between a rock and... another rock
lately it feels as though my life is unwinding. fewer and fewer things seem in my realm of control. perhaps it is a test. or perhaps it is my own masochism. i have yet to know.
i wish my father didn't doubt me so much. i wish he wasn't so angry with me all the time. i wish there was a way for him to know that i am strong. he worries about my spirituality. i wish he wouldn't. he wants me to be someone i can't. i could never be that person. but he feels that if i am not, and if i don't try to become it, than i am failing, in a way.
i feel as though i am trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place. i never really understood what was meant by "hard place", but then again I still don't really understand my father. i am not sure where to go from here. when you spill milk on the kitchen floor, you appologize for your clumsiness and then proceed to clean it up. but when your life is disected and deemed incomplete or unsatisfactory by outside eyes, what solution are you left with? do you assume the validity of this person, and immediately begin mending one's being? or do you ignore their heedance and by doing such, sever some of the tendons that hold the relationship together.
in either light, you can't help but feel bad about yourself, your life. what things you might have once been proud of you now throw in careful boxes to be hidden under the bed.
alas. i have no answers. so i guess i must wait for insight from the one who does.
~np
photografia
these are my favourite thirteen shots...for various reasons. i have a lot of photos...and many that i love, but i wanted to keep things concise. so here they are in no particular order:
Plane Light
I took this on the flight from Miami to Lima. At this point, we are over the Carribean and the sun is starting to set itself gently over the beautifully billowing clouds. The picture itself attempts to reflect in my face the tranquil enjoyment i am experiencing out the window.
Window
This was a sneaky shot that i took hanging out of a window across the street. I found the view intriguing. A window into another life.
Fiore
This is Fiorella, Angela's four-year old daughter who is the fireiest little girl i have ever met. She was so photogenic (and loved being photographed) so you will notice her in many of my favourite shots. This one is simply
Fiore - the very essence.
Julio ~ Tiger in a Cage
This was a little boy I met at Raul's birthday fiesta. He bounced off the walls like a little cricket, but was shy of getting his photo taken at first. This was taken later on in the afternooon, after we had bonded a bit, and he took pride in posing his "tiger in a cage" face for me. I loved this door and was excited to get a great shot of it.
At Play
This is a great "light and shadow" shot of Fiorella and Julio playing in the front stoop. It is such a simple shot but the light adds so much depth to both the meaning and presentation.
Chiascuro
This was taken of Fiore as she walked ahead of me down a dark hallway the ran under the ground at the athetics club. Chiascuro is the art term for "using light and dark" and i felt this to be the very eptiome of such, in photograph form. I particularly like the offset subject and slight tilt on the shot.
Papa y hija (father and daughter)
I love this shot partly because of the beautiful lighting, but also because of the subjects positions. Fiore the little firefly, is a step and a half in front of her dadl, and almost pulling him excitedly down the stairs. While Raul holds firmly back, strong and steady, preventing his daughter from flinging herself down the steps in her ecstatic rush for the beach.
hills
Now normally I don't call pictures myself in them my favourites, but i happened to really like the positioning of this shot. Behind me is the beautiful, breath-taking hills of Machu Picchu, with blue-grey clouds and breaking light. By placing the subject off-centre in the foreground, it adds a bit of reality to an otherwise unrealisticly beautiful sight...adding a hint of authenticity and allure.
river below
This shot was from the other side of the hills i stood on to take the previous shot. It is less photographed, but in my opion boasts a better view. Your eyes eventually find their way down to the river, at which point you gasp at how steep the hill is and how far down life goes.
peaches
This is a portait shot of the side of some old buldings in Cusco. The colours are what i love most about this shot. Especially the peachy colour. If you didn't know i took the shot you might almost think it was taken a long time ago.
stop; look
This was one of the stops that the train made on the way to Machu Picchu. It was so beautiful that i couldn't help but taking a picture. One of those "stop and smell the flowers" moments.
steep gaze
It was so fascinating i couldn't help but stand under it, looking up in awe. Such an expressive hillside of sand.
