The strangest, saddest city

It’s almost winter here and you can tell. The mostly sunny days, the days when it would even turn occasionally hot for several hours in the morning, are over. If the sun comes out at all, that is cause for celebration. The air is cool and grayness is settling in.

Herman Melville called Lima “the strangest, saddest city” and on the colder gray days, I can understand why. The garúa blowing in, the gloominess, the chill in the air, not seeing the ocean when we are staring directly at it, all take their toll. It’s easier to feel low on these days and think about what I miss about home. 

Staring at the ocean... compare it with an identical photo with the sun out.

While I love living here and would stay much longer if it were possible, what I think about most are friends. I am really looking forward to being close to people we love and who love us back. I value this time with Sam and Simon, our daily adventures, doing nearly everything, including work, as a family. But going for a year without friends to hang out with has been hard at times.

Just like at home, La Leche has been a lifesaver in connecting me with several other moms, adding in some social interactions on a monthly basis and establishing a couple of friendly relationships.

And we have a lot of casual conversations at parks with other parents, which can be nice. But few people seem interested in actually getting together. Perhaps that is a casualty of living in another country: you get tired of meeting other people who are here for a limited engagement and therefore you decide not to invest any time or energy in them. I get that.

In Ann Patchett's most recent novel says, “Never be so focused on what you’re looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find.” That quote has stayed in my mind all year, as I struggle with Spanish, parenting, feeling friendless, and missing various comforts of home. What I've been looking for was fluency in Spanish, not necessarily friends. I have certainly found my journey with Spanish interesting and compelling, enough to keep me fixated for a long time on continuing to learn it. We have found interesting work, Simon is enraptured with his two favorite playmates, and we have become explorers throughout all parts of Lima. I love our opportunities here. All of these are certainly gifts. And yet, still these strangest, saddest days come and go.

Be

Welcome to our 2011 holiday letter, making a guest appearance online this year as trying to mail cards & letters from Peru was slightly impractical and cost-prohibitive!


This is a different end-of-year letter to write than we normally do; typically this is one of the few times per year we write about what is going on with us for our fabulous but far-flung community of family and friends. But this year I’m writing every week or so, trying to capture interesting or meaningful experiences as we have them, not only to share with you, but also to help us preserve these memories after we’ve returned home. Bear with us as we straddle the line between writing a year-end missive without including too much that is already posted on this blog.


As mentioned elsewhere, we are spending Sam’s sabbatical year in South America, mostly Peru, and the three months we’ve been here so far have been amazing. Since those months are fairly well chronicled here and on Sam’s blog, I won’t say too much about them, other than they are going by very quickly. (If you are interested in having future posts delivered to your email inbox, type in your email address to the box on the top right corner of the blog that says “subscribe by email”. Ditto for Sam’s blog, which you can find via the link at the top, right.)


We tend to pick a word that represents our motto for the upcoming year, and look for a quote that helps illustrate what we mean.

I like to walk alone on country paths, rice plants and wild grasses on both sides, putting each foot down on the earth in mindfulness, knowing that I walk on the wondrous earth. In such moments, existence is a miraculous and mysterious reality.


People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child - our own two eyes. All is a miracle. 

Thich Nhat Hahn

It’s funny how, once we’ve settled on a word, it jumps out at us in a number of situations. I tend to be tense and want to make projections, plans, nail down specifics. Sam tends to want to keep options open and make decisions a little later. With the move to Peru, there have been so many things that we’ve simply needed to wait for (such as finding friends, improving Spanish, various pieces of information) that many of our conversations have ended with some iteration of “Let’s just be. Let’s just enjoy the moment.” Simon, having fun with beginning to say recognizable words, has also enjoyed reminding us to “BEEEEEE!” He’s a good reminder for that in general.

Simon has continued to amaze and amuse us with his energy, good nature, cheerfulness, adaptability, and all-around fun-ness. He is pretty fabulous. He loves mopping, sweeping (both of which come in handy daily here), loading the laundry, and helping us make coffee and juice each morning.

What a huge help he is! He’s starting to want to “help” on the stove; yikes! He’s started waving hello and goodbye to strangers as well as whenever cars honk, which means he’s incessantly waving; he likes playing with other little kids at the playground and is currently only sliding down the slide backwards. But more than anything or anyone else, he loves playing with Dieuwe, Yannina’s 11-year-old daughter, and Giuseppe, Christina’s 6-year-old son. He runs to the window to wave goodbye to Giuseppe when he leaves for school, and when we see Dieuwe at Manos Amigas he screams with delight and off they go to play.

Sappy or simplistic as it sounds, a lot of this year was just about enjoying life during long talk/walks with friends and their kids, and the anticipation of the sabbatical in South America. Besides being in Peru or planning for Peru, other significant and/or special happenings for me (Alison) this year included:


I finished the book of Jared’s blog, finally. We threw a party to celebrate.


