30 days and counting

5 months down, 1 month to go. On August 2, I'm flying to Lima with my parents and sister, who will have been visiting me that last week that I'm here. And then what? They'll fly back to the States, and I'll head south to Chile, then Argentina, then everywhere else I feel like going until I decide it's time to go home. Or I run out of money. One or both will happen before Christmas, so I'll be home by then.

Then comes the hard part: starting all over again. Luckily, after years of searching for the right job to support me through my impending spinsterhood, I've found it. (I make single look good. I plan on continuing that.) Teaching English is just down right fun. (Have you read my funny sentences?) I make an idiot out of myself on a daily basis, and yes, I do occasionally feel the need to bang my head off the wall, but the payoffs are awesome. If anyone knows of any teaching ESL jobs available in the Atlanta area, please let me know!

Book Review: Lonesome Dove

There's this feeling you get when you finish a really, really good book. You haven't been able to put it down, but you don't want it to end. And when you do finish it, you feel that emptiness, like something wonderful has just ended. That's exactly what I felt like today at approximately 2:30pm.

I picked up Lonesome Dove for the first time about a year ago, at the urging of my good friend Mark, who had been trying to get me to read it for some time. It's a massive book, and I just wasn't in the mood, so I got about 2 pages in before putting it down. It's a Western, and westerns aren't really my thing. I'm more of a Bridget Jones kind of girl.

While complaining about having no good books to read in Peru, Mark again urged me to read Lonesome Dove. I told him I would read it if he would send me a copy, not actually expecting him to do so. But he did, all 945 pages of it. This time, I had no other options, so I dug in. I had my doubts still after the first few pages, but soon I found I couldn't put it down. It's about a group of cowboys and a whore on a long cattle drive from Texas to Montana. It still doesn't sound that interesting, even after I've read it, but the characters are all so rich and very real. First of all, they have cool cowboy names like Pea Eye, Needle, Gus, and Newt. When trying to pick my favorite character, I just keep going. I like Deets, the scout, and Po Campo, the little Mexican cook, and Gus, who can't stop talking, and Newt, the baby of the bunch. There's not a bland character in the group. The wild west can get a big gory for my taste, but I just kind of skimmed the bloody parts. Throughout the journey, tragedy strikes several times, some of which made me very upset (but then again, if it wasn't good, I wouldn't care, right?). When it was all over, I found myself getting a bit choked up, not just because it was a sad ending, but because it was over. Now that's a good book.

Now I'm at a complete loss for reading materials, so if anyone wants to send any my way, please feel free. Gone With the Wind? Bring it on.

Funny Sentences, Part 4

I've got some doosies this month. Please pardon any vulgarity that may be implied.

Shouted out for the world to hear by Edwin, my favorite joven, who needed an example sentence using the word "single": The teacher is single!
Thanks, buddy. (Made even funnier by the fact that he's a tiny little guy, with chipmunk cheeks, freckles, braces, and glasses. So cute!)

• I love to conversate with you. (Points for making up new verbs)
• When did you and your boyfriend first feel?
• We collected Pig of Eart. It was horrible but funny. (I haven't the slightest idea)
• I was outside with your mom.
• My friend lays me all the time. (The vocabulary word was "layer." When I explained what she wrote, she got a bit red in the face.)

I may have more to add tomorrow...

... and I do!

• I hope everyone is as well as my cat.
  

Templeton update

The rat is STILL alive. I mentioned it to my landlords today when I saw them, and they were pretty shocked, and told me the exterminator did indeed come and pull a rat out. Great, I have a whole family of Templetons down there. I think I'm just going to have to accept the fact that I have a roommate. So gross...

Real Sun Worshipping

All the parades, and all the parties of the last week had been leading up to today, Inti Raymi. Inti Raymi is the ancient Incan celebration of the sun. It starts in the morning, with a ceremony at Q'orikancha, once the Incan capital before the Spaniards built a cathedral over it, then heads to the Plaza, before going up the hill to Saqsayhuaman. I met up with a few of my amigos, but we skipped the procession in order to get to Saqsayhuaman early. We needed to claim a spot on the hill opposite the ruins, since a ticket to get into the park and sit in the bleachers cost ninety dollars. Not ninety soles, ninety dollars. Things I would pay ninety dollars to see: (plane tickets to exotic locations not included) 1. Atlanta in a World Series clinching game. 2. An MLB All-Star game- good seats. 3. Possibly Madonna, depending on which tour we're talking about. That's it. So I was fine with pushing my way through the hordes of people to find a place to drop our blankets.

