And so we come to the end

Our last few weeks in Peru went really quickly. We finished our artisan stories and photos, sent them to the appropriate clients, and saved them in a place we hoped Yannina and Christina would remember to access when looking for stories. We finalized our last few “how to do this specific computer task” documents and sent them a massive email about where to find all of the items we’d worked on, all now in one folder on Christina’s computer. 

The staff of Manos Amigas took us out for a goodbye lunch at everyone’s favorite place - La Pollera, where else?! - which was really kind and unexpected. 

From left: us, Mamita (Yannina & Roberto's mom), Yannina, Maria Esther (one of the quality control/packers), Mario, Giuseppe, Roberto, Christina, and Sheila (the other quality control/packer). The only person missing is Dieuwe.

On the whole, as positive of an experience as we had, as helpful and non-difficult as we tried to be, and as much as Yannina appreciated our work and Manos Amigas liked us as a family, I don’t think we changed their minds about volunteers and how difficult they can be to work with. Not all organizations are equipped to handle volunteers, of course, nor do they have to be, but I wish we had been so fabulous and essential to them to have changed their outlook on volunteers.

We tried to be pretty deliberate about fitting in some of our favorite things before we left, but of course, you never end up doing everything you mean to do. Time just runs out. And so, after 18 flights, 2 overnight bus trips, approximately one million city bus rides within Lima, 40 artisan visits, one earthquake actually felt (among the dozens that happened), countless cheap, delicious and intensely strong El Pan de la Chola cappucinos, and 25 different places where we ranked pisco sours on our extremely scientific rating system, our time in South America came to an end.

In some ways, it’s nice to be home. For as busy and frantic a street as we lived on in Lima, we practically live in the country by comparison here. A car drives by and all of us neighbors look out our respective windows to see who it could possibly be. I like hearing the owls hoot overnight. As I type this, I can see a gorgeous pileated woodpecker peck away at the redbud tree just outside our window. I really like being able to go to the library and check out books! We are so fortunate to have wonderful friends here. I’m glad that we all now can wear functioning seatbelts when we are in a car, I don’t have to dig toilet paper out of my backpack when we are using a bathroom not at our apartment, and that we don’t have to pay to use public bathrooms. Drinking water straight from the tap is pretty fabulous, and so are water fountains, one of Simon’s new fascinations.

But otherwise... coming home has been hard. Starting with the bluster and belligerence and swagger of the US airport employees didn’t help. It was harder than I expected to leave behind the things I loved about Lima (like living in Spanish, walking one block to our local mercado every day for fresh fruits and vegetables, riding the bus anywhere and everywhere, having some time every day that I could work) and adjust to needing to get in the car for absolutely everything and becoming Simon’s primary caregiver again. While our time in Peru wasn’t all fun and relaxation, we have both commented on how hard it is here to not to get really tense and rushed while driving, always late for something. I much preferred just being on a bus or in Gustavo’s taxi.

I suppose part of my adjustment in returning stems from my uncertainty about what my future looks like. For about ten years, we’d discussed our dream of living abroad. And so much of the last few years was filled with our plans for the sabbatical, making it happen, living the experience. Now it’s over. Sam knew exactly what he was returning to - running Global Gifts - and is really excited about that. I knew that I would spend several weeks or months starting to find my way around an Indianapolis I don’t know well, the Latino Indianapolis, trying to figure out what the organizations are that serve the Latino population here and, at the same time, trying to figure out what sort of role I could carve out for myself within that community. I want to keep improving my Spanish, and I want Simon to keep his. But what does that look like? Hopefully I’ll have some answers in several months.

I feel like I’m in a speeding car, staring in the rearview mirror, panicking as I watch Lima quickly recede into the distance. I’m not ready to be done with it, I’m not ready to move on from it. I know my thoughts about our year there will morph as time passes. But this is where I am, now.

However, I’m happy to say that I am the only one with transition issues. Sam is pumped to be back and really excited to return to Global Gifts, full of energy and new ideas. He officially goes back to work full-time tomorrow, although he’s been happily going to meetings, working part-time, and generally getting back into the swing of things for several weeks now. Simon has started preschool one morning a week at a co-op close to our house, and he loves it. He still talks about Dieuwe and Giuseppe often, and the kids even Skyped one afternoon, a funny five minutes of making faces to each other on the computer.

