I'M GOING TO ANCASH

Those of you who read my last post may have noticed that I was leaning towards a certain department.  One where the mountains are snow-covered, the commute to Lima is manageable, the people speak Quechua, and the regional capital of Huaraz has a restaurant that serves waffles all day.

Well you may have guessed it, though you might not believe it (I know I barely can)--BUT I'M GOING TO ANCASH!!!

Let's take a brief moment to bask in the photos of Ancash, shall we?

And back to the present.

Specifically to the community of Huantar, district of Huantar, province of Huari.  It doesn't show up on Google maps, but it's north of the community of Chavin de Huantar, a town that is home to ruins dating back to 1200 BC.  Ruins so old and well-preserved and all-around awesome that they have been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

I will be the third volunteer in the community, which means that I will most likely be the last volunteer in the community.  I'll be starting up new projects of my own, but also working to finalize and make sustainable any of the projects begun by previous volunteers.  I will also be learning Quechua!

I'll have a sitemate half an hour away to the south in Chavin de Huantar who I have not yet met, and there will be three other volunteers from my group of Peace Corps Peru 22 to the north.  Two Mac-ers (Environment) near the town of Hauri and another health volunteer.  We will be rocking the east side of the Cordillera Blanca.  There are a bunch more volunteers located on the west side of the mountain range.

I really cannot explain how excited I am.  The morning of site assignments I had an enormous grin on my face--I couldn't have stopped smiling if I had tried.  I have some serious luck.  A backload of karma.  A guardian angel.  Something because I feel as though my dreams are coming true.

And apparently there's a competition among the Peace Corps Ancashinos to see who can skinnydip in the most glacial lakes. Bring it.

Besos. 

Tuesday is the big day!

On Tuesday, October 22nd, 2013, I, Kassel Galaty, will at long last know where exactly in the grand ole country of Peru I will be living for the next two years.  [comma count: 5]

There is chisme (gossip) galore about who's going where.  Technically there are 24 possible sites I could be sent to--4 in Cajamarca, 3 in Amazonas, 3 in Huancavelica, 3 in Lambayeque, 6 in Ancash, and 5 in Piura--all of which I technically have an equal chance of going to.

But let's be real.  I got some thoughts on the matter.  I've got a sneaking (really desperate, please god let it be so) suspicion that I will be placed in the highlands where it is cold-er.  The health program seems to have more people who want hot coastal sites, so I can't see why they would waste a perfectly good coastal site on me.

There are three departments with highland sites--Cajamarca, Ancash, and Huancavelica.  I had the pleasure of visiting Cajarmarca back in September.  The trip took a solid 22 hours of in bus/car/combi transport but it brought about views such as these:

Now before my most recent trip to Huancavelica I had a feeling that I was going to be placed in this department.  After all,
1) They sent me there once already.  Why would they send me there if I wasn't supposed to fall in love with it and want to live there forever?!?!?! *
2) In an interview when I mentioned how much I liked the mountains, you know like in Cajarmarca or Ancash, the staff member interviewing me was like, "Yeah, Cajarmarca is really pretty."  Why would she have repeated Cajarmarca to me if it meant nothing?!
3) One of the PCVs I met in Cajamarca friended me.  Why would she friend me unless I was going to be living near her very soon?!?!

*In the main capital city of Cajarmarca they closed off the main square so that there could be a two-day-long international painting competition.  Priorities in the right place.  Here are some pictures of the paintings and painters:

So obviously it looked like I was going Cajarmarca.  My above logic is clearly flawless. But then came Huancavelica.

The whole health program went to Huancavelica for field-based training, so there was nothing telling about the fact that I was there--everyone else was too.  But this trip was just a week ago, during prime site speculation angst.  Volunteers were asking prying questions, staff members were dropping hints that they had no evidence to back up with, and it was an all-around intense situation.  By the end of the trip I had a certain gut feeling that I was going to be sent to Huancavelica.  After all,

1) One of the staff members said, "This is where I would send you."  Why would she say that if she didn't think that?!
2) When we were visiting one of the sites where the volunteer was going to be replaced, one of the mother's became suddenly available for a house visit, and it was decided that I would go to it, even though I wasn't the person closest to the door. Why would I go on the one-on-one house visit if this wasn't going to be my future site?!?!
3) Everyone, and I mean everyone, said that they thought it would be my site. Why would they say that unless it was a universal gut feeling?!?! *

*Answer: Because it seems like a pretty tough site and I think no one else really wants it

So for the next couple of days I processed the possible reality of me living here:

Those are genuine Peruvian alpaca.

Perhaps this was my future.  I worked to accept it.  And, come Tuesday, should it be my future, I will accept it.  I mean, are you looking at the same alpacas and sunsets as I am/was?  

But there is a little bit of me that can't shake the dream that I will in Ancash.  Ancash, a mere six-eight hours north of Lima.  Ancash, with the capital city of Huaras, also known as an awesome place to be (according to wikipedia and everyone I've ever talked to about it).  Ancash with mountains like these:

Didn't take these pictures, but wouldn't it awesome if one day I was in the place where I could?!?!

So there you have it folks.  The thoughts that have been consuming my mind for the past couple of weeks.  Site, site, site. Check back in on Tuesday, in a mere two days, to see if my predictions have come true or if I have been reading WAY too much into every inconsequential gesture I see. 

Besos!

Training is numbing my mind

Preview of my Spanish class this morning

"Como dices 'over and over'"

"Muchas veces."

"Si, pero...."

"Si?"

"Es que, creo que hay mas...como se dice 'ways'?"

"Maneras."

"Creo que hay mas maneras por...como se dice 'express'?"

"Expresar."

"Ya, es que creo que hay mas....maneras...por expresar--"

"Para."

"Para expresar, lo que quieres, en ingles, como, como se dice, 'over and over'?"

Mi brain no trabaja por nada.  Oy vey.

Picture Time!

All right folks.  Lots has happened since I last posted, in the sense that I did a little traveling, and also not a lot has happened, in the sense that I do pretty much the same thing everyday. But while I work on writing the past few weeks into scintillating and humorous tidbits for you, my dedicated readers, I will try to satisfy your curiosity with PICTURES.

Let's start with where I live:

This is my bedroom (note the neatly-made bed, made by yours truly every morning)

This is the dining room, (the seat closest to you in the frame is my seat.  It is a prime TV-viewing seat. My host brother Luis, called Phillipe, has the ideal spot at the head of the table right in front of the doors.  Is a prime TV-viewing seat an important part of my relationship with my host family?  Yes.  It is essential.  How else would I keep up with my comedic soap Al Fondo Hay Sitio [don't try to translate it, its an inside Peruvian joke]),

where I eat the delicious food my madre anfitriona (host mom) Gloria makes for me in the kitchen

Picture of my actual host family to come.  But here are three of the most important members of my host family:

The caramel blur on the left is Carmelo, who enjoys picking on and occasionally humping Napo (aka Napoleon), who is in the middle and is the son of Dunca, on the right.  I only recently discovered the trick to make them all sit still, which is to eat a piece of bread while they watch.  In case you were wondering, Dunca is my favorite.  She doesn't jump or bite, and she sits at my feet during dinner.  Plus she's shaggy and adorable.

There it is, a preview of my home here in Peru.  Here I have a family that laughs at my highly accented and broken jokes, deliberately exposes me to a myriad of Peruvian foods, and generally makes me feel loved every time I come home.  

Oh, and I finally got that picture I wanted to show you all last time.

Besos.