Christmas, Here I Come!

I am a living fungal parasite.

First they tell me that the rash on my forehead is from fungus and that the fungus is probably causing the tiny rashes on my back (that I thought were just spots from being sunburnt).

Then they say that the reason I've been discovering more than 10 random bug bites all over my body every morning is because mites have invaded my body, are living under my skin (which is why they aren't contagious), moving around and causing allergic reactions. Scabies. Which is so hard to believe because when Maria was getting bitten by invisible fleas during the first couple of months, I didn't catch a thing from all the rural towns we were visiting!

But this fungal parasite starts her Christmas vacation in a week and is going to relax on the beach whether she's all fungied up or not. =)

Parenting 101

Recently, parents have confided in Sara and I, asking for our advice on parenting, which felt ridiculous as a 23-year-old who neither has the appropriate experience, nor thinks about the subject often (if at all), nor has formally learned about parenting.

Think on these situations. Imagine what I may have been thinking when asked. Imagine the general sentiment here in Peru - an infinite amount of trust in whoever is introduced as a "specialist" and the possible lack of open conversation or education on the subject of parenting.

1. Last week my nephew hit my son. Since then my son has been reacting to all new people he meets by hitting them. How do I erase information that he's already learned from imitating others?

2. My wife gave my son a bag of chocolates the other day and he started eating the whole bag even though it should have been shared with everyone in the family. So my wife took the chocolates away from him - then, of course, my son to start crying. It hurt so bad as a parent to see him cry so I gave the chocolates back to him. Who was right, my wife or me?

3. What is the best music to let my 2-year-old son listen to? I heard classical music was good for neonatals, but how about young children? The only problem is, my son won't put up with classical music. He'll only listen to reggaeton because that's the type of music that his father loves.

4. What do you think about those Baby Einstein videos? I heard that they really help to make your child smarter.

5. My little sister always wants to rush to eat during mealtimes even though we try to explain to her that the potato is still steaming hot, for example. My mom always tells us to rush and cool down the potatoes so she can eat, but I say that we should let her learn for herself (i.e. let her touch the hot potato) or just keep the potato away even though she continues to cry. Who's right?

6. My baby sister always enters my room and starts rummaging through and destroying all my make-up. How do I teach her what things she shouldn't do? How do I break her bad habits?

Me: How should I know?! I'm just a kid! Sheesh!

The Protest

My parents, being the best-est parents in the world, came to visit me for my birthday. It was a tight 3 days they were going to be here and as much as I wanted things to go perfectly, things never seem to go as planned in Huancayo. (As a side note, I have decided that I will always plan future vacations for more than 2 weeks). Not only did things not go as planned, but during the few days they were here, my parents and I experienced a series of firsts.

The Saturday evening my parents arrived, we had planned to go out for a birthday dinner, but it started to rain hard. It would be the first of three days in a row that it would hail golf balls in the afternoon. They say it was the first time it had ever hailed so much in Huancayo.

I had planned Sunday to be as Huancaino as possible, which is what my parents wanted - first, the patriotic flag ceremony in the main plaza and the parade that follows, led by the military's band. I've seen at least part of the parade almost every Sunday because I love that community feel when all the families come out, kids running around, buying paper hats and ice cream. So, my parents and I are out there, ready and on time to see the whole thing, but the flags are already up, no ceremony. Turns out, it was the day of the yearly "Marathon of the Andes." They had suspended the flag ceremony for the day to cheer on the exhausted runners who had started from Jauja.

On the Monday, the last full day my parents would be here, I had to go to work. I left early in the morning for Jauja where we were doing some home visits, finished as quickly as possible and was on my way home by noon so I could spend the rest of the afternoon with my parents. The only thing stopping us from getting back were a million huge stones, lit up tires, and tree trunks lying across the highway - the 2,500 citizens of Concepción (a city pretty up in between Huancayo and Jauja) were protesting all the garbage Huancayo was dumping in their little town. It was my first time experiencing a protest. We walked for two hours past all the vehicles, past all the road obstructions, past the crowd of protestors, past the police on the other side with their body-length shields, to the part of the highway where cars were finally moving.

Thankfully - although the protest continued through the rest of the week - my parents were able to get out of Huancayo safely and on schedule. Thanks for coming to visit, mum and dad!

A Thousand Miles

I have spent a lot of time lately, walking. I used to know a guy in Japan who would walk for miles and miles, just wandering, and I always wondered how he did it. How can someone not bore themselves to death just walking around the city for hours on end? He would come back from his walks and tell us how beautiful the cherry blossoms were in a certain part of town he had discovered or what kinds of shadows the sun makes on the hills as the sun sets. In Japan, I remember thinking, what a bore nature is. I wanted to be able to appreciate nature so bad, but I couldn’t find the time; I didn’t care to find the time to slow down.

So I’ve been slowing down here and walking from place to place, almost an hour each way. As of now, I am still consumed by the following three thoughts: “Holy bejeezus, this walk is taking forever,” “My feet hurt,” and “Am I there yet?” It’s just another example of how I am so stuck on the end result, on crossing things off of my to-do list, that I don’t know how to just walk anymore.

I’m not willing to leave things unorganized. I’m not ready to just let things be. As I walk, I realize how many houses are left unfinished. In Vancouver, I see unfinished buildings and the rush to finish construction, the rush to complete the perfection that the city is to be by the time the Olympics arrive in 2010. In Huancayo, I see unfinished buildings… as unfinished buildings. That’s just the way they are, sometimes for months or years as the family struggles to earn more money, sometimes forever.

And it makes me think of the thirty houses I’ve visited in and around the city of different types of families – different structure, different situations, different economic levels. But I’ve found that the majority of families live in houses that I would consider messy or dirty. To them, it’s okay that there are a million utensils in the kitchen out of place or forever without a place, it’s okay that all their mugs are cracked or chipped in some way, it’s okay that there are irremovable stains everywhere – in the tiles of the floor, in the cabinets, the dressers, the stove, the walls. It’s okay that their closet is actually a shelf with a blanket over top, tilted a bit and never perfectly covering the entire shelf. It’s okay if there are a million projects in-progress that may never be finished. It is a situation that would normally make me go insane, but I am learning to relax.

Skills I've Learned

My professor from Canada came to visit for a whirlwind week and packed in...

• A 2-day conference on infant stimulation that we’ve been planning for months
  
• A full day of hardcore bulk shopping in the Sunday fair that spans more than 30 city blocks of the main street through Huancayo (mostly jewellery for her and millions of other trinkets that her son can sell back home),
  
• And the rest of the week was spent doing full days of research with babies and toddlers in San Pedro de Saño (a little town just outside of the big city)
  

Part of her assignment here was to conduct mid-internship Coady interviews individually with Maria and me. The question that had me thinking went something like this: “What skills have you learned from your internship that will benefit you in your future work?” Skills, skills, skills. The first skills that came to mind when I thought of what I’ve learned here in Huancayo had nothing to do with my internship. I thought of how I could now fill the kettle without it spilling in pitch darkness, notice the slight difference in sound when the water had started boiling, and how my internal clock knew when the 10 minutes of boiling time was up (to be sure the water was purified) because I do this every morning to make my coca tea. I thought of how I skilled I was at doing laundry by hand (well, sorta). I thought of how I learned to keep an apartment clean (because Maria made me, just kidding – sorta; she was the positive influence, that’s what I meant). And I’d like to say that I can now cook, but just the other day, I suggested we add mango pieces to our past dish and Maria said that it would never work. =P It is not a skill that will take a much longer time for me to learn, I’m afraid.

In any case, I had to think twice to respond to the actual question. What skills had I learned? Not just any skill, but something that will benefit me in my future field? I’ve learned a heck of a lot about international development – which I didn’t even know existed prior to arriving in Nova Scotia for training – but to be honest, I’m not so sure I’ll be involved in this field in the future. It had to be something more abstract.

Then, it came to me. “Flexibility and patience,” I answered. It is a skill to be able to get along with people from other cultures, whether it’s the Dutch (there is the couple who started the NGO and the other two volunteers from the Netherlands) or the wide variety of Peruvians here (of different ages, ethnic backgrounds, and lifestyles). It’s about learning to accept differences, personal boundaries, and idiosyncrasies, taking everything in with an open attitude instead of succumbing to the natural temptation to judge. For me personally, it was also what I needed in order to learn the language – flexibility in the choice of words (because not every phrase can be translated literally) and patience with myself as I made a million mistakes.

