"What are you at zero inches from yourself?"
"Nearer to you than all else, is the origin of the world."
~Douglas Harding
02 June, 2012
30 May, 2012
The Older I Get, the Less I Know
The older I get, the more human behavior intrigues me. I once believed people are innately good, and gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. Then I was proven wrong over and over again, and there was a time I lost all faith in humanity. People are greedy and selfish and controlling and power-hungry, and don't know how to enjoy life. Priorities all out of whack. And when the human race conditions itself to seek happiness in things, and their possessions, and how much money they have (or pretend to have), and how many degrees they have, instead of building relationships with PEOPLE -- their friends, family, and strangers, then it becomes second nature to hurt people. Not intentionally, but simply because we have lost touch. We are out of touch with who we are, and so we constantly change. We are out of touch with who we want to be with, so we choose indiscriminately based on good looks or other unimportant factors. Then I realized that by not making it known what I want, I've hurt people. Not intentionally, but because I'm human. Human and imperfect. And that was the day I regained faith in humanity, because we are all imperfect, and we are human, but we are trying.
27 March, 2012
I want to inspire others to be stewards of the Earth.
3/27/2012 7:22pm Panama City, Panama.
If I were to win the lottery...
It would be a life-altering experience. But you have to think about what you would do with all that money, before you've won, and the money clouds your judgement.
Besides writing my book, I would build houses. All over the place. What would I use it for? Free housing for Returned Peace Corps volunteers? Youth programs, travel & nature outdoor adventure programs? There will be one in Colorado, and I'll put my roots down there, and I also need to find my mountain. I guess I did find it, but I need to find that view. Once I find that view, I will stay a while, and write my book. Except I'll need to go to Oma's attic and get my old journals. And there I will build another house.
Is that what I want? To take away lottery money from people who really need it? Wait, YES! I will use it responsibly. I'm probably one of the few people in the world who will use it for the environment, and youth, and animals.
And if I don't win the lottery, my book sales will afford me every thing I want in life. Because I already have it. It's always here. We just get so caught up in life, that we don't actually LIVE it. I want to teach others how to live. Not with schemes, or tips from The Secret, but through animals and nature.
Animals and Nature.
I WANT TO INSPIRE OTHERS TO BE STEWARDS OF THE EARTH.
A decade ago we had a guest speaker, a motivational speaker, come in and talk to us about personal goals, and that we each needed a mission statement. There's mine.
If I were to win the lottery...
It would be a life-altering experience. But you have to think about what you would do with all that money, before you've won, and the money clouds your judgement.
Besides writing my book, I would build houses. All over the place. What would I use it for? Free housing for Returned Peace Corps volunteers? Youth programs, travel & nature outdoor adventure programs? There will be one in Colorado, and I'll put my roots down there, and I also need to find my mountain. I guess I did find it, but I need to find that view. Once I find that view, I will stay a while, and write my book. Except I'll need to go to Oma's attic and get my old journals. And there I will build another house.
Is that what I want? To take away lottery money from people who really need it? Wait, YES! I will use it responsibly. I'm probably one of the few people in the world who will use it for the environment, and youth, and animals.
And if I don't win the lottery, my book sales will afford me every thing I want in life. Because I already have it. It's always here. We just get so caught up in life, that we don't actually LIVE it. I want to teach others how to live. Not with schemes, or tips from The Secret, but through animals and nature.
Animals and Nature.
I WANT TO INSPIRE OTHERS TO BE STEWARDS OF THE EARTH.
A decade ago we had a guest speaker, a motivational speaker, come in and talk to us about personal goals, and that we each needed a mission statement. There's mine.
25 March, 2012
Soul
As I approach the end of an era, an era of foreign lands, indigenous languages, colorful clothing, funny hats, erratic public transportation, and an uncertainty about what the future holds, one begins to contemplate the next steps. What lies ahead?
A good exercise to put yourself on the path heading in the right direction is a little game we'll call, "What would I be doing if I won a million dollars?"
I like the phrasing of this question better than, "What would I DO with a million dollars?" which indicates using the money as a corrupt tool, perhaps to buy things or people, or people's land, or their water supply. Whereas "What would I be DOING with a million dollars," at least to me, indicates a more proactive relationship with the winnings, and managing THEM rather than them managing YOU.
If I were to win a million dollars, what would I be doing?
Well, I'd probably be doing the same thing. Saving frogs. But really, I've been thinking about my future, and I want some things that it seems money is a small hiccup in getting there. Like kids. If I adopt, I would have to wait a while until I'm stable. And right now I have no job, no house, and no, well -- money. I'd really love to invest in property. Something in the states, maybe a rental in a college town, and a horse property, with land for a garden and flowers and trees. Then I would have another house in a foreign country. Something charming, with character.
My school loans would be paid off, but I don't want my brain to get flabby, so I exercise it with education. I would go to vet school, and get my PhD in a dual program. I would do research on oxytocin. The happiness chemical. I would research the brain's untapped potential. Also, I would get trained in a specialized field like Equine Massage or Chiropractor, and open my own facility. It would probably be non-profit and have a program for kids & adults with disabilities.
Before all that, I'd meet with a financial advisor about investing, and get bustling on making my money make money. I would live with a small carbon footprint, and advocate for a change in dependence on fossil fuels, not just petroluem which is running out, but on natural gas too, and at the least, build my house green. Who knows what that fracking is doing to Mother Earth? Our sacred Pachamama.
And give back. Even though I've spent my life "giving" I'll just keep "giving," or better said, "paying it forward." Because even though humans are violent and destructive creatures, and I had lost hope in humanity at one point, I still believe there are good people out there. I see it in small acts of kindness. I see it when I expect the worst from people, and have my guard up, and something is out there, insisting I don't give up on humanity.
I would make sure my family is secure. And that everyone comes 'round to visit my children, adopted or biological, or combo. And I'd get a hiking dog. And I'd train wild mustangs. And I would live off the land, the way we were meant to do it, sustainably, in sync with nature.
I would have to be very careful that millions of dollars wouldn't corrupt me.
I would somehow repay the people who have taken care of me in my life. Those who have given me food, shelter, love, advice, and so much more. Some of them family, others strangers, and others who were strangers who became my family.
This amazing video that a friend sent me:
And the day before that, an RPCV I met a the Magnolia Inn (where I met my 50-year-old Self) emailed me. We had been talking about my next career moves and she sent two pieces of information: 1) a course description from her Alma Mater, called "The Pursuit of Happiness" and 2) the bio of a classmate of hers who recently passed. Several points of interest:
"Doug dealt with life on his own terms and created his own dream job as owner
and sole (or soul) guide for International Collegiate Expeditions (1978-2001);
guiding hundreds of U.S. college students on adventure (or in his words kick-
ass trips to Tanzania, Kenya, Colombia, Ecuador, Argentina, Chile, Egypt and
Alaska. He identified himself and his adventure buddies as 'fun-hogs' and once
wrote that he was, a self-admitted cardiovascular lunatic, all-terrain mountain
boarder, bicyclist, snowboarder, mountaineer, and traveler (49 states and 23
developing nations). ... He will also be remembered for countless small and
sometimes big, crazy, and selfless acts of kindness shown to people throughout
his life.
In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to the charity of your choice. He
loved animals and the indigenous peoples he worked with, he treasured the
wilderness and giving young people the opportunity to experience the rest of the
world (as the Peace Corps had done for him), if that helps."
It would have been an honor to have met this man, and I can see my path going in a similar direction. The donation suggestion in lieu of flowers sounds like something I would request. I recently told my sister that after living in Peru and being able to buy bouquets of fresh flowers for less than a dollar, I would never buy overpriced florist bouquets ever again.
A good exercise to put yourself on the path heading in the right direction is a little game we'll call, "What would I be doing if I won a million dollars?"
I like the phrasing of this question better than, "What would I DO with a million dollars?" which indicates using the money as a corrupt tool, perhaps to buy things or people, or people's land, or their water supply. Whereas "What would I be DOING with a million dollars," at least to me, indicates a more proactive relationship with the winnings, and managing THEM rather than them managing YOU.
If I were to win a million dollars, what would I be doing?
Well, I'd probably be doing the same thing. Saving frogs. But really, I've been thinking about my future, and I want some things that it seems money is a small hiccup in getting there. Like kids. If I adopt, I would have to wait a while until I'm stable. And right now I have no job, no house, and no, well -- money. I'd really love to invest in property. Something in the states, maybe a rental in a college town, and a horse property, with land for a garden and flowers and trees. Then I would have another house in a foreign country. Something charming, with character.
My school loans would be paid off, but I don't want my brain to get flabby, so I exercise it with education. I would go to vet school, and get my PhD in a dual program. I would do research on oxytocin. The happiness chemical. I would research the brain's untapped potential. Also, I would get trained in a specialized field like Equine Massage or Chiropractor, and open my own facility. It would probably be non-profit and have a program for kids & adults with disabilities.
Before all that, I'd meet with a financial advisor about investing, and get bustling on making my money make money. I would live with a small carbon footprint, and advocate for a change in dependence on fossil fuels, not just petroluem which is running out, but on natural gas too, and at the least, build my house green. Who knows what that fracking is doing to Mother Earth? Our sacred Pachamama.
