Monday, June 3, 2019
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
A Flying Visit To Virginia
Last week I flew back to the States to attend a cousin's wedding. It was a very special time, and wonderful to see family and friends again. Sadly the whole family couldn't come (tickets to/from Peru can be pricey) and Michael held down the fort magnificently while I was away.
We have an empleada who comes in three days a week to help with cleaning and cooking, and I had asked a young lady from church to come over every afternoon to help with the kids. I meant the younger kids, but I heard that Jane and Ella had a great time teaching her English and learning Spanish from her.
I came back at exactly the right time. Mid-April is surely one of the most beautiful times of the year, right when spring is in full bloom. The trees were blossoming and the grass was fresh and green. The smells and colors were so intense and overwhelming, and I definitely felt a tinge of homesickness--but I'm glad to be back in Chiclayo with my family now. There are lovely flowers here, and quite a bit of green.
It was almost comical to see the kinds of foods I was missing. For instance, I've always liked peanut butter, but I wouldn't classify it as a favorite food. Suddenly I was craving it, and couldn't get enough of it. There's no natural peanut butter available in Peru, just your typical hydrogenated-oil-and-sugar-laced stuff, and it's pretty expensive, so I haven't bought it. After two and a half months with no peanut butter, apparently I really wanted some! Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
When we do return to America, I'm sure I'll look on everything with a kinder and more grateful eye. Nothing like deprivation to make us appreciate what we have.
We have an empleada who comes in three days a week to help with cleaning and cooking, and I had asked a young lady from church to come over every afternoon to help with the kids. I meant the younger kids, but I heard that Jane and Ella had a great time teaching her English and learning Spanish from her.
I came back at exactly the right time. Mid-April is surely one of the most beautiful times of the year, right when spring is in full bloom. The trees were blossoming and the grass was fresh and green. The smells and colors were so intense and overwhelming, and I definitely felt a tinge of homesickness--but I'm glad to be back in Chiclayo with my family now. There are lovely flowers here, and quite a bit of green.
It was almost comical to see the kinds of foods I was missing. For instance, I've always liked peanut butter, but I wouldn't classify it as a favorite food. Suddenly I was craving it, and couldn't get enough of it. There's no natural peanut butter available in Peru, just your typical hydrogenated-oil-and-sugar-laced stuff, and it's pretty expensive, so I haven't bought it. After two and a half months with no peanut butter, apparently I really wanted some! Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
When we do return to America, I'm sure I'll look on everything with a kinder and more grateful eye. Nothing like deprivation to make us appreciate what we have.
I got back just in time to attend Book Tea. Ah, the food!!
The Audubon bird sanctuary where the wedding was. So beautiful!
Charcuterie!
All seven sibs.
And the original Garber family.
The happy couple, my lovely cousin Vanessa and her great guy Ryan.
Best wedding cake ever: Ice cream sandwiches!
Thomas and I got to see Captain Marvel. Movies may be cheap in Peru, but they're all dubbed in Spanish.
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
A True Story
In Spanish, bread is called pan. Bakeries are called panaderias. We've been buying many, many bags of fresh rolls whenever we find a panaderia, but sometimes we still run out. (We eat a lot.)
Then we discovered that the annoying horn-tooting sound circulating in our neighborhood around 5:00 every day was a pan vendor, vending pan. (There are street side vendors for everything, and there are vendors pushing carts or riding on motorcycles delivering to neighborhoods.) I ran out with my purse and asked how much it cost. There were some sweet rolls that were a bit pricier, but the basic rolls we all love were 10 for a sol. So I bought some, and we all had fresh bread for dinner.
The vendors were literally pan-handlers.
Sunday, March 10, 2019
On Our Own
So we found a place to live, and we've survived the first week doing all our own cooking, cleaning, shopping, clothes-drying, mosquito-killing, water sanitation, flood mitigation....you know, typical new home stuff in your average developing nation.
Tolkien wrote about happy days slipping by into oblivion like pearls on a necklace, while tales that are palpitating, perilous, and even gruesome make a deal of telling (I can't remember the exact quote and I can't reference it because I don't have my books--they are all packed up in Virginia).
