressed in wool ponchos).  We danced the night away.  Now I know why they are so small!  It was crazy exhausting!

The next day after a traditional breakfast with the family we got back on the boat and went to the Island Tequile.  We walked up the mountain to the center.  It was easier than the day before.  Then we had lunch at a restaurant type place.  They served us trout from Lake Titicaca that they had caught that day.  It was really good!  And they danced and sang for us and let us take pictures.  

After that it was a 3 hour boat ride back to Puno.  We had 5 hours to kill in Puno but it was Easter Sunday, so there wasn't much open.  We stopped at a tourist bar for awhile, then had dinner at a local restaurant (one of my only times eating out), then to the overnight bus back to Cusco!  It was a great trip. We're going to Macchu Picchu this weekend...can't wait!

The Power of Friendship

As I mentioned in the last post, there's a lot of roommate love going on.  In a family kind of way.  There are 14 of us in the house, and we all get along quite well.  We spend a lot of time talking about how much we like each  other and the vibe of the house.  Some have even been moved to tears (on multiple occasions).  I swear, we're going to start singing Kumbayah pretty soon.  We know how corny it is, and we relish in it.

Cuzco isn't the most dangerous place in the world, nor is it the safest.  I think that is why our house has bonded so strongly so quickly.  Most of us speak rusty Spanish at best and we're in this place that could really take us for granted because of it. I came in with a bit of a negative attitude, but despite my preconceived notions, each person in the house has managed to win me over.  Not like I'm the toughest person to win over, but still.  And knowing that I have 13 people out here who have my back is a very powerful feeling.

Tonight, 7 of us are leaving together on a night bus to Puno to see Lake Titicaca.  Its a trip I wouldn't have had the courage to do on my own.  I would've done it, but I would have signed up with our program, gone alone and been totally ripped off.  (we got the bus and the all inclusive tour for $95).  The tour we set up will pick us up from the bus station and take us on a two day tour of the Lake.  We will visit 3 of the floating reed islands and stay with an indigenous family on one of the islands.  It's going to be awesome.   Seeing Lake Titicaca is awesome, seeing Lake Titicaca with 6 friends that feel like family is epic AND awesome.

Without further ado, I present to you, my housemates:

Its not the best picture, but its first pic we have of most the house.  Left to right: Evan, who got cut off is from LA, Maddie from Canada, Ben from Germany, Jesse (Rasta Man) from Australia, me, Amy from Canada, Liza from Canada, Alejandra from Puerto Rico, and Rose from Canada.

Not pictured is Jill from Chicago, Elaine from Ireland, Adrian from Trinidad, and Min-ho from New York.  Also, not to be left out is Sylvia our house manager and Priscilla our professional chef.

Its a pretty good house.  I'm already anticipating how much it will suck when they all start leaving.  Whoever comes in is going to have big shoes to fill.

Settling In

Hola de Cuzco!

I'm settling into Cusco just fine.  My house is pretty awesome, there's lots of housemate love going on.

I got pretty lucky that the class was canceled this week.  I was under the impression I was going to be a teacher's assistant since I am not TEFL certified.  Turns out I'm not the assistant, I'm the teacher.  They expected my to teach on Monday, with only a 30 min crash course on teaching English and never seeing the site or meeting the women I'll be teaching.  If that weren't stressful enough, I never saw a curriculum and they handed me disorganized notes from the previous teacher 30 minutes before going to the class.  I was REALLY annoyed.  I was a bit indigent with the program coordinator.  But since its Semana Santa (holy week) and its a Catholic program, its canceled this week!  Sweet.  

Most of Peru shuts down for Semana Santa.  Cuzco mostly stays open through the week because its a tourist town, but everything's gonna be shut this weekend.  Since I haven't had to teach all week, all I had to do was Spanish class Tuesday and Wednesday.  I'm taking a week of private lessons then I'm going to sign up for a tandom program, where they pair you with a local to get together and chat. Spanish class was canceled yesterday and today.  So I went with Alejandra, my housemate, to the old folks home to help out yesterday.  It was incredibly uncomfortable. I have a hard time interacting with elderly when they speak English, these women if they can speak at all speak Quechua, the native language in Cuzco.  Alejandra and I both skipped today because our whole house had the day off.  They are ok with volunteers taking days off, which is nice.

