Gringo Sandwich

Disinfected.

 

Today is a day of photos and other odds and ends.   Enjoy.

Gringo Sandwich! (Only posing. Didn't ride it.)

I’m psyched to be heading back to the US for the holidays in just over two weeks.  I’ll be moving up and down the eastern seaboard seeing family, friends, and Kelly, but unfortunately won’t be making it back to Iowa for this trip.  I’ve lived away from home for the last 7 years and am used to not seeing family regularly.  Still, it hadn’t quite prepared me to go almost a year and a half without seeing them.  It’s gonna be awesome.  Until then, I’ll be here chugging along with work and other shenanigans. 

Matt and host family (LtoR) María, Martin, Jeisson, Consuelo @ J's Confirmation

 

 

 

I just took the GMAT (business school entrance exam) last week in Lima.  No longer studying for that, I’ve got some time freed up and am setting my sites on learning guitar.  Bought a cheap, piece of crap guitar and some new strings.  We’ll see if I can make it sing. 

"Get your lettuce!"

What else have I been up to lately? I helped disinfect a water reservoir.  I hit up the town market with some students to sell organic lettuce from their school's vegetable garden.  I pushed a trash/recycling project that I'm trying to get off the ground to the local government.  I killed the godforsaken ants that had stormed my room.  I read Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Lauren Hillenbrand, the author of Seabiscuit. (Hell of a story that follows Louis Zamperini, an American Olympic long distance runner and bombardier in WWII. Check it out if you're looking for a page turner.) 

Chao.

Boomerang Bits

No real big news to report from Peru.  Mid-service medical exams showed that I don't have worms growing in my intestines.  Thanksgiving was pretty uneventful.  Etc. etc.

I'm writing, though, because I wanted to post some funny passages from a book I just finished reading.  I'm a huge fan of Michael Lewis (think Blind Side and Moneyball) and just finished reading his new book, Boomerang: Travels in the New Third World.  The book follows the global financial woes we're seeing today, from Greek's insolvency issues to the debts issues faced by local and state governments, like California.  Lewis' The Big Short tells the story of the 2008 financial crisis and this book is a follow up to that.  The book itself was pretty good, but not great and, in my opinion, not at the same level of his other material.  Still, I found a couple passages from the book pretty amusing and wanted to share. Enjoy.

“As the fish lives in water, so does the shit stick to the asshole!” - German saying

(Arnold Schwartznegger on running for Governor, while him and the author ride bikes) 

“I thought about it but decided I wasn’t going to do it. I told Maria I wasn’t running.  I told everyone I wasn’t running.  I wasn’t running.” Then, in the middle of the recall madness, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines opened.  As the movie’s leading machine he was expected to appear on The Tonight Show to promote it.  En route he experienced a familiar impulse – the impulse to do something out of the ordinary. “I just thought, This will freak everyone out,” he says. “It’ll be so funny. I’ll announce that I am running. I told Leno I was running. And two months later I was governor.” He looks over at me, pedaling as fast as I can to keep up with him, and laughs. “What the fuck is that?”

(old Irish man, upset with big, bailed out Irish banks)

            Gary Keogh thought about how Ireland had changed from his youth, when the country was dirt poor, “I used to collect bottle caps,” he says. “Now the health service doesn’t even bother to take back crutches anymore? No! We’re far too wealthy.” Unlike most people he knew, Keogh had no debts. “I had nothing to lose,” he says.  “I didn’t owe anyone any money. That’s why I could do it!” He’d also just recovered from a serious illness, and felt a bit as if he was playing with house money. “I had just got a new kidney and I was very pleased with it, but I think it must have been Che Guevera’s kidney.” He describes his elaborate plot the way an assassin might describe the perfect hit.  “I only had two rotten eggs,” he says, “but by God they were rotten! Because I kept them six weeks in the garage!”

