The Dreaded Teacher Auction

Last night was the dreaded teacher auction. I´m just glad it´s over with. Over the course of the evening, I learned two things: 1. It´s much more fun to watch an auction than actually be a part of it, and 2. I apparently can´t get a real date even when I´m being sold as one. Let me explain.

First of all, the party was such a popular place, there was a long line outside of people waiting to get in. I had volunteered to cashier the bar, (there were two, so I was working with Liz behind the beer bar) and we were plenty busy all night. Before the party started, we drew names to determine the order we would be auctioned off. I was super excited to draw #10 out of 10, figuring people would have time to get warmed up and be less inhibited, and I might have a chance of making some money. Then Alayne kindly pointed out that all the good bidders could have run out of money by then, so then I was back to being extremely worried.

Watching the auction itself was hilarious. So that people could see us, we had to step up onto a table and into a spotlight. I tried to remember my sister´s advice that she ripped off from Tyra Banks: Be fierce. Unfortunately, the table was short, so there wasn´t much room to be fierce. Once I was up there, there was the question of now what? What do you do with yourself while standing on a table, waiting to be sold? Luckily, the lighting wasn´t great, so no one could see how red I was getting. I could feel my face getting hotter and hotter, and afterwards, I had to fan myself constantly to cool down. Anyway, I´m happy to report that I was not, in fact, the low bid. I probably had about 5 different people bid on me, (3 of whom I had never seen before, so apparently using Maribeth´s hair straightener worked) so I was relieved about that. In the end, I sold for 90 soles (bidding started at 20) to David, the boyfriend of Julie, one of the other professors. He was pretty much just trying to get the bidding up, but was too rich for the Peruvians. In fact, out of 10, only 3 people were sold to Peruvians, and one of them was Peter, whose Peruvian girlfriend bought him, so that doesn´t really count. They started the bidding, but always seemed to stop after 50 or 60 soles. David told me I could take whoever I wanted to dinner. I´m taking Maribeth, since she´ll be helping me move tomorrow.

It was an interesting night, to say the least. I guess I should be relieved. I wasn´t the low bid, and I don´t have to suffer through an awkward date with someone who calls me "teacher" the whole time. Although Maribeth said she can be awkward if I don´t want to miss out on the awkward date experience. I think I´ll pass.

Funny sentences, Part 3

I've been really slacking on the funny sentences this month. Maybe it's because I'm such a great teacher, my students have just gotten that much better? Yeah, probably not. But here's some highlights from exam week:

• My father is building his love for the wine underground.
• Bob is Fred's brother-in-love.
• Christina Aguillera is a bizarre woman. (I think she was thinking of Britney Spears)

And this last one is courtesy of one of Ashley's advanced students. While writing a letter congratulating their grandparents on their 50th wedding anniversary one student wrote:

"Thank you for your mutation."

We never did figure out what that's supposed to mean, but we did laugh about it for an awfully long time.

Book Review: Into the Wild

I expected to admire the protagonist of Into the Wild, the real-life Chris McCandless. But now I just think he's a bit of a brat. In 1990, McCandless graduated from Emory, then left Atlanta for the west, never to be heard from again. He never told his parents what he was doing or where he was going. After hitchhiking around the country, he walked into the Alaskan wilderness two years later, and never made it out after starving to death. It's an entertaining read, but I couldn't help thinking that McCandless (who went by the name "Alexander Supertramp" during his journey) was just an idiot.

First of all, he was given everything, but resented his parents for it. Disappearing was his way of getting back at them. Selfish. Second, despite warnings from those more experienced in the Alaskan bush that he was not prepared, he insisted he was just fine, and refused to take their advice. Stupid and cocky. If he had just had something as simple as a map, he'd probably still be alive today. I just kept thinking "what an idiot" every time I turned the page. Even though it's pretty clear the author admired the man, he couldn't persuade me.

In 2018...

From Eduardo, age 13 (practicing the future tense)

In 2018, robots will do homework. I will live on the moon. I will work in the center of the moon, and be married with Shakira.