I'll write later about the search for a house--well, bother, now I'm starting to sound like The Never-ending Story (the book, not the movie) where every promising lead fades into "But that's another story that shall be told another time"--and then it isn't. I will try to follow up about everything eventually, though.
This past week has been fully occupied with survival and figuring things out, but I hope we're falling into something of a routine and will have more free time in the weeks to come. Well, we're already doing better on the sleep front due to Peru not participating in Daylight Savings Time!
Tolkien wrote about happy days slipping by into oblivion like pearls on a necklace, while tales that are palpitating, perilous, and even gruesome make a deal of telling (I can't remember the exact quote and I can't reference it because I don't have my books--they are all packed up in Virginia).
I'll write later about the search for a house--well, bother, now I'm starting to sound like The Never-ending Story (the book, not the movie) where every promising lead fades into "But that's another story that shall be told another time"--and then it isn't. I will try to follow up about everything eventually, though.
This past week has been fully occupied with survival and figuring things out, but I hope we're falling into something of a routine and will have more free time in the weeks to come. Well, we're already doing better on the sleep front due to Peru not participating in Daylight Savings Time!
Enjoying dinner at the local polleria. I can't believe I didn't get a picture of the actual pollo a la brasa y papas fritas.
Shopping for a new clothesline. Didn't buy this one. Still looking.
Watching a dump truck dump stuff into the construction zone next door.
Celebrating a successful braces/dentist consultation.
Our landlords graciously left some games for us. Michael was showing me the sequence he created.
At the dentist.
On our way downtown to change money.
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
The Church in Chiclayo
I want to talk a little bit about Bautista Iglesia Fundamental Gracia, because in a way that is a huge part of why we are here. Just over a year ago, we were contemplating moving somewhere more southerly, and Peru was one of the countries at the top of our list.
I had been talking with a brother about plans for that year, and he mentioned that he and a couple other siblings were planning to travel to Machu Picchu that summer. I jokingly said that we might move to Peru next year, and if they could wait a year they could visit us. So they waited, and we moved. Now it's time for them to visit us. =)
About that time, my family told me about a Peruvian family that had visited their church and presented in the Spanish-speaking Sunday School. They were building a church in Peru, and my family thought it might be good to talk with them. So we invited them over for dinner, explained our idea about moving to another country for a year or so to learn Spanish, among other things, and asked what they suggested. Note that my Spanish was very rusty, and they did not speak English fluently (although we both understood a bit of each other's language). Their oldest daughter did speak English, and my Spanish-speaking brother Benjamin joined us for dinner to help translate if necessary. But it wasn't really necessary. We manage to communicate pretty well, and they recommended Chiclayo (where they lived) as a fine place to live. They invited us to come visit them, and welcomed us to join their church and participate in the ministry.
We were interested, and made plans accordingly. In August Michael and I traveled to Chiclayo for a scouting expedition, and when we returned without mishap--without getting sick, or robbed, or lost--we decided that we could live there. So we began making plans for the move.
The church was meeting in a small donated space downtown, but recently their landlord needed the building, so they found a new place. I assume the rent is cheap, but the church members are likely poor, and the best thing is to get settled in a new church building. They are looking for a building to buy or for land on which to build. I'm hoping we can help with creating fundraisers in the US so that others can have the opportunity to participate by contributing toward the building/land purchase. It's insane how far money goes here, and how much good can be done with so little. It makes me conscious all over again of my American privilege, and how blessed we are (were?) to live in a country where wealth is so readily available and disposable income so plentiful. Poor people in America have nothing on the poverty here, where migrant Venezuelans vend tiny pieces of candy in the streets in the hopes of earning a few centavos, cats and dogs run wild through the streets, and there aren't really food banks or free clinics.
As one example, during the first few days we were here, we learned that the daughter of a church member and dear friend (she served us an amazing meal of ceviche when we were here in August) was taken to the clinic with severe abdominal pains. It turned out to be appendicitis, and she had an appendectomy, after which she went home (I think just a day later) to save money. The clinic doesn't serve food, like a normal hospital, so I went with Sra. Balcazar (our host and the pastor's wife) to bring breakfast to the family. Sra. Balcazar told me that the bills were about s/2.500 (2,500 Peruvian soles, or about $781.25) and that without health insurance, they couldn't pay it. I would love to see some kind of ministry whereby we could set up a way for Americans to contribute both to the building of the church and other mercy needs of destitute members. If any one has experience with this--I'm thinking something more long-term and sustainable than GoFundMe--please reach out and let's talk.
