Finder's Keepers

"Who is this Native American, complete with big feather head-dress, sitting in the front seat of our van smashed between Pancho (the driver) and Jesse (the front seat passenger)," I thought to myself as we were safely back in the van after the Nazca Lines adventure.

This little Peruvian shaman was now escorting us to his tiny museum a few minutes down the road. His scent of not bathing for a few days wafted toward me and I wondered how he suckered us into this. We arrived at his museum and looked around at the small, dusty collection of various bones, shark teeth, shards of pottery, and the worst taxidermy I had ever seen.

We saw a disheveled puma lunging at us with parts of its tan fur falling off and large black condor with its tattered wings spread wide. Its wingspan was more than my outstretched arms and its sharp beak and talons made me glad it was frozen in time. We also saw mummified human heads with hair and old cloth headbands still attached. Weird! This tiny museum also had mummified macaws (feathers were still surprisingly colorful), a dog, a monkey, and some babies. Ewww, strange. It made me interested to visit a nearby cemetery with more mummies that I had been reading about. I pictured the strange dried up mummies I had seen in Guanajuato Mexico many years ago.

The shaman then announced that he was going to perform some sort of ritual on us. He was going to balance our energies. Now this shaman (unlike the one yesterday) looked how a real shaman should look. He was a few inches shorter than me with rich brown skin and black eyes and shoulder-length, slightly messy hair. He wore a red cloth top and shorts, necklaces of long teeth and bones, and leather sandals. His headband had two large feathers sticking up from the front. After putting his wooden shaman walking stick/staff down, he picked up a bottle of orange liquid from his little table of supplies. We stood in a circle in the back of the museum (now, as I'm writing, I wonder what on earth someone would have thought had they walked in during this ritual).

The healer started by pouring some orange liquid out of the plastic water bottle (this container was the one part that didn't seem so "authentic") into his hands. He would then dab some on our foreheads, necks and palms. I didn't want him to touch my neck (and I guess I was a little skeptical of having the liquid put on my face as well). My turn came and I closed my eyes and inhaled the odor of strong smelling liquid, but couldn't place what it actually smelled like (aftershave, maybe?). Shaman man then instructed us to turn our palms to face the people's next to us in the circle and hold them a few inches apart. We had to close our eyes and he told us to feel the energy passing around the circle. He gently shook a rattle from our heads to the back of our knees as he walked around the outside of the circle. I could feel the warmth of the energy from the hands of the people next to me...of course, that could have also been slight burn of the unknown liquid that had been slathered on my hands. The medicine man finished the ceremony by dabbing some eucalyptus oil on the center of our foreheads. We all felt more calm and centered.

Energies balanced we loaded up the van and I insisted we drive the 30 minutes down the road to the cemetery to find some more bizarre mummies. Eucalyptus filled the van.

Chauchilla Cemetery looked like an expanse of sand and rocks. There were no grave markers or much of anything to signify anything was really there. Wait, there was a small blue sign and a hut where a woman was selling various sodas and chips. There were also a few huts spread between a path lined by painted white rocks. Apparently, most of the graves had been ransacked by grave robbers, so the site wasn't in as good of condition as it perhaps could have been.

Pancho lead us among the big pits that have been cleared and set up with bones and "mummies." While quite an unsual sight, many of the mummies were a pile of something (I guess we were supposed to assume the body, but I suspected something more like rocks, sand or maybe some bones) covered in tattered old cloth with a skull placed on top. It was pretty gross. We walked among the different pits and gawked at each different one. Some of the skulls still had long black hair attached. We are talking feet and feet of hair. Yuck! Pancho even joked that one of the pits had Rastafarian mummies and sure enough these three mummies did appear to have long black dreadlocks.

After being sufficiently grossed out by the mummies, we got back in our van and drove back down the bumpy, sandy road. Pancho was driving particularly fast, but I wasn't sure why. We had some lunch in Nazca and insisted on choosing the restaurant. While Pancho knew a lot about travel in Peru, he did not seem to have the best skill at choosing good restaurants. We had nightmares about the chain Peruvian TGI Friday's-esque restaurant he dropped us off at on Friday night.

