A touching trip

On Friday, I went to a very poor area on the outskirts of Arequipa and visited a Catholic school there. I went with my boss and my four TEFL students. The area has no running water -- each day residents go to a well locked in a shed (they need a key to get in) and fill up their jugs. The area is above the city with a great view of Volcano Chachani, and it was incredibly dusty. It's hot in the day and very cool in the night and morning. More than half the children suffer from malnutrition and have lung and skin ailments because of the dust and dirt. The teachers there really do God's work, and the kids from pre-school to high school have very little, but are always smiling, laughing, playing, and in the end, learning. The visit was part of the cultural awareness portion of our TEFL class. I played soccer with the kids, and got schooled. A 7-year-old twice deflected my shots away from what appeared to be an open goal. Soccer is in their blood, and the kids are fearless. Yet, when the younger students see a gringo, they flock to you, and you feel the love. Most of these children have very difficult home lives as well. I'll be going there each month with my TEFL classes, and I'm really looking forward to the next visit.
They say bad things come in threes, whoever the hell THEY are. On Thursday this past week, THEY were right. First, I left my USB in a computer after downloading and printing out some teaching materials. I went home, remembered my USB, went back to work ... and the USB was gone, never to be recovered. The office secretaries joked that my porn collection and compromising videos of me were on the USB. Ha ha. Sorry, but I keep those on a disc (just kidding, of course!!). No. 2: After losing the USB, I went to my corner store to get a soda. I was wearing my backpack, which was loaded with books and stuff. When I turned to pay the owner, I knocked over an entire display of drinks -- at least 25 plastic soda containers were all over the floor in the crowded store. The owner (the guy pictured on the right in the dark photo) helped me pick up the drinks. Everyone else in the store looked at me and laughed, and then scowled because they had to wait for the owner to help me before he could take their money and complete their purchases. No. 3: I taught a lesson on the subjunctive to my 7 p.m. class and got kinda lost for a moment. One of the students corrected me, and then pointed out another error I made about possessive adjectives. I tried to defend myself and got a little more lost. I had to suck it up and say that I blew it. It ain't the first time! The student, Daphne, speaks flawless English and obviously, knows her grammar. I had to eat crow twice. The students were cool about it, though, only snickering at me for about seven minutes or so. I joked that on my deathbed I would mumble "Daphne", and then die, leaving any witnesses to my death to wonder who Daphne is. Of course, if those are the worst things that happen to me here, then I'm living right.
My 5 p.m. class is a total hoot -- youngsters (between 13-18, and one adult) who chat, sing and laugh all class. But when it's time to bear down, they're great. Really enjoy my 7 p.m. group as well, even with the subjunctive and possessive adjectives. I'll be teaching both groups again next month, and we're all happy about that. I'll also be teaching TEFL pedagogy and grammar, so I'll be a busy boy. Keeps me out of trouble.
I had lunch at La Pata the other day, and the soup was fantastic. But the main dish, pork leg of some sort (it looked like a human knee), was pretty gnarly. No meat on it, so I guess you're supposed to gnaw on the skin and whatever else was there. I tried, but gave up after a minute or so. Nasty business.

