So while in Peru, I have an objective to try everything and seize all opportunities. Naturally trying out for the University's Division I basketball team fell into that category. Now, I realize it's been 10 years since I played organized basketball, and that I'm kinda getting up there in age to have hoop dreams of winning a national championship; never-the-less I had an objective, a rule of life to follow. So last Tuesday, I stepped out onto the court in my running shoes, shorts and a tank top, desperately hoping that I wouldn't break and ankle or make an ass of myself in some other gringa way. As far as physical fitness goes, I felt confident (maybe a little too much according to my hip flexors) in my abilities to keep up; after all I'm a marathon runner and personall trainer!
Practice began with a series of passing drills with weighted medicine balls. We had to dribble and pass, just the basics if you will. I was by far stronger than any of the girls there which was evident since no one could catch my passes. After that we spent the next hour and 20 minutes doing fast break drills. Let me explain this in a little more detail; we sprinted up and down the court for the next hour and 20 minutes making lay ups as we reached the opposite end while the coach yelled at us to move faster. Now it wasn't so much the sprinting that I minded, or the ludicracy of doing pointless "race to the other end of the court" drills that had nothing to do with the real game of basketball, rather it was the yelling I couldn't tolerate. He only yelled at me when I would run to the wrong side of the opposite end of the court (he changed the drill up a bit... ya know to simulate the game), but still it inferiated me! After an hour and a half of the three hour practice I told him I had to leave to study (which really was true). As I rode the hour bus ride back home, I tried to understand why his yelling pissed me off so much?! I mean I was in the Navy for 6 years, it's not like it's been that long since I was treated like a child. But that was it; I could not stand being talked to as if I were inferior to him. As if I were not his equal. After a conversation with Chris, it did occur to me that I probably also had an issue because he was an idiot and knew nothing about basketball. As Chris asked "if it were coach K, I'm sure you wouldn't have minded the yelling?" Which of course was true. Yet still, I felt disrespected. So that's when it dawned on me that I'm old. Too old to sprint up and down the court while some morron yells at me, and all for what? To waste the precious time I have here, when there are far more important things I should be doing?
At last, once again I have retired from organized basketball. It was a fun and exciting thought that I could play Division I ball at the age of 26, but as I discovered I'm just a little too old for these games.
...I can say, I made the team though; and only after an hour and a half of sprinting - guess my body's not too old!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Changing the World
Today I went to Cesar Vallejo to work the medical campaign of WorldVision. In a matter of 6 hours, a small number of volunteers and 6 doctors weighed, measured, diagnosed, and handed out medicine to nearly 300 children living in or around the Cesar Vallejo area.
A little bit about Cesar Vallejo: Extreme poverty doesn't quite describe the living conditions. Like a large portion of Lima, C.V. is a pueblito or a small town formed by transients and emmigrants who come to Lima looking for work. The houses are hand crafted, made from the finest left over wood, corregated cardboard, tarps, and any other trash that can be converted into building material. Most residents (especially the one's on the top of the hills) lack electricity, plumbing, paved roads, access to potable water, and most other basic necessities. Packs of mean wild stray dogs roam the streets and roof tops, claiming the shanty town as their territory and threatening those who pass. Employment... doesn't exist, and schools are few and far between.
The kids of C.V.: They're just like kids anywhere; funny, shy, rambunctious, loud, crying, coughing, sniffiling, whinning, loving, grateful, nervous, awkward, curious, the list goes on... They were dressed with America written all over them; that's to say they wore t-shirts that said "barbie, gi joe, aeropostale, old navy..." all from like 5 seasons ago and very worn but they were happy to be wearing them. I asked a little girl who had the quintessential barbie (blonde hair, blue eyes) on her shirt if she liked Barbie, the little girl didn't own a barbie but said she liked her.
Just as I was curious about them, they were very curious about me. My white skin was like a coffee stain on a wedding dress. A little girl about 3 years old touched my arm the whole time I filled out her paper work. Other's asked where I was from, and lit up when I told them U.S. A little boy about 9yrs old asked me if the U.S. was pretty. I told him it was very pretty and asked if he wanted to go there one day, to which he exclaimed with bright eyes "Si!". For the most part, they all just stared, only few had the courage to talk to the gringa.
Of the 300 or so kids, 2 had downs syndrom, 1 appeared to have cancer, and over half were anemic. On a high note though, most were vaccinated and were receiving medical care (thanks to WorldVision). They were all grateful and appreciative even after having to wait in the hot sun before getting their turn.