And give back. Even though I've spent my life "giving" I'll just keep "giving," or better said, "paying it forward." Because even though humans are violent and destructive creatures, and I had lost hope in humanity at one point, I still believe there are good people out there. I see it in small acts of kindness. I see it when I expect the worst from people, and have my guard up, and something is out there, insisting I don't give up on humanity.
I would make sure my family is secure. And that everyone comes 'round to visit my children, adopted or biological, or combo. And I'd get a hiking dog. And I'd train wild mustangs. And I would live off the land, the way we were meant to do it, sustainably, in sync with nature.
I would have to be very careful that millions of dollars wouldn't corrupt me.
I would somehow repay the people who have taken care of me in my life. Those who have given me food, shelter, love, advice, and so much more. Some of them family, others strangers, and others who were strangers who became my family.
This amazing video that a friend sent me:
And the day before that, an RPCV I met a the Magnolia Inn (where I met my 50-year-old Self) emailed me. We had been talking about my next career moves and she sent two pieces of information: 1) a course description from her Alma Mater, called "The Pursuit of Happiness" and 2) the bio of a classmate of hers who recently passed. Several points of interest:
"Doug dealt with life on his own terms and created his own dream job as owner
and sole (or soul) guide for International Collegiate Expeditions (1978-2001);
guiding hundreds of U.S. college students on adventure (or in his words kick-
ass trips to Tanzania, Kenya, Colombia, Ecuador, Argentina, Chile, Egypt and
Alaska. He identified himself and his adventure buddies as 'fun-hogs' and once
wrote that he was, a self-admitted cardiovascular lunatic, all-terrain mountain
boarder, bicyclist, snowboarder, mountaineer, and traveler (49 states and 23
developing nations). ... He will also be remembered for countless small and
sometimes big, crazy, and selfless acts of kindness shown to people throughout
his life.
In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to the charity of your choice. He
loved animals and the indigenous peoples he worked with, he treasured the
wilderness and giving young people the opportunity to experience the rest of the
world (as the Peace Corps had done for him), if that helps."
It would have been an honor to have met this man, and I can see my path going in a similar direction. The donation suggestion in lieu of flowers sounds like something I would request. I recently told my sister that after living in Peru and being able to buy bouquets of fresh flowers for less than a dollar, I would never buy overpriced florist bouquets ever again.
22 March, 2012
Erica's World
"We are the arquitects of our own lives." Someone said that once, right?
But what if you find yourself reflecting upon your own life, and it seems kind of, well -- made up?
As I was walking down a rainforest path, after having seen a geographic feature in real life that I had onced dreamt many years ago, I entertained the thought that I don't really exist. I bring this up to my friend (who I met the day before, and we settled in as if we'd known each other for a lifetime), and ponder if life could be so far off from the Matrix. I look down at my feet, and there are these beautiful cement bricks laid long ago that have been
Ok, I must pause here. It is 7:33am. I need to get these thoughts out before I head out for the day. With my roommate still sleeping, I put on my headphones and open iTunes. After a few shuffled songs of various artists, I crave Eddie Vedder's voice. I start with "Hunger Strike" from back in the day of Temple of the Dog. Then I'm hooked, that's EXACTLY whose voice I want to hear today. I set up random shuffle for all Pearl Jam songs. I have so many songs in many versions, from different live acts, that I haven't heard them all. The next random song is "Soon Forget" live from Seattle 11-6-2000. It is yukelele-based, and since I was really craving Eddie Vedder's voice, I almost fast-forwarded it to something more vocal. "No, I'll keep it playing," I thought, because I wanted to quickly open a Word Document (where I jot down my thoughts & ideas) before I forgot. I remember formulating a hair-brained plan to invite Pearl Jam to Panama for some kind of benefit concert, since I know Eddie is into causes. I type a few different lines before I find one I like: "Save the Frogs Benefit Concert -- PEARL JAM, Panama City, Panama." I change the font and size, save it, and continue writing this blog. The song I was going to fast-forward ends, and I hear Eddie's voice saying, "Now while we have a microphone and we have a platform for the last time in a long time we have to be home, I'm just going to say something that really didn't affect the show at all and mostly thanks to you for having such good energy, but we had a frustrating period in the last two days dealing with the city. And even though this is a show where all the proceeds, every dollar that you spent, is going to a number of different organizations in the city, a few nationally, I think it's almost $500,000 in two days, I'm guessing, but I think that's it. I don't know if it's post WTO-syndrome or something, but they're really paranoid in this city these days and really overcompensating with security and in fact, if every one of you left right now and only the security people were here, and no offense -- I'm sure some of you are nice people, but there would be 270 people in yellow shirts which is a bigger crowd than most small bands get. It's bordering on ridiculous. And I think we feel the need publicly to say that that's a cost usually $6,000 for security. Tonight, because the city was demanding this of us to have this show, they were. It's insulting, because of what we went through in Denmark, the last thing that we're even going to open ourselves up to is some kind of unsafe situation. And for them to go overboard on us, and you ask when will you get some respect in this town? When will music get some respect in this f*cking town? Let the kids go to teen dance shows, let them go to dance clubs, let them have an outlet. Look at this crowd tonight. They've been well-behaved. I've been to a number of other things where people are well-behaved. Give youth some responsibility to be able to prove themselves. They handled themselves much better than most people at SeaHawks games, believe me. So the cost of tonight, I don't know if it was just tonight or if it was over the two nights, but instead of $6,000 it was $25,000 for the extra people in yellow shirts, and that's $25,000 that's not going to go to one or a few of the groups that needed it. And I just feel like we needed to air that out so we can sleep well tonight and feel like we did a good job."
Okay, I'll start over:
"We are the arquitects of our own lives." Someone said that once, right?
But what if you find yourself reflecting upon your own life, and it seems kind of, well -- made up?
As I was walking down a rainforest path, after having seen a geographic feature in real life that I had onced dreamt many years ago, I entertained the thought that I don't really exist. I bring this up to my friend (who I met the day before, and we settled in as if we'd known each other for a lifetime), and ponder if life could be so far off from the Matrix. I look down at my feet, and there are these beautiful cement bricks laid long ago that have been left to the elements, to shift and get overgrown to their cement hearts' desire. They are beautiful, and magical, and exactly what I would expect to see if I were in Narnia, or if I were designing the set of my Life.
Life does seem just a bit juvenile, with a creative design that could only be bridled by the constraints of the mind of, let's say...a 5-year-old Me.
If 5-year-old Me were to invent my surroundings, what would they look like? Well, I'm 5. So I like school buses. But not just plain school buses, but super-decked-out school buses painted with whimsical designs, and feather boas hanging from the windshield, and stickers everywhere. Ooooooh, and lights. YES! Let's put some strings of lights on the buses. And every morning going to work, let's pass through PARADISE. But wait, let's make it exotic, so we'll speak Spanish, and we'll call it PARAISO. Oh yeah, that's better.
Ok, so I'm still 5, and I have to work. So what would I like to do? ooh ooh, FROGS! Yes, I love frogs! Okay, I'm going to work with frogs. But wait, this is my Life, let's make it good. I want to work with extinct frogs. Wait, EXTINCT frogs?!?!? Yes, Erica, extinct in the wild. Ok, that WOULD be cool, to try to save the little froggies who are being killed off by this big bad EVIL fungus. Where should these frog tanks be placed? Hmmm, I know! A ZOO!! Yes, ok, a zoo. But I'm 5, so I get bored, so let's make another frog project in another zoo. This time in a magical land of volcanoes. Perhaps a cloudforest? How about a cloudforest valley that was created by volcanoes eons ago? That sounds cool. Let's call it the VALLEY, because I'm 5 and that's the best I can think of. But let's make it Spanish so it sounds more exotic: EL VALLE. Sweet. But I want to make it MY valley, so since I live in Ancon, I'll call it something similar: EL VALLE DE ANTON. Just so my friends' parents don't get lost when they come over to drop off my friends. And over in El Valle, we're going to save more magical extinct frogs. Let's call them Panamanian GOLDEN frogs. And from there, I better check out my surroundings. I think I'll invent some beautiful lush green MOUNTAINS that come soaring out of the ground like the dormant volcanoes they are. I did have a dream with some cool mountains in it, let me invent those. And I'll make the climate cooler, so it'll be the perfect temperature and it will rain a little. What 5-year-old doesn't love to play in the RAIN?
Ok, my World is soooooo cool, I wonder what else we can do? I love climbing trees. Let's make special trees. How? Hmmm, I know! Tree trunks are usually round, so I wanna make my trees different. I know I know! A different shape...how about square? Yes, SQUARE trees. And I like hot tubs, but we're in nature, so I'll invent natural hot SPRINGS. ooh ooh, I almost forgot my favorite activity -- horseback riding! I'll put lots of pretty HORSES here so I can go HORSEBACK RIDING whenever I want. And surely I'm not the only one who loves this cool place I invented, so I'll let rich people live there in their big mansions in a neighborhood of millionaires. I almost forgot - it must be in Spanish: LOS MILLONARIOS. Oh, I also like to hike in the woods, so I'll invent lots of hiking trails. And my house back in Pennsylania has a lot of Native American history, and one of those mountains kind of looks like a sleeping indian woman, so I'll call her LA INDIA DORMIDA, and I'll make hiking trails to explore the area. Oh I love EXPLORING! So here in El Valle there will be lots of horses, and hiking trails, and WATERFALLS, and a SECRET TUNNEL at the top of the mountain where there's a gold mine. No no no. We already have GOLDEN frogs, we can't have a gold mine too. Ok, be creative, be creative... how about a copper mine? That'll do. So at the top of the sleeping indian mountain, there's a secret tunnel from an old COPPER MINE. Cool!
