tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3609262525802130532024-03-12T19:45:16.969-05:00Lady in LimaIn March 2009, I landed in Munich, Germany. During a month long German language program I met a Peruvian boy. One year and a half later, I followed him to Lima. These are my expat adventures.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-59116131947399325342012-12-02T18:55:00.002-06:002012-12-02T18:55:31.414-06:00One Way TicketI came to Peru with the assumption that I would be here until Alvaro finished law school. I had planned for about two years in Lima, but all along knew that I could go home whenever I wanted. Now that he has finally finished school, my return to the US is imminent.<br />
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I hadn't given much thought to my return until the last few weeks as I began arranging things at work. Now I'm looking for a one way plane ticket. I'm selling all of my furniture. I'm looking into closing my accounts. I'm reducing my life to suitcases. When did this happen?<br />
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Upon a quick calculation, I'll be returning to the States in roughly 80 days. After nearly 760 days in Peru, I'm left with 80 more.<br />
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I'm a mix of emotions, both good and bad. Both happy and relieved, but also sad and nostalgic.<br />
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I'm closing my life in Lima. It's slowly coming to an end and in just 80 short days I'm on a way one flight to Nashville.<br />
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Where has all the time gone?Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-22592138284230064482012-11-05T17:38:00.002-06:002012-11-05T17:40:36.169-06:00Two YearsToday marks two years since my arrival in Peru. This milestone snuck up on me yesterday at church when the bulletin read "November 4, 2012," I realized how close I was to the two year mark.<br />
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When I celebrated my first year in Peru, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Mostly in shock that I had actually made it that long. Between the visa troubles, bad job, culture shock and language issues, that first year was rough. Most of the time I was waiting for someone to tell me, "Meghan, it's ok. You can go home." And I would have hopped on the first plane back to Nashville.<br />
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Two years is different. Two years <i>feels</i> like a long time. 24 months. 730 days. Two years is half of the time I spent in college. At just 24, two years is 8% of my life. Considering 75% of my life consisted of living under my parent's roof, I'd say that's pretty impressive.<br />
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This milestone is also bittersweet- I know that I won't be celebrating three years in Peru. In just about three and a half months, I will be making my way back to Nashville to start the next phase of my life. I'm leaving because I can not do what I want to do in Peru. If I could, I would stay.<br />
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That statement: <b>If I could, I would stay</b>, makes me proud. The fact that I have lived in Peru for two years now, is easily my greatest accomplishment. I am unabashedly proud that I stuck it out, that I adapted and most importantly- that I came to <i>like it</i>.<br />
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Peru has been my home for the past two years. When I stood in the Nashville airport two years ago, I could have never imagined what this move would be like. That day, I was embarking on this great adventure, without any real clue as to how hard it would be. That day, I was moving to Peru with an openended return date and instead I decided to stick around for a couple of years.<br />
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Thanks for having me, Lima. <i>Salud!</i>Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-14819883705057787062012-10-12T10:39:00.000-05:002012-10-12T10:39:00.735-05:00My vote's in!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Four years ago, I was planning for my big study abroad trip. Originally, I had planned to go for a full calendar year and one of the most exciting parts of that was being able to vote absentee. For a variety of reasons, I didn't leave that fall and unfortunately, couldn't vote absentee in the 2008 election. My disappointment quickly turned to elation when my university was chosen to host one of the Presidential debates that year. Through a series of fortunate events, I was lucky enough to be one of the volunteers who was granted access to the debate hall and I was able to watch the debate live. In one of those right place and the right time moments, I also met then Presidential Candidate Barack Obama. I'll take that over an absentee ballot any day.<br />
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This time around, I have no opportunity to vote except by absentee ballot. I've always been fascinated by the idea of voting absentee. By its very nature, an absentee ballot means that you are "absent" from your home, whether you are in another state or another country. I think there is something poetic and patriotic about choosing to vote and having your voice heard even if in that moment your "home" is away from home.<br />
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Regardless of my political affiliation, I have always believed it's crucial to vote. I feel fortunate to live in a country where I can place my vote, I know this isn't true in every country. I also know that people- first men and then women- fought very hard to be able to place their vote and I want to honor that. Even though I'm thousands of miles away from my home polling station, I still placed my vote.<br />
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Yesterday, I took a bus to the US Embassy and proudly placed my ballot in their voting box. The next step is for it to be sent to the States where it will then be sent to Nashville, Tennessee. On November 6th, I'll be watching the poll results and know that even from Lima, one of those numbers is me.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-49775232910308679522012-10-10T10:25:00.003-05:002012-10-10T10:25:21.550-05:00Mountains in HuarazOne weekend, rumors began to spread about the Peruvian government giving everyone a four day weekend. This unexpected holiday was a way to encourage Limeans to leave the city to make room for the South America-Arab Summit. At first, I didn't believe the rumors. How can a government simply declare two holidays ten days before the date? I wasn't hopeful. Furthermore, I expected the holiday would be just for the public sector which meant my private school would still be in session.<br />
