The Halfway Point

Perdón, I’m still catching up on posts, since July was a whole month of travel, travel, travel. After leaving our first placements, we settled in Lima again for our mid-year orientation at the Fulbright Peru Commission offices in San Borja. I adore Lima for many reasons, and this visit only confirmed that. I went surfing twice, explored print fairs, went out to bars, tried to get into a karaoke club (we left when they told us the entry fee was 70 soles!!), ate vegan tacu tacu, drank countless cups of coffee at Puku Puku, celebrated my 23rd birthday (thank you Eliza and Isis for my birthday alpaca slippers, very mindful of y'all), named my imposter syndrome, learned how my L1 interferes with my L2 and vice versa, and soaked up time with my friends. We were there during the week of Las Fiestas Patrias, or the week-long celebration of Peruvian Independence, culminating on July 28. It gave an extra air of excitement and festivity to the city that we drank in greedily, feeling free of responsibility for the first time since March. Every time I come to Lima, I fall more in love with its views and vibes, although I know how sheltered we are spending most of our time in the neighborhoods of Miraflores, San Isidro, and Barranco.

Lima is huge, one of the biggest cities I’ve ever been to, and I’ve only explored a fraction of it. Every time I come to Lima I feel like I’m living a fairytale nomadic life, and every time I leave I feel like I’ve just experienced a fever-dream of privileged city living. (Mini rant warning:) Peru is often divided into two parts in the national consciousness: Lima, and the “Provincias” (provinces, aka, the rest of the entire country). In one sense, it’s completely problematic to otherize and generalize the rest of Peru as just “provinces,” while hailing Lima City as the peak of Peruvian culture and ‘civilization,’ which is often the underlying connotation. On the other hand, having lived in extremely rural parts of Peru as well as the urbanized Lima, I see the stark differences and I understand, but don't love, the idolization of Lima from afar. However, as much as I’m excited to go back in November and explore Lima more, espeically to go surfing again, “Las Provincias” have my corazón. Tourist Lima is a bubble, a burbuja with strong Western influences and an unconscious air of superiority. To travel only to Lima is to rob yourself of the complete Peruvian experience and culture, even though the city is replete with monuments and museums. Just something to keep in mind!

Anyways, after a week in Lima, we jetsetted off to Montevideo, Uruguay, to attend the Fulbright ETA Mid-year Enhancement Seminar. We stayed 3 days at the conference, attending different seminars, presentations, and workshops while meeting ETAs from Uruguay, Panama, Honduras, Paraguay, Guatemala, and Costa Rica, who were all so lovely! I didn't realize it until we were all commiserating together, but it was a much-needed affirmation of the ETA experience. Though we all have slightly different responsibilities or daily schedules, we've all faced some degree of isolation, fear, imposter syndrome, discrimination, judgement, and culture shock, and it was nice to feel not as alone in our experience.

The seminar also made me feel so grateful for the Commission we have, since many countries (all except us and Uruguay) are post countries, meaning they have no group or commission helping them assimilate into their placements. All the post countries only had two ETAs, and often they were placed on opposite sides of the their country. In Uruguay, although they have 8 ETAs, they aren't sent to two schools like we are in Peru. Instead, the Uruguayan teaching system is kind of free-lance, where teachers work in a rotational or contracted system. Therefore, a teacher could teach kindergarten in one school one day, or could teach a college course at a university the next. Basically, they can pick which classes they want to pick up, and where (I'm pretty sure). Therefore, the Uruguayan ETAs also work rotationally, entering to 3-4 different schools a week, meaning they don't necessarily have time to connect with students on the same level as we do in the COARs every day. It was really interesting to see the different ETA systems and setups from different countries, but I think we all left Uruguay feeling pretty good about having chosen Perú.

Montevideo was gorgeous to me, as any major city near a body of water captures my heart instantly. Although we were a little culture shocked by the brusque attitude of most Uruguayans, we enjoyed exploring the city in the snatches of time between conference meetings. A lot of Uruguay felt shocking after living in Peru for so long. They use Uruguayan pesos, and after paying in soles since March, it took a second to adjust to dinner being over 300 pesos, while a meal in Peru rarely goes above 20 soles. Uruguay is the most expensive country in South America. The other thing that shocked us was the food quality. I’m sure if you cooked for yourself it wouldn’t be bad, but most restaurants we went to had meals that were below average, taste-wise (Not to complain! It’s just Peru has one of the richest and most varied gastronomies in SA). Salt is “banned” in Uruguay, so you won’t find any salt shakers or packets in restaurants unless you specifically order them to the table. I’ve also learned that Uruguay is the whitest country in Latin America (80% white, possibly why their food was so bad), and I was surprised to find that they have little indigenous history remaining. Most indigenous Uruguayans were persecuted or pushed into Paraguay, and besides the language of Guaraní, not much is known about their culture and customs. In fact, the main indigenous group in Uruguay, the Charrúa, were forcibly exterminated and massacred by the Uruguayan government in the 1830s, and up until recent years, little of their culture remained in Uruguay.  

