I've been observing throughout this trip how Peruvians don't like to explain anything. You never know what's going on here. Clearly, it's a cultural difference, and I am sure they find me pushy or anxious or something for asking why something is late/closed/how long something will take. Standard responses are
-Don't worry, every thing's fine
-Won't be a moment, every thing's fine
Mancora return journey:
-Me: Do I get the bus from here?
-Travel agent: Yes
-Me: (doubtfully) The bus actually stops right here?
-Travel agent: Yes, here.
I arrive later to get the bus there, only to be taken in a taxi to a bus station to get the bus
-Me: Why did you tell me the bus leaves from here?
-Travel agent: Because you had to come here to get the taxi, it's the same.
*It's not really the same though, it it...*
I got 'shown around' the gym on my first visit, which turned in to a sort of personal training session without any consultation whatsoever. The instructor set me going on the treadmill. I asked if he could show me how to work it, to which he said,
"It's OK, I'll do it"
- But can you show me so I know for next time?
- "It's OK, I'm always here so I can do it"
- But I don't want to do this programme
- "It's OK, this is a good one for you"
- I'd like to know how to work it myself
-"But why? I can help you."
- OK, fine.
This is all very light-hearted and amusing but there is a really hard aspect life here. I just saw two very bad, rather chilling, road accidents in two days; and the constant safety precautions you have to take to do the simplest of things makes me really appreciate the independence I'm afforded in the UK. If you listened to all the advice of the locals, you'd never go anywhere here. The main risk is getting robbed, so it's a case of never letting your guard down, especially since fair skin stands out a mile here. There is no blending in. Anywhere.
I have mixed feelings about leaving the house in Trujillo. We were all reminded of the wonderful convenience of having running water and electricity when we suffered a day without either. Dirty dishes and disgruntled people mount up very rapidly on a hot Sunday afternoon. Generally, though, it's a fun and sociable place, perhaps best represented by the weekly 'family dinner' on a Thursday night. Two people cook for everyone (usually around 20). This doesn't sound too bad until you begin to factor in the various dietary requirements (ranging from vegetarian to no dairy, no wheat etc), the limited equipment in the kitchen and the lack of availability of various ingredients that most of us are used to. There is a lot of buzz about family dinner and I couldn't believe how many people asked what we were going to make (and how, and what not to do, and what time because if you say 8pm, it will be 9pm etc) when I took on the challenge in my second week. A 6"4 Australian and I (has anyone seen 'Big Cook Little Cook' on CBeebies?) set about making vast quantities of Italian-style fayre followed by roasted bananas with chocolate and ice cream. By all accounts, our efforts were a resounding success. There aren't enough forks to go around, and people improvise with spoons, chopsticks, sporks etc but then how often to you get a round of applause for cooking a meal?
One of my greatest work challenges came on Saturday morning, when the entire SKIP team gathered at the office in El Porvenir for the monthly meeting with the parents. My main objectives (besides just being there to observe) were to get some quotes from parents and children and to get some photos of the older children in the secondary education programme. There are not enough photos of teenagers, now I understand why. Whilst the young children are quick to give you a cuddle, chat to you and *love* having their photo taken, the older ones are much too cool. They are lovely but tend to look embarrassed/unimpressed, giggle and joke with each other. Then when I get my camera out, even after long negotiations, they'll just run away. So I managed to get one, and she had her eyes closed. The parents, on the other hand, are perfectly obliging and I took a couple of lovely shots of mothers or fathers with their children (which I'd post but one of them might be an annual report cover image so it would be an unfair preview! Instead, here's a brother and sister of 8 and 5 who I had a chat with whilst helping with their puzzle).
I'd been keen to get some more information and some direct quotes from one of the mothers whose story is going in the Annual Report. I'd gone along armed with a tape recorder so I didn't have to worry about understanding every word and translating on the spot whilst taking notes. Unfortunately, I failed to get the tape recorder working, and this lady was a TALKER. It was almost painful, knowing she was giving so many fascinating insights and not being able to get it all down. On a hot day, conducting an interview in a different language, perched on the end of a flower bed, is exhausting. I made notes, which I'm converting in to elements of the article, only for it to be translated back in to Spanish. It's great experience since I'd normally take it for granted that everyone I need to communicate with for work speaks the same language.
The rest of the weekend was somewhat indulgent, including pampering (it is £6 for a French manicure and pedicure), shopping and eating out at the nicest restaurant I've seen here (still ridiculously cheap though). On Sunday a group of 3 of us headed to a nearby Moche ruin site where they are excavating a richly painted temple at the foot of a mountain. like the previous site, the scenery and vast spaces are worth the trip even without the incredible things that they are uncovering there.
From ancient civilisations to a North American basketball game at the stadium in Trujillo on Sunday night. A well-rounded Sunday, I thought.
Now, it's a race to finish up by Thursday night when I'm heading south to Cuzco for a week with yet another American travel buddy. A good way to sum up this one is by last Monday evening, when we went for a fairly relaxed walk around the central plaza and somehow ended up in a karaoke bar (Trujillo's one and only as far as I can tell) singing Eternal Flame... It should be a good week.
-Don't worry, every thing's fine
-Won't be a moment, every thing's fine
Mancora return journey:
-Me: Do I get the bus from here?
-Travel agent: Yes
-Me: (doubtfully) The bus actually stops right here?
-Travel agent: Yes, here.
I arrive later to get the bus there, only to be taken in a taxi to a bus station to get the bus
-Me: Why did you tell me the bus leaves from here?