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<b>I was wrong.</b> As it turns out, if you are the President of Peru, you <i>can</i> declare two extra holidays- for both the public and private sector. Four day weekend, hooray!<br />
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To get out of the city and make the best of our unexpected holidays, two friends and I took an overnight bus to Huaraz, to enjoy mountain views, ancient ruins and beautiful hiking.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">View of the valley at the start of our horseback ride </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With Cañón while taking a break</span></td></tr>
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We started our trip with a three hour horseback ride up a mountain outside of Huaraz. I hadn't been on a horse in nearly 10 years and my inexperience showed. Once I trusted my horse enough to know he wouldn't fall down the side of the mountain, I began to relax and could enjoy the views. The only sounds I heard were the rustling of the wind and the horse's hooves on the paths. That kind of quiet is eerie when coming from a city plagued by car horns, travelings salesman and bus engines.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On the way to Chavín</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Ruins at Chavín de Huantar</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The main temple at Chavín</span></td></tr>
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The second day we drove three hours to Chavín to explore the ancient ruins at the site. Archeologists have found evidence of civilizations on this site as early as 1200 BCE but the Chavín culture didn't arrive until about 400-500 BCE. People often talk just about the Incas and it's easy to forget that the Incas were one of the last cultures in Peru, meaning that before them the country was inhabited by a myriad of other people, cultures and traditions. Chavín is strategically located in the valley of the mountains and at the intersection of two rivers. Used a a ceremonial site, the only people who would have had unlimited access to the temple would have been the high priests. Most likely, the everyday citizens lived in the surrounding areas.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lago Llaca, Huascarán National Park</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The glacial lake and mountains- 14,678 ft. about sea level</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At the lake</span></td></tr>
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On the finally day, we took a car into Huascarán National Park. I'm a proud city girl who has never been keen on hiking but these views have changed my mind. At 14,000 feet above sea level, it felt as if we could touch the top of the snow capped mountains. Through my travels, I have become aware of the earth's size in regards to width but it wasn't until this trip that I began to think of the earth in vertical proportions. It was the first time I had been around mountains of this size and I was in awe of it's beauty. Clean blue skies, snow lined mountains and crisp mountain air, it can't get much better than that.<br /><br />
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Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-3620924952785043372012-09-27T19:29:00.002-05:002012-09-27T19:29:46.666-05:00CharmerTaking a taxi in Lima is a bargaining affair and the prices always start high since I'm clearly a foreigner. Whether or not I will budge on a price is a combination of how well I know the fare and how badly I want to get home. Some days, I'll pay a little more but other days, I fight and fight and then sometimes just walk away.<br />
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When a driver submits his opening offer with the diminutive of <i>soles</i>, which is <i>solcitos</i>, there's no doubt in my mind that he's trying to rip me off. Why emphasis the smallness of your offer if it's a fair price?<br />
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Last week, the <i>solcitos</i> made an appearance.<br />
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Driver: "Ten <i>solcitos."</i><br />
Me: <i>"</i>No, eight."<br />
Driver: "Um...nine."<br />
Me: "No, I'll pay eight."<br />
Driver: "Nine <i>soles, </i>because I have a clean car just for you, <i>señorita.</i>"<br />
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And with an eye roll, I opened the door and hopped into the back seat. Then sun had come out that day, which is gladly welcomed in our sun-less Lima winter, but when it comes out, it's hot. I was dressed for winter in summer weather and simply wanted to get home. So the extra <i>sol</i> was worth it, just to get home and ride in clean car.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-66525526296929550602012-09-14T17:42:00.001-05:002012-09-14T17:42:03.125-05:00Right HereLast January, I spent a week Tegucigalpa, Honduras, translating for a group of American doctors that were running medical clinics in the outlying towns and villages. I have absolutely no medical knowledge and before that, considered myself to be squeamish around dental matters. After five days translating and assisting with extractions I conquered my fear of teeth and discovered a passion for missions.<br />
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In Lima, we are close friends with a family who came to Lima to provide medical care to the areas outside of the city. They work not only to provide well check ups to children through Compassion International, but also to host short term teams who come to Peru for week long medical campaigns. On several occasions, I have had the privilege to tag along, help with registration and translate as needed.<br />
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This past week, a team from California was here to run a campaign in a small town in the mountains. The further east you go, the more mountainous the area becomes. This treacherous geography comes with an array of difficulties, homes are often unstable, their only access to water is what is brought in by trucks, transportation is sparse, jobs are hard to find and the winters are cold. The sandy mountains are unable to sustain plant life, so the whole town blends into one dusty, brown background.<br />
