Feliz Cumpleaños, Freseney!

I wake each morning to sunrise in the Andes mountains. At 10,000 feet above sea level it is a beautiful slow march for the sun, and then suddenly the sky is the most gorgeous deep blue. It is a blue I have never seen anywhere else; special only to this land. My room is small with a modest twin size wooden bed and a hard uneven matress. But my host mother is a wonderful cook, and the view from my room makes up for any lack of comfort. Today I had to wake early as I have my Spanish leassons again at the San Blas school. Then I must return home for lunch. In Latin America lunch is the biggest meal of the day. Although I could go eat elsewhere, I like the comfort and closeness of my host family. After my lunch I will go to the orphanage, and then later this evening a group of us will get a Peruvian cooking lesson.

I have decided to take a shower every other day since it appears we only have cold water. After my quick cold shower I amble downstairs to see what Violetta has in store for my tastebuds today. Yet another wonderful breakfast, my favorite eggs and sausage (well bacon is my favorite but this was close). After breakfast and a, Hasta Luego, I am off to try and get a taxi to the school on my own accord. I take taxis everywhere. This city is a bit like the wild wild west. Buses (read vans) that should hold 12 people hold 26, I know because I was on one. Taxis drive 4 deep on two lane roads and the honking never stops. It is a language all of their own. My taxi costs 2.5 Soles which equates to roughly 1$ US. I always try to take the cabs with official numbers, older drivers, and if possible a lot of Catholic Saint portraits hanging in the window. I certainly pray evertime I get into one. Today I take a younger driver. As he begins to enquire after the common questions, where are you from?, are you staying here long?, why are you here?, how old are you?, he asks if I am married. Now it is ok for me to say that I am divorced in the company of friends and mi familia, but to him I lie. Yes, I am married, my husband is Matt and he is very tall and strong. He is with our daughter in the States (with an intonation to let him know that he will come over here to kick your butt if you get fresh mister). It is best not to be honest. He seems to lose interest and finally we are at the school.

My lessons are private and Gustavo is a great and very patient teacher. I have been studying on my day off, and Gustavo is pleased with my progress, though slow, I am diligent. Jon and I agreed yesterday to get supplies for the orphanage after class, but he does not see me at school so he slips out on his own. I decide to write in my electronic diary (known as email) while I wait for him to return, and I lose half of everything after an hour and a half of writing. Computers here are like 13 year old girls, unreliable, slow when you need them to be fast, and moody as to when they will even work. Jon returns shortly before I head home for lunch with printer paper, colored pencils, and 4 balls. We are both incredibly excited about what this will mean to the kids. I am still determined to get things for baby Jessica.

After a delicious lunch of white beans, rice, and a thin beef steak I take a brief siesta. I need the rest before the orphanage. Not only is it physically draining it is incredibly emotional as I have mentioned previously. I should also mention that my host mother makes me chicha morrado for lunch. It is a local Peruvian drink made from maize morrado which grows only in Peru. In other words, it is a purple corn not good for eating that is boiled and then ferments in water. You drink the juice, as it were, with a bit of sugar. It is quite tasty actually. There is also another chicha which is made from a different type of corn left to ferment thereby turning into corn beer.

My taxi arrives at the orphanage. It is near the Plaza San Sebastian across from the Collegio de Virgen de Fatima. Some of the older kids who we have not met yet go to Collegio and do not arrive home until later. Immediately there are Holas and hugs and smiling faces. Everyone is downstairs eating lunch at a proper table this time. Jon is already there and holding baby Jessica. At 21 this young student of Micro Biology is one of several impressive fellow volunteers. As soon as you meet him you sense his compassion and good heartedness. The kids are amazed at him because he is blonde and about 6,3 in height. He asks me to teach him about babies since he has not worked with them, and since he plans to be a pediatric doctor he wants to gain more first hand experience. I assure him I would be happy to help, and my concern with Jessica is she is at about a 6 month developmental stage. In fact my friends baby, Keir, is more interactive at 3 months then she is at one year. I take baby Jessica into my arms, and I am happy to say she has a clean diaper and has been fed. I really want to work with her to make eye contact, smile, make sounds, and try to walk. Ironically the kids break out this drink that is like a Pepsi with vitamins. It is their after lunch treat, and little Jessica comes alive.

