No Creative Title... But I'm Going to Ghana, So it Doesn't Matter!

Happy Birthday Orissa! My baby is 19 today. I hope your day is magnificent and filled with love, chica. <3

This is it. My last post before I leave for Ghana...

 I have realized in the past year, thanks to someone I met on a bus in Bolivia, that I am a person who truly lives in the moment. What this sometimes means for me is that I miss some of the excitement of what's to come, simply because I am not thinking of the future. I'll be en route somewhere and almost forget why, for example, I am spending 16 hours on a rickety bus to Santa Cruz! My anticipation is more of a faint buzz than thoughts of all the specific possibilities awaiting me. It's like... I'm happy just to know that adventures will happen and don't bother myself too much with exactly what they will be. I wouldn't have it any other way, but meeting that person, at that time, let me experience the joy of really thinking about things to come. The two of us spent many minutes, could have been hours, who knows, exclaiming over what we thought the jungle might be like... and I liked having someone to show me that new perspective.

In this case I am back to my natural state of flow... going with it, that is. I am here, now and that is where my focus is, for the most part. A chunk of the past may wander by at times, but the future tends to stay in its place. And that's okay with me. But here, if I want that extra excitement, I can always find one of the great women of my group to dream with!

So, right now I am at the hostel in Montreal, about to go out and wander around the city. The last couple of days have all run together in my mind; Monday and Tuesday's endless errands, packing and laundry, saying goodbye to my host family, my coworkers from the Red Cross coming to visit at camp, a LONG day of debriefing at Sunshine Camp yesterday, singing and meditating around the campfire, a very SHORT night of sleep last night, the flight, the bad, sleep-deprivation-induced jokes, the mountains of luggage... What exactly is in all those bags is beyond me! Seriously, people, our group has enough luggage to sink a small yacht. Hopefully not enough to take down a 767 though, otherwise I will be going for the second atlantic swim of my life!

I'm sorry for the lack of news on plans once we arrive in Ghana. But like I said... "in the moment" kind of person! I know that we are going to the beach on our first real day in the country... that's about it. Once I get settled and the future becomes the present I will have more to share! So, here goes... off to AFRICA!

We leave for Ghana (via London) tomorrow night at seven.

Con mucho amor,
Julia

On Nerds, Nations and Education

Holy mackerel, I may just be the worst blogger ever! I get myself into these funks where I feel like I have to report on every single thing and then that's just too daunting, so I don't write anything at all, so more stories pile up and the cycle continues. That is until the masses (fine, just my mom and my baby sister... and that one anonymous person on facebook, who I have a feeling was also my mom) start demanding more brilliant blog literature. And here I am feeling inspired from reading my friends Jillian and Kayla's blogs about CWY in Moncton... so, the time is nigh to write!

Man, I'm a nerd.Who talks like that?
Canada World Youth is an educational program and one thing I have learned is just how nerdy I am... another is how much I like it! Practically every other thing that comes out of my mouth prompts my wonderful friend Tayte to chime in, "All I hear is; Nerd nerd nerd. Nerd. Nerd. Nerd", accompanied by the talking hand gesture. Beth laughs daily at my fascination with biology and, while I fully admit that it is nerdy to memorize the bar code number of your library card, Amanda insists that simply having a library card is nerdy enough. (Which is why I have created a poll to prove her wrong. See the right side of this page.) I quoted "Arthur" to defend myself in this case (That is what is called "digging a hole"). Honestly, our first aid instructor nicknamed me "Keener" within 5 minutes of my walking into the room. I don't even think he knows my real name. That is how much of a nerd I am. But why am I trying to convince you? If you're reading this you probably already know.

 Yesterday I heard a lecture by Cultural Anthropologist and Explorer (who knew "Explorer" was still a job title in this day and age?! ), Dr. Wade Davis. I was fascinated as he discussed disappearing cultures, how each culture has something to contribute to the "Council of Nations" and told stories of the people he has lived with. As he spoke of the Guarani people of the Bolivian Amazon, I was bouncing in my seat with excitement, having lived in the exact region of Bolivia where the Guarani traditionally do and knowing three words in their language: Ambue Ari, "New Day" and yassi, "moon". This in itself, of course, is nothing special but the amazing thing is how just a tiny connection to a place can make issues surrounding it touch you so much deeper.  The case was the same when Davis spoke of the Q'eros of Peru and their pilgrimage to Ausangate, where I went camping. (To read about that excursion click here: http://hooliabailey.blogspot.com/2011/02/princess-jasmine-goes-camping-at.html or for Bolivia click here: http://hooliabailey.blogspot.com/2011/04/every-day-at-ambue-ari.html) My imagination was absolutely captured by Davis' stories of the ancient wisdom of polynesian marine navigators, the sense of balance of the australian aboriginal people, the ingenuity of an inuit man determined not to move to a settlement... And in this I sensed that the world is grand and enormous and beyond understanding, even in a time when we exclaim over how small it has gotten. Physically? Yeah, maybe that american woman I met in Costa Rica in 2010 happens to know the young Brit I met in Bolivia in 2011... they met in Argentina, no big deal; but as far as the depth of experience, the breadth of realities? There is more than one person could ever know, let alone experience or understand, even a person as insightful and well-traveled as Dr.Davis. I know I won't make my amazement clear, but can you imagine that every other person on the planet is doing, feeling, seeing something different right now? Even if two people are in the exact same place witnessing the same event at the same time... they are seeing, feeling, living something completely different, based on their culture, their upbringing, their personality... based on every experience they've ever had. Not once in a story you read in National Geographic; right now.

So let's talk about something that I've done, felt, seen recently.
Tuesday night the group of us were lucky enough to do a "Discover Scuba" course at the local pool. Once we got through the obligatory cheesy-but-amusing aussie-narrated instructional video it was time to get in the pool. Our instructor (First Aid Dave), well, one of 7, was surprised at how ready and organized we were. Basically, we followed him around like a litter of puppies until it was time to get into the water. I caught on to breathing from the regulator right away and was pretty much giddy with joy the whole time I was in the pool. I somersaulted and twirled and played underwater Frisbee with the others. I stared up at Hala and Justine, beautiful swimming on the surface of the water above me. Dave even taught me to blow bubble rings... Not sure if he meant for me to try it, but I did, and was surprised and thrilled when I was actually able to do it. The bubbles were so beautiful as they rushed upwards, pulsing like sparkling jellyfish. I didn't ever want to get out,practically believing that I belonged in the water. While I wouldn't go so far as to say that breathing underwater felt natural or comfortable, that doesn't mean it didn't feel good! Sometimes it is best to be uncomfortable.

One of our facilitators at Orientation camp said, "You are uncomfortable when you are learning." If this is case, which I wholeheartedly believe it is, I will be a frickin' genius by the time March rolls around. Working with people from completely different realities than my own for weeks now, discomfort is pretty much my default setting. In only ten days' time I will be plunged into a situation where my reality isn't "the one that makes sense" any more. It is just a fact of my personality that I will have to work extra hard to remind myself of this truth. I can hope for the support I need, but in the end it is up to me to make this work. That's another thing I will need to fight to believe; that if it is up to me to make this work for myself it is equally up to the others in my group to make it work for them... In other words their success is their own responsibility, not mine. I would be even crazier than I am already if I didn't have Tayte here to remind me this when I need it!

Thank you to everyone at home who knows and understands me. You are worth so much to me... just thinking of how you would react to my struggles makes me better, even if I don't tell them to you.

Maybe I will tell some more stories about Newfoundland tomorrow... but this is what's in me tonight.