As I thought of that, I realized that another skill I had developed (that I had wanted to develop) was the ability to laugh at myself. Recently, we (the interns in all the different corners of the world) were sent the letters we had written to ourselves at the beginning of everything, in July when we were still in Nova Scotia. I had written, “I hope you learn to laugh at yourself.” I think I had to lose the fear of embarrassing myself especially when you’re learning to speak a foreign language because it’s bound to happen that you’ll be telling someone, “Can I feel myself here?” (sentirme) instead of “Can I sit here?” (sentarme).

It seems to me that a fundamental issue many have once they start working full-time is that they stress out hardcore, they take things personally, they take things too seriously, and they start thinking only about themselves and their dissatisfaction. This is when these skills will come into play in my future work: flexibility (letting things be as they are instead of always fitting things into a certain schedule or plan), patience (with myself as I know that I will inevitably make mistakes and I will be the most conscious of this if I ever find myself in a more senior position, with higher expectations of myself and more susceptible to being intolerant of my blunders), and the ability to laugh at myself (to keep relaxed in this way, living life light-heartedly so that I have a balanced relationship with myself, my co-workers, my family, and my friends).

Conference Brainstorming

Here in Huancayo, the people come together. Every Sunday morning, for example, there is always a huge gathering of the public at the central plaza for the izamiento (the patriotic raising of the flags - the national flag of Peru, the flag of Huancayo, and the flag of the representative institution of the week). Each flag is held in preparation by three different groups of people. It is beautiful to see these groups coming together in their respective uniforms - the national police, municipal government officials, and elementary/secondary school students. The event is always followed by the march of the national police accompanied by the army (who has their own band) and usually another parade by the students.

It was like this – a coming-together – when we hosted a two-day workshop for infant specialists in and around Huancayo. Our goal was to bring together a varied group of “specialists” to brainstorm, share, and discuss ideas for a pilot program we intend to develop and implement with the sixty infants whose development we have already assessed in months earlier. Imagine a university professor, project supervisors of NGOs and regional government programs for children and families, their field workers, nurses, daycare teachers, and mothers (one a librarian and the other a market vendor) putting their heads together to identify key issues and come up with potential solutions.

It was, in fact, one of the primary themes that emerged from the workshop – the call for interdisciplinary teamwork. There was already a lot of good work going on and many pre-existing programs set up by different institutions for different needs, but the lack of unity between these institutions meant that a lot of babies-at-risk were lost in the transitional phases and there was often a complete absence of support for infants during their key years of development (from 0-3 years of age). Better interdisciplinary action also meant that mothers needed to be trusted and encouraged to be more involved. We witnessed an interesting dynamic enfold during the workshop as it became clear that the professor was dominating group discussions and often used academic or theoretical speak whereas we were looking for practicality and utility. The mothers later divulged that they felt out of place and uncomfortable asking questions or sharing their opinion.

We had our workshop moderator take more control over the professor’s comments while publicly encouraging the mothers to speak up. We were missing out on so much – the mothers had so much share. There were grave concerns regarding prenatal care; many mothers were preoccupied that they had irreversibly damaged their children’s development solely because they had fought with their husbands or had been crying too much during the months of pregnancy. The mothers also admitted that they continued with their traditional customs. For example, though medical professionals recommend against the customary practice, farming mothers in the sierra (living in the central Andes mountain range) still typically enfold their newborn babies tightly in layers of cloth so that they are immobile. The babies are enrolled this way daily in a certain position – upright with arms down and fingers splayed – before the mothers head out to the fields so that no damage is done from all the movement incurred while the mothers engage in physical labour, carrying their babies on their backs. This method also protects the infants from the harsh cold of the elevation and it is said that these babies also grow up physically stronger.

As we wrapped up the workshop, the participants came to the joint conclusion that there was a need to go back to the basics, to rediscover the value of the Peruvian and Huancaino culture. Just as we brought together people of various backgrounds, levels of education, and life experience for the purpose of the workshop, so too we realized that we needed to mesh the different types of knowledge uncovered – the known and the foreign, the theories and the practicalities, the science and the beliefs, the modern and the traditional. It seems that growth and positive change occurs when there is dialogue and humility.

Panchos y Anticuchos

I thought it was about time to post another blog re: food in Huancayo. Every week or so, I spend time with Roy's family living the true vida peruana sometimes helping to prepare delish comida, but usually contributing as the official taste-tester. Here, I have had many opportunities to develop my skill of enjoying and appreciating food whether it's desayuno (breakfast), almuerzo (lunch), cena (dinner), or lonche (which sounds a lot like "lunch-y," but is actually a Peruvian term referring to something like an "evening tea + snack.") In the picture, I'm in San Carlos practicing skewering hot dogs (panchos) - it's actually a lot harder than it looks to skewer through the middle of the hot dog - while Roy's mom prepares the bloody cow hearts (anticuchos). Que rico!

Now that Maria's over her month of tummy trouble that hit her hardcore upon arrival in Huancayo, she's feeling good enough to get back into cooking (her usual refried beans - good thing we bought a blender) and experimenting with random tidbits we find in the mercado (market). A few weeks ago, we discovered how to take advantage of the booths in the mercado that are dedicated solely to condiments. These booths have huge bowls of liquids of different colours - creamy looking sauces, salsas, dark green yummy muck, mysterious spices, the works. All we have to do is tell the lady what we're cooking with (e.g. pasta with spinach) and she mixes a whole bunch of the liquids together to make a unique homemade sauce just for us! Amazing eh?

Another discovery - the cheese in Concepción (a town just outside of Huancayo). Whenever we run out, we take the trip out just to buy the fresh cheese from the milk factory there. I always get the queso fresco (literally, "fresh cheese"), then María and I share the stronger queso andino (Andean cheese) or queso hollandese (Dutch cheese).

It's also become a habit that one or both of us take the almost-daily trip to the panadería (bakery) just around the corner from our apartment to not only buy bread (petit pan for me, ciabatta for María) but also treat ourselves to a churro, which is nothing like the churros we know from Disneyland - these Peruvian churros are soft and filled with melted caramel. We always get them heated in the microwave there. I'm at the panadería so often that the ladies there know me by name and I always stop to chat with them a bit. I'm also good friends with the with the helado (ice cream) lady who I always wave to - even when I haven't been buying many ice cream bars lately because the weather is getting a lot colder. Then there's the esquina (corner) lady who sits at the corner of the street near our apartment who I always go to when I have a craving for my favourite Peruvian chocolate bar, Sublime. "Hola mamita!" I always call out to her like a true peruana and she always replies, "Hola chinitaaa!"

Speaking of being chinita (the little Chinese girl)... for those of you that were wondering, the visa-renewal-trip to Santiago, Chile was duber successful. Upon re-entry, I'm walking up to the Peruvian customs officer with my passport, forms, and officially signed documents stating that I'm a volunteer here so that I can get stamped for more than the 90 days they originally gave me, all shaking and nervous - and the first thing the officer says to me is the familiar, "Hola chinitaaa!" Of course you can stay in Peru for however long you want, he tells me. So he stamps me for 183 days - 3 days more than what I hear they usually give Canadians. All for being small-eyed. =)

First Taste

You will not believe where I am and what I am currently doing. I am sitting in what I like to call my dream suite. I am on the sixth floor of what used to be a glamorous hotel, now converted into a less glamorous hostel yet still classic and filled with character. I am in the middle of downtown Santiago, Chile. But it seems like Europe and now I have a real taste of the way Europe has been described to me by a friend of mine. The city as I've experienced it so far is incessantly busy, filled with pedestrians, lights, and action.

I stand at my balcony, looking down into the grand Plaza de Armas and I see the sidewalk cafés where I can relax and watch the people traffic go by. I see a gathering of goths in their self-designated section of downtown, men playing chess in the gazebo, a crowd gathering around a street entertainer, and everyone else milling about and around. I still hear the random ¨chinita¨ when someone wants to get my attention, but also loud music, the deep and hollow bongs of the grandfather clock, and the chileño accent that i have such a difficult time understanding because they drop a lot of their S's!

Oh, the chilenos... I have never seen so many different kinds of unique faces and of those, so many that have so much character, that spike the curiosity, that can tell a story with a single expression. If i had to base it on the people I've been observing - on these first impressions - I wouldn't be able to describe to you a typical chileno/a. I can't even begin to.

But really, I could and would prefer to stay here in my hostel for the rest of the long weekend and beyond. It's like a honeymoon deluxe, beautifully decorated, lots of glass = lots of light, plants/greens for freshness, high ceilings, antique furniture, classic books on the shelf, a fully-functioning yet quaint kitchen. A lady comes in to lay out a buffet on the dining table every morning for breakfast just for the three of us (Mike, María, and I). When we arrived, there was toast, a variety of marmelades, various flavours of tea for every mood imaginable, eggs, fruits, milk.