There's a kid who reaches for the stars. (Literally)

I also enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach

The dreaded Teacher Auction is this upcoming Friday, and rumors have been flying around the school about who's buying who, and which teachers are in the auction. The official list of teachers comes out tomorrow, so my homework for the weekend was to write a biography about myself (I guess that's an autobiography, huh?) in both English and Spanish. It was not an easy assignment. It's not easy to write about yourself, so Maribeth, Ashley, and I got together to help each other out. Here's my bio. I think it sums me up pretty well, let me know what you think.

• Mi cabello es rizado o lasio, depende de clima
• Tengo una obsesion extrano con el color morado
• Soy de Pensilvania (no Transilvania como Dracula)

Me gusta:

• Bailar de salsa & salsa de aji
• Tejer a crochet
• Beisbol
• Libros
• Postres

No me gusta:

• Champinonas
• Alahas
• Los persona que masticar con boca abierta
• Rod Stewart
• Demasiados de comas

Translation for those of you who did not understand a word of that:

• My hair is curly or straight, depending on the weather (Editor's note: Maribeth insisted we start with a physical description, since that's really all they're probably interested in.)
• I have a strange obsession with the color purple
• I'm from Pennsylvania (not Transylvania, like Dracula)

Likes:

• Salsa dancing & salsa the condiment
• Crocheting
• Baseball
• Books
• Dessert

Dislikes:

• Mushrooms
• Jewelry
• People who eat with their mouth open (Editor's Note: This is important, since I have to eat dinner with them)
• Rod Stewart
• Comma splices

• I intimidate men when I explain the infield fly rule (Editor's note: Did not bother to translate this one. Am convinced this is the reason I'm still single. Right, Holli?)

Corpus Cristi

Thursday was Corpus Cristi, which meant no school! It also meant loads of festivities going on in the Plaza de Armas and other plazas in town. There was a lot of processions and marching of saints around the square. I'm pretty sure everyone in Cusco was there. More than once, the three of us linked arms and were carried away by the crowd. We didn't really have much choice about which direction we were going, we were just not trying to lose one another. Luckily, we purchased brightly colored paper hats. There were people selling them everywhere, and they were just so ridiculous looking, we couldn't resist. We bought hats, and posed for pictures. I felt like such a tourist, but we were having a great time. After the picture, a student spotted me. It was a good thing she did, because she apparently thought we were having class that evening. That's when I realized I was still wearing the paper hat. Oh, well. Those hats turned out to be a very wise investment for 5o centimos. The sun was pretty harsh.

The traditional dish of Corpus Cristi is chiriuchu, but that includes guinea pig, so I of course declined. (But British Rob- as opposed to American Rob- saved a tiny claw for us. So sweet.) Walking around, there were all these tables stacked with roasted, whole guinea pigs. And today, on my way to school, I noticed plenty of vendors selling leftovers. Yum. Instead of cold cuy, I opted for coconut milk straight out of the coconut. Much better.

In the evening, we joined several other teachers for a sunset picnic on the hill overlooking the city. After a while, American Rob whipped out a frisbee, and eventually Peter managed to give himself a bloody nose. He bled through a tissue in no time, so I did the only other thing I knew to do- I shoved a tampon up his nose. He resisted a bit at first, but finally relented. Good thing, too, that wasn't an ordinary bloody nose. (Must be the altitude). Later he thanked me for saving him from bleeding to death. Glad I could help.

This can't have a happy ending

Next Friday the 30th, the teachers of Maximo Nivel (that would be my school) are hosting a party as a fund raiser to build a playground for a local school. The party will feature a Teacher Auction, where the teachers will be auctioned off as dates, dinner for two donated by local restaurants. For some reason, I agreed to be auctioned off. I'm going to be sold to a Peruvian. This is going to be a disaster in so many ways. Let me count them:

1. I will be humiliated because no one wants to buy a date with me. I should really spend the next 10 days gettin' my flirt on. You know, drum up some interest.
2. Someone has to bring in the least amount of money. I fear that will be me.
3. I will be "sold" to Eduardo, an 18-year-old with a bad BO problem, who felt the need to write me a nice long love letter two weeks ago, despite the fact we've never spoken. Dinner for 2 in Hell, please.
4. Even if I am sold to someone other than the 18-year-old, it's bound to be the Most Awkward Date ever, what with the language barrier and me being purchased and all that. But hey, it's a free meal, and I'll get to eat meat.
5. I'll randomly draw dinner at the vegetarian restaurant. Thus, no meat.

