Or so it appears. I don’t want to make such a broad statement without facts to back it up. I have no facts. Other than I think these women see something in me that I don’t see in myself. An expert chef. Or at the very least, an expert potato washer. Yes, there is a bit of a difference. But both have some demand in Paris I’d imagine. It’s true. I’m beginning to think New York may be too low brow for me and I need to expand to a more romantic, cultured area. Seriously though. The past roommate of who I volunteered with did not work in the kitchen for his 5 weeks he was there before I arrived. Last week we worked three straight days exclusively in there, and today I seemed to split my time in between there and the classroom. It’s okay though. I’d rather not hold the guilt of being the one responsible for 200 children not eating because I thought I was too good for a kitchen. It’s not that I even think I’m too good for a kitchen. It’s more that I think I’m too bad for it. Bad’s probably a bad word too. I’m not bad. I’m just slow. I am much better at working with three years olds that barely understand than I am at washing potatoes. Oh they’re clean alright. They’re real clean. Maybe too clean. The woman that showed me spent around 10 seconds. Did I possibly triple (minimum) her speed? Yes. But was there a speck of dirt on that potato? Of course there wasn’t. Does that get a bit mind numbing once you’re on potato 200? You betcha. Regardless, it helps the children, it helps the staff, it helps the whole system, and that’s what us volunteers are there for. To make it easier on the permanent staff so we do what we do! I’ll just be interested in how it goes next week since six of the ten new people arriving this weekend are supposed to volunteer there. We’ll see how that goes.

In other news, a while back I was talking to a friend about it’s crazy how one can go from one area of Lima to another and see such a disparity, more specifically in regards to the richer and poorer sections. He was mentioning that that happens in every city though, you have your nice parts and your more “slummy” areas. Of which he was not wrong. Except Lima is different. It would be like the nicest neighborhood in your city is relocated to right next door to the poorest neighborhood in your state. Driving around (i.e. being driven around) to Barranco, one drives through Miraflores. These are all districts of Lima. Lima has 42 districts, plus a mayor for each district and a mayor for the entire city and that’s a reason the politics in Lima are so screwy but that’s a story for a different day. It is like driving through an oasis. An oasis of green, and wealth, and architecture, and everything you could ever desire. It doesn’t even seem like the same country. There are no unpaved roads, there are no stray dogs, there are no clouds of diesel exhaust, there are no slums. Again, you have things like this in every city. True. But not where you can get from one area like this to another in 10 minutes. In ten minutes you can go from an area without electricity, without running water, without a functional roof to a district that has a underground shopping mall, more parks than you’d ever need, Gucci stores, BMWs every which way. It is truly astounding. I was wondering if the people in that area even care about the lesser parts. Why would they? Why would they ever venture out into it? So much construction too. So much growth. It seems that Lima has just said “Well this area is beautiful, this area gets tourists, the other parts? They’ll survive somehow. Let’s sink all our money here.” There are skyrises galore and in other places just a few minutes away you won’t find a single location with more than a single story. It’s a beautiful area. Actually, both have their beauty in their own ways but how it’s such a ringing reminder of the differences between the rich and the poor is truly astounding. Nice looking beaches though. Seem pretty popular. I guess it is getting summer. Still doesn’t make that Pacific Ocean any warmer though. So it goes.

And a daiquiri. And two or so drinks of straight whiskey. I had a beautiful blog post planned about the day that I had. Too bad. So sad. Instead, I just want to say that this group I had for the last two weeks were good people. Real good people. I can only hope that the new groups up ahead can rival and/or surpass them. I’m excited for what comes ahead and I’ve enjoyed what’s happened already. Okay, I need to drink some more water.

And other tales of today!