As great as this experience was (and will continue to be since I'm working for WorldVision) it was also deflating. I've been thinking since I got here about my goal of changing the world... It's pretty lofty, and the more I see, the less attainable it appears. I'm not saying I'm quiting - not at all; but rather reevaluating how to go about this and exactly what "change" is possible. What I'm getting at here is that I realize the whole world isn't going to live like we do in the U.S. Rather, sticking to the basics: food, water, shelter, education, health care, and safety - you know the bottom part of that pyramid.
What I do know is that no matter where you volunteer; it's always the volunteer who get's more out of it then the recipient.
A little bit about Cesar Vallejo: Extreme poverty doesn't quite describe the living conditions. Like a large portion of Lima, C.V. is a pueblito or a small town formed by transients and emmigrants who come to Lima looking for work. The houses are hand crafted, made from the finest left over wood, corregated cardboard, tarps, and any other trash that can be converted into building material. Most residents (especially the one's on the top of the hills) lack electricity, plumbing, paved roads, access to potable water, and most other basic necessities. Packs of mean wild stray dogs roam the streets and roof tops, claiming the shanty town as their territory and threatening those who pass. Employment... doesn't exist, and schools are few and far between.
The kids of C.V.: They're just like kids anywhere; funny, shy, rambunctious, loud, crying, coughing, sniffiling, whinning, loving, grateful, nervous, awkward, curious, the list goes on... They were dressed with America written all over them; that's to say they wore t-shirts that said "barbie, gi joe, aeropostale, old navy..." all from like 5 seasons ago and very worn but they were happy to be wearing them. I asked a little girl who had the quintessential barbie (blonde hair, blue eyes) on her shirt if she liked Barbie, the little girl didn't own a barbie but said she liked her.
Just as I was curious about them, they were very curious about me. My white skin was like a coffee stain on a wedding dress. A little girl about 3 years old touched my arm the whole time I filled out her paper work. Other's asked where I was from, and lit up when I told them U.S. A little boy about 9yrs old asked me if the U.S. was pretty. I told him it was very pretty and asked if he wanted to go there one day, to which he exclaimed with bright eyes "Si!". For the most part, they all just stared, only few had the courage to talk to the gringa.
Of the 300 or so kids, 2 had downs syndrom, 1 appeared to have cancer, and over half were anemic. On a high note though, most were vaccinated and were receiving medical care (thanks to WorldVision). They were all grateful and appreciative even after having to wait in the hot sun before getting their turn.
As great as this experience was (and will continue to be since I'm working for WorldVision) it was also deflating. I've been thinking since I got here about my goal of changing the world... It's pretty lofty, and the more I see, the less attainable it appears. I'm not saying I'm quiting - not at all; but rather reevaluating how to go about this and exactly what "change" is possible. What I'm getting at here is that I realize the whole world isn't going to live like we do in the U.S. Rather, sticking to the basics: food, water, shelter, education, health care, and safety - you know the bottom part of that pyramid.
What I do know is that no matter where you volunteer; it's always the volunteer who get's more out of it then the recipient.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
$20 bill
As is common with many Latin American families, there is usually a person who takes care of the house; a housekeeper if you will. The house where I live is no different. Her name is Carmen, she is 36 years old, never been married and has worked here for the last 7 years. She lives here in a room above a storage shed which is located next to the house but not connected. She stays here Sunday night-Friday 24/7. Her chores include, cleaning the entire house everyday (bathrooms, kitchen, common spaces, etc.). She does the laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, and anything else that the lady of the house (the owner Ana) wants or requests. She is not required to clean up after me or the other 3 students living here, nor does she do any cooking or laundry for us but she will if asked.
Carmen as a person is one of the most innocent, kind, generous, grateful human beings I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She always has a smile and is eager to help with whatever is needed. I've spent many hours talking to her, well she does a lot of the talking and I listen mostly. She's very facinated with the U.S., she loves american clothes and programs that are dubbed in Spanish. What she does know about the U.S. she gets from TV:(. So I try to debunk some of the common myths and give her a little bit rounder perspective of this far away dream land.