Phew, all this inventing has worked up a hunger. I'll catch a ride back into town with a taxi driver who was so nice to me, Fran. We'll just call him FRAN because that's what they call my best friend's sister for some reason, and I always thought that name was funny. And I'm still 5. Back in town we're looking for food. I'm with my friends, let's call them JAMIE, because I have lots of friends named Jamie and James, and JASON, because it sounds good with Jamie. And speaking of names, I want my name to be something cool. What if my last name were WRONA, so when you say my name it comes out AIR CORONA. That's perfect! CORONA means CROWN in Spanish, and I've always liked pretending I'm a princess. ooooh ooooh, I can be the PRINCESS and I'm looking for my FROG PRINCE! Perfect!
Ok, so me, Jamie, and Jason are hungry. We had fun feeding the zoo animals kernels of corn, and those parrots who were saying "HOLA" to us, so cuuuute!
Hmmm, food. If I were 5, I would want meat on a stick. SHISH KA BOBS! Wow, only $1, because everything is affordable in my World. That was delicious, but now I want dessert. Oooooh, snowcones! Strawberry, grape, and all these other crazy flavors I've never heard of (I'm finally getting inventive). And condensed milk to make it really sweet and delicious.
Ok, all full. We better go home soon. The bus to get here was so fun, with all the twists and turns. I put my arms in the air and pretended we were on a roller coaster. We better walk to the bus area and see how to get back to the city. I always have good luck in my World. We got the LAST 3 seats of the LAST bus of the day going back to Panama City, where we live on a little hill with all our friends in a building that kind of looks like a bird cage. Hey, we can pretend we're birds, like in the zoo! Let's call our home the CAGE: LA JAULA.
P.S. If anybody reading this thinks that I actually made this all up, I didn't.
It's my life.
But what if you find yourself reflecting upon your own life, and it seems kind of, well -- made up?
As I was walking down a rainforest path, after having seen a geographic feature in real life that I had onced dreamt many years ago, I entertained the thought that I don't really exist. I bring this up to my friend (who I met the day before, and we settled in as if we'd known each other for a lifetime), and ponder if life could be so far off from the Matrix. I look down at my feet, and there are these beautiful cement bricks laid long ago that have been
Ok, I must pause here. It is 7:33am. I need to get these thoughts out before I head out for the day. With my roommate still sleeping, I put on my headphones and open iTunes. After a few shuffled songs of various artists, I crave Eddie Vedder's voice. I start with "Hunger Strike" from back in the day of Temple of the Dog. Then I'm hooked, that's EXACTLY whose voice I want to hear today. I set up random shuffle for all Pearl Jam songs. I have so many songs in many versions, from different live acts, that I haven't heard them all. The next random song is "Soon Forget" live from Seattle 11-6-2000. It is yukelele-based, and since I was really craving Eddie Vedder's voice, I almost fast-forwarded it to something more vocal. "No, I'll keep it playing," I thought, because I wanted to quickly open a Word Document (where I jot down my thoughts & ideas) before I forgot. I remember formulating a hair-brained plan to invite Pearl Jam to Panama for some kind of benefit concert, since I know Eddie is into causes. I type a few different lines before I find one I like: "Save the Frogs Benefit Concert -- PEARL JAM, Panama City, Panama." I change the font and size, save it, and continue writing this blog. The song I was going to fast-forward ends, and I hear Eddie's voice saying, "Now while we have a microphone and we have a platform for the last time in a long time we have to be home, I'm just going to say something that really didn't affect the show at all and mostly thanks to you for having such good energy, but we had a frustrating period in the last two days dealing with the city. And even though this is a show where all the proceeds, every dollar that you spent, is going to a number of different organizations in the city, a few nationally, I think it's almost $500,000 in two days, I'm guessing, but I think that's it. I don't know if it's post WTO-syndrome or something, but they're really paranoid in this city these days and really overcompensating with security and in fact, if every one of you left right now and only the security people were here, and no offense -- I'm sure some of you are nice people, but there would be 270 people in yellow shirts which is a bigger crowd than most small bands get. It's bordering on ridiculous. And I think we feel the need publicly to say that that's a cost usually $6,000 for security. Tonight, because the city was demanding this of us to have this show, they were. It's insulting, because of what we went through in Denmark, the last thing that we're even going to open ourselves up to is some kind of unsafe situation. And for them to go overboard on us, and you ask when will you get some respect in this town? When will music get some respect in this f*cking town? Let the kids go to teen dance shows, let them go to dance clubs, let them have an outlet. Look at this crowd tonight. They've been well-behaved. I've been to a number of other things where people are well-behaved. Give youth some responsibility to be able to prove themselves. They handled themselves much better than most people at SeaHawks games, believe me. So the cost of tonight, I don't know if it was just tonight or if it was over the two nights, but instead of $6,000 it was $25,000 for the extra people in yellow shirts, and that's $25,000 that's not going to go to one or a few of the groups that needed it. And I just feel like we needed to air that out so we can sleep well tonight and feel like we did a good job."
Okay, I'll start over:
"We are the arquitects of our own lives." Someone said that once, right?
But what if you find yourself reflecting upon your own life, and it seems kind of, well -- made up?
As I was walking down a rainforest path, after having seen a geographic feature in real life that I had onced dreamt many years ago, I entertained the thought that I don't really exist. I bring this up to my friend (who I met the day before, and we settled in as if we'd known each other for a lifetime), and ponder if life could be so far off from the Matrix. I look down at my feet, and there are these beautiful cement bricks laid long ago that have been left to the elements, to shift and get overgrown to their cement hearts' desire. They are beautiful, and magical, and exactly what I would expect to see if I were in Narnia, or if I were designing the set of my Life.
Life does seem just a bit juvenile, with a creative design that could only be bridled by the constraints of the mind of, let's say...a 5-year-old Me.
If 5-year-old Me were to invent my surroundings, what would they look like? Well, I'm 5. So I like school buses. But not just plain school buses, but super-decked-out school buses painted with whimsical designs, and feather boas hanging from the windshield, and stickers everywhere. Ooooooh, and lights. YES! Let's put some strings of lights on the buses. And every morning going to work, let's pass through PARADISE. But wait, let's make it exotic, so we'll speak Spanish, and we'll call it PARAISO. Oh yeah, that's better.
Ok, so I'm still 5, and I have to work. So what would I like to do? ooh ooh, FROGS! Yes, I love frogs! Okay, I'm going to work with frogs. But wait, this is my Life, let's make it good. I want to work with extinct frogs. Wait, EXTINCT frogs?!?!? Yes, Erica, extinct in the wild. Ok, that WOULD be cool, to try to save the little froggies who are being killed off by this big bad EVIL fungus. Where should these frog tanks be placed? Hmmm, I know! A ZOO!! Yes, ok, a zoo. But I'm 5, so I get bored, so let's make another frog project in another zoo. This time in a magical land of volcanoes. Perhaps a cloudforest? How about a cloudforest valley that was created by volcanoes eons ago? That sounds cool. Let's call it the VALLEY, because I'm 5 and that's the best I can think of. But let's make it Spanish so it sounds more exotic: EL VALLE. Sweet. But I want to make it MY valley, so since I live in Ancon, I'll call it something similar: EL VALLE DE ANTON. Just so my friends' parents don't get lost when they come over to drop off my friends. And over in El Valle, we're going to save more magical extinct frogs. Let's call them Panamanian GOLDEN frogs. And from there, I better check out my surroundings. I think I'll invent some beautiful lush green MOUNTAINS that come soaring out of the ground like the dormant volcanoes they are. I did have a dream with some cool mountains in it, let me invent those. And I'll make the climate cooler, so it'll be the perfect temperature and it will rain a little. What 5-year-old doesn't love to play in the RAIN?
Ok, my World is soooooo cool, I wonder what else we can do? I love climbing trees. Let's make special trees. How? Hmmm, I know! Tree trunks are usually round, so I wanna make my trees different. I know I know! A different shape...how about square? Yes, SQUARE trees. And I like hot tubs, but we're in nature, so I'll invent natural hot SPRINGS. ooh ooh, I almost forgot my favorite activity -- horseback riding! I'll put lots of pretty HORSES here so I can go HORSEBACK RIDING whenever I want. And surely I'm not the only one who loves this cool place I invented, so I'll let rich people live there in their big mansions in a neighborhood of millionaires. I almost forgot - it must be in Spanish: LOS MILLONARIOS. Oh, I also like to hike in the woods, so I'll invent lots of hiking trails. And my house back in Pennsylania has a lot of Native American history, and one of those mountains kind of looks like a sleeping indian woman, so I'll call her LA INDIA DORMIDA, and I'll make hiking trails to explore the area. Oh I love EXPLORING! So here in El Valle there will be lots of horses, and hiking trails, and WATERFALLS, and a SECRET TUNNEL at the top of the mountain where there's a gold mine. No no no. We already have GOLDEN frogs, we can't have a gold mine too. Ok, be creative, be creative... how about a copper mine? That'll do. So at the top of the sleeping indian mountain, there's a secret tunnel from an old COPPER MINE. Cool!