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On the first day, we arranged for the medical and dental clinics to be held in separate buildings. This change of plans meant that we had to carry all of the dental equipment to the second building. I grabbed a dental tray, complete with tubes for suction, spray for water and space for instruments then I began my walk up the hill. As I walked, I took in the scenery around me and then I thought, "This is where I am right now." Never before could I have imagined walking up that rocky mountain. I could have never dreamed that I would be able to translate between a Peruvian dentist and American dental hygienist. I never thought about medical missions. I was hit with the overwhelming feeling that <b>"This is my life, I have a dental tray slung over my shoulder and I am making my way up a mountain, getting lost in the fog." </b><br />
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I was startlingly aware of how small I am in comparison to the whole world. I was taking up just a small bit of land on the side of the mountain. I felt minuscule when compared to the size of the mountain, the size of Lima, the size of Peru, the size of the rest of the world that looks nothing like that dusty mountain.<br />
<b><br /></b>That moment made me thankful for Peru. Thankful that this country has given me an opportunity to explore a part of the world and a part of me that I never would have found had I not settled here. I could have never imagined it, but it also couldn't be more perfect.<br />
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<b><br /></b>Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-30940674858362694012012-08-31T19:07:00.001-05:002012-08-31T19:07:22.715-05:00100th Day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy 100th Day of school from First Grade! This was my first time on the teacher side of the 100th Day celebrations and it was a fantastic day for teachers and students alike. I remember my elementary years and how I eagerly anticipated the 100th Day because the number 100 was infinitely large in my young brain. Every morning we count the number of days we have been in school so the excitement has been building since Day 1.</div>
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In preparation for the big day, I've been scouring the web for ideas and it seems that almost every school in the US has a school wide celebration. Here, unfortunately, the day usually passes without mention. But not this year. With the help of our larger than life sign, the whole school asked about the significance of the "100" and we gleefully shouted, "Happy 100th Day of School!"</div>
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The teacher in my classroom had a marvelous day planned for our little ones. The students wore crowns celebrating that they are now 100 days smarter. We counted 100 things for snack and then grouped them by tens to make a mix of all the snacks. The students refashioned their number "100" (poster board cut outs) into imaginative butterflies, scooters, dumbbells, balloons and rings of fire. The most entertaining part of the day was when the children had to write what they will be like when they are 100. Most assumed that they will have white hair, children and a chauffeur, but one particular child is hoping to have a very special career in 93 years...</div>
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Today was the perfect way to celebrate all of our chicos being 100 days smarter & brighter. I loved seeing them so excited about learning and about reaching such a terrific milestone. We ended the day with each child receiving a small diploma noting their accomplishment. There were ecstatic, their enthusiasm and pride radiated throughout the classroom. 100 days smarter and 100 days cuter. </div>
<br />Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-13656625946008326442012-08-20T20:34:00.001-05:002012-08-20T20:34:36.101-05:00Identity My sweet cleaning lady left me fresh coffee from Chanchamayo, a town in the highlands known for their coffee, so I've been sipping my coffee, browsing the web and trying to stay warm. I stumbled across <a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2012/08/15/opinion/chairez-flag-waving/index.html?hpt=ila_t4">this article</a> about a Mexican-American athlete, competing for the US, who waved both flags after winning second in the 1,500m race.<br />
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After just two years in Peru, I feel as if my American identity has been molded and changed. I have a greater pride for my country than I did before moving here. Before I never paid much attention to the things that make the United States, <i>the United States</i>. I saw everything as a mix of cultures, a melting pot, an identity crisis that left me without a clear understanding of what it means to be "American". Two years removed from the country has shown me that the mix of cultures, the melting pot and the identity crisis are "American". But so are long summer nights, cool fall days, football season, local festivals, diners, lakes, mountains, an evening bar-b-que, Christmas lights and country roads. These are the things that I miss about the United States, things that I took for granted because they were simply <i>there. </i>But <i>here, </i>we don't have fall nor football season. I miss the mountains and bar-b-que, I yearn for a long country road shaded by overgrown trees. </div>
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When I go back to the States, I'm going to take a little bit of Peru with me. I do not have dual citizenship, but one day I most likely will hold citizenship in two countries. Will that make me Peruvian? Maybe a little, but not exactly. I will never be Peruvian like Alvaro is Peruvian, and he will never be American like I am American. There are cultural differences that are so deeply rooted that even years of living abroad and dual citizenships can not change. Neither of us would want those to change. We both take pride in where we come from but also find some of our identity in our adopted countries. To be called American isn't enough, nor to be called Peruvian. Instead we might one day identity ourselves as Peruvian-American and American-Peruvian.<br />
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My identity is negotiable, it is formed by the places I have lived and the place where I live now. It is formed by culture, language and tradition. For me my identity has become more fluid in the blending of two cultures, two languages and two traditions. As I venture further into this multicultural life, I hope to better understand the things that mold me- let them be American, Peruvian or something in between. Just let them be me. </div>
Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-85355052173998733432012-08-15T20:55:00.002-05:002012-08-15T20:55:39.623-05:00Earthquake DrillTonight Lima is having an earthquake drill to simulate a grade 8 earthquake and tsunami. They have set up check points through the city, with emergency tents to point residents to the right location. I imagine that the city security force will double in numbers to guide residents to the designated meeting point.<br />
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Earthquakes are still a new phenomenon for me. I grew up with fire drills and tornado warnings. Hurricanes were to be expected but never an earthquake. Whenever we have an earthquake drill at school I wonder, "Is this effective? Will this really protect us in the case of a large scale earthquake?" I really have no idea. Thankfully, since I have been in Lima, we have yet to have anything larger than a shake, but you never know. Sitting on what most call "the ring of fire," Lima is prone to movement.<br />
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I understand and appreciate the city's desire to be prepared for a large scale earthquake. With 7 million people roaming around, it's good to practice emergency evacuations every once in a while. Limeans should also be taught not to go to the shore to watch the wave, as they did after the Japan tsunami last year. Though I applaud their efforts, I won't be evacuating for this city wide drill. Rushing down the stairs at 9pm, isn't appealing to this early bird. Instead I'll calmly plot my escape while drifting off to sleep.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-60233422925464322232012-08-10T18:23:00.000-05:002012-08-10T20:06:16.214-05:00Flip FloppingI have a love hate relationship with Peru. Last Sunday, 36 hours after arriving in Lima, I woke up a nervous wreck and burst into tears. It took three tries to get out the words, "I just miss you guys," when I called my family on Skype.<br />
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Fast forward to last night's commute home and I was in love with Lima. On my hour long, rush hour commute I felt like I can't give up on Peru. Even amidst the horns, the traffic and the crazy drivers, I saw all the good things that I love. Peru feels like a odd fitting dress- I try and try to make it work, but something always feels off. However, I can't bring myself to get rid of it. I surely hope this is some kind of strange expat syndrome because all this "I love Peru- I can't stand Peru-I love Peru" is making me feel like a crazy person.<br />
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In the middle of that limbo, I went to the bank to deposit American dollars. The teller told me that I couldn't deposit one $20 bill because it had a small rip in it, then she handed it back to me. I was furious. It's just $20, so it's not really important, but on the basic principle I was mad. I brought that bill from the States so I know's it's legitimate, just a little worn. Old Meghan would just take it and smile. American Meghan would apologize for the mistake. But somehow in all this, a new Meghan has emerged and I looked at her and said,<br />
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<b>"Well, I know it's real. I brought it from the States last week."</b><br />
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I stopped myself there but so badly wanted to ask, "Would you like to see my plane ticket?"<br />
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I walked to the supermarket, still fuming but also thinking about how much more hardcore I have become since living here. I won't let Peru walk all over me. There's a love/hate moment for you.<br />
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<br />Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-28116066779250579722012-08-03T16:01:00.000-05:002012-08-05T16:07:43.545-05:00Time Travel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After a restful few weeks in my beloved Nashville, I'm back in Lima. It's cold and gloomy, but I'm reunited with Emmaline and that makes everything ok. She's been lonely for a few weeks but a few new mice toys seemed to buy her forgiveness. I'm slowly processing the mix of emotions that seem to accompany me on any trip home, but more on that later.<br />
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On a lighter note, Peruvian Immigrations never ceases to amaze me. In addition to efficiency they also specialize in time travel. Somehow I managed to leave the county on July 15th and re-enter on July 3rd. Oh the mysteries of Peru...Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-27827626625899777042012-07-30T07:40:00.002-05:002012-07-30T07:40:52.477-05:00On EavesdroppingYesterday I was eating lunch in a local deli and catching up on my latest Kindle download. Halfway through my mac and cheese, two women sat down at a table near mine. Before taking her first bite, one woman began to tell her friend how all she wants is to have a few friends. She lamented that it's hard to make friends in a new city if you're not school, "Where do you find them?" she asked. Next she began explaining that her only social interaction consists of time with her boyfriend's grad school classmates. <i>"All they talk about is school and gossip. Who sent this email, who responded and who didn't. Can you believe the professor did that? How could he?" </i>She complained of being the only non-grad student and that she felt out of place in their academic circle.<br />
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Over the last eighteen months I have had the same exchange with Alvaro countless times: They all speak so fast. I don't know anything about law. You have all been friends for years, how can I be a part of that? It's been a long, slow process but I can now be a part of his group of friends without being a nervous wreck.<br />
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While eavesdropping, I realized that being in Lima has changed my view of social difficulties. If I were in the same situation as that woman, I would find one person to chat with and slowly build allies. I would try my hardest to be involved, because I no longer had language as a crutch. I would have to do it because I can already hear Alvaro saying to me, "You can do it! They all speak English!" And that thought scared me a little. Well thanks, Lima, you've just raised the bar.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-74410171961950449642012-07-18T07:41:00.000-05:002012-07-18T07:41:00.545-05:00NamesA few days ago as I was riding on a bus and I instinctively responded when addressed as "Señorita". Although I've lived in Lima well over twenty months, I'm still surprised at how easily I answer to my long list of new names. In the States I would simply be called "Meghan," "ma'am," or "miss". Don't get me wrong, my heart jumps for joy when a Southern gentleman calls me "ma'am" or "miss" but I think I prefer the endearing nature of my following new names:<br />