Simon has also spent a lot of time catching up with old loves (like his bike helmet. Not the bike, mind you, just the helmet.) and started up new affairs (like “driving”). He heard me say “Hallelujah!” in response to a friend saying she was coming over, and that has quickly become a favorite word of his. He likes to exclaim it in the funniest and most random of situations, like when I get him second helpings, when he’s allowed to help grind the coffee, when he realizes he gets to go to Sunday school or preschool. “Hallelujah!”

The bike helmet is always a great fashion accessory.

The helmet adds flair to a harmonica/giant ball bounce session. 

Just in case Simon falls off of Sam's lap, we know don't have to worry about his head!

Behind the wheel, obsessed with the hazard lights

Simon has easily solved the problem of not being able to see out the window while "driving".

A perfect example of the difference in our living situations - in Lima, in never rained and if it did, we wouldn't have anywhere to go puddle jumping. Plus, the ick factor of the black pollution in the puddles would have given us pause. Here, it poured one morning. Simon pulled on his new boots from Lucy and spent a ton of time getting thoroughly soaked!

Such concentration!

We hope to return again to Peru, this time just as visitors, of course. We’ve even tossed around the idea of leading a tour to Peru in a couple of years. It would probably be a mix of visiting different parts of Lima and artisan workshops, then probably going to Cuzco for a coffee tour through one of Equal Exchange’s suppliers and then on to Machu Picchu. Let me know via email if you are interested; we can decide if it’s a viable idea based on the response.

And so the year of magical traveling has come to its end. While I’m sure our year would have been amazing no matter where we had ended up, I feel so fortunate to have spent it in Peru. It has truly been a magical year! I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to do it, from the Global Gifts board and staff giving Sam the time to do it, to Manos Amigas opening their doors and families to us.

Thank you for being part of this year, too! It has been such fun to write this blog and share random experiences with everyone. Thanks especially for sticking with me through the long and longer posts - I genuinely meant to keep them short but somehow I always found there was so much to say.

I ran out of time to tell various stories that stayed in my head, wanting to be recorded but other stories took precedence. So I’ll leave you with a medley of images instead.

In Piura, we were staying at a crappy and slightly sketchy hotel with a shared bathroom for the four rooms on our floor. In the middle of the night, someone stole the lone light bulb in the bathroom.

In Lima, our trash was picked up not once every night but TWICE! If you missed the 10 pm-ish pick up, you could put it out again for another pickup around 3 or 4 a.m. But if you put it out too early - before 7 pm or after the second pickup - you were subject to a fine.

Our Santa Cruz neighbors were pretty invisible and unknown to us until they - random people, I thought - started commenting on Simon as we would pass on the street or at the mercado. “I work in that building over there. I see him pass by every day. He’s getting so big!” Little kids I thought I had never seen before (and vice versa) would stop me on the malecón and say, “Is that Simon?” Surprised, I’d say yes, how did you know? “I see him all the time!”

The cobradores, the guys (occasionally a woman) who collected bus fares, helped direct traffic via hand signals out the window, and generally acted as the bus driver’s assistant, are on their feet for 12 hours a day. They hustle back and forth on packed buses, making change, remembering who has gotten on the bus through both the front and back doors in the last 10 minutes and who still needs to pay. And for all that, they make just 30 soles per day, the rough equivalent of $12 or $13. That is what a 30 minute taxi ride to the Lima airport costs!

In northern Peru, the Conga mine protests have forced delays in an extremely controversial mining project since December. The project has finally been put on indefinite hold. I resented reading in the Wall Street Journal that the protesters were characterized as radical and extremist but I suppose that is to be expected in a newspaper focused on business interests. I don’t think any Peruvian wants or expects the mining industry to completely cease in Peru, but this specific project has so much local and indigenous opposition that I am glad for them that it is on hold.

We were always so out of place that we were therefore not able to use that as a reason to not go to an event or do an activity. For example, we trekked to Lima centro to attend an event billed as an urban street arts festival. There was lots of skateboarding, hip hop, beatboxing, breakdancing, spray paint/graffitti art, etc. It was a lot of fun and we were glad we went. While I would like to think I would go to the same event in Indy, I know my uneasiness at being too obviously out of place would tend to keep me away.

