GOALLL!!!!-Oriented

This has been (note the use of the present perfect tense) a very busy month. The first week of September I taught 9 hours a day, and the second week I taught 8 or 9 hours a day and also did a couple of hours of teacher observations of my TEFL students. I am either working or lesson planning (or wishing I had spent more time lesson planning). Things should settle down the latter part of the month. The TEFL class is an interesting bunch: a guy from Denmark, a guy from Belgium, a woman from Ecuador, and two young ladies from Massachusetts. The TEFL program is pretty intense -- 4-5 hours of class a day, and the students have to do observations and then student teaching. The program runs 18-20 days, and the TEFL students get pretty sick of seeing me. On the other hand, I never get sick of them because they're paying my way here. The grammar class wears all of us down since it's dense stuff and there's a lot of material to cover. I guess I could play more games as a teaching tool, but time is short and there's so much to cover. I didn't realize how much grammar there is -- to know and teach. Plus, I'm on my feet most of the day so when I get home I'm good for dinner and then it's right to bed. And loving every minute of it. Really.
I may bounce up to Costa Rica for a month or two to teach a TEFL class, but that's a very iffy proposition at the moment. The owner of the school here is working out the details, and since this is Latin America, things like schedules and commitments don't always pan out. (I don't mean pan as in the Spanish word for bread, either).
My Peruvian classes (5 p.m. to 9 p.m.) are going super well. The 5 p.m. class is high maintenance in a great way and the 7 p.m. group is very self-motivated. Interesting contrast, yet both classes are very smart.  I'm still fighting my on-again, off-again, on-again cigarette habit. My 5 p.m. class rides me real hard about it, and I've told them I'll quit. It'll happen. The 5 p.m. class is such a great group of kids. We've become pretty good friends, I think.
Speaking of cigs, the other night I flicked my spent butt at this little 4-inch by 4-inch drainage hole a ways away in the street, and the thing bounced right in. I even had a witness -- Christian, the security guard. Folks have been trying to make that shot since I've been here. After it went in, I started screaming GOALLL!!!! like I had just scored in the World Cup. Coincidentally, my "goal" and yelling came at the exact moment Peru was playing Venezuela in a World Cup qualifier. I was yelling so loud, all the Peruvian students in the school thought Peru had scored a goal in the game, and were cheering in their classes. I had to go back into the school and break the bad news that Peru hadn't scored, and that I was celebrating my own pathetic success. It was kind of funny, though, in an ironic way. I guess. Luckily, Peru ended up winning the match 2-1.
I hang out Saturday mornings with landlord Juan's cleaning lady's little kids -- two cute girls. We play hide and seek and I show them pictures and videos on my laptop. It's fun stuff. One of those little unexpected joys in life.
I rarely drink alcohol here. On Fridays, I'll have 2 or 3 pisco sours, and that's it for the week. For whatever reason, I had my usual Friday night prescription of piscos and they hit me like a 4-hour grammar lesson. Getting old I guess. Or maybe it's the altitude. That's it, it's the altitude.

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.

Still a sol

I'm going to teach again in Peru. In fact, I'm here now, and will get my teaching schedule next week. Saw some of the old gang, and renewed acquaintances. Good stuff. I'm here again, really, because timing seems to be everything. The day after I committed to return to Arequipa, I got an email to interview for a teaching job in Turkey that I had applied for a couple of weeks before. It was in a town called Gaziantep, one of the oldest cities in the world located fairly close to the Syrian border. I had to tell them I had taken a job in Peru. On my way down here, a friend texts me with a strong lead on a job in the Delaware public school system. I had to tell him I was on my way to Peru (actually I got the message while hanging around the Miami airport). My trip here started with a very pleasant train ride from Wilmington, Del., to Baltimore. The flight from BWI to Miami was smooth, as was the flight from Miami to Lima. But I was just a bit tardy for my Lima to Arequipa flight and had to hang around the Lima airport for 12 hours until the next flight. That flight got delayed an hour, just for spite I think, but I made it to Arequipa 6 p.m. Wednesday. I left Delaware 12:30 p.m. Tuesday. I arrived at Juan's house where I'll be living again, but he wasn't home yet, so I wandered down to the Puente Grau and saw the anticuchos lady and young Guadalupe. Smiles and high-fives all the way around. And four anticuchos sticks as well. A man's got to eat. Went back to Juan's and got settled in my room (it's not the same room I had, which is fine. My old room bordered the street and the action sometimes got a little noisy). Today, I had lunch (beef soup, cow stomach, rice with potatoes) with landlord Juan at a lunch-only place on our street, and Juan even picked up the 7-sol tab. We're going to have lunch at a new place tomorrow. Saw the guy who owns the little shop on the corner, and he joked that I'm losing my fluency in English. Not much has really changed in the six months I've been away. Six pieces of very good pan de tres puntos (a kind of roll) is still a sol. Anticuchos is still a sol a stick. Juan still plays opera, and the trash truck still rings its bells loudly at 7 a.m. It's great to be back. Weather is great, of course. Needed a light jacket last night. Sunny and pleasant today. It'll be that way until the rainy season starts late December. Did I mention it's great to be back? I've posted a picture of a Hamilton (made only in Peru) cigarette pack cover to shock all of my young readers into never smoking. They're on all the brands here and some are pretty graphic and nasty.

