365 Days

365 Days living in a rural Peruvian village. 365 days speaking Spanish and still sounding like a child. 365 days of sleeping under a mosquito net in an adobe house with a tin roof. Almost 365 days without rain or cold weather. Countless rides on moto-taxis and combis. Months of bucket baths and months of washing clothes by hand. Infinite calls to Susan. Too many probably. Lots of time spent thinking. An entire year completed as a Peace Corps volunteer.

What amazes me the most is just how quickly it has gone. The past 365 days that I have lived immersed in the oddities of another culture seem normal. These days, even hearing rats on my roof seems normal. Falling asleep at 9:00 PM is normal. Of course, certain things still baffle/amuse me--la hora peruana, tacky market clothes, a general fear of cold beverages and air movement, cat calls, etc. Certain things still bother me--machismo, political corruption, and language difficulties.

Clearly a lot has changed since my first few months in site. For one, I am actually "busy" now. Furthermore, I have made certain realizations which have made me more comfortable with my situation. Namely, I have come to accept that recieving no recognition for my work is okay and possibly preferable. Also, I have learned that attempting to integrate 100% is impossible and naive. I will always be viewed as the privileged foreigner, which is only logical, because, newsflash, I am. By that I do not intend to imply that I no longer care what they think of me. I respect the local culture, participate in it, and do not flaunt my wealth. But if I do something differently, it's okay, because they expect it and will probably make fun of me.

While I relate to the reality of my fellow community members, the fact that my reality is not their reality was made perfectly obvious during the last week which I spent in Lima. After one year of service all volunteers head to Lima for a group meeting and medical checks. We stayed in Miraflores, an affluent, seaside neighborhood where most tourists stay. I'll just say that people in Miraflores walk their dogs on leashes and all of the dogs are pure-bred. There is a grocery store there which looks like a Whole Foods and more than one Starbucks. Basically, it is worlds away from the majority of Perú. But from my perspective, the strange thing was that it's also normal there.

However, when my PC doctor made an appointment for me at one of the top hosptitals in Lima, I had a momentary glimpse of what it could be like for a campesino to enter the world of the wealthy. First of all, my doctor walked in dressed to the nines and I'm fairly certain she had an authentic Matisse print hanging on her wall. She's visited Disney World with her kids several times. I've never even been to Disney World. Anway, she took one look at me and began to insult the mosquito bites on my legs which are from last summer and really not that bad. She was astounded that they were insect bites and seemed perplexed by them as if I should have been capable of avoiding them. When told that I bucket bathe, she shook her head in dismay.

The dentist was also interesting. It was way nicer than my dentist office in the states, with flat screen T.V., a hand-held x-ray pen and instantaneous digital images of my teeth.