Finally, a van from heaven stopped and we piled in. Somehow, the other men in the van were traveling to Lima as well so we bypassed the second leg of the journey and were dropped directly at the House Project by the end of the night. An episode of slight frustration with the Peruvian sense of time, but it all worked out. All in all, our time with Gracile, Juan, and Maria was extraordinary and their vibrant passion made them easy to connect with. When asked what he misses most about the United States, what was Juan's answer? Lamb. ;P
Friday, August 16, 2013
Smashing Butter
This past Sunday after our presentations at the Bioferia we began our journey to Gracile's town about three hours outside of Lima. Gracile and Juan (her MESA love interest) are both alumni and currently live in various towns - Marachanca, Ayas, Lima, Arequipa - "migrants" as Juan puts it. We curved our way through winding roads and ascended to the town of Marachanca, a small pueblo without electricity and in which only a few men actually live (the rest of their families live in the towns below where there are schools and light) to work their chacras. In Marachanca, we picked up trash, visited a garden with a collection of cacti from the region, helped to rid the soil of grass after being hoe'd (?) by two huge bulls, and ate scrumptious fresh food prepared by Gracile's mother Maria. She is awesome - lively, optimistic and bouncing with energy all the time. We munched on fresh plums, homemade peach jam, bread from Los Siete Enanos in Lima, tamales that we assembled, and tons of fresh vegetables during our three days with the family. For the final lunch, we decided to take charge. On the tiny, crowded stove we prepared brussel sprouts, a sweet gingery quinoa salad, quinoa patties, and a selection of other goodies. Earlier in the day, we had joined with a man named Gustavo (who practices biodynamic agriculture) to prune his brussel sprouts and kill the worms that are plaguing his crop right now. Who knows how many worms we ingested with our lunch...... In Ayas, we also played volleyball and other sports with the community and joined together in a game of trivia about the town, followed by a reward of picarrones (donut-like treats made of sweet potato, squash, and yucca that are dipped in a syrupy substance) for all. Our last day in Ayas we spent an hour in the factory of Vacas Valices, Gracile's dairy company, squishing the butter to get the water out. The bus to take us to Maracancha, where we were to get a car to take us to another town and then to Lima, was supposed to arrive between 5 and 6. It ended up showing up at the factory around 6:15, only to tell us that he planned to pick up a load of alfafa at the top of the mountain and return within the hour. Of course, in Peru time this translates to about three hours....minimum. So, slightly frustrated, we ended up descending the mountain on foot as the sun set and we stumbled down rocky paths aided by a few headlights and Juan's phone's flashlight in my case. Finally, we reached the base of the mountain and sat as huge trucks passed, followed closely by zippy cars darting past them on tight, curvy roads. We waited.....and waited.....and waited..... In Peru, there is no such thing as timeliness.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
The Circle is Complete
Just arrived back in Lima today, after my third 20+ hour bus ride. This one was rough, winding through narrow roads of the Andes for the whole first half of the trip. But I made it, and have left behind cross-country bus trips for at least a few years.
Cusco was nice, a time to both rest and to frantically navigate the hidden artisan markets throughout the town. I had some nice conversations with vendors. One woman went into a several minute long recitation of the prayer I should say when I get on the bus, and said she would think of me as I traveled. Another man wondered where I learned Spanish, inquired into what I am studying, and shared his over 7,000 paintings with me. Although it was high tourist season and therefore impossible to escape the crowds of westerners, I managed to find some markets hidden within Cusco's alleys, places where I was the only white face. After spending a month in tiny Lamud, Cusco was a bit of a culture shock, with fancy hotels, organic restaurants, and camera-bearing tourists everywhere. Certain sites inspired memories of my time in Cusco almost four years ago, a Cusco that was similar but certainly seems to have exploded recently. I had my first 'american' meal in almost a month, a sandwich by the name of the 'campesino' with goat cheese, caramelized onions, quinoa hummus, sundried tomatoes, and zuchinni. It was delicious, perfect for my first real meal in a few days (because of my shaky stomach) and well worth the hefty price tag in soles (which is still rather inexpensive in dollars). Cusco was filled with beautiful sunshine and the hostel beds felt like those of a 5 star hotel, but the multitudes of people and the chaos of the tourist industry were overwhelming at times. Now, I am back in Lima, resting at the House Project and trying to organize some of my belongings, most of which are in need of a long bath.