Then there's the private balcony that has the most amazing view of downtown Santiago - far enough up on the sixth floor to get the big picture, but close enough to the earth to be able to distinguish inidviduals chatting, kissing, hugging, waving, being. I could stand there at the balcony all day and just daydream. In fact, I could just be here in this hostel all day, curled up by one of the electric heaters and reading a classic. Or dragging an electric heater over to the computer and writing blog entries. Or taking a long, relaxing, and more importantly hot shower (the first time in months), staring up at the sky through the glass opening above.

I am so glad that I decided to travel.

Wisdom

The first phase of the project has finally come to an end. We have officially conducted sixty parent questionnaires in sixty homes to assess the general development of sixty babies. As we take our first peeks at the data we’ve collected and as we clarify and refine the approach for the second stage of the project (much to the surprise, confusion, and sometimes frustration of Maria and I), I have had more than a couple moments of the “What am I doing here?” sentiment.

There is first the “What am I doing here? I’m not right for this job. You have the wrong impression of me. Everyone has been introducing me as a ‘specialist,’ but that doesn’t mean my textbook knowledge is more valuable than your empirical experience. How can I give you advice on parenting? I’m not even a mother yet. I don’t think that I know enough to teach you anything new or to answer all of your questions properly. In fact, maybe I don’t know what I’m doing at all.”

Then there’s the “What am I doing here? I’m now realizing how massive this project is. How can we interpret the data properly? There is so much more that I need to know. Why do the mothers here behave the way they do? How much of this is attributable to culture? How much of the culture do I have yet to understand? How can I possibly contribute to this project if I don’t understand the people I’m studying? I should have locked myself in my room, reading about Peru, when I had the chance to in Nova Scotia. I should have at least travelled to Latin America before. I should have...”

Of the six different areas of development we evaluated, the most staggering outcome of the infant assessments was a clear deficit in infants’ social-emotional development. This area of development refers to their ability to manage or regulate their emotional and social behaviour in a way that society considers appropriate and acceptable. And this is where it gets tricky – what is “appropriate” and “acceptable” in this context and who decides?

Some examples of questions I had a difficult time consolidating:

1. One of the questions on the social-emotional questionnaire asks something along the lines of: “Can your baby calm him/herself within a certain period of time if you leave his/her side?” We found that a decent chunk of mothers responded no to this question, but we also noticed that many mothers didn’t seem to be worried that their baby could not “regulate his/her emotions” as we would say in child-development-speak. “No, of course my baby can’t be without me,” was a classic answer. At the same time, over 90% of the mothers were housewives (amas de casa) who spend almost 100% of their time with their babies. Is it so surprising that their babies are not accustomed to being alone?

2. Another question asks if the baby ever puts a banana to his ear, pretending it’s a telephone, or puts some other object on top of his head, pretending it’s a hat. I clearly remember one mother’s answer - in a tone suggesting that she was a little offended - which, to me, explains a common attitude towards pretending/imagination here, “If my baby knows it’s a banana, why would he use it as a telephone?” This strikes my “chicken and egg” curiosity – is this attitude a result of the living situation or does the lack of pretend play (which links to creativity) speak to the way people live here?

3. During some of the interviews, Maria and I would sometimes notice violence being encouraged. “Go hit the pig to scare it out of the house.” “Throw something at the dog so it’ll stop eating out of the garden.” This had implications for one of the social-emotional questions that asks if the infant or child is ever violent towards other children or animals. But being commanded to be violent towards animals in this way doesn’t necessarily imply an inherent violent nature, neither at this age nor in the future.

The question, then, is whether we can make solid conclusions about the infants’ social-emotional development if it may be considered acceptable and appropriate, at least in some of the towns we visited, for babies to be unable to regulate their emotions without their mothers, for babies to not engage in pretend play, and for babies to show occasional violence towards animals.

Part of me feels a little disillusioned – I knew I couldn’t come here and be a hero, but I’m now recognizing a small part of me that wanted to save the world. There is the temptation to say, “This is how it works where I come from. You’re doing it all wrong. You should do it this way,” and to be harshly honest, I have met my share of development specialists who harbour this attitude. For this reason alone, I’ve found that it’s so important for me to say “I don’t know” and to not be afraid of admitting it. I’m not sure what’s best for you. How can I tell you that the North American theories of parenting are best, let alone that they apply in this context? I can’t make the conclusion that you don’t love your child because you don’t spend a lot of time with him/her – your priorities are drastically different and I respect that needing to survive can be more important than finding time to play with your child.

So, I have come full circle back to the approach I knew I should have had from the beginning – ultimately, this is about sharing. It’s about taking advantage of what little time we do have here to exchange preoccupations, thoughts, and ideas. I learn from you as much as you learn from me. I dispel some of your unawareness of the importance of play, for example. and you teach me the importance of simplicity and working hard. Your knowledge is just as valuable as mine if not more valuable. I am honoured to absorb your wisdom.

Phase 1 Complete

This week, Maria and I are wrapping up phase one of our infant stimulation project in Peru – the individual home visits and infant assessments. We’ve visited five different towns in and around Huancayo, each with a very different feel and personality. Some random thoughts and experiences to summarize it all...

1. We gave a workshop in Paucar (one of the more rural towns) teaching moms how important it was to sing songs to and with their babies. I gave my first introductory lesson on the importance of singing to your children (speaking completely in Spanish - okay, it only lasted 2 minutes), then sang song after song, hitting the dry grass like martillos (hammers), pretending to be gusalinos (little worms), and acting out Dinky Dinky spider (no joke, that’s his name here!) Even with my sore throat, I belted out tune after screechy tune, not fully believing that there I was, leading this group of moms and their babies, singing in Spanish.

2. It was an adventure in every town, locating the mothers as most of the houses are S/N (sin numero = without number). Sara and I had a particularly interesting morning walking back and forth across chacras (farms) because different people we ran into told us that the other street was Avenida Andre Avelino Caceres. As there usually aren’t any street signs in more rural areas of town, street names are often painted on the sides of houses – and even then, we never found the street we were looking for. So we piled into the colectivo (like a taxi, but they let anyone on), thankful that we weren’t one of the five packed into the trunk, and headed on to the next home.

3. The moms in Chupaca had a bit more money and almost every family, good hosts as they were, either fed us or at least served us coke. I have never had so much gaseosa (pop) in my life and I don’t even particularly like soda. On top of all this, I already have a bladder problem and try to make sure not to drink too much when we’re going out to the towns all day. Little good that did.

4. Animals are a general theme of the houses we visited. There always seem to be dogs, hens, pigs, and cows running around, participating in the assessment sessions. Often, one can find guinea pig pens with guinea pigs of all kinds of colours, shapes, and sizes. And can someone tell me if the gallinas (hens) lay eggs wherever they want to since they’re running around all the time? =)

5. The oldest babies we see are 30 months old (2 years, 6 months), and moms are still breastfeeding at this age.

6. I was surprised to see some babies with natural stark blonde hair – super adorable. Sara later mentioned that the hair colour could possibly be from malnutrition. Didn’t even think of that.

7. In Molinos, the furthest town, almost two hours away from Huancayo, we got caught in a mini storm. We could hear the thunder as if it boomed right beside our ears. The rain came suddenly and in spurts, sometimes sprinkling then other times intense with huge droplets almost like hail. Sara and I conducted an interview standing under a tiny awning with the mother, trying not to get our papers soaked. With another family, we huddled with them under a tarp in the middle of their farm, sitting on wood chips, getting bitten by fleas and tiny spiders, watching the father carve Jesus’ face out of sections of tree trunk.

8. For those of you that are wondering, I am almost always wearing a toque now to hide my silly haircut. =) It works out well for the weather – protects my face from the UV rays, but doubles as a head warmer when it randomly gets cold out. And no, I’m not the only one here who wears a toque under the blazing hot sun!

Grandmommy & Baby

There is a difference between hearing crazy stories about rural Peruvians – choosing your life partner based on a stone throw to their forehead, leaving babies in mud pens to be accidentally eaten by wild dogs – and hearing less-than-crazy but much more real stories from rural Peruvians themselves. Today was day three of infant assessments – we’re spending the next week and a half visiting individual families in their homes in five different locations in and around Huancayo.