            The AIB (big, Irish bank with solvency issues) shareholders meeting of March 2009 was the first he’d ever attended. He was, he admits, a bit worried something might go wrong.  Worried parking might be a problem, he took the bus; worried that his eggs might break, he designed a container to protect them; worried that he didn’t even know what the room looked like, he left himself time to case the meeting hall.  “I got to the front door early and had a little recce,” as he puts it, “just to see what was going to happen.” His egg container was too large to sneak inside, so he ditched it.  “I had one egg in each jacket pocket,” he says. Worried that his eggs might be too slippery to grip and throw, he’d wrapped each of them in a thin layer of cellophane. “I positioned myself four rows back and four seats in,” he says. “Not too close but not too far.” Then he waited for his moment.

            It came immediately. Right after the executives took their places at the dais, a shareholder stood up, uninvited, to ask a question. Gleeson, AIB’s chairman, barked, “Sit down!”

            “He thought he was a dictator!” says Keogh, who had heard enough. He rose to his feet and shouted, “I’ve listened to enough of your crap! You’re a fucking bastard!” And then he began firing.

            “He thought he had been shot,” he says now with a little smile, “because the first egg hit the microphone and went Pow!” It splattered onto the shoulder pad of Gleeson’s suit. The second egg missed the CEO but nailed the AIB sign behind him.

            Then the security guards were on him.  “I was told I would be arrested and charged, but I never was,” he says. The guards wanted to escort him out, but he actually left the place on his own and climbed aboard the next bus home. “The incident happened at ten past ten in the morning. I was home by ten to eleven.”

Church, Earthquakes, and Sea Lions

Sea lions basking in the sun at Islas Ballestas

I'm halfway out the door to Lima, where I'll have mid-service medical exams and meetings for the next week.  But a lot has happened over the last month so I wanted to jot it down before I took off.  Some quick hits:



Kelly was here for a week. We went camping, took a tour of Islas Ballestas (Peru's own, weaker version of the Galapagos Islands) where we got 10 feet from some mammoth sea lions, saw a gazillion birds, and a gazillion pounds of bird poop.  The visit was a lot of fun but short, as they always are.

There was an earthquake while Kelly was here.  The epicenter was about an hour from my house and it hit 6ish on the Richter scale.  Kelly and I were still fortunate to find ourselves in Lima at the time.  Though there was no real damage in my town, people were still pretty scared as the huge earthquake from August 2007 is still fresh in their minds. 

The radio show, Gringos Locos, that Matt and I have started is going well.  One hour each week talking about all things American.  Food, music, sports, customs, it doesn't matter, we'll talk about it.  Check out and "Like" our raw facebook page when you get a chance.  Improvements are coming.

Sweet Aviators

Last weekend, I attended the confirmation ceremony of my host brother, Jeisson.  Not knowing the norm, Matt and I showed up in slacks and ties, way overdressed.  The church was packed and we got there late, so I stood in the threshold of the church for the entire ceremony.  The priest gave a 'no masturbation, no sexual activity before marriage' speech to the sexually charged teens to be confirmed, said some other things that I didn't pay attention to, and two hours later, we were done.  Afterwards, to celebrate the occasion, Jeisson disappeared and the adult males drank beer all afternoon in the typical Peruvian circle.

I'm going home for Christmas and New Years.  This will be my second time home.  I'm especially excited for this visit though, because I'll be home longer than my last visit, be home during my favorite holiday, get to see Kelly and for the first time in over a year, get to see my family.  Cool.

Off to Lima.  See you later.

What is Peruvian Food? Part 2

La gaseosa peruana

Food, Part 2

There are a ton of different fruits here I'd never heard of before, all grown locally. In the US you get used to eating imported fruits that were picked long before they were ripe and then chemically-manipulated to look fresh when they arrive at your local supermarket.  Two of my favorites are a fig-like fruit called higo (E-go) and a white, fluffy one called pacai (pa-KYE).  Oranges are in season right now. 