Three hours back to our next stop in seaside Paracas. long the way, Elizabeth and I insisted we stop at the huge super store Plaza Vea in Ica which had first visited yesterday. At Plaza Vea "todo custa menos" (everything costs less), so you can imagine this super store like an clean oasis in the dustiness of the rest of our trip. The two of us were now hooked on these great treats called Kiwilocos which are chocolate (more accurately, rather, some chocolate substitute) covered crisps (like Rice Krispies) with a shockingly low calorie count and we needed to stock up. Elizabeth and I feared we could not get them in Ayacucho, so we bought out the store. All 14 of the 100 gram packs that the store had were now ours (minus one that we were guilted into giving to a girl in our group who wanted one pack). We discussed the potentially lucrative exporting options to the United States and vowed to investigate more later. (Elizabeth since emailed the company to ask about this, but only received a bounce back message saying that it wasn't a real email address...however, we have not lost hope in the business opportunity).

We arrived in Paracas, I enjoyed a long hot shower, and went to bed.

Finder's Keepers, Pat Green

I'm Trying to Find It

¨Happy Father's Day,¨ we all toasted Pancho, our tour guide, at breakfast this morning, as none of us had our own fathers present with whom to celebrate. At this point in our weekend we all started calling him Papa Pancho and I told everyone they would win the most points if they called him that in front of other Peruvians in public.

Today's adventure-seeing a UNESCO World Heritage sight-the Nazca Lines (http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/700). We loaded up Papa Pancho's van and headed to the small airport in Nazca. You have to see the lines from above, so we were going to have to take a tiny airplane and fly over them. It was a cloudy morning, so no planes were allowed to take off. Thus, we had to wait. Papa Pancho decided to take us to a pottery studio where we would learn about the pottery from the region.

Back in the van we went and about a minute down the road later we were at the pottery studio. All seven us took a seat around a long rectangular table with soft red clay and various painted pots placed on it. I could tell many a pots had been created here. The worn wooden table had remnants of dried clay and dust covering it.

A larger Peruvian man told us how his grandfather discovered some ancient Nazca pottery in a cemetery and figured out that because of the finger indentions inside, the pots were made without using a wheel. He went on to tell us how the pots are still made today according to traditional methods. The whole time he was talking he was working on smoothing out a small clay pot on the table in front of him. He told us about how the pots are fired only once...not like other pots that are fired once, then painted, then fired again, for a total of two times...but these pots are only fired once (a point he belabored). The man showed us how different glazes were made from different minerals in the area and he showed us the brushes they use. The bristles of the thin paint brushes were made of about two inches of soft baby hair. Human baby hair. Hmm...interesting.

When he finished talking, we were then escorted to the room full of pottery painted with earthen colors and intricate designs, which, of course, we were free to buy. I browsed a little, but pictured any of my purchases broken into hundreds of piece by the time I arrived back to Dallas so I decided not to get anything.

After a few minutes of browsing, Pancho told us the potter wanted to give us a present--for free. Right, for "free." Ok, what strings are attached? He gives it to us for "free" then we pay him or buy something else. No, Pancho assured me for real free. OK then. So we each got a little key chain with a black or brown rock attached with a different Nazca line formation etched into it depending on our astrological sign. I got a the monkey formation (see picture of real formation above) and was excited that Scorpio didn´t get the shaft for once. I fastened my new key chain to a zipper on my black bag I carry everywhere and said thanks.

Back to the airport for some more waiting. I read a little while, helping my growing pages read per day average which is bigger than it has been in a long time. The weather is colder than we expected so I put some tights on under my jeans and wished I hadn't left my warm hat in Ayacucho. I paid the airport tax so I would be allowed to fly. I have now encountered this several times and still don't understand why this is not included in the price of the ticket.

So the plane we were going to fly in is too small to hold our whole group of 7, so two of us have to go in another plane (that really tells you just how small these planes are). Adam and I are selected to ride in another plane and soon I can hear the roar of planes taking off. Adam and I say good-bye to our amigos and we go through the security line which simply involved one pass of a hand-held metal detector and a peek inside our bags. We meet our jovial pilot dressed professionally in his pilot uniform and our other three passengers. They were from some Spansish speaking country and one woman was wearing a Dallas Cowboys hat. I tell her I am from Dallas. She smiles. I can tell she doesn´t really care.

