The trick!

It is so bittersweet being here in Peru. Tears are falling down my cheeks but my head rises, jaw clenched, as I go home today.

The sunset is orange. It's hot but the windows are open and the breeze is amazing.

Today I am yearning for a hug from my friends. That's it. I just want to be with them. I don't care if it's for a second.

I feel like I'm going to throw up, I want it so bad.

It's not going to happen though so I better get over it. And fast because I'm going to get to site in 30 minutes here.

2 years is a long time to be away from loved ones. It really is. I've taken the "ignorance is bliss" route because sometimes it does feel like this is just a drop in the ocean. Sometimes.

I usually don't get like this but this is normal. I'm a suppresser. For some reason I have trouble letting people see me vulnerable, gotta be in control 24/7.

This feeling really is rare. I am not depressed. I just know what it is to miss someone intensely. This is signature Peace Corps feeling.

Man the sky looks unreal. Pinks and grays and baby blue. We're finally getting to my site and I can smell the mom's cooking.

Dairon sees me get out of the car and greets me with a hug in site. Jordy comes to ask where I've been, if I want to play soccer. I give them both caramelitos. They run off happy.

I'm okay now. Love fixes everything. Any kind. Love's the trick!

My Little Astronaut, Veterinarian and Brother

I won't ever be able to leave Peru. Sometimes a volunteer gets extremely close to a child, usually a host sibling, and it breaks their heart when they have to leave, as the child has innocently fallen in love with you and you with the child...without logic holding you back. Real love is the best feeling in the world though so I will just have to face the pain when it happens, aka I'm going to be BALLING on the plane back, ha!

Neizer, 11, has turned into more love than any other person in my life. I didn't expect to find this other little being that I want to protect fiercely and be there for all my life. He makes me feel more than many people and I want to give him the world. I just want to hug and kiss him every day! Maybe it's my Gia maternal instincts but this little boy makes me as happy and comfortable as if when I'm at home a couple America's away.

I normally go to Lucy's house, Neizer's mother, for dinner and for that "at home" feeling. Her family is wonderful and her sons, Neizer and Stevie, call me "sister." It makes me want to give them so much love for letting me into their world as a member of their family. I am honored.

Tonight Neizer said, "Hermana mira a la luna!" I walked outside and saw him intently looking at the universe and knew I had to prolong this moment. We brought chairs out to his backyard and just watched the stars.

He asked me so many questions. Is that a planet or a constellation? How does a telescope work? Does the world rotate around the sun EVERY day?! In California, do I see the same sky as he does? How is it possible we see different stars?????? How do you become an astronaut?!

I showed him a circle with my hands and then told him to imagine the universe around this circle. I put an imaginary line in between this circle so he could understand the north and south hemispheres. The stars in the north are different than in the south because they are in two different places - the north and the south. Neizer was EATING this UP! To become an astronaut takes a lot of work but I know he can do it, I tell him. Pay attention in your math classes. I will be in California waiting for his visit when he is older with pictures of him on the moon. He giggles.

I enjoy opening his eyes.

I wish I could quote all the things he says. He then started telling me how much he loves his animals. He saved a pigeon that all the kids caught and were picking on. They had taken her eyes out somehow so the pigeon was pretty deformed. Neizer held her before dinner and when he put her to sleep, he said, "No te preocupes chola. Tranquila. Duermete y manaña vengo para darte aguaita. Mi mama tiene que hervirlo primero." Don't worry hun. Relax. Go to sleep and tomorrow I will come to give you water. My mom has to boil it first.

But it's the way he says things. This language can be very gentle. For a boy his age, his gentleness with animals is precious to witness. He acts older than his age.

He told me he feeds the strays. His "heart hurts" when he sees a sick animal. He told me he would maybe be a vet or astronaut if his mom "allowed it" because one day "he wants to live close to her too." In this culture the children stay close to their family. It's not like in the states where we just go wherever our heart pleases. Family is everything in Peru.

He is such a dynamic little fella. I wish you could all meet him. I am so lucky to be in Peru to have gotten to know Neizer. I hope he never forgets me and I do get to see him when he is grown up. I love him with all my heart. I really do.

How Peace Corps Changed My Life

You know, everyone thinks of Peace Corps as a totally different world to step into. "That's one of the hardest things you can do in life Gia!" "You're crazy." "Wow." "So you actually like it?" "HOW MANY PARASITES?!" An upside world where the people of X exotic country many do not ever get the chance to experience and you, the "developed," will be absolute polar opposites. I'm here to tell you different traditions, languages and lands make no difference to the fact that we humans in our purest form are all much more similar than we believe. For how dynamic our problems and victories are, it's the same planet, same species, same worries, joys, life lessons, all that jazz. There a bajillion and one things Peace Corps teaches you but that right there is what changed my life personally. Every day I walk around, no matter the language or skin color, I see a person just like myself. Mirrors are walking next to you at work, on the bus, in the grocery store, everywhere. Look closely and fine tune your senses to feel the soul of the human struggle all around us. Your eyes, ears, and hands are not my eyes, ears, and hands yet we see, hear and feel the same. Our human struggle is fighting the good fight by trying to unite us every day. Through this understanding, we become powerfully aware of the ways we can help each other and spread the message of love. Peace Corps gives me that chance every day I walk out the front door of my host family's casita. The ultimate fulfillment comes from doing your best to give of yourself but you must have this human struggle complex as a foundation of your philanthropy. This time alive would mean nothing without your loved ones and the ever-present, kind of familiar stranger at the store. I firmly believe we are on this Earth for one another. I am here for you. You are here for me. The strongest force is love and life is nothing without the love we give each other every day.