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<b>Meghan</b> (pronounced as a mix between "May-gone" or "May- gun")<br />
<b>Meghancita</b>- little Meghan<br />
<b>Miss Meghan- </b>all female teachers are addressed as "Miss"<br />
<b>Missita</b>- little Miss Meghan<br />
<b>Señorita </b><br />
<b>Amiga</b>- friend<br />
<b>Linda</b>- cute<br />
<b>Mi hija- </b>literally "my daughter" but sometimes used to speak to younger generations<br />
<b>Mi hijita</b>- the same thing but diminutive<br />
<b>Flaquita</b>- skinny<br />
<b>Mami- </b>literally "mommy" but sometimes used to address women<br />
<b>Mamita-</b> little mommy<br />
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<br />Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-90160113278771277672012-07-13T18:55:00.003-05:002012-07-13T18:55:36.675-05:00DistractionsI have been cursed with broken luggage. Maybe I pack incorrectly, need sturdier luggage or just have bad luck, but my largest bag always breaks and at the worst times. When I landed in Munich to begin my semester abroad, I pulled an enormous bag off the carousel and noticed that one wheel had broken off. <i>Welcome to Germany, where you will drag 75 pounds to the train station!</i> Last January, I flew from Honduras to Miami en route to Lima. Once again, my largest piece of luggage was destroyed.<br />
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Thankfully, there's an abundance of shoe and luggage repair shops near my house. For a decent fee and a few days work, my luggage is "completely new" and ready for my upcoming trip to Nashville. I hailed a taxi to take me home and quickly gave the driver directions.<br />
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As he began to turn the wrong way on a one way street I yelled, "You can't go that way!" and he replied:<br />
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<b>"I was distracted by your beauty! Your eyes are beautiful."</b><br />
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That's the third time in two weeks that a driver has complemented my naturally bluish green with a hint of yellow eyes. I humbly thanked him as we chatted about the United States and I gave him the last directions to get to my building. <br />
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I think it's been a successful day. A half day at work, two rounds of Pisco Sours, a repaired suitcase and a compliment from a taxi driver. All in all, that's not too shabby.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-34580586064724241712012-07-12T21:20:00.000-05:002012-07-13T18:28:59.561-05:00We all play<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As Peru competes in the qualifying matches for the 2014 World Cup, a Peruvian beer company has launched a brilliant ad campaign with the following slogan:<br />
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<i>Cuando juega Perú, jugamos todos.</i><br />
<b>When Peru plays, we all play. </b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">It starts with a press conference where national team coach Sergio Markarián (shhh, he's Uruguayan) says "And these are those who defend the red and white". He then begins calling out the names of Peru's star players: Claudio Pizarro, Paolo Guerrero, Jefferson Farfán. As the camera cuts to the barbershop, he begins calling the names of average Peruvians- a barber, a fisherman, a waiter, a teacher, a salesman a taxi driver, a miner and a fireman, among others.</span></b><br />
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What I love about this particular campaign is that it seamlessly brings together all of Peru. The commercial moves through Peru's diverse geography- through the mountains, the coast and the jungle. It's full of images that bring pride to Peru- rolling hills, crystal blue lakes, vivid textiles and beautiful architecture- all things that make <i>me</i> proud to call Peru my home.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-48047154896408649402012-07-06T17:17:00.001-05:002012-07-13T17:00:11.627-05:00The Blues & RosesI've been pretty down lately. Mostly I blame my emotional state on the sinus infection I have been fighting for the past six days. What started out as a small cold with the change in season, turned into a full blown sinus headache that left me home in bed for four days. My doctor enforced quarantine coincided with the Fourth of July, which left me to sit at home and wallow in my homesickness while watching an obscene amount of Friday Night Lights. I haven't eaten a real meal in days and I am tired of my constant state of nausea.<br />
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Too much time alone at home resulted in lots of research about my inevitable move back to the States. I began looking up courses to take in my first semester of grad school, I googled apartments that I will never be able to afford and started dreaming what the <i>next- </i>next step will be.<br />
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I've been dreaming about theological conversations over coffee and internships in museums. I've been thinking about thesis topics and whether or not I want to get a degree in art history. I've been dreaming about moving to Europe after grad school and getting my PhD.<br />
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Then on Thursday, it was back to reality and back to teaching six year olds about fact families. Maybe it was the hunger speaking, but I was in a foul mood yesterday. I nearly broke into tears when thinking about how I <i>just don't want to do this anymore</i>. I didn't feel passionate about any of the work that I was doing and became jealous of all those who calling teaching their vocation.<br />
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This morning, as all of Peru erupted into happiness to celebrate Teacher's Day (<a href="http://ladyinlima.blogspot.com/2012/05/peruvian-clown-day.html">because everyone has a day</a>), I was resentful. I couldn't understand why there was all this commotion. I wanted to scream out, <b>"And what about theologian's day? Art historian's day? Don't you know, I'm a fake! I'm not a real teacher!"</b><br />