Very few raw vegetables here.  Matt and I made tacos the other night and every Peruvian was surprised that not even one vegetable was cooked.  The salads here are usually just lettuce and one other topping – usually avocado, cucumber, or radish – and covered in some lime juice and salt.  Not bad but not great.  Also, raw veggies pose a greater health risk, so I’ll often turn down even the rare salad offering.

They eat ALL the meat.  Chicken foot, liver, intestines, cow heart.  Sometimes you’ll find some pig skin with little piggy hairs still sticking out. Mmm.

Pachamanca

They are proud, think it’s the best in the world, though most haven’t tried much ethnic food or foods we see as normal in the US.  Most have tried the crappy pizza and Peruvian-Chinese food, but tacos, tortillas, peanut butter, barbecue chicken, and the like are all unknowns here.  My new site mate Matt has done a better job than I at sharing some of these with the host family.  They really enjoyed the peanut butter.

People are very generous with their food, always serving to guests and usually serve heaping portions. 

Family is important but it doesn’t mean the family eats together.  The dinner table is a transient, with people coming and going, watching TV, etc.

Inka Kola is THE soda in Peru, with Coke coming in a distant second (note: Coca-Cola makes Inca Kola).  Tastes like bubble gum, but, when served chilled it's kinda good.

Ceviche de Pescado

Couple of my favorite Peruvian dishes:
 

Pachamanca - A traditional Sierra dish that means "earth, cooking vessel" in Quechua, the indigenous language.  Dig a hole in the ground, heat up some stones (fire, smoke? not sure), toss in a ton of food - your choice of meat, corn, regular and sweet potatoes, green beans, a sweet corn meal, and more.  Imagine Thanksgiving, but cooked in a hole in the ground.  That's pachamanca.

Ceviche - Fish or seafood that's "cooked" with the acidity of lemon/lime juice.  Tender, flavorful, and, mixed with sweet potatoes and corn, a delicious combo.

One Year.

It's official.  One year in Peru.  One and change left.  Time to get wet.

I'm Back.

Host brothers José and Jeisson (Jason) and I on local sand dunes.

Forget Food Part 2.  It’s been three months since I posted, so today I’m doing quick hits and photos from life in the last quarter.  My first trip to the US.  My first visitors (not named Kelly) from the US.  Another American moved to town here.  Food can wait. 

Kelly bowled a 300.

I made my first trip home to the glorious United States of America (nothing like living overseas to make you feel patriotic) at the beginning of July.  I spent the majority of my time in the DC area with Kelly and her family.  But we were lucky enough to see Amanda and Steve, as well, spending a sunny summer day with them in Baltimore.

Justin, Josh, and I in the desert.

My flight back to Lima was delayed and unexpectedly diverted from Atlanta to Mexico City, but I got back safely and in time to welcome my friends Josh and Justin, whose flight arrived the day after mine.  Over the course of the week they were here, we walked around the streets of Lima, camped on the beaches of Paracas, and sandboarded on the dunes of Huacachina.  Josh got sick for a couple of days, but otherwise a fun trip for all.

Host parents María and Martin with son Jeremy

I was fortunate enough to have another friend, my buddy Chris, visit me about a month after Josh and Justin’s trip.  He was here for only a few days, so we spent the majority of time close to the Lima area, always a nice escape from life in my site.  Hot water, good food, and a beach you can safely walk along. 

Hector building fire-burning stove at

After many trips and visits and shenanigans unrelated to Peace Corps, I got back to site motivated to work.  I am largely working with a Peruvian counterpart and employee of the local municipality, named Hector.  Educated and motivated counterparts are very difficult to find in rural Peru, where the educated left long ago for the university and the city jobs and never came back home.  So when I met Hector, a friendly, university-educated man in charge of ‘social projects’ for the local gov’t, I was more than ecstatic that he wanted to work with me.  I’ve taken him along to some Peace Corps-sponsored trainings and he’s helped me navigate the bureaucratic labyrinth that is local government here.  Win-win. 