Long story short, he is not bringing home a wife. Anticlimactic I know. That doesn’t change the we had a nice discussion about it. That doesn’t change the fact that we weighed the pros and cons. We may be ignorant because we could not think of very many cons. To paint the scene, the kitchen was understaffed today. Our teacher that we work with told us we’d need to help in the kitchen for an hour or so. In Peruvian time that meant around four hours or so. When I was younger in life, I had a dream. A specfic dream. A dream that I realized I may not be cut out for today. I was going to move to New York and become a dishwasher. I was going to enrich myself with culture and the arts while meagerly surviving on a tiny salary. It was going to be a glorious adventure that I would embark on with a great friend. Today. Today, I learned that I probably don’t have the chops to be a quality dishwasher. Did I completely rock an apron and some cute pink dishwashing gloves? Of course I did. But what’s more impressive than my dishwashing ability is my ability to peel fruits. A fruit you say, “How simple a task that must be.” Believe me friend, maybe it is an easy task, maybe not everyone struggles with papayas to the likes that I did, but I’ll believe it when I see it. Okay, I did see it. From the lady that showed me and from the guy I volunteer with. Did they both thwart my efforts to be the best papaya peeler in all the land? Yes. Handily. Though I gave it my steadfast all. It was a shopping cart of papayas okay. An entire shopping cart! That’s a lot of papayas. They get slippery. That cutting board with all the juice? It’s hard to consistently cut on there. I can’t help I’m used to normal peelers and not giant knives that I’m handed! Did I struggle on even cutting a peach too? Sure, maybe a little bit. It was like over a hundred peaches. Did the woman recommend that we cut towards our body because it’s faster? Of course she did. Is there a logic to that? I have no idea! Did I feel like the only thing saving me from stabbing myself was the thick apron? Of course.

But onto my roommate and a Peruvian wife. The important issue. What everyone really is reading this for. I must say, though I am trying to grow a beard by the day here in Peru I think my lack of facial hair is hurting my chances with the kitchen cooks here where I volunteer. Or maybe my lack of tattoos all over. How else could one explain the attention heaved onto my fellow volunteer. Sure, he’s been there for seven works. Sure, he knows some Spanish and actually has a way to communicate with them. Sure, he’s leaving this week and they know that so it makes sense why they might ask him for his Facebook information. Sure, he may dance better to salsa music and be a better peeler on a variety of things. I can only hope by the end of my stay that I have offers for a woman to come back to the Estados Unidos and be either my wife or maid. He’s had both! Not even a maid, a chef and a maid. Two for the price of one. He seems reluctant to do so but ultimately appears to be declining their offers. He says the offers were tongue in cheek and I don’t doubt it, but he also thinks that if he seriously offered it they would be hard pressed to say no. It is true, their new life would have a myriad of new opportunities and better social justice among other things. What I’m trying to say is that as of right now no opportunities have been presented to me. However, if I find a nice sweet girl who knows her way around a kitchen and hasn’t already started a family without me that I’d probably consider it. I’m joking of course. I think. So it goes.

Today! Speaking of today, today is my father’s birthday so let’s all wish a hearty birthday wish to Bob Wolverton. You may have to speak up, he’s getting old. And before you all riot in the streets, I did bring a camera to Peru. I have been taking pictures of Peru. I have been taking pictures in Peru. In our volunteer sites, we aren’t supposed to take photos. If you go to the website of where I work (http://www.inabif.gob.pe/) you’ll even find some of the photos have blurred out the faces. I’m not entirely sure why. I’ve heard that since these kids aren’t coming from very good homes that some people could actually be hiding from other people. I don’t know the reason. It’s for their safety. So we aren’t supposed to take photos. However, the volunteer I work with that’s been here for 7 weeks now has taken at least a hundred photos of the children he told me. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think anyone would have batted an eye, if at the very least, I took out my phone and starting taking some snapshots. Why today you ask? Why not every day? Well for one, I’m not sure how many photos one would want to see of a frustrated me trying to get kids to hurry up and stop playing around in the bathroom. They are very enamored with buckets. I’m not meaning to ramble on and on about what I wish I could have taken photos Tof without doing so. Today, we had another fiesta. The second fiesta in two weeks! From what I gathered, a local high school (apparently a more affluent one) did a toy and food drive to help the less fortunate children of El Salvador. I’m talking every single kid here got a toy. There were Barbies (or the equivalent that thereof), monster trucks, dinosaurs, action figures, baby dolls, Hello Kitty, race cars, you name it and a kid probably was lucky to get it. They even had bags of canned and dry foods for the children to take home to their parents.  [I should add here that I had written another 500 words and it magically up and deleted itself. I’ll try to capture the tone I had going there.]

I don’t know the living situation of the children that I work with. What I do know is that the district I’m in barely has paved roads. I can’t say with certainty if this is the only Christmas gift they’ll see all year or not. What I can say is that it was just a magical moment. To see children rip open a wrapped package and to see the look of glee upon their tiny faces. It’s a moment that you cherish until reality comes crashing down when you get punched in the genitals for just touching one of their toys to admire it. Still, it was good times and I’m glad I’m getting to take part in all of these big events. Especially since I barely have a grasp of the language, I can just smile real big and point at things and say Muy Bueno and hope for the best. It seems to work. They care about the toys more than me anyway. So it goes.