Don't forget to laugh at yourself.
Sending love on these howling St.John's winds,
Julia

Links in the Chain

If you haven't heard about it, here is the link to my groups "Logbook" blog page.
http://logbook.cwy-jcm.com/ghana-st-johns/ 
There you can see updates on most of the activities we do, plus a full calendar of upcoming events and biographies on each volunteer, posted weekly. I update it a lot more frequently than this blog, but it is much less detailed... maybe that's more your style than my usual ramblings anyways.
Here are two interesting blog entries from my Moncton group friends,
Jillian:
http://jillianackert.blogspot.com/2011/11/reflect-and-move-forward.html 
and Kayla:
http://worldcanadakayla.blogspot.com/2011/11/stories-from-karing-kitchen.html

Enjoy,
 J

I am thankful for ___________.

I am thankful for Thanksgiving weekend! Which is convenient, since it is a time to be thankful for stuff...
We agreed to take the weekend off from our regular schedule in order to spend some more time getting to know our host families and counterparts. For me, this was a big success.

Saturday we had what my host family decided to call a "Chief" day, after their cat, who spends the large majority of his time lazing about, usually sprawled on the kitchen floor, an easy distance from his food bowl and in reach of any fingers that might give him a nice scratch. I am thankful for "Chief" days!
(Though no one scratched behind my ears...)

That evening we were introduced to Jennifer and her three little boys, Max, Charlie and Rudy, who came over for a supper of peanut soup and Thai rice. The boys, including Angus, nearly killed themselves laughing over a montage of funny cat videos on YouTube. We laughed too, but at the kids, not the cats! Little Rudy was just hilarious, he appeared to be having the time of his life... Watching and hearing children laugh must be one of the most enjoyable things in the world.
I am thankful for kids!

Sunday we had pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast. Ethel seemed to enjoy her pancake but thought the syrup was too sweet... I am still nursing hope that she will come to love it! At 10 Ethel and I trotted up to our usual haunt (the Sobey's Community Room) for a meeting for volunteers of the St.John's International Women's film festival, where we got our schedules for the film fest as well as free volunteer t-shirts and Tim Horton's!
I am thankful for maple syrup, downtown living, free T-shirts and Timmy's!

Back at the house we packed our overnight gear into the car and crammed in for the hour and twenty minute drive to Alison and Geoff's cabin in Whiteway. Here is a map showing where it is in relation to St.John's (Whiteway is on the left side of the map) :


View Cabin in a larger map

"The Cabin" is excactly what a cabin should be but so often is not; a tiny, somewhat run-down house in a quiet place. No running water (but they have a rain water system, which is awesome!), no electric lights, no TV, no computer. A perfect little patio with hand-laid paving stones picked up from the beach (Geoff finished laying the stones this weekend). Driftwood decor. Campfire and barbeque. Bunk beds, hide-a-bed. Mossy woods behind, rocky beach in front...  complete with friendly newfie neighbours!


We got to the cabin in the afternoon; unpacking the food, water and supplies, sweeping, starting the wood stove and making up beds. Soon enough we heard jingling bells and Geoff called us outside to meet the neigbours, Cliff George (epic name!) and Renee, who were out for a ride with Renee's beautiful Friesian mare, Zirena. Ethel tried to stroke the horse's nose but jumped back and laughed nervously when she tossed head at her. This picture was a feat to capture as the mare kept moving towards Ethel, making her squeal and jump back each time!

We took a short ride down the road, the bells on Zirena's harness jingling as we plodded along.

The neighbours said farewell and all but Geoff strolled down to Drover's Store (selling a bit of everything from fireworks to fabric and cereal to Christmas decorations!) to look for some lamp oil, then wandered back along the beach. We combed through the kelp and fish bones, driftwood and stones for interesting objects. As soon as I consented to let Angus use my camera he was snapping away at about a hundred shots a minute, having a grand ol' time and setting me up for a good, hearty photo-sorting sesh later.

Back in the cabin I taught Ethel and Angus to play the card game Cheat. A little later we gathered out on the patio for a delicious meal of lamb and veggie kebabs,  rice, nugget potatoes (with butter and onions) and broccoli, all cooked on the barbeque (minus the rice). We had peanut butter cake with chocolate icing and tea after supper. We also taught Ethel how to roast marshmallows on the campfire... home-whittled roasting sticks and all! Angus had started to get clamour for fireworks to be set off, though it wasn't quite dark enough yet, so I got out my glow poi and put on a little demonstration before handing them over to Angus and Ethel to try. The poi proved to be distraction enough until we headed down to the beach to set off the fireworks. My favourite was the green burst which released golden tails little creatures which dashed around madly for the joy of having escaped the firework before disappearing into the night. Poi playtime on the beach, then back to the cabin, where the warm wood stove welcomed us. I taught everyone Dutch Blitz by the light of an oil lamp and several flashlights. Alison professed herself addicted (and also kicked all our butts!) and assured me that we would be playing frequently from now on.  By the time we were done it was definitely time to hit the hide-a-bed hay!


I am thankful for the beauty of light in all it's different forms;  a headlamp to brush teeth by, a lamp to play cards by, fireworks, campfire sparks, poi. I am thankful for good food to eat, traditions to teach and oceans to admire. I am thankful for enthusiastic Dutch Blitz players and my Nikon D40!

This morning's breakfast was bacon, toasted cheese bread and scrambled eggs with peppers. What's that I said about good food to eat? We spent the morning playing games of Crazy 8's, Go Fish and Oware (a game which Ethel taught us that I knew as Mancala http://www.macpri.com/macpri/oware/ ) and drawing pictures with crayons.

My magic garden scene

Geoff and Angus' robot

Later Geoff continued his patio project while Angus and Alison took Ethel and I for a walk down the road. We stopped at a wharf to check out the shore down the hill from us and found two near-perfect sea urchin shells...

  On our way back to the cabin Alison introduced herself to some neighbours called Doug and Irma Miller and we were invited into the garage to see Doug's prize possession, a tiny, red, 1950's car made by Vespa. Cutest car I have ever seen!

Ethel, Angus and I in Doug's tiny car.

Sometime after turkey BLT's for lunch. more drawing and games and checking out the forest behind the house it was time to clean everything up and pack ourselves back into the car to return to St. John's. But we had to make a quick stop before truly being on our way...

"Greetings from Dildo, Newfoundland!"

I am thankful for hilarious and too-good-to-pass-up, though slightly inappropriate, photo-ops!
I don't have anything to say that can compete with that photo, so I will leave it at that for tonight.
Sweet dreams, all!
Julia

Paper or plastic?

Sometimes Ghanaians and Canadians don't understand each other. Sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes it's just plain hilarious.

Ethel planned to cook supper for our host family one night. When we mentioned it to Alison she suggested that we walk to Sobey's to get any ingredients we needed that evening, since we were expecting a hurricane the next day and would likely have to walk through some pretty nasty rain and wind to get our chicken and veggies if we waited until the next day. So Ethel and I walked to Sobey's, picking up LJ, who was waiting outside for her host and counterpart to get home, on the way. I realized too late that I had forgotten to bring a cloth grocery bag, but all we had to get was some chicken, tomatoes and a green pepper... easy enough to carry home. The cashier had loaded our goods into a plastic bag before the little enviro-switch in my brain flicked on, so I started to take the food back out. The way Ethel reacted to my attempt to pass her a styrofoam flat of chicken, you would have thought I was handing her a lit stick of dynamite. "Oooh!" she squealed as she stepped back and waved her hands. I was flummoxed (honestly that is just the most accurate word I could think of to describe it)... she had picked the chicken out of the cooler earlier, so it wasn't that she was afraid to touch it. So what was the problem?   I asked. "It's so transparent! It's so transparent!" What? What does that mean?? Well, let me tell you. Apparently, in Ghana, you look like a total psycho if you carry your groceries down the street  without a bag or "a nice wrapper".  The best reason why this is that I could get out of Ethel and LJ was, "It just seems strange."
"But why??" I asked in vain. I just had to laugh and laugh, more at Ethel and LJ's horror than the actual faux pas. After assurances that we would not be judged for it and that I would carry the groceries to save them the disgrace of carrying some produce and poultry down the street, we managed to leave without a plastic bag!