We managed to find a pretty good spot, with a decent view of what was happening. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, one that required lots of sunscreen. Appropriate, since we were there to worship the sun. Half the fun was sitting out in the sun, munching on our picnic lunches, and buying ice cream from the vendors. (I had an excellent lucuma popsicle. Mmmm.) By the time the Inca warriors filed in, the place was packed. The ceremony was in Quechua, the Incan language. I tried to follow along in the English guide I bought, that included the entire script in English. It was pretty difficult, though, since an entire paragraph in English is apparently only a few words in Quechua. Due to a small tree blocking my view, I occasionally stood up to take a picture or two (as did my companeros). This caused a few people behind me to throw rocks at me. Don't worry, the Peruvians seriously throw like girls, (and I don't, so if I wanted to, I could have taught them a lesson, but I didn't, of course.) I was unharmed.

The highlight of the whole event was when a group of Peruvians decided the empty hill across from us was too empty and broke through the yellow PELIGRO tape and stormed the hill. Then everyone between hills who couldn't see a darn thing decided to do the same. It was far too many people for the police to do anything about, so they didn't. The highlight of the whole event was supposed to be the llama sacrifice, made to the sun. Up until very recently, they actually sacrificed a real live llama, right there in front of everyone. Then PETA, everyone's favorite animal rights group (insert sarcastic face emoticon) showed up and changed all that, so we got a fake sacrifice. I'm sorry if you are a card-toting member of PETA, but they are my least favorite charitable group. Yes, animals have rights, but mankind has survived all this time by eating them. Besides, it's not everyday you get to see a ritual sacrifice, and now I've missed my chance. Le sigh.

Parading in Peru

Last night, I had the opportunity to march in my first Peruvian Parade. The occasion: Inti Raymi, a Cuscanean holiday devoted to the sun god. The parade consists of almost every business, community, or group marching up Avenida El Sol into the plaza, where they are announced to the mayor of Cusco. The parade starts in the morning, and goes into the night. (I was trying to figure out who would stand on the side of the road and watch such a parade. It was fun to be in, but I can't imagine it would be all that exciting to watch.)

We met up at the school, where they loaned all the teachers a blue poncho, and several students joined us (but they had to bring their own ponchos). We lined up right outside our building, waving little Maximo Nivel flags and chanting. The whole atmosphere was electric. People actually cheered for us (but then again, we were a pretty entertaining group, the gringos in ponchos, dancing around). We walked up Avenida El Sol, and into the plaza, setting off firecrackers. When we arrived at the mayor's post in front of the Cathedral, he was sitting in a tent on top of the stairs, flanked by other important looking people. When we were announced, he waved to us, and we waved back- and British Rob bowed to him, as I'm sure he's been instructed to do when meeting the Queen. It was much fun.

The Winter Solstice

As you may have read in the last post, the goal for the weekend was to see an awesome sunrise. I left on Saturday, the shortest day of the year, with Rob, Jenny, Dave, and Stephanie, 4 other teachers, for Tres Cruses, overlooking the Amazon. The bus ride was pretty dramatic. Not long after leaving Cusco, we left the paved road for a narrow dirt one, that wound up through the mountains. I got a little nervous when I looked out my window to see that the road had disappeared beneath me. I felt like I shouldn't even be leaning towards the window, for fear that I would upset the balance of the bus and cause it to tumble down into the ravine. No such thing happened.

Three hours later, we arrived in Paucartambo, the last town before Tres Cruses (and a complete dustbowl. I was filthy before the trip even really began). We had to do some bargaining to get a taxi driver to take us the remaining two hours, and who would promise to pick us up Monday morning. We arrived at our destination just before dark, which gave us just enough time to set up camp. I had borrowed a sleeping bag and rented a tent and a heavy down jacket (which I was very grateful for) before we left, so I was all set.