No matter which scenario pans out, I'm sure it will be a hilarious tale to tell. (Unless it's option #1. That will just be sad. Does anyone want to call in and bid for me in case of an emergency?)

When I Grow Up

Last week, I was discussing professions with my jovenes. Before asking them what they wanted to be when they grow up, I asked them what their parents did, and of course, they turned the question on me. When I told them that my father is a middle school principal, these middle schoolers seemed to get a little intimidated. Their eyes got wide, and they all went, "oooh." Then on Friday, they were eerily quiet. Too quiet. Could it be they suddenly think I have clout, that I can send them to detention? I know I'm not that lucky. They'll be bouncing off the walls on Monday again for sure, I just know it.

After learning their parents professions, it's clear that they come from the upper crust of Cuzcanean society. The doctors, lawyers, engineers, and accountants can afford to send their kids to extra English classes, so they can get into better schools and get better jobs. That's such a difference from being at the orphanage on Saturday. Many of the girls there have parents, they just can't afford to take care of their children. One of the girls got a visit from her father and brother on Saturday. Another girl asked me how old I was. When I told her I was 25, she told me I was the same age as her mother. And she's 10 years old.

Oh, to be young again

With May came a new (and improved!) class schedule. The best part being done at 8pm instead of 9! v. exciting. I also teach the same class three times in one day, so instead of lesson planning for 6 different classes, I only have to plan for 4 classes. It's cut my planning time in half. The downside being I had to teach the perfect tense 3 times in one afternoon last week. That wasn't so exciting.

The biggest change is that I finally got the jovenes class I had been asking for ever since I got here. The four o'clock hour is reserved for teenagers, and I had wanted to teach them from the beginning. I loved my TABby cats, and thought it would be a lot of fun. All the other teachers hate teaching them, and thought I was crazy. Of course, teaching them is a bit different than just planning cool things for them to do in the library. During my first class, they all asked me to go to the bathroom at least once. That's when I started my "no bathroom" policy. Class only lasts an hour. They can hold it. Not all the students had books, so I asked one of the girls to share with a boy. The reaction: "Eeeewwwwww, no teacher!" Oh, right. I forgot about that. I told her he didn't have cooties, but I think cooties was lost in translation. They "shared" the book by sitting as far away from each other as they could.

The jovenes are much more likely to speak Spanish in class than the adults. They're also much more likely to talk in class than the adults. That's when I break out The Librarian Stink Eye to get them to shut up. It works for about 30 seconds, then the whispering and giggling starts up again. I've already seperated a few. (Actually, it's really just a pack of 4 girls. The rest of the class is just fine.) They're really preoccupied with finishing an assignment first. As soon as they finish an activity, they immediately yell "Teacher, finished!" "I don't care" is my usual response. I'm trying to teach them I want it done right, not fast. And I've never heard whining like I hear every day when I assign homework. (I know, I'm so mean.) As soon as I write the word "homework" on the board, I hear a chorus of "Teeaaacher, Noooooooo!" from behind me. "What are you whining for? You never do it anyway!" This is true. I'm lucky if two of them do their homework, and it's clear they only did it to get it done. (They get a treat at the end of the week if they did all their homework.)

The funniest moment came the other day when one of the boys pointed to the other boy and said, "Teacher, he wants to be your girlfriend!" Huh. Soooo many things have to change for that to happen.

The Comforts of Home

I've been gone now for more than 4 months. I'm already halfway done with my teaching contract. It's kind of hard to believe, the time has gone so fast. No, I'm not homesick, but there are plenty of things about home that I miss. In no particular order... (this list does not include family and friends. That's a given. Plus, putting family and friends on the list is sentimental and a bit sappy, and that's not my style.)

• Baseball. Missing an entire season is harder than I thought.
  
• Water with ice. You'd never believe how accustomed I've become to room temperature water.
  
• The rest of my wardrobe. I have basically one outfit for each day of the week. I really miss standing in front of a closet (I don't have one of those either), making a decision, mixing and matching, and- I'd never thought I'd say this- high heels.
• MEAT. I only eat it when I go out, and I rarely go out. What I wouldn't give for a Bubba Burger on the George Foreman. With pickles. Mmmmmm....
  