Getting more and more nervous by the minute about this flight, we walked down the runway to our plane. The whole walk Adam and I are joking about how old the planes look. The little red fire extinguishers sitting by every plane are not making me feel better. We get to the end of the line of planes to find two of the oldest looking planes. Of course we find out that one of these green and white death traps is ours. The happy pilot insisted that we take several pictures. One all together. One with just me and Adam. A lot of the other passengers. One by the propeller on the front. One sitting in the tiny seats. The other passengers seem way more into taking pictures than we are.

Adam and I get chosen to sit in the back of the plane. There is just enough room for us to sit side by side. No room to spare. I make sure the air sick bag is handy just in case. Considering my apprehension (ugh, rather extreme fear) when in turbulence in big airplanes, I still wasn't sure how I was going to handle this little aircraft. Deep breathing. Happy thoughts. We puttered down the runway and somehow to make it off the ground. Yep, just as scary as I was imagining. One big gust of wind and we would be goners. The plane moved back and forth easily as if we were sledding on a very slippery surface. Panic was over taking me and I looked around the plane with worried eyes. No one else seemed nervous in the least. It would be OK. It would be OK. Somehow I managed to relax slightly and tried to look out of the plane. Ahh, why are we turning at such a drastic angle!! Ahhh, we are going down!

Nope, in fact the pilot was just circling to show us the first set of lines. It would OK. I was looking out of the small plane window at the reddish ground below. I couldn't see these famous lines anywhere. I stared below trying to find it and all of the sudden my eyes focused on the white outline of a whale. Sure enough, there it was.

The pilot navigated us over the various outlines circling high above each figure to the left then to the right. Just as I was growing accustomed to the movement of the plane, the pilot turns around pointing with both hands at a small map of the figures. Shouldn't he have both hands the wheel! Again, I seemed to be the only one concerned about this.

We listened through our headphones above the loud roar of the engine as our pilot narrated first in Spanish then sometimes in English which figure was what. There was a astronaut (though I can't imagine the creators of the lines actually meant for it to be an astronaut...unless of course you are a believer in the aliens created the lines theory), a spider, a monkey, a heron, a tree, a parrot, a hummingbird (my favorite)..and a few others.

I had been looking forward to seeing these lines for much of my time in Peru and the ride was over all too fast. I tried to enjoy the scenery out of the plane. There were clusters of mountains. The flat ground where the lines were had squiggly lines all over it as if dozens of tiny creeks had once flowed there. Though the brown and red land seemed so dry I couldn´t picture much water ever being there. We flew in a near straight line back to the airport with the black asphault of the Pan-American highway below us. At this point I was sure wishing I had taken my Dramamine (or three) this morning. The movements of the little plane had made me so nauseated and the sun beating down on me sure didn´t help. Almost there, almost there.

Before landing, my life flashed before my eyes yet again, but the expert pilot landed us safely. On wobbly legs I stepped out of the plane into the cool, fresh air, and I breathed a big sigh of relieve when my feet were firmly back on the ground. I lived! I lived to tell about it!

I´m Trying to Find It, Pat Green

Don't Stop Believing

After our great sand boarding adventures this morning, we returned to our hostel to take much needed showers and pack up. We headed out for lunch at the nearby wineries.

The winery we chose had a lovely shaded patio. We order our food before embarking on our education walk. Pancho took us past several rows of grapes to the vats where they make the wine and pisco. He showed us a huge cement vat where each March there is a festival to squish all the grapes. I hoped they cleaned the vats before then. He showed us pictures and told us how people dance around and mash the grapes with their bare feet. I wished I could have been there for that.

Next, he showed us another huge cement vat where the wine and pisco are drained into tall ceramic pots. The old reddish-brown pots were about up to my shoulders and were fat the top and narrow at the bottom. Clearly, these were the traditional jars that were used because many looked extremely worn. Some had to be more than 100 years old.