Matt dropping knowledge bombs on Peruvian children

Kelly was here for another visit in August and we spent the majority of time in my site, where I could enjoy having her here without completely neglecting my work.  I think she enjoyed seeing more of my site and getting to know my host family better, who's been nothing but nice to her and me.  She also got to meet the new Peace Corps volunteer in my site, Matt, a very nice guy who's a native of California and one year removed from college.  I found out just a couple months ago that PC was placing a youth volunteer here in Independencia, who would work alongside me (Matt now actually lives under the same roof). He arrived here just a few weeks ago and already seems pretty comfortable here. 

That should do it for today.  

What is Peruvian Food? Part 1

Rice. Potatoes. White. Peruvian Food.

Since things haven't been too exciting here, I decided I'd start writing on Peruvian culture and customs, like food, music, politics, and the like. Today, I'm going to start with food.

I live with a Peruvian host family and they prepare me dinner daily. I usually make myself breakfast, relying on an electric water boiler and gas-burning stove-top to make tea and eggs or oatmeal. When I feel bold, I make guacamole sandwiches.

Guacamole sandwich to start the day.

I eat lunch at a Menú restaurant in town. Menú is a fixed price/menu lunch of one appetizer, one entré, and one drink. Choose one of each from the day's list, pay 6 soles (~$2), and walk away stuffed and satisfied. Sometimes options are limited (appetizer 'list' is a soup) and sometimes they're great (ceviche), but no matter what, you can't beat the price. Actual food menus don't really exist in these restaurants. What's been chalked on the day's Menú board is all they've got. At first, I internally commended the few restaurants that had menus (one step forward), only to realize that their menus were ancient and in no way reflected the actual meal options or prices (two steps back). Come in a group of 10, ask for menus and you'll get 1 to share. Order something from the menu and you'll get a blank stare from the waitress every time. Solution: Menú.

Menú chalkboard.

Generally the food here is pretty good. There have been few instances where I really didn't want to eat what was in front of me. Chicken feet and cow intestines, which are ironically called cau cau (pr. COW-COW), are two notables. The intestines have grown on me, but the slimy chicken feet never will. My only real complaint about the food is the lack of flavor and variety. The typical Peruvian plate is heaped full of cheap, filling calories, devoid of color, flavor and nutrition. I'm looking at you, rice and potatoes. I'm so sick of rice I could cry. The calorie-boost means PCV females gain weight and the lack of protein means PCV males lose it (I lost ten pounds after two months in this country.). I miss people in the US, but man do I miss the food.

Pomegranate for b'fast.

I'm going to write a second part on food, but for now I'm going to finish things off with a list of foods and drinks I miss from the US that are difficult or impossible to find here:

- Cold, fresh milk (canned soy milk w/my cereal)
- American ketchup (sweeter, thinner here)
- A fat, juicy steak (cut thin, rubbery here)
- Good pizza
- American candy bars
- Bagels and cream cheese
- Macaroni and Cheese
- Drinks served at the beginning of a meal (served last here)
- Good service (no tipping = bad service = can't get a drink at the beginning of the meal even if you ask)
- Diverse ethnic cuisine (Mexican, Italian, Thai, anything non-Peruvian, etc.)
- Beer variety

New Day. New President.

Ollanta Then

Ollanta Humala, the nationalist candidate running for the country's presidency, won the election last night, defeating Keiko Fujimori by a slim margin. The former military general, who led a failed military revolt in 2000 and has ties to Hugo Chavez, has toned down his stance on a number of issues in an attempt to shake himself of his extremist past and gain the favor of moderate voters. But Humala's calls to change the Peruvian constitution make you wonder if the man has changed as much as he says he has. Will we see another Hugo Chavez or a man with "warm ties to the United States?" Time will tell.