Back in line

I had my back go out on me last week. This happens about every 10 years or so, but 10 years ago I wasn't on my feet for seven hours a day teaching, or walking up and down the hilly streets of Arequipa to get to work and do all my business. Ah, but once again, the farmacia came to the rescue. My improving Spanish allowed me to understand the farmacia lady telling me that nerves had been squeezed, and I needed something to reduce the inflammation. Yup, sounded good to me. So I took the yellow pills twice a day for three days (with meals, the farmacia lady insisted). The first day I could make my wince look like a smile. The second day I was walking smoothly. The third day I was doing cartwheels with a roundoff flip finish. Well, let's just say that on the third day I was better.
Some disappointing news. I walked all the way to the "bad" part of town to get wine for cheap, hoping to see the little girl who was my wine connection the last time I was here. (The "bad" part of town is "badder" at night and not so "bad" in the day.) But when I got there, instead of a whole block of wine stalls like last time, only one was open and there was this angry looking guy there. I walk up and say hola, and get no response. Not even eye contact. I just go ahead and ask for a wine I bought for S/.12 (12 soles) last time. He tells me it's 26 soles. Adios amigo. A long walk for nada.
No question, getting service here is a much different ballgame than it is in the U.S. Passive-aggressive doesn't work. You have to be aggressive-aggressive. If you stand and wait for acknowledgment, the Peruvians will cut in front of you and order quicker than you can say "Pero yo estaba aqui primero!!!!" (But I was here first!!!!!) Also, don't expect pleasantries or much small talk. Item and money. You may get a gracias. The exception is the owner of the shop around the corner who always greets me with a smile and a funny comment. Actually, the ones I understand are funny. Not sure about the ones I don't understand.
My 5 p.m. class is younger and highly energetic. So I have to be the same. Then I go to the 7 p.m. class, which is composed of adults, and the energy level is much different. More sedate to be sure. The problem is, I come in hopped up with a few coffees in me, and it takes me a good half-hour to settle down. The 7 p.m. class thinks I'm insane, I think. I know this isn't very interesting, but I thought I'd share it with you anyway.
I brought some coca cookies to the 5 p.m. class, and one of my students, Caroline (great name!), remarked: "No wonder you have so much energy. And I thought that's just how you were." Actually, it was only the second time I've ever had them in Arequipa, Caroline .... so there.
TEFL class is great, and I'll be teaching it again next month. Let the good times roll.
I was sitting at the International Club restaurant having a pisco sour last night, enjoying the opulent atmosphere of the place and listening to the Rio Chili below. Then I noticed a guy who was apparently homeless setting up camp by the bridge across the river. Just as he was settled in, a big water truck came by spraying the dusty hillside leading up to the bridge. I guess this keeps dust down. The guy had to scramble or he would have gotten soaked. He never came back.

Revealing moments

Luckily, there is never a dull moment here in Arequipa. I bought some anticuchos on the bridge, and only had a 10-sol bill to pay with. I got 5 soles change, which was correct. However, the next day when I went to buy something at my corner store, the lady behind the counter looked at the coin and said "es falso." My anticuchos lady had given me a counterfeit S/.5 coin ... unknowingly, I'm sure. Of course, I was unable to make my purchase. I took the coin to the bank and showed it to the teller, who couldn't have been more dismissive when she told me "es bueno ... no es falso." That same teller refused to exchange the coin, and also refused to make change for that coin. I showed the coin to my students, who all said it was an obvious fake. So we played a competitive vocabulary game in class, and the winning team earned a 5-sol coin as a prize. By the way, the dollar ain't what it used to be here -- 5 soles is equivalent to $1.91. There's been a lot of counterfeiting here lately, I've been told, so I got training on how to check all the bills to make sure they're OK.
I've mentioned before how the women and girls dress conservatively here. No daisy dukes or short skirts. I should invest in blue jeans. That said, I found it interesting to see three gringas (white girls) sunbathing in short-shorts and skimpy tank tops alongside a very busy street and pedestrian walkway in a park across the street from my school. (I won't post that picture ...... 'cause I didn't take it). I don't know, but it just seemed kind of imperialistic to me. We're gonna do our skin cancer thing in front of God and everybody, even if it isn't part of the culture here. The taxi drivers approved, though, as did all the teenage boys walking by. It just seemed so out of place, kind of like wearing a speedo to church.
I was walking home from school the other night when an empty plastic coke container sailed past my head and hit the wall next to me. Much laughing and cackling came from a passing combi (little van that transports locals for cheap). I am a head taller than most of the folk here, so I'd be an easy target. And ... I'm a gringo. No harm no foul.
It's parade and firecracker season again. Isn't it always? Actually, Arequipa Day is this Wednesday -- the city is celebrating its 472nd anniversary. That's what the sign says. Time to Parte'.
Classes are going well. Students are wonderful. And you can take that to the bank.