Note to self: bring a reusable shopping bag along in Ghana, or be labelled a freak by local townspeople.

flum·mox

   /ˈflʌməks/ Show Spelled[fluhm-uhks]

verb (used with object) Informal .

to bewilder; confound; confuse, startle.

COW

- realizing that most of the houses really do look like this; AWESOME! -

Our first week in St.John's has come and gone in a whirl of colourful clapboard siding and rollercoaster emotions.

My counterpart I live downtown in a purple, three-story house with Alison and Geoff, their six-year-old son, Angus and their massive cat, Big Fella Chief King. Alison is an occupational therapist and Geoff is a film and theatre technician who works on the TV show Republic of Doyle. Our host family has been the highlight of St.John's for me so far; not only are they welcoming and fun, we seem to have avoided that "I'm-living-in-your-house-and-eating-your-food-and-we-don't-even-know-each-other" awkwardness that I was afraid of. The house itself is just as cool as it's inhabitants; it is colourful and quirky, with unexpected artwork, friendly clutter, crooked staircases and giant collections of CDs, magazines, books and records. We mostly hang out in the kitchen... listening to CBC radio, playing music like Mother Mother's Eureka, cooking together, drawing, eating and talking. Tonight Angus had us all play "Telephone". We make a cute little unit if I do say so myself!


I have done two little excursions out of town with Alison, Geoff and Angus. Ethel has somehow missed out on both since she has been out with other people at the opportune moments for us to do these things. Today Beth (a fellow CWY volunteer who lives nearby) and I went with them to Alison's familys farm just outside the city. It was such a gorgeous spot! Slightly overgrown fields of vegetables, herbs and flowers, greenhouses with fruit trees, tomatoes and roses, rows of nursery planters and a lovely pond scattered throughout a wooded area and explored by golf cart on grassy paths. Angus had a great time steering the cart and always insisted that "Dad goes faster than that!" as Alison operated the pedals. Alison showed us some berries that looked (and tasted somewhat) like white Tic-Tacs growing close to the ground in a mossy patch of woods. A short hike away we picked wild blueberries, scarce from previous picking, but all the more satisfying to eat because of it. Back at the house we snacked on something rare... a Newfoundland-grown peach from Alison's brothers greenhouse!


Last Sunday we were sitting out on the sidewalk having lunch and enjoying the sun when Alison proclaimed it a perfect day for "beach swimming". I was not totally convinced about swimming in the Atlantic Ocean on a day when I was wearing jeans with leggings underneath and an alpaca-wool sweater, but was eager to go along and see a bit more of the coast. I brought my bathing suit in case of a suddden lapse in sanity later. It ended up coming in handy. Not because I was feeling particularly insane, but because submersing myself in toe-numbing water turned out to be the logical thing to do. I realized that it would only get colder from here on in, so I took the chance I had to check this thing called "swimming in the Atlantic" of my "list". The list that is neither planned nor recorded. You know that list? Stuff you didn't even know you wanted to do until you had a chance to do it... The water was not as bad as I expected, but I expected it to be hella bad, so that's not saying much. Still, it was a happy moment; A small kind of accomplishment. Once out of the water, I combed through some of the pretty, wave-smoothed, colourful stones, picking out a small green stripey one to keep. Then I put my llama sweater back on.


The time spent with the rest of our group this week was in different sessions for our Community Orientation (the CO in COW). We would meet in the community room of Sobey's to prepare our group contracts on Respect, Health and Safety and Participation, discuss our highlights and low points of the program so far, form committees for different responsibility areas... and so on and so forth.  This is where the whirlwind emotions I mentioned really came into play. Group dynamics, especially in an all-female group, can get screwy pretty quickly. It's... interesting. And by "interesting"  I mean "hugely frustrating". The best way I have been able to sum up what irks me about this group is a lack of maturity and independence... to be frank... actually, no, I'd better not be frank. I had better be diplomatic. We have communication issues. Some are cultural, some are personal, some have to do with the fact that we are just plain sick of each other after almost two weeks of living and classes and discussions together. In one session (on communication, with an awesome facilitator named Chip) we learned about the Tuckman model of group development.

1.Forming
2.Storming
3.Norming
4.Performing.

We are Storming like that hurricane that passed through on Friday.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news: It has been a jam-packed week!

Sunday: Doctors Without Borders "Refugee Camp in the Heart of the City" tour.
Monday: group meeting and get to know St.John's scavenger hunt.
Tuesday: workshops, discussions and work placement presentations.
Wednesday: work placement interviews and Signal Hill hike.
Thursday: de-briefing Signal Hill, focus team meetings, more planning and work placement reveals
Friday: morning errands, Welcome Party postponed due to hurricane
Saturday: first aid course

Today is our first full day off yet and it has done me a world of good. Tomorrow is another free day before the craziness resumes.
Tuesday morning at 8:30 I start my volunteer work at... *drumroll* the Red Cross!
I am excited to start, though I am not sure exactly what I will be doing there yet. Please pray for the Red Cross and that my work counterpart, Gloria, and I will be useful to them and will work well together!

I honestly have been quite overwhelmed this week and didn't even know where to begin to write a post in some way that wouldn't be absolute gibberish to those not around to experience this firsthand. It is much more challenging than I expected. Having my confidence shaken like this is actually rather thrilling; I am now looking forward to the next few months with much excitement and very little idea of what to expect.

With love,
Julia

Ete sen!?

-a peaceful evening at Tatamagouche Centre-

-me and my counterpart, Ethel!-

Ete sen?! What's up?
So, much has happened since I last wrote... I don't know where to begin. Let's start with one of the bigger and newer pieces of news then; counterpart selection!

I realize this might not mean much to you at home; but to us volunteers it is probably the biggest news we will receive in the whole course of the program. This is the person we will live with for 6 months. We will be each others teacher, co-worker, partner, cheerleader and hopefully, friend. Hopefully like sisters, even! My counterparts name is Ethel and I will tell you more about her as I get to know her better. :)

 I was so nervous to find out who my counterpart would be, for no particular reason but talking to Ethel has really calmed my nerves and I think we have similar hopes for the program and will get along just fine, if not really well! To find out who our counterparts were, our project supervisors had us put on masks and find the person wearing the matching one... let's just say there was a lot of squealing in the dining hall in those first moments.

The squealing. Is just one of the reasons I am starting to worry more about this being an all-female exchange group. Being here at Orientation Camp with the Moncton-Otuam exchange group, which does include men, has reminded me that I actually do hang out with guys quite frequently... because I get along well with them! I will miss the different strengths that guys bring to working in a group situation like this... and I will miss their generally more calm behaviour at times. I just have to remember that St.John's is not completely populated by women! I will have my work placement and my host family too...

Volunteer Orientation Camp, by the way, is taking place in Tatamagouche, Nova Scotia. The landscape doesn't do much to inspire me... just trees and insignificant hills; but I do love the smell of salt water wafting from Tatamagouche Bay. Not much of an ocean either; just tide washing gently over and off a shallow sandy inlet. I've heard that St.John's is very different and much more rugged.

We leave the Tatamagouche Centre Friday at 2:30 to fly to St. John's and meet our host families.

With love,
Julia

p.s. Computer time is about as common as a sunny day in Vancouver here, so more about Ghanaian culture to come when I get a chance!

Is it Raining Outside?

Oh My Goodness. This must be the most speedily I have ever updated the blog.