After the wine fermented in the huge pots, it was poured into a deep hole with a huge kettle at the bottom. I am still not entirely sure of this process, but I gathered that this was now the making pisco part. The liquid would then be heated with a hug fire underneath and allowed to cool and drain through a long skinny tube. We walked around to a little dirt floor room where there was a faucet for the pisco to drain. Above the faucet there was big cross covered with flowers in order to bring a blessing on the whole process. Pancho explained that the liquid would would come out in three different levels. The first that would come out would be blue, and then the liquid would be clear. This clear liquid is the liquid that could be drunk as pisco. Last, it becomes blue again and that would be thrown away.

Finally, we got to try some of this pisco. Our pisco "somalie" handed us tiny clear plastic cups. First, a pisco sour mix (minus the froathy egg whites)-delicious...a little like a margarita. Next, pure pisco (the good stuff though)-yuck! Are you sure you didn't just serve me rubbing alcohol? I'd hate to try the bad stuff. Next, "Peruvian Bailey's" pisco mixed with milk and sugar among some other things-again, delicious! Some sweet wine next and I found out why Peru is not known for their wine-no good. Last, a delicious pecan covered in carmel and chocolate called a tejas--right up my alley!

We enjoyed our lunch on the patio on our yellow table cloth covered table and after a few purchases we headed out. Before leaving Ica though we drove down a bumpy dirt road to a "witch village." All of us expecting extremely weird things, we were a little disappointed.

First stop at the witch village was an old palm tree where three local boys who were maybe about 9 or 10 scrambled to be our guides. Pancho chose one of them and he began telling us about this "seven-headed" tree. The other two boys sat back clearly looking jealous and disgruntled that this first boy got chosen.

It was quite a weird sight as the huge tree had several different "stalks" each growing in different directions. A few of them had even grown under ground only to reemerge to make that part of the tree look like a serpent coming out of the water. There was an elaborate legend which was somewhat hard to decipher as Pancho was translating what the boy said and adding his own ideas in his faulty English. Something about a witch jumping from the top of the old palm tree and maybe a curse somewhere in there. The end of the legend required a lot of imagination. The boy was pointing out different "animals" that parts of the tree looked like. And when I say a lot of imagination, I mean a lot.

Last stop was a "shaman/healer". The outside of his shop was painted with bright colors advertising his services, and while it didn't seem so authentic, I had to give him the benefit of the doubt because he had to make a living too. We entered the "shop" and it was a dark room with a dirt floor. I was frightened by the bookcase containing two rows about about 10 human skulls. The was one candle burning in front of the skull shelf on the floor and a vase of flowers. Creeeepy. I looked around another low table covered with all sorts of jars, shells, carved wooden sticks, potions, small figurines and who knows what else. There was also a doorway leading to another room that had a thin cloth covering the entrance. I wondered what was back there. Finally, I saw the "shaman" and my ever growing doubts were confirmed. This guy was wearing jeans, a button down shirt, and white tennis shoes. What kind of shaman was this? He didn't look like any kind of shaman I had ever pictured. While I guess Peruvian people don't stop believing just because of what he was wearing, I sure did.

We piled back into our van, passing on the option for him to tell our future, and settled in for our two hour drive to Nazca. We watched the sunset over the hazy sand dunes while we drove and it was beautiful.

Don't Stop Believing, Journey

Into the Great Wide Open

After seven hours of driving yesterday afternoon, we arrived in Ica which is on the Southern coast of Peru. We spent the night in a town called Huacachina, which is the most stereotypical oasis in the middle of the desert I have ever seen. The town wasn´t super nice, but the setting was unique.

I was with six other volunteers and our leader was Pancho, the CCS tour guide. My roommate was Elizabeth, a Senior at the University of Georgia who happens to be a Phi Mu (sound similar to anyone else we know?!).

We woke up this morning to some cool weather and some low clouds. We couldn´t see the sun and it was much colder than we had anticipated on the coast, so we decided to have a long breakfast and kill some time before our first adventure. While the bread, jam, butter, and coffee and tea we were given were good, all of us wanted a little more for breakfast. Thus, after asking nicely we enjoyed some eggs too. Poor Pancho had to put up with some picky American eaters this weekend (a vegetarian, a girl who is allergic to gluten, and a girl who just had surgery who can only eat really bland things).