In Plain View
I thought this title and the intended play on words was fitting because this is hardly what one sees when typically looking out the window. These are the hills a Cusco, as we saw them flying in from Lima. It was quite amazing to look at. I got a crink in my next from having my face glued to the window so long.
hope you enjoyed.
~np
another day, a world away
its been a week since i left Peru and all that it was behind me. the cab pulled my heart at every corner as we drove further and further from the place i had called home, in humble Pariachi.
i feel so fortunate to have experienced all that i did, hence my supposed necessity for this blog. i feel it is my duty, nay, obligation, to share my stories with all those who happen to be listening. i miss my Peruvian family so much - the children especially. i wish i could see them everyday, but alas, my north american life awaits me. there is the hope of returning next december if i am accepted into the year abroad program in Ecuador for next year, which the very thought of is exciting.
but in the meantime, my hands are full with the hospital forms and such. hoping that this possibility becomes a reality for wee Esmeralda. i wish i could pause school and give it my full attention, but sadly i am required to multitask. ahhhhhhhhh.
looking at the photos from my trip is like sorting through memories in my mind. each one fills with a different hue of wistful yearning to re-experience it all over again. pathetic, i know. i have so many good shots, especially of the children. i even thought about organizing them to print professional to potentially sell to raise money for Esmeralda and her family's expenses, due to her situation. my roomate (photographer extraordinaire) thinks people would buy them. i'm hoping so.
if anyone would like to see my pictures, they are on my msn space, which is:
http://spaces.msn.com/members/narcissuspoeticus/i will post a few of my favourites (and most likely ones i will sell) on a later blog entry. but for now, i hope you all enjoy them. i know i enjoyed taking them. well, my mom took all the ones with me in them...haha.
it all seems like a world away, being back at school, worrying about grades and papers again. perhaps i have inadvertantly tainted myself...
~np
answers
this is a much less formal entry, but an answer to some questions no less. many people have asked me how it was that i had internet access and such but was living in the slums. or how angela's family is able afford certain things. and due to the language barrier, i didn't know the exact answer until recently.
internet access:
originally, in order to use the internet, the family would have to go to the local internet cafe, which is 2 blocks from where they live. these cafes are quite common in Lima (and Cusco), being that it is cheaper than having internet in your house. but due to needing to access information for esmeralda, and the reccommendation of a doctor, they decided to try and get their own computer. in order to do so, angela apparently got help from family, and the rest she fundraised by selling chickens. they finally had enough for the computer they have (and donate webcam). the people that own the internet cafe are friends of theirs and wanted to help, so they ran a line from the cafe to their house and charge them only 15 dollars a month (instead of 30). not sure what currency that is, but probably soles...which means 5 CAD. so it DID cost them a lot, but in their eyes it was worth it. and i suppose my presence was proof of that, since they met me online, and we enjoyed many a web chat :)
washing machine:
from what i understood, franco either entered a contest or told someone about esmeralda's situation and it was donated. they don't always use it, due to not having reliable water supply. mostly only for big loads. the rest of the time, its the old basin and wash board. angela was surprised that few people in Canada wash clothes that way. times, they are a changin' :/
crib and other furnature:
gifts and donations from family, friends, and acquaintences who knew about their situation with esmeralda and wanted to help, in anyway they could. i didn't know this at first, but it makes me wonder what furnature they were able to buy themselves. not that that's important.
housework:
Raul has done most of the work on the house himself, including the entire rooving of the lower and top floor...although the top floor remains incoplete. someone asked me if this was to avoid a certain tax that comes with having a complete roof or second story and to be honest i thought it was merely because he hadn't finished yet, but don't really know. some questions are somewhat pointless to ask when the information isn't really that important for me to know
employment:
Raul works at a botique (which is common labour) while Angela stays at home with the children, with the help of her mother. her mother is 60 and very affectionate with the children and helps take care of esmeralda, as well as with cooking. Raul told me that he earns about 7 USD for one 10 hour work day. i'm not sure how often he works, but even still i'm sure he has to work a lot to save anything.
oh the differences in our countries....our worlds. hope that answers some of the questions on people's minds.