I was surprised to meet a mother hitting almost 50 years in age with an 8-month old baby. As we worked through the questionnaire, her love for her infant was evident. It was hard not to fall in love with the beautiful baby girl, her curious eyes and full head of curls peeking out of the manta (the cloth Peruvians use to carry their babies on their back). She was attentive to her baby, was thoroughly knowledgeable of her baby’s capabilities but also subtle deficits, and was eager to honestly disclose what she knew about her baby so that we could also best share our knowledge on how she could promote the infant's physical, mental, and socio-emotional health.

As the assessment came to a close, she expressed concern for her baby’s delay in gross motor development – the baby wasn’t able to hold herself up in a sitting position and her legs were too weak to support herself standing even when holding on to a railing or someone else’s hands. From there, her story unfolded. She is actually the grandmother and not the mother of baby, she confessed. She has three children - the youngest daughter was spoiled and wild, accidentally becoming pregnant, then tried to abort the baby on multiple occasions during the pregnancy, taking special herbs from the rainforest. The baby was born anyway, but who knows how these abortion attempts may have affected her prenatal development. The grandmother was unhappy with her daughter’s decisions, but didn’t intervene until her daughter accidentally dropped the baby from her manta one day – the baby fell to the ground and rolled a certain distance away, traumatized.

It was the last straw. The grandmother took the baby and the baby's older sister into her own care, forcing her daughter to work. The daughter now sends money home monthly and when she visits, the baby cries as if her own real mother is a stranger. And such is the life of many of these families it seems.

Horror Hair

I made the mistake of going to the peluqueria (the hair salon) today. A good friend of mine, someone I work with actually, said she knew just the place. We had to take a combi outside of Huancayo central just to find her. Most peluqueras cost 3 soles ($1) my friend tells me, but this lady charges 5 soles for her work. She had to be good.

We waited a half hour for her to arrive. I took my seat and explained what I wanted in broken Spanish - keep it long in the front, trim the back, fix the bangs, which I had been painstakingly cutting by myself the last three weeks. She starts trimming the back and all seems good. I find it weird that she only sprays my hair with water because I'm used to the soak pre-cut, but I brush it off. What should I be expecting for 5 soles anyway? Then, in one fell swoop, she performs an act so wholly disgusting, rendering me speechless - she cuts almost 3 inches off the front of my hair. My hair was already so short, I was trying to grow it out, and now... I have a mushroom cut and I look like a boy.

For some reason, my friend says nothing as the peluquera cuts more of my hair off, as she shaves the back of my neck with shaving cream and a blade old-school style, as she cuts another inch off my already short bangs. The left side of my hair is now noticeably longer than the right side of my hair, my bangs aren't straight but I can't trim it any shorter because they're already abnormally high on my forehead, and I have stubble on the back of my neck. Above all this, I get charged 10 soles when she usually charges 5 and I don't understand why. I cannot believe I let this happen to me. This...is...un...fixable.

Yum!

My favourite way to absorb a new culture is through its food and the Peruvians are proud of their food. Sharing a meal is an excuse to spend time to get to know another person, talking about how the food is made is always a conversation starter, and cooking together is the most fun!

>Last week, Sara and Tabita came over for a work meeting that never did happen (because we’re still waiting for a package of materials from the US that is now two weeks over due and is being held in Lima – long story!), so they spent the afternoon teaching us how to cook papa a la huancaina (Huancayo potatoes). Potatoes are the staple food here in Peru. This, Maria and I observed as soon as we arrived here and visited El Museo de La Nacion in Lima, which was undergoing major renovations and only had two exhibits open – one on the Shining Path and the other on potatoes. It seems common here for Peruvians to eat potatoes with rice as a meal. And speaking of carbs, I remember having lunch at a friend’s house a couple weeks ago and his sister made rice and quinoa for us! That’s like eating rice and rice!

Every morning, Maria and I drink mate de coca (coca tea). One can find coca leaves being sold everywhere in the markets and the Peruvians believe it to be a cure all plant. For my uneasy stomach last week, for example? More coca leaves steeped in hot water longer would make me feel better for sure, apparently. During our coca shops, Maria and I have also learned that we can ask for the better quality coca leaves to chew on (not that we do – although, I have to admit that I’ve tried it and it just tastes like leaf).

The dish I was most scared to try was cuy (guinea pig), especially because I always see tons of live guinea pigs crawling over each other in mesh bags or cages everywhere in the streets. But when you’re in a small village and all the mothers want to show their appreciation for the work you’re doing with their infants by serving you their most prized piece of meat, there’s little you can do. The director of the infant nutrition program of Caritas (Cesar) tells me it’s super healthy, rich in protein, very little fat. So I had to try it. I held its little paw in my hand as I tried to scrape the meat off – it’s tough and chewy. They say that the skin is eaten too, but I couldn’t even chew it.

I’ve always considered myself a food junkie. The Food Network is the only channel I watch on TV and I love fine dining even though I don’t have critique-worthy taste buds – almost any kind of food or pastry or dessert or drink tastes lovely to me. But I’ve always known that I’ve been missing a huge part of the world of food – cooking! So I’ve been loving the past month that I’ve spent with Maria who lets me be her assistant. We’ve been making a lot of beans and soups; maybe I’ll perfect these by the end of the trip. As an aside, I was cutting potatoes for our carrot and potato soup yesterday when I accidentally cut a small piece of my thumb off. I put pressure on it for two hours, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding. Eventually, I chose the alcohol route so it would close up. Pain pain pain. My sister says this is why I should’ve taken cooking classes in high school. Haha!

Search Him

So, I'm going for a walk with my friend, Kevin, through the streets of Huancayo. There are always a lot of people out and about in the evenings in the centre of the city. On a whim, I ask if we can cross over the walkway that spans the busy highway. It'd be fun to see the cars whizzing by from above, I think. We're walking up the stairs when we run into two young guys chilling in the stairwell. They start talking to Kevin in Spanish and I can't understand completely what they're saying. I think at first they're just saying "Hi" until I notice that they aren't smiling and that Kevin has given them 1 sol. We're being robbed.

As far as I understood, Kevin was trying to negotiate. "Search him," the taller guy said. So far, they've left me alone. I'm frozen, watching all of this in amazement and fear. The shorter guy leans in to pat Kevin's pockets (or maybe to reach inside), but Kevin pushes the guy away. I imagine he's saying something like, "Calm down. I'll give you more money." He takes out his wallet and gives them 2 more soles. They aren't satisfied. "Search him," the taller guy insists. I'm thinking of how much money I had in my pockets and in my shoes; if they only knew.

I'm really scared and a million thoughts run through my head. Give them my money. Help Kevin. Escape. Yell. There are so many people walking along the pathway just below us. I feel horrible because this was all my idea. I feel horrible as I start to instinctively inch my way towards the staircase to escape. The taller guy notices me move and puts him arm around me, blocking me. I have never felt so afraid in my life.

The taller guy lets me go for a moment to help his friend out and I run down the stairs, turning back once or twice to see Kevin getting hit in the face, double teamed. A few seconds later, Kevin is beside me. He was hoping for and waiting for me to escape. Apparently he's a scrapper, has been in many fights before, but was being passive because he was afraid of what they might do to me. On the way home, he spits out blood more than a couple times. I'm saying "sorry" over and over again. He's just happy that I'm safe. So am I. Peru can be a dangerous place. It was a lesson I needed to learn because I tend to see the world as one big happy place; I tend to be very gullible, trusting. Next time, they might not be amateurs. I've gotta be street smart and even then, you just never know.

BTU Crew

One of Rik’s projects here is a youth drop-in centre (JPC) for the so-called “thugs” of Huancayo – those who are not necessarily thieves or hooligans, but are nevertheless looked down upon in society because they are different. Most are break dancers, rappers, graffiti artists. All are kind, welcoming, and open.

Ruth, a young dance teacher from The Netherlands, has been teaching modern dance classes three days a week at JPC and it’s amazing to see the raw talent in these guys shine. They communicate with their bodies, imitating, improvising, expressing themselves – their anger, their strength, their playfulness, their creativity. It’s hard to imagine that these same guys need to work 7 days a week just to pay for food and rent, and could barely afford the 5 soles (less than $2) fee for the trip to Huaytapallana (one of the most famous peaks in the Central Andes, reaching past 5000m with snow, glaciers, and all that jazz).

The other night, we went to support BTU’s break dancing show at the discoteca. Their show went without a hitch and they were so proud of the shirts they had designed and bought for themselves, the BTU crew, with their individual names stitched on the bottom right of each shirt.

