On Saturday, I called a taxi to take me to one of my English classes. I was waiting in the lobby of my building when two taxis arrived at the same time. Confused, I walked outside and was greeted by the driver of the second car. With this greeting, I assumed he was my driver and walked towards his car, but he quickly pointed me towards the first. I got in the car then he looked at me and said, "Señorita, do you speak Spanish?"
I confidently answered, "Yes, of course."
He then told me that my driver was new to the company and might need assistance with the directions to my location. I assured him that I knew the way and it would be no problem for me to direct him. He thanked me for my help and then we were on our way.
As we drove off, I asked my driver, "Señor, is this your first week?"
"No, señorita, this is my first day. My first service on my first day."
I couldn't believe it, for the first time in Lima history, I knew more than a Peruvian. As he struggled to call the base and enter the correct information, I gave him directions and told him the fee. I settled into the taxi and took a look around me. This is my home. Not only is this my home, but this has been my home. So much so that I am now familiar with customs and systems. In that taxi, I was the expert. Sure, it only lasted for a brief ten minutes but in those ten minutes I lost my expatriate naivety and I was the pro.
Sun & Sand
Last weekend, Alvaro, myself and Elizabeth (one of my very dear friends from high school) took a weekend trip to Ica, Peru. Elizabeth had been in Peru for about six weeks traveling to various cities and spending time with me in Lima. For her last weekend in Peru, we traveled south to the land of eternal sun and lots of sand.
On Saturday morning we took a small city tour that took us through the main square and past the ruins of the Ica Cathedral that was nearly destroyed in a 2007 earthquake. From there we went to Cachiche, a small village next to Ica that is famous for its historical witches. Several hundred years ago there was a large concentration of witches in this village and the area is full of mystical legends. These original witches passed down their traditions to descendants who still practice healing practices in the village. One of the most interesting parts of the village is the seven headed palm tree. It is believed that several hundred years ago, one witch put a curse on this tree saying that if the seventh head ever grows, the city of Ica will be destroyed. To prevent this from happening, the seventh head is ceremoniously cut every year.
We also visited a Pisco Bodega where we saw the traditional methods used to prepare Ica's famous pisco. After our tour, we tasted several varieties of pisco that are produced on the property.
But the highlight of the weekend was sandboarding! I have heard from several people that sandboarding is the thing to do in Ica and they all were right. I'm a stranger to any kind of extreme sport, so I admit I was fairly nervous before my first ride down the dune. But after surviving the first descent, I couldn't get enough! Not only was the sandboarding amazing, but the view was beautiful. I have never before stood in the middle of desert with only sand as far as my eyes could see. We were fortunate enough to have a clear night and were leaving the dunes around sunset. It was the perfect day, Point for Peru once again!
American Holidays
The joys of an American holiday season.
I have no shame in saying that I have barely thought about Peru and my home in Lima over the past three weeks. I have been too busy enjoying winter weather, time with my family, familiar streets, the English language and lots of visits with friends.
In the weeks leading up to my trip to the States, I was the most homesick I had ever been. I yearned to come home and in nearly everything I did I remembered, "Just two weeks until the States..."
No amount of homesickness could have prepared me for the feeling of pure joy and gladness I have felt since being home. The first few days, I was emotional wreck. On Christmas Eve, we went to see the Tennessee Titans play the Jacksonville Jaguars and I cried at the first note of the National Anthem. That evening at our Christmas Eve service, I cried while singing the familiar lyrics of Christmas Carols. I cried when hearing country music on the radio and when seeing the cheerful face of my parents dog.
And now, as I enter my last week in the States, I have once again become emotional and feel unprepared for my return to Lima. Yesterday as I sat in the Nashville airport waiting to pick up my mom, I sat listening to some wannabe country music star playing music for the whole lounge. In the moment, as I saw the sign for a beloved Nashville deli and heard "Welcome to Music City" come across the loud speaker, I was overwhelmed by my love for Nashville.