Phew, all this inventing has worked up a hunger. I'll catch a ride back into town with a taxi driver who was so nice to me, Fran. We'll just call him FRAN because that's what they call my best friend's sister for some reason, and I always thought that name was funny. And I'm still 5. Back in town we're looking for food. I'm with my friends, let's call them JAMIE, because I have lots of friends named Jamie and James, and JASON, because it sounds good with Jamie. And speaking of names, I want my name to be something cool. What if my last name were WRONA, so when you say my name it comes out AIR CORONA. That's perfect! CORONA means CROWN in Spanish, and I've always liked pretending I'm a princess. ooooh ooooh, I can be the PRINCESS and I'm looking for my FROG PRINCE! Perfect!
Ok, so me, Jamie, and Jason are hungry. We had fun feeding the zoo animals kernels of corn, and those parrots who were saying "HOLA" to us, so cuuuute!
Hmmm, food. If I were 5, I would want meat on a stick. SHISH KA BOBS! Wow, only $1, because everything is affordable in my World. That was delicious, but now I want dessert. Oooooh, snowcones! Strawberry, grape, and all these other crazy flavors I've never heard of (I'm finally getting inventive). And condensed milk to make it really sweet and delicious.
Ok, all full. We better go home soon. The bus to get here was so fun, with all the twists and turns. I put my arms in the air and pretended we were on a roller coaster. We better walk to the bus area and see how to get back to the city. I always have good luck in my World. We got the LAST 3 seats of the LAST bus of the day going back to Panama City, where we live on a little hill with all our friends in a building that kind of looks like a bird cage. Hey, we can pretend we're birds, like in the zoo! Let's call our home the CAGE: LA JAULA.
P.S. If anybody reading this thinks that I actually made this all up, I didn't.
It's my life.
18 March, 2012
Coincidences
What is it about the overlap of events that constitutes them being called "coincidences"? Is it the quality and completeness of individual events leading to similar events or details, that warrants them being "coincidences"? Or is it the frequency in which we register events or details, that makes us notice them several times, which in turn upgrades seemingly unimportant events to the status of "coincidence"? In a recent email to my sister, I wrote:
"There have been weird coincidences happening lately, and I know coincidences just happen and maybe it's probability that makes you notice certain things a certain number of times, and disregard the non-important events as non-coincidences."
So how can I explain the spike of coincidences happening lately? The frequency of events has been occurring at an alarming rate.
Examples will not do justice to the strength of the feelings behind the circumstances, yet merely serve to remind me of all this at a later time.
1. I went to the beach, without mentioning it to anyone back home. When I returned, I received an email from my sister saying she dreamt we were at a beach, and described the location, which was exactly laid out in her dream, the way I was there in reality. (Hence leading to the email response about coincidences.)
2. I was in the middle of the jungle, reflecting upon my life, and I began to think about horse training. And I mean, REALLY delve into it, as in an epiphany. Giddy with delight at having tapped into some kind of gut feeling, we returned to the cabin where I was invited to watch a documentary about caves, and the trailer was about... you guessed it! Horse training. And not only that, but the song was off Pearl Jam's newer album that I've been needing to get, and there it was - my favorite song sung by Eddie Vedder. (So if someone would like to help me out by obtaining both this Sundance film, and Pearl Jam's Backspacer album, I'd be happy to accept them.)
3. I met myself. My 50-something-year-old self. Although I've met many people who remind me of me, or have had somewhat similar experiences, I don't think I've ever met mySELF. And there I was. After two lunch dates, I just sat back and smiled, and let the coincidences roll in. It was an overload, and we kept getting goosebumps at the same time as we talked about everything under the sun, and BOOM -- coincidence, BOOM -- coincidence. It got to the point where it became easier to point out events that were NOT coincidences or things we had in common.
4. Riding in a bus to work one day, I was watching the scenery go by. My friend was in another seat across the aisle. I witnessed a homeless man sitting under a tree, coddling something that looked like a blanket. As the bus got closer, I saw it was a cat, and the man was hugging and kissing this cat, and it was so beautiful and touching, that I pointed it out to my friend, and went on about the human-animal bond. She looked at me funny, and now I'm getting used to these looks from everyone around me, because she was in disbelief about the timing of my comment. She pulled out the magazine she was reading and pointed to the article entitled "Human-Animal Bonds" in the Association of Zoos and Aquariums magazine.
5. I moved into my new apartment the day before yesterday. I walked in and introduced myself to my new roommates. The one who I'll share a room with, shares her name with the 50-year-old me in Item #3 above. After some chatting, I find out her boyfriend is in the Peace Corps. None of this may seem like a coincidence, but I'm not living with Peace Corps volunteers, but rather STRI fellows and interns and doctoral candidates.
The list goes on and on. Mostly events occurring in the last one to two weeks.
March 19, 2012: More to report.
6. Sitting in my new digs, writing this blog, I hear a knock on the door. I open it, and there stand two Colombians looking for my Colombian roommate. I recognize the one standing on the right, and we point fingers at each other and both say, "I know you." Those initial moments are always entertaining, when the human brain searches through its repertoire of people and events, connecting puzzle pieces, figuring out WHAT WHERE WHEN and HOW you know the WHO. Then I recall being briefly introduced to him last week at a STRI talk, before being whisked away to Casco Viejo where my friend is house-sitting. [I'll add to this event, that the house-sitting is for a STRI post-doc and his wife, the house is located by a Peace Corps family owned hotel, where I met my 50-year-old Self, and by her house, which is why she was in Panama to begin with. Also, the house-sitting friend and I both moved to our respective new digs within 1 day of each other, bringing us from opposite ends of the bus lines 2 hours away distance, to now within walking distance, or a 5 minute taxi ride.]
7. New neighbor's boyfriend's name: male version of same name of my new roommate, my 50-year-old Self, AND my Best Friend from Peace Corps, who has already booked his plane ticket to come visit me in May. Oh yeah, AND my OLD roommate from Long Beach, who came down with her husband last year to visit me in Peru.
8. Stream-of-consciousness conversation on bus to El Valle. [Oh yeah -- "pre-coincidence" coincidence -- our other frog project is located in El Valle, and I've been meaning to get out there, but haven't had the opportunity. So when my new neighbor, over a celebratory Irish Car Bomb for St. Patrick's Day, mentions that he had been planning to go to El Valle the next day, I was game.] So on the 2-hour bus ride to El Valle, we chatted away to my heart's content, and he asks me, "Why do people paint the bottoms of trees white?" I let out an auditory scream that may have startled the Panamanian passengers. I have been wondering that and asking random people that SAME question for over the past year, since I was working with trees in reforesting Peru, I became more aware of trees and hence, more aware of this strange world-wide behavior of painting tree trunks white. Was it so cars see them? Insect control? Purely aesthetic? Ok, we'll Google that later (and we did). And I was right.
Why do people paint trees white?
9. The bus was navigating the curvy roads as we left the coast and entered an undulating terrain that caused me to throw my hands in the air and say, "Rollercoaster!" I made mention of yesterday's near fender-bender in the taxi, and I'm so used to crazy South & Central American driving that not even one milligram of adrenaline was released. I said that was a problem, that not many events release the adrenaline these days. (Except for the loofah that fell on me during my first shower in the apartment, and with my eyes closed my initial reaction was that I was back in the village and it was some huge spider or snake.) But I digress (as I always do)...
Looking out the bus window, I see a hawk flying in all its glory, meandering its way above the nooks and crannies of the dormant volcano we were traveling across. I tell my new neighbor, "I've never had the desire to paraglide or hangglide, but my dad sent me this link about para-hawking in Nepal. You are tamdem with a hawk trainer, and you are there in the air watching a hawk fly next to you, rotating its directional feathers." I thought that might be a good activity to get some adrenaline out of me. My neighbor pointed out the improbability of going to Nepal, and I said, "Actually...you'd be surprised at how many of my friends have mentioned Tibet/Nepal lately." Like my English-teacher friend in Peru, and my 50-year-old Self who is formulating a business that involves a connection in Nepal. And that was the end of that conversation. Almost not worth mentioning in the coincidences list. And then there's always that final clincher that is the tipping point. Back home several hours later, I was once again researching my next career move, and Googled "equine therapy" just to see where that leads. First entry: "Animal Therapy for Kids - The KAT Centre Brings Dogs to Schools and Orphanages in Nepal." Hmmmm...