It’s interesting to think how much kindness, personality, and talent many people in Peru are missing simply because they discriminate against these youth. And how much more would these guys thrive if they did have more support from their own community? Despite the odds, they have taken initiative to spend their free time practicing, to seek out opportunities to perform, to write meaningful lyrics, to make music videos with what little they have. Why don't I have a passion? Why don't I put more effort into the things that I love when I already have so much love and support from others?

Para La Pachamama

I was just a part of the biggest and craziest fiesta that I have ever been to in my life! Families and friends come together from all over Peru at this time of the year to Sicaya (a town just outside of Huancayo) to celebrate the pachamama (mother earth). There were hundreds of people, shoulder-to-shoulder packed, mostly dressed in traditional Peruvian garb, pouring beer for each other, and dancing away. Each family proudly wears scarves around their neck etched with their name and have their own band with 12-15 saxophonists, clarinet players, a harpist, and drummers. The tradition is to make your best offering to the pachamama first, whether it’s throwing coca leaves or pouring your beer on the ground before passing the cup around to everyone and anyone else. Afterwards, the family holds hands and dances in a circle or parades through the streets of Sicaya, but they’re never an exclusive bunch – Jaap, Dorien, Ruth, and I were recruited to join the dancing and the festivities over and over again as we walked through the plaza! And the party’s not over yet! It’s still going on right now and we may even hit up Sicaya again Monday evening for the castallones (fireworks). =)

Maria and I shared pachamanca for lunch – a traditional Peruvian dish and very fitting for the occasion. They throw layers and layers of food to be cooked in a hole in the ground. Our pachamanca had green beans, spiced pork, beef, and humita (a sweet corn tamale).

Later in the afternoon, we explored the farmlands in the outskirts of Sicaya. We chatted with a family in the midst of building their own home – they had found prime earth to mix with straw to make adobe bricks, the construction material of choice in this region. We then continued on into the currently abandoned farmlands and found ourselves truly aware of our presence in the Mantaro Valley surrounded by the Andes mountains every direction we turned. We trekked up and down dirt hills, leaped across little rivers, ran through rows and rows of tall dried grass, remembering pachamama.

Culture Shock

A good friend e-mailed and asked: " What has been the biggest culture shock that you have experienced so far?" and I had to think about that one...

I have to admit that I first tried to address "culture shock" in terms of trauma and anxiety - and I've had my share of struggles! - but really, the biggest "shock" in moving here has been very positive. I would say I've been most pleasantly surprised by the wealth of culture and history here. Being in the Central Andes gives me access to the Inca civilization at its core (e.g. one of the main streets through the city was once part of the Inca trail), but I also love the diversity here from Peru's rich history before and after the Incas and from the country's geography - the Andes seem to be like a mixing pot as the sierra is flanked by the coast to the west of Peru and the Amazon rainforest to the east. Many of the people here in Huancayo, for example, consider themselves mestizo (of mixed race), usually a mix of Huanca, Inca, and Spanish. Not to mention all the people who look like gringos (foreigners) to me, but are actually Peruvians descended from the Spanish, and all the Chinese and Japanese looking-people who have also lived here for generations. In fact, Rik, the director of my NGO, is in the Amazon right now visiting a rural community whose members all have blonde hair because their ancestors came from Germany centuries ago!

I'm ashamed to say that if I had done more research on Peru and South America, this culture shock would probably have been much less potent. At the same time, because I'm jumping with a near-blank slate, I've noticed that my eyes are open a lot wider, my attitude is fresher, and I've been able to connect more with so many people who are excited to teach me about their country (the Huancas are so friendly!)

The Plaza Constitucion is only a couple blocks away from the apartment and I love sitting there, in the centre of the city, seeing people come and go, imagining their stories. And I think of how lucky I am to be here and how my own story is unfolding.

Bienvenidos a Huancayo!

Here, in Huancayo, I am La China (pronounced chee-na), the Chinese. There is yet to be a day that someone hasn’t tried to get my attention or that I haven’t overheard others talking about me as China or Chinita. It is my new Peruvian identity. And I thought that I’d be able to fit in here – for a relatively small city, they seem to have a lot of Chifa (Chinese food)!

Maria and I have an apartment on the top floor of an office building in the middle of the centre – I like to think of it as a penthouse though it’s a little rough around the edges. It’s entirely furnished though the furniture is aging and mismatched, green carpet in one room, almost all of kitchen chairs have lost a spring, greasy gas stove. Every three showers (jumping in and out of scalding hot water) the fuse blows and it’s the old school kind of fuse that we have to screw in each time. My favourite part of the place is the huge terrace where we can soak up the sun, hang our laundry, and where I would do yoga if there weren’t school kids popping their heads out the windows in the building across the street. The place has character.

Huancayo is up in the Central Andes, over 3000m above sea level. I was expecting some altitude sickness, but had little difficulty adjusting – I feel winded every time I climb up the four flights of stairs to our penthouse, but that may be more a measure of my poor fitness. The air is polluted and the atmosphere is dry here – they don’t expect any rain until September at the earliest. It’s usually sunny and hot during the day and cold at night, but not much worse than fall in Vancouver. I can go out in shorts and a jacket, but people find that weird because they consider this their “winter.” There is hardcore poverty everywhere I turn. Huancayo opened its first supermarket (e.g. Walmart-like everything store) just last week; otherwise, the streets are mostly filled with little family-owned shops or street vendors on the sidewalks. I’ve been practicing my skill of dodging cars, people, and dogs as the sidewalks are small or non-existent and there is no such thing as a pedestrian crossing.

It’s day 3 in Huancayo and we already have practically a weeklong vacation. It’s Fiestas Patrias on Monday and the city basically shuts down for at least a week to celebrate Peru’s largest national holiday, its independence day. Vive Peru!

Art, Beauty, Culture

My first taste of Peru is through the eyes of Andita Uribe – a well-known artist when she lived in France and Germany. She is the cousin of Maria’s mother who was kind enough to welcome Maria and me into her apartment for the two nights we needed to stay in Lima before taking the bus up to Huancayo. Her apartment is an open space filled with paintings, ceramics, prints, and furniture that she has designed, but also tidbits of la cultura peruana (gourds with histories finely etched on their surfaces, paintbrushes made out of hair like mine, an enormous tree trunk hollowed out in a certain way and used as a communication device by the aguarunas in ancient times). Every piece is handmade, unique and to Andita, it is why each is so beautiful.

Andita is so full of personality; it is seen through her apartment and through the way she lives life. Maria and I spent the day wrapping several dollars worth of Nuevo Soles (the peruano currency) in paper, labelling them with names and the little villages to which they are being sent through the next man who will take the three-day venture to the rainforest. The money is for the ceramics they have sold here in Lima, really the only “city” in Peru, Andita tells us (because the next largest city is at least an eighth of the size of Lima and can’t even really even be called a “city.”) Andita has been helping the aguarunas of three small rainforest villages rediscover their talent and skill in ceramic design and show them how they can use this skill for their livelihood. The rest of her time...well, it’s difficult to say what she does the rest of the time because she does what her heart desires. She has been an interior decorator for a small upscale cafe in Miraflores, she sells her ceramic creations that she makes in Colombia, and custom designs furniture.

On our last day in Lima, Andita shared a bit of her life history, a story of taking all the random and spontaneous opportunities that life presents us. And as difficult as these coming six months might be for me immersed in a new environment, a completely foreign culture, I'm so glad that I walked through that open door of opportunity, got on the plane and am now sitting in the Peruvian sun.

Grand Street Parade

It's the weekend of the Antigonish Highland Games. I ran the kick-off 5 miler on Friday (excellent idea to get the fire fighters to spray the runners), took part in the Grand Street Parade, waving to the town of Antigonish with all the Diploma participants yesterday (I have never in my life heard so much bag-piping), and admired the big burly men in kilts today. My favourite event was the 15-minute Tug-o-War! It was amazing to see the strategies they used, how coordinated the young men were, and how crazy the coaches can be! =)

I leave for Peru tomorrow morning. I am scared and anxious yet excited and hopeful. We'll see where the road takes me from here. =) Wish me luck!

Workshop on Conflict

Earlier in the week, we did an exercise on conflict. The class was divided into three groups – one was instructed to put all the chairs by the door, another was instructed to put all the chairs by the window at the opposite end of the room, and the last group was instructed to put all the chairs in a circle. Simple exercise, right? It was interesting to see how the group transformed – people were shoved out of their chairs or dragged across the room, some teamed up, and others were sneaky and waited to catch people off guard. The chairs had become more important than the people. Four observations from the group dynamic and the discussion afterwards:

1) The group that found itself with the most chairs (the “door” group) were the least likely to come to a compromise. In fact they didn’t even consider any kind of negotiation. Even when the “window” group brought all their chairs over to try to strike up some kind of deal, the “door” group refused to entertain any type of interaction. In their eyes, they had the most resources and therefore were the “winners.”