~np
hard to breathe
(date of entry published does not necessarily reflect the date of occurence...seeing as i have not had much internet access in cusco)
sometimes you attempt to prepare yourself so much for a certain event or set thereof that it seems impossible, in foresight, for anything to go wrong. but it seems to me, that it is precisely times such as these for the exact opposite to occur. the course of events in cusco now seem too rediculous to have all happened to one person (or two people...my mom included), but alas, they did.
both my mom and i managed to have eaten something the day before leaving for cusco that gave us both a bacterial infection and a parasite. it didn´t affect us right away, but once landed in cusco, compounded with altitude shock, we found ourselves quite incapacitated. for those unfamiliar, cusco is at an altitude of about 3000m, which, especially if you are tiny like me, hits you like a ton of bricks on your chest.
i spent saturday through tuesday of this week past fading in and out of consciousness as the beautiful scenery seemed to mock me with its glow. i spent three days in the hospital which sadly was necessary, even though it caused us to miss the inca trail hike we had already booked and paid for, as well as ran up a hefty bill of its own (thanks to my stupidity in forgetting health insurance). so some $1400 later, my mom and i found ourselves physically healed but emotionally battered.
we are pretty easy going people who like to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that it is possible to make good of even the seemingly worst situations. and such was ours. admittedly it was hard at the time to see past the week of diarrhea, blinding headache, and constant fight for what never felt like a full breath. but as close to death as i may have felt (and smelt...according to my mom, who thankfully didn´t need to be hospitalized like i did) i was alive. although looking out the window of my hospital room was like watching someone dangle a fistful of candy in front you as you sit, trapped in a glass container, i knew that i would regain my strength and be able to eventually take steps in the lyrically sunlit streets of picturesque Cusco. and when i finally did...when i was finally well enough to leave the hospital that had kept me hostage for days, it was the most wonderful experience i could have imagined.
with only two days left at our disposal, we spent the first enjoying everything that Cusco had to offer; from browsing its many quaint shops, to having our first beer of the trip at one of two irish pubs, i took in all the sights and sounds in several slow, steady meditated breaths. unlike Lima, Cusco is not covered in a haze of smog and disdain but rather skies so clear and blue that you begin to question the truths you thought you knew about the state of things. how can such beauty house any poverty at all? why does so little look so vast and worth much more than wages would have us believe?
but there is poverty in Cusco, just as there was in Lima. it lies hidden - tucked neatly away in the sock drawers of the hills - hills that would beckon the julie andrews in anyone to cast care aside for a day of echoed singing amongst them. like giants, these hills have seen years of humanity; of turmoil changing hue in the valleys that they guard from a mountainous abyss. gazing across Plaza de Armas, i feel as though time were merely a faint notion in architechutre that whispers new tales of old tributes many times over, to each new day of passers by.
if travelling to peru, people will tell you to visit Machu Picchu; a set of historical incan ruins that lies amidst the altitudous highlands, boasting both the skill and savy of the native people. anyone that has visited would tell you to go. and so with just one day left unrobbed by the IV that fed me new life and new breath, we went. words, for me, are never quite suffice to describe the works of he paints the earth, the sky, the natural breadths and hues that leave us gasping out of sheer astonishment. as fascinating as the ruins and the history of the incan people therein was to be found, i found myself all to distracted by the massive green mountainous terrain that encompassed me. after a tour that took us through...up and down...around and around...and up and down on cobbled stones worn with age and knowledge, i found myself with my mother, speechlessly uncovering every inch the area, with the care and wonder reserved only for great palientologists. we stumbled across many hidden paths and staircases, one in particular that led us through a high ledge and onto a nooked small patch of green earth that boasted the best view of skies, the hills, and the rivers ever so far below. i sat on this patch for what felt like an eternity, though still not long enough, feeling every inch of the landscape with my eyes and trying as hard as i could to paste such a canvas, as it were, into the far reaches of my mind. i want to be able to revisit such a place after i am long gone from peru- the land and the mindset. in the chaos of life in the north american fast lane, i take comfort in knowing that i can escape at any moment into the mental canvases that i have tucked away inside my subconscious.