Cusco, Day 1

My thoughts are a bit disorganized, but I want to share my day while its still fresh.  So bare with me.  

My flight was long, I arrived in Lima at 4:30am and had a 5 hour lay over.  I finally got to Cusco at 11, I gathered my bag and walked out the airport to an insane amount of people waiting to pick people up.  I was overwhelmed from the get go trying to find the guy with my name on his sign.  I finally find him, he puts me in a taxi, gives the driver instructions in Spanish that I can't understand, then shuts the door.  If I was going to give advice to anyone else wanting to do this, my first thing I would say is that you have be able to trust other people a lot.  I was completely dependent on these guys who I couldn't understand.  It was an uneasy feeling.  But, obviously, everything worked out.  We went to the office, then to my accommodation. 

My accommodation is so much better than I anticipated!  The house is actually really nice, there's a living room, (where my roommates are currently watching Hunger Games that they bought at the market for 3.5soles (which is about $1.50)).  My room is upstairs where I have a double sized bed with bureau.  I room with two 19 year old Canadians.  It's their first day too.  The view is pretty great and there's a roof top with a great view of the mountains and the city.  

My meals are provided.  So far I've had two.  And they are the best meals I have ever had.  Period.  (sorry Sherie).  I've already decided to bring home a cook book and learn how to cook Peruvian food.  I will take pictures of future meals now that I know they are so good.  Tonight we had some type of white flakey fish with onions and tomatoes and strange potato like thing.  

I had orientation today, it made me feel much better about this whole program.  I was very in the dark until I showed up. Again, with the trust thing.  Some tips I've learned, (I'm looking at you Caitlin!) there is no need to go through International Volunteer Headquarter.  I was happy with them until I got here to Cusco and realized that I could have volunteered directly with Maximo Nivel.  I don't know what the cost of volunteering with Maximo is compared to what I paid, but I do know that the guy who went directly though Maximo gets FREE spanish lessons!  I have to pay $60 or $70/ week.  

Tomorrow I get to learn about my project and see the site where I'll be working.  There's another girl in the house who's working at old folks home. She likes it there, but shes in the medical program. But at least I might have someone to walk with.  So in my house, there is an Australian Rasta man, a German photographer, a girl from Chicago (!), a couple Canadian girls, an Irish chick and a girl from Puerto Rico. Its a nice combination.  

Overall an intense but very good day :)  Oh and there was a parade today!

Dating is expensive

**Note:  This blog was written a month or two ago.  I never posted it because I was worried about how I would come across.  After reading the draft again I decided that it is kind of funny (as least I think so) and therefore worth sharing.  It should also be noted from the beginning that "Date" in this story (who's name I can not even remember at this time) is NOT, I repeat NOT, the same guy I am dating now**

Someone used to tell me that I should write a book about all the crazy messes I seem to get myself into.  Like when I got caught in a Pakistani independence parade in Chicago that didn't end so well for me.  Or when I called my sister as tornado sirens were going off to see if there was really a tornado (only to be reminded by her co-workers that I had driven her to the airport that morning and she was in Turkey).  How about the "Four room celebration of camelka" and Super K cape.  Or a favorite, how I accidently stole some guys wallet and then returned it to spite him and the horrible offenses he slurred at me.  I really should re-post these stories for nostalgia....I love my twenties.  My "wacky KP tales" (its a working title) are becoming fewer as I get older which only makes me panic more about my impending birthday celebration.

Anyways, I recently joined a free dating site if for nothing else than to bring some entertainment to my life.  Moping over failed relationships isn't something I particularly enjoy doing so I figured I could flirt with some guys, maybe get a date out of it, and hell maybe even get a free dinner here or there.  That plan back fired on me recently.