I had sat Jessica down for a moment, and all of sudden she starts crawling to the table. Ahhh, she sees the drink and she wants some I realize. Now I do not approve of giving babies cola but this is their ritual. It also gets her excited, and I am in no position to resist. So I gently pick her up and hold her hands and we walk together to the table. We get her a cup and I have to spoon feed her the cola. She is very very pleased with herself! She does not have a bottle or sippy cup so I mentally add this to the list of things for Jessica.

The older girls start asking me if I like babies, if I want to have another, etc. They then tell me that Freseney, who is at the Collegio, is turning 13 today. They ask if we would buy her and the others something sweet so they could have a fiesta. You see nothing as far as I can tell has been planned. I tell them I will confer with Jon. After Jessica finishes her (gasp) cola I bring out the ball. She really likes it!! She hits it with her hands, and I roll it to her and she sort of rolls it to me. I tickle her and I get a smile. My day is already a thousand times better than yesterday; yet unbelievably, it continues to improve.

I go upstairs with baby Jessica to join Jon in the play room, and the kids have ripped into the paper and pencils. They are drawing and making pinwheels. The boys help the girls make their pinwheels that they then hold out of the window in order to watch them spin in the cool mountain air. I am drawing hearts on cards that the girls are making and everyone is having fun. Jon and I decide indeed we will go get a cake for Freseneys birthday, and I also determine that I will get milk, a bottle, and some baby food for Jessica.

One of the orphanage directors and Karin (13) walks us to the Super Market 15 minutes away. It is actually a very modern market in most aspects. As Jon and Karin look at cakes I get a princess castle bottle with handles so she can start practicing gripping and drinking. I get 2 litres of fresh milk (they literally pour it from a large vat into plastic bags) for $1 US. Then it is off to the baby food aisle. They only have fruit baby food in jars so I grab some of those and a huge jar of strawberry marmelade for all the other kids. Sum total of my costs for all of the above, $11. Jon scored an enormous fruit and chocolate cake for $10. We were going to have a fiesta grande!!

When we get back to the orphanage there is excitement in the air. The directors husband who just came into town helps us set up. We fix up a table with a table cloth, set benches enough for everyone around the perimeter of the room, and put out the cake. The husband fixes the stereo so there will be music, baby Jessica has been redressed in pink and now everyone is wanting to hold her, and Jon replaces the burnt out lightbulbs. The mood was contagiously exciting!!

The older kids get home from Collegio and immediately begin to ask Jon and I questions. The directors are in the kitchen making popcorn and some kind of chocolate drink, and Freseney is excited because she is going to have a great party! Unfortunately for Juan (as we call Jon) and I we have to leave for our cooking lesson. We keep pushing the time limit though, helping the girls with their English homework and playing with the kids. Finally at seven we have to leave because we are already late. We say good evening and leave feeling hopeful and even helpful after a much improved day.

Our cooking lesson was a short taxi ride from San Blas, and was held in the home of another host family. Dina a woman in her 50s was not only exceptionally beautiful and kind but an amazing cook. We made a dish that takes mashed potato which you stuff like a giant ostrich egg with sauteed chicken, onion, bell pepper, and spices. Roll it in flour and then fry it until golden. Serve with a side of steamed broccoli and a vegetable medely of beets, green beans, carrots, mixed in mayonaise. Add a little cocoa tea (not addictive but helps with altitude sickness) and Coca Cola to drink it was a delicious home cooked meal.

It was a wonderful evening sitting around the table eating and talking. The group formed from a collection of four college students from all over the US- Hannah, Andrea, Jon, and Russ, Dina our hostess, Rita (an ex-corporate worker from Morocco) and myself. We spoke Spanish and English and tried to laugh about the affront from a Peruvian man that happened to Hannah, 19, today after she left her project. See, unfortunately it is not uncommon for this to occur with women here in Cusco. Hannah confronted this man after he followed her for several blocks and as she did so he began grabbing at her arms. I told her in an appropriate woman-mother fashion to start screaming curses in his face, poke both of his eyes, and knee him in the groin. Let us just say after that everyone chimed in with their suggestions which reached the pretty hysterical culminating with unexpectedly funny suggestions from Dina our hostess (let us just say that she was making some mean faces and using a grabbing, pulling, and twisting gesture with her hands).

As we said our goodbyes and headed to catch our respective taxis home I began to think how much this is a place of extremes (at least from my perspective). Sometimes the only way to cope with them is through half a measure of common sense followed with hard work, and half a measure of humor and laughter. However upon further reflection, I find that all this seems to be the case at home though as well, now doesnt it?