Finally it was time for the adventures to begin and we piled into a huge dune buggy to go sandboarding. We put on our glasses, similar to the kind you had to wear in high school chemistry class, and fastened our safety belts like we were getting ready for a ride at Six Flags. This picture to the left is NOT our group, but it is a picture that I found that looks exactly like the one we rode in.

The engine roared and we headed out over the dunes. We picked up speed and soon came to the top of a huge dune. As we headed over the top I expected to see the ocean, but instead there was a vast expanse of huge sand dunes. We quickly went over the top and the driver sped up as we went straight down the other side of the dune. We all screamed and I was now certain this would be like a roller coaster at Six Flags.

We sped through, over, and around the dunes. The wind was cool and the fog looked beautful over the dunes in the distance. I loved riding. I was laughing and screaming and fully enjoying this. We stopped for some pictures and the grey mist was gorgeous in the distance.

Next, our driver drove us to a tall dune and started getting the sand boards out of the back. We walked to the edge and he put wax on the bottom of the boards. I was reminded of the huge grass hill near our old house my sister and I would slide down on cardboard boxes when we were in elementary school. But this was much taller. And steeper. Pancho and the driver tell us we are going to go down the hill on our stomachs with our heads first. This went against everything I was ever told when sliding down anything.

Nervously (and quite skeptical) I watch the first volunteer give this a try. It was our favorite little Asian with a British accent Vincent who went first. He dragged his feet in the sand to slow himself down. He survived. Next, DAnn, a tall cross country runner from San Antonio. She survived and even went faster than Vincent. Ok, I was ready! I could do this. Adam the sarcastic British guy who lives in New York went next. Another survivor. Thus, I put my board down and took a deep breath. After a little push from the driver, I was off down the hill going faster than I imagined. It was great! Thrilling and fun. My board slowed and came to a hault. I stood up with a cheer and with the relief I had survived. I was ready for more!

Our sand buggy driver picked us up at the bottom and drove us to several more tall dunes. We took turns and each went down. We learned quickly to keep our mouths closed despite the urge to yell in order to keep the flying sand out of our mouths. DAnn and Jesse were brave enough to try sandboarding standing up. I was good on my stomach. Seemed more fun that way.

After sliding down several dunes, we got back in the sand buggy for a drive around. We waved at other groups as we passed. We screamed over hills and I put my hands in the air. I nearly couldn´t control my laughter when my seatbelt/harness came loose a few times on some big bumps...defeating the purpose of the seat belt.

We stopped at another smaller oasis and took some pictures and then our driver drove us around. I loved this part. I was reminded of favorite times tubing behind a ski boat. I pictured my Aunt Dorothy driving us on her ski boat as we clung to the tube behind the boat desperately hanging on as she tried to throw us off. It was so much fun and so was this!

The ride came to an end much too quickly (I could have done it all day) and we piled out to take showers before our next activity. What a fun morning!

Into the Great Wide Open, Tom Petty

I Won´t Back Down

So, did you know they have Olympics in prison? I did not either, but today, I went to the opening ceremony for the Ayacucho Prison Olympics!

We brought volleyball jerseys for the women´s team and I did not fully understand this until we went to the crowded main courtyard for the big ceremony. Marisol and I scooted in late and took our seats under one of the three tents they had set up for the VIPs. (The only time in my life probably I will get to sit at a VIP tent for any kind of Olympics) The sun was hot, so the shade of the tent felt nice. The courtyard, which is a little bigger than a basketball court, was lined by crowds of spectator (ie, the male prisoners not participating as athletes). Our seats in the tent were directly behind the "godmothers" of the teams. These were three women with their hair done up, dressed in their nicest prison clothes, with maroon velvet sashes around them. They were inmates too. They were also holding big bouquets of flowers. I wondered who got these for them. Was it an expense for the Ayacucho prison?