Stray Thoughts:

• For seven dollars or less, I can get all my laundry folded and washed for me! I think that’s totally a good deal. I also realized that my bill was 3x larger than anyone else. What can I say? Style is heavy.
• Don’t worry, I’ll have Christmas cards for everyone. Isn’t Christmas in July still a thing? After watching one person try and fail recently to send a package internationally I’m not sure if it’s worth all the trouble until I have a translator that just follows me around or I become fluent. I’m not sure if any of those are happening in the near future. I am getting small knick knacks and things here and there that I will divvy up as gifts eventually. I’ll just have used them for 6 months and hope no one notices when I bequeath them as “gifts.”
• Coca-Cola seems to have cornered the market on Peru. Even the water here is distributed by them. I did plan on mentioning that earlier because lo and behold, I saw my first Pepsi truck today. Compared to the 40+ Coke ones it doesn’t seem to be but a drop in the bucket but look out. The competition is real.
• Coming up this week: Archaeological museums, a journalist in Peru guest speaker, more Spanish lessons, a farewell to the Pharma family, and much much more.

I’ve what, volunteered for a little more than a week now? Mind you, I’m no expert so I probably shouldn’t start to ramble on about my own views about volunteering when I’m admittedly just about as ignorant on the subject as I was but a week ago. Have I volunteered in the past? Sure. I plan to do keep doing so. That doesn’t make me an expert on it though. It just makes me a person that likes to spend his time to give back from time to time. But am I doing a disservice to those I’m trying to assist when I do volunteer my time and labor? I sure hope not. Though I’m not so naive to say I haven’t done that. Not intentionally of course. No one intentionally goes into a volunteering project to have the result a waste of time. That’s just how the cookie crumbles. Or can crumbles. My view on volunteering is not that it hinders more than it helps. I don’t think that. I think it has amazing potential to help and service and better the lives of countless humans and their communities. I also believe that is the potential to do more harm than good. Which is why I’m glad that at least after one week here I think I chose a program that intends and actually does manage to do more good than harm. I think a big part of how they manage to do that is that this group works with programs that are already set in place here in Peru. Or here in whatever country you end up volunteering at. I’m not going into a foreign area and telling the people “Look at me, the affluent white man, I will guide you into prosperity like Moses guided the Jews! Throw down your brooms and pick up a Starbucks, I will show you the path to righteousness and the American way. Let us embark on the back of a bald eagle and fly to a faraway land where life without WiFi is unfathomable and people have more TVs than bedrooms.” The point I’m trying to make is that you hear countless tales of a group of volunteers going off to a far away country, building the locals a house for instance, and then not even a week after they’re gone, the inhabitants of the land tear it down and use it for their own shelters, for firewood, for any list of reasons that have nothing to do with what the volunteers intended. I am not going into this area blind, I’m not creating new systems that I’m trying to forcefully incorporate into their local cultures. I’m working with people in the area, I’m working with people from the area, I’m working to assist and better those in the area but I’m doing so on their terms. Of course one needs to create and initiate and develop new ideas and new volunteering strategies. I’m not saying that’s bad, how else do new volunteer or new programs startup without that kind of thought. However, I’m just happy that this program works with organizations that are here to provide a better care and outlook and life for the people involved. I’m glad that I’m a part of established organizations that know what they’re doing and where I know my work here isn’t for naught and that when I leave I won’t have achieved nothing. We’re not here to shove our ideals down someone’s throat. We’re here to assist with things that need help and wouldn’t survive without a constant flow of volunteers. Volunteering is a beautiful thing. To see the joy on children’s faces just when I walk into a classroom is a beautiful thing. To hear from others the joy and exaltation that they provide to those they work with is a beautiful thing. To know they’re actually making a difference, albeit even temporary is a beautiful thing. Not everyone can be saved. Not everyone can be helped. Not every situation can be improved for the better. Some situations that we work with may be entirely hopeless but if we can inspire in them a little bit of hope for a little while then I’m glad that I’m devoted to doing it. So it goes.