When we got there on Saturday evening, all we could see was fog. As we were sitting outside our tents, we had about a 10-minute window where the clouds broke and all we could see were millions of brilliant stars, ala Lake Titicacca, but the clouds rolled in again. Still, we woke up at 4:30 am, ever the optimists. Only to be disappointed. It was clear overhead, and the moon was so bright, it was casting a shadow. But overhead is not where sunrises happen, and the horizon was much too cloudy. No sunrise this morning.

For most of the day, we were completely socked in, with a slight drizzle (it's wet inside a cloud). And we were completely alone. It was kind of like being in a horror movie. Wet or not, we headed down into the jungle for a bit of a hike. The trail was awesome, full of little canyons and cool foliage. We went through a couple eco-systems in one hike. After returning from our hike, an amazing thing happened: the fog cleared! We could see the sky! And the mountains surrounding us! It was beautiful! Of course, there was still a layer of clouds over the forest below, but it's a cloud forest, so what can you expect? We had very high hopes for the morning sunrise. Only to have them dashed- again. By morning, the clouds had rolled in again, and it was not to be.

Despite the sunrise disappointment, it was a good weekend away from the Cusco craziness- until the bus ride home. Because of Inti Raymi, everyone wants to go to Cusco, so the bus was standing room only- for 4 hours. At first, I sat myself down in the middle of the aisle, but I didn't like that so much. Soon, the extremely bumpy, windy roads, combined with the airless bus filled with, shall we say, fragrant Peruvians, began to take their toll, and I began to turn various shades of green. Luckily, I never needed the plastic bag I rummaged up, thanks to the woman next to me, who got up for about 20 minutes (doing what, I have no idea). Just that time that I was able to sit down and close my eyes was enough to make me feel somewhat healthy, but I was very, very happy to arrive in Cusco. Just in time to march in a parade! (details on that coming later...)

The impending weekend

It's been awhile since I've gotten out of Cusco, and I think this weekend, it's time. We have a 4-day weekend coming up, since everyone will be too busy worshipping the sun to bother with English class on Monday and Tuesday. While I definitely don't want to miss that, I'll be getting out of town on Saturday and Sunday to watch a sunrise. Here's what Lonely Planet has to say:

The view of the mountains dropping away into the Amazon Basin here [Tres Cruces] is gorgeous in itself, but from May to July it's made all the more magical by the sunrise phenomenon that optically distorts the dawn into a multicolored light show with double images, halos and unusual tints.

Sounds pretty cool, huh? At the moment, I'll be going with two other couples, since I do so enjoy being the fifth wheel (insert sarcastic face emoticon here) and I'll freeze my you-know-what off camping, but I think it will be a good time.

Templeton update

In the last week, my computer was in critical condition (it's been repaired and is now functioning again), my traveling pants died, but Templeton (the name I've given to that thing that lives under my floor) is, unfortunately, still alive. I've been told on at least 5 different occasions that the exterminators would be coming "tomorrow." Five tomorrows later, Templeton is still squeaking his way beneath my floorboards and keeping me from sleep. I'm tired. The rat must die.

Cusco is a changin'

Since I first arrived in Cusco at the end of January, the city has undergone a complete change.

First of all, I arrived in rainy season. It rained at least once every day. Even if there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky, I still had to stuff my rain coat into my bag every time I left the house. It was a pain in the you-know-what. The surrounding mountains were lush and green as a result. Now, it's dry season. There is never a cloud in the sky (although the last few days have been very rare and overcast for a few hours in the morning), and it never rains. My rain coat is at the bottom of my drawer, hasn't been touched in months. The lush, green of the mountain has been replaced with brown. (The green you see in the photo is due to daily watering.)
The downside to the dry weather is just how cold it is. Due to my Chinese oven heating, my apartment is warmer than the average Cuscanean apartment in the evening, but by morning, I have a hard time getting out of bed due to the cold. (Remember, central heating does not exist here.) I bundle up to get to school in the morning, but strip off the layers by mid-day, as the sun is quite intense.

