Crack on the bus

Another Thursday adventure. I way lucked out again with the convi thing. I caught one from the Carretera right outside the house all the way downtown. I got a seat this time. It was suprisingly empty. There was a lady that got in right outside of Campo Verde with a big bucket of pomerosa fruits. The cute old woman sitting in front of me bought 3 and then turned around to offer me one. Te invito, she said with a smile. I accepted and then we ate the delicious fruit together. Every so often she would turn around in her seat to make sure I was still eating. Yes I was still eating. And there was also something eating me up inside. I had a copy of Steps to Christ in my purse. I could feel the outline of it through my bag. My dad had sent me some copies in Spanish.

Now, I'm not usually one to pass out books on the street, or really even to talk about God on the street. If it comes up in conversation, that's great. But it usually doesn't. And I don't make an effort to see that it does. 

I thought about it the whole ride there.

I asked her what time it was. 

But nothing else.

When she got off at her stop, she grabbed my hand and smiled at me. I quickly slipped the little paper book into her hand and said, Te regalo. Gracias por la frutita! She took the book with a smile and got off. Why was that so hard to do? 

I continued on with my errands. Post office, print pictures, send emails to bosses, get stuff for Jonathan, pick up flowers from the house (which I later found out were flowers meant for the cemetary - I don't know what flowers mean. Flowers are flowers to me!)
I was standing on the side of the road and a convi came along. Double score! I climbed up with all my stuff. The flowers got stuffed in someone's face. I looked up under my mop of hair and saw where I had to go. All the way to the back. To fit on a bench that's really only supposed to be for 3 butts. There were already 3 people sitting there. I felt myself falling forward. Puedes agarrar los flores, I asked the lady I was falling onto. She took them from me, shoved them in the face of the guy sitting next to her, and then proceeded to fix the back of my pants which were falling down as I turned and plopped myself down. I guess I had been cracking the whole bus. Oh well. We just started laughing.
That's what I freaking love about this culture. Everyone is there for each other. Whether it's to pull up your pants, or offer you a piece of fruit on the bus, or watch your kids for you while you go to the market, or to start up a game of volleyball in the evening, or to give you a hug and a kiss. Neighbors aren't just people that live next door to you - they're you're family. People aren't superficial here. No one looks at what you're wearing. No one cares. You are a person. You are who you are and not what you buy or how you look.
As I continued my bus ride home, sweating more than I had ever sweat in my life. The lady next to me pulled out a comb and started to comb her hair. Her armpits were in my nose and hair was flying everywhere. Most of it landing in my lap and on my arm. I blew on my arm to try and get the hairs off but I was too sweaty. Gross. Black arm hair. After she was done, she started blowing all over my arms too. Still too sweaty to come off. She wiped me off with her sweat rag and the we continued on our way. The rest of the ride I watched the mom in front of me pick off some scab thing on her kid's head. When she got it off she gave it to him to play with.
I just love this place. 

eyeSpace

I think a lot of what makes up life is what occupies our eye space. What we look at tells us a lot about who we are. The places we've been, things that we see, and experiences that we live make us. After living in Peru for over 7 months, I have seen many things. Both the ugly and the beautiful. The things that occupy my eye space here are different than back at home. At home, I saw big buildings. Cars. People on cell phones. Hardly anyone outside. I saw movies. I saw homework. I saw a world of worrying and of schedules. I saw gas prices and the news. 

But here?

What do I see?

What occupies my eye space?

Well, today I saw a man sitting on top of a tall yellow tractor in downtown Pucallpa completely jamming out all by himself. On a guitar with at least 2 broken strings.

I also saw a truck that was painted my favorite color - puke green.

I saw Jenessa down over a liter of Cebada at lunchtime for 5 soles. It was hilarious. 

I saw at least one hundred little black bugs in the split peas. Then we washed them and cooked them.

I saw the laughs of my Peruvian brothers as they made fun of me for breaking the sink this morning.

I saw a family of 4 crammed on a motorcycle. Both of the kids drooped over with the sleepies. 

I saw cows eating and banana trees growing alongside of the highway. 

I saw a cart filled to the brim with fruit. The colors were so pretty. 

I saw a group of old men laughing and joking with each other over some beers on the side of the road.

I saw myself in the mirror - it had been a while. 

I saw motokars. One of my new favorita ways of transportation. 

I saw a sea of green. The Peruvian countryside is one of the prettiest things ever.

I saw homes. The houses here no longer look like shacks to me like they did before. 

I saw Pucallpa. It's about to become alive when the sun goes down. 

I saw my hippie friends on the corner setting up their handmade jewelery to sell. 

I saw glimpses of God. Because He is in all things beautiful.

And now I leave you with this. What do you see? What occupies your eye space? After you read this, why don't you step outside and see all the things that you can see. Look. With eyes and heart wide open. You will be amazed at what you find.