Stray Thoughts:

• Peruvians seem to have very little facial here. I’m not sure if they shave every day or they’re still waiting to hit the final round of puberty like your’s truly. At the very least I finally feel at peace with my baby face since I’m not in a land of faux lumberjacks.
• I may have been overstating my ability when I said I was beginning to get the hang of three year old Spanish. With one of two teachers out of the class today (the one who speaks some English) and the other volunteer I work with on vacation in the Amazon, I began to feel like an alien earthling dropped onto an entirely new planet. I managed but I may need to amp up my studying just a little bit more.
• Apparently the original potato can have its origin linked back to Peru. They have 200 types of potatoes/tuber starches here. I feel by the end of this nine weeks I will have tried every type of them. They really enjoy their carbs here.
• I am still peeved that when I told a random Peruvian market vendor that I was from Alabama, he asked me “Auburn?”. Why would any country care about Auburn? Why does the US care about Auburn? No one cares about Auburn except the people that reluctantly go there because they were brainwashed to think the Crimson Tide is the enemy. They are not. They are the path. The moral of the story: He did not get my service.
• I have now eaten both guinea pig and piglet. The Last Supper painting that you’ll find in Cuzco has guinea pig/cuy as the main dish in front of Jesus. It’s a delicacy. It’s apparently cheap and plentiful and well, it’s meat. From my limited experiences, it doesn’t taste bad but the person who ate it for an entire meal did say it had a “pungent” flavor. The piglet was pretty tasty, if not on quite the fatty side. Either way, might as well enjoy the local cuisine because if I’m a picky eater then I won’t have any fun.

1. I would never survive if I had a car in Peru. What’s even more confusing is when I see people with BMW’s that look brand new and have zero scratches or dings on them. I imagine the owners have had the car for less than a single hour. I’m not entirely sure three cars are supposed to fight for two lanes but that seems to be quite the common norm here. If I had a nickel for every time I could reach out the window and physically touch the car beside me, I’d be laughing on my way to the bank right now. Accidents apparently happen every 7 minutes in Peru and I would believe even if I still haven’t seen one so far. I also have no idea how I haven’t seen an accident so far. It’s constant beeping, and close calls but people seem to get by unscathed. So far.
2. I seemed to have wrongly assumed that being by the coast meant you got rain. Instead I found out that Lima is the second largest desert city in the world behind Cairo, Egypt. Mix that with cars that don’t have to follow EPA guidelines and you get a pretty dusty, polluted city. I’m beginning to think the sun might be so strong here because they’re destroying the ozone. It makes sense. Scientifically. I think.
3. Regardless of how dry it is here, the people sure like their green. Since a good chunk of inhabitants in Lima moved down from the Andes mountains to the city, they were all a bit surprised to find it so dry and arid. I’m not sure where all the water to irrigate stuff comes from but they do have very beautiful parks here. Apparently beautification of the city at least on a natural level has been a big priority. Lots of flora and fauna and palm trees. Lot of palm trees. But even those in extreme poverty will grow a single plant if they can to remind themselves of the mountains and where they came from. It is a bit strange see a median filled with bright green grass and pretty flowers surrounded by dirt and sand on all sides but that’s just how it is.
4. Immersion does really seem to be the best tool for grasping a new language. Obviously I’m still extremely raw and incompetent in my understanding of the spanish language but at least where I’m volunteering I’m already noticing differences between me today and me just a few days ago. Is this talk that more applies to just three year olds than the general public of Peru? Yes. I’m just glad I’m becoming a more effective communicator with someone at least. Do I still know what they’re saying 75% of the time? No. Of course not. But it’s only been a few days. That I’m making progress though that I can actually notice this quickly is a good indicator that I may live in a reality where I at least am able to communicate spanish at a toddler level. That’s progress!
5. I’m never sure if people actually understand the American things they put on their car for instance. I’ve seen quite a few, or maybe ten or twenty cars with the Autobots logo from the Transformers comics/tv shows/movies. Do they know they’re supporting Optimus Prime? Do they know who Optimus Prime is? Granted, one sees the same thing in the ol USA and I have no idea why they do that either. I’m just not as hip as I used to be.
6. KFC. Peruvians must love the Colonel. A friend of mine asked me to take pictures to prove that they have McDonalds in Peru. I have no idea why he thought they wouldn’t. There are two Starbucks just on the street that I live on. But I’ve only seen one McDonalds. Yet on the ride back from the airport I wouldn’t be exaggerating when I say I saw at least 15 KFCs. Those eleven herb and spices must really get the peruvian tongues salivating.
7. To us naive Americans. Peru may seem like a country in disarray. Lots of shanties line the hills of Lima, people walk around in their mismatched outfits, the poor scour through trash for things to recycle. Is some of it sad to see? Of course. Do I think “Man, these poor people.”? That happens too. Except it’s all about perspective. Not me personally but another couple of volunteers I live with talked to a sister (nun) at their workplace. She is originally from Ireland and she told them how she visited Peru for mission work and every time she stayed longer and longer. Now? She’s a permanent resident. Why? Because of the Peruvian spirit. She says that they inspire her. Where I work? 20 years ago. It was desert, it was dirt, it was nothing. Now it has a school for underprivileged children, it has a clinic to assist with pre and post natal care, it has homes, it has shops, it has paved roads. The city is growing. The city is evolving. To my eyes it might look backwards, or behind. But to someone who’s actually seen it grow it’s amazing. It gave a new perspective and also made me think “Wow, maybe you shouldn’t be so judgemental since you don’t know how this place works.” Peru has been full of corrupt government for years, it’s finally starting to get more democratic and not run by dictators within the last 20-25 years. Progress is being made and just because it’s not at the American level doesn’t mean it should be scoffed at.
8. Dogs. So many stray dogs. They might as well have Sarah McLachlan singing over images of Lima. Haven’t seen a pug yet but I know it’s just a matter of time. It also went from “Oh look, what a cute dog” to “Oh, what a mangy dog that is riddled with fleas and worms and everything else” real fast. I did see one vet’s office one time but compare that to the twenty KFC’s I also saw. It’s a sad state but the dogs do seem happy at least. Though I have no way of actually inferring dogs emotions so I may be a bit off on my assessment. Really though, soooo many dogs. So it goes.