Dry season equals high season as far as tourism goes. The streets are packed, and gringos are everywhere. It's a good thing I moved so close to school. In February, I could hail a taxi in a second, now I hear horror stories of people waiting up to 30 minutes to find one. With the Inti Raymi holiday coming up next week, (the holiday devoted to the sun god, which culminates in a llama sacrifice at Saqsaywaman. I get to march in a parade and have a 4-day weekend.) there are about 10 parades a day in preperation. The streets are busier, the school is busier (I'm teaching 7 classes now), but the city is very alive and bustling.

R.I.P. Traveling Pants

Yesterday, I lost an important member of my traveling community. My first pair of traveling pants. (Traveling pants. n. a pair of pants worn not for their attractiveness (which they don't really have) but for their practicality, and the ability to adjust and be rolled up and held in place with snaps or buttons to acommadate the weather, or activities such as biking.) The pants were already ripped due to extreme wear and tear, and yesterday, I put them on for the anticipated manual labor we would be doing at the playground. While putting on my socks, I heard a loud rrrrrip of the fabric. They were ripped beyond decency. It's time to put them down.

I bought the pants before Holli and I went on our backpacking adventure around the British Isles 3 years ago. They have been to England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, Finland, Estonia, Denmark, Ecuador, and now Peru. They've biked the Dingle Peninsula, climbed an Alp (well, on one of those cable car thingys), crossed the Baltic Sea, salsa danced, and a whole lot of other things in the US that just don't sound that impressive. They have served me well, and will be sorely missed. Rest in Peace, Traveling Pants. You may not have looked good, but you worked good. (yes, I'm an English teacher. Yes, I know the proper grammer is "worked well," but worked good made the sentence flow better. Artistic liberty.)

In order to honor the memory of the Traveling Pants, I would like to make them into something else. Any suggestions?

Computer on life support

I turned on my computer the other day and realized I was looking at The Blue Screen of Death. Currently, it's in a shop, and I'm waiting to find out if it's dead or just in a coma. However, if it's fixed on "Peru time" then I won't be getting it back. They told me to call back yesterday to find out about the price and timetable, but then told me to call back today. Templeton (the rat beneath my floor) was supposed to be dead on Tuesday, then Thursday, now Monday. Today we went out to build the playground we raised money for with the infamous teacher auction. The playground equipment was supposed to be delivered yesterday, then at 11am today. After we spent several hours mixing and pouring concrete and leveling earth, it still hadn't arrived. Now they say Monday. My students come to class without books, because for some reason, they won't buy them when they register for class. When I ask them where their books are, they always, always respond with "Tomorrow, teacher." I'm fast learning that "tomorrow" simply means anytime after today.

My blog and photo posting may be a bit slow for this reason this week. I'll try to get some new pictures up as soon as I can.

And please, don't call me Shirley

I've said it before, but Peruvians have strange names. Obviously, nothing will ever top Hitler, but I have quite a few this month that make me chuckle a bit when I call on them. While there are no Mussolinis or Stalins or Castros, there are some that make you raise your eyebrows. (By the way, Hitler went from my class to Jake's class, but hasn't been seen in a few months. I could insert a few horrible jokes here, but I'll refrain.)

First of all, Peruvians have a lot of English names that haven't been in vogue for years. For example, my first class has two girls names Shirley, both of whom are younger than me. I feel like I should be talking to a couple of 74-year old women, not two girls who appear to be about 19. A rundown of some of the other strangeness:

• Igor. I always feel the need to say his name in a low, ominous voice, followed by an evil cackle.
  
• Liwi. I never imagined there to be a name that rhymes with "kiwi."
• Kleber. This one is just plain stupid. It's like "clever" only it's not.
  
• Valeria. (rhymes with "maleria") This one isn't strange. It's the Spanish version of Valerie. In fact, we have a teacher named Valerie, but we call her Valeria as a joke, because, well, it sounds like an STD you can only acquire in the jungle.
  
• Alain and Alexis. Two men.
  
• I have at least one Carlos, if not two, in every class, along with a handful of Joses and Luis'. If I can't remember a name, I just call on "Carlos" and see who answers.
  

I understand that these names don't seem so strange to them. I mean, everytime I called on Hitler, I'd look around to see if anyone else found it strange, but they didn't blink an eye.