10. Several years ago, I had a dream. I mean, I've had millions of dreams in my life. But this one was so vivid that it has remained with me. I DREW it for god's sake, like in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." I was convinced that I would find those pointy cloud forest mountains on the slopes of Peru. Nope, nada. Yesterday we were running out of time after seeing the Panamanian Golden Frog and other animals at the zoo, so we were deciding between the square trees or the thermal baths, located on opposite sides of town. We opted for the square trees. The taxi dropped us off at a Hacienda and pointed us towards the trail that leads to the loop to see the square trees. Stepping out of the taxi into the cool after-rain, I see my mountains. I stop. Wait, can it be? Wait, I was in a hotel, looking out the window, and there were those haunting mountains. I'm in the right place, not the right view though. Wait, can it be? No. That was just a dream.
11. Walking down the path to the square trees, I have already shared this weird experience with my two friends since I stopped in the middle of our speedy tour of El Valle to look at the mountains, I had to tell them what was happening and why I looked noticeably jolted. So, in good form, my neighbor says we better find that view that I was searching for, and we head up the trail towards the trees. We pass a little cabina on the way back that almost frames the mountain like a window, and he says maybe it was a window in my dream, but in reality it's this little wooden viewing area. Although I tell him it was definitely a hotel window that reveals the view of these mystical mountains, we take a picture for good measure. He hands me my camera and says he took several. I thank him for that, since my sister is a photographer and I know you have to take lots of photos to get a good one. I say, "Imagine you were somewhere you'll never be again, like the Eiffel Tower, and your friend takes just one photo, and when you get back to the states, and you are going through your photos, it didn't turn out well, you're stuck with that bad photo."
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DO I EVEN NEED TO CONTINUE WRITING WITH WHAT WAS HIS RESPONSE?
"There have been weird coincidences happening lately, and I know coincidences just happen and maybe it's probability that makes you notice certain things a certain number of times, and disregard the non-important events as non-coincidences."
So how can I explain the spike of coincidences happening lately? The frequency of events has been occurring at an alarming rate.
Examples will not do justice to the strength of the feelings behind the circumstances, yet merely serve to remind me of all this at a later time.
1. I went to the beach, without mentioning it to anyone back home. When I returned, I received an email from my sister saying she dreamt we were at a beach, and described the location, which was exactly laid out in her dream, the way I was there in reality. (Hence leading to the email response about coincidences.)
3. I met myself. My 50-something-year-old self. Although I've met many people who remind me of me, or have had somewhat similar experiences, I don't think I've ever met mySELF. And there I was. After two lunch dates, I just sat back and smiled, and let the coincidences roll in. It was an overload, and we kept getting goosebumps at the same time as we talked about everything under the sun, and BOOM -- coincidence, BOOM -- coincidence. It got to the point where it became easier to point out events that were NOT coincidences or things we had in common.
4. Riding in a bus to work one day, I was watching the scenery go by. My friend was in another seat across the aisle. I witnessed a homeless man sitting under a tree, coddling something that looked like a blanket. As the bus got closer, I saw it was a cat, and the man was hugging and kissing this cat, and it was so beautiful and touching, that I pointed it out to my friend, and went on about the human-animal bond. She looked at me funny, and now I'm getting used to these looks from everyone around me, because she was in disbelief about the timing of my comment. She pulled out the magazine she was reading and pointed to the article entitled "Human-Animal Bonds" in the Association of Zoos and Aquariums magazine.
5. I moved into my new apartment the day before yesterday. I walked in and introduced myself to my new roommates. The one who I'll share a room with, shares her name with the 50-year-old me in Item #3 above. After some chatting, I find out her boyfriend is in the Peace Corps. None of this may seem like a coincidence, but I'm not living with Peace Corps volunteers, but rather STRI fellows and interns and doctoral candidates.
The list goes on and on. Mostly events occurring in the last one to two weeks.
March 19, 2012: More to report.
6. Sitting in my new digs, writing this blog, I hear a knock on the door. I open it, and there stand two Colombians looking for my Colombian roommate. I recognize the one standing on the right, and we point fingers at each other and both say, "I know you." Those initial moments are always entertaining, when the human brain searches through its repertoire of people and events, connecting puzzle pieces, figuring out WHAT WHERE WHEN and HOW you know the WHO. Then I recall being briefly introduced to him last week at a STRI talk, before being whisked away to Casco Viejo where my friend is house-sitting. [I'll add to this event, that the house-sitting is for a STRI post-doc and his wife, the house is located by a Peace Corps family owned hotel, where I met my 50-year-old Self, and by her house, which is why she was in Panama to begin with. Also, the house-sitting friend and I both moved to our respective new digs within 1 day of each other, bringing us from opposite ends of the bus lines 2 hours away distance, to now within walking distance, or a 5 minute taxi ride.]
7. New neighbor's boyfriend's name: male version of same name of my new roommate, my 50-year-old Self, AND my Best Friend from Peace Corps, who has already booked his plane ticket to come visit me in May. Oh yeah, AND my OLD roommate from Long Beach, who came down with her husband last year to visit me in Peru.
8. Stream-of-consciousness conversation on bus to El Valle. [Oh yeah -- "pre-coincidence" coincidence -- our other frog project is located in El Valle, and I've been meaning to get out there, but haven't had the opportunity. So when my new neighbor, over a celebratory Irish Car Bomb for St. Patrick's Day, mentions that he had been planning to go to El Valle the next day, I was game.] So on the 2-hour bus ride to El Valle, we chatted away to my heart's content, and he asks me, "Why do people paint the bottoms of trees white?" I let out an auditory scream that may have startled the Panamanian passengers. I have been wondering that and asking random people that SAME question for over the past year, since I was working with trees in reforesting Peru, I became more aware of trees and hence, more aware of this strange world-wide behavior of painting tree trunks white. Was it so cars see them? Insect control? Purely aesthetic? Ok, we'll Google that later (and we did). And I was right.Why do people paint trees white?
9. The bus was navigating the curvy roads as we left the coast and entered an undulating terrain that caused me to throw my hands in the air and say, "Rollercoaster!" I made mention of yesterday's near fender-bender in the taxi, and I'm so used to crazy South & Central American driving that not even one milligram of adrenaline was released. I said that was a problem, that not many events release the adrenaline these days. (Except for the loofah that fell on me during my first shower in the apartment, and with my eyes closed my initial reaction was that I was back in the village and it was some huge spider or snake.) But I digress (as I always do)...
Looking out the bus window, I see a hawk flying in all its glory, meandering its way above the nooks and crannies of the dormant volcano we were traveling across. I tell my new neighbor, "I've never had the desire to paraglide or hangglide, but my dad sent me this link about para-hawking in Nepal. You are tamdem with a hawk trainer, and you are there in the air watching a hawk fly next to you, rotating its directional feathers." I thought that might be a good activity to get some adrenaline out of me. My neighbor pointed out the improbability of going to Nepal, and I said, "Actually...you'd be surprised at how many of my friends have mentioned Tibet/Nepal lately." Like my English-teacher friend in Peru, and my 50-year-old Self who is formulating a business that involves a connection in Nepal. And that was the end of that conversation. Almost not worth mentioning in the coincidences list. And then there's always that final clincher that is the tipping point. Back home several hours later, I was once again researching my next career move, and Googled "equine therapy" just to see where that leads. First entry: "Animal Therapy for Kids - The KAT Centre Brings Dogs to Schools and Orphanages in Nepal." Hmmmm...
10. Several years ago, I had a dream. I mean, I've had millions of dreams in my life. But this one was so vivid that it has remained with me. I DREW it for god's sake, like in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." I was convinced that I would find those pointy cloud forest mountains on the slopes of Peru. Nope, nada. Yesterday we were running out of time after seeing the Panamanian Golden Frog and other animals at the zoo, so we were deciding between the square trees or the thermal baths, located on opposite sides of town. We opted for the square trees. The taxi dropped us off at a Hacienda and pointed us towards the trail that leads to the loop to see the square trees. Stepping out of the taxi into the cool after-rain, I see my mountains. I stop. Wait, can it be? Wait, I was in a hotel, looking out the window, and there were those haunting mountains. I'm in the right place, not the right view though. Wait, can it be? No. That was just a dream.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DO I EVEN NEED TO CONTINUE WRITING WITH WHAT WAS HIS RESPONSE?
 |
| Jake in Paris. I did not KNOW he had been to France, until I made up some cliche place where you'd want a good, once-in-a-lifetime photo. Okay, are we getting it yet? And the list of coincidences goes on and on and on... |
09 March, 2012
Have you thanked your legs today?
Where
did your legs take you today? You
know, some people don’t have legs. I
always think about that, and am grateful.
So I try to use them. And when
I’m tired, or my quads are burning, and I'm thinking, “Why am I doing this to
myself?” The answer is, “Because I can.”
Today
my legs took me wading through the crystalline streams of the Panamanian
rainforest, searching for endangered frogs that are succumbing to the chytrid
fungus. In heavy rubber boots, I
navigated through the forest streams, trying with each step to determine the
profundity of my next foot placement, to avoid a flood of water into my boot
and having to suffer through a wet sock and pruny foot for the next five hours. There were many close calls, but luckily I
gauged well, even in the pitch darkness when we waited until the cover of
darkness to conduct our night search of the rare amphibians.