I'm curious what Dona Marina and the boys are up to; their uncle friended me today so I hope to maintain some contact! Although Lamud was a bit slow at times for me and it would have been difficult to spend more time away from my family, I miss my host family and wish there was a simple way to bring my two families together. I would much rather be in Lamud though! Lima is grey grey grey..... and so many people, cars, and homes extending forever beyond the city.
Spending time in Cusco again ignited memories of my past trip to Peru and prompted me to reconsider the reactions I had as a sophomore in high school, compared to those I have had this trip, for a much more extended, in-depth experience of the country. Four years ago, I returned to the US with a part of me still in Peru, drawn to the beauty of the highlands and the sense of community. Everyone seemed so happy, able to appreciate the simple parts of every day. The two weeks prompted me to reconsider my notions of wealth, illuminating the riches of the simplicity of Peruvian life. While the same reactions hold - I am drawn to the close-knit community of towns like Lamud, the breathtaking natural beauty of the country, and the ability of the people to laugh and enjoy life despite their hardships - six weeks in Peru has also exposed me to the injustices and difficulties with the culture here. Machismo and domestic abuse is rampant, and according to a peace corps volunteer we met, national self esteem is extremely low. In certain parts of the country, excessive pesticide and fertilizer use is the norm, and farmers are just beginning to realize the health affects. Unfortunately, the education process is lacking, and even when farmers understand the consequences, the process of transitioning to organic agriculture can be costly and far too long. Back to machismo --- even at our few meetings of the Club de Madres in Lamud (the first of which we were half asleep listening to only Spanish), we were able to notice the disparity between the voices of men and women. The woman leading the meeting principally addressed the men (most of which were there representing their wives anyways) who sat in a line on one side of the room. Two of the men occupy positions on the board of the Club, and one is crucial for his connection to the police (according to the mothers we spoke with) but the dynamics were provocative. The woman, for the most part, kept quiet, whispering amongst themselves and listening rather than inserting their opinions. Another interesting discovery we learned through Maria was that their membership problems stem from a lack of incentive that is fostered through 'welfare' policies of the government. Because all women with children in school receive monthly checks from the government, Maria told us that many women have no motivation to work or achieve more. Besides the lack of incentive, women are often discouraged from joining the mother's club by their husbands, who believe their wives should remain in the household and under their control. The final dilemna that captured my attention was the issue of migration within Peru. Seeing both sides of the phenomenon - the age disbalance within Lamud and the endless cliffs of precarious wooden shacks outside Lima - completed a picture that most Peruvians only see one side of. The women we interviewed in Lamud testified to the fact that most youth leave the town after completing school, drawn by the appeal and opportunities of the city. But Lima is far from perfect, lacking the 'tranquility' that characterizes Lamud and especially on the outskirts, dangerous and scarce of basic infrastructure. Dona Marina's son lives in Chiclayo, where he is studying to hopefully become a police officer, and they have not seen him in at least two years. It seems that just about everyone in Lamud had family living elsewhere, whether Lima, Chiclayo or a different city. How to reconcile dreams and expectations with reality is a struggle that intrigues me. Thinking about migration, Peru doesn't seem so different from parts of the US. When I spent time in a small town in Montana senior year of high school, many of the kids came from families who had lived in the town generation after generation. But urban migration is not unique to Peru, and many of the youth I met were products of the appeal of the city, dreaming of leaving their small towns behind for a brighter future. The reality? I don't know....I wonder. Dona Marina said that sometimes, people return to Lamud after living away for a while, to finish their years in the peace and tranquility of the country. Driving from Chachapoyas to Lima, passing tiny isolated town after town, perched in peaks of the Andes, their survival throughout the years amazes me. Some of the towns aren't even towns, a mere two or three homes dispersed across the mountain side. How to reach these people, to foster opportunities within their home environments and encourage local development, is a question that remains largely unexplored. The past six weeks have filled me with bitter realizations, exciting possibilities, and doubts. The one thing I wish I had more time for was to hear the voices of Peru - what do the people want? When we asked about growth and development during our interviews, the responses were often vague; I'm not sure everyone understood the broad picture we were attempting to explore. Do Pablo and Pedro want the life they see through their tiny TV screen? Do some youth recognize the value in the traditional Peruvian lifestyle, or is it clouded through images of Western grandeur? When we speak of development, what exactly are we speaking of?