Inca Trail revisted

Remember that day my camera broke during my once-in-a-lifetime hike of the Inca Trail? Well I do. Here are the much anticipated, long lost photos from day 3 of that hike. Thanks to Kris for allowing me to hi-jack his camera, then send me so many via e-mail, a process I have no doubt was long and painful. As you can see, day 3 included the best scenery.

Things that go squeak in the night

I have a problem with my new apartment. There is something living under the floor. I've been pretty lucky so far. Everything I read about South America before coming mentioned the large amount of cockroaches, and thus far *knock on wood* I haven't seen a one. They probably can't handle the altitude. At first I heard the pitter patter of 4 little feet scurrying beneath my own feet. I wasn't too happy about it, but I kind of ignored it- until I went to bed. While lying in bed, the scurrying sounds 3 times as loud. And then it starts squeaking. On Wednesday, I told my landlord about it. He said, "I'll talk to the Chinese." The Chinese being the people at the Chifa restaurant below me. (Note to self: Do not eat at this particular Chifa restaurant.) Last night, I didn't hear anything for a good long while, and was actually beginning to think that maybe the rat (or whatever it may be. Oh, dear. What if it's a bat?!) had already been caught. Then the squeaking started. And how. It was so loud I was convinced Templeton had to be in the apartment. It actually sounded like a puppy whining, but I know I'm not that lucky. I was afraid to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, and was really wishing my light switch wasn't on the other side of the room.

In the light of day, I scoured the floorboards, making sure there weren't any holes big enough for Mickey or Minnie to crawl through. There weren't. (And in the black of midnight, my imagination has conjured up images of a rat straight out of The Princess Bride.) Although if I ever do find two beady little eyes staring back at me, I'm sure my screams will be enough to jumpstart my landlord- who lives a mere 20 yards away- into action.

Sometimes I Regret Teaching English...

I taught "regret" for the 5th time today. Last month, I taught it three times in one day. The first time, I thought it would be a piece of cake. How hard can it be? When you did something you wish you hadn't. Easy, right? Apparently not to Peruvians. While I've had better luck each time, I'm still met with blank stares, although nothing compares to that first time.

The key to teaching a second language is examples, examples, and more examples. You can look a word up in the dictionary, but that doesn't give you context. While teaching regret, I thought I whipped out some solid examples that I thought they'd really relate to. I regret drinking so much last night. I regret dating him. I regret wearing these shoes. I regret buying that dress. I may as well have been talking to the wall. I was tempted to give the example "I regret teaching this lesson right about now." I can't figure out why it's so hard to understand. "Regret" directly translates to "lamentar" in Spanish, which also means "bemoan" or "wail." But do they use it the same way? Do Peruvians live with no regrets? Do they have such a hard time with the concept of regret because they just don't understand that feeling? Wow, what a concept! Can you imagine living life without any regrets, only ever thinking about what's happening, and not what happened? It makes me feel kind of guilty for introducing the concept.

My new casa

I moved to a new apartment this weekend. For various reasons, we decided to say good-bye to Chester and move out of our super classy glass house. I wasn't really excited about the prospect of apartment hunting, and I was getting nervous as I had a week to go and still no prospects. I looked at two other apartments that had been inhabited by two other teachers who finished last month. Neither of them had kitchens, which I find pretty important. Frank kept trying to sell me on the cable tv. Apparently we have different priorities.

Luckily, I managed to find an adorable little studio apartment, only a 5 minute walk from school. No more hailing taxis before 7am! I'll have a surplus of change now. From the time I looked at the place to the time I moved in, it improved. They painted the walls and added some gorgeous artwork. Instead of tile, the floors are wood. This place is not institutional at all. And... I have a closet! I can actually hang up my clothes! And I have a microwave! I don't have to reheat leftovers on the stove anymore! Although I do prefer making popcorn the old-fashioned way on the stove, so I think I'll keep right on doing that. (Besides, a single bag of microwave popcorn costs more than an entire bag of popping corn.) It's the little things that are exciting here in Peru, let me tell you. I'm also excited that the pipe for an oven in the Chinese restaurant below goes right through my apartment. Heating! I am, however, confused by the machine of some sort that causes the entire room to vibrate for minutes at a time. I guess I'll just have to get used to that.