My legs have taken me to the tops of glaciers, to volcanoes over 20,000 feet high, and through 9 days of trekking through the Huayhuash circuit of the Andes mountains. My legs have carried me across 26.2 miles of sand and gravel for my first marathon, and have kept me in control of innumerable horses across varied terrain. My legs have taken me on hundreds, if not thousands, of miles of hiking trails -- muddy, wet, dry, dusty, slippery, sandy, leafy, dirty, hard concrete, soft earth, vines, roots, insects, ants, watch out for snakes, I shouldn't be wearing flip-flops.
Careful in the dark there, as you scramble over treacherous morrains, and now, put on the crampons, we're climbing the icy glacier. Rubber boots, flip-flops, running shoes, hiking boots, crampons, Crocs, high heels, flats, Havianas. Gaiters for the ash and yellow sulfuric powder as we sink into the side of the volcano. Blisters, black toenails, plantar fasciitis, shin-splints, IT band syndrome -- what we put our bodies through!
Okay, crossing the river now. How many rivers, how many highlands over the ichu grass, in search of the elusive vicuña, Vicugna vicugna? How many rivers, how many vines to trip over, spider webs to swat from the face, in search of the elusive Atelopus limosus frog?
I've got many rivers to cross/But I can't seem to find my way over/Wandering I am lost/As I travel along the white cliffs of Dover.
15 November, 2011
Breaking the BRO-CODE
I keep catching myself forgetting to breathe. Oops! Breathe, breathe.
30 days left to equal 1,185 days in Peru. Some days good, some days bad. The first 730 days were pretty tranquil, those days spent in a rural village, taken care of by a lovely Peruvian family. The next year -- the BIG MOVE to the BIG CITY, when in fact it has a small town gossip to it, and everyone runs in the same circles. This is where the real culture clash comes in. Funny I didn't experience it until I moved to civilization, something closer to what we would recognize as "home." You know, hot showers, people who brush their teeth and know how to use their cell phones and the internet. A larger dating population than choosing between a farmer and a donkey driver. And so I arrived, and began to see the real machismo society I'd heard about, but never fully grasped its extent.
If anyone thinks they understand the "bro-code"... or thinks they have experienced it... you've got nothin' on Peru. You can't crack that code between bros who cover up for their cheating and lying friends no matter if you're married, moved across the world to be with a guy, laid down ground rules about fidelity, nada.
In this culture, at least in this part of the country, it is customary and accepted to cheat on your girlfriend or wife. And the boys lie for each other, cover up, play dumb. And the girls are called gossips, then ostracized, and banned from certain establishments where the bros frequent, if they try to tell their female friends to keep their eyes open, that I've heard some rumors, watch out.
I simply do what I would want others to do for me, if I were the clueless girl who's man is cheating on her. So when an acquaintance asked me if I believed her man was faithful to her, and I knew otherwise... I can not tell a lie. I tried to dodge any real details, but saw the suffering and doubt etched on her face, and told her I'd tell her next month, when I was gone, and others involved wouldn't have repercussions. I suppose it was enough to cast doubt on her already doubting mind, and she began an in-depth investigation to anyone and everyone, and enough stories coincided to give her the truth, and she left to her home country within 3 days.
And what becomes of the cheating man who loses yet another trusting girlfriend due to infidelity? Well, apparently in this machismo culture, you shift the blame to a scapegoat, and let's call her a gossip to boot, and not allow her to enter the establishment where her boyfriend works, because of course this guy is her boyfriend's boss (which makes a real sticky situation), and the guy has somehow become the victim in all of this, instead of a lying cheater. After all, in this culture, let's recall that men are expected to cheat. Whereas it's a huge taboo to talk about other people's private lives. I made the cultural faux pas, not the other way around. And I've lost a lot of friends in the process, even jeopardizing my own relationship with my boyfriend. He's a guy, so he's a part of the bro-code. And he can't wrap his head around my actions.
So what do you do when you realize that an entire culture clashes against your personal beliefs and morals? Do you stand by and watch a woman suffer, and accept it's part of the land where you are visiting? What if the woman is another outsider like yourself, and hasn't yet realized what are the cultural norms? What if you are dating someone born and raised in the culture? Do you accuse without reasonable evidence, and jump on every small red flag that could indicate infidelity? Or do you convince yourself that you found the one, I mean the ONE man in this environment that doesn't adhere to those cultural norms? How would that be possible? I would consider that statistically improbable. How could I be so lucky? And are there other women out there, who would put themselves on the line for me if perhaps I weren't so lucky as I think I am? Would anyone else out there be willing to break the powerful BRO-CODE, and stand up against an entire ingrained societal norm?
30 days left to equal 1,185 days in Peru. Some days good, some days bad. The first 730 days were pretty tranquil, those days spent in a rural village, taken care of by a lovely Peruvian family. The next year -- the BIG MOVE to the BIG CITY, when in fact it has a small town gossip to it, and everyone runs in the same circles. This is where the real culture clash comes in. Funny I didn't experience it until I moved to civilization, something closer to what we would recognize as "home." You know, hot showers, people who brush their teeth and know how to use their cell phones and the internet. A larger dating population than choosing between a farmer and a donkey driver. And so I arrived, and began to see the real machismo society I'd heard about, but never fully grasped its extent.
If anyone thinks they understand the "bro-code"... or thinks they have experienced it... you've got nothin' on Peru. You can't crack that code between bros who cover up for their cheating and lying friends no matter if you're married, moved across the world to be with a guy, laid down ground rules about fidelity, nada.
In this culture, at least in this part of the country, it is customary and accepted to cheat on your girlfriend or wife. And the boys lie for each other, cover up, play dumb. And the girls are called gossips, then ostracized, and banned from certain establishments where the bros frequent, if they try to tell their female friends to keep their eyes open, that I've heard some rumors, watch out.
I simply do what I would want others to do for me, if I were the clueless girl who's man is cheating on her. So when an acquaintance asked me if I believed her man was faithful to her, and I knew otherwise... I can not tell a lie. I tried to dodge any real details, but saw the suffering and doubt etched on her face, and told her I'd tell her next month, when I was gone, and others involved wouldn't have repercussions. I suppose it was enough to cast doubt on her already doubting mind, and she began an in-depth investigation to anyone and everyone, and enough stories coincided to give her the truth, and she left to her home country within 3 days.
And what becomes of the cheating man who loses yet another trusting girlfriend due to infidelity? Well, apparently in this machismo culture, you shift the blame to a scapegoat, and let's call her a gossip to boot, and not allow her to enter the establishment where her boyfriend works, because of course this guy is her boyfriend's boss (which makes a real sticky situation), and the guy has somehow become the victim in all of this, instead of a lying cheater. After all, in this culture, let's recall that men are expected to cheat. Whereas it's a huge taboo to talk about other people's private lives. I made the cultural faux pas, not the other way around. And I've lost a lot of friends in the process, even jeopardizing my own relationship with my boyfriend. He's a guy, so he's a part of the bro-code. And he can't wrap his head around my actions.
So what do you do when you realize that an entire culture clashes against your personal beliefs and morals? Do you stand by and watch a woman suffer, and accept it's part of the land where you are visiting? What if the woman is another outsider like yourself, and hasn't yet realized what are the cultural norms? What if you are dating someone born and raised in the culture? Do you accuse without reasonable evidence, and jump on every small red flag that could indicate infidelity? Or do you convince yourself that you found the one, I mean the ONE man in this environment that doesn't adhere to those cultural norms? How would that be possible? I would consider that statistically improbable. How could I be so lucky? And are there other women out there, who would put themselves on the line for me if perhaps I weren't so lucky as I think I am? Would anyone else out there be willing to break the powerful BRO-CODE, and stand up against an entire ingrained societal norm?
13 November, 2011
Caught in the Culture Clash
Not that I consider myself religious, nor self-righteous, nor radical...only slightly moral.
Not that anyone reads my blog, since nothing has warranted writing an entry since May.
But now I find myself caught in a Culture Clash. I spoke up when no one else would. And now I'm the scapegoat for actions that people won't take responsibility for. North versus South. Machismo versus non-machismo. I wouldn't even consider myself a feminist, just a woman who believes everyone is entitled to the truth.
Not that anyone reads my blog, since nothing has warranted writing an entry since May.
But now I find myself caught in a Culture Clash. I spoke up when no one else would. And now I'm the scapegoat for actions that people won't take responsibility for. North versus South. Machismo versus non-machismo. I wouldn't even consider myself a feminist, just a woman who believes everyone is entitled to the truth.
11 May, 2011
Making Connections
My first phone call of the day came a few minutes before 7am. I didn't recognize the number, but picked up anyway, since the person on the other end was using their phone credit to call, they must want to get through. It was the guide who accompanied my friends on the beautiful Huayhuash circuit last month. We got cut off twice as his credit kept running out, and I couldn't get through by dialing his number. Finally we were able to set up a meeting time for half an hour later, to talk about sending him more clients. He has been a long-time friend of Peace Corps volunteers, since the time a PCV was living in his town several years ago. He had lost contact with PCV's until a couple months ago, when my reforestation project was presented in his town, and he tracked me down.