• Food variety. This may sound weird, because I don't eat a variety of food in the first place, but Peruvians take it to a whole other level. Half the cereal aisle is corn flakes, and they're the best bargain. Therefore, I eat cornflakes every morning. I'm pretty sure I'll never eat cornflakes again after July.
  
• Cranberry juice.
• Being healthy. I miss my gym routine and being healthy in general. I always seem to be just a little bit sick here. Must be the altitude.

Things I don't miss, not even a little bit:

• Driving, and therefore, spending an arm and a leg filling up the gas tank.
• The Show.

A Life of Hard-Knocks

On the two occasions I've spent my Saturdays volunteering, I couldn't get enough of the kids. They're so friendly, grateful for any attention you can give them, and just so darn cute! So I went to Eliza, the volunteer director at my school, and asked her for a regular Saturday volunteer position. I figured my little weekend jaunts have pretty much dried up, I've been to the Amazon, the Inca Trail, Bolivia, and almost every Inca Ruin around, so I may as well do something super productive with my Saturdays.

The volunteers who are working here for a few months generally don't want to work on the weekends, since they want to travel, so it was no problem to find an orphanage that was excited to have me on Saturday. I arrived in the middle of cleaning day, half disappointed the girls weren't heartily singing "It's a Hard-Knock Life" while performing a choreographed dance routine. I was given a quick tour, then told to do whatever I wanted. There was a group of girls in the back doing the laundry by hand, (and doing a way more thorough job than I ever do). I chatted with them for a few minutes, then went inside to see what was going on. Brenda, who's about 9 years old, gave me a hug as soon as I walked in the door. She was cleaning the floor by skating around on an old sweater. I helped by sweeping for a bit, then had Brenda sit on the sweater and dragged her around. Of course, she loved it, and kept requesting that I pull her "mas rapido!" Soon I had a line of kids wanting a ride on the old sweater. I was working up quite a sweat running around. (And some of the girls were bigger than others. That was rough.)

Then one of the girls I quickly labeled The Bossy One (there was a Bossy One in Annie, right?) demanded that we color. She even told me what colors to use. When I asked where the black colored pencil was, she pulled it out of Brenda's hand in mid-use. When she got tired of coloring, she literally closed the book on our hands and presented us with a puzzle to do.

I see-sawed for the first time since I was 5 years old (and if you're looking for a good way to tone up your legs, go to a playground, get on a see-saw, and do all the work yourself. I'm still sore). I bruised my hips going down a slide built for little girls with no hips. I got kicked in the head (an accident). One girl threw a rock at another. I smoothed things out as well as I could in Spanish. But I also gave and received an awful lot of hugs. Several girls just crawled right in my lap. They read books to me. Several of them pouted when I left. Must be rough growing up in an orphanage, when everyone eventually leaves you. I wondered if I was doing more damage than good, but I did promise them I would be back next week.

Lake Titicaca: The Long-Awaited Conclusion

Internet issues have caused a delay in the posting of the conclusion to my Bolivia trip (hence the lack of pictures. Maybe later?). I apologize for any distress caused.

Saturday morning, we walked the 17km from Copacabana to Yampupata, a boat ride away from Isla del Sol, an island on Lake Titicaca. About a km in, Val and Jess decided they would rather take the two hour boat ride from Copacabana instead, but Peter and I perservered, and we were quite happy we did. The scenery was absolutely stunning. Plenty of coves and beaches, perfectly blue water. I forgot I was in South America. We walked through barely there Bolivian villages. The sun was intense. We stopped every hour on the hour to re-apply sunscreen. It was perfection.

When we got closer to Yampupata, a boy of about 8 years old offered to row us to Isla del Sol in 15 minutes. I knew he was lying, since it´s supposed to take an hour. One of the benefits of travelling through remote places is the ability for Peter and I to strategize without the kid knowing what we were saying. We decided that not only was he making promises he couldn´t keep, but we didn´t really feel all that comfortable with an 8 year old captaining the ship. We moved on while he continued his sales pitch.

Further down the road, we found an adult to row us. His name was Augusto, and he liked having his picture taken, eating our food, singing, whistling, and randomly bursting out with "Happy Happy!" Peter and I offered him part of our lunch- bread and bananas taken discreetly from the hotel breakfast buffet. After that, he asked us for any cookies or crackers we took out to snack on.