Ollanta Now

Kelly's Visit Number Two

The Gringo Couple at Colca Canyon

Kelly came for her second visit a couple weeks ago, mostly to help me celebrate my 25th birthday. As if her coming here wasn't a good enough birthday present, she treated me with a vacation to Arequipa, Peru, a beautiful Andean city (and the second-largest city in Peru) surrounded by snow-capped volcano/mountain peaks in the far south. After a couple nights in Lima and my work site, we jumped on a 12 hour, bus for an overnight trip through the mountains to Arequipa. Comfortable, fully reclining seats (called bus cama) usually make sleeping easy, but, like on my Easter trip to Ayacucho, another zig-zag trip full of hairpin turns kept my body from laying still and me from sleeping deeply.

Arequipa Plaza and Church at Night

Our first day in Arequipa was a lazy one. I was tired from the bus ride, Kelly was tired from 3 straight days of travel, and, at almost 8,000 feet, we were both adjusting to the thin air. We checked into our hostel, an old, colonial style mansion, slept, ate, and drank some of city's very own beer, called what else? Arequipeña. We both enjoyed it, but my initial reaction was that it tasted like Natural Ice while Kelly thought it was similar to Heineken. Hm? Unfortunately, it isn't sold outside in other parts of Peru. Los ariquipeños, as people from the area are called, maintain a sense of superiority, thinking of themselves as separate from and better than the rest of the country. They're sort of of like the Texas of Peru, but not. They have cleaner streets, less stray dogs, more money, alpaca hair (mmm...soft), issue their own Arequipan passports as a joke, and make their own beer but refuse to sell it to others.

Volcanoes Outside the City

We spent three total days in the city, walking around, trying the food (rocoto relleno, hot peppers, stuffed with seasoned beef, cheese, and onions was a favorite) and drink, and visiting local hotspots. Early in the trip, before we'd tired of being tourist mode, we checked out an ancient, pristine convent that offered as many photo opportunities as it did creepy stories (nuns not allowed to pass beyond the walls). Later we made our way to the huge, smelly market, where we found everything from puppies to goat heads for sale.

View From Inside the Convent

"Goat Heads! Get Your Goat Heads!"

Later we visited Colca Canyon, an immense canyon twice as deep as the Grand Canyon that lies about 100 miles northwest of Arequipa. Colca Canyon has been in the news lately because a Peruvian man has gone missing there after venturing into the canyon with his wife over a month ago. After the woman resurfaced a few weeks ago, there have been rumors that she pushed him over a cliff edge. We didn't descend into the canyon but rather traveled up and up, at one point over 16,000 feet, to look down upon it from it's rim. The scenery and environment were pretty incredible. Huge condors and the biggest hummingbirds I've ever seen before (3 times the size of a normal one) were flying around an amazing backdrop of mountains and canyons. The air was thin, though neither of us got sick. Between water, altitude medicine, and coca leaves, the worst that happened was Kelly going pee every 10 minutes. Compared to the Peruvian couple, I'd say we did alright.

Condor Coasting over Canyon

Me and the Canyon

¡ Strike !

Been busy the last few weeks with work and fun, both of which have kept me MIA on the blog. I'll write this post and another to rehash happenings over the last weeks, and then things should get back to my post-per-week(ish) schedule. Today's post covers Mother's Day and the recent Cotton Workers' strike. The next post will cover Kelly's visit and the vacation we took to celebrate my birthday.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day is a much bigger deal here than in the US. Traditional gender roles are the norm here in rural Peru, where girls become mothers before they become women and, as lifelong housewives, get little respect from their husbands. Drinking, cheating, and beating are common. They may get neglected 364 days a year, but mothers sure live it up on their day.

My host aunt, who works for the Municipality, was put in charge of food (mothers cook on mother's day) for the town's Mother's Day celebration. The pot of stewing meat in the photo above was one of 15+ pots cooking outside my bedroom window all day. I've never seen so much food before. The food was delicious and we had leftovers, but it took us three days to get through all the meat and beans.