the altitude makes it hard to breathe, but given time, our bodies can adjust. and just like our bodies, our minds learn to adjust as well. we can let the folleies of life leaving us frazzled and panting, seeking validation instead of purpose, or we can give ourselves time to learn to breathe again, though things may look different than we would have imagined them to.
as the sun set on the most breath taking of views of all of Cusco, nessled in a valley of rooves and rulered edges, i leaned over the balcony of our quaint little hostel's railing wondering about life and death, air and breath. sure, i had lost a lot, monetarily. robbed of funds and robbed of time by the most artful of dodgers. but i had also gain an immense amount; a great appreciation for the art of the city, an equal appreciation of the achievements of the Incas, and an understanding of why life must weigh down on us at times in order to reveal so much more than it takes away.
ñp
with these tears comes new beginnings
today is my last whole day in Pariachi before departing for Cuzco for the next seven. We will be trekking the Inca trail by day and camping by night. Peru boasts the breathtaking ruins of Machu Picchu, which i will soon lay eyes on.
people say it will change you. the trip; the experience. but when they say this i don´t think they are referring to the same change as i am feeling. the last three days have been a blur of sand, sun, picnicing, and family. we were joined each day by Raul´s sister and her family of three daughters - as sincere and compassionate as Angela´s. we spent all day Wednesday at the beach, and Thursday at a public sports facility. both were pretty much the same. good company combined with good food and good fun. Tia Ilda´s family is quite athletic, so each day we played volleyball - the 10 of us. it was so the most fun i´ve had playing volleyball. i even bruised my hand serving for four straight sets. but it was worth it.
i don´t know about my mom, but i feel like i have melted right into the family tree, because of the way they treat me. so welcoming and accepting. they get a kick out of asking me to sing some English songs and then laughing at my goofy performance. their favourites so far have been: I´m a Little Tea Pot, Head and Shoulders, and the Canadian national anthem (complete with my hand-slapping-thigh drums). for me they sing my favourite: Bailer Bamba (plus assorted others, all of which i can´t remember titles for). and together we sing Feliz Navidad.
and at the end of the day when we come home we dance. oh how we dance! the latin music is cranked and we all bust out. they try teaching me some traditional salsan, meringue, and Waican moves, and i make them laugh doing the robot, the running man, and my own arms and butt wiggle dance. we dance until we are so out of breath we can´t possibly dance anymore. then we drink some inca kola and go for another round.
today was special however. the children told me to take a half hour walk with my mom and Angela because they had a surprise for me. when we returned and they finally let us in the house, they flicked on the lights.
SURPRISE!
they had bought streamers and balloons and decorated the entire living room. they had my favourite Peruvian song playing. they had cups on the table and a fresh bottle of Inca Kola (my fav pop here). they had plates out with Chizitos (like Cheetos) and Princesa chocolates (my fav munchies here). and on the wall in the centre of the room was a big piece of paper, which read:
Dear Jessica- Do not forget that you have a Peruvian family and many friends. We may be far away, but we love you with all our hearts. We hope that you can come back soon. Most importantly, remember that you have a sister here in Peru who needs you. (roughly translated...i´m still learning)
they were all standing, smiling at me. i melted. if i were an emotional person, i would have been bawling. but i was crying on the inside and smiling the widest possible grin on the out. we ate the food. we drank the kola. and we danced like there was no tomorrow. it was beautiful. i would attempt to put into words how i felt, but i fear none, in all of both languages, would be suffice.
i will be back in Pariachi on the 13th for the afternoon, and then i fly back to Toronto at 1am. it will be so hard to leave all this behind. but i will take as much of it as i can with me, wherever i go. and hopefully, if i am so-blessed, i will be able to return one day. to my second family. mi familia Peruana.