Carmen has never traveled outside of Lima. This means that in two weeks I have seen more of her country then she has in 36 years. I asked her why she's never traveled and she said "por plata" - because of money. To give you a reference, I took a bus to Ica (about 5 hours south) to go sandboarding last weekend, the trip there and back cost me 65soles ($21). As you can imagine this surprised me emmensly that it was so cheap yet not cheap enough for Carmen. In the states I know there are people who have never left their state or been on an airplane, but to never leave the city you live in - I've never encountered such a person.
Of course my next thought was, how much does she get paid to live and work in this house? I asked a few of my friends from school what the norm was for this type of work, around 400 maybe 500 soles/month - that's less than $200/month. After taking in this information I tried to figure out her cost of living (after all she lives here 5 days of the week). So I concluded that her cost of living probably isn't very high - really cause she's not doing to much living.
In a later conversation Carmen told me that on the weekends she takes turns with her sister looking after their mother who has some sort of phsycosis problem which requires constant monitoring and medication. Then it really hit me just how little money, material wealth, and life she has.
So I hired Carmen to do my laundry and change my sheets once a week, and sweep my room a couple times a week. I told her to name the price but she wouldn't, she asked me to tell her what's fair. So I asked her if $15/week was okay. She responded with a huge smile on her face and said, "si Bianca si, este es bien, muy bien!" (very good), then she asked if I was going to pay her in dollars or soles and I said dollars, needless to say this elated her greatly. Tuesday I made my first payment. I gave her a $20 and said that I'll give her a $10 the next week (it's not convenient to break bills here). She took the $20 and looked at it as if it were a rare jewel. She moved it around in her hands, folding it and feeling the texture. Then she held it up to the light and studied the water marks and the colors. After close inspection, she looked at me with a huge smile and said in Spanish, "I've seen $20 bills but I've never actually had one of my own." I told her. "It's yours, you earned it." She then told me that she was going to go put it in a safe place. As she walked away, $20 pressed firmly against her chest, I realized what a huge moment that was for her, and me. I will never forget the way her face lit up and how carefully she examined the bill. How extremely proud and happy she was to get a $20. I've only seen that same expression on children when they receive a present that they've yearned for.
Needless to say, this experience changed me too.
Carmen as a person is one of the most innocent, kind, generous, grateful human beings I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She always has a smile and is eager to help with whatever is needed. I've spent many hours talking to her, well she does a lot of the talking and I listen mostly. She's very facinated with the U.S., she loves american clothes and programs that are dubbed in Spanish. What she does know about the U.S. she gets from TV:(. So I try to debunk some of the common myths and give her a little bit rounder perspective of this far away dream land.
Carmen has never traveled outside of Lima. This means that in two weeks I have seen more of her country then she has in 36 years. I asked her why she's never traveled and she said "por plata" - because of money. To give you a reference, I took a bus to Ica (about 5 hours south) to go sandboarding last weekend, the trip there and back cost me 65soles ($21). As you can imagine this surprised me emmensly that it was so cheap yet not cheap enough for Carmen. In the states I know there are people who have never left their state or been on an airplane, but to never leave the city you live in - I've never encountered such a person.
Of course my next thought was, how much does she get paid to live and work in this house? I asked a few of my friends from school what the norm was for this type of work, around 400 maybe 500 soles/month - that's less than $200/month. After taking in this information I tried to figure out her cost of living (after all she lives here 5 days of the week). So I concluded that her cost of living probably isn't very high - really cause she's not doing to much living.
In a later conversation Carmen told me that on the weekends she takes turns with her sister looking after their mother who has some sort of phsycosis problem which requires constant monitoring and medication. Then it really hit me just how little money, material wealth, and life she has.
So I hired Carmen to do my laundry and change my sheets once a week, and sweep my room a couple times a week. I told her to name the price but she wouldn't, she asked me to tell her what's fair. So I asked her if $15/week was okay. She responded with a huge smile on her face and said, "si Bianca si, este es bien, muy bien!" (very good), then she asked if I was going to pay her in dollars or soles and I said dollars, needless to say this elated her greatly. Tuesday I made my first payment. I gave her a $20 and said that I'll give her a $10 the next week (it's not convenient to break bills here). She took the $20 and looked at it as if it were a rare jewel. She moved it around in her hands, folding it and feeling the texture. Then she held it up to the light and studied the water marks and the colors. After close inspection, she looked at me with a huge smile and said in Spanish, "I've seen $20 bills but I've never actually had one of my own." I told her. "It's yours, you earned it." She then told me that she was going to go put it in a safe place. As she walked away, $20 pressed firmly against her chest, I realized what a huge moment that was for her, and me. I will never forget the way her face lit up and how carefully she examined the bill. How extremely proud and happy she was to get a $20. I've only seen that same expression on children when they receive a present that they've yearned for.