As we walked on a busy street near the square in Arequipa, we passed a group of three young men standing on a corner. I glanced at them briefly as we walked by, saw that the man in the middle was wearing a hospital mask and was being supported by his friends, and then read the sign hanging from his neck. “I have leukemia. Please help me pay for my treatments.” My heart leapt into my throat. That could have been my brother. How could he have stood outside, even held up by friends, in this cold? I shuddered, remembering how much pain Jared was in and couldn't fathom how truly awful it would have been for him had he needed to stand and beg on a corner. The three were a portrait of misery. Was the beggar really a cancer patient or was he simply playing to our sympathy to earn money? I decided I didn’t care and that I’d prefer to err on the side of giving money to someone who didn’t need it than to ignore someone who so desperately did. We turned around and walked back to the corner. They were gone. We walked around for a bit, trying to see if we could spot them on a new corner, but we never saw them again. I assume they were chased off for begging in a popular tourist area.

There were so many stories there, there was so much to learn about and describe. We’ve just scratched the surface during our year there. Now we start the next adventure, this one formed by our life here, finding stories and enjoying exploring Indianapolis with new eyes.

¡Vaya con Dios!

Patriotism or Pay Up

Fiestas Patrias, Peru’s Independence Day holidays, was two weekends ago, July 28-29. Being in another country for their independence day celebrations was fun and yet another cultural experience to participate in.

At the beginning of July, the city put up eight enormous Peruvian flags at the óvalo a block from our apartment.



After that, Peruvian flags popped up on buildings everywhere. The supermercado Wong wrapped up its large building in a giant red and white ribbon, and the unfortunate male baggers who work there had to wear a ridiculous straw cowboy hat/white poncho getup for the week leading up to the party.

On one of my near-daily trips to our mercado in mid-July, I checked out one of the puestos. This particular vendor changes her puesto’s look constantly, depending on what special occasion is coming up. When I bought yellow underwear from her for New Year’s, her stand was 100% yellow. For July, it was a sea of red and white.

Tacked up in the corner of her puesto was a news article announcing that any building not flying the Peruvian flag for Fiestas Patrias was subject to a fine of S/1800 (about $700). She had the sign up to encourage sales: since you have to buy one somewhere, buy it here!

That explained why Christina and Roberto had hung one on the top of our building, and why Manos Amigas had one flying too. It also explained the flags on construction sites, tiny newspaper stands, even the snack carts on wheels.

I asked Christina about it and she nodded, surprised that I was surprised. “It’s the law for the country. It used to be that you had to paint your house for Fiestas Patrias.” “You had to paint the flag on your house?” I asked, shocked. “No, no, you just had to put a fresh coat of paint on it so it would look nice for Fiestas Patrias.”

Flag waving in the US makes me uneasy, as the flag is a very loaded symbol and I have baggage accompanying it. Here in Peru, I have no similar baggage. So we showed our Peruvian spirit by wearing our Peru shirts and waving our little (free) Peruvian flag during the Fiestas Patrias parade.

I even tacked onto my backpack the Peruvian flag pin that the puesto vendor gave me when she heard we were leaving the country soon. None of those things - wearing a USA shirt, waving a US flag, or wearing a flag pin - am I prone to do at home. I suppose the more you know your country, the more you are apt to have conflicting feelings about it.

Still, I do think it’s kind of nuts to mandate the flag display. I appreciate that, back home, I have a choice whether or not I fly the flag on July 4, and that choice won’t cause me to break the law or my bank account.

Dressed-up dogs, Peruvian style

I am finally blind enough to the dressed-up dog phenomenon that it takes a really dressed-up dog, perhaps also color-coordinated with its owner, to make me laugh and remember to tell Sam. I feel like we’ve seen it all, including a doggie birthday party for 8 tiny chihuahuas, all dressed in pink and purple dresses, complete with cake and presents. But I still have a lot to learn about the extent to which Peruvians will go to to doll up their dogs.

Case in point: Simon and I went to the park on the malecón one Sunday morning to escape church. We could see that something huge was about to happen: lots of booths were set up, a large video screen was broadcasting, there were large, cordoned off areas, people were gathering. Maybe Peru was playing in the World Cup playoff series...? I couldn’t figure out why else they would have a giant screen.

Oh, because it was the Master Dog CanFest. That screen was to broadcast all the doggie tricks! People were lined up near the sign to “make your dog a star” and one by one would take the stage to cajole their dog into doing whatever trick they do at home. All of the dogs, however, were too distracted by all the other canines and their own image on the giant screen to do much more than walk in circles or run off the stage.

The stage, complete with loud music while the dogs "performed" and a Master Dog commercial repeated 4-5 times in between each dog "trick"

I saw dogs wearing strands of pearls. Taffeta dresses with tulle. Full body sweatshirts. Overalls. Army fatigues.

Leather booties!