After a stop at a super-secret little cove, we set off for the island. Nice and relaxing, soaking up the sun in a row boat on a sparkling blue lake. The going was slow, but it got even slower as we got closer to the island. That´s when Augusto pulled out two more oars and handed one each to Peter and I. Once we got involved, we really started moving. I couldn´t help myself, I started a round of "Row, row, row your boat." Augusto dropped us off on a pile of rocks. We paid the man, said our good-byes, and scrambled up the rocks. We chose a path that we though would take us to some semblance of civilization, or at least some food and a place to sleep. We found both, plus another fantastic sunset.

During the night, I was having a dream that I could hear a donkey whining. I woke up to find that it wasn´t a dream, but in fact reality. On the way to the boat the next morning, I was following a herd (is that what you call it?) of 4 or 5 donkeys and passed several llamas and/or alpacas going the other way, and I wondered: When did this become normal? Because it was quite awhile before I thought anything of it.

Adventures in Traveling

Friday was spent getting from our little island to Copacabana in Bolivia. (Sorry, not that Copacabana.) It was a little more exciting than I expected. We had to take the boat back to Puno, as it is impossible to get to Bolivia by boat. When we got to the docks, there were two boats. One that was virtually empty, save for a few tourists, and one that was already packed with locals and their huge bags of goods they were taking to the mainland. We, apparently, needed to be on the boat packed with locals. Problem was, there were no seats left. That doesn't stop Peruvians, though. They had us sit on the top of the boat, with the bags of fish, potatoes, and who knows what else. The wind made it very, very cold up there, and it wasn't exactly comfortable to sit on a sack of potatoes, or to have a front row seat for all the men urinating off the front of the boat, but I chalked it up to an experience you can't have anywhere else. To pass the three hours, Val, Peter, and I played that celebrity name game, where you name a celebrity, then the next person names a celebrity whose first name begins with the same letter as the previous celebrity's last name. I don't know how we did it, but we played that game for three solid hours. We just never stopped. We named every major celebrity, minor celebrity, dead people, and the entire royal family. "Good to know the royal family is good for something," said Peter.
After docking at Puno, we said our goodbyes to Al, who was off to La Paz, and headed for the bus station to catch a bus to the Bolivian border. The bus ride was supposed to take 2 hours, but we got stuck in a traffic jam on a dirt road when a truck got stuck in the world's largest pothole and had to be pulled out. While stopped, we watched in awe as a man got out of his bus or truck, walk into the field right next to the road, pull his pants down, squat... and take a dump. And how. I get performance anxiety when there's someone in the next stall, but this man has no problems going in a field with a line of traffic and literally hundreds of eyes watching him. I don't know if that's something to be admired or pitied. (I've been in South America too long to be all that shocked, sadly.)
We finally reached the border about 3 hours after leaving Puno. The first obstacle was to get out of Peru. Peter and I both had expired Visas, and therefore had to pay $1 a day over our 90 days. I went to hand the man my $9, but he told me I had to pay at the bank. Great, where's the bank? It was in the last town, and required taking a combi (a large van, or a very small bus, depending on how you like to think about it). We had less than an hour before the Bolivian border closed for business, so this was not good news. Peter and I hopped in the combi for the 5 minute drive back to the last town, which is truly a dead end town. The driver dropped us off in the town square, which was pretty deserted. We asked him to wait for us; he said he would wait for only a minute, but he sped off pretty quickly. Then, as if I we were in The Amazing Race, Peter and I took off in a run across the square to the bank. The woman in front of us turned around, saw us running, dropped all her bags in the street, and started running too. Peter yelled after her, "We're not trying to race you!," but of course she didn't understand. She thought it was hilarious, and burst into giggles when we got into the bank. Peter and I were not as amused. Finally, after returning to the border, being forced to go across the street to make three copies of almost every page in my passport, they let us out of Peru. Now it was Bolivia's turn.
Peter is British and Jess Canadian, so they got their passports stamps and were able to walk through. Val and I, however, are evil Americans and therefore must pay (literally!) for it. We had to show copies of a credit card, hotel reservations and a bus return (fabricated for us by the travel agency housed in my school), extra paperwork, and the kicker: $100 in cash. I wanted to tell them two things: 1. I voted democrat in the last two presidential elections (and in the first one, my vote apparently didn't even count). 2. The light is at the end of the tunnel! By next year, we'll have a new president and be a kinder, gentler nation! But I didn't think that would really help. The border guard took a little too much joy in taking our money. He even told Val that one of the twenty dollar bills she handed him wasn't good enough for Bolivia. Excuse me? You demand we pay you in our money, then tell us it isn't good enough? Drop the God complex, buddy. I handed over my $100 and can now come and go into Bolivia for the next 5 years. (Thank you, Mr. President. Your bill is in the mail.)
There were fiestas going on in Copacabana, so we had a bit more difficulty finding a hostal than we would have thought. We had to stay in a hotel for slightly more money, (about the equivalent of $5-6 more.) After a fantastic Mexican dinner (and if you think all food in South America is Mexican, you are wrong. Very, very wrong.), we walked around to check out the fiestas. It was basically several marching-style bands playing all at the same time, while local Bolivians danced around drunkenly. Peter and I, of course, decided to join them. The locals loved this. They taught us a few moves, we taught them a few moves, they gave us a few drinks. Several of them even asked to have their pictures taken with us. Instant celebrities.
Later, as we were falling asleep in the hotel room, Val suddenly said, "No one mentioned Julia Roberts today." Maybe next time. If there is a next time...