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But then, this afternoon we had a small party to celebrate<i> </i>"our day". Before the party started, one our our sweet boys ran up to me and gave me a dozen roses. He wrapped his arms around my neck and proclaimed, "Happy Day, Miss!", then bounced back to his table. My heart melted. How can I be resentful about a job that allows me to accept flowers from a six year old whose hoodie zips up into a Spiderman mask? How can I possibly be upset about spending my day getting hugs, tying shoes and helping with spelling?<br />
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I might not have studied elementary education and at times I might feel lost, but at the end of the day it's just about loving those kids. About teaching them and helping them and showing them how to be decent human beings. I have the rest of my life to get lost in theological discussions and art history theory, but I only have a few more months with these kids. Next year, when my brain feels like it is going to explode from a theology reading, I will miss the days of kids making predications that water is going to explode in the freezer. Or coming out of the bathroom with their jacket on upside down. I will miss their innocence.<br />
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So to all you real and maybe <i>not so real</i> teachers out there, Happy Teacher's Day from Peru!Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-16364819701861837632012-06-29T11:13:00.001-05:002012-07-13T18:29:25.857-05:00Mostly EuropeanMost of my taxi drivers don't assume I'm American. They typically assume that I am from a Western European country, the most popular assumptions being France, England and Germany. The conversation usually begins with my driver asking if I'm German, then I smile and say that I am in fact from the States. Which then begins a conversation about Tennessee and whether or not it is close to Arizona or Texas. Um, <i>not quite</i>.<br />
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It seems to be a common occurrence among my expat friends. One of my friends has begun to keep track of the various countries he is "from" among them, Canada, France, Australia, Germany, Switzerland and England. But rarely the United States.<br />
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It's an interesting phenomena and I'm not sure of the cause. Maybe because I don't dress like an "American tourist" or because my accent is a neutral "foreigner accent" (I would love that!). Either way, I'll take it. It's refreshing to feel like I don't fall into any particular category. That I could easily be from any number of countries based on someone's prior assumptions and/or stereotypes. It makes me feel like I effortless adapt, change and find my place anywhere else in the world.<br />
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And most importantly, I love that people think I'm German. <i>Ja, danke. </i>Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-86136810980997581342012-06-22T16:52:00.000-05:002012-07-13T18:29:34.798-05:00Miss Meghan, Spanish TeacherToday the Spanish teacher in my classroom was at an off-campus workshop so Miss Meghan filled in for español. Usually, when I lead Spanish class, I do it in English and only say Spanish words when absolutely necessary. This is mostly because I know that I make mistakes in Spanish and I know that I have an accent, which somehow makes me feel like less of an authority figure. And when I am standing in front of 23 kids, I <i>need</i> to emit authority.<br />
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I have no idea what happened today, but when it was time for Spanish class, Spanish came rolling off my tongue. <b>So I went with it. </b>I even scolded the children for their notoriously bad behavior in Spanish class compared to their English class. Which is unacceptable, I told them, because it's your native language.<br />
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The most difficult part of the class was when I had to give a Spanish spelling test. This test isn't just words, but complete sentences. To top it off, my students are learning the letter <i>j,</i> which is a tricky sound for an English speaker. And of course, nearly half of the words had a <i>j</i>. For example:<br />
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<i>Julieta tiene un conejo. </i>(Julia has a rabbit.)<br />
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<i>La abeja me pico el ojo.</i> (The bee stung my eye.)<br />
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This morning, I practiced with a Peruvian friend so she could correct my pronunciation. At the end of our practice session, she said it sounded great (major confidence boost!).<br />
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I glanced at the tests and they all seemed to do fairly well, thankfully the mistakes they made didn't appear to come from my accent.<br />
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Hopefully, this Spanish roll will continue at my hair appointment this evening. I want to change my cut so I can no longer walk in a say, "The same!" I've been brushing up on my haircut vocabulary and I trust my stylist enough to know that we will somehow meet in the middle.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-82346619830115079302012-06-20T07:16:00.000-05:002012-07-13T18:29:43.612-05:00Missing ConsonantAs part of our unit on water, yesterday we visited a 1950s submarine that is docked at Lima's main port in Callao. All of our children were brave and climbed down the scary looking ladder. The <i>oohed</i> and <i>awwed</i> over the bunk beds, tiny shower and mannequins stuffed into the kitchen. They courageously made it through the fake explosion, complete with loud sirens, red lights and a fire made of fabric.<br />
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As were standing on top of the submarine getting ready to leave, one cute boy showed off his English language skills:<br />
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Juan Diego: "Miss Meghan, I know how to say <i>rascacielos</i> in English."<br />
Me: "You do? What is it?"<br />
Juan Diego: (<i>enthusiastically)</i> <b>"Skycrapper!"</b><br />
Me: "No, Juan Diego, it's sky<u>scraper</u>!"<br />
