Two Things I Love, One Thing I Hate

Helloooooo friends. Things here are busy-- I'm working on a few performance projects and on a reproductive rights workshop series with teenagers. I'm also gearing up for the next month, which is going to be pretty kick-ass: two weeks of backpacking in Arequipa and Puno with Sophie, one week training intensively with Yuyachkani, and one week in Colombia for Rebecca's wedding. What a life I have.

So, short and sweet updates are in order. Here I give you:

TWO THINGS I LOVE ABOUT LIFE HERE IN LIMA, AND ONE THING I HATE

One thing I love about life here in Lima: grocery shopping.

Rach and I take turns going to our local market, where the World Cup is usually blasting from several stalls (can't believe I'm rooting for Espana) and where my favorite fruit stand lady gives me free samples of everything, which is probably not good for my digestive system, but it is oh so delicious. If you are in North America right now and feeling pretty smug about your summer fruits, I pity you. Your fruit is weak and limited in scope. Here I can choose between at least nine varieties of banana! Here I can eat grenadilla (grenadine, maybe? I don't even know if it exists up north) or granada (pomegranate) or maracuya (passion fruit)! Oh, it is so succulent!

Then I go to the vegetable stand guy, who fills my enormous canvas bag to the brim with vegetables and charges me a seemingly-arbitrary price that usually is less that $5 USD. From him I buy cilantro and tomatoes and onions and carrots and beets and peppers and squash and, best of all, potatoes:

One thing I hate about life here in Lima: telephone norms.

We don't have an answering machine on our home phone here. So, you know, if someone calls the house and no one picks up, the phone can keep ringing indefinitely. Unfortunately, everyone in Peru seems to interpret "no one's picking up the phone" not as "eh, guess they aren't home," but as "they're just too lazy to come to the phone," and so they hang up and call again. And again. And again.

... Of course, since I am actually just too lazy to come to the phone, and since the call is almost always for one of my roommates who isn't home, and since no one ever seems to want to leave a message but instead just says, "Oh, well, if he's not home, I guess I'll just call his cell phone," this makes me crazy.

Another thing I love about life here in Lima: Camote.

Camote is Malato's roommate and is staying with us while their owner is travelling. He is, if possible, even more unfortunate than Malato: he has a chronic skin disease (possibly cancer) that causes him to bleed, constantly. Yesterday I caught him rolling around on my pajamas, on my bed, bleeding profusely. (My bedroom door will henceforth remain closed.)

But. He is so precious, and I love him.

Tours by Megan: Or, How to Make your Friends Violently Ill in Just One Week!

These are my best friends from high school, Emily and Lauren:

Three weeks ago, they stumbled off of a terrible American Airlines flight and into the waiting arms of Rachel, for I was still in transit, somewhere between Portland and Dallas and Miami and Lima. I got home around 5 AM, climbed into my bed, and woke up four hours later to find the ladies standing in my courtyard, trying to decide whether it was a good idea or a bad idea to go exploring on their own.

And explore we did. In 10 days, we wandered around Pueblo Libre, Barranco, and El Centro; we saw Yuyachkani's new show and attended a video performance/party at elgalpon; we traveled to Nasca, Cuzco, and Machu Picchu by bus, train, plane, and several combis; and we ate cuy, camote chips, and cebiche (plus the occasional Esnickers). We also missed out on a lot of REM cycles. Lauren and I stayed up all night and spent a few hours waiting at a gas station, drinking chocolate milk, to catch our 4 AM bus to Nasca:

Then two days later we stumbled out of bed around 3:30 AM to hop a plane to Cuzco, where we stayed at the incredible Hospedaje Caith, part of Centro Yanapanakusun, a non-profit that works to support domestic workers' rights. Here's a non-profit that's doing something right: all proceeds from the hostal support their programs, which include a home for young women doing domestic work in Cuzco; a radical radio program run by the young women; outreach in and around Cuzco; workshops with domestic workers and employers; and other really cool organizing. If any of you, dear readers, find yourself planning a trip to Machu Picchu in the next few years, I highly recommend staying there.