It's not just women who doll up their dogs... men are definitely equal participants in this craziness! 

Plaid is always a nice fashion choice, especially in fall.

You could buy your dog any number of outfits at various booths. You could purchase costumes for Halloween or whatever other opportunity exists to put dogs into princess outfits and Spiderman costumes. 

I think I'm partial to the cowboy getup, complete with holsters for my pup's pistols.

You could have your dog’s professional photo taken or portrait drawn. You could talk to someone about ways to go on adventure trips with your dog, like camping, canoeing, or hiking.

For a couple of hours, Simon and I were enthralled. While I’m hoping that this is as extravagant as it gets, I have learned my lesson and am prepared for a thousand-dog-strong parade, complete with catwalk and music. One can only hope.

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.

Dad's recuerdos de Peru

I invited my parents to write a guest post, if they so desired, about anything from their visit. My dad took me up on it.

Ahhh, Peru!! 

When Alison, Sam and Simon created an opportunity for themselves to work in fair trade issues with Manos Amigas in Lima, our Peru trip was a certainty.  

To see them was great pleasure: their immersion into the Lima scene; becoming full-blown Spanish speakers; working with an organization which operates far from efficiency, but working with them nonetheless; visiting the homes and workshops of the very artisans who create the products that Sam buys for Global Gifts and Ten Thousand Villages buys for their stores; experiencing their love for Simon; experiencing Simon’s zest for life and his totally good-natured demeanor. 

  

Visiting Peru was icing on the cake: a new country, new cities, a new culture and Machu Picchu, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.


This guest post is a vignette of impressions and observations. 

Street crossing: Alison was right! You take your life in your own hands when crossing a street. The pedestrian sits at the bottom of the totem pole of street value. Even when the light turns RED – STOP, LOOK both ways. When all vehicles are stopped, you move.

Crossing the street in front of the apartment can be scary when two of these buses are passing on either side of you! 

Sidewalk walking: Simon is babe-in-arms or on shoulders at all times. The street is too close for comfort and the vehicles move far too fast to stop for ANY intruder in their pathway. 

Bus riding: Have an unsettled stomach? Riding old recycled American school buses will settle it quicker than you can say “speed bump”. No suspension delivers the settling process. And HOLD ON! Stops and starts can leave you in a stranger’s lap. 

Music of Vehicle Horn Blowing: Look at that ant parade on your driveway. Seeming chaos, yet all are moving - with twists, turns, starts, stops - in the same direction. Add vehicle horns to that parade with each ant required to toot, screech or bellow that horn every 5 seconds and you have Lima traffic. 

Restaurants: La Pollera, San Antonio, Haiti, Mangos, La Granja Heidi, to name just a few. Delicious seafood (perhaps just a few too many calamari in the mix now and then), poultry, potatoes, vegetables. 

Causa at Cesar's

Pisco Sours: Peruvian versions matched both the Chilean and Argentinian versions. Mmmm! Refreshingly good! 

The Malecón: Located just three blocks from Alison, Sam and Simon's apartment, the malecón sits on the edge of a 200’ cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The malecón is a park with walkways, playgrounds, flower gardens, ice cream vendors, sculpture gardens, dirt-bike track, skateboarding park, parapente launching area, lighthouse… The malecón stretches for several miles down Miraflores’ coastline. The Lima city map stretches from outstretched arms one hand to the other hand AND you need a magnifying glass to read the street names. 

The Incas: Inca art reflects a highly developed civilization. Structures of stone, chiseled with hand-made tools, fit so tightly as to not allow a knife to slide between the stones (no mortar).

Their knowledge of the sun is reflected in Machu Picchu’s Temple of the Sun, a round tapered tower. In the center of the temple is a carved rock with a straight edge. During the summer solstice, this edge will align precisely with the light falling through the only window of the temple. The Incas identified many constellations. One was the Llama. The llama disappeared from view in August and was thought to have gone to the underworld to fill up with water. Its reappearance in January signified the llama’s being filled with water and therefore commencing the rainy season.

Machu Picchu: (I will merely outline the day for Chris and me.) Alison was feeling better but not ready for a trip. Both Alison and Sam encouraged us to not miss our chance to visit. A taxi picked us up at 6:30 a.m. and delivered us to the Cuzco bus station; bus to Ollantaytambo; PeruRail to Aguas Calientes; bus up side of mountain on dirt road with at least 8 hairpin curves to Machu Picchu. 2-hour guided tour. After our tour, we climbed to the Caretaker's house to take photos of Machu Picchu, which are the classic ones seen on most photos – sans the visitors.