This morning I was none too excited to begin this adventure, but I guess it's hard to be optimistic after a practically all-nighter of packing and worrying. I am not much of a good-bye crier, but this morning I made an exception... The security officer at the Kelowna airport made a joke of asking if it was raining outside. With cherry season and the short notice of this trip I just didn't have time to mentally prepare for a six month absence. And at first it felt like I was being ripped away, rather than bounding off into the horizon.

The plane ride was pretty long, stopping in Edmonton and Ottawa before arriving in Halifax at 3:45 BC time/7:45 local. After each stop the flight attendants would say stuff like, "Oh, you still on here?". Yes, it was a long day of zooming through the clouds: catching up on some much-needed sleep, listening to music and letting my thoughts wander around, with only Bits and Bites and bottled water for sustenance. In an emergency exit seat with lots of legroom and no one beside me, thanks to Rhonda. :)

My outlook has changed almost completely since this morning. I feel ready to face everything new and interact with the group, something I dreaded this earlier today. Lesson learned, sleep=important.

Thanks to everyone who came over to my house last night, it was a perfect good-bye for me and I am really glad I got to see you all!

So. I got to Halifax no problem, I am not ridiculously over-packed (as I expected), I saw the Parliament buildings from the plane, I am in a province I have never visited before, I saw Shaun Majumder at the Halifax airport, I have had a swim in the hotel pool with some of the other girls, and I even get to update the blog! Life is good! And the time change is to my advantage... waking up at 9:00 tomorrow will be a breeze. :)

ALSO, let me just tell you a cool story. As I was packing my backpack for this trip I went to rip off the baggage tag from my return flight from Peru... only to notice that on it was an announcement for new non-stop fligths to Accra, Ghana! The Prophetic Luggage Tag escaped the trash can in favour of my future CWY scrapbook!

Yes, life is good and I suppose that's all I have to say to you for now. I hope you find ways to realize how good life is when you are in a terrible mood too, because it rocks!

Con amor,
Julia on the other side of Canada!

Thankful and Stoked to the Max; The Latest News.

  Hi everyone! :)

  I leave for Canada World Youth in less than one week! I thought I would update you on how my preparation is going since I am ridiculously busy (praying that cherry season will end in two days rather than three!) and sadly won't be able to spend nearly enough time with any of you before I go.

  I reached my fundraising goal of $2800 only 15 days after learning I had been accepted to the program. I currently have $2980 in hand for Canada World Youth.
 
How amazing is that!? I must have THE most generous family, friends and adopted family of any CWY participant ever, and I am so blessed by and grateful to you all! There is a list of donors on the right side of this web page; thank you! I would also like to thank everyone who contributed to my change jars, bought energy drinks in the orchard, donated recyclables, bought cherries and just generally helped me out; your contribution has not gone unnoticed! If you thought about making a donation and would stll like to, it's not too late. You can find the link in my last post or contact me. I'm sure future CWY Youth Volunteers will appreciate your support.

  Having my fundraising goal met has been a big relief because I have more time to devote to other aspects of preparation. Packing, buying supplies (like anti-malarials), university applications for next year, wrapping up various loose ends... It seems that every time I check something off my list three new things take its place!

The other day I talked to my canadian project supervisor, Allyson, on the phone and I've had e-mail contact with her and several of the girls from my group now. It is nice to talk to people who you will be spending 6 months with a bit in advance! Allyson is actually from St.John's, which is apparently unusual, so she is going to have some great work projects and community contacts lined up for us! But, before St.John's, I've learned, we will actually be spending about a week in Halifax for Volunteer Orientation Camp! Yet another chance to see more of Canada, yay!

Lastly, I found a tool for the blog where you can follow by e-mail. So... follow the blog by e-mail! It is on the right-hand side of the page, above the list of donors.

Hope you are having a fantastic day,
with much love and appreciation,
Julia

A New, Big, Wonderful Adventure

I am going to.... GHANA! For three months. And Newfoundland for three months. With Canada World Youth.
Hello! I am just a little bit thrilled...

Heads up, I'm going to ask you for money at the end of this post... I really need your help to make this happen!

The exchange starts in St.John's, Newfoundland, where I will meet the 9 Ghanaians participating as well as 8 other Canadians and our 2 project supervisors. One of the ghanaian girls will become my "counterpart" for the whole 6 months; we will live in the same host family both in Canada and in Ghana and be responsible for certain group activities together.

I leave for St. John's on September 4th. In other words: I will be leaving for 6 months in 22 days.

What CWY has to say about CWY:
-Canada World Youth is a non-profit, non-governmental organization that has been offering international educational programs to youth between the ages of 17 and 24 for 40 years.
-Canada World Youth's mission is to increase the ability of people, and especially young people, to participate actively in the development of just, harmonious and sustainable societies.


What I have to say about CWY: There are just so many fantastic things about this exchange.
- I am going to AFRICA before my 20th birthday!
-The theme of the exchange is Health, so our volunteer projects will be health-related. The project in Ghana will be working on preventing and controlling malaria in young children and women of child-bearing age.
-Girl power! It is an all-female exchange.
-Learning to speak "local dialect" of where I will live in Ghana.
-St.John's is gonna be brilliant... fiddle music, Newfies (I have to learn two new languages!), ocean, visiting a whole new part of Canada.
-I will get an attestation certificate with some university credit value by the end of the program.
-Having a ghanaian counterpart.
-It is practically free. But.....


One of my commitments to CWY is to fundraise $2800. It is going really well, considering I only started on Tuesday... but I will need lots more donations to keep this commitment! By supporting CWY, you will be making it possible for young people like me to take part in the CWY experience.
If you want to make a donation to Canada World Youth and my exchange, you can do so by credit card via this link:

http://www.canadaworldyouth.org/en/Content.aspx?PageId=201&Volunteer=b9f70e8b37277      

or by cheque or cash through me. :)
Thank you in advance!
I will do my best to keep the blog lively throughout my exchange! I wonder whether the internet connection in Saltpond, Ghana is any good...

Mango Juice Versus Maple Bacon Sundaes

I realised that I was excited about coming home about two weeks before my trip ended, which was a silly thing to do, because I spent the rest of my time in Exotic South America counting down the days until my return to Beloved Canada.

And suddenly... I was home. And suddenly, I didn't know what to write.  I figured I should write a closing post to let you readers (Muchas gracias for all your enthusiasm over the past few months!) know how everything wrapped up... Was it "happy ever after"? Of course I don't mean that this is the end of the story, but I think you know what I'm getting at...  I thought of it as the, "Hooray!! I'm home!.... Now what?" edition of the blog. But that's about as far as I got. I just couldn't pin it down with words.
There were only three things I knew for sure:
1. I missed Ambue Ari.
2. I missed fresh (as in, hack-a-chunk-off-a-mango-and-put-in-a-blender-fresh) mango juice.
3. My old friends are wonderful.

It's so nice to come home and find that someone actually noticed you were gone! I was not expecting the huge outpouring of love and welcome I got from everyone! Thank you all so much.

At first, being home felt totally normal. I think, after moving every couple days for a few weeks that even my own house felt like just another stop I would be leaving soon. The weirdness started to set in as realised I wasn't going anywhere! After only a few days, I felt like none of it (the last three and a half months of my life) had actually happened. And I was kind of panicked at the thought that everything I experienced would just fade away. That's one of the dangers of traveling alone, more than mugging or loneliness or eating solo; not having anyone who experienced everything as tangibly as you did. Though they experienced things differently they are proof that you were there(!), you did that(?!); that you lived it, not dreamed it.

Shenaniganizing resumed almost as soon as I had changed out of my three-point-five months wardrobe and into something I hadn't worn in over two days. That night-time sandcastle stomping and the Maple-Bacon sundae that Dylan ordered ("Only in Canada!") convinced me that Home was the only place in the world right now that I could be as happy to be as Ambue Ari. Alright, fine, maybe it was a combination of the sand, the maple-bacon and the people I was with.

