So it’s been a pretty long time since the last post. Life here becomes normal after a while, fewer
and fewer events happen that seem worth writing about. As Red says “…prison life consists of
routine, and then more routine” and in some ways Peace Corps does as well.[1] Life here becomes pretty normal and you get
used to the routine of it all.
Happenings that at one time were extra-ordinary now fall into the
category of ‘Things you may not expect, but don’t bat an eye at.” For instance,
the other day I was sitting in my room, I had decided to forego the movie in
favor of reading. As I’m reading I hear
a noise. At first I think it’s the rats
running around, getting a little brave, so naturally I bang on the wall. The noise continues, I start to look
around. To my surprise I find a crab
crawling around my room like he’s some surveyor scoping out a new crab
sub-division.[2] I go get the broom and the dustpan and get to
work. Now who knew those little guys
were as fast as they are or that they have the ability to climb walls and wedge
themselves into a corner like a cemented brick, but after a struggle I got the
best of that claw-handed squatter.
A day passes; I’m immersed in my book at this point, reading
on the balcony. A taxi stops, the window
rolls down and two hands hold out a fox.
The driver looks at me, I look at the fox, he looks at me, and finally
the driver ends the stare down, asking if I’d like to buy the fox. Now all my life I’ve waited for this moment,
this opportunity to buy a wild fox, but for some unknown reason I decline.[3] The driver calls for my host family and asks
them the same question. No go once
again. Getting a little curious I ask my
cousin what they do with a fox, skin it maybe? No, apparently they’d put it in
a zoo. I ask where the nearest zoo is;
she looks at me like I’m a bit off and walks back inside.[4]
Writing this out, it seems pretty worthy of a blog post or
at the very least some sort of hashtag.
Maybe #elcongrejocontraelguapo or #yolofoxinthebag, but here it’s just a
part of the everyday life. If I go a
week without something like this happening then I start to feel a little
off. It would be like buying a box of
Gato that was made after 2011, probably fine to ingest but a little weird
nonetheless.[5]
And that’s my time here, fine overall but a little weird
nonetheless. Everything seems to be a
little different, even the ketchup and barbecue sauce at Chili’s. That’s what makes it so interesting. Life will be life, it will happen where it
may, but there will always be things, places, people that are similar to where
you came from but with that little difference, and that little difference
makes it all.
Now I plan for this to lead to more posts, one or two a
week, maybe. My time here is winding
down and I know how you all wait on pins and needles for the next installment
of Grandiose Thoughts and Observations,
the informal name in my head, and I plan to deliver. But I’m afraid that one of the similarities
between Peru and the States is that I fail to follow through as I should. So if I don’t put up posts like I should,
smile at the fact that not everything in this life changes.
And here’s a parting shot of Faique’s night life.[6]