I planned a date with a guy this week.  I'm already 2 dates in with a different guy that I actually like, so I'm not that invested in this date, really only going out of scheduling obligation at this point.  He was nice enough though, actually could be a cool guy to hang out with as friends, but of course I could never tell him that.  A serious downfall of online dating, how do you go on a date with a guy and then say, "Hey, you're kinda cool but not cool enough to date me, wanna be friends?"  Regardless, we had a decent time, decided to go switch up bars at one point.  I start making the awkward fake grab for my wallet, he doesn't stop me.  I am a firm believer in equal rights, and if women want to be treated as equals (and we do) we should pay equally.  But I'm broke and under-employed. I make the awkward fake grab each time, with full intention of going dutch and not judging the guy if he doesn't offer to cover the bill.  And I won't hold it against them id he doesn't.  But man you earn some major brownie points when you pick up the tab on the first date.  Chivalry is not dead my friends.  Want to impress a lady friend?  Take care of money business, pour their drinks, open doors, make them walk on the inside of the sidewalk, and for god sakes walk a girl to her car (or door)!

But I digress. Back to the date:

We give our cards to the bar tender.  Date excuses himself to the bathroom.  Bar tender comes back to tell me that Date's card had been declined and asks if I would like to just put it all on my card.  I decided quickly that the kindest and least awkward thing is for me to just pay the bill, knowing we are headed to a different bar and he can just pick up the tab there.  Let me tell you, telling a guy his card was declined for $15 charge on a first date IS an awkward situation...there is no way around that.  We went to the other bar, ordered a few drinks and tried to recover from the awkwardness.  It was almost recovered when the waitress comes back to ask if we want a second round.  Mind you its still early, I say I could go for another, but Date responds that he only has $20 on him.  Well shit.  Not willing to pay for another round of drinks myself, we cash out, pack it up and go our separate ways. (He did not walk me to my car)

As I was driving home I started to get very suspicious of the whole thing.  Who goes on a first date with less than $15 on their card?!  And not have any other form of payment available?  I honestly wonder if he planned that, I feel duped!

I have to say, I feel for ya guys, if I had to pay for first dates I would not go on them!  I dropped 40 bucks on a guy who isn't going to call.  And the real kicker is, I don't want him to call.  Not because of this story, but because I already started liking the other guy and I feel guilty for even going on another date.

I think the lesson to take away from this is that dating.is.expensive. I could never be one of those rotten people who try to date two people at once.  Oy vey!

A Travel blog you say

5 days until I leave for Peru.  People keep asking me if I'm nervous or excited, and oddly I'm not either one.  I mean yes, I'm excited, I know its going to be great, but I'm not jumping out of my skin for it to be Saturday.  And that might be where the nervousness sneaks in.  I'm equally nervous and excited, which is giving me this strange sense of calm about the whole thing.  (180 degree revelation from the last post, I realize). I've been tying up loose ends here (ie parking tickets, camera goods) and beyond that nothing is really in my control.  I just have to get my self and my pack to the airport by 3:30pm on Saturday, after that I have no control.  I will be picked up at the airport (I'm really looking forward to it, there's going to be a dude with my name on a board waiting for me, just like the movies).  Beyond that,  I can't change how much Spanish I still don't know, or how much money I still don't have, I don't have to worry about accommodation or food, and I don't want to plan any social outings/hikes until I get there.  It'll be cheaper to plan when I'm there and hopefully I can jump on with some other volunteers.


The one thing I am nervous about:  They just told me I'm going to be teaching English at a nursing home.  Eeeek!  I don't know how to interact with elderly!  They are ignoring my years of experience working with kids and throwing me into an completely unknown environment.  Seems almost like "experience karma"  I thought I'd have it easy, just chill with some kiddos talking in Spanglish.  Wrong.  I really hope the old men don't hit on my.  I know that sounds arrogant and mean, but really, old men looooove me.  I don't know what it is, they always hit on me.  


There is a major holiday the first week I'm there.  Apparently they have a major holiday every other weekend from what I hear.  My volunteer organization was quick to tell me that my schedule would be interrupted for special events and that I will  "be asked to join in the regular, day to day care of patients during that time." Great.  I bet I'm going to have to change adult diapers.


Hopefully I'm way off base.  Probably.  Hopefully.  We'll see.  No point in stressing about it now.  To Peru!!

History repeats itself

Tonight, I am freaking stressed out about Peru.  All day really I've been stressed about it.  And it just dawned on me....this is EXACTLY what happened to me as I was trying to go to Australia.  Apparently I am hardwired to panic.

Didn't know I'm going to Peru?  Oh.  I got news:  I'm going to Peru!  For 7 weeks.  6 of those weeks I'll be teaching English for a volunteer program.