All steps extended beyond our normal lift and decline. Mysterious experience of being at the edge of the rain forest at 7,000’; peaks, once shrouded in clouds, suddenly revealed their 12,000’ height, then just as quickly hid from view. Classic pictures of Machu Picchu do not reveal the size both in depth and height. Agricultural terraces extended hundreds of feet down the steep side of the mountain. The opposite side plunged thousands of feet to the Urubamba Valley. No missteps please. We returned by bus to Aguas Calientes only to find that a landslide which broke the rails on the railroad would keep us there until removal of slide and repair of track. This created great conversation opportunities for strangers. Ours was with German students on a long South American journey. Slide was cleared and rails fixed in 3.5 hours! PERURAIL!! Return rail trip was tense. Nighttime and the ferocious Urubamba River churned just outside our railcar window. What if? Arrived back in Cusco at 12:30 a.m. SUPER DAY!

The Urubamba River

Cuzco: Cuzco was the center of Inca culture. The capital. Beautiful city at 11,000’. (I was too chicken to drink coca leaf tea, although I did not experience altitude illness.) Cuzco was built to form the shape of the puma. The city map outlines the puma. Within that area all buildings are stone. No concrete permitted. Visited the Pre-Columbian Art Museum, Inca Museum, Temple of the Sun-Qorikancha and Saqsayhuaman Ruins.

Street Width: Although the center city of Cuzco has wide streets running around the Plaza de Armas and a few other main streets, most of the remaining streets are narrow. Outside our hotel the busy street ran 11’ wide and steep with the surface consisting of potato-sized stones set on edge. Just try to stop fast! The sidewalk walked one person wide. You needed to step into the street to pass. 

Interesting Encounters: In Pisaq a boy was selling little bird whistles. “How much?” I asked. “5 soles.” Hmm. I’m supposed to bargain but I didn’t have the heart.  “I’ll take two.” The next day, while playing with those whistles with Simon, I ran into the same boy. The boy asked, “How much you pay?” I replied, “5 soles.” “Too much! Too much! I sell you for 3 soles!” 

Whistle seller

In Cuzco Alison was feeling well enough to want a carry-in dinner from La Granja Heidi’s. After deciding what she wanted from the menu, I returned and spoke with the owner (Carlo), asking for sure that what Alison was getting was both gluten-free and good for her recovering stomach. He described the potatoes: “Well, they are like, uh, uh, Mennonite potatoes.” “What!?!” I replied. “Mennonite potatoes? I’m a Mennonite.” He said, “Oh you are? So is my wife!!”

Simon and Grandma: They are soul buddies. Whether giving a bath to Simon, changing his diaper or simply playing on the floor, Simon was laughing. He finds pleasure in the simplest of things. We took him to dinner – two hours – and he was totally entertained eating his papas and ketchup.

Family and Peru. What a pleasure! I would return in a heartbeat.

Deadlines and frustrations

At one point during the capacitación training in December, Yannina told the artisans that she would be traveling to an international fair in February and that she would take new product samples, muestras, with her. “Since we have to ship the muestras ahead of time, the deadline to have them in our office is December 16.”

A woman in the front row raised her hand. “I can’t drop mine off until December 28. Can I still bring them?” Yannina said, “OK, the deadline to drop off muestras is December 28.”

I wondered if that deadline would actually be observed. I have heard many comments around the office about artisans not getting products (from muestras to product orders) in on time, but I’ve also wondered if it’s because deadlines don’t seem to be enforced. They seem kind of like the traffic laws in Lima – they are mere suggestions instead of actual rules people obey.

December 28 was a pretty busy day in the office. Artisans had been bringing muestras in every few days, but on December 28, the doorbell rang constantly.

It also rang constantly on December 29 and 30.

The first two weeks of January were pretty busy too.

Artisans would bring in packages of product samples to show Yannina, who would suggest changes in color or design based on what she thought would sell better. Sam enjoyed getting a chance to see the muestras come in and see how artisans had incorporated his suggestions during the capacitación. Yannina would frequently consult with him about pricing and design.

By mid-January, we learned that instead of shipping muestras to Germany ahead of time, Yannina and Mario planned to bring the muestras in their suitcases. I wondered if that meant they would accept muestras up until the last minute, or whether they had a new cut-off date.

We left for Argentina and enjoyed a two-week break from volunteering. We returned to find muestras still coming in, mere days before Yannina and Mario were to leave for the fair.