2) Gilo from South Sudan – one of the tallest and biggest guys of the group – noticed that many in his group were relying on him to hold down the most chairs or at least the chair he was sitting on, but he was also dragged off in the end and his chair was eventually stolen. From that experience, he pointed out how dialogue would have brought about more positive change than size and power.

3) Hellen from Uganda held back because the scene immediately reminded her of incidents back home when the government distributes soap or sugar. The scenario was always the same – a mad scramble, each person for himself or herself, children getting trampled. Olga, the facilitator, also mentioned that when they conducted the same exercise years back, the two Diploma participants who were there from Iraq left the room as soon as the chaos started. They later explained that they see the same chaos back home every day and they have learned to protect themselves by removing themselves from the situation.

I reflected on how I acted during the exercise. At first, I tried to conspire with another team member and steal some chairs, but I mostly held back as chair legs were being dangerously flung into the air. Krista came up with the idea to let all the groups succeed - by helping each other achieve each group's goal in turn, first bringing the chairs to the door, then the window, then put them in a circle. I helped yell to get everyone to listen up to Krista, but after she proposed the idea to the most people that would listen, I was surprised that nobody took action. They pretty much just went back to what they were doing!

How would you have responded to the exercise? =)

Clapping, Singing, and Dancing

A few nights ago, I lay in bed dripping with sweat in the sweltering heat of my enclosed bedroom - my thermostat said it was 31 degrees. I tossed and turned and tossed and turned and could not sleep. This is very rare for me. I'm usually an excellent sleeper - my body knows to sleep through what it needs to, but I can also be perky as soon as it's time for me to wake up. I had to wake up at 2am last night and air my room out for an hour. Ironically, that afternoon, there was torrential rain.

Thomas (affectionately known as "Dr. Peace") led an insightful half-day workshop on racism the other morning. It's funny because I was constantly telling others about Vancouver's multiculturalism when I was in Japan, but the simple fact that Canada is a country of immigrants doesn't mean that we're any less segregated or any more tolerant than the next person. Brittany (one of the other interns) commented that she was surprised at some of the blatant discriminatory comments she would hear from some of her friends in Vancouver when she was on the West Coast for an internship. Her friend made a face at her for buying something from the Richmond night market and it's true that sometimes Caucasians are viewed differently if they spend too much time participating in Vancouver's Asian culture or with Asians. Our typical language is filled with labels - "chugs," "FOBs," "brown," and it's common for us to chill with people from our own ethnic circles (my sister vouched for that, especially based on the cultural environment in high school).

It's also important, though, that I point out what I learned about the difference between racism and discrimination. As Dr. Peace put it, racism is discrimination + power. It's discriminating against another ethnic group for the purpose of exerting one's power or superiority over that group. I think both are present in Vancouver.

Maria and I had the chance to meet with Julie, one of Tara's past interns, a couple days ago who left us with several pointers. (1) Expect vicious dogs roaming the streets of Huancayo. If I'm alone, the best way to deal with them is to make like I'm going to pick up a large rock and hope that I don't actually have to throw it. (2) I'll have to deal with the machismo culture - still not sure what to expect in terms of this. (3) Some of the Peruvians in the more rural communities think that foreigners steal children and use their fat to grease railroad tracks. (!!!) Establishing that trust-based relationship will be really important.

The other day, Sophia from Tanzania nonchalantly commented that I seemed to be gaining weight (I have been eating a lot of pastries lately - I've gotta take advantage of this buffet!) What's so great is that fat really is beautiful where she comes from. If only I was going to Africa. =)

I'm going to church today for the first time in years. The ladies from various countries in Africa promised that we would be clapping, singing, and dancing like they did during the Welcome Social night and I'm always up for that!

Sticky Belly Monster

Today I felt like I was emitting sweat droplets from every single pore of my body all day long. I felt like this yesterday too. Because of the incessant sweat, I'm also getting hives all over, not only when I'm out and about in the pollen-ified air, but also just sitting, unmoving indoors. Imagine a stuffy room, the body heat of over fifty perspiring humans, and the accompanying stench (or so I've been told - this is when I feel grateful that my sense of smell is so poor). I am a sticky monster.

Today I had a big breakfast, three slices of pizza, a few slices of cake, cookies, and scoops and scoops and scoops of ice cream (with chunks of white chocolate goodness). I need to cooldown somehow. This is all for free through my meal plan. I now fully understand where the "freshman 15" comes from. I am a belly.

Classes Begin

We've officially had three full days of courses with the Coady Diploma Participants and two weeks more to come. I have to admit that I was ready to write-off the whole course after the first day of classes - some of the participants didn't vibe with the participatory teaching style (i.e. a lot of small group discussions and energizers), there was a lot of interrupting, and there also seemed to be a language barrier. That all started to change, though, as we all became more comfortable with each other and began discussing issues more relevant to the participants' backgrounds and interests in community development.

Olga (one of the facilitators) gave a really good example demonstrating the consequences of paternalistic donor-driven projects and the difference between felt and ascribed needs. In this case, the donor was providing funding for a goat project in Nepal. They intended to distribute pairs of goats to families in rural communities in Nepal to breed as a source of income. But these families didn’t want goats! In fact, they saw these goats as an extra burden, especially when they already had to travel long distances to get water for the family members, let alone the goats. Not surprisingly, they later found that all the goats had been eaten. =P

It’s like how Berin was telling us about the forest communities in Nepal. NGOs thought they were “helping” these communities, by transferring them to the city, until they found the people back in the forest some time later. Fred made the argument that sometimes people don’t know what they need, at which time the donor may be justified in intervening. He had worked in Somalia during a large famine and the people felt that they needed food, of course. But just giving away food wasn't sustainable, so the Food for Work program was implemented - food was given in exchange for human capital so that canals were built to harness water and roads were built for better access to rural areas. Imagine me nodding my head at this time, vibing with Fred's wisdom, until Olga brought us back to the idea of giving these people a sense of ownership. The way the Food for Work program was employed perpetuated paternalism and dependency. A better approach would be to increase the people's awareness of other possibilities and educate them so that they discover for themselves what they really need and what can be done.

Before I left for Antigonish, Dana and Mary (coordinators of BC's infant development program) talked a lot about empowering the mothers that I'll be working with in Peru. I've learned from Crystal that a better term might be "capacity building" or "capacity strengthening" which acknowledges that these moms already have the capacity to be excellent mothers, whereas "empowering" implies that these moms are empty and need to be instilled with the power or capacity to be. I like to also remind myself that I am exactly where I need to be right now, doing exactly what I need to do, and that I have just what I need to do these things...to absorb all this knowledge, to learn Spanish (almost from scratch), to get up every day and go for a run, to manage my time well (despite a string of 8am-8pm days with extra Tara sessions), to just be really human.

Cribbon's Point

I accidentally popped my blister yesterday, which turned out to be the worst time to pop it because Tara took us down to the beach after our day-long workshop on infant development, but in order to get down to the oceanside we had to traverse dirt, grass, and mud downhill. I tried to keep my flip flops on, but found myself slipping around everywhere (especially when we got to the mud). Thankfully, my blister doesn't seem to be infected - although Tara did warn us to keep our feet protected when we get to Huancayo as it'll be a whole different bacteria-infested story over there. Go GoreTex runners!

I love how human and down-to-earth (literally) Tara is. I like to think that I'm hardcore and outdoorsy, but there I was, a little squirmy about getting my feet in the mud for no more than two minutes. We'll see how I fare trekking through the Central Andes.

Happy Canada Day!

It was a beautiful and warm night for Canada Day celebrations. I found that Canada Day in a small town in the Maritimes means knee-slapping country music, fireworks, and real Canadian pride. =) It was especially cool seeing the Africans dancing along to the country music as well. Music is universal!

What it means to be Canadian

A big part of this trip is reassessing myself. What does it mean, for example, to be Canadian? In Japan, I often brushed off the question by focusing on Canada's multiculturalism. We're so diverse that we don't really have a common way of being, acting, or believing, I'd say. Upon reflection though, I think my answer stemmed more from ignorance.

