A
year has passed since I packed my bags and said goodbye to the US of A. To try and put all of what has happened
during that year into a blog post would be an exercise in futility, but here I
am attempting to do just that. I know
that words can only convey the haziest of representations of my year in Peru,
but I’ll do my best to give you a good outline, and from there feel free to add
in the missing details to your heart’s content.
I
never expected that my first year away from home, in a foreign country, would
have passed as quickly as it did. You
always hear how time flies, and it does whether you’re having fun or
not, but to have been staring at two years dead in the face and all of sudden
realize that one of those years has gone
by is a strange feeling. I thought I
would do so much here, change the lives of all the people in my community and
probably every person that came into contact with me through the sheer fact of
my awesomeness, but as of yet that hasn’t seemed to happen.
The
work here is slow, like an archeological dig of an amazing Tyrannosaurus Rex
skeleton, layer by layer you have to find your way, figure out what works and
what doesn’t, who works and who doesn’t.
It takes time, a lot of time. In
training you feel that projects will come out of nowhere and everyone will love
your ideas, but in reality you have to prove yourself. You’re probably very intelligent with a
wonderfully dry sense of humor and a gift for puns, but in many cases that
doesn’t translate, and it sure as hell doesn’t come out in the first couple
months. Confianza is the word, trust, and like Nomar Garciaparra in the
batter’s box, it takes some time to establish itself. But after a year, I should have something
pretty substantial to show for myself, right?
No, I don’t. I have projects
going, but nothing I can point to and say “There’s a direct result of me being
here.” Despite all of that, I’m happy with where my service is at. I’d like to have done more by this point, but
honestly I’m satisfied with what I’m doing, and that counts for something[1].
I’ve
done things here that I never fathomed.
In the year I’ve been here I’ve gone sand boarding in the desert, hiked
up to 4800 m in the snow[2],
rafted down the Amazon River on a raft I made with my friends[3],
introduced the infamous Thomas Rodgers to San Miguel de El Faique, and enjoyed
more cups of fresh squeezed orange juice than any volunteer in the history of
Peace Corps[4]. I’ve camped outside in the freezing cold
under stars and glaciers, slept in the oppressively humid jungle without a
mosquito net, and eaten more parts of a cow than I care to name[5].
There
are still days when I laugh to myself, not quite able to believe that I’m here,
doing what I’m doing. Yet there are also
days when I can’t wait to get home, wondering if being here is everything I
thought it’d be. The fact that I still
have both days is a good thing, I drank the cool-aid and I love it but I’ll
never forget that Cheerwine is still out there.
And that’s what this is, something I’m able to enjoy, learn from, and be
thankful for, but never replacing the home I left and the world I look forward
to returning to. And while I can look back on a great year, different than any
other year of my life, I also can’t forget that “only the day dawns to which we
are awake. There is more day to dawn,
the sun is but a morning star.”[6]
I’ve
been awaken to more in this year than any other year in my life, and if that’s
taught me anything it’s that I have a lot more waking up to do. For this reason I’m thankful to have a second
year here. I’ll continue to miss my
family, my home, prompt start times, and personal cars; but I have no idea what
I’ll encounter in the coming months and, to be honest, that’s not too shabby a
way to live.
[1]
Maybe not a medal or anything, but I sleep pretty well at night. Well the sleep could be a result of the rain,
I’m no meteorologist though.
[2]
Where I proceeded to take one of my top 10 all-time naps.
[3]
This was when I learned that I couldn’t, in fact, communicate with river
dolphins. Sad moment to say the least.
[4]
Unofficial claim
[5] Another
lesson, you do not receive the powers of a cow from eating its heart, other
than maybe the odd ability to stand on steep inclines.
[6]
David Thoreau, Walden