Some of the backstory: When my brother, Jared, was diagnosed with leukemia in 2007, he started a blog on CaringBridge. After he passed away in 2008, I didn't want his blog to just disappear. I wanted his sons (so young when he died: Caleb was 2 years, Noah 4 mos) to get to know their father as they grew up, through his writing as well as what other people remembered about him. I wanted them to see a gazillion pictures of Jared, encompassing his entire life instead of just the 8 months of his leukemia fight.


So, I decided to make a book of his blog, with additional sections for Jared's obituary, memorial services, letters & stories from friends, some of his widow Anne's posts, and two memorial events at Camp Friedenswald. I wanted to make five copies of this book - one for each of his sons, Anne, my parents, and myself.


I worked with a designer to place the text and photos and create the sections somewhat close to how I'd envisioned them. I formatted the text & cleaned up all the abysmal spelling from the comments. In August 2010, I finally dropped off the printed copies of the book to a bookmaker, who had agreed years before to stitch and hand-bind each book.


And, three years after I started working on this project, the five copies of this book were finally completed. They are gorgeous. I wish I would have taken photos of them all together, but alas, that opportunity is gone. As each book is over 800 pages long, it takes some serious reading to get through it. The professionals I worked with did an amazing job. I am so grateful to have his elegant and honest writing, with silly and serious photos, in a beautiful package for our family! My uncle blogged about the book too; read what he had to say.


I worked part-time during the summer, covering some duties during a maternity leave for a friend and former co-worker. It was fun to get back into the work force a day or two per week, and Simon had a blast with his babysitter friend Kelsey. It helped me better consider various factors I’d like to have when I go back to work in a more permanent employment situation, as has my part-time volunteering here with Manos Amigas.


I also really, really enjoy continuing to help run the arts committee at my church. We got an arts space (MennoArts Gallery) up and running with several shows this year, and had a number of projects in the hopper before I left. It will be fun to step back into those projects, and whatever is next on our plate, when we return.


And now, switching to Sam…


This year has felt like a year of preparation for my sabbatical and our year in Peru. This is something Alison and I have wanted to do for years and have been plotting for as long to make it happen. But a whole new level of planning was needed to make the actual jump.


I spent much time laying the groundwork for my absence from Global Gifts. An important and insightful task was writing out my job description. As Global Gifts has grown over the years my responsibilities have changed significantly. I had to sit down, think through, and write all that I do. It was insightful because before that exercise, I think I would have had a bit of difficulty explaining my job in detail. The next step was hiring and training my replacement and splitting up my job responsibilities between that person and other people on staff. In the middle of all of this transition, we needed to move one of our stores to a new location. This involved much negotiation with landlords, handwringing, and the logistical challenge of closing one operation and opening another. We had the grand opening for this new store September 9, and we left for Peru the following week (just under the wire). I’m pleased to say that things are going very well in my absence and it looks like Global Gifts is having a record sales year. That success is a real tribute to the many people involved with Global Gifts. Our time in Peru and meeting many artisans reminds me just how important it is that Global Gifts continues to do well.


In addition to my responsibilities with Global Gifts we needed to find renters for our house and move out. This experience was not too unlike opening the new store in terms of handwringing, negotiations, and logistical challenges. But on the plus side, it did prompt us to get rid of a lot of extra stuff.


During those last few months before we left, I kept thinking, when I get on that plane, I’m going to breathe a huge sigh of relief and enjoy the slowness of my sabbatical. It didn’t quite turn out that way but gradually life has slowed down. Spending so much more time with Simon, while not relaxing, is a real joy and a great benefit of this sabbatical year.


While blogs are great for keeping up with what is going on in someone else’s life, it’s certainly no match for an actual conversation or visit. As you have the time and interest, we would love to hear (or read!) what is going on with you and your family.


Much love,
Alison & Sam

We made it through the first week!

And so it begins… our year of magical traveling kicked off last Saturday, when we had an epic day of traveling. After an early morning flight to Miami, 8 hours hanging out in the airport there, and a 5 ½ hour flight to Lima, we arrived late at night, breezed through customs, were greeted by a giant throng of people, and were launched into a relatively warm Lima night. It took another hour or so to reach our hotel, and the epic day finally concluded. Simon was a real trooper; his day began at 4:30 a.m. and ended at 12:30 a.m., and still he was his normal fabulous self. (And he liked carrying his backpack full of his treats – see the pic.) He had a blast in the taxi from the airport: for the first time outside of a carseat and facing forward. He joyfully called out every car, truck, and bus he saw for the first 20 minutes or so... which meant he was pointing and exclaiming nonstop.

We’ve finished our first week here: a week of Spanish classes and a week living with a family. This household is very international: the señor is from Peru, the señora is from Colombia, and they have a 10 year old son. There is a retired Canadian banker who is here for another couple of weeks who is also studying at our Spanish school, a young Japanese businessman, and then the three of us from the States.