"We all struggle with forward motion...  "Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds."
That song by Relient K pretty much sums up my transition back to my "normal" life. But life is moving forward once again and I'm looking forward to the next time I'll get to write from some far off place. For now, Oyama is far enough.

Every day at Ambue Ari

This entry, in all it´s rushed imperfection, is dedicated to the memory of my Grandma Jeanne, who died this morning; a fighter and a gentle spirit to the end. Je t´aime Grand-mère.

I´ve just arrived in Santa Cruz after a month at Ambue Ari wildlife sanctuary. I´m not made for the city; already I miss the sounds of macaws and howler monkeys through the walls of my room rather than cars and their blaring horns. The mattress here is hard and lumpy too, but not because it´s made of straw. I feel like a fish out of water... kind of like that catfish I saw swimming across the patio when it rained yesterday at Ambue Ari, just barely able to breathe. But you can get used to almost anything...
It´s amazing how quickly the exceptional becomes normal.

Every day at Ambue Ari I would go out and spend 6 hours of quality time with a puma named Wayra. Feeding her, walking with her, swimming with her, giving her neck rubs, napping near her, having her lick my hands affectionately, playing with her, swimming with her and even feeling her her teeth and claws on my skin once.  At home I would be in awe just to see a puma up close... heck, I have pulled ticks out of Wayra´s neck and ears! I hate ticks! I don´t even pull them out of my self! (I had two.) Back at camp for lunch I would ask my friends how their jaguars and ocelots were doing. "Yuma almost caught a tejon(coati) on our walk today!" "Meh, Amira´s in heat, so she was really lazy. It was pretty boring." "Sayan hasn´t had a shit in 6 days! Zandro doubled his laxatives..."

Right now it feels like that is real life and this is the abnormal. But it is more real, in a way...

Every day at Ambue Ari I woke up and worked for a purpose. No wondering what the point of doing what you´re doing is. No superficiality, floating through towns and activities like a spectre, trying to take all the new-ness in. Your mind doesn´t block the jungle out in that way that I´ve struggled with during seeing things like Machu Picchu; it gets into you and you only realize after the fact how far in. At least for me.

I got a piercing from my cat partner, Angela, in my left ear this morning before I left the park. We did it in the vet clinic... the same place they keep Sayan´s laxatives and cut Bora Bora worms out of volunteers arms. (Life is funny, I think.) It will remind me of the Parque for as long as I have it and, though I didn´t realize it at seven o´clock this morning, as the needle slid through my cartilege, it will also remind me of my sweet Grandma Jeanne-Marie. The jewellry is a ring. A never-ending circle reminding me that everything is connected. That as some things end: my time at the park, Grandma Jeanne´s life, others are beginning.
A New Day.
Ambue Ari.

In the Bolivian Amazon.

So, amazingly, I have internet today (though it won´t happen often) and thought I would tell you that I am in love. With Parque Ambue Ari.

So far I have:
-cuddled with monkeys and baby pigs
-eaten dinner in a rustic candlelit shack
- maintained a perfect record of domination in rock-paper-scissors for dish duty
-slept on a mattress made of straw
-built quarantine cages and dug a hole
-drunk tap water for the first time in eight weeks
-chopped fruit and veggie peels for tapirs and pios
-been eaten alive by mosquitoes
-met a guy I met in the airport when I arrived in Lima
-performed glow poi at a volunteer costume party
-taken three cold showers
-gazed at the brightest stars through the forest canopy
-had a chunk of my hair ripped out by a macaw named Lorenzo
-taught poi to a group of Bolivian kids
-slogged through thigh-deep water on a jungle trail while snacking on cocoa pod fruit fresh off the tree
-seen pumas, ocelots and jaguars close enough to touch
-been so overwhelemed by my surroundings and emotions so that I could barely think

I have been here barely 48 hours.
Con amor,
Jungle Jules

Now THIS is a peruvian bus ride...

Our 7 hour bus ride started in Cusco at 8:00 Thursday morning and arrived in Puno at 6:00 in the evening. Driving through the sierra, the countryside between the two cities, reminded me of driving in Alberta; except when I saw those flamingoes bathing ponds in the fields. A apron-clad lady on the bus sold papas rellenas. Papa rellena is mashed potato filled with chicken, vegetables and egg and then baked. Best served on a long and bumpy bus ride to Puno hot out of a basket with fresh salsa. The delay started in Juliaca. At this point we were still on the main highway. The bus stopped, as it had a few times before, only this time we sat in the baking sun for an hour. When I looked out the window I saw a line of buses and cars about a kilometre long stopped ahead of us. Local vendors, always ready to make a sale, were taking advantage of the traffic jam by hawking all kinds of food to the people on the buses... the most tempting being the ice cream. No sooner had I agreed to go buy a banana for my friend Jen than I was informed we were moving. Moving meant turning onto a rutted side street and into the town/hideous wasteland of Juliaca which we proceeded to drive around for two hours. At one point we stopped at the bus terminal and some of us got off to buy water. When we went back to the bus not five minutes later it was gone. No longer parked at the terminal where we had left it. Crap. We had to run through the terminal to the road on the other side and wave it down, which we would NOT have known to do unless a man who had seen our bus leave showed us the way! I was very thankful not to have to spend more time in Juliaca than was absolutely necessary. Back on the bus, we eventually made it to the main highway, which was covered in stones and broken glass, some kind of protest blockade. Soon we turned off the highway again and into a potato field. At first I thought we were driving directly through the crops, but there was, in fact, a narrow dirt road running through. Marla, Heather, Vicky and I amused ourselves by telling jokes... some bad, some good and most including references to Janek, our volunteer coordinator, and his Manchester accent. We stopped to dismantle a small stone wall constructed across the road. After that it was smooth sailing, except for the part where the bus had to weave around more stones and glass, the ticket checking guy getting out to move the most unavoidable pieces. Smooth sailing into Puno, on the shores of the highest navigable lake in the world, Titicaca. Or as I have heard it called, "Booby-Poopy". Not my words.
Love,
Julia

Princess Jasmine goes camping.

I woke up to a knock on my door rather than my alarm clock. It was 7:30 a.m., an hour and a quarter after my intended meeting time with Marla and our guide from rock-climbing, Chalex. So much for the showering off last nights dancing sweat...

Our weekly volunteer costume party is at the Aldea Yanapay restaurant on Friday nights. The theme this week was "Disney". A Princess Jasmine costume easy to pull off, thanks to my partiality to a certain turquoise colour and arabian-style pants.  The only things I bought were a couple of scrunchies and a golden bangle, which cost me four soles and fifty centimos ($1.60). I figured no one would recognize Jasmine without her hair so I put my leggings on my head and put the scrunchies on the legs to create her signature voluminous ponytail. After our dinner we played some drinking games, like passing an orange from person to person with your neck ("Nice to meet you too, random german girls breasts!") and musical dance partners where the odd one out had to dance with a broom. Fortunately for me my team kept winning (or losing, depending how you look at it), so I didn´t have to choke down any Ron Cartavo. Later we had a limbo competition, which Marla and I tied for the win. We finished the night dancing at IncaTeam... our costumes (especially mine and Heather´s homemade garbage-bag-and-tape Cinderella dress) drew a few looks. One guy asked where I was from and the way he said it made me think he meant what planet, rather than what country... Marla and I left around 1:30.