Cusco was nice, a time to both rest and to frantically navigate the hidden artisan markets throughout the town. I had some nice conversations with vendors. One woman went into a several minute long recitation of the prayer I should say when I get on the bus, and said she would think of me as I traveled. Another man wondered where I learned Spanish, inquired into what I am studying, and shared his over 7,000 paintings with me. Although it was high tourist season and therefore impossible to escape the crowds of westerners, I managed to find some markets hidden within Cusco's alleys, places where I was the only white face. After spending a month in tiny Lamud, Cusco was a bit of a culture shock, with fancy hotels, organic restaurants, and camera-bearing tourists everywhere. Certain sites inspired memories of my time in Cusco almost four years ago, a Cusco that was similar but certainly seems to have exploded recently. I had my first 'american' meal in almost a month, a sandwich by the name of the 'campesino' with goat cheese, caramelized onions, quinoa hummus, sundried tomatoes, and zuchinni. It was delicious, perfect for my first real meal in a few days (because of my shaky stomach) and well worth the hefty price tag in soles (which is still rather inexpensive in dollars). Cusco was filled with beautiful sunshine and the hostel beds felt like those of a 5 star hotel, but the multitudes of people and the chaos of the tourist industry were overwhelming at times. Now, I am back in Lima, resting at the House Project and trying to organize some of my belongings, most of which are in need of a long bath.
I'm curious what Dona Marina and the boys are up to; their uncle friended me today so I hope to maintain some contact! Although Lamud was a bit slow at times for me and it would have been difficult to spend more time away from my family, I miss my host family and wish there was a simple way to bring my two families together. I would much rather be in Lamud though! Lima is grey grey grey..... and so many people, cars, and homes extending forever beyond the city.
Spending time in Cusco again ignited memories of my past trip to Peru and prompted me to reconsider the reactions I had as a sophomore in high school, compared to those I have had this trip, for a much more extended, in-depth experience of the country. Four years ago, I returned to the US with a part of me still in Peru, drawn to the beauty of the highlands and the sense of community. Everyone seemed so happy, able to appreciate the simple parts of every day. The two weeks prompted me to reconsider my notions of wealth, illuminating the riches of the simplicity of Peruvian life. While the same reactions hold - I am drawn to the close-knit community of towns like Lamud, the breathtaking natural beauty of the country, and the ability of the people to laugh and enjoy life despite their hardships - six weeks in Peru has also exposed me to the injustices and difficulties with the culture here. Machismo and domestic abuse is rampant, and according to a peace corps volunteer we met, national self esteem is extremely low. In certain parts of the country, excessive pesticide and fertilizer use is the norm, and farmers are just beginning to realize the health affects. Unfortunately, the education process is lacking, and even when farmers understand the consequences, the process of transitioning to organic agriculture can be costly and far too long. Back to machismo --- even at our few meetings of the Club de Madres in Lamud (the first of which we were half asleep listening to only Spanish), we were able to notice the disparity between the voices of men and women. The woman leading the meeting principally addressed the men (most of which were there representing their wives anyways) who sat in a line on one side of the room. Two of the men occupy positions on the board of the Club, and one is crucial for his connection to the police (according to the mothers we spoke with) but the dynamics were provocative. The woman, for the most part, kept quiet, whispering amongst themselves and listening rather than inserting their opinions. Another interesting discovery we learned through Maria was that their membership problems stem from a lack of incentive that is fostered through 'welfare' policies of the government. Because all women with children in school receive monthly checks from the government, Maria told us that many women have no motivation to work or achieve more. Besides the lack of incentive, women are often discouraged from joining the mother's club by their husbands, who believe their wives should remain in the household and under their control. The final dilemna that captured my attention was the issue of migration within Peru. Seeing both sides of the phenomenon - the age disbalance within Lamud and the endless cliffs of precarious wooden shacks outside Lima - completed a picture that most Peruvians only see one side of. The women we interviewed in Lamud testified to the fact that most youth leave the town after completing school, drawn by the appeal and opportunities of the city. But Lima is far from perfect, lacking the 'tranquility' that characterizes Lamud and especially on the outskirts, dangerous and scarce of basic infrastructure. Dona Marina's son lives in Chiclayo, where he is studying to hopefully become a police officer, and they have not seen him in at least two years. It seems that just about everyone in Lamud had family living elsewhere, whether Lima, Chiclayo or a different city. How to reconcile dreams and expectations with reality is a struggle that intrigues me. Thinking about migration, Peru doesn't seem so different from parts of the US. When I spent time in a small town in Montana senior year of high school, many of the kids came from families who had lived in the town generation after generation. But urban migration is not unique to Peru, and many of the youth I met were products of the appeal of the city, dreaming of leaving their small towns behind for a brighter future. The reality? I don't know....I wonder. Dona Marina said that sometimes, people return to Lamud after living away for a while, to finish their years in the peace and tranquility of the country. Driving from Chachapoyas to Lima, passing tiny isolated town after town, perched in peaks of the Andes, their survival throughout the years amazes me. Some of the towns aren't even towns, a mere two or three homes dispersed across the mountain side. How to reach these people, to foster opportunities within their home environments and encourage local development, is a question that remains largely unexplored. The past six weeks have filled me with bitter realizations, exciting possibilities, and doubts. The one thing I wish I had more time for was to hear the voices of Peru - what do the people want? When we asked about growth and development during our interviews, the responses were often vague; I'm not sure everyone understood the broad picture we were attempting to explore. Do Pablo and Pedro want the life they see through their tiny TV screen? Do some youth recognize the value in the traditional Peruvian lifestyle, or is it clouded through images of Western grandeur? When we speak of development, what exactly are we speaking of?