Now the problem remains....how do I afford it and get the most out of my experience.  (Isn't that always the case with travel?)  Earlier today I was depressed and resigned to giving up.  Now I'm feeling revived by kind words on Facebook, and a certain friend bringing the fight out in me and making me realize that I really do want this.  If I don't go now, I'm never going to go.  I might to vacation in Peru, maybe. But once I get that "real job"  its not like I can take 2 months off to go galavanting around South America.

**(side note:  I just googled galavanting to see how its spelled and was led to what looks to be an unbelievably awesome website called http://www.gogalavanting.com/, an online women's travel magazine that says this in its intro: "When it comes to travel, we believe people are interested in more than just the latest gear and reviews of ludicrously expensive resorts. We know that not every female is in search of the world’s perfect facial. And that people without trust funds travel too."  I firmly believe that that is an affirmative sign to go!)**

The bad news I received earlier is that the adoption agency I've been working for may not have the funds to keep me employed for much longer.  I'm pretty sure I can stay on until I leave for Peru but after that its a toss up.  The ironic part is that its all the work I've done there that has highlights just how dire things are.  Damn me, I shoulda done a shit job.  Regardless of my employment status come June, I only have barely enough money saved up to make this work.  That in itself is stressing me out, though I'm trying to remind myself that I made Australia work and that was a far larger risk.  I guess I know that I can make it work, its just a matter if I can manage to do everything I want to do.  I doubt I'll get another opportunity like this.

I learned that the biggest attraction in Peru, the creme de la creme, the Inca trail and Macchu Picchu costs upwards of $500.  And I don't have the time to search for the best deal because I should have booked it 3 months ago.  Irritated.  So I'm thinking now that I might go to Macchu Picchu for a day or two and hike a different mountain that is far cheaper.  But wouldn't that be like going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower?  Or Big Ben in London?  Or eating a Philly cheesesteak in Philly??  So I should just suck it up and make it work.  I might have to go to extremes, but I should make it work.  By extremes I don't mean selling my body.  More like banking on a tax return, closing out a forgotten retirement fund (again), and/or not eating in Peru.  

All for this view:

This could be me!

She's Crafty: A cardigan

Getting into my craftiness a bit more which may or may not be attributed to the addition of pinterest to my life.  Today, I was overcome with the need to do something or get rid of a sweater my Mom got me for Christmas.  It's a nice sweater, but a bit too big and a bit too blue for me, and I lost the receipt so I couldn't exchange it if I wanted to.  I found a tutorial on how to make a cardigan out of old sweaters from this neat blog.  It was pretty straight forward, but I have to admit, I would have never thought to make a cardigan.  Sweater cardigans are not common in my wardrobe.  I usually opt for a hoodie, but for that reason and because I now work in an office where hoodie's would most certainly be frowned upon...a cardigan was a great idea!

So between Samantha's 4th birthday party and the superbowl party I ran to JoAnn Fabrics to pick up some bias tape, lace, and snaps.  I started around 4:30pm with this sweater:

By 6pm, as I'm rushing to get as much done before the Superbowl, it looked a little dicey:

I cut the sweater down the center, always the most stressful part.  I used 1" bias tape that I cut in half and wrapped around the edge of the sweater.  The first go didn't work so well, but thankfully, I just cut another line off the sweater and none's the wiser.

My stitching is never very good.  At least in my opinion.  There's always a lot of "well, that's good enough" when I start sewing, so I  picked up grey 1" lace.  Neat trick....it hides all my bad stitching!

During the first half of the game, I hand sewed snaps on the top.  I've never worked with snaps or buttons before (they intimidate me).  It was a bit trickier than I anticipated.  Took a little improvising to sew the snaps on without showing any thread on the outside of the sweater.

And ta-da...well before the Patriots tanked in the Superbowl, I was finished!

I may add some embellishments later on if I can find any I like, but for now, I'm pretty proud of it.

The tale of the lost birth certificate

In the mean time, I'm also working part time for the adoption agency.  I didn't realize until this week, when I posted somethings about an adoption finalization I'm working on that people didn't know I was working for an adoption agency.  Funny stuff.  I apologize to anyone who that I was adopting a kid.  Funny enough, I think that might be a totally plausible conclusion for some people to come to about me.