That’s not true. Okay, maybe it is trIue. I didn’t expect Spanish to be easy. So maybe it’s entirely what I expected. I go about my day knowing maybe 2 or 3 words said in every single conversation I hear. Where I’m lucky though? I work with three year olds. The beauty of three year olds is that they talk. They talk a lot. However, they seem to be satisfied that the majority of their conversations with me just end up with me saying Si. Of course I vary it, sometimes I say Hmm…Si. Sometimes I say, Ah yes si si! Other times, But of course si! It satisfies them. I’m sure what they’re asking is not a yes or no question. I’m sure that probably half of what they ask isn’t a question period. They sure do love white skin though. I’d heard that people go to parts off the beaten path in Africa, or maybe an asian country and you stand out for the color of your skin but I suppose I wrongly assumed that that wouldn’t happen in South America. Actually for all I know they aren’t enamored with my white skin at all but are trying to tell me something important but I can’t tell because I don’t speak the language. Yet. I’m getting there. I’m improving every day. That’s not the point. I started my actual volunteer assignment yesterday, Inabif. It’s essentially a government sponsored day care, semi-school, & tutoring center. I worked with three years old then and I was told I’d be working with 5 years old today. When I say today, I mean today and for the duration of my stay in Peru. Instead I’m back with three years olds. Not complaining. I’m with another dude that’s been here 5 or 6 weeks and the kids know him, they like him, and he speaks more spanish than me. It’s going pretty great. I’ve never felt as loved as I do then by random three year olds who don’t even speak my language. They sure love hugs. Or just holding hands, or holding arms, or holding legs. It’s fun. It’s also fun when you’re like the cool uncle who the kids get to mess around with. I don’t know how that goes or how it’ll continue but the teacher does most of the work, while I seem to try to create some order while also letting the kids have fun. These are kids that maybe can’t afford to go to schools where they have to pay. Even public schools require money that some of these children’s parents can’t afford. A lot of children here only eat when they’re fed breakfast and lunch at the center. Come the weekend? No food until Monday. I feel it’s the least I can do is to make them smile even if it’s only because I’m white or wear a watch.

Speaking of watches…how about downtown Lima? I never said I was a master of the segway. I should say some of my blog posts are going to be more deep introspections and others? Just talking about my day. Variety is the spice of life or so they say. Anyway! Downtown Lima. For one, I just want to say it’s always nice to go to places that actually have history that dates back more than 200 years or so like the ol’ US of A. I’m also glad I actually have a camera. One day I’ll connect it to the computer and start to utilize some photojournalism kinda magic. But yeah, Lima is a pretty cool city. It’s got lots of churches, we went through catacombs and got to see the bones of the poor folks. 25,000 buried under one of the churches we went to. Apparently there was a big climate conference? Al Gore was here allegedly. Someone important was here if they just are driving around in an Alfa Romeo. Still unsure if it makes you feel safe to see cops everywhere or less safe. In theory, one should feel safer, but in reality a cop with a gun that strongly resembles an AK-47 doesn’t fill me with confidence either.