Fast forward to 8 am the next morning and I am in a spendy hotel near our bus stop, using my best spanish "pretty please" to convince the concierge to let us use the bathroom before our 4 hour ride; when you sleep through your alarm for the first time ever you neglect important parts of your morning routine. "Us" was Marla, me and a Texan we had just met that morning named Chandler. I feel privileged to have met some named that in real life. The bus ride was sleepy and slightly queasy. A baby bundled in colourful cloth on his mothers back held on to my finger part of the way. We got off the bus and into a taxi in Tinqui. The driver took a regular station wagon up winding, rocky roads that I would never attempt in anything but a quad... or maybe a horse. The land was crisscrossed by dozens of mortar-less stone walls (some topped with cacti) containing cows, alpacas and potato crops... dividing the rural area into each family property. We climbed and climbed, further and further from the highway and into the middle of nowhere. We got out of the taxi near the barely-there village of Packchanta, ditching our big bundles of gear at the roadside for the horses and walking the rest of the way to our campsite. At the campsite a stone-scattered valley spread out before us across the swollen Packchanta river. Not a tree in sight, it was as though God had taken a mountain and thrown it to earth, smashing it to pieces of every imaginable size. At the end of the valley loomed snowy Ausangate, impressive even mostly veiled by clouds. Our campsite seemed to exist in some parallel universe, though the village was just behind us, hidden behind the ridge; far from anything but the perfect, lone, white-washed, mud-brick-and-thatch house perched on the hillside to our right. Bouldering and exploring, then a steaming bowl of soup in the Party Tent (as we called our orange, circus-like kitchen tent). We went back out to boulder, but I was too cold for climbing so I started building an Inukshuk nearby. A local woman came by, traditional dress and all, came by to sell me her handicrafts. Luckily for me I hadn´t brought any money. She sat with me for a few minutes anyways, babbling away in Quechua, even though I clearly had no idea what she was saying. Her teenaged daughter came and sat with me when she left, helping me choose stones for my Inukshuk and laughing with me when it fell over.

 In the tent I shared with Marla I changed into my bikini as fast as I could manage then bundled back up into every layer I had brought (plus the down coat Chalex had brought) to ward off the bitter cold of the Andes at night. Fifteen minutes walk to the village later we were stepping into the perfectly warm water of the Packchanta hot springs. It was pretty surreal to sit in deserted outdoor hot pool in the Andes in the dark. I also appreciated the dark because it camouflaged the murkiness of the water. These hot springs were no luxury spa, that´s for sure. The pools were just a pair of rectangular concrete basins (a little slimy in places), the latrine was locked and the change room was a creepy, graffitied concrete box with a dirt floor which I came to refer to as the "Sketchy Shed". But oh how the water warmed you through... and kept you warm until bedtime, which came after the most delicious bowl of spaghetti I have ever eaten. One of the guides with us, Alfredo, was principally there to cook; and cook he did. We ate about five (delicious) meals a day; breakfast, first lunch, second lunch, soup and supper. Camping was not like the camping I have done at home; little annoyances like washing the dishes were non-existent, the food was always ready when we were and because we didn´t have to carry our gear far I could afford to have two sleeping bags.

Thanks to two down sleeping bags I woke up at 6:30 feeling refreshed and ready for a day of hiking.
Six hours went by like lightning. How can I describe the hike? Surreal. Our trail wound past creeks farms and valleys, turquoise lakes and herds of alpacas. The local people tended to their livestock; shearing and  herding, all in traditonal dress. The men wore wide-brimmed felt hats adorned with bright, woven bands. The women´s voluminous skirts swayed as they walked after their alpacas with nothing but crude leather sandals on their feet. Their hats were platter-like circles perched on their heads, secured by strands of white seed beads and covered in colourful embroidery with yellow, red or pink fabric hanging over the edges like a tableclothes. Each lonesome adobe house was a little more remote than you had thought possible before, snuggled into the base of imposing mountains. As we struggled up hill after hill it became obvious that we were at even higher altitude then Cusco. Each twist and turn afforded incredible new vistas; a glacier here a soaring rock face there... We arrived at the base of Ausangate (summit 6384 m), for our picnic lunch of sandwiches, apples and cookies (that would be lunch number one). Clouds twining around the rocky peaks of Ausangate and it´s nearly-as-impressive neighbours lent a mystical impression to the landscape. We sat there staring for a while, layering up again after hiking in powerful sunshine for part of the three hours we had been on the trail. We had to set off again without seeing the full summit, unfortunately. I was filled with energy after our meal and rest and was happy to bound along the now downhill trail when I fell behind taking photos. We crossed a spongy meadow where tiny white flowers punctuated the emerald green grass between deep, serpentine creeks, leaping across the water where we had to. Hawks, viscachas and vicuñas all made their appearances as we went by, the natural inhabitants of the landscape. Rain, sun and wind all fought for supremacy but it was the sun who was winning as we finished the hike and found the perfect spot for a nap. It turned out to be the perfect spot to view Ausangate completely for the first time. I was in awe. A local man stopped by to give Chalex a gift of a whole roasted cuy (guinea pig) and some potatoes in a plastic container. Dinner was good, but it wasn´t cuy. I would rather try it when it is fresh and has been beheaded. After hot-springing it with Marla it was time to get my poi out for the first time this trip and put on a bit of a show beneath the murky multitude of stars.

The next morning we had the most delicious breakfast; homemade hot chocolate, bread rolls with butter and cold chewy, perfectly seasoned alpaca meat (another gift). Mario, our local contact, sat tightening yarn as we ate, waiting to pack up the camp and load the horses for our departure. Marla and I started our return walking as Chalex waited for the gear and the car to load it in. As we passed children in the road we would wish them "Buenos dias." and they would just stare at us and giggle, turning over their shoulders to look as we walked on. I know that because I was turning over my shoulder too. But these were the friendliest most curious stares and it just felt right.

The bus ride back to Cusco, despite amazing views ("So that´s when we gained all that altitude!"), was not the most pleasant experience. Stench, wailing music and inconsiderate behind-seat neighbour. We got back to Señora Haydee´s house twenty minutes before school started. So much for showering off all that camping filth.

With love from,
Julia

Yawar Mayu

I was relieved to get off the bus. It had been swaying through the Peruvian countryside for about an hour, making my breakfast feel a little less than secure. Relieved to get off the bus and into a taxi with a local campesina riding in the hatchback, voluminous skirt, fedora-esque hat and all. Our Peruvian Paso horses were waiting for us by the colonial church in the town of Maras. Waiting with them was an old man in a green felt hat with a crinkly smile. Our guide, Alvisu, introduced us to the horses; Inti (the sun god) and Tobias (I liked to call him Toby) were Victoria and Marla´s mounts. Mine was the beauty of the bunch; a rich bay with a handsome face named Yawar Mayu. Soon we were riding out of Maras, smiling and laughing at the thrill of riding horses... in Peru! To our right, farmland sloped down to plunge into a steep valley whose other side rose abruptly in rugged green peaks. Our path was a dirt track bordered by american agave; winding up and down, in and out of little canyons.Winding out of little canyons and into rolling, tree-less grassland. We waved to farmers, hunched over their crops, as we approached the ruins of Moray. A light, sunny rain was falling.

We dismounted and stared into the deep, amphitheater-like ruin. Built in a meteor crater, the Incas used Moray as an experimental agricultural centre. There is a difference of about a degree Celsius betwen each terrrace; the ones at the bottom once grew coca, which normally only grows in the jungle! The ruin is beautiful; such perfect circles ringed in green. Alvi stayed with the horses while the girls and I descended into the ruins down the steeper-than-they-looked-from-above Inca stairs. I introduced Kyla and Dylan to Marla and Victoria, which made them laugh... they loved the idea. Climbing back out from the very lowest terrace took a TON of energy. An old peruvian man told me to breathe through my nose, which I´m sure would have been very helpful if I wasn´t so congested and physically able to follow his advice. He thought I just didn´t understand Spanish.