The adoption agency pays the bills.  It was originally just meant to be me helping out an old employer with office organization until I found a "real job."  Then it suddenly became a "real job," funny how that happens.   My boss dropped an adoption finalization in my lap.  As you probably have guessed, I know absolutely nothing about adoption.  I don't even know anyone who has adopted or even been adopted.  But even so, my boss, overwhelmed by this finalization, gave me the project.  To make things a bit more stressful, the adoptive mother is fed up and outraged at the agency over this adoption.  My first email correspondence with her got me a response that started out by saying "Umm, Kassi."  Hell if that didn't piss me off.  But I used my professional prowess to send her a straightforward, yet kind email in response.  Eventually easing her over enough to not be so rude to me!  In the end, she made me feel really bad for her that all she wants is to finalize the adoption and be able to legally say that her baby is hers.  So I promised her I would take care of it, and I would take care of it quickly.

Then I realized I just promised something to someone, that I didn't have the slightest idea of how to do.

First I had to figure out what an adoption finalization is, and how to do it.  I spent the first few days emailing lawyers, adoption clerks at the court house, and even other agencies and asking them "how do I do an adoption finalization?"  Another local agency, our competition actually, was kind enough to give me a list of all the forms and paperwork I needed to get.  The finalization takes place at least 6 months after an adopted child has been living with the adoptive parent(s).  Everything becomes official once the finalization is complete and a new birth certificate, listing the adoptive parents as the parents of the child is generated.  It is pretty much the piece de resistance of adoptions.  The list the other agency gave me was quite intensive, and we were missing a lot of pieces.  None more crucial than the original birth certificate of the baby. On top of that though, our lawyer consultant (who normally would do the finalization but is quite expensive) informed me that we needed a few special motions because our case had special circumstances.  So I:

• pulled together the forms needed for the birth mother and the adoptive mother.  They each needed to sign and notarize about 6 different forms. 
• Found the forms from the court that the agency needed to fill out.  Not being a licensed social worker, I thought that my boss would need to fill them out.  But in the time it took me to corral her into the conference room and actually read and sign the forms, I was able to read through them and figure out how to do them on my own.  
• I got the lawyer to send me an example of a Motion to Waive Notice and a Motion to Approve the Open Adoption Agreement.  These were needed because of the special circumstances of this case.  What I find funny about the motions, is that they are in total lawyer jargon.  Complete with Hereto and wherefore and such.  It seems strange that I'm just typing up this super important court document in word on my laptop.  But that's what I did.  
• The biggest, most important, most complicated piece of the puzzle is the child's birth certificate.  Now we are supposed to have the birth certificate.  We did not have it.  I don't know if we had it at one point and lost it, if someone else had it, or what.  Fact remained, we didn't have it.  I figured out you get those from the Registry of Vital Statistics.  According to their website, you only need to know the birth date, birth place, and child's name to get the certificate.  It was too good to be true.  I called the office many times, only to ever get a voicemail.  I finally decided to go talk to someone, so I drove out to Dorchester (its right by the UMass Boston campus...very very pretty!).  I learned that you have to be a parent to get the certificate (duh!) and that if the parents are not married at the time of birth, the record is automatically restricted.  Being that we are the adoption agency and until the finalization is complete we technically have guardianship of the baby, we are allowed to get the certificate...but it takes a helluva lot of forms to get it.  I went back the next day with the birth mother's surrender, a copy of the agency's license, a copy of my boss's social work license, a letter that I wrote stating that I am an employee of the agency, a copy of my driver's license.  It took about 15 minutes of the guy checking with people to see if he could give me the the birth certificate...but he did!  I got it!  I got the birth certificate!  It has been a long time since I felt so happy and accomplished and all over a form for a kid I've never met!

So that's where we stand with the finalization.  I have more forms to send to the respective mothers, and still waiting on forms I sent them to come in.  My boss has to ok another form I made up and then we take all 75 million forms and letters and affidavits and motions to the adoption clerk and hope and pray that he doesn't say I did it all wrong.

Ebbs and Flows

Unfortunately, my life just isn't as consistently interesting enough to keep my blog up as I had hoped it would be. Or maybe, I need to re-frame how I view things.  Regardless:  an update.