Knowing that there is so much love on this Earth enables me to trust in the mysteries of life. Peace in heart, I am calm, sailing life's seven seas, and I am happy to be alive.

It = My Young Years

It's dancing the night away to loud reggaeton with my eyes closed and hands in the air on warm Peruvian beaches in white shorts, flip flops, sun-kissed skin and sandy hair. Unfortunately it's getting too tipsy at happy hour to care to shower. It's thanking God for perfume!

It's trying to catch a wave here and there, mostly making Peruvian friends that rise and go down with the dedicated sun.

It's meeting the nicest, most fascinating travelers from all over the world. They're like you in so many free-spirited, spontaneous, carefree ways.

Sometimes it turns into sweet kisses under the moonlight, waves crashing at your feet after long talks of getting to know your weekend lover from countries like Argentina, Uruguay, Chile, or maybe you snag one of those Brazilian surfer boys trying to find the perfect wave in Peru.

It's thinking you drink too much with your friends and then trying to work your ass off to convince yourself you deserve the enchanted life you're living.

It's being sick in bed for days sometimes without eating or speaking, just waiting for the diarrhea, fever or stomach pain to pass.

It's loneliness. Intense loneliness.

It's self-reliance.

It's staring poverty and real problems right in the face and sometimes not knowing what do and sometimes surprising myself.

It's understanding humanity and that we are all so much more alike than we like to believe.

It's instilling values in me that I'll need for the rest of my life.

It's long bike rides with no destination in particular, wheels and legs full of mud from recent rains, platano and mango trees grazing my arm every now and then on the bumpy dirt road.

It's learning how to be a good sister and daughter when I'm far away and not living under the same roof anymore. Showing my love needs so much more effort now.

It's not knowing what will happen in the next hour. It's so unbelievably capricious that it's pointless to plan ahead. It's a lot of learning to let go of what I cannot control.

It's having doubts about the future. By when do I need to "figure it all out" exactly? It's frightened of "getting serious/settling down" even though you know the day will come. You can't dodge getting a job and responsibilities. It's understanding that kind of lifestyle is good for me too.

It's not wanting to ever go back to the states because it doesn't want order. It's STUBBORN. Wants to do things it's own way.

It's waking up at 6am, stashing swim suits, oranges and a towel in a bag, blasting "Could You Be Loved" by Marley practically salivating over the mirage you're envisioning of the surf an hour away from your casita in the middle of nowhere.

It's LOTS of sitting on the side of the road in the hot sun with my eyes crinkled, hand on my forehead, head down waiting for a ride. In the back with the goats and cows is no exception. Get me there.

It's wild and passionate. A passion I never want to lose but know I will eventually grow out of. Even right now I am molding a DIFFERENT kind of passion - the passion for family and a career.

It's the bittersweet symphony, the pursuit of happiness and there ain't no mountain high enough to climb it.

It's working and trying to be a better person. It's CONSTANT LEARNING. Question after once in a lifetime opportunities after cluelessness.

It's like being on a sheet of ice before the summer months and at any moment you could fall. Some cracks are deeper than others so watch out. It's always watching out, but it's pushing the "limits." It's irresponsible and you wouldn't change it for the WORLD.

It's priceless.

It's what I'll be talking about to my grandkids one day when they question my "coolness."

It's everything I want right now but nothing I'm proud of yet. So many mistakes.

It's formation of self. It seems never-ending but that day will come, and we'll wish it never did.

It won't go away for long though. The stories are forever.

It will become your shadow, you'll think you have to hide it but it will always follow you and you'll be happy about that because deep down, you know you're still the carefree, impatient, dancing machine no matter how "serious" you've gotten. Our inner young adult stays with us forever. You're actually dying to bring it out and can't wait to do the things you used to, when you had no care in the world. You just bring him/her out in "appropriate circumstances" now.

It's INappropriate.

It's true happiness because you will never get these years back so you know this is YOUR TIME to live it up, make your mistakes, get it together, but not TOO soon, and then you're on your way again. It's a different track but it's from the same origin. You were on this path but at the fork in the road, you just turned left. Some never turn at the fork and that's okay too.

It's amazingly different each year. 21 was different than 23 and 24 and I'm sure 27 won't even know who 23 was one day. Imagine that!

It's so many things I can't even describe. Hot, innocent, painful, a renaissance.

It is a timeless journey once walked, but forever within.