We found Alvi and our noble steeds and bridled them back up (just the steeds, not Alvi) to head for our picnic spot. We lunched in the shade of a grove of trees next to an abandoned mud-brick house with a wide view of the valley. From Yawar Mayu´s saddlebags Alvi produced a salad of cooked cauliflower, carrots and beans, bread, cold chicken, yucca and chicha morada. All delicious, even the cauliflower.While we ate Alvi told us that the house belonged to his family and how he dreamed of turning it into a guest ranch. When I went around the front of the house to take some pictures the mountains ahead and to the left pulled me like a magnet. I walked and ran as far towards the "edge" as I thought I could without getting separated from my group. A local man with a cowboy hat on his head and a dog at his side was contemplating the view from a few hundred metres ahead of me. I snapped a few photos, took a deep breath and reluctantly returned to my friends.

Riding on, we quickly noticed the horses´ distinct personalities... Inti was deadset on following our guide horse (even when he tried to pull aside for a picture) and would cut everyone off to be second in line. Toby was pretty lethargic, yet he too wanted to walk ahead of the others. Yawar Mayu was the only one who didn´t mind bringing up the rear, but because Toby would walk so slowly we always ended up tailgating him massively. Consequentially, my left knee was nearly pooped on... twice. I would have rather ridden out front.

The rest of the day was a blur of hoofbeats, sunshine and countryside. People working in the fields would stop to stare at us or call out a "buenas tardes". And a buena tarde it was; drinking in the scenery (think green fields in the foreground and glacier draped mountains in the background), singing and laughing with my group and breathing in the fresh country air. How epic is it to ride through the peruvian highlands on a beautiful horse whose name means "Blood River" in Quechua? The Paso horses gait is famously smooth, but we had to work to keep them moving that way rather than bouncing us around like sacks of potatoes. 6 hours on a horse is a long time. By the time we rode into Chinchero I was getting almost unbearably sore and cold. The most comfortable and (to me) natural parts of the ride were the brief minutes we sped up to a canter along the more level stretches of red earth road. By the end of the day I was more relieved to get off the horse than I had been to get off the bus. All of us, Alvi included, were completely knackered and dozed the whole (freezing cold) taxi ride back into Cusco. I came home from my day of riding feeling like I´d been run over by a bus. Sore muscles? Check. Bruises? Check. Sunburn? Check. Nasty cold? Check.
It´s not a day well spent unless you have battle wounds, right?

Con amor,
Julia

The Ups and Downs of Volunteering at Aldea Yanapay.

I have now been working at Yanapay for two full weeks and three days. Of course there´s a lot more to it than what I described in my first post on the subject and it is well past time for an update.





From Monday to Friday, 3 to 5 for two weeks I continued to tutor Yanapay´s younger children. Their prior education and attitudes were as varied as their personalities. Sometimes the poor quality of peruvian education, its inconsistency was really obvious... I taught a five-year-old who could read fairly well and a seven-year-old who barely knew their alphabet. Some days involved a lot of sighing on my part; trying to get my students to focus, not understanding a childs spanish, feeling completely useless and boring as a teacher. Others were fun and rewarding; finding a fun way to teach letters, having avid readers not want to stop for circle time, sharing smiles, hugs and high fives.

Every day after the first two hours we gather all the School One kids into a circle, holding hands, and march over to School Two for circle time. Sometimes we go as a train, sometimes we are dinosaurs, other days, jungle animals... Arriving at School Two I pry little fingers off my smock and cross the courtyard to sit with my family, who, all trying to get my attention at once, greet me with many hugs and shouts. Once we are all seated, Janek (or Raquel, or Yuri) counts to three and the school falls silent (well, most of the time). Once we start discussion it is a challenge to keep the kids quiet and focused on whoever is speaking. A lot of them are so busy raising their hands and, obsessing about what they want to say, that, when asked, they have no idea what the speaker has just said. We often get a good laugh from a little girl with Down´s Syndrome, Coral, who is prone to spout off nonsensical bits of information. For example, we were talking about birthdays yesterday and she raised her hand to tell us that on her birthday she would be turning Sunday years old. Alrighty then, Coral... Ylla is one of the youngest (and most adorable) girls. When it´s her turn to speak she uses the most hilarious, incessant hand gestures, causing everyone to giggle through her long and detailed stories.

me with some of my Uvitas

After circle time we have our family classes. I spent two weeks in the maroon smock of familia Uvitas with Natalie as my co-teacher. At first, I found my family overwhelming; they have a lot of energy, to say the least. A couple of especially loud and overbearing kids changed the dynamic of the whole class. Anderson always always wanted to be talking and sometimes would even raise his hand shouting, "¡Profe, profe!" the whole time, without having anything to say. When we called on him he would just umm and ahh incoherently! In my family I learned some important phrases very quickly:

Sientete. - "Sit down."
¡Cuidado! - "Careful!"
Calmense. - "Everyone calm down."
¡Chicos, silencia por favor! - "Kids, quiet, please!"
Escuchen su companero, por favor. - "Please guys, listen to your classmate."

A lot of the time it felt like the kids were paying zero attention and couldn´t possibly have taken in any of what we were trying to teach them... But when it came down to it, they were really excited to learn. Actually, I think that´s were a lot of the shouting and craziness stemmed from; everyone wanted to talk about our topic at once! I was constantly surprised by how much they would remember. The first week our theme was to sing a song in english, about nature. When we all put our heads together, we were able to create beautiful costumes and learn, by heart, the words of the song Natalie had composed to the tune of "You are my sunshine." When our Friday show came along, we presented what we had learned to the whole school and it turned out amazingly. The best part though, was the next week, when my family kept bursting into choruses of, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make the trees grow. You make birds sing."  They wanted to sing it before tutoring, while making costumes for the next weeks show, on our walk from rock climbing... The song became sort of our family anthem. Even our next presentation, which was about Colombia (featuring Shakira´s World Cup song) and which I thought was a somewhat of a disaster, was a favourite of all the other volunteers.

presenting what we learned about Colombia

This week I am working with familia Sol (Sun), who are 11 and 12 year-olds. I miss my little Uvitas. Even though they were crazy and exhausting, I find Sol more frustrating. The problem is that they have Attitude with a capital "A". It´s easier (I said easier, not easy!) to get them to pay attention, but harder to command their respect. Sometimes they are sweet and affectioante, but it doesn´t feel real.  When I wait with Sol in line to wash our milk cups and the Uvitas come running out of their classroom to wash theirs yelling, "¡Profe Julia!", telling me how much they miss me and asking when I am coming back to them I can tell where I am wanted.

I don´t know how people can stay here only a week. Even after two and a half I still have so much to learn... In some ways I still feel like a newbie, yet at other times I feel I am an old hand; like when I translated for the english-speakers at our Friday volunteer meeting.

I left this update too long to give a full account of all the joys and frustrations of working at Yanapay (fun kids, working with limited supplies), but I will say that it is both uplifting and frustrating, energizing and exhausting, but most of all wonderful, just plain old wonderful.

Con Amor,
Profe Julia de Canada

Walk Like a Cusqueñan.

    When I arrived in Cusco I took a combi, which merits a story for itself, from the airport to what I thought was the main plaza. That day I got lost and took a much longer than necessary walk to find El Hostal Magico. I could have been really frustrating considering my pack (fortunately it isn't very heavy), all the terrible directions I was given, the shock of the altitude on my lungs, the confusing street names and the crazy traffic, not to mention my ever-increasing hunger and general plain-old-tiredness. Somehow it wasn't though. The magic of Cusco's streets had me from my first steps off that over-crowded van. By the time I made it to the hostel the spring may have faded from my step somewhat, but the smile was still firmly on my lips and heart.

