annual not-very-deep blog entry

Recent happenings:

Been spending 3-4 nights at a time out in Naranjo, the village where I’m doing my composting “eco” bathroom project. We broke ground in September, and the local workers picked it up quickly. We’re nearing the finish line of 50 units (give or take), and I’ve been running around building the special toilet seats as the maestros finish each one. It’s been a crazy couple months, and I’m admittedly running myself ragged. But we’re so close. Shooting for early-December inaugural shits.

Got back into The Wire after a several-month hiatus, mostly due to the fact that in Naranjo I stay in the health post alone every night. Watched most of Season Four in two nights. God, what a show.

Went to Lima for a week of training at the Peace Corps office with several other soon-to-be Third Year Volunteers. Met the regional coordinator who works in Ica, where I’ll be next year, and she seems very sharp and super excited about working together, as both of our positions are brand-new there. I think we can do a lot of good things down there. Excited about the change – change of people, responsibilities, culture, and proximity to other volunteers. Not that stoked about moving out of the green mountains and into the sweltering coastal desert in an earthquake zone.

Also did my end of service medical check while in Lima. Went to the dentist. Pooped in a cup. Waiting to find out if I picked up any parasites this year. Under/over is three.

A group of ten new Water & Sanitation volunteers from Peru 16 came up from Lima for Field-Based Training. We built some baños, checked up on some latrines built a few years back by another volunteer, and they learned that we eat all carbs in the mountains.

Had another visit, by my friend Meg and her roommate from Jackson, WY. Anne came, too. That was great.

Took away the hat I gave to my four-year old brother when I caught him pissing on the front porch and then refused to apologize or acknowledge me. Then caught him trying to break into my room to steal it back. Little punk.

My fifteen-year old brother got kicked out of school for bringing a condom to class and then blowing it up like a balloon and bouncing it all over the room. Thought he would get the belt from dad for sure, but somehow convinced him that he was innocent. Smart little punk.

After months of internal debate, I stopped fighting it. The ‘stache is back, and with a vengeance.

Discovered Jerry Jeff Walker. Not sure how he evaded me all these years, but I’ve got me a new favorite artist.

Took the crew of high-schoolers who I’ve taught to play basketball from scratch over to Santo Domingo for the second annual Alto Piura Challenge. Smoked ‘em. Twice. Eat it, Ryan.

Finished two of the three books I was reading, and added another. Finished: The Call of the Wild and White Fang, and The Bottom Billion, by economist Paul Collier about the poverty traps that the poorest countries are stuck in. Started: The Right Stuff by Tom Wolffe. So there’s a lot of weird stuff going on in my head right now, especially when you throw The Wire in there, too. What would London (and by extension, Darwin and Marx) have to say about the fact that one-sixth of the world’s population seems doomed by their natural environment and other conditions? I’m not sure we even want to know. How would hot shot rocket pilots of the 60s see their role in the process of evolution and natural selection? (Judging by their supreme level of awesome cockiness, I’d bet most would esteem themselves wielders of some innate, untouchable quality separating them from the rest of mankind). What about the constant threat of violent death for the characters in The Wire? Are drug wars about survival of the fittest, or just luck? Or both, which would make it only that much more Darwinian? Next on the table: A Confederacy of Dunces, A People’s History of the United States, and Don’t Sleep, There are Snakes by this guy who discovered an Amazonian tribe that uses a language with no distinction between past and present and future, and lived with them for seven years or something. It’s only gonna get weirder upstairs, folks.

Remembered that my unfinished world map hasn’t been touched since about August.

Was served French fries three times in one week out in Naranjo. I’m talking real, thick steak fries. Potatoes nonetheless, but in no way resembling the boiled variety.

The gypsies came to town again (see blog entry from this time last year). I didn’t mind them as much this time. Got a legit Barcelona jersey out of the deal, even.

My two site replacements got here for a visit. Both are awesome people, and ready to work. But it’s very odd, unsettling really, to be realizing that I’m leaving soon and will actually be replaced.

Other signs that my time here is waning:

- My host dad broke down and sobbed about it. Granted, he’d been drinking for several hours, but unexpected nonetheless.

- My abuelita gave me a hand-woven shoulder bag that she had had made for me. Seriously an awesome gift.

- Had two pairs of work pants wear out in the same week. Gotta be a sign of some kind.

- People are talking about the epic goodbye party that is in the works.

- I’ve found myself giving away my stuff, bit by bit. There’s only one guy in all of Chalaco whose feet and bodily dimensions are anywhere near mine – my leaving is gonna be like Christmas for him.

- Spent over 100 soles (one-ninth of my monthly stipend) on pictures I had printed up to give away to people in the next few weeks.

- Instead of having to repeat hundreds of times where I'm from, now it's having to repeat where I'm going and why I can't stay and find me a chica to settle down with.