ñp
the tango
whoever said that it take two to tango had us all fooled. it only takes one; you.
i spent a greater part of today tripping over myself, in more ways than one. so far things have been quite peachy. few bumps, if any. even mom´s arrival at the airport and presence since has been awesome. watching her with Esmy is one of the strangest but amazing things i have ever experienced. its as if i am watching memories replay from my long ago childhood. except i am sitting in a new seat in this theatre playing the movie of my life. its astounding. the strangest high.
the day started off as spectacular as the rest. in addition, i have been put to the test with my translation skills, seeing as my mom speaks nada español (but i think its hilarious that she still tries to communicate with them in English, even though they have no idea what she is saying 90% of the time). so it was Angela, Franco, mom, and me off to el centro de Lima.
walking through el centro feels as though you are walking through 18th century Europe. the architechure. oh, the architechure! so beautiful, it felt like i was walking through postcards, street after street. every angle poised with elegance. and the people just flecks and sploches; miniscule strokes on such wonderous canvas. i was in art history paradise.
but like i was saying about the tango...it is possible to dance solo. it is in moments where it is almost as if you dancing this dance of passion and fury with two sides of yourself.
unpleasant;
ugly;
tiring.
but a tango needs music, and mine happened to be the sound of my camera falling onto a stone bench after it fell from my grasp, at the hand of a very exciting but oblivious Franco. alas...my poor camera...my 5th limb...my companion on all my adventures, was damaged beyond my own repair. for(yes) the second time.
you´d think i would have learned from abu dhabi that those flimsy hand lanyards don´t quite cut it. but no. and unfortunately, in that moment, my despair consumed me. and thus began my tango.
sometimes we are completely oblivious to this descent into tango madness. and other times, we are quite cognicient, and yet let the tango lead us away. for me, it was the latter. oh how i tried not to look; feel; be upset. but how hard it was to fight my mind´s desire to succumb to the seductive rhythm of the dance.
how foolish it all seems! in the midst of the most glorious sights in Lima, i am sour inside, like a deceptive citrus fruit. it made me realize how much we let such a dance, as it were, put us out of sorts and steal our happiness. i am discussing this situation in all honesty. and honestly, its embarassing, when i look back. but it is the truth, and i figure it needs discussing.
i feel like a hypocrite. wielding my words of apathy for this population, and regailing the solace i have found in a family; a life with so little. i have gotten such a high from it all, and yet i let myself get in the way of that continued happiness, if only for a moment in time.
this happens all to often in my old life. my north american life. between me and my family, out of 5, one person always has to be out of sorts (it would seem). which only ends up hurting us in the end. so why do we tango at all? why massarce our own happiness; our own life? what is left in this world to lay blame to?
some words come to my own mind: selfish, self-centred, self-indulgent...self, self, self...me, me, me...I, I, I. Me and I, we tango too well. as difficult as was at the time, i stopped dancing. i stopped long enough to enjoy the rest of the day. one more day in a list of thousands lived and enjoyed so far. in the hope of one more to follow.
i enjoyed exploring the San Franciscan Monastary and Museum; the sight of countless spanish paintings nearly 500 years old, still stunning after years of appreciation; a skylit library that smelled of the aging leatherbound books that consume it, and sounded of writers scratching pen to ink to paper into the wee hours; the breathtaking catacombs below that allow you to feel your way back through time, as the lives of the dead echoed throughout the winding tunnels, whispering softly into the ears of those who stop to listen.