Needless to say, this experience changed me too.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
3:30 AM
As the title indicates, I am writing this at 3:30 A.M. Not out of choice am I writing instead of sleeping, rather it's out of fear. Fear that while I sleep a giant cockroach is going to crawl in my bed and snuggle up, or possibly eat my ear drum for a late night snack (that happened to a woman I know)! I tried for a while to kill Juan (I named him so he would seem less intimidating) but to no avail. He is fast and knows all the crevices in my room to escape. Needless to say, living conditions in the richest district of a large city in a less developed country are not up to my American standards.
In fact most things are not up to any kind of standard or code here. For instance there is literally thousands of old taxi's and buses (like circa 1950) that run off of natural gas (gets almost twice as many kmt to the litre). Obviously this causes tremendous amounts of smog which I'm told is going to get expedentially worse when the clouds roll in for winter creating a layer of smog that constantly hovers over the city for 6 months.
I have only been here 6 days and everyday I wake with a sore throat, headache and a cough. But in keeping with my standard of living, I run in the morning taking in the beautiful Pacific ocean and choking every step of the way. I cannot imagine what it's going to feel like when I step back on American soil and can breath again! It literally feels like I smoke a carton of cigarettes every day! Lima makes New York City seem like the of backwoods of Montana.
The taxis and buses are like weapons of mass destruction, but not only for their toxins. No, crossing the street is like playing Russian roulette - which seems to be quite popular based on the number of pedestrians I saw crossing the Panamerican highway during the middle of rushour! People are literally inches away from being hit by cars/buses that seem to increase their speed when pedestrians dash for the other side. I've been told by natives that hitting a pedestrian only matters if you kill them; apparently anything less isn't a big deal. I wish I would have know this game before I got here; I could have been practicing my 40yard dash instead of my 10mile time.
The other dangers of the superior quality public transportation here in Lima, are the high probabilities of being robbed, kidnapped, and/or raped. This is something that was explained by my taxi driver with great emphasis the night I arrived and was reiterated today at my University orientation. I have heard countless stories in just 5 days of these accounts. For instance, a fellow student from UWM was robbed of everything he had the first day he got here. Luckily for him, he was crazy enough to follow the theives and all important things (passport and wallet) he got back; but only after a 5 hour wild goose chase through Lima.
Public transportation is just one of many things I have found not so accomadating here in Lima. More to come, I'm sure of it.
In fact most things are not up to any kind of standard or code here. For instance there is literally thousands of old taxi's and buses (like circa 1950) that run off of natural gas (gets almost twice as many kmt to the litre). Obviously this causes tremendous amounts of smog which I'm told is going to get expedentially worse when the clouds roll in for winter creating a layer of smog that constantly hovers over the city for 6 months.
I have only been here 6 days and everyday I wake with a sore throat, headache and a cough. But in keeping with my standard of living, I run in the morning taking in the beautiful Pacific ocean and choking every step of the way. I cannot imagine what it's going to feel like when I step back on American soil and can breath again! It literally feels like I smoke a carton of cigarettes every day! Lima makes New York City seem like the of backwoods of Montana.
The taxis and buses are like weapons of mass destruction, but not only for their toxins. No, crossing the street is like playing Russian roulette - which seems to be quite popular based on the number of pedestrians I saw crossing the Panamerican highway during the middle of rushour! People are literally inches away from being hit by cars/buses that seem to increase their speed when pedestrians dash for the other side. I've been told by natives that hitting a pedestrian only matters if you kill them; apparently anything less isn't a big deal. I wish I would have know this game before I got here; I could have been practicing my 40yard dash instead of my 10mile time.
The other dangers of the superior quality public transportation here in Lima, are the high probabilities of being robbed, kidnapped, and/or raped. This is something that was explained by my taxi driver with great emphasis the night I arrived and was reiterated today at my University orientation. I have heard countless stories in just 5 days of these accounts. For instance, a fellow student from UWM was robbed of everything he had the first day he got here. Luckily for him, he was crazy enough to follow the theives and all important things (passport and wallet) he got back; but only after a 5 hour wild goose chase through Lima.
Public transportation is just one of many things I have found not so accomadating here in Lima. More to come, I'm sure of it.
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