Anyway, we spent two days exploring Cuzco, then we slept in until about 6 before taking the bus/train to Aguas Calientes, the somewhat sad tourist city at the base of Machu Picchu. It was overwhelming: Europeans and North Americans everywhere, Yale "study abroad" counselors trying to befriend us (trying to steal our artifacts, more like it), restaurant hosts and hostesses fighting for our patronage. Yeesh. But it turns out that Machu Picchu was worth it. I suppose this is why it's a wonder of the world:

The next day Rach and I got up at 3 AM to climb Machu Picchu in darkness and to get entrance stamps so we could go up Wayna Picchu. Clemente, a security guard at Machu Picchu who does this hike every morning (the bus costs $7 each way, which is a lot of money for a twenty-minute ride), offered to walk us up. It's a good thing he did: we were hiking by moonlight up hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of steps, and I'm not sure I could have done it if I hadn't been worried about making him late for work. He also regaled us with stories of weeping tourists who had lost their entrance passes, a story that we saw reenacted around 5:15 AM by a rather unfortunate British girl. Finally, a bit after 7 AM, we watched the sun rise over Machu Picchu. This was spectacular, even though we were sitting right in front of an Italian tour group whose guide was going on and on about the heroics of Hiram Bingham.

Also on this day, the Domestic Workers Bill of Rights was passed in the NY State Senate!!!

Finally, all those nights of sleeplessness plus a bad sunburn and a pussing toe took their toll: Emily and Lauren ended up sick in bed for our last day in Cuzco. Whoops. Sorry, guys!

Pobrecitas. Plus, they missed out on Corpus Cristi in Cuzco, in which they parade 15 saints around the central square, each saint accompanied by his or her own brass band and dancers:

On Corpus Cristi, it's also traditional to eat Chiri Uchu, or a cold plate of chicken, cuy, cornbread, seaweed, fish eggs, and corn. Yummm. Emily didn't seem to regret missing out on this one, though, and we brought Lauren a plate to eat in bed.

Then it was back to Lima via a long-delayed one-hour flight, made tolerable only by Lauren's sister's pub quizzes, and then the ladies flew back to the States. Now I'm in week two of Normal Life after a whole month of travelling. This is an interesting adjustment, but luckily the World Cup is around to keep me from being too productive. My roommates are divided: one for Argentina, one for Germany, a few indifferent. Personally, I'm going for the vuvuzelas.

So that was the trip. Lauren and Em, thanks for coming! Love you, ladies!

Happy Birthday, Miguelito!

Congratulations, Michael, on leaving your teenage years behind you. I and this enormous Ekeko wish you the happiest of birthdays.

Also, a brief story (in celebration, too, of us not getting our culos kicked by the Brits): I've been teaching English classes this week, and my students and I were talking about the World Cup. Peru, as you may or may not know, has not made it to the World Cup for about 30 years. Thinking of the joys and sorrows of being a Mariner's fan, I empathetically expressed my regret over the state of soccer in Peru. Then one of my students turned to me and said, "But the US is in it!"

I, trying as always to distance myself from US hegemonic power, replied, "Yeah, but they're not going to win."

My student blinked at me, then gently said, "Yes, but it is an honor just to be there." It was one of those moments that reminded me that sometimes, no matter how I try, I still think and talk like a norteamericana.

/story slash deeply meaningful sports metaphor ... Happy birthday, Michael!

Back in the U.S.S.A.

Hello, world! GA is back from her journeys, SIM card full to bursting.

Today I'll post some pictures from the trip to California for Erin's graduation; sometime this weekend, I'll add some from Lauren and Emily's visit and our subsequent trip to Cuzco and Machu Picchu.

But first, congratulations to my little sister! Erin has officially become a Bachelor of Arts in Neuroscience. Way to go, buddy. Congrats, too, to Litza, Peter, Shruti, Mallory, Leslie, and the Moose, who reminded me several nights in a row what it means to party like a college student. Good job, guys. (Now go get a job. May I suggest a career in oil spill clean up?)

So. I spent the days in Claremont trying to eat as much American food as possible, specifically coffee from the Motley's new brew bar and burritos at Patty's. (Also pizza and curry. Yum.) That was delightful. Then Erin and I combed through the detritus left by outgoing Scripps students, collecting enough food to last us for a week. If we'd had more room in the car, we could have taken enough to last the whole summer, no problem. I even found a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's in the recycling bin. Did I drink it, you ask? Is my name Megan Hanley?, I answer.

Then we hit the road in our mumus for the most good-looking Road Trip you can imagine, with stops in no less than THREE national parks in one week:

Sequoia,

Yosemite,

and Redwood National Park, where there be elk, which are dangerous, so you should not stop on the side of the road to photograph them.

It was all really, really good-looking.