-Travel agent: Because you had to come here to get the taxi, it's the same.
*It's not really the same though, it it...*
I got 'shown around' the gym on my first visit, which turned in to a sort of personal training session without any consultation whatsoever. The instructor set me going on the treadmill. I asked if he could show me how to work it, to which he said,
"It's OK, I'll do it"
- But can you show me so I know for next time?
- "It's OK, I'm always here so I can do it"
- But I don't want to do this programme
- "It's OK, this is a good one for you"
- I'd like to know how to work it myself
-"But why? I can help you."
- OK, fine.
This is all very light-hearted and amusing but there is a really hard aspect life here. I just saw two very bad, rather chilling, road accidents in two days; and the constant safety precautions you have to take to do the simplest of things makes me really appreciate the independence I'm afforded in the UK. If you listened to all the advice of the locals, you'd never go anywhere here. The main risk is getting robbed, so it's a case of never letting your guard down, especially since fair skin stands out a mile here. There is no blending in. Anywhere.
On the volunteer house side of life, the new Brits have been dropping like flies with various
ailments. Don't want to speak to soon but I'm extremely proud to have
not been held back once, suffering only minor complaints. They all had an intense week of training last week, which I've dipped in and out of. It began with orientation of Trujillo on Monday, then an 'ice-breaker' activity on Tuesday morning, in Spanish, to help with learning names (of something like 40 people!) and
likes, which ranged from guinea pigs (to eat!) to butterflies (probably not to eat). The
energetic start was followed by presentations from each of the SKIP
departments. This gave an overview of the range of programmes that make up SKIP’s holistic approach to helping the families in El
Porvenir to get themselves out of poverty.
Throughout the rest of the training week are various sessions for the different education and social work teams. Training is
thorough, covering most aspects of working with children including first aid
training, behaviour management, boundaries, child protection and teaching
procedures. Then today, only a week later, they all got stuck in to teaching as the children returned from holidays ready to supplement their school classes with SKIP classes. Sadly, I'm not going to have time to get involved, with only a few days to finish up my Communications work.
I have mixed feelings about leaving the house in Trujillo. We were all reminded of the wonderful convenience of having running water and electricity when we suffered a day without either. Dirty dishes and disgruntled people mount up very rapidly on a hot Sunday afternoon. Generally, though, it's a fun and sociable place, perhaps best represented by the weekly 'family dinner' on a Thursday night. Two people cook for everyone (usually around 20). This doesn't sound too bad until you begin to factor in the various dietary requirements (ranging from vegetarian to no dairy, no wheat etc), the limited equipment in the kitchen and the lack of availability of various ingredients that most of us are used to. There is a lot of buzz about family dinner and I couldn't believe how many people asked what we were going to make (and how, and what not to do, and what time because if you say 8pm, it will be 9pm etc) when I took on the challenge in my second week. A 6"4 Australian and I (has anyone seen 'Big Cook Little Cook' on CBeebies?) set about making vast quantities of Italian-style fayre followed by roasted bananas with chocolate and ice cream. By all accounts, our efforts were a resounding success. There aren't enough forks to go around, and people improvise with spoons, chopsticks, sporks etc but then how often to you get a round of applause for cooking a meal?
One of my greatest work challenges came on Saturday morning, when the entire SKIP team gathered at the office in El Porvenir for the monthly meeting with the parents. My main objectives (besides just being there to observe) were to get some quotes from parents and children and to get some photos of the older children in the secondary education programme. There are not enough photos of teenagers, now I understand why. Whilst the young children are quick to give you a cuddle, chat to you and *love* having their photo taken, the older ones are much too cool. They are lovely but tend to look embarrassed/unimpressed, giggle and joke with each other. Then when I get my camera out, even after long negotiations, they'll just run away. So I managed to get one, and she had her eyes closed. The parents, on the other hand, are perfectly obliging and I took a couple of lovely shots of mothers or fathers with their children (which I'd post but one of them might be an annual report cover image so it would be an unfair preview! Instead, here's a brother and sister of 8 and 5 who I had a chat with whilst helping with their puzzle).
I'd been keen to get some more information and some direct quotes from one of the mothers whose story is going in the Annual Report. I'd gone along armed with a tape recorder so I didn't have to worry about understanding every word and translating on the spot whilst taking notes. Unfortunately, I failed to get the tape recorder working, and this lady was a TALKER. It was almost painful, knowing she was giving so many fascinating insights and not being able to get it all down. On a hot day, conducting an interview in a different language, perched on the end of a flower bed, is exhausting. I made notes, which I'm converting in to elements of the article, only for it to be translated back in to Spanish. It's great experience since I'd normally take it for granted that everyone I need to communicate with for work speaks the same language.
The rest of the weekend was somewhat indulgent, including pampering (it is £6 for a French manicure and pedicure), shopping and eating out at the nicest restaurant I've seen here (still ridiculously cheap though). On Sunday a group of 3 of us headed to a nearby Moche ruin site where they are excavating a richly painted temple at the foot of a mountain. like the previous site, the scenery and vast spaces are worth the trip even without the incredible things that they are uncovering there.
From ancient civilisations to a North American basketball game at the stadium in Trujillo on Sunday night. A well-rounded Sunday, I thought.
Now, it's a race to finish up by Thursday night when I'm heading south to Cuzco for a week with yet another American travel buddy. A good way to sum up this one is by last Monday evening, when we went for a fairly relaxed walk around the central plaza and somehow ended up in a karaoke bar (Trujillo's one and only as far as I can tell) singing Eternal Flame... It should be a good week.
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