The Dying Man

I always buy water or a snack at this small "bodega" in my town of 600. The little store is inside someone's house. I walk up, do the greetings, give besos, sometimes sit and chat about the day. About a month ago, they brought their abuelito (grandpa) to their home. He is dying. I walk into the store and I see him laying there. It's concerning. I always ask out of courtesy how he is doing. He is quite, his eyes are always closed. He is disturbingly skinny, his rib cage exposed. A skeleton with flesh. It smells like human feces. They try to keep him comfortable until he goes back to the Earth, where we all end up.

Today one of the señora's tells me, "Hablélo." Talk to him. So I do. Man how my days turn in Peace Corps.

I pull up a seat, sanitize my hands. I am a cesspool of bacteria and my first thought is not to get him anymore weaker. They pick up his head and legs to sit him upright. I try to help awkwardly, they say no no, it's okay. He is facing me. I all of a sudden have no words. "How are you?" just sounds idiotic. "It's hot, huh?" comes out because the time you can stare at someone with a no-teeth smile before it gets awkward, even with a dying man, diminishes rapidly. He nods. I imagine how much energy this "conversation" is taking. I wonder if I am hurting him. He is blatantly fragile.

I notice there's a bible on his bed. I ask what verse he was reading. The señora says he can't read, she was reading to him about angels and heaven, as he will soon be one there.

I can't help but want to make the most out of this conversation. Who knows if it will be his last? I think I failed...but maybe that's okay. There's a mediocrity to us humans we are reminded about around death. We are reminded of the natural cycle of life. I won't live forever and I am small. I am important but indeed I am small.

I asked him how old he is. 89. If his family is taking good care of him as a joke. He laughed and then coughed up blood. They cleaned him. Again I tried to pull up a trapo (wash cloth). They told me not to worry. "Solo hablélo."

I asked if he liked music. Yes. If he wanted the family to play him music. Yes. He wants to listen to music.

They turned the music on and we just sat there. Personally I was happy the pressure was off me for entertainment. He closed his eyes and started moving his fingers up and down to the beat.

A couple long kumbia songs later, I said I should be going. He just looked at me. I said I'll see him later when I get thirsty and need water again. I think this was an attempt of a joke, but he said, "Maybe you won't." I smiled and walked out the door saying bye y gracias to the family simultaneously.

Inappropriate. Raw. Honest.

If only life could be this true every day. 

Señor Juanito and Bebita Elena

My eye tends to hyper-focus on the sick. I turn into a detective and always wonder how I can do something to help them.

Juanito is the blind man in my site. I always see him walking and call his name to say hello, sometimes lead him in the right direction. His happiness is contagious.

He walks long distances in the dark and it amazes me how the brain's post-central gyrus, the sensory strip, substitutes for other senses if one does not function. His sense of hearing and touch are impeccable.

Every night I see him making the same trek to his family's house half a mile away and returning to his home with his sister. He hears the cars or people coming from far away and moves completely off the road. He is cautious and slow. He does not have shoes. His hair is white. His face is full of smile wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. He always wears the same white shirt, same pants. The poverty is obvious. Apparently he could have gotten help a long time ago but there was no money for it.

You have no idea how much it kills me to hear things like that. It's like a bullet to my heart and I always end up complaining to my mom about it when she calls. "It's not fair, blah blah blah." But what's not fair? The poverty? Some of the illnesses I find don't even have a cure. I just have to sit in my own uselessness. Do I just want to get down to the bottom of every illness and do something - ANYTHING - about it? And what if I get to the point where I can't do just anything? It frustrates me. I am such a girl of action. I have to do something about everything. It's my blessing and curse at the same time.

I was on a combi to Tumbes one day and there was a baby with an oversized head, usually an undeniable sign of hydrocephalus. I observed the father holding his little girl. He had so much love in his eyes, unlike most machista men in this country. I never go out of my way to talk to men unless it is strictly on a professional level but this man was approachable. I couldn't help but ask if he had taken his little one to the doctor. He had not. Did he notice her head was bigger than other children's? Well he thought that meant she was going to be smarter.

I had a choice - to keep my mouth shut or to say something. I could have been wrong but if this little girl has any fighting chance, her dad had to know now. She could barely keep her head up. I was surprised she appeared to function normally!

I didn't know this family. It's probably none of my business. I didn't want to come off as a know-it-all-gringa. Plus, if they are like the rest of the campo families here in Peru, the harsh reality is that they won't have the money to get the surgery this little girl needs anyways, but maybe they'll find a way? Miracles happen, right?

I decided to say my two cents - she needs a doctor immediately, she could have hydrocephalus, a build-up of CSF in the brain, the fluid in the skull cavity that contains her brain, why her head was "big." If this is the case she needs a fairly easy procedure - shunt placement. In the states this surgery is common, but I am not sure about the facilities in Tumbes, Peru. The dad said he would try to take her to the doctor. He thanked me for my concern.

I swallowed everything else I wanted to say.

One day I think I have to take these concerns into my own hands.

I think a new goal in life will be Doctors Without Borders. I understand there is still so much need in the states but if I am not afraid of the developing country, of the diseases, of compromising my comfort, I should use this instinct. Not many want this job once they're comfortable. Hopefully I have an adventurous husband...

I wonder how this will change over the years. It's just a thought for now.