For my whole life, I have wanted to move away. To see the world and to live in a bustling city. Even a mid sized city like Nashville, felt too small for me. But now that I have done those things, I have moved away and lived in a huge city, I am drawn to the quaint, familiar feeling of Nashville. To the feeling of home.
Nashville is my home. My family is my home. Though I currently make my life somewhere else, it doesn't feel like my home. Just like all the travelers who have gone before me, I finally know the sweet joy of being able to simply come home.
I have no shame in saying that I have barely thought about Peru and my home in Lima over the past three weeks. I have been too busy enjoying winter weather, time with my family, familiar streets, the English language and lots of visits with friends.
In the weeks leading up to my trip to the States, I was the most homesick I had ever been. I yearned to come home and in nearly everything I did I remembered, "Just two weeks until the States..."
No amount of homesickness could have prepared me for the feeling of pure joy and gladness I have felt since being home. The first few days, I was emotional wreck. On Christmas Eve, we went to see the Tennessee Titans play the Jacksonville Jaguars and I cried at the first note of the National Anthem. That evening at our Christmas Eve service, I cried while singing the familiar lyrics of Christmas Carols. I cried when hearing country music on the radio and when seeing the cheerful face of my parents dog.
And now, as I enter my last week in the States, I have once again become emotional and feel unprepared for my return to Lima. Yesterday as I sat in the Nashville airport waiting to pick up my mom, I sat listening to some wannabe country music star playing music for the whole lounge. In the moment, as I saw the sign for a beloved Nashville deli and heard "Welcome to Music City" come across the loud speaker, I was overwhelmed by my love for Nashville.
For my whole life, I have wanted to move away. To see the world and to live in a bustling city. Even a mid sized city like Nashville, felt too small for me. But now that I have done those things, I have moved away and lived in a huge city, I am drawn to the quaint, familiar feeling of Nashville. To the feeling of home.
Nashville is my home. My family is my home. Though I currently make my life somewhere else, it doesn't feel like my home. Just like all the travelers who have gone before me, I finally know the sweet joy of being able to simply come home.
I sense a vacation
I am at that point where a vacation is so close that every day is a struggle to do anything but think about my vacation. It's made exponentially worse by three things:
1. I'm going to the States.
2. I'm going to the States for Christmas.
3. I'm going to the States for Christmas for four whole weeks!
All I think about is what restaurants we are going to go to, all the fun activities we have planned (Christmas light viewings, Alvaro's first live NFL game, a basketball game at my Alma Mater, hot chocolate...) the list goes on and on and on.
For all of the above reasons, the past week has been particularly difficult. I have learned a lot about my tolerance level for separation since being here. I used to think I was some tough traveler who could survive for months on end without any form of homesickness. Ladies and gentleman, that's a lie. I have discovered that around the six month mark, I start to become very, very homesick. If I want to be really honest though, I start to lose it. It feels as if a crazy person has inhabited my body for the past week, going from happy to angry to confused to I just want to go home!! in about five seconds flat.
Though I am yearning to leave Peru for a little while, I know I am not ready to leave Peru for good. That's comforting. It's hard to see that on the days when the only thing that will make me happy are law abiding drivers and sweet tea, but when I look around me I know that part of me loves this place.
But just because I love something, doesn't mean I don't need a break. I have two countdowns going: 10 days until we leave and 11 days until we touch down in Nashville. Tomorrow we hit single digits and then the real excitement begins!
1. I'm going to the States.
2. I'm going to the States for Christmas.
3. I'm going to the States for Christmas for four whole weeks!
All I think about is what restaurants we are going to go to, all the fun activities we have planned (Christmas light viewings, Alvaro's first live NFL game, a basketball game at my Alma Mater, hot chocolate...) the list goes on and on and on.