Lake Titicaca

On Wednesday night, I graded exams as fast as I could, with a little help from a few others. At 10:00 I boarded an overnight bus for Puno, on the shores of Lake Titicaca with two other teachers, Val and Peter, and Jess, a friend of Val's. We arrived in Puno around 5:30 in the morning. It was freezing in Puno, but the sun was INTENSE. I applied sunscreen almost every hour, but my nose still got fried. (And it did warm up during the day, by the way, but once that sun went down, it went back to freeeeezing.)
We caught a boat to the floating islands of Uros. It was a gorgeous morning. The blue color of the lake is unreal. And when we got to Uros, it was just plain surreal. I don't know how, but the islands were actually built by hand centuries ago, so people could escape the brutality of the Inca empire. They literally float. We got a demonstration of how that works, but I still don't quite get it. The ground squished when you walked on it. We talked to a local family and bought some fried bread that the woman had just made. We watched them catch fish for their dinner, and saw the fish struggle until it had wrestled it's way out of the boy's hands. I, of course, was kind of grossed out.
We took a traditional reed boat to the next part of the island, accompanied by two local girls, sisters, one of whom flashed me her panty-less bottom more than once. They impressed us by singing, even songs in English and French. Then, of course, they asked for propina. Val gave them cheetos.
Back on the other boat (that actually had an engine) we began the three hour sail to the island of Amantani, where we planned on spending the night. On the boat, we met an Australian named Al, who joined our group. We spent the three hour boat ride chatting with Al and playing UNO (yes, the UNO that came with my library care package.) When we got to the island, we found a family to house and feed all 5 of us. I was very impressed by our host family for the night. The father was so friendly. He proudly gave Peter and I a tour of his garden, and made sure we had everything we needed. The mother never stopped smiling. The plaster around the windows had peeled, revealing the mud bricks underneath, they had no electricity, an outhouse in the garden (no shower), but they were so happy. I thought all 5 of us would be sleeping in one room, but we were spread out in 3 different rooms (each room was basically a different building. Their house was a very small complex of mud huts), which made me wonder if all 6 members of the family slept in one room.
After lunch, we hiked up to the top of the mountain, where there were some pre-Incan ruins and an awesome view for sunset. We beat all the other tourists to the top, so we had the place to ourselves for a little while. While I was up there, two local girls in full traditional dress decided I looked like a volleyball player, and began setting a ball to me. We peppered for quite a while. There I was, in the middle of pre-Incan ruins on an island in the middle of the highest navigable lake in the world, playing volleyball with two Peruvian girls. Just your average Thursday night.
Then the sun set. It was awesome. Being in Cusco, I miss sunsets. With the height of the surrounding mountains, it just gets dark. But the sunset over the lake just kept getting better and better. You can't create colors like that. After the sun disappeared and so did all the colors, the stars came out. I don't think I've ever seen so many stars in my life. While looking for all those southern hemisphere constellations you can't see north of the equator, a shooting star went by. Ahhh, perfection.