But watch out, all ye Great American Campers-- these parks are full of OSOS (bears... shhh, say it quietly, so Erin doesn't hear, freak out, and start wrestling the furriest thing in sight):

Consider yourself warned.

The bear-free part of the road trip was great, too. We ran into some wonderful buddies in Fish Camp and Oakland and Tillamook; I nearly froze to death, first in Yosemite and then in a

swamp; and we had a couple of great meals and a few epic fails.

Finally we met up with our parents and a Stanford Alumnae convention for two beautiful days on the Oregon Coast, and then I hopped on a couple of planes and jetted back to Lima...

The Cordillera Blanca, in Brilliant Technicolor!

Rachel and I just got back from Huaraz and the Cordillera Blanca. With the help of our guide (don't sneer at me, Michael Hanley: they won't let you into the park without one), a local guy and his two donkeys (okay, maybe that was a bit of an indulgence), a conservative Quebecois gentleman, and a new buddy from Boston, we did the Santa Cruz trek in three days. It was magnificent and perhaps a little bit more challenging than we had anticipated. Here's the story in pictures:

Day 1. Huaripampa: full of cows, cuy farms, and the occasional Italian resort.

End of Day 1. Smooth sailing so far.

Day 2. We catch glimpses of the mountain Taulliraju. Bring it on.

We're not gonna let a little rain get us down.

I vaguely remember thinking at this point that we were close to the top. I was wrong.

One day we'll look back on this moment and laugh...

Several hours of climbing later, with nothing but our strong wills and two packs of strawberry-flavored knock-off Oreos to sustain us, we finally reach the pass.

It was worth it.

The classic Hanley Vacation Shot, except that I'm in front of a glacier. Hi, Mom!

(It's worth noting here that this mountain was completely covered in glacial ice eight years ago, and now it's rapidly melting.)

At this point we realize that Rachel is suffering from altitude sickness. Time to head to lower ground.

Day 3. Oh, gosh.

Then Rachel's hands inexplicably swell to twice their normal size. Hmmm. That's funny.

Ah well, onwards!

Burro brawl just outside of Llama Corral.

In Cashapampa, at the end of the trail:

sunburned, bug-bitten, in caffeine withdrawal, but happy.

***************************************

I'm off to California for my sister's graduation, and then my buddies Emily and Lauren are coming to visit at the end of May, so GA may be a bit ocupada for a while. Expect to hear more from me in June.

In the meantime, if your curiosity is not yet sated, more pictures from the trek are available on my facebook page. And, if you're going to be in Claremont in the next week, shoot me an e-mail! I won't have a cell phone, so we'll have to make plans and stick to them. Just like in ancient times.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Hello to everyone, but a very special hello to my mom! As you may know, her birthday is on Tuesday. Unfortunately, I will be hiking in the Cordillera Blanca this week, so the birthday blog post has to come a little early.

Mom, in honor of our shared love of photos, here are a few new ones.

Whoever said I was the non-athletic Hanley?

This was after a game of futbol with my classmates.

5 AM, Easter Sunday in Ayacucho

Malato is no longer living with us; she has gone back to her true owner. Yes, she. It seems that I mistook her tumors for ... other body parts. An easy mistake to make. I miss her deeply.

In the Andes, just outside of Quinua and the Wari Ruins

The METROPOLITANO bus line was supposed to begin service back in December. There's still no sign of it, but there is a large cardboard model of the bus in a park in the center of Lima, complete with a smiling cardboard chofer (driver).

The METROPOLITANO motto?

"Progress is coming... The METROPOLITANO is coming."

Love you, Mom! Happy birthday!

Hay que tener fe, fe, fe

Last week Rachel and I made our Peruvian Performance Art debut at elgalpon.espacio's Cuestion de Fe (Question of Faith), part of UCSUR's International Theatre Festival. We created a piece that examined creeds/recitations of faith. I used the image of a shadow to represent the act of prayer-- a practice both internal and projected outside of oneself-- and did a movement piece while I recited the Nicene Creed, which is a statement of the central beliefs of the Catholic Church. Rachel sang the Sh'ma, a prayer in Hebrew ("Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God..."). And then we performed "Gotta Have Faith," by George Michael, which is an extremely moving document. (The idea was to finish with a recognizably American style of performance-- MTV-cum-musical theatre-- and also to not take ourselves too seriously.) Also, Rachel was dressed in a priest's costume that I rented from a lovely lady in Magdalena del Mar.