i enjoyed the slow and scary drive up the San Cristobal mountain; a slow winding road that weaves through a tapestry of stacked slums and sarcasm, towards the top, where a 10ft cross awaits adornment. but the view from atop was one that will stay burned in my retinas forever; leaning over the edge and gazing over all of Lima and its 11 million occupants was like viewing a section of humanity under a microscope. How vast it all looked! How small and insignificant all of our earthly problems seem!
i spent most of the cab ride home enjoying conversing with Angela. the rest of my time was spent analyzing the events of the day in my mind. what a difference there can be when you let yourself enjoy things as they come - the good and the bad.
afterall what is bliss without strife? what is beauty without pain? and more importantly, what can we learn from each passing trial and tribulation?
ñp
and sometimes there is providence
today has been rather intriguing.
its interesting how we are unable to grasp the complete purpose/role that certain people or aspects play in our lives until much later. after years of cursing my disadvantages, i have come to see that my certain physical limitations have played a far greater role in my life so far than a normal body would have.
this condition has made me who i am. it aided in my receiving of the scholarship that without, i would not be attending university. school has allowed me to discover my love for international development issues, which has become my new focus. this focus is why i chose to take spanish 100. and shortly afterwhich, allowed me converse with Angela.
but it doesn´t stop there. after much talking with Angela and realizing that it may be within my power to help her daughter get proper medical attention, i became consumed by the idea. so consumed in fact, that i felt compelled to write an article about the experience of Angela finding me and us conversing daily, for the bi- annual issue of my scholarship newsletter. after reading my entry, a woman named Patricia (who lives in Canada but used to live in Peru) felt complelled to contact me and ask me about the situation. I told her i had decided to visit, and she insisted on not only giving me a lot of much appreciated advice, but the contact of a friend of hers named Hans, who is currently living in Lima and is fluent in English as well as Spanish.
Today Hans visited us in Pariarchi and with his help, I was able to complete the application fo Esmeralda to receive medical attention in North America. I got this information from an amazing doctor that i had as a child, that my mom located through the internet. He now works in Florida.
Hans spent a couple hours visiting, and told me that he is now, after meeting me and Angela, very interested in continuing to help me and their family; through helping Raul obtain a VISA for Canada, through giving Angela´s family some money and second-hand clothing. and through this physiotherapy project that is in the works right now. currently, Angela is unable to visit the phyiotherapist with Esmeralda often, because it is so far away. but this new facility will be much closer and thus more accessible for their family. this will aid tremendously in the development of her hands, which are very limited, dexterously.
like i said, its interesting how these things happen. i think labelling this situation as fate would be like making a mockery of a Jackson Pollock; its not easy for everyone to understand at first glance, but give it time and you will come to love it for the magnificent work of art that it is.
de dios.
ñp
learning in lists
my entries so far seem...a tad long winded, so i thought i´d try a different style.
things i have learned:
- you can add the suffix "ito/ita" to just about any word (ex: bebita/baby girl, gordito/fat boy, chattita/short girl, guchita/a girl´s poop)
- Peruvians are not familiar with the idea of personal space. if we´re not kissing and hugging people we have just met, we´re practically sitting on each other´s laps on the bus. it´s definitely different.
- the funniest word is guchy (goo-chee?)...which is possibly slang. it means poo.
- Peruvians love to feed you.
- Peruvian food is excellent...well most. Some is definitely an acquired taste. The bananas I had the other day were a little too different. The meat of them is peachy coloured. And rather sweet.
- No matter where you go, there seems to be music.
- Peruvians are very expressive when they speak, which makes it easy for someone like me to comprehend what they´re saying...even though they talk muy rapido.
- the sheep lady (we call her "ovejita"...sheep-ita) and i have a lot in common. she seems to always be in her head. although she doesn´t say much, whereas i find it hard to shut up.
- life is hard wherever you live, but the measure of your character is what you make of what you have.
- though the previous statement sounds cheesy and like an excerpt from a book of quotes, i have found it to be a genuine truth.
ñp