I can understand that Manos Amigas wants to give artisans every opportunity for success by putting their muestras in front of potential buyers. I am continuously impressed by how Yannina puts the artisan first. She clearly lives her dedication to them. She hasn’t just given some artisans second chances, she’s worked with them long past the point I think most would. Once she told us, “This artisan is a single mom and doesn’t have any other financial support for her daughter. I need to be looking out for her daughter to make sure she can get into college, even if her mom isn’t as focused on that goal.” That is admirable. I’m not sure I would have made the same decision, given all the facts and circumstances. I suppose it is good that no artisans are depending on my generosity for their livelihood.

But, even if you are totally dedicated to giving the artisans every opportunity, are you justified in complaining that the artisans are bringing in muestras late if there is no penalty or ramification for doing so?

I can hear Sam in my head, saying, “Is this something you should really worry about?” I know, I know. I’m not the one traveling to Germany. I’m not the one having to process the muestras. So isn’t this an example of something I should note regarding how Manos Amigas runs and simply move on with my projects?

Perhaps… except that the floating deadline has caused some consternation in our household too.

At the same time as the muestras were coming in, Sam and I needed to make another product catalog. Mario gave me the project and his specifications the first week in January. He emphasized its urgency. To find the product images, we would need to comb through 250 folders, once, to see whether there were any images that fit certain parameters and place them in a new catalog. Not difficult, but time-intensive.

To make a long story short, we went through all 250 folders four separate times and processed photos only to find out later that Mario had moved around photos, added or deleted files, or otherwise rendered all of our work useless. Talking with him about it, proposing solutions, and letting him know why moving files meant that all the work we’d done was now pointless, all proved futile.

I finally just decided I was done with the catalog and went back to another project. Sam, admirably, really wanted it to be completed on time for the fair and started over a fifth time after Mario said he was really, really done. I don’t know that I believe Mario but since it’s not a project I’m working on anymore, I need to not worry about it.


Another thing that frustrates me is that we are not exactly on their radar. I genuinely think they like having us here and they have certainly included us, kindly, in Christmas celebrations and other family events. But then there are things like cell phone numbers. All of their numbers changed while we were in Argentina. After trying unsuccessfully to reach Yannina and Mario for several days, we ran into Christina and asked what was going on. “Oh, all our phone numbers changed. No one told you?” No….

Similarly, their emails all changed about six weeks before we started volunteering with them and we also weren’t notified… while we were wondering if we should panic that no one was responding to us and we didn't have any way to phone them. We came to Manos Amigas once before we started volunteering and met Christina. We even asked about emails. "You sent Yannina several emails? I wonder why she hasn't responded."  We didn't find out about the new emails until we started volunteering with them. On one level, I understand why – we aren’t on their radar. On another level, it freaked me out – we MOVED TO PERU to volunteer with them; please keep us in the informational loop! 

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am so thankful that we have the opportunity to be here and learn more about fair trade, exporting organizations, NGOs, another organizational and societal culture. But I won’t deny that I’m perplexed and annoyed. 


I suppose much of my frustration stems from the fact that I am not in a position to make organizational changes. I am very much a problem solver (as is Sam) and we see a lot of things, small things, that could be tweaked to make a huge difference. Yet providing that sort of advice is not our role... unless, of course, if we are asked for our opinions or given organizational management as a project. I would fall over in excitement, I think, were we given that opportunity, but I'm trying to learn that our solutions have a place within our conversations instead of hoping that we will actually get to implement them.

I wonder if it is common for volunteers in overseas stints - or perhaps full-time volunteers anywhere - to feel similarly. So it goes.

Peruvian bureaucracy is alive and well

Several weeks ago, my mom sent us a package. It was partly a care package and partly items that I had planned to bring (such as my favorite gluten free flour mix) but couldn’t fit in our luggage. After she went through some trouble to send it, she mentioned it should arrive in 6-10 days. That is, if it made it through the customs process. When she was packing it at the post office, she was given a list of forbidden items. She read it over and discovered that she wasn’t allowed to send food. Hmmm. She decided to chance it and send it anyway. Our waiting and salivating began… we were dreaming about the chocolate chip cookies we would make and the coffee we would drink after the package arrived.

 

Finally, a week and a half later, our upstairs neighbor Christina (who is also the office coordinator at Manos Amigas) knocked on our door. She handed us a document and said, "You've been sent a package, but the post office has decided to retain it."