All things considered, the piece went well. I, at least, learned some things through the performance of it. However, I'm pretty sure our audience had no idea what we were getting at. It turns out that something of George Michael's genius is lost in translation.

Nonetheless, I got some positive feedback from my friends, which was enough for me. Next up: my friend Koki wants me to portray Marge Simpson as Ms. New York. More on that later.

Love to everyone! And CONGRATULATIONS to my sister, who has finished her thesis! She spent an entire year playing fetch with human beings. No, she spent a year pushing old ladies down staircases. No, she spent a year learning how to read palms. Okay, fine, it had something to do with proprioception. You can ask her about it.

And What Exactly Are You Doing in Lima, Megan?

Before I left New York, my friend Emily asked me what my day-to-day life would be like here in Lima. And I, jittery off of too many cups of coffee and the looming prospect of expatriation, had to answer that I just didn't know.

Two months in, I'm still figuring it out, bit by bit. The truth is that I am learning (slowly, painfully) to be more proactive. All the folks at Yuyachkani are amazing, but if I had thought that they would have a 9-5 work plan waiting for me when I landed at Jorge Chavez International, then, well, I was wrong. I'm currently working on a project proposal to send their way; more on that some other time.

Meanwhile, Rach and I are working on a piece to present next week at a performance exposition run by our roommates. The topic of the evening: "Cuestion de Fe" (Question of Faith). Our piece will involve some movement, the Nicene Creed, a bit of Hebrew, and George Michael (on accordion, of course). I will post about that next week; I am too jittery about it right now.

I've been looking for volunteer opportunities, which has been getting easier as I've gotten better at talking on the phone in Spanish. (It's harder than you'd think. I didn't realize how much I rely upon non-verbal communication- in both English and Spanish, really- until I picked up my movistar and tried to have real conversation on it.) The other challenge there has been trying to find a way to volunteer responsibly. I'm not really interested in contributing more to the non-profit industrial complex, especially on a global scale. (The non-profit industrial complex, hereafter called the NPIC, is the system in which social justice work becomes dependent on the State and private donors. This was articulated by INCITE! in 2004 at their conference "The Revolution Will Not Be Funded," and you can read more about it here.) Subject of future post: the NPIC in Lima.

Bla bla bla. Point is, I've been trying to find volunteer work on my own, without turning to the volunteer-placement organizations that show up at Idealist.org volunteer fairs (and charge you hundreds of dollars for the pleasure) (does that money go to the organizations that you're supporting, NPIC? No? Hmm. Well, then, where does it go?). And that's been slow going. But for now, I've met with two groups that I'll work with on weekends-- one, a community-based organization in Ventanilla, run by and for teenagers; and another, a weekly workshop at a home/school for kids who are HIV positive. Both groups are cool, ask for solidarity from their volunteers, and are looking for people to do arts/theatre workshops. (Subject of future post.)

During the week, I go to Spanish classes every day from 9 AM - 1 PM. That's a very good thing. I still make mistakes all the time, but I'm also getting better (poco a poco). My class is small, my teacher is a lot of fun, and I like my classmates. The only bummer is when I run into the occasional Ugly American. You know the archetype (Ipod earbuds firmly implanted; loudly jabbering in English and/or appallingly-accented Spanish, but usually English; spewing complaints about the traffic, the weather, the food, the people...), but meeting these turistas in the flesh is somewhat horrifying. No matter. I stick with the ladies in my class, who are all a lot of fun, and I choose not to speak to the Ugly Americans (and their brethren: the Ugly Europeans), or, if I must spend time in their presence, I stick to Spanish. That has the effect of shutting them up nicely, because it's painfully obvious that they've spent weeks or months here without learning a word of it.

Other Things I Do in Lima: Read. Go to museums. Exercise (though not as frequently as I had intended to do in my retirement) (eh, maybe next week). Cook Quinotto, a risotto made with quinua that is really delicious. Go shopping for exciting fruits. Eat. See shows and/or performance art. Drink with my roommates. Plan the upcoming trip to Machu Picchu with Rachel and my best friends from high school, Emily and Lauren. Study Spanish. Try to focus on living in the moment. Write the occasional blog post.

So there you have it, folks. That's more or less what I'm up to right now.

And in conclusion: if you give me your address, I will send you a postcard. If you don't want to leave it as a comment, shoot me an e-mail at megankhanley(at)gmail.com. Expect to hear from me in 3-5 weeks.