Today we had a full orientation day for the Coady participants who arrived through the past weekend including some skits on life here in Canada. We did some role-playing to introduce them to some Canadian conventions that may be different from the norms in their country - greetings such as "how are you" or "see you later" that shouldn't be taken too literally, the important of showing up (generally) on time instead of too late or too early, and paying the price on the tag instead of bargaining. An eye-opener for me is that we, as Canadians, may greet someone's dog before the owner (e.g. "What a cute little puppy you are!") and we may not even address the owner at all. I mean, I know we do that, but how weird are we to do so?!

This wasn't addressed in the skits, but on a more personal level, I've come to the conclusion that the notion of "me time" might be a Canadian or North American attitude as well. I was having a difficult time last week because I felt like I had no "me time" - I was taking classes with the other interns, eating with the other interns, and spending the rest of my time with the other interns living at the dorm together. Many families or groups around the world (as in the orphans in the Stephen Lewis film on grandmothers in Africa and even my mother's family when she was young) don't place such high value on independence, privacy, or "me time," if at all.

Some of the reasons I was attracted to this internship included wanting to gain that broader perspective, which I hope will provide motivation for me to simplify my lifestyle, and wanting to serve, which entails putting others before myself. I realized, after talking to my mom, that I shouldn't be waiting until I arrived in Peru to start working towards these goals. So, I made a conscious decision to change my attitude and welcome the nearly-24/7 group atmosphere. When I started taking the time to just be with others, not only was I learning more from them and about them, but I was also learning a lot more about myself, about being a group member, about socializing and networking. Here's my chance to practice and soak up tips on improvisation, being witty, and being a good journalist (e.g. asking good questions).

Finally, A Day Off!

I finally have a key to my room (as of yesterday) and I'm starting to feel like I'm really here, in a new province, away from home. I've been exploring the town and meeting the locals on my runs, walks with friends, at the gym, and around campus. The 50 Coady Diploma participants from all over the world are trickling in and I've already met:
- the pastor from India, Father Paulson
- the Argentinian with the Russian accent who has worked in Macau for the last 10 years
- the Sudanese who swims naked in rivers (because that's what they do in South Sudan), and
- the dude from Malawi who was all decked out in a tourist-y shirt and baseball cap with "Malawi" splashed across the front ("Hi, I'm Alex from Malawi," he says as I shake his hand)

When else would I ever get the chance to chat with, eat lunch with, and take three weeks of workshops and classes with fifty international/community development specialists from all over the world? They're here for six months for Coady's development leadership diploma program, but we as interns still get to sponge up as much as we can from them before we head out to our NGOs. When else would I ever get to do this? I am continually challenged to engage in serious, intellectual, political, philosophical conversations on topics that I've never even thought about most of the time - other interns are always recommending books to read (notably, Race Against Time by Stephen Lewis) or watching and discussing movies on developing countries in the common room just across from my bedroom. I feel like I can't keep up! =P

Today is my first day off and I have a lot of catching up to do in terms of both internship-related errands and in this blog. I have so many things I want to post about that I could write a novel on the past week, but I should probably be time-efficient and just get them out in a list of random rambling notes. I figure it's most important to just get them down so I don't forget. Then I can come back to reflect upon these ramblings later and talk about them more in depth when I get back home next year and get the chance to meet with you guys in person! =)

Ramblings...
- I had no idea that when people travel, they have a higher risk of engaging in risky sexual behaviour.
- We met the president of StFX who shared some insights and advice on his travels during a lunch with Coady staff. Later, we hear through the gossip mill about what he can be like outside of his presidential role. Only in a small town...! And speaking of small towns - my fantasy of living in a place like Antigonish has been tainted a little as I hear stories and begin to see how complicated relationships can be here. Imagine having a limited crop of potential suitors, knowing who everyone has slept with, and having everyone know about your nasty break-ups!
- I am so lucky that I have the ability to run. Two of the interns are beautiful and lean ladies, but can't run anymore because of physical injuries. One got injured just before the triathlon she had signed up for after having been training for many months!
- Advice from a former intern: as a female, if you feel unsafe (e.g. at night in a dangerous part of Africa), approach a sex worker. What a powerful bond there is that connects women from all walks of life.
- Kim's (the internship program coordinator) philosophy is to squeeze learning opportunities out of every situation. For example, the fact that we don't have our visas yet? Patience and trust in the system.
- Turn judgment into curiosity. Like, if my NGO has a very roundabout system that seems inefficient, turn the frustrated "Why the heck would they do it this way?" attitude into a pondering "I wonder why they do it this way?" outlook. Look into their iceberg and see the "invisible"/below the surface reasons for their thoughts, actions, and behaviours. Now that I think about it, I guess this goes for any interaction, not just cross-culturally.
- From the sounds of it, development work seems to consist of a lot of planning and reporting, especially when it comes to funding. On a completely separate note, there are also a million acronyms used in this field. Do you know what NGO, CBO, ASRHR, OVC, and PLWA stand for?
- We received our work plans, which were developed last year (because that's when the funding applications were due). It will be a true test of flexibility and my confidence/trust in my own abilities when we get to our host countries because things will most likely not follow these plans, if at all. I guess that's what life is like.
- Coady's philosophy is centred around Asset-Based Community Development (ABCD), capacity building (thanks for explaining this to me, Crystal!), with the view that these communities already work. Our role is to assist these communities in identifying their assets instead of their needs or "what's missing" (a very paternalistic attitude).
- It will be difficult, if not impossible, to quantify the experience we will have and/or the difference we're going to make. Change is ongoing, can be internal, and will hopefully continue beyond the time period of out internships, particularly because sustainability is a fundamental theme of all of these projects.
- The more I learn, the more questions I have instead of answers. Development work seems to be an ongoing discussion, as is research, as is morals and ethics, as is determining what it means to live a good life.
- I feel that I'm really good at making eye contact with people, but I start looking away when I'm speaking to people as I try to formulate my words.
- If you find yourself riding in the back of the truck, choose the spot closest to the driver.
- I love how in many parts of the world, fat is beautiful.
- Has anyone ever heard of "sex bracelets"? I think a certain number or colour of bracelets signifies how much sex you've had!
- I've been writing down all the things I want to blog about so that I don't forget, but there are already three to four notes that I've made that seem completely foreign to me now. Bah!

People that I want to remember
- Cassie's boyfriend came to visit and we met his friends Mory from the Ivory Coast (in West Africa) and Thesfaye from Ethiopia. It's weird to think that French is the national language of the Ivory Coast.
- Joseph from Tanzania.

Joseph's living at our dorm right now and was in Halifax to present at a conference on the radio station that he and his colleagues have started up in the rural Kagawe region. People in Kagawe are in so much poverty that many still don't have toilets, need to carry water from so far away, and need to grow their own crops despite not being educated as farmers. It is through radio that he's been able to reach out to the rural communities, broadcasting on issues such as agro-forestry, health, and sanitation. I had a chat with him this morning about how this first trip to Canada has been an eye-opening experience for him. He thought he was making a difference when he planted 500,000 trees in his home country, until he saw all the trees that we have here in Canada. It just goes to show that we often think we know, we understand, we've tried our hardest, we've made a difference, until we open our eyes a little wider and take in the rest of the world.

I asked Joseph if he ever felt like giving up. Wouldn't he? After seeing how much more he needs to do, how many more trees he has to plant, how much more work he has to do to educate the people of his country - wouldn't it be so easy to get lost in the sheer magnitude of the task? He told me three things:
(1) Use only what you need. He had visited CBC in Ottawa, was given a tour, saw the rows and rows of cubicles and equipment, but instead of feeling overwhelmed with all that he still needed to do with his tiny radio station in Tanzania, he thought about how he had everything he needed. There were some pieces of equipment that he would like to have, but he was striving for one cubicle's worth of equipment, not to become like the entire CBC station.
(2) Patience. It took him 15 years to get his radio station up and running and it started with a little collection of resources that turned into a library that turned into a newsletter that turned into information boards that turned into a radio station.
(3) Be a catalyst. We could drown in thinking about all the little things that could still be done/changed, but if we take the broader perspective and view ourselves instead as a catalyst for change, it almost feels as if we can make a substantial difference in the world.

What does your road map look like?

We spent a big chunk of yesterday designing our "road map" - in a poster, laying out the major events in our life that have brought each of us together in this blip of time. And as we talked about each of our paths, the pit stops, and detours we also shared the challenges we faced and reflected upon what we had learned. I've been telling others that one of the personal reasons I'm going on this trip is because I want to "grow up," in the broadest sense of the term. I'm still trying to figure out what that means. But it was nice to step back, look at that snapshot of my life, and come to the realisation that I have already "grown up" a lot. It was a reminder that I should take some time to reflect on the occurrences of my life, especially all the random moments that I'm soaking up while I'm here in Antigonish and will be experiencing in Peru - not just to remind myself how far I've come, but also so that I'm continually thinking about what I can learn and how I can grow from these moments.