The announcer was rapidly and very loudly narrating. There were at least ten teams, all in different uniforms, all inmates, lined up in front of the VIP tents. Each team had a banner that was held in front of them by eager supporters. But the icing on the cake was definitely the mascots. Yes, there were mascots (Now this explained the huge Silvester the Cat I saw earlier in the hall). There was a Pink Panther, one or two lions, a Tigger (from Winnie the Pooh) and a boxing monkey. All of the mascots were dancing around and acting silly like a good team mascot is supposed to do. Hilarious!

The announcer yelled Spanish into the microphone and a guy stared singing and playing the keyboard even more loudly into the huge amplifiers. Yes, there were huge amplifiers as well as a huge sound board. They pulled out all of the stops for this!

Next, was the lighting and running of the Olympic torch. Wait, they were going to let an inmate run around the other hundreds of inmates with a big burning torch. Yep, sure enough they were. The slim runner dressed in a white soccer uniform and some running shoes proudly held the torch for it to be lit. Then, he ran slowly around the entire courtyard as we cheered. Finally, he placed the torch in an old coffee can that was hung on the end of the courtyard. Soon whatever was inside the coffee can caught fire and the Olympic flame was up and going. I asked Marisol if the flame continues to burn the entire games. She laughed and said no because the games go on for weeks and weeks.

I keep forgetting I am in a prison right now.

Now it was time for the parade of the athletes. The herd of athletes turned and circled around the courtyard so that the would walk right in front of the main tent. Some teams waved to the crowd. Some saluted. The women´s team had traditional dancers from Puno (costumes looks a little like a tacky Quincenera dress mixed with a stripper outfit) dancing preceding their athletes. There were soccer teams, basketball teams, volleyball teams, and even a few boxers. The members of the last team to go were each holding small yellow flags that said, "maxima" on them...as in maximum security. They might as well have said, "I won´t back down...ever" Yikes, I didn´t want to mess with them.

As the parade of athletes was coming to a close, Marisol and I had to leave. Alejandro was waiting in the parking lot to pick us up. Oh, what a day!

I Won´t Back Down, Tom Petty

For So Long

This morning I went back to the prison and had my favorite volunteer experience so far. Today we did not take the children out of the prison for an outing, but rather we helped the older men celebrate Father´s Day.

Alejandro (my favorite driver here) drove Marisol (our volunteer coordinator) and me on the dusty, bumpy road out of town to the prison. Our arms were loaded down with a huge cake, two bottles of red soda (Peruvian Big Red maybe?), and some volleyball jerseys (will be explained in the next post). Our entry today was expedited because of our tardy arrival, me being the only gringa, and we were not taking any children out of the prison. I got my two stamps on my arms thinking, "this is the closest I´ll ever get to having tatoos." There was a quick search and we were inside the walls.

It was a busy day in the prison. There was a big ceremony in the main courtyard (this too will be explained next) and a health campaign with tents and doctors in another courtyard. We entered the women´s area and Marisol was greeted like an old friend. The inmates do not wear uniforms and are all dressed like normal people on the street. Thus, it is difficult to tell who is incarcerated and who is not. There is a small stand with candy and a few other things like juice at the front of the women´s area, so three women seemed to be running that. I smiled and tried to speak with them. One pretty woman was named Carmen and she was particularly happy. I wondered what they were in for.

We also took care of a little business. My jeans as well as another volunteers jeans were torn, so Marisol asked if they could fix them for us. It was going to be about 2 soles (about 60 cents) to fix. What a bargain! I hope I see those jeans again.

While we waited for the Father´s Day celebration, I watched the action that was taking place. There were some people dressed in suits, important people from some company, a man dressed in a green dinosaur mascot suit and his escort, a highly make-uped woman in a tight yellow suit with her hair pulled tightly into various clips. They were walking around passing out big green and blue balls to the children. There were of course several people to take pictures of this to make sure they got the proper media coverage for their do-gooding. It was quite a funny sight particularly because I kept remembering we were in a prison. Also, several of the children were frightened of the dinosaur man because they had no idea what he was. Can´t imagine they see lots of those around a prison.