It takes about 20-25 minutes to walk to our school. More on that in another post. It’s nice to have a 40-50 minute walk in each day, something we didn’t necessarily do in Indy.

We have three weeks more of the Spanish classes/homestay.  It’s clear that the family loves Simon, but their ways of expressing it are a little much for us at times. The señora and her son have very big personalities and are very in-your-face. (Such as: one time Simon and I came out of the bathroom and were immediately surrounded by the señora, her son, and the dog. The idea of personal space is very different here!) Simon tends to be a little timid until he feels comfortable, and so the first week was full of them picking him up and trying to get him to do certain things, with him having a panicked look on his face and calling/reaching out to me. I was trying to set a balance between not offending them and responding to Simon’s pleas.

Maybe it’s culture shock, and maybe it’s just that I’m too sensitive/take things too personally, but several things are make me uncomfortable here in the house. The one that I’ll mention today is that the señora is full of opinions and is very vocal about them. Here’s a sampling: you guys are crazy for traveling with a small child; he needs to stay at home more; he needs to be with other children in a day care; he needs more clothing; you shouldn’t let him use sign language because boys learn to speak later than girls anyway and he needs to learn how to speak instead of just using his hands to communicate – it’s too easy for him; he should eat differently. Whatever!

In general, I am trying to just let her express her opinions and then just keep doing whatever we would do anyway. We probably are pretty crazy in some ways, but I think it’s pretty funny that she thinks we are doing everything wrong, yet she keeps commenting on how well-behaved Simon is, how he never cries, etc. Of course, part of that is the luck of the draw. But I’d also like to think part of it is because of how we are parenting him.

If it weren’t for our concern about Simon, it would be a pretty ideal set up. The food is amazing, there are lots of parks nearby, it’s on a quiet street, the family is generally pretty welcoming. And then the señora tries to force food into Simon’s mouth or take him into a different room when he is crying for me… no. So, in general, we reformulate our strategy day by day for dealing with the señora and Simon. If you’ve had any experience with Latin American cultures and your children, I would love to hear your experiences/recommendations!

The food in the house is incredibly delicious, of course. The juices, a different one every morning, made minutes before we come to breakfast, are fantastic. The soups at dinner… I don’t even need more food than that, if could just have two or three bowls of it. They are so, so delicious. I asked the señora this morning if she’d teach me how to make the juices and she said no. No!??! Wow, I was thinking it would be a compliment to her as well as something that Sam, Simon, and I could continue to enjoy once we have our own apartment, but perhaps we’ll just have to wing it. She said, essentially, that there wasn’t anything to it and that sometimes she would put spices in it that perhaps I couldn’t eat, being celiac, and since there wasn’t a recipe, then no. Oh well. Maybe now I’ll just ask each morning what is in it and take secret notes!

It will be nice when we feel more comfortable and at ease with things. Everything takes time, a lesson I need to relearn every single day!

The Big Change

Our church publication asked me to write something about "Big Changes" for an upcoming issue with that theme. I figured that article was a good way to kick off this blog, too.

One of my favorite bosses was fond of saying, “Change is the only constant.” While I didn’t quite understand or believe her at the time, I now find myself thinking that same phrase with some frequency. The last year and a half has been a big change for me, period, as I had Simon and left work. For all the planning that went into both of those events, those changes were pretty seamless.

And now we are in the middle of another big change. For years Sam and I have talked about living and volunteering in a Spanish-speaking country. Figuring out the timing pre-Simon was the hard part – neither one of us was ready to leave our job. And then we had Simon – how practical was it to consider traveling & living in another country with a toddler?

We quickly decided that Simon would be a fantastic traveler: he’d help start conversations and break down cultural barriers. The timing was right to leave this fall. Sam asked the Global Gifts board for a sabbatical, which they generously granted. Sam hired an interim director and we left mid-September.

I’m writing this four days into the big adventure, so not much has happened yet (at the same time that so much has happened). But I’m constantly reminded that these experiences are always cycling through highs and lows, sometimes many times in a day. There’s the high of speaking Spanish and the low of having our parenting openly judged. There’s the simultaneous high and low of doing something crazy and scary and life-altering: having the dream but also making it happen. The high of meeting new people and planning the next stage of our trip and the low of missing the comfortable routines of home and friends.

During college I took off a semester and went to the Yucatan Peninsula to learn Spanish. I was miserable and considered returning home. I stuck it out, though, and what helped were simple things like looking forward to an activity scheduled for a week later, or walking around and exploring somewhere every day. And now the overall experience is one I value intensely. Remembering that as I cycle through elation and panic is helpful. For all the constant change that we are creating this year, we’ll also create a lifetime of memories for our family.