Despite that, we did get to experience many beautiful things in Uruguay, like the art of candombé, which is an Afro-Uruguayan cultural manifestation of dance and music. Afro-Uruguayans are the main ethnic-racial minority of the country (8.1% of the population), and we had the privilege of attending a candombé concert our second night in Montevideo. I hate to admit that as a group, we were already exhausted by the second night. When we first arrived at the Asociación Civil Africanía (Africana Civil Association), a lecturer began to present the history of candombé and the association’s work with candombé–I think. I’m ashamed to say that the lecturer’s voice was so soothing and, after a day full of presentations and workshops, my brain no longer had the energy to pay attention to anything, much less in Uruguayan-accented Spanish. I caught myself dozing off in my chair a few times, but when I looked around guiltily, I wasn’t alone. Almost every ETA was struggling to keep their eyes open in the hot, crowded, tiny room while our lecturer’s soporific monologue worked its magic. 

However, we were immediately roused the minute they started the musical presentation. They had four men come out one by one and demonstrate the different rhythms and sounds made by their tambores (drums). I can still hear the repique tambor with its rapid “hear me, see me now,” beat, the hollow sound ringing light and full: tak, tak tak, bah doom bum. I felt like the tambores were talking to each other as their musicians beat out familiar patterns on the tan skin stretched across the barrels. 

“Hear me? Can you see me do it? 

tak, tak tak, bah doom bum.”

“Hear me loud now, hear me slow.”

Then, one by one, other members of the group came in with other instruments or in costumes and began dancing to the beat. The piano and the bombón tambor tapped out a deeper rhythm, driving it hard into our souls, so loud my feet could feel it through the floorboards. Finally, a woman came out and began singing alongside the drumbeats, and towards the end, everyone was up and dancing carelessly. I’ve never known dance or music to energize me as much as that presentation did: the rhythm swept me up and twirled me around while fellow ETAs tapped their feet or swung partners around. It was a moment where the room was filled with pure emotion, activity, joy, and happiness, and I won’t soon forget it. I was so invigorated afterwards that Eliza, Aiden, and I decided to walk the 40 minutes back to the hotel instead of taking the bus, enjoying the views along the Rambla at night and feeling the ocean breeze rifle through our jackets. 

The rest of our trip was limited to the hotel, mostly, although we did get a cool walking tour of the Old City in the center of Montevideo, where I spotted lots of cool street art, and we went to the Musem of the Andes, where they have memorialized artifacts, letters, testimonies, etc of the horrific plane crash in 1972 where an Uruguayan rugby team were trapped in the Andes Mountains for over two months, surviving in the hull of the wrecked plane. We biked along the Rambla, which is like the Malecón in Miraflores: a huge stretch of sidewalk for bikers, skaters, walkers, and all pedestrians to converge on next to the coastline. It’s a beautiful place, and we saw lots of young and old Uruguayans sitting on benches, drinking their maté, walking dogs and playing volleyball on the beach, the quintessential utopian beach town even in the middle of winter. I wish the seminar had been more than 3 days, so we could truly experience Montevideo without falling asleep every hour from exhaustion, but I feel incredibly grateful to have traveled there at all. Another country off my list! 

Returning from Uruguay was tough. We had one day in Lima to finish running errands and picking up toiletries, medicines, groceries, etc. that we wouldn’t find in our placement towns. The next morning, Aiden and I flew to Cusco with one of the Fulbright Commission employees, Lurka. After a night in Cusco, we took a 6 hour bus to Abancay, in the department of Apurimac, pulling into the terminal at 10 pm. From Abancay, we caught a ride with a random truck two hours to our actual placement town, Chalhuanca. In all, it was about a full day of traveling, and it was extremely tough for me, especially since my grandfather’s celebration of life took place that day, and I was unable to attend. There was a lot of stress and emotions that week, becaues we hadn’t yet found permanent housing in Chalhuanca, and we were worried that our only option was going to slip out of our hands. We spent the next three days in Hotel Zegarra, one of the two hotels in Chalhuanca, while we attempted to find adequate housing and met with the English teachers at the COAR. Living out of a suitcase is not something I enjoy, but I’ve gotten really good at it, and I’m a packing professional at this point. So that was our hectic, jam-packed July that bled quickly into August. Aiden and I have settled in Chalhuanca at this point, and I’m excited to tell you all about how it compares to Oxapampa, and the experiences we’ve been having. Spoiler alert: it’s been wonderful despite the initial stress. Besos!