Living the high(way) life

Since I've returned to Delaware three weeks ago I think I've put on about 10 pounds. Instead of walking a few miles each day like I did in Arequipa for six months, I'm now driving about 30 miles a day. I enjoy driving my car again sort of, but don't enjoy the $55 it takes to fill the tank. Gas prices keep rising, too. And since I've been back, I'm hitting all my old favorite food and beverage joints, like the Charcoal Pit, Grotto Pizza, Dunkin' Donuts, State Line Liquors (with its fabulous beer selection) and on and on. Some days I wander out to the state park along the Brandywine River nearby and hike around. Hopefully, I can post a picture. Found a Peruvian restaurant here, but it cost $7 for a side of potatoes with sauce. They gave me a free chicken "quarter" (when I told them about Arequipa) and it was OK, but I still miss the anticuchos and tres leches. Weather here has been pretty good lately, especially for February. Highs near 50 and lows around 30 (fahrenheit). It ain't Peru, though. Getting paperwork together to start substitute teaching. Not too difficult, but it's a bit of a process. I've been looking after my dad, who will be 97 in a week or so, and future travel plans are temporarily on hold, given his situation. I'm heading to Ohio on Wednesday to see my kids and a buddy in Yellow Springs, do my taxes, and renew my teacher's license. I can't wait to see my children. I think about them all the time. Of course, I worry every day about Jack, who's in Afghanistan now. We all know what's happening there currently. I really miss Peru and the people there, but's it's nice to see some old friends here. Yin and yang, I guess.

The trip -- and home

My return to the United States from Arequipa, Peru, was something of a long, strange trip. I left Arequipa on Sunday, Feb. 5, at 6:40 p.m., taking a Taca Airlines flight to Lima. Once I picked up my luggage in Lima I had some real time to kill. My next flight, to Panama City, departed at 3:04 a.m., meaning my layover was something like seven hours. Dullsville but uneventful. The flight to Panama was equally uneventful, other than the fact we got a pretty darn good roast beef sandwich on the plane. I had a three-hour layover in the pleasant Panama airport before departing for Nassau, Bahamas. The excitement, such as it was, took place at Nassau Airport. I was told to pick up my luggage, even though Taca told me my luggage was heading all the way to Philadelphia. A lady in Nassau was taking luggage off the conveyer belt and rolling it out onto the floor. All the bags looked pretty much the same, and I didn't see my bag. Time was ticking and I was getting a wee bit nervous about catching my flight to Philadelphia. Finally, I heard the woman screaming my name -- she had found my bag. I went through the British/Bahama customs aisle without incident, but I wasn't allowed to head toward U.S. customs. The gentleman there told me my ticket was not valid, and that I needed to be reissued a new one. I went back to the ticket counter to get a new ticket, but the lady told me the flight to Philly was closed. After some haggling, I convinced her I had reserved a seat, so she poked around on the computer, found my name and issued me a new ticket. One of the airline workers commented to me: "At first I thought you would be OK, but now I think you're going to miss your flight." I had less than 30 minutes before takeoff, and I still had to go through U.S. customs. The line was huge, of course, and there would be no way to reach my plane on time if I waited. So I walked to the front of the line, turned to the crowd, and pleaded my case. "If I don't cut in line, I miss my flight. I miss my kids." Everyone said they understood -- "We've all been there," one lady said. Awesome. I get to the customs agent about 10 minutes before takeoff. The little interview seemed to go OK until the guy keeps asking me why I was in Panama.  I told him the truth. That's the flight Orbit lined up for me. I tried to change it but had no luck. He told me to go into a side room. I go and there's two guys there. One takes my backpack and runs it though a scanner (about the fifth time it was scanned on the trip) and asks me if I know what's in there. I tell him some books, my computer, and a crucifix I bought in Peru. The other guy, who tells me his father was born in Peru, asks me what I was doing in Peru. I told him I was helping children .... learn English. I'm resigned to missing my flight at this point. But the guys tell me to go ahead and catch my flight. Turns out they were holding the plane for me. As I ran toward gate 41C, a lady yells, "It's Lord Millman. Lord Millman coming." Lord Millman. My family and friends would have been so proud. When I entered the plane, everyone gave me the awkward eye, obviously not pleased to have their flight held up. I'm thinking, "But I'm "Lord Millman." After the little drama, my uneventful flight landed in Philly at 4:40 p.m. on Monday, Feb. 6. Back in the U.S. after seven wonderful months in Peru. It snowed Tuesday here, and it's snowing, raining and sleeting tonight (Saturday, Feb. 10). No place like home.