The church meets on Sunday mornings, Tuesday evenings, Friday evenings, and there is a Bible Study on Saturdays. I don't always understand all the words, but I'm able to catch the gist of much of it. For example, one recent sermon was on the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. We all read about the Pharisee's boast: "Ayuno dos veces a la semana." Aha! Breakfast here is called desayuno, and I realized that the word's construction is much the same as ours: break fast, des ayuno.
There is much more to say but my laptop is getting hot so I'll close with a few pictures:
I had been talking with a brother about plans for that year, and he mentioned that he and a couple other siblings were planning to travel to Machu Picchu that summer. I jokingly said that we might move to Peru next year, and if they could wait a year they could visit us. So they waited, and we moved. Now it's time for them to visit us. =)
About that time, my family told me about a Peruvian family that had visited their church and presented in the Spanish-speaking Sunday School. They were building a church in Peru, and my family thought it might be good to talk with them. So we invited them over for dinner, explained our idea about moving to another country for a year or so to learn Spanish, among other things, and asked what they suggested. Note that my Spanish was very rusty, and they did not speak English fluently (although we both understood a bit of each other's language). Their oldest daughter did speak English, and my Spanish-speaking brother Benjamin joined us for dinner to help translate if necessary. But it wasn't really necessary. We manage to communicate pretty well, and they recommended Chiclayo (where they lived) as a fine place to live. They invited us to come visit them, and welcomed us to join their church and participate in the ministry.
We were interested, and made plans accordingly. In August Michael and I traveled to Chiclayo for a scouting expedition, and when we returned without mishap--without getting sick, or robbed, or lost--we decided that we could live there. So we began making plans for the move.
The church was meeting in a small donated space downtown, but recently their landlord needed the building, so they found a new place. I assume the rent is cheap, but the church members are likely poor, and the best thing is to get settled in a new church building. They are looking for a building to buy or for land on which to build. I'm hoping we can help with creating fundraisers in the US so that others can have the opportunity to participate by contributing toward the building/land purchase. It's insane how far money goes here, and how much good can be done with so little. It makes me conscious all over again of my American privilege, and how blessed we are (were?) to live in a country where wealth is so readily available and disposable income so plentiful. Poor people in America have nothing on the poverty here, where migrant Venezuelans vend tiny pieces of candy in the streets in the hopes of earning a few centavos, cats and dogs run wild through the streets, and there aren't really food banks or free clinics.
As one example, during the first few days we were here, we learned that the daughter of a church member and dear friend (she served us an amazing meal of ceviche when we were here in August) was taken to the clinic with severe abdominal pains. It turned out to be appendicitis, and she had an appendectomy, after which she went home (I think just a day later) to save money. The clinic doesn't serve food, like a normal hospital, so I went with Sra. Balcazar (our host and the pastor's wife) to bring breakfast to the family. Sra. Balcazar told me that the bills were about s/2.500 (2,500 Peruvian soles, or about $781.25) and that without health insurance, they couldn't pay it. I would love to see some kind of ministry whereby we could set up a way for Americans to contribute both to the building of the church and other mercy needs of destitute members. If any one has experience with this--I'm thinking something more long-term and sustainable than GoFundMe--please reach out and let's talk.
The church meets on Sunday mornings, Tuesday evenings, Friday evenings, and there is a Bible Study on Saturdays. I don't always understand all the words, but I'm able to catch the gist of much of it. For example, one recent sermon was on the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. We all read about the Pharisee's boast: "Ayuno dos veces a la semana." Aha! Breakfast here is called desayuno, and I realized that the word's construction is much the same as ours: break fast, des ayuno.
There is much more to say but my laptop is getting hot so I'll close with a few pictures:
The congregation worshipping
Entering the church
Helping set up
Sunday School class presentation
Family portrait
Visiting Yamileh in the clinic
Baby dedication
Lots of children
We went to visit Mercy and she cooked us a meal!
More classes
No air conditioning!