She told us that you could either pay some money and fax your passport to the post office people, and they might deliver it, or you went in person to the post office and they most likely would give it to you.

Packages could be retained at different post offices, and ours somehow had been retained at the one farthest away from our neighborhood. It might take a couple of hours to get there, depending on the mode of transport used. A taxi would be quicker but would be pretty expensive. A bus that passes on our street might go there; she could check with the girls who work at Manos Amigas. They would know.

I should mention that at the time we had this conversation with Christina, I had yet to do two basic things: hail a taxi on the street and get on a regular city bus. We had heard countless stories (both while we were in the States as well as after arriving here) about the crime level in Lima and how dangerous taxis were in particular. One story that stuck in my head is about how the back seat doors are sometimes childproofed and so once you got in, you couldn’t get out until you were let out, after you’d been robbed and perhaps assaulted.

So, I was a little scared about hailing a taxi off the street. The señora had advised us to only take taxis that we’d called in advance, and for the limited number of times that we’d needed a taxi so far, that is what we’d done. (Except for the memorable time that she called a taxi for us going one way – it was 11 soles – and when I called to arrange the ride home, they told me it would cost 45 soles. “But I paid 11 soles this morning for the same ride!” I told the dispatcher. “There is a tariff on taxi rides from the oceanfront on Sunday afternoons,” she told me. Yeah, right. We took a very long walk back instead. And after the señora heard about that, she called up the taxi company and let them have it. It was nice to hear her sticking up for us. Actually, she was sticking up for tourists in Lima everywhere: “You think you’re going to get away with charging someone an exorbitant fee just because they have an accent? Why do you think people don’t come back to Lima? It’s because of you!”)

While we’d taken the Metropolitano bus, which runs on a dedicated street lane on a very specific route and was therefore easy to find and use, I hadn’t hailed a regular city bus yet. Buses don’t exactly have names or schedules. You flag one down and ask if it goes where you’re going. Everywhere I’d needed to go so far, I either walked or took the Metropolitano.

Back to the package dilemma. Christina said since the post office was so far away, perhaps it would be better to just go through the electronic process and hope that the post office would deliver it. But then she added that she had really pissed off the post office folks the last time she contested a retained package, so if she were the person emailing in our information, there was a decent chance we wouldn't receive it simply out of spite. 

We decided we would have an adventure and go get the package. There was gluten-free flour and coffee in there, after all! No way should we leave it to chance.

Christina thought that having Simon would be to our advantage: “If you can get him to cry too, that might be helpful.” After consulting my giant Lima map and figuring out how we might get there, I thought it might take an hour to get there, an hour back, and maybe a half hour at the post office. We’d be back in time for lunch and Simon could take a nap at our apartment. My nerves were a little fried after I read in my Lonely Planet book that they considered the post office’s neighborhood "one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Lima." Great!

The next day, we walked about 10 minutes to a bigger street, then we caught a bus to take us to the Metropolitano line that would take us across the city. We took that until we got to the street of the post office, then caught a mini bus and took it the rest of the way to the post office. That took an hour and a half.

Conveniently, as we walked up to the post office building, Simon fell asleep in the sling.

Simon asleep in the sling, not on the post office trip but during an artisan visit... you can see how  lovely a sleeping boy can be!

Then we went to not one, not two different windows/people to be processed, but FIVE.

First, the woman who took our paper and inspected my passport told me that I couldn't pick up the package because I wasn't Manos Amigas. Then she told me I needed two copies of my passport and then I'd be called to another window.

Sam had to leave the post office and find a copy place to make said copies. Twenty minutes later I was called up to the window; the official filled out some paperwork and the box is brought out. That was pretty easy, I thought. How great that we are about to get the box!

Not so fast. Two officials cut open the box and started inspecting all of the items in it, making a pile of loot on the table next to it. Sam and I were elbowing each other: look at all that Equal Exchange coffee!

I was quietly panicking that they were about to confiscate items in the box, which would have been excruciating after having a glimpse of all the chocolate, coffee, gluten-free treats, etc, just on the other side of a plate of glass. I was holding my doctor's order for a strict gluten-free diet in case I needed to plead my case to someone, and Sam was whispering quit fidgeting, just look normal.

They didn’t say much to us, just filled out a massive amount of paperwork, taped the box back up, and directed us to wait for official window #3. After another 15 minutes of waiting, I was called to another postal person, who typed a crazy amount of information into the computer for an eternity. Either that, or he just pretended to type while surfing the web!