Off to a day-long workshop on HIV/AIDS! I'll finally get a break after today and will have time to do a real post!

Insights

Ohmigoodness! Thank you so very much for posting comments, guys! It totally makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (i.e. I really feel the support).

Today we began a two-day workshop with a facilitator from the Canadian government's Centre for Intercultural Learning (CIL). All internships funded by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) have this two-day preparatory workshop, but most only have these two days before being sent off to their host countries so I'm glad we have an entire month to get in the groove. I'm so happy to have these opportunities to discuss cross-cultural issues, especially because I feel a little bit like the underdog without a background in international development. It's especially exciting to engage in discussions with the other interns because they're so well-traveled, well-read, and have well-developed opinions but are still very open-minded.

We played a card game in the beginning that really initiated a lot of discussion. First, we sat in three groups and each group got a set of instructions to the card game - unbeknownst to us, each of three groups received a different set of instructions. During the game, we weren't allowed to talk to each other and the trouble started when we had to rotate players. Without communication, the "new" member of each group had to figure out that there were different rules at their new table. It was supposed to be a microcosm of dealing with intercultural issues and it was interesting to see the different approaches people had. Some were laid back and just went with the flow even though they were confused that the rules were suddenly different and some tried to implement the rules of their original table even though everyone else at the new table were playing by a different set of rules.

I remember at my table, one of the girls was trying to show us her way of playing the game even though the rest of the members of the table were playing by a different set of rules. I had the urge to take over and explicitly show her the rules of the table, but another guy at the table took a different approach before I could act. He has a really laid back personality and compromised by splitting up his "winning" cards between himself and the other girl to appease her. It was such a simple act that I hadn't even though of. I guess, sometimes, the best thing to do is to take it easy. There isn't only one right way to do things and we certainly can't be going to Peru with even the slightest attitude of superiority, assuming that our methods are somehow better than their existing way of living. No matter how many times I am reminded of this, I seem to continually catch myself in moments when I am subconsciously trying to enforce my beliefs, opinions, or ways of behaving. It helps that I am continually humbled by the other interns in this group.

I was talking to my sister yesterday night and realized that the tension and anxiety I've been feeling (and probably the reason that I've been having a hard time sleeping) is because this whole experience is really outside my comfort zone. Engaging in discussion on issues I'm really not familiar with, trying to delve deep into my limited life experience to produce relevant and insightful comments (this rarely happens). Being a "group member" almost 24/7 as we are always in a group during class, meals, and all the activities the interns organize afterwards whether they're playing soccer, going for walks, chatting in the common room, or having Spanish conversation sessions.

But Bit also helped me realize that "the only person being hard on me is me." All of the interns are inclusive, supportive, encouraging, understanding, and just downright nice. I guess will only grow and change by stepping outside of my comfort zone in these ways.

It is a challenge every day, but that doesn't mean I can't and won't be able to wake up every day and face that challenge. I always find running to be a good microcosm of life for me. Whenever I head out for a run in the morning, there are so many excuses running through my head, so many reasons I could conjure up to justify going back inside (it's raining, there's a stone in my shoe, a blister's developing, I already ran yesterday). And while I'm running, I'm fighting the whole way to not stop before the length of time that I've set for myself. And the majority of the time, I get through it, and sometimes I'm even able to push myself further and run faster for a couple intervals. It seems that I have to have more faith in myself when it comes to daily life as well.

Antigonish

WOOOWW! Ahooooy from Antigonish, Nova Scotia! It's been a whirlwind couple of days! I'm glad I'm typing this now, having gone through the first day of orientation. You should have seen me last night - I was tired, grumpy, homesick, feeling lost and confused, and every other imaginable negative feeling. Larry, you were probably right - that feeling of being overwhelmed was largely due to the fact that I hadn't slept in over 24 hours. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Let me first preface this blog and all other blogs with a note that I have been and will probably continue comparing this internship to my student exchange year in Japan. It's an interesting comparison:
(1) My dad flew to Japan with me to help me settle in, but this time I'm on my own from day 1.
(2) In Japan, I had a VOIP phone and could phone whenever I pleased, but this time home will be less accessible, especially when I get to Peru.
(3) In Japan, I was mostly a passive recipient of knowledge as a student, but this time I'm actively trying to make a positive contribution to a developing community.
(4) In Japan, many of the other students spent a lot of time having fun and soaking up the scene and culture, but this time the students are all top-notch and duber mature, narrowed down from over 200 applicants. (Today, the coordinator mentioned how hard it was for her to choose the final batch and how we all have such amazing resumes, err... except mine maybe).
(5) In Japan, I was taking classes on topics I wasn't particularly interested in, but this time my work is directly related to my passion, interests, and future goals.

I'm sure there are other contrasts I'll think of later. To me, what's more important are the comparisons I make on my attitudes and reactions to events during this trip as I consider these a measure of how much I have changed or am changing/growing. Take the airport goodbye, for example. The day I left for Japan, I was tearing up the entire last day and was not at all ready to leave yet. This time though, I didn't even feel slightly teary until I hugged my brother goodbye, then each of my family members in turn. It was still a bawling session - goodbyes will probably always be really emotional for me - but it was more of a "I'll miss you guys so much," than a "please don't let me go because I can't do this without you."

As another contrast, I spent three full days crying and hiding in my room when I got to Japan, instead of getting to know others in the dorm. I was fully dependent on phone calls home and made little effort to explore. This time, I was homesick for sure, but I was aware of how I felt and was able to compartmentalize a bit more. I really got to know the other interns and left the door of my room open the whole afternoon, which leads to tons of random chats. I've never really lived a dorm life like this before (in Japan, all the international students were pretty exclusive), and I'm kinda liking it.

The trip over was lengthy to say the least. Hadn't slept all day, 7:30pm flight, stop-over in Calgary, red-eye flight (just learned this term - hoorah!) to Halifax, but rerouted to Moncton (New Brunswick) because of low visibility (apparently, this is common) for almost two hours! 40-minute bus ride to Halifax proper where I met Liz Ito (2 hours late) for fish & chips on the boardwalk, then met Maria (the other intern going with me to Peru) at the bus station for a 3-hour bus ride to Antigonish. THEN, when I got to the dorm, my keys wouldn't work! It was probably all for the better though, because I was feeling duber sleepy and a little anti-social so the key fiasco gave me an excuse to stay at the dorm rather than go with everyone to the pub.

I went for a short run through Antigonish before hitting the hay and the city is beeeauutiful. The campus seems really new with all these big matching brick buildings connected by little pathways and fields. There are trees and more trees everywhere I turn and everyone is as friendly as people told me they'd be, smiling and waving as I jogged by. Houses are quaint and often have porches with wicker chairs; doors are wide open and welcoming.

I tried to soak it all in and appreciate the beauty, but I have to admit that I'm probably appreciating it more now that I'm writing about it because I was just feeling too overwhelmed and homesick last night. Even though I was tired, I lay in bed at 7pm and didn't fall asleep for hours. I felt guilty for being anti-social and skipping out on pub night and getting to know the crowd, but I'm trying to find that balance between being the private person that I am, but still occasionally participating in the group, which is what our time here in Antigonish is partly about.

The first day of orientation went by so fast. It was a really good mix of introductions, icebreakers, group bonding, discussions, and other miscellaneous but important tasks. I liked how during one part, we separated into small groups and had discussions on guidelines/agreements for how we wanted to be as a group in the dorm, at school, and when making group decisions. Our ideas ranged from the classic "being respectful of others' opinions" to more specific such as "washing dishes immediately after using them" and "sitting in a new seat each day" (so we get to know everyone). It seems like the simplest idea, to make group agreements and I've already been exposed to these on the Child Psychiatry Unit during group therapy sessions, but I didn't realise how powerful these agreements could be. Clarifying our expectations of each other really helped solidify the group.

We also had a tour of the Marie Michael library, which apparently, has the best collection of materials on international development in Canada. I'm so excited to have fallen into this field and can feel myself slowly growing more excited about development issues, especially being surrounded by and absorbing knowledge from all these great minds who are passionate about global health, sustainability, ending poverty, and other monumental issues that I would have never concerned myself with before this internship. I know so little.

All the interns going to Peru (there are four of us) are coming to my room for a Spanish session in a few minutes (as in, they speak and I will probably just listen, haha!) so I should probably sign off. Ciao!