A Good Day: January 30, 2010

What constitutes a good day?  Well, today I woke up by the knocking on my door as I slept.  I heard someone say, “I’ll ask her,” and I knew it was my sitemate.  We were supposed to meet in Caraz, but her colectivo passed my house and she swung in to see if I wanted to share a ride down the mountain.  Once off the mountain, I went to the internet place to make up some flyers for summer school.  There are several things Peru does right, and computer places are one of them.  You can walk into any number of internet places, more than there are Starbucks in any given city.  For 1 sol per hour (equivalent of 30¢) you can use the internet, draft documents, listen to music, whatever.  Even more numerous than internet places, are telephone places.  Who needs a cell phone when you can walk into a locutorio and place a call?  Same goes for mobile cell phone sellers.  I’m not talking about mobile phones, I’m talking about the people who sit on a stool with a cell phone, and you pay 50 peruvian centimos (18¢) to make a call.  It’s quite convenient, and when I landed in Detroit for Christmas holiday, I couldn’t believe no one was offering this service.  I had to ask random strangers to use their cells.  And where were all the street vendors?  What if I had wanted a bottle of water or a mango?  That’s another thing Peru does well.  You can buy anything you want as you walk down the street, without ever having to step foot off the sidewalk and into a store.  And if you’re in a city such as Lima, you don’t even have to get out of your combi, bus, or taxi.  The street vendors come to you, sometimes even entering the bus or combi, and selling things you didn’t even know you needed until they arrived right in front of you.  Why yes, kind sir, I would like to buy some nail clippers.  And plastic hangers!  And toilet paper, everyone needs toilet paper.  Ahh, the peanut lady.  I like the sugar-coated roasted ones. 

Where was I?  Not Lima, but rather the sleepy tourist town of Caraz.  Ahh yes, the closest chunk of civilization to my tiny Andean village of 300 inhabitants.  After making my flyers advertising summer school offered by yours truly, I walked to a school supply store and made copies of my flyer.  I bought some plastic bags that served as sheet protectors, and met up with my sitemate for a delicious ceviche lunch.  For those who are unfamiliar with ceviche, it’s a fish & seafood concoction marinated in lemon juice and spicy pepper juice.  It’s your sushi equivalent of a spicy tuna roll, but without rice.  Thank god.

Back in Cashapampa, I made the flyers more colorful with markers, and taped them up inside the plastic bags.  As the sun was winding itself down for the day, I made my way though town with flyers in hand.  I’m never out and about an hour before dusk, and I was surprised by how many people were hanging out.  Everyone was interested in what I was doing, so before I knew it, I had several parents excited about sending their kids to summer school for an hour a week.  Other parents wanted to know why I wasn’t teaching younger grades (the grades their kids are in.)  I explained that I’m one person, and I’m teaching four grades per week.  If all goes well, I will expand the grades to my after-school club once the school year resumes in March.  So I posted the flyers around the public buildings, with each time someone telling me to post it higher and out of reach, because they will get pulled down by kids.  Well, so be it.  No one can read it if they’re too high.  And since I’m giving everyone three days’ notice, the flyers only need to serve for three days.  After that it will be by word of mouth.