After a very nice conversation in which I promised I'd send any potential clients his way, I returned to my house to make breakfast. As an apple pancake was turning golden-brown, my phone rang again. Another unfamiliar number. I answered reluctantly, and was very happy I did. It was another guide, but this one owns the only horseback riding agency in Huaraz. I had contacted him about supporting his agency by making it more eco-friendly, and helping out with some English translations, in exchange for some horseback riding. He was excited about my proposal, and we set up a time to meet in half a hour. Over a bubbilicious Inca Cola, we talked for over an hour about all the possibilities we could work on together. I was excited about learning how to horseshoe. He was excited about my reforestation project. We discussed implementing tree-planting in one of the communities at the destination of one of his trail rides. The client could ride up to the top of a look-out, take a break, eat lunch, and plant a tree. I stressed the importance of planting native tree species, as there is already enough eucalyptus, and the client should be contributing to an environmental cause in order to ffel thye are making a difference, which they certainly would be. At 3000' meters, quenual trees would grow well, as they do in high altitudes. Being an important native tree species, and in danger of extinction, it would be a great draw for clients looking to offset their carbon footprint, or to have a memorable experience during their visit to Peru. They could come back and see their tree amidst the forest!
We discussed our timeline and I told him I would be leaving in December. When I mentioned I was considering returning to Peru one day, he made me promise to keep in touch so that we could start an NGO together. We began talking about homestays and cultural tourism, in which a client could spend a night with a family, and learn about the traditional lifestyle. With the tourist season already upon us, we have a lot of big plans and ideas...we'll see where the road takes us!
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| Reaching the top during our full-day ride. |
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| Like many Peruvian things, I am much taller. |
05 May, 2011
Safety in the Mountains
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| Hanging out at 36 stories high (120 meters or 393 feet) |
One of the best parts about living in the Cordillera Blanca of Peru is the accessibility of the mountains. There are over 50 peaks of 5,700 meters (18,700 ft) or higher, including more than 30 peaks over 6,000 meters (19,685 ft). Besides mountaineering, a multitude of other activities can be enjoyed here such as rock-climbing, ice-climbing, horseback riding, hikes, multi-day trekking, camping, bridge-jumping, birding, and glacial lake jumping (only popular amongst the Peace Corps crowd).
Upon arrival, the unsavvy tourist may be deceived into thinking they can summit a 6,000 meter peak, or scale a 30 meter ice wall, and someone will pop out of nowhere to save them if something should go awry. What most visitors don't think about is the lack of human resources, and therefore lack of rescue capabilities, available in this 340,000 hectare (1,312 square miles) Huascaran National Park.
Last year I embarked on climbing the "beginner's peak" of Nevado Pisco with a couple of friends and a couple of (maybe) guides. After hiking to the base camp and having a quick dinner, we went to sleep only to awake at 1am to begin the ascent to the summit. With our headlamps and gear, we made our way across the incredibly long and torturous morraine, then strapped on our crampons at the glacier's edge and tied into each other with 60 meter ropes. A few hours later as the sun was rising, we reached the summit and were able to see the white beauty surrounding us as we stood on top of an ancient glacier.
Then we descended. The terrain was quite different in the daylight. Instead of seeing the 2 foot radius of light from my headlamp, I saw huge expanses of snow and ice, icicles hanging into caves, and small cracks leading into deep crevasses that made my heart race. As the sun rose higher, shifting and cracking snow melting noises and deep guttural sounds of the glaciar revealed a hidden underground lair that I didn't wish to acquantaince. I was well aware that the Cordillera Blanca is the tallest tropical mountain range in the world, meaning it is subject to the slightest changes in climate. Estimates say they will all be gone in 40-50 years time.
With my feet finally planted on solid ground, I vowed to never again act like an uninformed tourist, and would at the very least learn the basics of mountaineering. Six months later I happened upon a high mountain rescue course put on by the mountain guide association of Peru, the Casa de Guias. Once again weighed down with heavy gear, I arrived on day one with my friend, us being 2 out of the 4 women signed up for this course of 130 mountain guides, guides-in-training, and invitees. For the next 5 days, we were treated with the utmost respect, and our instructor had unlimited patience as we went over the knots and rescue systems over and over again in different situations. I learned rescue systems, self-rescue, rappel systems, ice systems, snow systems, emergency cases, first aid, and we even had time for some rock-climbing and I rappeled down two pitches of 60 meters each.
On the last day we received closing words and certificates, and everyone went their separate ways for long, hot showers. While we were enjoying a celebratory dinner and an overdue night's sleep, one of my Park colleagues who was also one of the course instructors, had to postpone his much-deserved rest for an emergency call about a group of university students who had entered the park unauthorized. Two of the girls were separated from the group and couldn't be located in the dark. Coming just a month after the disappearance of two lost hikers in the Colca Canyon of Arequipa, with one still missing, the backcountry was up 4-0. Using years of guiding and rescue experience, my colleague located the two girls walking along a river bank at 1am, after hours of search-and-rescue. One had fallen in and was suffering from hypothermia, while the other was wet and cold from the rain; both were scared and disoriented.
While I may not be going out and rescuing someone anytime soon, I can at least rescue myself, preventing a midnight search-and-rescue in my honor and leaving the mountains in their quiet slendor.
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| View from our campsite |
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| Practicing knots |
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| Park Rescue Coordinator & Man of the Hour who found the 2 missing girls, after teaching the 5-day Mountain Rescue Course |
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| Me with Director of Huascaran National Park and Tourism Specialist |
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| Our patient guide Miguel |
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| All my gear |
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| First Aid and case studies portion of the rescue course |
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| Me with one of the parkguards I used to work with in Cashapampa |
03 April, 2011
07 December, 2010
My $400 Fruitcake
Panetón – The Peruvian version of the much-dreaded fruitcake. Except that in Peru, the Panetón is THE quintessential holiday treat, gifted to every man, woman, and child and gladly accepted and devoured. Panetóns come in a mind-boggling selection of brands, including every supermarket and drugstore which have their own store-name version. “Yes please, I’d like my prescription Zoloft and…Why not? Throw in a Panetón.”
My particular Panetón has a story of its own. Let me begin this bready discourse from the beginning…
Last September I decided to stay a third year as a Peace Corps Environmental volunteer in Peru. As a perk (and surely necessary break) to staying on another year, PC pays for a flight home and allows a month leave of absence. Many volunteers also use this time to travel around South America, as I decided to do. I pinpointed Buenos Aires as a no-brainer since I’ve only heard amazing things about it and will not have another opportunity to go anytime soon. So I booked a flight and drooled over my guidebook at all the amazing stuff I was going to do. In October, I was g-chatting with one of my best PC friends and found out we were both going to be there the exact same week! As if it couldn’t get any better, I facebooked another friend who lives in Buenos Aires, and was also put in contact with a friend of my boyfriend’s who lives down there and said he’d be happy to show me around. For my week in Buenos Aires, I already had tour guides and a full schedule.
As the holiday season came into full force, the Panetón sales sprang up in every corner. For a visit to the host family I had lived with for 2 years, I selected a Panetón with a pretty red box. Panetón packaging varies from plastic bags to foil bags, to boxes, to full-out commemorative tins. But as I was learning from my Peruvian boyfriend, the most sought after Panetóns are those with the best tv commercials, as well as the prestigious classic brands, information only a native would know. He tried to convince me to buy a certain brand, only S/.6 more than the one I had selected, but what did I know? I could play the uninformed card. And anyway, my host family would be thrilled with whatever I gave them. They don’t have tv to see which brands have the best commercials this year. Apparently affected by the holiday spirit, my boyfriend was converted into his childhood self as he begged me to buy him the afore-mentioned Panetón. I looked at him and said no, he could buy it himself. I was a week away from Argentina and couldn’t be spending on extraneous expenses.
Later that week I began intense planning for my trip. Buy bus ticket to Lima: check. Reserve hostel in Buenos Aires: check. Decide what to bring for the summer weather of Argentina and then the winter of the states: check. Find passport: check.
Saturday: T-3 days until departure. I am spending the day in my new apartment - cleaning, unpacking, organizing, re-organizing, and preliminary trip packing. My boyfriend calls me from work to say he has gotten permission to leave work early that day to go to our favorite rock-climbing place, and if I can go. I have a lot to do in the next 2.5 days, so I decline. He comes by to say goodbye and says he’ll be back tomorrow, Sunday afternoon.
The night passes and I wake up early Sunday morning. I head to the market to buy a duffle bag and some ingredients for lunch. The day passes quickly as I’m cleaning and making a to-do list for the few business hours I will have Monday morning before my bus leaves.
My friend calls me and we make dinner plans, being her last dinner in Huaraz before she heads off to start her own third year, but working in Lima. A few hours later, we’re at dinner when she receives a call that the next day there will be a 24-hour roadblock to protest the building of a new mine a couple hours drive outside of Huaraz, blocking passage to Lima. I feel a slight panic, and have her promise to call me when she arrives at the bus station later to see if she’s heard any developments.