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I adore my inquisitive, energetic, curious and fearless first graders. What an adorable age!Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-31964264488290739912012-06-16T23:25:00.003-05:002012-07-13T18:29:55.679-05:00Organic Market<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPp_Qs0wHz1pjtTpw2dhqYpk13mge_8L0g5XNvoTk1AG2tXn_8JbCX6mePFwYnL6ODx6ripn0cA4nUBSmb-BgkvEd224GvZdweZlX2MjdUaq84g-ee7kvQkGCP5t_Uw9l9i6qpVTB8uSw/s1600/market" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPp_Qs0wHz1pjtTpw2dhqYpk13mge_8L0g5XNvoTk1AG2tXn_8JbCX6mePFwYnL6ODx6ripn0cA4nUBSmb-BgkvEd224GvZdweZlX2MjdUaq84g-ee7kvQkGCP5t_Uw9l9i6qpVTB8uSw/s320/market" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am embarrassed to admit that it has taken over nineteen months for me to make it to Lima's organic market. But better late than never, right?<br />
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I heard about the market months before when I was living with a friend of mine and had plans to go several times, but it seemed that something else always came up. Finally, this morning it worked out and I went to check it out with a few friends.<br />
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Before arriving, I knew that I wanted to buy eggs. Ever since <a href="http://ladyinlima.blogspot.com/2012/02/sun-sand.html">our trip to Ica</a>, when we passed countless chicken farms along the coast, I have been feeling guilty about my non-organic eggs. Not only did I find eggs, but goat cheese and greek yogurt. What a sweet victory because those are difficult finds in Lima. I also bought a few tomatoes and cucumbers with visions of Greek food dancing in my head.<br />
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After making our purchases, we walked through the park and found two yoga classes, a tai chi class and what appeared to be a baby and daddy music class. It's a beautiful park that's not overrun by tourists, which is a nice change. Everything felt very <i>community focused </i>and I loved being a part of the community, no matter how briefly.<br />
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I think I have found my new Saturday morning routine- produce shopping at the organic market followed by yoga in the park. And lots and lots of Greek food.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-55542785190679397642012-06-11T20:12:00.001-05:002012-07-13T18:30:04.932-05:00Lima Wedding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As far as cultural milestones are concerned, weddings are a pretty big one. Between the bridal brunch and wedding, I now feel like I have been fully inducted into Peruvian culture.<br />
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It was a beautiful day for a Lima winter wedding and the white stone hacienda served as the perfect backdrop. The couple was married in a small chapel with their closest family while the rest of the guests waited outside. After the ceremony we were treated to a Peruvian Paso Horse show (my favorite!) and a beautiful parade of pisco sours and delicious appetizers. We then moved to the reception which took place under a large white canopy which was full of people and alcohol. Pisco sours on arrival, wine for each table, rum for each table, personalized bottles of pisco and glasses of champagne flowing freely.<br />
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I ate my weight my Peruvian food and then danced it off <i>latina</i> style. The best compliment I received was, "Meghan, you <u>don't</u> look like a <i>gringa</i>!"The picture above is from the <i>hora loca </i>or "crazy hour" which takes place at every Peruvian wedding. It's full of silly hats, noise makers, balloons and often times clowns and people on stilts. Check out the newlyweds behind me!<br />
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The only surprise tradition was when it came time for the garter toss. In Peru, once the garter is removed, the groom chooses an (un)lucky couple to take their place center stage and the male then places the garter on his significant other. The beautiful bride had not one, not two but <b>ten</b> garters, meaning that ten couples were chosen for this honor. Alvaro and I were spared the embarrassment but our newly engaged friends were not.<br />
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It was a wonderful day full of sunshine, friends, family and lots of love. My perfect introduction to Peruvian weddings. Congratulations to the newlyweds!Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-57374108127780015852012-06-02T16:34:00.004-05:002012-07-13T18:30:19.766-05:00Bridal BrunchOver the course of the last year and a half, I have received a slow induction to Peruvian culture and today I crossed another milestone: <b>Peruvian wedding festivities</b>.<br />
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When I was invited to the brunch, I was flattered but slightly confused. I have been around the bride only a handful of times. I work with her mom and we also have a mutual friend, but I didn't feel like we were close enough to merit an invite. I was thrilled to be invited but also terrified when reality hit me: I know nothing about Peruvian weddings.<br />
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One day this week, on the way to school, the teacher I ride with gave me a full introduction to Peruvian wedding traditions. I asked her every question I could think of: <i>What do I wear? Do I bring a gift? How long does this last? Do I show up on time or on "Peruvian time"?</i><br />
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Thankfully we had that conversation because otherwise I would have gone about this all wrong. I would have brought a present, not money which is expected. I would have called with an RSVP which isn't necessary. I would have showed up at 10am and probably been the only one there.<br />
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This was unlike the small, intimate bridal lunch I had imagined. We walked into the second floor of a restaurant and were greeted by over one hundred smiley, ecstatic women. A friend of mine came with me and we were seated at one of the two tables reserved for people from the school. As we looked around we noticed that we were the youngest ones, by at least two decades. But it didn't matter, we snacked on sandwiches and discussed the history of the school. The sweet, elderly religion teacher flagged down a waiter to order my first <i>algarrobina</i>- a cocktail made with pisco and the syrup of a Peruvian tree.<br />