Workers picking out the bad cotton on
a normal day at the processing plant

Then the Cotton Strike started. After cotton prices dropped more 2/3 in value, from about 270 Nuevo Soles/unit to 90/unit ($US90 to $30), the workers refused to sell their cotton to the local processing plants, who were partially responsible for lowering the prices to these laughable levels. The people stopped selling, they stopped picking, they stopped going to the fields altogether. Instead, they went to the closest highway, threw down rocks, thorny bushes, and whatever else that could be used to stop traffic. When more than half of ALL workers in the district are cotton workers, that's a lot of protestors and a big problem for travelers and commerce that depends on transportation. Taxi drivers had no customers. Non-agricultural workers couldn't get to their jobs. Semis couldn't get their loads delivered on time. Children couldn't get to school.

Kids on the blocked highway.
I got rocks thrown at me for taking photos.

Cars were nowhere to be found and children were running litter-riddled highways like a scene from some post-apocalyptic movie. Even the Pan-American Highway, the nearly 30,000 mile-long roadway that connects North, Central, and South America, was shutdown. It it was hilarious until Strike Day 3, when I had to go pick up Kelly from the airport in Lima and taking the Pan-American was the only way to get to there. But there was hope. I had seen people drive around the barricades (where there were no cotton workers to threaten the passers-by). Also, the roads were supposedly only blocked during the daytime, and opened up again during the evening and early morning hours.

Fires were set

And so I left my site at 6 AM, hoping to pass the strike zones before rocks were placed for the day and things got clogged up again. I ran into problems right away. More than 5 miles of the Pan-American was lined with big vehicles at a complete standstill. Semi-trucks, tourist buses, and other vehicles not small enough to drive on the slim shoulder sat for who-knows-how-long with their engines off. Unable to pass this mess in the van I'd been riding in, I started walking. After maybe a mile I caught a small cab that rode the shoulder, off-roaded, and took me as far as they could go until we were stopped at a bridge by a man with a machete and a strong belief in the workers' struggle. We offered money to pass, like we had to all the others before, but he refused. The story goes on, but with more walking and small cabs is too long and unexciting to continue here. I will say that it ends on a happy note. I eventually got to Lima and the airport in time for Kelly's arrival and the cotton workers saw prices rise again.

Jesus! The bulls are coming!

Traditional Dress in Ayacucho

Easter weekend was my first official vacation as a PCV in Peru. Some friends and I ventured a half dozen hours in to the Andes to the increasingly popular city of Ayacucho. The city's 40+ churches make it an exciting place to be during Semana Santa (Holy Week). Processions, fireworks, bullfights, drinking. Only in Ayacucho can one find so many ways to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. People from all over Peru wanted to be part of the celebration, but few were willing to take the long and dangerous trip over rocky, cliff-hugging roads. Just in the last few years, when a new highway replaced the old roads and the 20 hr trip became a 6 hr one, did tourists start coming in troves.

Last week, I joined the gringo migration.

Trying the local alcohol, called Cañazo

Everyone tries to sleep on the overnight bus (with semi- to fully-reclining bed-seats), but few sleep well. They'd paved the bumps out of the road, but there was no getting rid of the twists and turns. Just when you start dozing off, the bus zips around a hair-pin turn and your body flies to the right and the left and the right. Now imagine trying to use the bathroom.

Me and Vivaan at Ayacucho overlook

Once we got there, life was good. Lounging on Thursday, after the previous night's bus ride. Full-day tour during the day on Friday, including my first time riding a horse (he was a bit small, but wily), my first time eating guinea pig (see below), and some fun under a waterfall. That night we had some pizza (good, for Perú), drinks, and dancing to celebrate my friend Vivaan's birthday.

Thirsty

Hungry

And then came Saturday.