On the way back from dinner, the roadblock is pushed to the back of my mind, since they are quite common and are poorly organized, disbanding before they really start. We pass the grocery store and I think of my boyfriend who must have returned from rock-climbing by now. I remember the Panetón he had wanted, and think up a surprise goodbye evening before I head off on a month of vacation. Along with his Panetón, I buy the traditional hot chocolate ingredients that are drunk at midnight Christmas Eve. Since we will both be with our families, we could share our own early Panetón and hot chocolate. I call his cell phone to see where he’s at, and it goes straight to voicemail. It’s either turned off (unlikely) or he’s still in the rock-climbing place where there is no cell phone reception (strange, since he knows I’m leaving and he has to work in the morning.) Since I can’t get a hold of him, I return to my house and continue packing. Half an hour later, with my stuff exploded all over the room, my friend calls from the bus station to say that the roadblock is the real deal and I should get there ASAP to catch a bus. Now the real panic sets in, as I look at all the stuff I’m trying to cram into one duffel bag, trying to pack for summer and winter, international travel, and my once-a-year visit to my family. I call the PC security officer to see if he’s heard how legit this protest is, and he says I might as well try to catch a night bus just in case. With my phone gripped between my ear and shoulder, smashing everything into my duffel, I call another friend who tells me the same thing. Five minutes later, I’m in a taxi heading towards the bus station, and can’t get through to my boyfriend. What a crappy non-goodbye before leaving for a month!
At the counter, I flash my ticket for tomorrow, asking what are the chances of my bus being cancelled. The completely helpful, pleasant, competent desk people, who are definitely giving me their undivided attention, tell me to wait and see tomorrow. I rapidly explain that I have a flight to catch tomorrow night, so if my bus gets cancelled, I will miss my flight. I see a bus pulling out, and ask if I can change my ticket to right then. She slowly pulls up the computer information, as I watch one of the last buses pull away. In the boarding area, I hear them call for the last bus out. This is the super-exclusive-expensive-full 180 degrees bed bus, which is double the price that this PC volunteer usually spends. I would have to pay the difference. Everyone behind the counter spends a few precious minutes giving me their opinions on the strike and saying I should wait it out, even though I see a computer screen full of empty seats on the now-boarding bus. Okay, I pull out my wallet. I place my bank card on the counter and she tells me I can’t use it. But I always use it here, and ask why I can’t use it. She points to the computer screen clock, which says 11:05pm. She says they stop using the card machine at 11:00pm. Are you kidding?!?!?! If you people hadn’t spent 10 minutes chatting amongst yourselves, flirting, and taking an eternity to look something up, it would be within the time. Plus, the card machine doesn’t decide to shut itself off at 11:00pm because it’s had a long day. There is literally no time for arguing. Luckily I had just gone to the bank. Unluckily, I bought a Panetón. I need to pay S/.45 difference in price. I have S/.30. Exactly what I spent on the Panetón for a special surprise goodbye that was abruptly cancelled.
So readers: Did my bus leave as scheduled the next day? Did I make my flight to Argentina? Did my boyfriend return to enjoy his surprise Panetón? Let’s leave it as this: I spent all day making phone calls, crying, yelling, and trying to rationalize how it came to be that I spent $400 on a fruitcake.
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09 November, 2010
Complete 180º
In the span of less than a week, my Peace Corps life has converted itself into a completely different beast.
Right before Halloween, I left my site of two years to move to the city of Huaraz. I said goodbye to glacial-water showers, constant electricity outages, lack of internet and cell phone, and my window-less cave that I called my room. Once in Huaraz, my ears no longer heard the constant jabbering of Quechua, nor the clucking chickens, cock-a-doodle-doing roosters, braying donkeys, squealing guinea pigs, barking dogs, meowing cats, and crying children. I put on my pineapple costume and enjoyed my first weekend as a city resident with a Halloween celebration and good-bye party. I said goodbye to my dearest friends of whom they had completed their two years and were ready to move on. I, on the other hand, didn’t feel I had absorbed everything I could have, and decided to embark on another year with Peace Corps. My duties as a third year volunteer seemed simple: act as the liaison between the Huascaran National Park and the other PC volunteers. In fact, I have no official title since Huaraz already has 2 PC Leaders who deal with the administrative aspect, develop potential sites for volunteers, and work out issues between volunteers and host families or community counterparts. With none of that to worry about, I headed to the National Park office to see how I might help. Figuring I’d have nothing to do for the first month while I oriented myself, I strolled in and found myself to be the main event. I was formally introduced at the Park’s monthly staff meeting, and presented with my own work space and access to all the books, materials, and human resources that the Park has to offer.
That afternoon, I sat down and pored over a 33-page scientific document that I was asked to translate from Spanish to English. Not too bad, this would keep me busy for a few weeks.
A few hours into my tedious task, someone from the Park asked if I wanted to help put out a forest fire. Seriously?
Two hours later, I was up in the mountains wearing a yellow firefighter’s jumpsuit and attacking flames with leafy branches. A farmer had been burning his field to get rid of the residual organics when it got out of hand and it spread up the mountain, destroying a 2-year forestation project that one of my fellow Park staff had worked on.
Although it was terrible that acres of Park land were going up in flames, it was incredible that I was part of the 8-person crew responsible for putting it out.
I have to constantly remind myself that I’m a Peace Corps volunteer. I have the coolest assignment in the world.
11 October, 2010
Quiet Time
It’s a typical weekday in my host family house. There’s only slightly more noise than usual, since the 4 year-old has the flu and hasn’t gone to kindergarten all week. The 9 year-old is somewhere along the autism spectrum, and has gone to school less than 10 times in the 2 years I’ve lived here. He has boundless amounts of energy, and no constructive outlet to release it. I tried teaching him the alphabet, but he couldn’t focus long enough to learn the letter “O.” I started with the “O” because it’s just a circle. Once convinced he had learned his first letter, I asked him to pick out the “O” in a word. He couldn’t. I asked him to find the letter that was a circle. He couldn’t, or simply didn’t care. After several sessions with no progress, I came to the harsh realization that I have neither the tools nor experience in special education literacy strategies. More than that, I had no patience. Living with a host family, being a stranger in the community, spending 24/7 trying to figure out how to inspire people to work, and conducting every aspect of my life in a foreign language…well, I had no more to give to my autistic host brother. Every person that visited my house asked how I lived there. “They’re my family,” I thought. According to reports of other volunteers’ families, I felt I was lucky. My host parents are Evangelical, they don’t drink, hardly raise their voices (except when scolding the kids), and treat me better than one of their own. After two years, I am a part of the family, but never stopped being a guest. I always get served first, given the best chair, served the biggest chunk of meat (if there is any), and sometimes my host mom makes a special dish that she knows only I will eat because no one else is used to eating veggies. When I’m sick, she makes special tea with fresh herbs, depending on my symptoms. If she leaves town for the day to run errands, she cooks lunch in the morning and leaves it for me. In the mornings as the kids start screaming at 6:00am, I hear her whispering angrily to be quiet, because Erica is sleeping.
It’s 11:00am, and it’s the first day in two weeks that the electricity has stayed on all day (so far). Nearing the end of my service, there is an incredible amount of documents that need to be written, in English and Spanish. But who can concentrate enough to write an articulate document? Since the kids and fam are here during the day, my quiet time tends to be after dinner when everyone settles down and then sleeps. So, between 8:00pm and 11:00pm I might get a few hours of quality quiet time. Hopefully the electricity won’t go out today.
12 September, 2010
Surviving Life in Peru
What is it like living in rural Peru? Not me, not a volunteer that earns “relatively” nothing, yet can live comfortably, eat well, take vacations. I am referring to the people I live with. The people of the most rural parts of the country. The farmers/agriculturists that provide food for the rest of the country, yet can hardly feed themselves.
After two years living in my Andean community of 300, I have been present for four harvests. Approximately every six months, from planting to harvest, a crop is produced. Unlike other parts of the country which rely on annual rains, the people of the Cordillera Blanca have the benefit of year-round glacial melt from the surrounding mountains. Even so, the profit margin is slim. The best prices come to those who harvest first, before the market is saturated. The main products of the region are potatoes, corn, peas, wheat, and kiwicha (amaranth).
Last month, it was time to harvest the peas my host family had spent six months preparing: plowing the field with two bulls, planting, watering, caring for, and finally harvesting. The whole family comes out to pick the pods off the vines. After a couple days’ work, the sacks are taken by car to the nearest town where they are sold at market. According to my host mom, a sack of peas sold for S/.120 ($43) a few months ago. Now late in the season, they sold each sack for a mere S/.50 ($18). [Current exchange rate $1 = S/.2.8.] Each family member is paid S/.10 ($3.50) and the transportation costs S/.4 ($1.50) per sack. After six months of work, my host father earned S/.30 ($10.70.) As he recounted all these details to me just a few hours ago, he described the latest harvest as a “failure.”
With less than two months of Peace Corps service to go, I can’t help but imagine what will become of my host family after I leave. I pay monthly rent of S/.120 ($43) to cover room & board. They surely depend on that income to survive. They have been talking of moving to “the city” after I leave. Whether that means an hour away or 8 hours away to Lima, I can’t imagine how that will improve their opportunities. For miles and miles outside of Lima, there are pueblos jovenes or “young towns” that are cropping up as people are abandoning the country in search of a better life. Unfortunately, what they are finding on the sandy coast is infertile farm land, higher cost of living, pollution, and distance from support of friends of family.
So what is the solution to survive?
I don’t know.
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