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There was lots of hugging and smiles. Lots of chatting and excitement regarding the upcoming nuptials. When the groom arrived with a dozen roses, the whole room squealed in unison. I looked around and <i>felt comfortable</i>, the check kissing and the excitement <i>feels natural</i>. What once would have terrified me- a room full of 100 chatty Peruvian women- now feels like second nature. I now have one more milestone in my extensive training on how to be semi-Peruvian.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-77969553121098539902012-05-30T20:27:00.000-05:002012-07-13T18:30:29.202-05:00Peruvian Clown DayOne of my new Sunday afternoon habits is to help myself to the Sunday paper while waiting for Alvaro's family. We do a lot of waiting on Sundays. Waiting for lunch. Waiting for company. Waiting for dessert. Waiting for everyone to wake up from their Sunday nap. Waiting for real time to collide with "Peruvian time". I do a lot of waiting, so I read the paper.<br />
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Since I've been here through a full calendar year, I have noticed that Peru has an unusual number of special days. It seems to me that most every food, drink, age group, occupation and cultural event has a special "day" when it's celebrated. Here's a short list from my memory:</div>
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- Women's Day</div>
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- Children's Day</div>
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- Grandparent's Day</div>
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- Friendship Day</div>
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- Rotisserie Chicken Day</div>
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- Pisco Day</div>
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- Pisco Sour Day</div>
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- Potato Day (which happens to be today)</div>
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- Teacher's Day</div>
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- Psychologist's Day</div>
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- Nurse's Day</div>
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- Limean Song Day (which coincides with Halloween, causing tension and mixed alliances)</div>
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These days aren't simply notes on a calendar, they are advertised, celebrated and showered with gifts. Everyone and everything has a day. On Sunday, the front page of El Comercio showed that a new group wants their day. A peaceful protest full of 500 colorfully dressed clowns marched through Central Lima on their way to Congress requesting that May 25th be declared "Peruvian Clown Day" to celebrate "all of the happiness that Peruvian clowns bring to children."</div>
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As of Sunday, there's no word if May 25th has been officially declared "Peruvian Clown Day". I guess I'll have to wait until 2013 to find out.</div>
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<br /></div>Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-85888557355909143842012-05-12T18:15:00.001-05:002012-05-12T18:48:05.511-05:00Vacation Ends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday morning it's back to my 5:30am alarm, long commute, private classes and adorable kids. Today I am sad for the loss of my vacation, but a beautiful day can easily make up for that. Especially when it includes a ceviche lunch, with an ocean view and my favorite guy in all the Americas.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360926252580213053.post-69572940289940182742012-05-10T10:05:00.001-05:002012-05-10T10:05:29.048-05:00Mototaxi<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR_9CGxwuGpOwunefmn_z8QvPM9r1T9Hyu3nqBnZkPAopbT9JUstD86IzjB1dmouM5wJedvMdYFIRP5sKissJ7Cw-J5RcXOcN6bTTV2xBaQFLYnqT84n_edwKoN7MiSr1zq8HwDgLU0E/s1600/mototaxi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR_9CGxwuGpOwunefmn_z8QvPM9r1T9Hyu3nqBnZkPAopbT9JUstD86IzjB1dmouM5wJedvMdYFIRP5sKissJ7Cw-J5RcXOcN6bTTV2xBaQFLYnqT84n_edwKoN7MiSr1zq8HwDgLU0E/s320/mototaxi.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even within mototaxis, the different styles are endless</td></tr>
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The different types of transportation available in Lima and the surrounding areas, are endless.<br />
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There are big buses, medium buses and teeny tiny small buses. There are buses that run through the median and therefore are immune to Lima traffic. Some buses are new and some buses are very, very old. There are motorcycles of all shapes, makes and sizes. Motorcycles for one person, motorcycles that carry small cargo, motorcycles that carry large cargo and motorcycle taxis. There are big taxis, small taxis, single taxis and group taxis. Lima's newest transportation addition is a raised rail system that runs high above the traffic below. Take your pick, there's always a way to get around.<br />
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Since arriving in Lima, I have been fascinated by the mototaxi. These small taxis are perfect for maneuvering through small streets and quickly getting passengers from one place to another. While abundant in some districts of Lima, they are forbidden in others. For this reason, I have never had the opportunity to ride one. Until yesterday.<br />
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This week while we are on break from school, I am helping a pediatrician missionary who attends our church. Part of his work in Lima is to go to various churches and schools and provide well check ups for the local children. These checkups first and foremost, allow the children to be seen a doctor, but also provide the mission organization with essential data regarding nutrition and health care, so that they can later tailor their help to the need of the area.<br />
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Yesterday, as we were leaving the site, he suggested that we take a mototaxi to the nearest train station. And there it was, the moment I had been waiting for- my first ride in a mototaxi. All three of us crammed into the back seat of a taxi slightly smaller than the one in the picture above. With two tall, lanky gringo guys, several backpacks and myself, it was a tight fit. As our driver weaved through traffic, I felt a cool breeze across my ankles then noticed the door flap waving in the wind.<br />
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We arrived at our station and saw a sea of other mototaxis waiting to take arriving passengers to their destination of choice. I squeezed through the small door, climbed out and safely landed on the sidewalk below. Now I can add "<b>rode a mototaxi</b>" to my list of Lima firsts. Hopefully, it won't be the last.Lady in Limahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17736253368551625921noreply@blogger.com