Walking in Cusco is... enchanting? Is that too airy-fairy a word to use? It's the one that comes to mind. For one the streets are all cobblestone. Not just one or two for the postcard pictures. ALL of them. The sidewalks cling to the walls. The walls cling to the shoulders of your shirt or jacket. "You have wall on you," is a common remark among my friends. You know that space between sidewalks and buildings called a yard? They don't have those. Or even that little patch of grass between sidewalks and roads? They don't have those either. I know because today I got clipped by a cars side mirror. Okay, I'm not making this out to be too "enchanting" am I? But honestly, I really didn't mind the whole sideview-mirror-to-the-thigh thing...

In my neighbourhood the street dogs all have their blocks. The mean-looking little one with the squashed face guards to corner of Chaparro and Vitoque. A few, less fiercesome, ones squabble playully over the bottom of Calle Fierro. A couple of walls are held up by posts wedged into the street. Most of the walls in the area are faded and crumbling. An interesting thing about this city is that there are barely any visibly isolated buildings, just a single tall wall (stone on the bottom adobe and plaster for the upper) for each block with doors for each store or home. You get a completely different perspective when you get above street level.  In San Blas the streets climb up and up and up, providing such perspective. You can see into the separate courtyards; laundry lines, tin and clay roofs, trees... the moguls-course-like roof of the cathedral. In San Blas flowers spill over the freshly painted white and yellow walls. Pretty wrought iron designs bar the windows. Cusco spreads out below you, the view changing with every twist and turn.

The Plaza de Armas is the touristy-est place in town. Hands thrust leaflets at you from all sides: "Excuse me, lady. Massage?", "Happy hour, 9-11.", "Tourist information?". If you stand still for more than a second the vendors close in... paintings, touques, jewellry, watermelon, sunglasses. Locals and tourists alike relax around the fountain and on the cathedral steps. Come nightfall there is almost always someone thunking out a lazy rhythm on a bongo drum. The glowing Cristo Blanco watches over the city from the hilltop.

Everywhere you go, ladies with colourful bundles slung over their backs waddle along. On the corners, they stop and unbundle their loads, settling onto the paving stones to sell their cargo... They carry everything; from jewellry to choclo (and the stove to cook it on), bread to babies. The babies aren't for sale though. Sometimes I wish they were; Every baby here is gorgeous. Kids chase balloons down the street, jumping and giggling. Others sell gum and candy to passers-by, tearing my heart out each time I see one of them.

I just want to grab their hands and take them with me to Yanapay, but we are full to bursting and can´t invite any more kids. We have anout 80 coming to the schools each day.

An update on my volunteering at Aldea Yanapay is coming up next. :)

With LOVE,

Julia

Sick.

Yesterday I woke up early enough, but a fever kept me in bed tossing and turning until about 9:30. I felt like I would vomit if I got up. Sure enough, as soon as I stood up I was on my knees in front of the garbage can. The spanish couple in my dorm took care of me, holding back my hair and offering me water. I drank some more, took out the trash bag and went right back to bed until 11:30. I showered to rid myself of the previous days rock-climbing sweat and the gross, dirty feeling of being sick. I ate a mango to try to regain some energy. The shower was more successful than the mango; I still felt extremely weak and achy. I helped Natalie do a bit of research about Colombia (our family is studying it this week), tried to go buy something with electrolytes from one of the tiny convenience shops beside the hostel, both of which were closed (on a Monday at 2!?) and finally (imagining all the kids jumping on me) decided I couldn´t go to school. At about 2:30 I crawled back into bed fully clothed and didn´t wake up again until 7:00... a.m. I think it must have been something I ate the night before; Jen was sick too and she had supper with me. I will have to talk to Marla and ask whether she was ill. We all had the same thing... It has been a bad day for many of the volunteers; Janek and Lucy are in hospital with something similar and I heard of a few others getting sick too. This morning I´m feeling a lot better (I should hope so after 16 and a half hours sleep). I had a real breakfast, got dressed and feel like I could walk more than the distance between my room and the bathroom. For which I am very thankful; I already missed one sunny day in Cusco! And actually, though it is another beautiful day, right now I wish I were home. Or that you were here. I miss my real friends...
Con mucho amor, te extraño,
Julia

"You have a drunk drivers tan."

I just got back to the hostel after a day of rock-climbing.
Apart from having fun, the reason we went was to prepare ourselves to take about 25 of the older kids from Aldea Yanapay climbing on Saturday. ¡Que locuro! What madness! I think it will be a really fun opportunity for them, though. My peruvian co-teacher from familia Uvitas, Natalie, arranged it with a guide she has climbed with before. There were four of us volunteers there; myself, Natalie, Sam from Manchester and Marla from Alaska. Alex the rock climbing instructor´s paramedic friend Fabio was there too, because he will be teaching a first aid class on Saturday. We met in Plazoleta San Blas just after 8:30 in the morning. I put sunscreen on for the first time since arriving in Peru as we waited for Alex and Fabio in the glorious sunshine. I put on a good hearty dose too, because it exploded out of the tube thanks to the air travel!

The taxi ride out of the city took us by the ruins of Sacsayhuaman and Q´enqo. Driving out of Cusco, weirdly, reminded me of Australia... because the hills on the outskirts of the city are covered in Eucalyptus trees. When we got out of the car I felt like dancing! It was such a relief to be out in the hills and  fresh air, with Cusco just out of sight. I really do enjoy Cusco, but I am a country girl and definitely need a break every once in a while. Our climbing spot was just a few minutes´ walk off the road, a small-ish, lumpy, rock face with a fang-like protrusion sticking out from of the green hills. The whole area was grassy, with jagged grey rocks sticking out  everywhere and purple flowers scattered accross the hilltop. Alex and Natalie set up the ropes for rappelling while the rest of us took in the view and breathed deeply. I was excited to strap on a snazzy tuquoise, purple and neon yellow harness, knowing I was about to climb "real live rocks" for the second time in my life. The rappel was an uneven vertical face at the top and then a "negativo" at the bottom, which just meant that the face angled back, preventing you from touching it. On our second rappell we waited at the bottom and then set ourselves up to climb. Fabio made it look easy (and sylish, with his pants tucked into his socks), but the wall was actually quite challenging. I was the first to try it (tucking my pants in too, of course!) and fell off trying to get out of a sticky spot. Swinging on the rope is fun, so I didn´t mind falling. That is, until Marla made it up first try! Though she is more experienced... Sam was facing a fear of his (heights) and did really well, making it up to where I fell the first time. The second try I made it a lot farther, but still not quite to the top. We spent a while learning our knots, then gathered up the gear, ate our lunches (avocado and tomato sandwich and chocolate cookies) and started our walk back in to Cusco. It was a beautiful walk through the rolling, emerald hills and past various lesser-known ruins. At one point we saw lots of horses being ridden and grazing. I wanted so badly to hop on one and gallop through one of those fields in the rain, which was falling gently though it was still sunny. At one point there was a lost in translation sort of moment discussing the different expression for farmers tan in our respective languages. Marla had zoned out and asked what we meant by a "drunk driver´s tan". :) We spent a while bouldering at some pre-Inca ruins. Moving sideways along a wall barely as tall as yourself, with minimal footholds, is harder than it looks, especially when the ants who live around your handholds start climbing on and biting you. I managed to do both walls I tried; the ants were just motivation to do it faster. The walk back to Cusco was along a grassy path flanked by low, stone walls. The sun was so powerful today that despite two applications of SPF 55 my skin is displaying evidence of the beautiful weather. I had a late afternoon meal of salad, soup, rice, peruvian soy-meat stew and cool chamomile tea with Marla and Natalie on our way home. The whole thing cost 5 soles (about $1.80). The combination of sun, rock-climbing, food and a long, long walk left us completely "knackered" (as Sam said). Time to go nurse my sunburn and maybe take a little nap before maybe going out tonight.

With love,
Julia