So November and December were hard months for me.  There was my usual dislike for the holiday season and my new found dislike of cold weather to confront.  Along with my stagnant professional life and to top if all off things didn't go so well with Cute Red Head.  (I really thought with a first date story like we had, it would have lasted longer--oh well).  So I wallowed for for awhile.  Some of the wallowing I did in Mexico, which was awesome.  (That's where the re-framing part comes it, cuz that was really cool, but I was stuck in my own downward spiral at the time).

What wallowing does do for you, is it gives you a chance to think.  Think of all the things you want to change, and it give you the courage to change them.  At least for me it does.  In my wallowing, I was able to get a gig in a holiday market selling Rwandan baskets.  It was somewhat hokey, but I met some cool people and I saved enough money to completely pay off my Mexico trip, all other debt (excluding student loans of course) and still have a fair bit left for my next adventure.

I also networked my way into a volunteer position at my favorite non-profit public health organization.  I say networked my way in....I kind of stalked my way in, but more on that later. This.Is.Huge.  This organization has so many resumes come through not only for jobs but also for volunteer positions.  (In fact, another volunteer was going through and sending out thank you denial letters to all the other volunteer applicants this week because they are all full up).  It feels like a job, I treat it like a job, but it does not pay.  And for the moment, that is ok with me.  I am so excited to be a part of the work they do that I'm happy to enter data or stuff envelopes for hours on end for free.  Obviously, I won't be able to sustain this indefinitely because, well, I need a job.  But for now, I'm so pumped everyday that I get to go in to the office.  This volunteer gig is a huge opportunity and will open a lot of doors for me.  After volunteering two days, I discovered a global health fellowship program, which I am in the process of applying for.   I'm also in the process of stalking, I mean networking, with everyone who has a connection to the global health fellowships.  So wish me luck!  Because it could be everything I've been looking for!

The Thing About Facebook Birthdays Is

I hate them.

There is not a day that goes by where at least one of my FB friends has a birthday.  Facebook is kind enough to remind me of my friends aging, which I do appreciate.  But just because facebook tells me its Stacy's birthday, I am obliged to write the standard message on Raquel's wall. (I don't know a single person named Raquel).  So I am writing this blog as an apology to all the friends who have had a birthday and not received the standard FB message from me.  Its not because I don't care that its your day, I just didn't say so on FB.  To be fair, there are a number of people on facebook that I wouldn't normally call up on their birthday to chat with, so it feels a bit fake to write it on their walls.  But now I'm stuck in this conundrum of how do I say happy birthday to those I care about without looking like a bitch to those who maybe I don't.  I suppose the easy thing to do is go all or nothing.  But all is overwhelming and nothing is boring.

The thing about opinions is...

I have them.  Lots of them.  And I share them, frequently.  If you're one of my 6 followers you probably already know this.  I post a lot of articles on Facebook. Most of them political.  And all in hopes that someone who doesn't agree with me will actually read it.  Make a conservative see the light of day?  I acknowledge that this is a stratus cloud fantasy, but I still hold hope.  Maybe its the Pollyanna in me.  I know I've offended my fair share of Facebookers.  But to me, its all for a good cause.

On the flip side, I do read what my friends post.  Not that they will be able to change my mind, but out of genuine curiosity about what they feel strongly enough about to post.  Most the time I can let the  jargon pass with a judgmental roll of the eyes.  Occasionally I can not.  Then I get entangled in a heated back and forth.  Some might question why how I get along with said friends, sometimes I do as well.  But I hold on to them with the fleeting hope that something, anything, I said made the least bit of sense to them. 

That is all a way to say:

-I will forever keep posting political articles and tidbits.
-I will hold you accountable for the things you post, therefore don't post anything you are not willing or able to defend.


Some other facebook rules not related to politics though just as likely to offend:

-I do not, under any circumstances care to read about anything that comes out of your baby.  Doesn't matter which end or whether its good or bad news.  If its on the reverse track, keep it within the family.
-I will not wish you a happy birthday on Facebook.  Sorry.  Its generic and meaningless.  Though I really do appreciate all the birthday messages I get on my birthday.  I realize that this is a double standard.  Again, sorry.