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Glimpses of the past few weeks
Here are some photo updates :) first is of Jaclyn Pedro and myself, second of the Independence Day celebrations, third of the Pagua de la Tierra offering, fourth of me and my brothers, fifth of our 'American' dinner with peace corps friends, sixth of the family and Edmundo at his birthday party, and seventh of Maria's family horse overlooking Lamud.
The Next Steps
A little over 48 hours ago, Jaclyn and I were bidding farewell to our families in Lamud and jumping on a convi to take us to Chachapoyas where we would board the bus back to Lima. My last night in Lamud I sat in the chair deemed my sitting place with the boys, Dona Marina, and a woman visiting for the Pagua celebration. They recited all the English words they knew, and gave me phrase after phrase to translate from castellano. The woman and Pedro compiled a list of all the words - spellings and pronunciations - to practice on their own. The next morning, my stomach was feeling well enough to drink some tea and eat a piece of bread, and Dona Marina packed me with a bounty of pan integral, bananas, and apples. Pedro asked his mother why she was crying the night before, and she answered because I was leaving. She said it will be difficult to have the room empty again, especially when the boys are at school and she is the only one at home. I promised them I would return, although not as soon as Dona Marina told Pablo I would (by next year she said, with my mom), to prevent him from crying. At some point I will be back....I can't stay when that will be, but sometime.
The bus ride back to Lima was better than last time, with silent audio for the movies once it got late and postponement of bingo until the end of the journey. Before I fell asleep, I scribbled something, my only note from the ride, into my journal - 'There's something very alive about these mountains, especially at dusk as your presence slowly shrinks and their grandeur is illuminated. Their veins, their peaks, the clouds that fall below them. The mountains are a part of this place.' Moving through the Andes, I felt slightly connected to home, to the green expanses of the Adirondacks by Lake George and Dartmouth, however different the settings.
We arrived a bit late in Lima, met a smiling Tete at the station, and spent a few hours at Rosi's house. First warm shower in almost a month!! It was WONDERFUL. Cutting it a bit close, we made our flight, arrived in Cusco and reunited with Savannah and Margaret at the hostel. We shared stories, glimpsed at photos, and hugged over coca tea. It's odd to be back in Cusco, both because of the memories from my high school trip and the culture shock after being in tiny remote Lamud. Hotel after fancy hotel, 'vegetarian' restaurants abound, and the sounds of English everywhere. It is a beautiful city, but light years away from the lifestyle of Lamud. Today I think I will take it easy, trying to get some fuel into my body and rehydrate after being sick. The rest of the crew is off to Macchu Picchu, and I will see them again tomorrow night. Ciao!
The bus ride back to Lima was better than last time, with silent audio for the movies once it got late and postponement of bingo until the end of the journey. Before I fell asleep, I scribbled something, my only note from the ride, into my journal - 'There's something very alive about these mountains, especially at dusk as your presence slowly shrinks and their grandeur is illuminated. Their veins, their peaks, the clouds that fall below them. The mountains are a part of this place.' Moving through the Andes, I felt slightly connected to home, to the green expanses of the Adirondacks by Lake George and Dartmouth, however different the settings.