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
The Long Road North
Well, we made it. After a whirlwind week in Lima--which I thought had left us plenty of time to see sights, visit a beach or two, tour the city, and visit with everyone we wanted to connect with, but which ended up being barely enough time to conduct the essentials necessary for the next part of our journey--we woke up before dawn on Saturday--for the second Saturday in a row--packed up the car, and set off across the country, heading due north along the coastline.
The drive was long and colorful. It took us over an hour just to get outside of Lima, with only a wrong turn or two to set us back. We had our first adventure on the outskirts of Lima, when we were pulled over by la policia, who informed us--as we eventually figured out--that we had committed an infraction by not having our headlights on, and that they were going to give us a ticket, unless we gave them 300 soles. At first I thought they were telling us the ticket--"Boleta"--was 300 soles, and after trying to explain in rudimentary Spanish that I didn't have that money on me, but that if they gave me the ticket, I would visit the bank in Chiclayo and pay the ticket then, we realized that they wanted the money now. At that point Michael realized it was probably a corruption racket, and encouraged me to talk our way out of it. So I pointed to the children crammed into the car and said, "No tengo 300 soles. Mis soles son para almuerza para mis ninos." Eventually they must have decided we weren't worth the trouble, and they waved us on, with another warning about las luces.
The road we took was the main road up the coast--something Pan America--and yet it had the occasional speed bump in cities. We'd approach a city and see a sign stating "Fin de Autopista," and them boom, there'd be a city with speed bumps, traffic, and rubble-filled streets. Eventually there'd be another sign saying "Inicio Autopista," and we were off to the races.
Much of the countryside was desolate desert, with sand and rocks the primary scenery. But as we headed north we saw more cultivated regions.
We had a luggage rack for our car, and crammed as much as we could into that. But we were still tightly squeezed into the body of the car, with two seats out of eight folded up. Two girls shared a seat in the back row and I held Becca, who was getting over a few days' of fever and stomach trouble, on my lap.
To cut a long story in about fifths, we made it to Chiclayo after about 14 hours on the road, to a very warm welcome. More about our friends in Chiclayo in a future post. For now, some pictures of our journey:
The drive was long and colorful. It took us over an hour just to get outside of Lima, with only a wrong turn or two to set us back. We had our first adventure on the outskirts of Lima, when we were pulled over by la policia, who informed us--as we eventually figured out--that we had committed an infraction by not having our headlights on, and that they were going to give us a ticket, unless we gave them 300 soles. At first I thought they were telling us the ticket--"Boleta"--was 300 soles, and after trying to explain in rudimentary Spanish that I didn't have that money on me, but that if they gave me the ticket, I would visit the bank in Chiclayo and pay the ticket then, we realized that they wanted the money now. At that point Michael realized it was probably a corruption racket, and encouraged me to talk our way out of it. So I pointed to the children crammed into the car and said, "No tengo 300 soles. Mis soles son para almuerza para mis ninos." Eventually they must have decided we weren't worth the trouble, and they waved us on, with another warning about las luces.
The road we took was the main road up the coast--something Pan America--and yet it had the occasional speed bump in cities. We'd approach a city and see a sign stating "Fin de Autopista," and them boom, there'd be a city with speed bumps, traffic, and rubble-filled streets. Eventually there'd be another sign saying "Inicio Autopista," and we were off to the races.
Much of the countryside was desolate desert, with sand and rocks the primary scenery. But as we headed north we saw more cultivated regions.
We had a luggage rack for our car, and crammed as much as we could into that. But we were still tightly squeezed into the body of the car, with two seats out of eight folded up. Two girls shared a seat in the back row and I held Becca, who was getting over a few days' of fever and stomach trouble, on my lap.
To cut a long story in about fifths, we made it to Chiclayo after about 14 hours on the road, to a very warm welcome. More about our friends in Chiclayo in a future post. For now, some pictures of our journey:
Shanty town on the hills outside Lima. No wonder there are so many fatalities every time there's an earthquake or mudslide.
These bathrooms are hygienic AND free!
Desolate desert
Mototaxi and fruit vendor in one city we passed through
And just like that, the highway can end
Nobody in here but us sardines
On the road to Chiclayo
Cultivated regions
Still on the right track
The cities and streets have such interesting names
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