Convi

Today I lucked out big time. It´s Thursday, which means it´s a day in Pucallpa. Running errands, going to the post office, sending emails, waiting for pictures to upload, and visiting the girls at Km 8. After waiting for a long time on the side of the road for a motokar to Campo Verde, I arrived in town just as a convi was pulling up at the taxi station. What luck! Instead of taking a taxi and paying 4 soles to get all the way to the centro, I could take a convi and only pay 3. As I approached the convi, I saw that it was already packed to the brim. Oh well, just do it Peruvian style. Cram. I saw that there were still 2 people behind me. Yep, they´re getting in too. I ducked my head and climbed up. No seats. So I stood. Along with some fortunate others. It´s kind of fun to be a gringa on a convi or in a taxi or bus. Everyone pretends not to stare. It makes for some awesomely awkard moments. A little old lady finally got off about 15 kilometers down the road. Which meant I got to sit down. In the very back between two Peruvian men. There was a baby sitting in front of me. I made her cry because I smiled at her. I recognized one of the songs on the radio so I started singing along. That made the people stare even more. Maybe they didn´t think I could speak Spanish. When we finally arrived in Pucallpa, my neck was sore from being hunched over the whole time and my hand was asleep.

I realize now that this wasn´t a very interesting blog to read.

But I saved 1 sole. And that, my friends, is something to celebrate.

Just a small smackeral

"Lo importante is la accion, no el resultado de la accion. debes hacer lo correcto. Tal vez no este dentro de tu capacidad, tal vez no este dentro de tu tiempo que haya algun resultado. Pero eso no significa que debas dejar de hacer lo correcto. Tal vez nunca sepas cual es el resultado de tu accion. Mas si no haces nada, no habra ningun resultado." - Gandhi

The slapper

I got slapped this week by a 70 year-old woman. I think she was trying to love pat my face. But she was doing it intentionally hard. And then she grabbed a handfull of my dreads and told me that I needed to cut my hair off and that I was never going to get a husband looking the way I did. And then she just kept patting my face. Really harrrrrrrd. I purposefully put Slapper at the end of my list of people to see for eyeglass measurements because she was getting on my nerves. I had to personally escort her to a bench and tell her to stay there until I called her. She didn´t listen. She followed me back to my station, kept pulling the sheets back and telling me to see her next. I´ve never heard anyone use the word gringita so many times in one breath. She was also quite a giant of a woman to be Peruvian. She was taller than me by a long shot.
It was campaign week. I measured eyes all week and gave out glasses. Out of the glasses that have been donated to us, most of them are huge and old and totally awesome. I would totally wear them in public, but I guess the Peruvians didn´t think they were as cool. I wore them around the clinic in an effort to encourage the people. I got a lot of people laughing at me. But it was fun. Everytime I would put an 'ugly' pair of glasses on a patient they would insist that they couldn´t see. And then I would let them try on one of the newer pairs, often times not their measurement. Then they would start singing me the Hallelujah chorus about how they could see perfectly. Some people were honest though. They took their big, awesome glasses with a grateful heart because they could finally see.
Sight is one of those things I´ve taken for granted. Because unless you can´t see, you just don´t even notice it. But after having giving people glasses all week, I´ve realized that giving the gift of sight is giving someone a huge thing. Jesus healed many people of blindness. I feel like I got a small taste of doing that too. Except for instead of having Jesus' face be the first that they see, it was a dirty, dreaded gringa.

Future friend, not foe

I want to freeze moments. I want time to stop right here. Because, as I was telling Jenessa last night as she was driving us home from Yarinacocha, this is probably the happiest I´ve been in my life. And I don´t want it to end. She´s leaving in just one month. And then two weeks after her, I´m out too. But I don´t want to think about that moment. Just deal with it when it comes. 

Ever since I can remember, I´ve always looked forward to the next thing. When I was little, like really little, I wanted to go to school so bad. When I grew up a little more, I couldn´t wait until I became a woman. When I was 15, I just wanted to be 16 so I could drive. When I was in high school I just wanted to graduate and move out and be out in the real world. Whatever that meant. I even remember a couple times last year just sitting and day dreaming that I was already done with college and married. I don´t even think I had a boyfriend at the time. What I´m trying to get at is this: For the first time in my life I feel like I am where I am. I am here. And it is now. I am completely in the present. And the future is no longer looming and taunting me. It´s just there, like a friend waiting for my arrival. For the first time, I feel like I live everyday for what it is. I don´t worry about tomorrow because, frankly it´s not worth it. And that´s just how life is here. 

Now how do I transfer this feeling, this way of thinking, this way of life, to when I get back to America? I don´t know how that´s going to work yet, but I´m not worried. Yet. I´ll just tackle it when it comes.

Beauty

I recently read something about true beauty. Beauty that doesn't have to do with looks. Beauty that is deep and permanent. Beauty that, when you're around it, you know it and you are blessed.

What matters is not your outer appearance—the styling of your hair, the jewelry you wear, the cut of your clothes—but your inner disposition. Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in. (1 Peter 3:3-4 The Message)

I have seen beautiful women before. You know, the ones that without fail look perfect. But I've also been around women who are really beautiful. Deeply. You just want to be around them because they make you feel good about yourself. They are kind. Funny without trying. And just nice. They put others first and because of that, they shine. My mom is like that.

I think that's the kind of woman I want to be.