Wow though. I seem to have written so much and said so little. That’ll probably be the template for most of the things I say on here though. I’ll go into more detail about volunteer placements later, my views on my own and the others, I’ll dig deeper into my experiences and it’ll be a wonderful journey that I look forward to whomever is reading this accompanying me on. So far I’m glad I’m here and I think that’s the most important thing. So it goes.

I’ll admit, I am ecstatic that I have luggage. It was a very anxious experience having to wait almost an hour in an airport where I didn’t speak the language to talk to someone about luggage that I believed I may never see again. I got it though. I got it, I have actual clothes, and that’s amazing. However, it’s hard to feel too good about having luggage. Today is a holy day in Catholicism; thus, a national holiday in Peru. Immaculate Conception Day (regarding the birth of Mary, not the birth of Christ (common mistake)). With many things closed, we weren’t able to do our regularly scheduled volunteer activities. Of which this would be day numero uno! So instead of working with kids, I was able to partake in home visits to a few families of which the people there are extremely elderly, extremely well, unwell, and extremely poor. These are people in extreme poverty. We’re talking 1$ a day for a family of four. We visited four homes, only being able to go into two as one couple wasn’t home and the other didn’t want us strange foreigners to come inside. We accompanied a nurse who did home check ups to people who were unable to visit the church sponsored care. One dollar is obviously extremely small but you wouldn’t know it from the attitude of these people. Or maybe you would. We had a woman apologize us to us because she felt bad that didn’t have enough chairs for us to speak. This is a woman who lived in a house the size of my kitchen at home, who didn’t have running water, electricity, or a bathroom. Who hoarded garbage that took up half her living space, and had a stray dog mothering a litter of puppies beside her home. Then we end up at the house of a man who’s had a stroke. A stroke that happened 14 years ago. A stroke that required a shunt in his brain that needs to be changed every 4 years. A shunt that hasn’t been changed in 14 years. And yet, this fella who has physical spasms from his stroke, shows off his garden, gets himself out of a chair to show us an old photo album of his life, and tells us a story of him climbing some giant peak on a beach in Peru. A man who hugged and kissed all of us when we leave, when we leave to go back to a place in a van that has water, food, electricity, internet, air conditioning, all these things that he has zero of and he’s looking happier than all of us put together. It’s alarming to see the conditions that these people live in, but it’s even more alarming to see their attitudes. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m just saying, I, like many people can read statistics all day long about poverty levels and low income housing and this and that but until you see it up close can you even come close to comprehending it. And here I am, upset that I have to wear the same pair of shorts three days in a row and had to buy a pair of underwear. That here I am, a guy that in one suitcase probably has more than this guy has had in the last 10 years of his life and I’m the one complaining? I’m the one pissed off at an airline? It’s a humbling experience. It’s a different experience. It’s an emotional one. It’s also just like wow, I bitch and moan about little things that happen in my life that maybe affect my day for five or ten minutes, these people live in worlds that we could never even imagine ourselves in and they do it with a smile on their face. Would they like a better life? Of course, they wouldn’t choose this in an ideal world. But they make the most of it. They make the most of their surroundings. They make the most of our life. I hope I can start to do the same. So it goes.

As I sit here in the airport, still an hour until I board my first of 3(!) flights…well, I’m not entirely sure how to feel! I’m excited of course. I sure hope this better be exciting. I think I’d have to try extremely hard to not find this adventure a thrill. But when I say leaving is weird obviously I’m not talking about how strange it is to sit in a flying contraption and zip around the world. I get it, the Wright Brothers were geniuses. What I’m trying to say is that I think it’s impossible for the brain, at least at this moment, to comprehend how long I’ll actually be gone for. Do I know I’m headed to Peru today? Yes. But can I actually comprehend that I won’t see my parents who dropped me off until next summer? Can I comprehend that best friends I hung out with this week, this month, this year, I won’t be seeing them for months? I don’t know. I don’t think I can. Except I’m still excited. I’m going to miss people. I’m going to miss animals. I’m going to miss USA, USA, USA. Yet I think I’m ready. I hope I’m ready. A little too late to back out now nor do I have any desire to do so. I’m excited. I’m pumped. I just know this is gonna be an interesting journey. Hopefully this blog will help me wrap my head around it.  So it goes.

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