After 451 days of having one shower option (freezing glacial cold), I took a hot shower in site. Gone are the days of traveling 3 hours to the capital just to take a hot shower. Yesterday, I received the best gift I could have imagined: an electric shower. The silliest part is that the shower head has been installed since my arrival, but it has never been hooked up to electricity. One day last month, I asked what it would take to hook it up. My host dad said it was a matter of one part. The wiring was already complete, leading right into the latrine. (Latrines are usually several paces away from the house, but they brought mine directly into the patio so I wouldn’t have to walk far in inclement weather.) Yesterday after returning from the school, my host dad said there was a surprise. I almost asked if was a good surprise or a bad surprise, since one of my baby bunnies has been ill, I thought maybe it had finally died. But no. It was a good surprise. He opened the latrine door, and there was not only electricity hooked up to the shower, but a lightbulb! I would no longer have to bumble around with my flashlight in the dark, wondering what kinds of bugs were lurking in the corner. More than that…HOT WATER!!! As I took my first hot shower in Cashapampa, I smiled as the steam escaped through the cracks in the door. I tried not to think of the shoddy wiring, and the fact that electric showers work by electrocuting the water as it passes through the shower head. Glorious.
Clean and ready to go, I headed out to undertake a task I’d been postponing for two months: finding someone. It sounds simple, but it can be quite a process.
First, you must walk in the general direction of the village.
Second, you must answer all the passers-by questions as to where you are going. Using this as an opportunity to spread the word about whichever topic you wish to expound upon, this second step can take a while. For example, every time I run into a member of the tourist association and they ask me where I’m going, I answer that I’m going to speak with the president of the tourist association. Then I tell them why: to form a committee in charge of building and maintaining a tree nursery. For what? To sell native tree species to the tourists. Ahh, I can see the cogs grinding in their heads. Spending time on this second step is crucial to getting the word out on this project. Hmmm, selling trees to tourists? Interesting. Then, when it comes time to actually form the committee, some of the members will have already heard of it, and their interest will be piqued.
Step 3: Once in the correct village, look for anyone outside their house, perhaps hanging out in the plaza. Aha! Children! I approached with a smile and hoped they wouldn’t be shy and not talk to me. Quite the opposite. They came closer and said, “Buenos dias, Erica!” Well, that’s a good sign, since I was 45 minutes from my village, and somehow these kids knew me. They invited me to a mango, but I respectfully declined, saying I was looking for the house of so-and-so. They pointed me to the house next door, and even directed me to the correct door, since every house has 4 entrances and you can’t tell what’s front, back, neighbor side, etc.
Step 4: Knock and see who answers. Prepare for setting up a date and time when the person you’re looking for will be there. So I knocked, and an old man’s voice yelled in quechua. I could only assume he was asking who it was. I yelled my name and asked if the prez was there (using his name of course). More quechua. I repeated myself, and was determined to stay there until I talked to someone other than the door. By now the kids had come around the corner to see what I was yelling. Finally, the old man opened the door. He was hunched over and leaning on his walking stick. I introduced myself and told him I work with the tourist association, of which so-and-so was president. Was he there? No, he’s working in his field.
Step 5: Either plan on returning at another set time, or find the person in his current location. Today, the old man opted to take me directly to where his son-in-law as it turns out, was working. The old man warmed up to me quite quickly when I said I’d come back tomorrow and he asked me what he should tell his son-in-law about my visit. I told him to say that Erica had stopped by, and that I’m the only gringa living around here, so he’d know who I was in case he forgot my name. The old man laughed, and said it wouldn’t be necessary to come back tomorrow, that he would personally show me the field where his son-in-law was working. We walked across the plaza and looked down into a field where I saw a small group of people. I was shown the path to get down there, and found my person with his fingers deep in the nostrils of a bull, while his wife poured some liquid into its mouth. When they had finished, I approached and shook his hand that had bull snot on it. He apologized for the dirty hand, but I didn’t mind in the least. We spoke briefly and he invited me to Monday’s 6:00am meeting so I could talk about the tree nursery. Awesome. That went too well.
Step 6: Breathe and smile. 
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