For all of the above reasons, the past week has been particularly difficult. I have learned a lot about my tolerance level for separation since being here. I used to think I was some tough traveler who could survive for months on end without any form of homesickness. Ladies and gentleman, that's a lie. I have discovered that around the six month mark, I start to become very, very homesick. If I want to be really honest though, I start to lose it. It feels as if a crazy person has inhabited my body for the past week, going from happy to angry to confused to I just want to go home!! in about five seconds flat.
Though I am yearning to leave Peru for a little while, I know I am not ready to leave Peru for good. That's comforting. It's hard to see that on the days when the only thing that will make me happy are law abiding drivers and sweet tea, but when I look around me I know that part of me loves this place.
But just because I love something, doesn't mean I don't need a break. I have two countdowns going: 10 days until we leave and 11 days until we touch down in Nashville. Tomorrow we hit single digits and then the real excitement begins!
Peruvian Thanksgiving
It's a weird feeling being outside of the US for Thanksgiving. Unlike other holidays, that are celebrated in the US and Peru, here no one knows much about Thanksgiving. If it weren't for my Facebook news feed or CNN, I probably would completely forget about the day. But thankfully, we have a small community of Americans in Lima who throw one impressive, traditional Peruvian feast.
There's an American girl in my class and her mom was sweet enough to bring me a slice of pumpkin pie last Thursday. As I ate my piece of pie, sweltering in the Peruvian summer heat, I realized how strange it was to be eating an autumn dessert at the onset of summer. But I'll take what i can get. That evening, I indulged in way too many carbs, delighting in two different stuffings and an array of casseroles. I skipped on dessert that evening, choosing to spend my calories on Stuffing Round Two.
After my second Thanksgiving in Peru, here's what I'm thankful for:
- My supportive family that loves me from afar and continually encourages me even on the toughest days.
- Alvaro, for being my driver, translator, cultural ambassador, dictionary, body guard and sounding board for this past year.
- For his family who have taken me in like a daughter by loving and protecting me.
- My job, because I am fully aware that it is by grace that I am in this position. My complete experience in Peru changed when I was offered this position.
- For this feeling of adaptation that has allowed me to feel more comfortable and independent in this strange place.
- For the days when my Spanish rocks.
- For the days when my Spanish is awful, they remind me that I still have a lot to learn.
- For all my children, they may drive me crazy but I love them to pieces.
- For my next year in Peru, that I may learn and more fully understand this foreign land.
- For my sweet Emmaline who has been my constant companion and brave soul on this expat journey.
And the most timely thanks: that in 22 days I'll be hopping continents and headed towards four full weeks in the USA.
There's an American girl in my class and her mom was sweet enough to bring me a slice of pumpkin pie last Thursday. As I ate my piece of pie, sweltering in the Peruvian summer heat, I realized how strange it was to be eating an autumn dessert at the onset of summer. But I'll take what i can get. That evening, I indulged in way too many carbs, delighting in two different stuffings and an array of casseroles. I skipped on dessert that evening, choosing to spend my calories on Stuffing Round Two.
After my second Thanksgiving in Peru, here's what I'm thankful for:
- My supportive family that loves me from afar and continually encourages me even on the toughest days.
- Alvaro, for being my driver, translator, cultural ambassador, dictionary, body guard and sounding board for this past year.
- For his family who have taken me in like a daughter by loving and protecting me.
- My job, because I am fully aware that it is by grace that I am in this position. My complete experience in Peru changed when I was offered this position.
- For this feeling of adaptation that has allowed me to feel more comfortable and independent in this strange place.
- For the days when my Spanish rocks.
- For the days when my Spanish is awful, they remind me that I still have a lot to learn.
- For all my children, they may drive me crazy but I love them to pieces.
- For my next year in Peru, that I may learn and more fully understand this foreign land.
- For my sweet Emmaline who has been my constant companion and brave soul on this expat journey.
And the most timely thanks: that in 22 days I'll be hopping continents and headed towards four full weeks in the USA.
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