We arrived a bit late in Lima, met a smiling Tete at the station, and spent a few hours at Rosi's house. First warm shower in almost a month!! It was WONDERFUL. Cutting it a bit close, we made our flight, arrived in Cusco and reunited with Savannah and Margaret at the hostel. We shared stories, glimpsed at photos, and hugged over coca tea. It's odd to be back in Cusco, both because of the memories from my high school trip and the culture shock after being in tiny remote Lamud. Hotel after fancy hotel, 'vegetarian' restaurants abound, and the sounds of English everywhere. It is a beautiful city, but light years away from the lifestyle of Lamud. Today I think I will take it easy, trying to get some fuel into my body and rehydrate after being sick. The rest of the crew is off to Macchu Picchu, and I will see them again tomorrow night. Ciao!
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Farewell Cold Showers
August 3 -
This morning was my last cold shower, guarded by Pablo and Pedro in the bathroom of the aunt's house since workers are currently reconstructing the space. Showers definitely feel special here, but I can't say that I will miss the piercing water. Last night was Maria's birthday celebration with a live band (accordian and drums) but I was so tired for some reason, so wasn't as active a dancer as last time. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting in the grass with a bunch of ladies and their kids, resting after a large lunch cooked outdoors. My internal clock won't allow me to sit for as long as they can with a full stomach, so I decided to begin this post.
I was told that I have a 'virgin face' today and further that I should wear a white dress covered with flowers to frollic around. Not sure exactly what that means.... The women have been asking me when I will come back; I don't think they realize how far the US really is and how expensive plane tickets are. But they are waiting on the return of myself and my mom..... :) What else have we done this last week? Hmmmm, Jaclyn and I took another really long beautiful walk that I will miss, helped out with the thursday feria, harvested corn in Dona Marina's garden, finished up interviews, and shared our observations and visions for the Mother's Club. Since my last post we also celebrated Peru's independence day, with a flag raising, parade of students and anyone involved with the municipality, and night program featuring dances and a lantern display around town.
More than anything I will miss the times alone with Pablo, Pedro and Dona Marina. I'm not sure I could take a lifetime of younger brothers, but the month with two more siblings has been one I will not forget. I wish I could bring them back to the US to welcome them into my home, before they are grown and start acting like teenage boys. Dona Marina always says, 'me da risa la Maya,' meaning I make her laugh. Although sometimes I only understand part of what she is telling me, and I've struggled to comfort her in Spanish when she has begun crying as she told me about her past struggles with her husband, I have found Dona Marina the most welcoming and easy to talk to woman of all that I have met in Peru.
August 4 -
Today, our final day in Lamud, was the Pagua de la Tierra celebration, expressing thanks to Pachamama or mother earth. Unfortunately, I have managed to stay basically healthy the entire stay in Lamud, yet the very last day my stomach gave way. I don't know if it was the water or the excessive use of oil in the soup yesterday, or what it was exactly, but I have felt horrible and on the verge all day today. It was difficult rejecting the drinks and food that I was offered all afternoon, and I had to remove myself from the crowd of Peruvians during lunch, but the ceremony was still beautiful. The hike up to Vulcon was treacherous; I was drenched in sweat by the end and my stomach churning. A map of Peruvian bearing seeds and crops from all across the country was laid on the ground and a priest led a service uniting religion with ecology and the land. I wish I could have been more present today, but what are you gonna do. I just hope my stomach is feeling better tomorrow morning for the 21 hour bus ride back to Lima.....
This morning was my last cold shower, guarded by Pablo and Pedro in the bathroom of the aunt's house since workers are currently reconstructing the space. Showers definitely feel special here, but I can't say that I will miss the piercing water. Last night was Maria's birthday celebration with a live band (accordian and drums) but I was so tired for some reason, so wasn't as active a dancer as last time. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting in the grass with a bunch of ladies and their kids, resting after a large lunch cooked outdoors. My internal clock won't allow me to sit for as long as they can with a full stomach, so I decided to begin this post.
I was told that I have a 'virgin face' today and further that I should wear a white dress covered with flowers to frollic around. Not sure exactly what that means.... The women have been asking me when I will come back; I don't think they realize how far the US really is and how expensive plane tickets are. But they are waiting on the return of myself and my mom..... :) What else have we done this last week? Hmmmm, Jaclyn and I took another really long beautiful walk that I will miss, helped out with the thursday feria, harvested corn in Dona Marina's garden, finished up interviews, and shared our observations and visions for the Mother's Club. Since my last post we also celebrated Peru's independence day, with a flag raising, parade of students and anyone involved with the municipality, and night program featuring dances and a lantern display around town.