Slow to wake-up from the previous night's festivities, we went in search for breakfast. Instead we found a bull run. They sent five through, one at a time, and we promptly joined. Below is a short video of the first one, at the starting point. Awesome.





Later in the day we went to the bull fight(s). Three bulls. Three deaths. Pretty gruesome stuff.


To cap off the weekend, Ayacucho put on a procession at 4 AM on Easter morning. Fireworks were set off from 4 until sunrise, when 50+ people carried a huge Jesus out of the church and into the town's main square. Crowd was an interesting mix of locals and tourists, drunks and Christians, old and young.

Kaboom!

Not Peace Corps. B Corps.

Here's a couple interesting reads on B Corps, triple bottom-line companies (profits, people, planet) that pay to be put under a microscope by an outside group (B Lab) to prove their commitment to the community, their employees, the environment, and of course, profits. Both were written by a Pulitzer Prize-winner Tina Rosenberg, who writes for the New York Times in the "Fixes" section of the Opinion Pages.

A Scorecard for Companies with a Conscience

Ethical Businesses with a Better Bottom Line

Training and Turtles

A couple weeks ago I headed to northern Peru for a week of water and sanitation training with the other watsan volunteers. The training itself was informative but, due to a plethora of power point presentations, made for some long days. One of the cooler parts of training was going into the mountains to check out a gravity-fed water system (as opposed to a system that pumps subterranean water up). My site in Independencia is flat and dry, and NOT green. As you can see from the photo below, my training location was just the opposite.





I learned some things, but mostly it was nice to see some PCVs I hadn't seen since I first got to Peru. Days were full with training, but once dismissed we took full advantage of our free time. Had enough people to play some 5-on-5 basketball - a real rarity in this country.




Found and drank some Peruvian micro-brew, a surprising but pleasant discovery in a country that has a limited variety of beers (the dark was good, but the wheat was kind of funky).



Visited some pretty massive ruins left behind by the advanced and pre-Incan Moche civilization.



Also, I made a point to visit the beaches of northern Peru and play with some turtles at my hostel. Surfing is big on the country's northern coast, but I didn't attempt to get on a board this visit.



Finally, just for kicks, I included a picture of Josh Love (we call him José Amor here) and a guinea pig, to share with everyone a beautiful mustache and a traditional Peruvian dish. No, we did not eat the cuy (COO-ee). Yes, Josh won the mustache contest.

What's on your face?

Without realizing it at the time, I made a resolution in 2011 to try out facial hair for the first time in my life. Facial hair experimentation is far from uncommon among Peace Corps volunteers.

For one, our job doesn’t demand a clean appearance the way an office job does. Some might say it even encourages just the opposite, as water and bathing is limited in many volunteer sites (I can’t use this as an excuse; I’ve got my own fully-functioning shower). The obvious result is facial hair.

Also, a solid mustache can be good for street cred. Or respect, as they call it here. It doesn’t matter if you’re more educated than everyone in town. All they see is a young American bumbling in Spanish about the importance of hand washing. I wouldn’t respect me either. Slap a mustache on that guy and all of a sudden his Spanish starts to sound smooth.

Finally, growing facial hair is a fundamental part of “finding oneself” for a PCV. “You’ll never forget your two years in Peace Corps. It’ll change your perspective of the world. You’ll come back to the US a changed person,” they say. But when you expect to change and you’re mostly the same person, a beard helps you (and all your Facebook friends) believe that you have changed.

And so on January 1^st, 2011, desperate for respect, anxious to find myself, but too hung-over to find the shower or a razor, I let the facial hair go. After a month I had patches of hair on my cheeks. I called it a beard.

Just last week I had “Early In-service Training” in northern Peru with the other Water and Sanitation PCVs in my group (PC 16). For fun, the guys decided to have a mustache contest in the month leading up to training. I felt good about the Fu Manchu I sported for the week of training. I then tried out a normal mustache for 10 minutes before getting clean again. I don’t know about Peru, but the mustache sure changed my perspective of the world.