Finally, he gave me still more paperwork and told me to go to line #4 for my box processing. Sam waited in this line while I sat holding Simon, miraculously still sleeping through the cacophony of this giant waiting room, replete with an intercom in frequent use, buzzers, crashing doors, wailing children, and a loud TV.

The official woman in line #4 stamped information on various sheets of paper multiple times, asked me to fill in passport information, typed still more information into the computer, and we signed for the box. Then we went to door #5 to actually retrieve our box. Finally. We quickly discussed: Should we open it up now and eat some chocolate? No, maybe they would realize their mistake and take it back. Let’s leave.

As we're leaving the post office complex, the security guard stopped us, inspected our paperwork, and carefully wrote something important in his log book. Simon woke up as we left, having slept through all hour and 15 minutes of our post office experience.

We hailed a taxi back to the bus station (and I immediately made sure I could open the doors from the backseat!). The bus was packed. We were exhausted. We got off at our stop and decided to walk until we found the bus to take us the rest of the way (a 30 minute walk). We never found the bus and just walked verrrrrry slowly until we passed a chicken place 8 blocks from our apartment and rewarded ourselves with lunch - at 3 pm - complete with pisco sours for us and chicha morada for Simon.

We got back to our place at 4, opened the box, and commenced rejoicing at all of our loot while devouring Trader Joes’ dried cherries and Swiss chocolate. 

What an adventure! Now we’re hopping on buses like pros and I am even negotiating cab fares with taxi drivers! Who knows what the next package delivery might bring? (Just please include some Equal Exchange coffee and chocolate!)

You know what they say about assumptions...

So far at Manos Amigas, we’ve worked on their website, visited five artisan groups in and around Lima, and prepared for the remate (clearance sale) by unpacking and cleaning products, looking up prices, and creating displays. We are in the process of putting together a presentation on product trends for a capacity building training for all of their artisans later next week, about which I'll post separately. But perhaps the biggest aha moment for me so far has been working on their product catalog.

Several weeks ago, Yannina mentioned that Mario was almost done with the new product catalog. “Would you be able to make it into a smaller file size so we can send it to people and post it on the website?” “Of course,” we said. I assumed he was creating a document with product images; that he sent this document to their clients; and I needed to PDF it or otherwise shrink the file size.

That will be pretty simple, I thought, and we moved on to another project.

Last week, Mario told me he was done with the catalog. Could I come look at his computer while we discussed the catalog? Of course!

We sat down in front of his monitor. He opened a folder on his computer that contained 1,116 images. “Here is the catalog,” he said. “Where?” I asked. “Here.” He gestured to the images.

I didn’t think I understood correctly. “No, what do you send to your clients?” I asked. He looked at the computer. “These images, several at a time.”

What?!? After several more exchanges, I realized that he sends up to 50 emails to one person, with 15-20 individual product images attached, and it’s up to each of his clients to open each email, look at each image, and then tell him what they would like more information about. He then gives them dimensions, prices, etc.

Yikes! I’m surprised that any of their clients are so motivated to actually order products! It has worked fine for them so far, of course, but still.

After realizing that we needed to pull each of those images, plus the file name, into a document, Sam and I went back and forth for a day, researching ways to do it automatically and perhaps using Excel as the final document. Then we realized Mario wanted the catalog ASAP and wanted us to wait to research options until the next catalog issue.

So, back to the basics: we put each of the file images into a table in a Word document, typed out each file’s name below it, and then PDF’d the final result. It took us two days to get it done, and a weekend to get it uploaded to the website, but it’s available now as a private link they can send to their clients.

Everything takes longer than we think it will, almost always because of some computer or other technical issue. And since we are the ones who know computers the best (another yikes!), we’re trying to figure these things out at the same time as we’re trying to meet deadlines.

Part of me always wants to research more options and tinker around to have a more polished final product, but I keep reminding myself that a) there isn't time, and b) I need to keep working on solutions that are sustainable for them after we are gone. Having a slick way to produce their catalog now won't mean much if it's not feasible for them to replicate it next year.

It’s been fun to be working and problem solving with Sam on this. I get to a certain point on a project in the morning and fill him in over lunch; then he works on it in the afternoon and fills me in on where to start the next day.

And just when we think we’re almost done, we find out that everyone has to drop everything and sew product care labels inside woolens for an order that is late in arriving to Manos Amigas but must be shipped in two days. As we joked often at a previous job, referring to the line that was included in everyone’s job description: “Other duties as assigned!”