More than anything I will miss the times alone with Pablo, Pedro and Dona Marina. I'm not sure I could take a lifetime of younger brothers, but the month with two more siblings has been one I will not forget. I wish I could bring them back to the US to welcome them into my home, before they are grown and start acting like teenage boys. Dona Marina always says, 'me da risa la Maya,' meaning I make her laugh. Although sometimes I only understand part of what she is telling me, and I've struggled to comfort her in Spanish when she has begun crying as she told me about her past struggles with her husband, I have found Dona Marina the most welcoming and easy to talk to woman of all that I have met in Peru.
August 4 -
Today, our final day in Lamud, was the Pagua de la Tierra celebration, expressing thanks to Pachamama or mother earth. Unfortunately, I have managed to stay basically healthy the entire stay in Lamud, yet the very last day my stomach gave way. I don't know if it was the water or the excessive use of oil in the soup yesterday, or what it was exactly, but I have felt horrible and on the verge all day today. It was difficult rejecting the drinks and food that I was offered all afternoon, and I had to remove myself from the crowd of Peruvians during lunch, but the ceremony was still beautiful. The hike up to Vulcon was treacherous; I was drenched in sweat by the end and my stomach churning. A map of Peruvian bearing seeds and crops from all across the country was laid on the ground and a priest led a service uniting religion with ecology and the land. I wish I could have been more present today, but what are you gonna do. I just hope my stomach is feeling better tomorrow morning for the 21 hour bus ride back to Lima.....
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Partying with the Peruvians
Friday night was wild - our first Peruvian birthday celebration. A four course dinner dispersed between bouts of dancing, singing, and other quirky traditions. All throughout the night, a bottle of beer with its accompanying cup passed between the hands of the guests; each took their turn, first pouring, then passing the bottle, toasting salud, drinking, and shaking what remained onto the floor. Jaclyn and I both attribute our current sickness and my complete lack of a voice to the ritual. The food began with some type of milky, sugary, egg-whitey, alcoholicy drink and cookies to compliment Edmundo (the birthday boy)'s toast. Later were chicken sandwiches and coffee, and for the main course, ensalada russa, potatoes, and some large slabs of meet. Of course, no party would be complete without the chicha, which was passed around with a shared cup later on. We did our fair share of dancing, learning typical peruvian steps from the man deemed 'dance teacher' by his friends, circling around Edmundo and his rotating partners, or passing under the arm towers of all the others on the floor. Jaclyn and I asked Edmundo's 83 year old father for a dance, which he led with an aggressive youthfulness. We even sang happy birthday in English, during which all the women at the party took turns dancing with the birthday boy, followed by every guest lining up to hug and wish him a feliz cumpleaños. The scene was at times reminiscent of a middle school dance, with everyone sitting on benches and chairs that lined the walls between dances. One song would end, everyone would sit, and within two seconds another song (that often sounded exactly like the one before) would start and people would pull each other up to dance again. The sight of food was always a welcome sign of rest as everyone would return to their spots against the walls and quietly eat. By the end of the night, the plethera of food and drinks, plus the ridiculous amount of beans I consumed at lunch, had my stomach gurgling to the beats of the music. Around 2, Doña Marina, Pablo, a sleep-walking Pedro and I made our way back home. A late night in Lamud.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
When it rains
It puts a damper on things. For one, we can't really work out in the fields. Two, our few clothes are dampened and a layer of mud is added to everything. And three, I'm convinced that last night's flea bites (which I have avoided until this point) are a result of the flea wanting to escape the rain. The sky was overcast all day yesterday, and the rain really started as Jaclyn and I walked back from the arracacha field towards the huerto to retrieve the keys from Dona Marina. By the time we made it to the huerto, we were soaked. Dona Marina, Maria Dolores, and Edita had just arrived in time to find cover before the rain. They found our drenched selves rather funny, which I suppose we were. We huddled under the small tin roof, safe from the downpour, sharing a laugh and common in our inability to do anything at all. When Dona Marina realized that she had lost the dog, we ventured out into the streets, which had become small rivers. Not the best day to wear sandals and socks I guess....
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