After a about half an hour of waiting, it was finally time for the Father´s Day celebration. We were escorted through the crowded hallway, through the packed courtyard where the health campaign was taking place, into a smaller room. I think it is normally used for the daycare/nursery. I walked through the long lines of male prisoners waiting for their turn to talk to a doctor and couldn´t help but feel extremely self-conscious. Every eye was on me. I do not say this in a conceited way at all, but in a matter-of-fact every prisoner watched me (the only gringa for miles) coming and going.

A group of about 26 older male prisoners were escorted into the room and they sat in one line on either side of the room. I helped to set out the tres-leches cake we brought on a table at the front of the room. The cake joined piles of churros, small donuts, rolls and sandwiches. The smell of fresh baked pastries surrounded me. I help to pour the red soda into small clear cups for each man, after awkwardly spilling some when I first opened it.

I looked around the room at the men´s tired, wrinkled faces. There eyes looked worn and a little sad and I wondered many things about them. I wondered how long they had been here. I wondered what they did to get in here. I wondered if they were sorry. I wondered where their children were and what they thought. I wondered if the men would get out soon or if some of them would die here.

Soon the "ceremony" started. The main social worker started by welcoming them and introduced the organizations that had helped today and through out the year. When they turned to Marisol and me to thank Cross Cultural Solutions, I wanted to announce, "I only carried the cake." But I didn´t. I just smiled. Then, we passed out the treats. I tried to serve each thing like I was serving my own grandparents. I smiled at each man and looked them in the eyes, (just like my mother taught me) if they did actually look up at me. Several said thank you and about two men looked up and smiled at me as they did. The main social worker wished them a Happy Father´s Day and said that we hoped they would have a good Father´s Day on Sunday with their families.

Marisol offered me a churro and I didn´t take it at first, but thought to myself, "how many times can I enjoy a churro in a Peruvian prison?" It was actually the best churro I have ever had. We enjoyed some more treats and I tried to just keep smiling. Just as I was thinking to myself what a nice, happy little celebration this is, the main social worker stood up to close the ceremony. That was fine. But then, one of the men stood up to say a few words. He was the nice man in the maroon sweater who had smiled at me earlier.

As he spoke, I was over come with emotions. Of course he was speaking in Spanish, so I didn´t understand every word, but I was still touched by the sincerity in his speech. He first said thank you on be half of all of the men and his gratitude is what made me choke up. He continued. My lip quivered. He spoke of how many of their children had gone on with their lives and have forgotten them. Now, I had to turn around and open my eyes really wide to hold the tears back. I looked around at the faces of the other men and thought of how I won´t be with my own father on Father´s Day. However, I get to celebrate later with him. And next year too. However, I wondered when the last time they were with their own children at their own houses for Father´s Day. Or for a birthday. Or for their child´s birthday. I was glad I could be there to celebrate with them. I thought my dad would like this gift better than anything I could have bought or done for him.

Another man spoke too, and by this time I could see the red in a few of the other men´s eyes. Wow, I almost lost it at this point. Several men came up to us after the ceremony to thank and hug us. I was touched by their appreciation and I just wished I could have done more. All I could really do was stand there and smile. I also forgot for several moments that we were in a jail. They were just old men and I didn´t see them as criminals. I even wished they didn´t have to be in here for so long.

For So Long, Honeybrowne

Single Ladies

Negative Nancy from yesterday is gone and optimistic Elizabeth is back!

I switched my placement today and this morning went with one of the other volunteers, Logan, to an all girls private school--Mercedes I liked it SO much better. Just walking into the place instantly made me feel more calm. We were greeted by the school´s assistant head and he enjoyed talking with us for a long time. I practiced my Spanish and am feeling more and more confident everyday. He was interested in why I don´t teach my students to read and write in Spanish (because they are just learning to do this in English). I did reassure him that they begin learning to speak Spanish.

Normally, we would be teaching English, but today they were busy getting ready for their Father´s Day celebration tomorrow. Thus, Logan showed me around the school and we enjoyed speaking with the little girls. The would surround us when they saw us and were eager to talk to us (though many were shy at first).

I think this will be a much better place for me and I am looking forward to the next two weeks there.

Single Ladies, Beyonce